Water rushes over jagged rocks. The stream spills and widens between the expertly stacked boulders. Faint voices on the wind. A rooster crows. A crow caws. Three short calls repeated. A bugle sounds in the distance. Soon, the national anthem plays, making me pause. A horse snorts. His long, white tail swishes as he grazes in a rocky field. There is movement in the tall grass. The sound of twigs breaking. A fish jumps. A tiny splash sending ripples of water radiating until they meet the bank. The half moon defies the rising sun, refusing to be relegated to merely the starry, night sky. Footsteps scatter gravel and crush the beginning sprigs of wild grass. A helicopter whirs overhead. Its rotor a silvery unbroken circle. I am reminded of the city that opens wide at the head of the trail. A squirrel scurries up an old oak. His feet make tiny scratching sounds on the aged bark. He chatters, stops on the lowest limb, and raises up to sit on his hind legs. His tail forms a bushy S. He turns an acorn between his front paws. His chattering pauses. His eyes dart side-to-side and, only then, does he bare his teeth to devour his precious plunder.Atop an exposed rock, a turtle basks in the morning sun. At my approach he silently slides into the water. I am enveloped in birdsong. Various tweets, coos, and whistles: A conversation perhaps.The whir of a line being cast. A bobber plops into the stream. The click of a reel. A jig dances in the murky water, hovering above the stream bed. Tantalizing it tempts.
