The green, green grass of home

The green, green grass of home

As the lyrics of an old Tom Jones song from 1966 say, “It’s good to touch the green, green grass of home.”

I agree, and though the grass in our north Wisconsin neck of the woods isn’t showing much green just yet, being able to walk without wading through knee-deep snow on recent spring days has made hikes through familiar woods good for both body and soul.

I’ll admit that I had a great time this winter as I put on just over 200 miles of cross-country skiing according to my daily logs, but it sure feels good to have dry ground to walk on around my favorite small lakes and other pieces of the woods I have grown up with over the last 76 years.

I know that walking, whether on campground roads not yet open to vehicle traffic or on other dirt roads that go through each winter without a snowplow touching them, or just wandering hither and yon through woods I know like the back of my hands, I really appreciate the freedom to walk virtually anywhere; it is like a time of rebirth for me each and every spring.

Already, I have made several fine acquaintances on my woods walk this spring. That would include a very early get-together, almost two weeks ago, along the upper reaches of Plum Creek, where two Canada geese, a pair of mallards, and four hooded mergansers greeted me, not necessarily with welcoming arms but at least with a brief quack or two, with a honk thrown in by the geese. Those friends I met on a short walk through what was then fairly deep snow most of the way to reach them.

One of the prettiest little lakes you can find in my neck of the woods is Firefly Lake — still called Weber Lake by me, as it was named decades ago.

I walked in from over past Little John Jr. Lake, finding the gravel road there mostly barren of snow. Along the way, I renewed acquaintances with certain huge old oaks which have been friends for a long time, along with a couple of balsam fir that would make excellent Christmas trees were it not for the fact I would never even think for a moment about cutting a 40-foot-tall tree just for its eight-foot top.

I talked to the trees as I passed by, greeting a couple of chipmunks on my recent walk along Firefly, as well as an amiable pileated woodpecker.

With no other humans around to upset even the slightest bit of peaceful solitude that surrounded me with every step around the shoreline of Firefly, I took my own good time making the hike last as long as I could.

What is usually lake water right up to banks covered with brush, oak, pine and birch trees there is a fairly wide sand beach surrounding Firefly this spring, and it was while slowly picking my way along it that I got a good close-up look with binoculars at a drake common merganser, resplendent in his breeding tuxedo of pure white body plumage and brilliant green head.

Red squirrels chattered at me here and there along the way, and believe it or not just to make it seem more like the Tom Jones carpet of home, there were a couple spots where for some reason known only to Mother Nature there were clumps of bright green grass standing out from all the drab brown leaves and pine needles covering most of the lake shore.

Walking through the Razorback Lake campground has yielded the spying of a clump or two here and there of last year’s grass still sporting some green as well, but better yet attracting some friends to greet me, including a gobbler that didn’t hear me coming up over a knoll where he was busy chowing down on a table spread heavily with acorns that came down last fall.

Half a dozen deer were on hand as well, probably looking for some of that green grass I speak of, along with, I imagine, a goodly number of acorns.

It’s always fun each year to see the first robin of spring, and I can tell you there are a goodly bunch of them right now anywhere you walk through the woods.

Better yet, on my recent walk at Razorback, a pair of the most beautiful ducks God ever created, wood ducks that are, were not disturbed in the least when I put in an appearance along the shoreline where they were slowly drifting along a mere 20 yards or so from me.

Trust me, a drake wood duck, especially when wearing his resplendent courting garments, is a sight always to be treasured, especially when he shows them off to you at close range.

So it is as springtime continues to unfold in north Wisconsin, that I will set out on all kinds of like walks before leaves burst out on every tree branch, each time finding something exciting — at least in my book exciting — something like a surprised coyote taking off like a drag racer when a certain human quietly crested a hill on almost noiseless wet leaves.

Soon there will be green grass, lots of it, wherever you and I may walk in the woods. Along with all the wild owners of the woods, we’ll claim it at least partly for ourselves.