Fuzzy

A swamp has the soul of a woman. She is often not what she appears and harbors secrets she may have forgotten herself. She will pull you in and turn you around. Leaving you lost in her tangles only to set you free somehow changed and richer for being lost within her. Some curse her, some flirt with her, some love her, and only very few ever understand her and come to terms with her. All who know her will be changed in some way by her. It is her nature, she cannot help it. Always changing and yet constant in her stability. She is a study of contrasts. Young girl, mother and old lady combined and wrapped in timeless dress of green growth and hidden mystery.

I first chose to delve her mysteries in the hunt for wild boar. There are two wildlife management areas within a few hours drive from my home. They join to each other and total about 100,000 acres of swampland, hammocks, palmetto scrub and hardwoods. Even the wildlife biologists who are assigned to the area will admit they have no idea of the exact animal population there. The area is too large and too thickly grown to do an accurate study. Many people are passing acquaintances of her, few venture deep enough to truly know her. I have passed many pleasant days with her. I never brought home any game although I had several chances to do so. It was always enough to walk through this green wonderland. There is something about a swamp that refills my soul. On a foggy morning when the mists rise with the first gray rays of the sun, visibility is cut to a few feet. You hear the sounds of an alligator slipping into a pool and you feel as though you have stepped backwards in time a million years.

Most of my jaunts were merely pleasant explorations of a timeless realm. Then one day I left the trail behind. I ventured over a mile into her depths. Cypress trees towered above me and my footsteps made squishing sounds in the soft ground. That is when I first saw the tracks. The ground was so muddy and sloppy that I couldn’t see any detail about the foot that made them. I could only tell that they were about four inches bigger than my size eleven and one half boot. I followed them to a dead tree. Its bark had been stripped off roughly six feet above the ground and something had been digging in it for grubs. "Perhaps a bear", I wondered? The tracks lead away from the tree and into a thickly grown section of swamp. Tall reeds and undergrowth blocked my vision and my path. I started to follow, but then I heard something large move within the growth. Reeds shifted and swayed. The water and muck betrayed the movements of something large hidden in thicket. I thought to myself, "If it’s a bear, it’s a damned big one." I turned and left it in peace.

The next strange thing happened when I was with a group of three other hunters. I had spotted a group of wild hogs and began trailing them. I soon encountered the group of three hunters who were also tracking the boars. For three hours we followed the hogs through the swamp. We would separate, trying to drive them towards each other. Then we would band together, hoping to concentrate our eyesight. Nothing we tried worked. Finally, we all stopped deep in the swamp. It was just a little clearing in what was otherwise a jungle of moss, cypress trees and vines. We stood around talking about the ones that got away the way men do. Suddenly a mighty roar split the air around us and I felt the hair on the back of neck rise in response. I cannot describe it adequately because I'd never heard anything like it. It was not the sound a gator makes when it roars, not like a puma or a bear or even a hog. It was extremely loud and very close to us. The sound started with a guttural roar. Birthed deep in the belly of a beast we could not see. The pitch climbed in the ten seconds it lasted. As the pitch rose, it became a throat tearing scream that sounded almost, but not quite, human. The echoes faded through the little clearing. We stood and stared at each other with our eyes wide. Suddenly, our rifles felt very small. The next sound was the “click”, “click”, “click”, “click” as the safeties of four rifles moved to the off position. One hunter’s voice cracked a little and his eyes were wide, "That ain't no hog!" The second hunter whispered, "Not a gator." The last tracker exclaimed, "That damn sure ain't no cat or deer, and I ain’t never heard no bear like that!" I offered the only idea that sprang to my mind, "Think we should head back?" The three agreed in one hasty voice, "Yup!" We kept glancing over our shoulders on our way out. However, we neither saw nor heard anything else from the owner of the voice. A lesson was learned, she will give up her secrets in her time she will not abide being rushed.

Another bit of strangeness bubbled out of the swamp one day I was wandering along the edge of the swamp. It was an area where a plane of palmettos gave way to pines and oaks. I made my way around this borderland of the swamp. I came to a small grove of young pines. The trees were roughly three to four inches in diameter. I noticed one young tree in the middle of the grove was dead from about feet off the ground to its top. I walked over to see what had caused this. It was not a deer scrape. Nor was it a bullet hole that caused its demise. The tree had been twisted. Like a person would take a green twig in both hands and twist it opposite directions, making the wood fibers separate. This is what had been done to the tree. The bottom part of the tree was still straight. However, the top part had been twisted around two hundred and seventy degrees due to whatever had twisted the trunk. I wondered if it was caused by a storm, or small tornado. But, the other trees not three feet from it stood untouched. Not a limb was out of place on those, no deadfall on the ground. No sign of insects or animals. I shrugged, chalked it up to, “one of her things” and moved on.

I walked roughly a mile farther and a little deeper into the swamp. I spotted a large tree that had fallen and was leaning against another tree. It was solid and I climbed up the slanting trunk and sat on it roughly twelve feet above ground. She had provided me with a perch this afternoon. I sat there for almost an hour. I neither saw nor heard anything other than birds, squirrels and the occasional buzzing mosquito. Then, I heard rustling coming in a straight line through the brush. A large dog if indeterminate breeding came into view. He was pure white, except for red ears. His nose was down to a trail invisible to me. He was an arrow in white fur on the hunt. I whistled and called. He paused in mid-stride and his huge head swung toward me. His tail wagged but a single time. It was a greeting between hunters of her secrets. Then, nose down again, he was off again. Relentless is the hunt.

Another hour slipped away in the flutter and chirp of tiny flitting birds sharing my perch. Then, I heard something large moving through the bush towards me. I could not see it but I could hear it. It sounded as though it was almost muttering to itself as it moved along. I could hear leaves being brushed aside, I could see brush moving. Almost as if the creature was searching for insects, lizards and small animals among the leaves and brush. It was not grunting like a hog. A low and guttural muttering sound is best way I can describe it. My perch was upwind from it and a rank, musky scent wafted towards me. I sat perfectly still and hoped to catch a glimpse of the unseen creature. However, the wind shifted and it caught my scent. It did not move for fifteen of the longest minutes I have ever sat through. Then I heard it start slowly moving away in the direction from which it came. The only sound was the rustle of something large moving slowly away though the dense brush.

I like to take weekdays off to visit her if I can. On these days, I often have her largely to myself. It is on days like this I feel closest to her and I feel she shares the most with me. It was on just such a day that I spent the morning happily wandering through the cypress. By the time afternoon came I had found a game trail and started to follow it. I had not seen nor heard another person the entire day I followed the trail two or three miles within her depths. It appeared to be a promising trail I did not see another boot track on the trail or any marker tape. There were only deer and hog tracks on the trail. I brushed spider webs off my face as I passed. It seemed as though I was the first person to come this way in some time. I follow the trail deeper into the swamp, winding through thickets and cypress roots. Eventually, I came to the heart of her. Just beyond was the birthplace of the river that flows from her. I could hear the water’s movement through the trees and smell the dampness in the air. There the trail joined with another that ran parallel to the river. The river formed about forty yards through the woods beyond the where the trails meet and formed a T with each other. I heard a movement in the woods beyond the top of the T. I looked, but whatever was making the noise was hidden by the woods that lie between the river and the game trail. I found a spot just off where the two trails cross and concealed myself under overhanging limbs and vines. I sat on the damp ground and waited. From that spot I could see up the trail I just ventured down. By turning my head left I could see down the trail that makes the top of the T to the west. By turning to the right I could see up the trail east. This was a good spot; I was hidden and could easily watch the three intersecting trails. I sat in silence for two hours listening to the song of the river springing to life. Then I heard the movement again. The sound was behind me and moving slowly to my left and forward towards the trail. Whatever was moving in the woods should cross the trail about fifty yards to my left. I did not turn my head. I sat perfectly still, listening to the movement. The movement stopped and all was quite. Slowly I turned my head and looked down the trail. At first, I was a little disappointed because I did not see a boar standing on the trail. I reminded myself to study everything. Things are often not what they first seem when dealing with her. It was then I noticed that a gap between a leaning tree and a straight tree was now filled. I could see clearly through that gap before. I wondered what could be filling the space. I remember thinking that it was big whatever it was. Slowly, I raised my rifle and put the scope to my eye to get a better look.

I was shaken by my own disbelief. I could not be seeing what I thought I was seeing. It must be shadow, perhaps a bear or another hunter. Simply, my mind could not believe the secret she was sharing with me. With shaking hands I lowered the rifle, and looked up the trail ahead. Nothing was there. I looked up the trail to my right. Once again, the trail was empty. Lastly, I slowly turned my head and looked down the trail to my left. It was still there. Slowly I raised my rifle again. Turning up the zoom of the scope this time so I could get a closer look and see more detail. So I could be sure of what was filling the gap. I took a deep breath to settle my shaking hands. I could feel the slickness of the rifle stock in my sweating hands. What I saw that afternoon was standing primarily upright but hunched slightly in order to hide as much as possible behind the two trees. Hair roughly three inches long and the color of dead pine needles covered his body. The hair was a little longer on his head and shoulders. I could see it was decidedly male. One large hand was resting on the leaning tree. The fingers were hairless, creased at the joints, dark and thick as was the opposable thumb. He appeared to be around six feet six inches tall. I judged the weight at somewhere between three hundred and fifty to four hundred pounds. His face was broad, flat, dark and hairless. His ears were hidden by the hair of his head. The nose was flat and broad with a wide mouth underneath it. From underneath a brow ridge, deep brown eyes looked back at me. I have seen orangutans, gorillas, and chimps at zoos. This was an ape face, but unlike any I've seen before. Yet, the eyes were different. The eyes that looked back at me held something that I had never seen in the eyes of an ape. There was a certain “something” there. A certain intelligence, a certain wisdom, a certain curiosity. Perhaps mingled with a trace of a sadness I couldn’t know but could sense.

For a split second, I thought about pulling the trigger. I could have sent a bullet between those deep brown eyes. But, the thought only lasted a second before I was ashamed of myself for having it pop into my mind. Yes, I could have ended a mystery. Yet, there is a cost to everything in her depths. This cost would have involved hordes of people tromping through his home. Searching, tracking hoping to film, tag and invade. This creature meant me no harm. It was just watching me watching it. It seemed more curious than anything. Now frozen that I'd spotted it and unsure of what to do. How long had it been out here? Living in peace, wild and free. Could there be others? Who was I to dare take it upon myself to dare change that? How could I shut those magnificent eyes forever? How could I change forever what they see? She had shared a secret with me; I was not fool enough to betray her. I nodded at him and he shifted a little. I slowly lowered the rifle and looked away. This was my way of offering him an invitation for an exit. I heard the sound of movement but did not look. After five minutes I turned my head and he was gone. I walked over to the two trees and measured myself against them. I had guessed the height about right. Large five toed tracks led off into the woods at stride feet longer than mine. I took an apple from my pocket and wedged it into the fork of an overhanging branch. Hoping that he would find it and understand it was a peace offering of sorts. Also, a kind of “thank you” to her. I shouldered my rifle and walked back to my truck.

When I stopped my truck at the check station the game warden asked me, "See anything?" "Nope”, I replied before driving off down the rutted sand road. She tells her secrets to those she chooses at the time of her choosing. Maybe someday she will tell him as well. It would not be my place to do so.