The Day Begins

"You have to get up!"

I opened my eyes; daylight – barely. I looked at my watch; 6:30 AM – barely.

“Sleep” I responded, snuggling deeper into the sleeping bag.

“You have to get up, we have to go!” my bladder insisted.

As if in league with my bladder, a group of squirrels decided, just then, to have an argument, which gave way to a skirmish and the chittering turned into chittering and skittering as squirrels rampaged past the side of the tent.

“Now, please!” My bladder would not be ignored.

“Fine,” I sighed and unburrowed myself from the sleeping bag, added one or two warm layers, put on my toque and adeptly exited the tent.

I wandered down the dirt lane towards the outhouse and marvelled, between yawns, at how quiet it was (aside from the rampaging squirrels whose battle had deescalated into little more than name calling from opposing tree branches) there was very little noise, little more than the occasional whoosh of the wind though the trees (which I could always hear before I felt it). No traffic, no people – the absence of both I would expect (and welcome) when camping in the near-middle-of-nowhere (especially this early in the morning) – but there were no birds, no dawn chorus; just silence and the scrunch of my sandals on the gravel and the intermittent squabbling Sciuridae.

Once I had appeased my bladder, I returned to the campsite planning to re-cocoon myself and await a more humane hour at which to begin my day but as I rounded the front of the tent, I saw movement in the forest and I froze.

Less than 30 metres away stood a group of deer. (Sorry, were you expecting a bear?) There were five of them – two does and three fawns. One doe and one of the fawns were moving slowly away from the our campsite wandering slowly though the tall thin pine trees, while the other doe and the remaining two fawns seemed more content to stay.

I stood rooted to the spot – the silent observer – then slowly began to unzip my jacket pocket to get out my camera.

The observer became the observed. The remaining doe and one of her fawns seemed to fix me with their gaze. They seemed rather un-phased by my presence though the fawn continued to stare at me. The second fawn, either not seeing me or not caring about me proceeded to lie down on the mossy forest floor.

I slowly moved my camera up to my line of sight and began to take a few pictures; too far away, the light is too low; I thought and I tried to slowly and silently move towards them.

Getting a little closer I fixed my camera lens on them again – still I couldn’t capture the moment in an image. Silently cursing the shortcomings of my camera, I realized that I was missing the experience by trying to capture it in a digital image.
So I stopped. I stood. I watched.

The sun was forcing thin shafts of light down between the trees and the air seemed to sparkle with a golden morning haze.

The deer seemed to go about their regular routine, one of the foals got startled and ran a little way away, the doe began to slowly follow and the second foal (sill resting on the ground) unfolded itself, stood and trotted off after its mother. All three began to move away and I was left to watch as they receded into the forest.

As if awakening from a trance, I realised I was cold. I looked at my watch; 7:30 AM – almost. Knowing there was no point in trying to go back to sleep; I gathered some dry twigs for fire starter and turning my back on the forest began making my way back to the campsite.

It was time to start a fire, make some tea and begin my day.