Frozen Footsteps

By James Holtzclaw, Interpretive Naturalist

“I took a walk in the woods and came out taller than the trees.” 

 – Henry David Thoreau 

As I exit my office and step onto the snow-covered trail, the sunlight captivates me by how it reflects off the snow, enhancing the natural beauty surrounding me. The pines and cedars bathe in the sun’s rays, illuminating their green, lush form, inviting the chickadee and the titmouse to rest on their branches while they forage on the fall’s remaining seeds and berries. These birds seem to enjoy this moment, for their chatter resonates through Ox Bow County Park, letting every visitor know they are here. Then, a blue jay lands in a nearby pine tree and perches on a snowy limb, causing white powder to cascade to the ground. This cunning blue-gray bird listens to its surroundings and then takes on the voice of a hawk, silencing its feathered neighbors.  

As I continue my short journey, I cannot help but notice the sounds of my feet. Each time I step on the white trail, a crunch punctures this winter wonderland’s stillness. But my footprints are not the only signs of wandering.  Many V-shaped tracks cross the trail into one of the park’s meadows. I stand still, gazing out into this frosty grassland, watching three young white-tailed deer trying to graze in the snow-laden field. I admire their persistence but do not envy them. Their struggle to find food at this time of year is a challenge faced by many generations. I ponder their existence in the park. The park protects them from hunters, allowing them to occasionally sneak a free meal at the bird-feeding stations. When winter arrives, these elegant creatures face the challenges of harsh winds and sub-zero temperatures. To shield themselves from the cold, they often hunker down in the snow or seek shelter in the ravines. Will these deer survive the winter? I do not know. At least they are not alone; every creature in this park grapples with Mother Nature’s fury during this time of year. 

I walk forward onto the trail, observing the trees dressed in white. A layer of snow rests on their bare limbs. I can find plenty of things to look at in the canopy of the forest. The trees’ branches cradle several empty bird nests. In the spring and summer, they symbolize hope and life. Now, they are frozen sculptors serving as reminders that there are seasons to life and that change is common in our natural world. Then I spot red squirrels and black squirrels. These little climbers don’t mind the change. They continue to scamper up and down the trees, knocking the snow off the boughs and onto my jacket. Their noisy chatters echo through the forest, telling me to leave so they can forage in peace.  I obey their commands and leave them to their prowling.   

Walking alone in this snowy landscape, observing Mother Nature’s beauty, allows the mind to wander. Although I may not be wearing a heavy backpack with heavy gear, my mind alerts me to the burdens I carry on this trail. I often think about past breakups, a friend’s death, chances I didn’t take, and the hearts I broke. Also, I think about my past adventures, eating a favorite meal with a friend, and having deep conversations with my mentors. On this walk, while thinking about a situation, I find myself asking, “What would Dr. T or Dr. Swafford say about this or that?” So, a short walk in the woods can be very emotional and soothing to the soul. 

Having company is also good while walking. Humans are not meant to explore alone! We need compassion and empathy while walking our paths together. I have many favorite moments with friends on hiking trails. Seeing elk, bald eagles, or black bears together will create memories that will linger a long time. I admit, I need company today to share these beautiful moments with the birds, deer, and squirrels.  

So, I miss my hiking companion. When there’s snow on the ground, she enjoys identifying animal prints. She always points to them and comments with excitement, “Those are turkey prints!” or “Those are raccoon prints!” When she spots cat prints, she notes how small they are compared to the others, and then she says, “They are so darn cute.”  

I pull on my beloved green beanie to keep my ears warm against the crisp air. It is more than an accessory. My hiking companion made this crochet beanie for me to have for these frigid treks. With each wear, it’s as if she’s right beside me, sharing the adventure and joy of the great outdoors. Even as I roam this snowy wonderland alone, I carry her spirit with me. This handmade beanie is a constant reminder of the experiences we shared and the trails we’ve explored together. 

I stop at my destination, at an Eastern Red Cedar tree. I love this evergreen tree, especially when it’s covered in white, fluffy snow. This tree, dressed in white, deserves a place in a snow globe to capture this moment. Eastern Red Cedars aren’t cedars but are junipers. They produce small blue-like berries, which are used in making gin, one of my favorite alcoholic beverages. Birders have discovered Cedar Waxwings sprawled on the ground after consuming too many berries. 

I’m not here to taste the berries; I’m here to find my friend, the Barred Owl. If not daily, then weekly, I visit my feathered friend, who likes to perch in this tree. He is the park’s unofficial mascot. Visitors note that he has been living at Ox Bow County Park for about three years. I stare through the branches, searching for him. He likes to blend in the branches’ shade, hiding from me and others. This time, I find him at the top, next to the trunk. His black and white feathers are puffed out, creating a barrier from the wind and the snow.  His rounded facial disc stoops with his eyes peering at me. Then he opens his mouth, allowing something to fall to the ground. What is it?  A gift for me?  I walk over to discover a grayish, soft substance lying in the snow. It’s an owl pellet!  One of twenty on the ground.  At least this owl is eating well during the chilly nights.    

I leave my friend alone and walk towards my office. As I listen to the satisfying crunch of snow beneath my feet, a Pileated Woodpecker’s cry echoes through the trees. This woodpecker’s cry reminds me that I may be physically alone, but I am not truly alone.