Well, it felt like forever and a day since I last walked at my favorite nature nook.  That’s because it was one month ago today when I was last there.  You may recall my blog post recounting my encounter with the Park critters who dressed to impress on Christmas Eve.  Here is the link in case you missed it:  https://lindaschaubblog.net/2017/12/24/twas-the-day-before-christmas/

I decided my long-anticipated return to Council Point Park would be this morning.  It was cold, but the pavement was dry, so off I went, in high spirits, with my camera in tow, plus the deep pockets of my squall jacket brimming with bags of peanuts for the squirrels and cut-up bread for the ducks.

This was the longest walk I’ve undertaken in weeks and I logged four miles.  Those treks to walk laps in the grass at Memorial Park and Ford Park, both near my home, yielded two or three miles on most days.

After wending my way down Pagel Avenue and crossing busy River Drive, I did not see a single car in the parking lot at Council Point Park.  I naturally assumed the regular walkers were still avoiding the Park due to the slippery perimeter path, which is dicey walking, especially the portion of the trail that is so close to the water.  But, I was happy to discover the last three days of constant rain and balmy temps had scoured the ice and snow from the pathway, even though thick ice remained along the banks of the Ecorse Creek and a thinner veil of ice still covered the remainder of the water.

Unfortunately, due to that icy Creek, the mallards and geese were missing and I had planned to entice them for a close-up photo with my yeasty tidbits.  The squirrels were also M.I.A., even Parker, my favorite squirrel, who always comes to show me some love as soon as he spies me in the parking lot.  So, my plan to dispense extra peanuts in one fell swoop, to make up for my lengthy absence, soon fell apart.  I gazed up into the tall bare trees to see if my furry friends were tucked in their nests, but I saw no action up there.  That’s okay – I’ll be back tomorrow to try and entice those furry pals out of their hidey-holes for a photo op and some treats.

So, it was a solitary walk along the perimeter path … just me and my thoughts.  Even my shadow did not accompany me this morning, as the sky was gray and gloomy with traces of snow that occasionally drifted lazily in front of my face, reminding me of those lightweight curls of burnt paper that suddenly go airborne when you build a bonfire.

I walked along, taking in the scenery, blah to be sure, but it still filled me with contentment as I enjoyed the familiarity of my routine.  I even took the camera out to capture a few images along the way, like several seagulls gliding overhead, dark slashes in a streaky-looking sky.  Then, I put the camera away and returned to my woolgathering when a crow’s sudden verbal attack startled me and quickly interrupted my reverie.  I caught a glimpse of a huge crow who flew down, seemingly out of nowhere, and perched in a tree near my head.  Where did that big crow come from?  His persistent loud cawing interrupted the peace and quiet of the moment.  If he would have had better manners, I might have shared my bread with him, but he kept flitting from branch to branch and tree to tree, following me as I walked along the pathway.  His cantankerous and unusual actions made me think twice about tangling with this not-so-fine-feathered-friend.

It sure was good to be back and it felt like old times, even if the gang was missing.