A Living Magazine - Day 160 - Own Where You Are With Respect

Besides having a very disturbing dream, about halfway through the night, it was another restful night in my sweet adopted home, Alabama. 

The dream was of the kind I used to have frequently before leaving Maine. I have basically had three great loves in my life. And when I dream about being in a relationship, it is always with one of these three people. There was K.D, D.M. and A.L. Usually, in the dreams, I am with one of them again, as if we had never broken up. Often times I will awaken thinking that we (whichever person the dream was about) were going to get up and do something that day. Then I'd look beside me and realize I was alone.

On this past night, it was A.L. We had been driving around North Cumberland at night. I dropped her off at some place I can't remember now, and we were talking on the phone. I noticed that when I'd ask her questions, she would not answer them, or took a long time. This made me very frustrated. Then she showed up at my house (always, it's the house in Yarmouth, where I grew up) and explained to me that she wanted to break up. I won't go into the reasons why, but it ripped my heart out, just like it had in the real world--some twenty years ago now. 

When I woke up in the tent, I was relieved to know that it was just a dream. But, honestly, I was a bit perturbed with the Spark for putting me through all that again (even though it wasn't the Spark's fault--but my own mind's).  

The weather is like a mild Maine summer right now, but having the sun so low in the sky keeps things golden all day long. When I first got to this sleep spot - and was eating my Thanksgiving dinner - I saw a thick, black tail with a dab of white on the tip, disappear into the bushes. Now, I've scoured the internet for Alabama mammals (say that five times fast!), and only the weasel and the fox would fit this description. It looked too big to be a weasel. So, I'm thinking it might be a fox...

A "Black Fox". This animal looks darn close. The tail is exactly the same.

[Source: Google Images]

Each night I have heard the rustling of a mid-sized animal, too active and large to be a raccoon, and too agile and small to be a coyote. Besides, this nine acre green island is not connected to any woods, so a large mammal would be very unlikely (no deer for instance). Although, there is woods on the other side of the road, and it has a thin strip connecting all the way southeast to large tracts of fields and forests. It would not be impossible for a fox to find his way into this place. Can you tell that I'm hoping it's a fox? Ha! Anyway, I keep my camera at the ready to catch glimpse of this mystery critter, should he show his snout. 

I noticed that even in the three days and nights I'd been there, I was having a domesticating influence on my approximate 300 square foot area. I had several paths now. Three of them led in from different directions. Another short one led to my "closet" (which you will see below). There were two others to my two "bathrooms". The spot where the tent stood each night was flat as a hotcake now, cleared of most objects larger than an acorn. All small bushes that once grew there had been cut off below the surface of the ground with my little knife, so that they wouldn't puncture the tent floor.

I know some of this sounds ridiculous to people who think nothing of plowing through, cutting and killing anything around them to form it in the way they want, but I am VERY respectful, not only to insects and spiders, but with trees, bushes and vines. 

By that, I mean that I don't kill ANYTHING if I don't have to. Trees that I utilize for hanging bags are left in tact except for the hanger-branch. When clearing a path vines are only cut if they would trip me at night, otherwise they are pulled up and twisted together then laid outside the walking area. Ant hills are left alone. Spiders are left alone. In fact  there is a tiny one who built a perfect web right beside where I hang my trash bag. I tried several times to take a photo of her, but the camera will only focus on the background. She catches mosquitoes before they enter the tent. And, she is very efficient at this.

Over the last leg of this current (Living Magazine) Journey - after leaving Allyson's house in Minnesota - I observed that when I treated even the smallest creatures with a "live and let live" attitude, they just didn't bother me at all. I've slept next to trees filled with ants and never have they streamed into my tent area. I have rescued spiders, and never has one "bitten" me. I use living vines and trees to make hangers, arches, supports, and camouflage, without killing them.

All the while, I've really felt that once I'm in an area for the week, it becomes MINE. I own it (though temporarily). The creatures and plants make way for me, as I keep respect for them. I help them when I can, and in return they don't bother me at all. Now, I know, I know, the temptation is to say that I am giving too much credit to individual critters who could care less, and act exclusively by instinct. I fully understand that that is part of it all. Nevertheless, I feel (perhaps through the agencies related to all life--through the Spark) that all of these living things are manifested under ONE kind of spiritual collective oversoul. It is not just dumb luck that over a hundred times camping I have never been harmed. By simple statistics alone, that is an over 100% success rate.

Yes, there was the Wiley Coyote incident in Nashville. I still now have a small scab above the bridge of my nose where he pawed me through the screen of the tent. However, if I had gotten desperate and actually emerged from the tent in full force, in front of him, showing no fear, I think he would have realized that I was a human (the most feared creature by all wild animals), and taken off immediately. He thought I was an animal. I will continue to monitor the way nature reacts to my presence.

Each morning I empty the tent of contents, shake it out upside down, and then zip it back up, propping it with the outside of the floor to face the sunrise. I dab the wet spots with a napkin and let the sun do the rest of the drying. It never takes more than ten minutes...

Condensation rises up through the ground underneath me as I sleep and gathers of the floor bottom. Yet, as I spend more and more time in one place, that condensation is less and less each day. By default, I dry out the spots directly under the tent.

I walked down to Wal-Mart McDonald's after completely packing up, but left my winter coat hanging and the tent poles hidden, so that I wouldn't have as much to carry. The tent poles are very awkward and it makes it much easier to not have them sticking out of the back pack. I have an idea for fully encasing them in the pack, but it will have to wait for a motel room to make the alteration. I passed the real estate sign for the green island...

After seeing this land, if the price was right, I would seriously consider buying it. In fact the 1.6 acres that I currently occupy (and is already subdivided from this larger tract) is probably pretty inexpensive. It would be perfect for a tiny house or self sustaining cottage. Good growing season here too, really long.

After working at McDonald's and then at the other one, west about a mile and a half down Route 80, I returned in the mid afternoon. It is strange to relate, but all I could think about was hanging out in my camp site, with the trees and the ants and the spiders, and maybe even a fox?--my nature family.

When I returned, I really wanted to sit and work on my offline picture processing and some other essays--yet unpublished. As I explained in the last post, just being able to sit is a luxury. I had a few hours before sunset, so I hatched a plan to construct a mini office. But, in good ole' fashioned Maine Saturday hobbie style, I wanted a couple beers to drink while I built my desk and further cleaned up the area. So I hid my pack in the "closet"...

Then, I headed out my eastern pathway to the street, and crossed the busy intersection to the Chevron station. There, I purchased three beers ($0.99/each--great prices in this part of the country), and made my way back, using the dirt road entrance. I like to never use the same path two times in a row, if at all possible. Once I had my Saturday beers chilling in a little pantry area (under a thickly covered bush), I looked around for materials to build my little desk.

Over by the hole that I'd capped, I found several boards that would do quite nicely. I only took one back. It was treated, about five feet in length, six inches wide and 3/8 inches thick. I used the saw on my new multitool to cut it into thirds. Once that was complete, I took my smaller knife out of the pants pocket and tapped it down with the hammer to start a split on one of the three pieces...

The board split wrong twice (with the grain pulling out on the edge instead of all the way down), but I kept at it with a second piece until I had three legs. At that point it was simply a matter of sharpening the tips of each leg, then hammering them into the ground about eight inches, so they were all level; the ground held them tightly. One of the other un-split sections worked well as a desktop. It was quite sturdy for being made of such thin materials. A few tacks would have been nice...

The laptop/tablet was very secure on top. Now I just needed a seat. I went back to the log pile and found a stump that wasn't lying on the ground, but rather, across a bunch of sticks. This meant no insect infestation. Capped with my winter coat as a soft seat, I was ready to go! I cracked a beer and worked there for about two hours, comfortably...

At just around 4:30, with the sun barely below the horizon, I put my backpack in the "closet" again, the laptop AC adapter in my pocket, and brought only the laptop itself to the Wal-Mart McDonald's to get the one post left to write, up and published. I was now caught up again. After having some nice exchanges at Facebook with my new friends, the Coons, my other friends too, and downloaded a Psychedelic Salon podcast to listen to that evening, I closed up the computer and headed "home" to my camp spot, where I set up the tent and the laptop, then sat comfortably listening to the podcast.

When it was over, I was tired, and climbed into the tent. I sat and looked up at the glow in the east that would be a rising waning moon, behind the thin cloud cover. For now, I owned my little piece of Alabama, and my respect for it made it hospitable to me. Sleep came easily at around 9:00 pm.