Introduction
I feel like an invader walking in the woods on these early July mornings. Baby turkeys with their mothers, a clutch of young quail, bunnies playing hide and seek, the young spike buck still in velvet, and innumerable hidden nests with peeps like an amateur orchestra tuning up -- they are at home here, and I try to walk softly.
Buck and I discovered a nursery of granddaddy longlegs of all sizes. Question: What are the metaphysical implications of being born a granddaddy?
