I arrived at the trailhead. Not my usual, but I come here now and then on weekends. It was still dark when I arrived. There was a sketchy looking white van already parked in the parking lot, tucked back among the shadows. This area is day use only, and it’s strange to see another vehicle here when I arrive.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I park and grab my cane and my headlamp, and start down the trail. I’d only gone a short distance when I heard a sound that turned my blood to ice water in my veins. It was a hoarse sort of screaming. Cougar? Here? I’m not certain, but it’s definitely not a friendly or welcoming sound. It is clearly a warning. There’s too much legitimate potential for danger; I immediately turn back and quickly make my way back to the car. There are safer trails to walk before dawn.
I watch the sunrise begin in my rearview, bold hues of orange diffused in soft white fog banks, until I reach the trailhead of a familiar suburban trail nearer to home. It feels safe. No sketchy battered white van with the logo on the side faded and partially scuffed off and darkened windows. No sounds of a cougar screaming in the darkness, making her way to the riverbank. No threats at all. Just the soft woosh of the nearby HVAC atop the buildings here.
I walk thinking about safety, threat assessment, and what it means to live in a world surrounded by legitimate threats against one’s safety or survival. More than the momentary terror of a cougar on a trail, or the vague anxiety provoked by an unknown van parked in the shadows, I mean the real practical imminent threats that are part of human conflict (Palestine, Ukraine, Iran, others). Drones. Bombs. Bullets. “Is there anyone down range?” I silently ask myself, recalling so many visits to the firing range. (Is there anyone left who is not “down range” in these troubling times?) It’s not rare for whole nations of noncombatants to live in mortal terror, which seems pretty fucking horrible and entirely unnecessary.
… It’s easy to change my mind about a trail, the choices are less clear for people whose actual homes and communities are threatened by violence…
Hey, Humanity, I’m loving the whole “Earth” thing, and the flora and fauna are amazing. Great stuff. I’ve just got some notes… Let’s see, oh, right. Stop fucking killing each other! Fucking hell. The waste and expense are ridiculous, and compounded by lost resources. Can we not?
We could do better. I sigh to myself as I get to my halfway point. There is mist filling all the lowland places. Dense fog in spots near various rivers. I breathe, exhale, and relax. No bombs falling here. I am grateful. I hope it lasts. I yawn and watch a fat raccoon and her youngsters waddle quickly past me, across the trail, and down into the trees along the creek bank.
The morning is off to a weird start. I stretch, and sigh, and get ready to begin again.
