It’s amazing what starts moving when I stop moving. On a hike recently, I decided to stop walking. I put my pack down on a patch of leaves and plunked my bottom next to it. It felt good to stop moving. My dog, Scout, followed my lead and laid horizontal on the hillside. From this vantage under a canopy of deciduous and evergreen trees, I opened my senses and took in the landscape.
The ground was soft and warm. Despite being a 90+ degree day, the air temperature at ground level was cool, maybe mid-80s, with a light breeze. It felt cozy, like I could nestle into the leaves and take a long nap. I could hear a mountain stream flowing just over the hillside beyond my view and I imagined watching it flow over rocks and branches landing in small pools. That would be the next stop on our ramble. A clump of little brown gilled mushrooms grew out of the fallen birch log next to me. They weren’t the only fungi on the tree; a shelf mushroom and slime mold also grew on the decomposing log. Songbirds flitted in and out of trees above. A squirrel ran up a red oak tree. Two chipmunks chased each other back and forth along the forest floor. Scout whined and sat up panting next to me; her breath felt hot and wet against my arm. I turned my head uphill and watched a bird of prey swoop through the understory just catching the corner of my eye. I smiled.
Nature starts when I stop. This experience of stopping and tuning in to the real Nature Channel allowed me to see wildlife being wild--interacting with one another without being on guard to my presence. I can do this anywhere and for any length of time. Before getting up to check out the mountain stream, I made a mental note to tune in again and again. This is entertainment worth watching.