There’s a Regional Water Authority property near my house and it has a wooded trail. It’s pleasant to walk on because the Mill River, which is really a stream runs next to it. The sound of moving waters forms a tranquil babble and soothes the passersby.

The only drawback is the deer population, which attracts and deposits ticks. And since it’s a non-improved, wild trail some of the older, dead trees could be widow makers.

The woods are noisy today. Blue jays, cardinals, blackbirds. I take the spur of the path that goes down by the stream and find two ducks, a mallard drake and his frumpy drab wife feeding on duckweed along the shores. A red tailed hawk in transitional phase, morphing from winter to summer coloring flies over. A loud little bird, not sure what it is- only it looks like a nuthatch, but it’s not, warbles a deep throaty song, which reminds me of a woman in the throes of pleasure. The hawk brings Bruce Jenner to mind. Also in a transitional phase. I think about Kathy, the first transgender person I ever knew and wonder if she’s even alive. That was in 1981. I think about Bruce’s brother; Burt and Sally Hutchins who died together in Bruce’s loaner Porsche. Too fast on a backwoods New England road. That was 38 years ago.  And like the old radio commentator said; “Time Marches On.”

My only thought is I hope Bruce is happy. He deserves it. Gave America a lot of entertainment and prestige.

The trail by the river takes a turn right and climbs a hill to a baseball field. I cross the field thinking; “This would be a great place to watch stars and comets and meteors and the aurora borealis.”

Walking back the cheep, cheep, cheep of cardinals are all around. They start slow and then quicken like; “cheeeep, cheeep, cheep, cheepcheepcheep. Then I see the otter. Not an aquatic, animal otter, but the tall, lanky, pelty otter on a minibike. I’ve seen him going to the Henny Penny for cigarettes. Now he’s asking if his bike is too loud, I tell him no, I never hear it. He’s handsome.

On my porch in the sun, I see one final bird, a vulture soaring down the river to the south. I can tell it’s a vulture because it tips from side to side, its body the axis, as it catches the wind.