Once while walking at Steinke Basin, I came face to face with a coyote. It was a breezy day so the sounds of my footsteps were muffled, and apparently I was downwind.
As I rounded a corner on the trail, a dog was walking toward me. I immediately started looking for its human companion, thinking to greet it and then wait until its person caught up.
But with no human in sight, I realized this wasn’t a dog, it was a coyote. By then, we were nearing each other. We shared a look as if to say “good morning,” then we both kept walking. As the coyote trotted past me, I turned and watched it go into the woods.
When I tell this story, the first question people invariably ask is, “Were you afraid?”
I wasn’t – not at all. My heart rate remained calm, my breath remained steady, and my fight or flight system didn’t kick in. I was in a grounded place of curiosity. So was the coyote. My calm nervous system showed him I had only good intentions.
It might have been a different experience had this happened at the beginning of my walk when I still had an active monkey mind, carrying whatever heavy energy had accumulated since my last hike. Nature worked its magic, so instead of reacting from a place of fear, I had a moment of connection with a wild creature.
Fifteen years earlier when I first began walking alone in nature, I almost certainly wouldn’t have reacted calmly. Then, any noise startled me and caused me to look around my environment for the threat. I was hypervigilant, always alert to danger.
Gradually I relaxed. The more time I spent in nature, the more grounded I became. The sense of being safe and secure helped me feel far less fearful than ever before in my life. I could be at ease in nature and soak up the healing it offered.
When we’re not used to nature, we might be uncomfortable until we learn to decode the sounds around us. When it’s windy, tree branches can rub together and sound like a human moaning. I now smile to myself when this happens and recognize it as the trees having a conversation.
Pileated woodpeckers have a primal cackling call that initially caught me off guard and engaged my startle response. Now they are my friends, and I eagerly listen for their cry as a homing beacon to aid in spotting them.
I’ve discovered that small, low-slung animals like squirrels make a lot of noise because they rustle through the underbrush and disturb all the leaf litter on the forest floor. Larger animals like deer and coyote make less noise because they put a foot down here and there.
After several years of regular visits to Steinke Basin, the overlying land spirit of the Baraboo Hills came and briefly took human form. He walked with me through a part of the forest and told me this message, “You don’t need to be afraid. There is nothing out here that can hurt you. You can call to me whenever you need.” My heart opened in gratitude and the rest of my fear melted away.
Now when I feel eyes on me in the woods, I look around with curiosity to locate the bird, animal, or nature spirit who might be watching me. I’m no longer afraid.
I’ve wondered what it would be like to see a bear, bobcat, or timber rattler on my hikes, all occasional visitors to the Baraboo Hills. I imagine it would be much like my encounter with the coyote. If I was relaxed, grounded, and at ease, it would be a moment of connection with another living creature. I would savor the experience and reflect on the wonders of nature before continuing on.
This work is real, and it matters.
(This picture is a coyote from another encounter at Steinke.)
October 26, 2021