The water release from the dam has diminished, and the marsh trail is open again although it is muddy and it is obvious from the recently drowned vegetation how high the water had been in certain places. Not much is going on; it's likely a bit too cold for snakes, although a pair of turtles are sitting on a log out in the pond; as I walk by on the boardwalk, which is littered with leaves, they slide back into the water. A few variegated meadowhawk dragonflies land on the boardwalk and then fly away again; a bright orange question mark butterfly lands on some of the browning vegetation and opens its wings, sunning in the waning late afternoon light.
I walk down the boardwalk to the small blind, and am struck by the lighting amongst the cattails. I pause for a minute. I am thankful, grateful, full of awe, to be in this moment in this place as the early winter light strikes the cattails and shines through it. I take a photo, knowing that the results will be only a weak depiction of what I am seeing, but needing to document it anyway. This is the day before Thanksgiving, after all, and it is a time to consider what we are thankful for. I am thankful for many things but in this moment I am filled with gratitude for my mud-caked boots, for the winter sparrows chirping in the distance, for the osprey flying overhead carrying his own early Thanksgiving dinner of a fish, for the cold but fresh air, for the sunlight filtering through the cattails, for this moment of peace in a chaotic world.
Later, when I look at my pictures, I will see the light illuminating the individual strands of the cattail spike, along with tiny seeds that were not visible to my eyes on the trail.
As I continue on, I see some American coots on the water; as I get closer, one flies away and then the others, equally startled by my presence, take off. In the distance, I can see what could be gadwalls, but I can't be sure. I leave the marsh behind and head into the wooded upland portion of the trail; here the sparrows are plentiful, and a pair of bright red Northern cardinals fly from branch to branch, evading a clean line of sight. Just as I move to continue my walk, a beautiful white-throated sparrow alights on a branch and I get my photo. A few months ago, the indigo and painted buntings were in the same tree, but now they are gone. Winter is nearly here.
I look down and see some feathers on the ground; I wonder what goes on around this trail when people are not here. I hear rustling near the trail, and look up; what has to be the largest armadillo I have ever seen is rooting around in dead leaves. As the armadillo moves on, a brown thrasher appears under a nearby tree and then flies off as I proceed towards the trailhead and my car; the preserve will be closing soon and it is time to get home; green bean casserole preparation awaits.
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