You went for a hike this morning figuring something interesting would happen. It always does. Guraranteed. We’ll get to that later.
This morning you saw one of your favorite birds, a male Yellow-Shafted Flicker. Same woodpecker that’s mentioned in The Boy Detective. But even if you hadn’t seen the Flicker you’d have seen something else. Maybe another favorite, the Scarlet Tanager. Since summer’s nearly over, this bird’s changing plumage would be mottled with green. Interesting.
Maybe you’d see a bird you never saw before. Once you met an old man in the woods. He was an odd bird: elfin and friendly, bent over and looking for medicinal herbs. He told you his name was Huckleberry Finn. You thought he was crazy, but he showed you his driver’s license. His last name was truly Finn. The nickname was what his friends called him.
On a dawn hike you saw a giant, big-chested deer with sprawling, pointed antlers and you felt a little uneasy. He outweighed you, big-time, and he looked aggressive. Interesting.
Once you followed laughter coming from a woodland brook and saw a couple skinny dipping. Oops. You crept away quickly. But it was interesting.
Once you saw a red fox cross your trail. You saw a snake but couldn’t identify the make and model, just that it was colied, shining and primeval, with a darting forked tongue and no fear.
Once you went for a hike in the woods and saw nothing special. No interesting birds. The trail was quiet. No other people, no snakes, foxes, nothing. You just hiked for an hour or so, then left. That was unusual, seeing nothing noteworthy. Then it hit you: Hey, that was the interesting thing. Something interesting had happened after all. It never fails.
