JOHN PEPIN

“Cobwebs and dust, I hate to leave you but leave you I must,” – Gordon Lightfoot

It’s late in the wee, wee hours and I have spent the last few moments on the inside looking out — glancing through window glass from the near side of the kitchen sink, trying to get a feel for what it might be like out there in the darkness.

Sometimes, I can hear indicators like the rushing sound of strong winds revealing a storm brewing or feel the sensation of a floorboard-hugging cold draft oozing thinly around my feet when the temperature might be reading well below zero just a few inches away beyond the warmth measured on this side of the insulated kitchen walls.

On clear nights, I can occasionally see most of the features of the surrounding landscape — even from a comfortable seat at the dining room table — thanks to the light of a full moon that bathes everything in a cool and flat, metallic type of blue-gray glow.

However, in times like right now during this very early morning assessment, there are no real clues to reveal the outdoor conditions with any real degree of certainty.

So, it’s out the back door I go.

This is where the real adventure begins.

I shake off the limiting confines of window frames, ceilings, walls and other features of the house that block my ability to gain a clearer sense of those things happening outside.

The tallest of nighttime’s shadows can conceal a whole world in blackness.

Just taking the simple actions of opening the inside door and then pushing the metal storm door wide can make things happen not only for me, but for the creatures of the night who react to my disrupting sounds in various ways.

Depending on the atmospheric conditions when those doors are opened, the noise heard out in the backyard can range from relatively quiet and soft to jarring and intrusive – seemingly amplified and broadcast over a loudspeaker.

Anyone who has ever slammed a car door on an icy winter’s night knows doing so can send a sonic shock wave out over a wide area, echoing an indication of your presence.

I have a habit of taking these relatively brief trips out the back and front doors of our house. Sometimes, they might include a little walk around the yard and down the driveway or simply standing on the concrete in the front or back taking in what there is to experience.

Doing this has let me in on cool happenings I never would have known about if I had stayed in the house.

On this early September morning, I stepped out the kitchen doors barefoot.

The concrete was cold, unlike just a few hours earlier when I had taken a similar check on the outside world.

It was dark then too, but the bricks and concrete were radiating the warmth from the sun they had stored up during the day. The difference in temperature between inside and outside wasn’t nearly as striking then as it was now.

Almost immediately, I felt a cool breeze moving with some speed and ability blowing across my legs from my knees on down to my toes. The wind was stiff enough to move the cloth bed of the hammock.

Overhead, I could see several constellations, including Orion the Hunter, who was chasing game just over the tops of the trees at the back of the property, with the Seven Sisters from Greek mythology gathered not too far away.

At the edge of the night sky, I noticed clouds beginning to slide in that would soon obscure the view of the stars. The humidity was low and the humming din of passing traffic at least a mile away was easy to hear.

The absence of any bird sounds indicated to me this was not a springtime or early summer night when any of several species keyed up for nesting activities might send out at least a few peeps into the night for any potential mate to enjoy.

The relative silence now told me this was likely an autumn evening with so many of the birds already flown for the coming winter season.

I soaked up as much as I could of the cool air in deep breaths. I closed my eyes to let that silence imbue my whole everything to sink in as far as it could go.

I focused my mind on relaxing all my body parts and exhaling my tension. I visualized that discomfort trailing like smoke rolling out of me and curling up into the air above me, rapidly dissipating in the chilly blackness.

I can readily recommend these types of encounters with nature, however brief. They nearly always provide me with a respite of self-care and discovery, energizing me and clearing my mind of cobwebs and dust.

Going to the door to see what exactly is out there reminds me of the “Mystery Date” board game from the mid-1960s that my sister got for her birthday one year.

The television commercial advertising the game invited players look outside to reveal the character of their mystery date.

“When you open the door, will your date be a dream or a dud,” the announcer asked.

The “dream” date showed a guy in a turtleneck, wearing a jacket, jeans and stylish boots, carrying a bowling bag. The dud was dressed in work boots, oversized pants pulled up past the waist and a saggy, long-sleeved shirt with the collar out of place.

Over the past week, my door openings have left me with a little of both.

On a couple nights, I walked out into softly falling raindrops, only providing enough precipitation to fill up a thimble. It was warm and dreamy.

On another night, I was greeted with the immediately recognizable scent of skunk. The next day, we found holes the animal had dug in several places in the yard – dud.

A doe and her two fawns have visited the yard over several days and nights. I usually hear them galloping off when I open the back doors.

I have also heard coyotes and loons trying to outdo each other in their volleys of calls from opposite ends of the night’s blackened corners.

Outings at other times of the year have resulted in everything from firefly displays, hermit thrush serenades, hooting owls and flying squirrel flights to meteor showers, thunder and lightning storms, woodchucks and weasels and trees toppling encased in ice or howling snowstorms.

On the best of these nights, I’ll extend my stay to an hour or two spent sitting around a crackling campfire in the backyard or with a half-awake view of the sky from that hammock.

Especially during those busy times when work, family or other pursuits don’t allow me time to take a trip to the woods, these quick little outings to the yard for a few minutes are certainly worth the time.

They allow me to sort out my senses and what they are detecting in clear, definable ways, while I am putting together pieces of the scene to better understanding my surroundings.

This also gives me practice time to become more proficient at tuning out various humanmade noises to focus on the sounds of nature.

In turn, this provides a greater ability to disconnect from stress and anxiety to reveal the even greater powers of nature to heal and restore.

Fast forward about three hours and I again slip out the back door to the yard with the first light of dawn starting to scare the shadows back underneath the trees and around the corners of the house.

At first, I think the wind has stopped with the leaves on the trees not moving, but then, like a jet aircraft, I hear the wind whooshing before I see the leaves begin to sway back and forth like a pine-shaped air freshener hanging from a rearview mirror.

In the woods off the backyard, I hear a branch cracking under the weight of something heavy. I wait to hear it again to give my ears more information. Meanwhile, I start running down the list of possibilities and rest on likely a deer.

But then, I hear the sound again, but the cracking of the tree is much louder, and the branch broken certainly bigger.

My mind arrives at three potential suspects: a person, a bear or a hungry sasquatch.

Further limiting the possibilities by likelihood, I think it is most likely a black bear.

I am immediately excited for more time to investigate this further in the days and nights ahead. Not hearing anymore trees cracking, I return to the house.

But the game has now begun.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Outdoors North is a weekly column produced by the Michigan Department of Natural Resources on a wide range of topics important to those who enjoy and appreciate Michigan’s world-class natural resources of the Upper Peninsula.