Dog Joy by Edna B. Wilson

We wander the marshes next to Rock River drinking in the breezes of the summer day. Redwing black birds atop swaying brown cattails reeds scream and dive at us as we tromp through their muddy space. Turtles, eyes bulging, stare and pull all their parts inside their moveable home; which doesn't keep Dakota and Bear from carrying them with us for part of our trek.

Dakota and Bear walk out onto limbs of the massive half dead oak lying on its side, scouting the marsh for activity. Acres of marsh on this back forty that will never see a bulldozer. Though this isn’t my land, I have always claimed it as such and here where no one can see me, no one seems to mind. Deer stands overlook the marsh, hidden in oak trees much of the year.

Narrow deer trails wind through the woods and spit out onto the marsh, bringing us closer to where we want to be. Two yellow Labrador tails fly as they pick up a scent and double-team their unsuspecting prey. They are gone and all I can see is a path of waving grasses. Off to chase a Sand Hill crane, whitetail deer or wild turkey? Bouncing in the air to see over the grasses, they look for their prey, and move in for the chase. It doesn’t matter. It’s all in the day.

It is the meandering and wandering that gives me life as it did when I was a child. There is no sense of time when we wander . . . I too am focused on finding that rabbit or squirrel. And when we return home, we’re tired and full and satisfied. We rest and twitch in our dreams of the next days adventure.

Edna B Wilson
(WWTW March, 1989, Lake Delavan, WI.)