While out foraging for culinary mushrooms a few years back, my partner and I noticed a large bone. We see animal bones on occasion as we wander off trail, so neither of us registered a threat. Animals die every day. When their flesh has been consumed by creatures or elements, bones remain.
As we walked further into the woods, we saw several more clusters of bones, but the mushrooms we found kept us hopping excitedly from one crouching position to the next… and one bone to the next.
What we didn’t register was that these bones, though bare of flesh, were fresh.
We were about a quarter mile or more from the road where our senior black lab mix waited faithfully in the car, windows open for air. We were close enough to road that we weren’t likely to become hopelessly lost, but far enough that if we shouted, none of the passing cars would hear. Especially not with their windows rolled tight to keep out the damp fall air.
We wandered into a small, promising clearing. The mushrooms we sought do well in airy forests, so we generally steer away from dense trees and tangled understories. But across the clearing about twenty feet away, the trees converged into a thick darkness. Eyes glued to the ground, we took no notice.
As we scanned the forest floor, a low growl emerged from the shadows. I looked up and peered deep into the blackness but couldn’t make out a single shape or form. I noticed my partner tense his body and my wilderness training kicked in. “Don’t run. Back away slowly and talk loudly with me.”
I can’t remember what words came out but we talked with firm, confident voices as we inched our way back over roots, bones, and unharvested mushrooms. Moisture hung in the air, muffling our footsteps as we plodded our way somewhat miraculously to safety over the uneven ground.
Lucky for us, we never saw what the creature in the woods looked like. For all I know, there could have been a prince trapped in the body of a beast, cursed by sorcerers to eternal loneliness. The depth of the darkness we faced gives me a new respect for fairy tales.
Safe at home, our initial research into the encouter led to no clear conclusion. Bears don’t tend to eat large animals consistent with the bones we found, and their growls sound nothing like what we heard. Only a few wolves had been found in the entire state, and those had been seen in a different mountain range.
For some reason we didn’t consider the most likely scenario, and it wasn’t until over a year later that pieced it together. Odds are we had been face-to-shadow with a mountain lion with nothing but three knives for protection (two of which were pocket knives).
Thankfully, the story ended with tummies full of mushrooms and a forest creature left (mostly) in peace. But the situation could have ended any number of ways. Believe me, I’ll be taking careful note of bones in the forest in the future.
What bones do you wander past in your own life?
This week we got a little spooky. Next week we’re getting even spookier with an exploration of fear. We’ll look at the ways we collectively celebrate fear around Halloween, how to tell when we should heed the warnings of our fears, and the lessons waiting in the growling shadows.
Forager chef
Loving these foraged ingredient recipes, like puffball mushroom croquettes.
Mountain lion growl
Listen at 0:11 to hear what the woods sounded like that day.
“…forest creature allowed to continue doing their* thing”
*I’m using “their” instead of “its” here for two reasons.
I don’t know the gender of the animal. It’s good to get in the habit of refering to living beings with unknown genders as “they” instead of “it.”
A friend once used “they” to refer to a flower and it reminded me to question the flattened view of the natural world as inanimate. Plants climb towards the light due to sensory inputs and communicate with other plants through their roots. Could there be awareness within a flower? Is detection of light a form of awareness, even if done hormonally rather than ocularly? How much of human awareness is, in fact, a process of hormonal and chemical exchange? Is there a deeper awareness not dependent on these functions, and if so, are there any bounds to that awareness?
Trees who are also Buddhist monks
In Thailand, monks have ordained trees to stop deforestation. This is sweet to me in so many ways.
Community ❤️
Pick your favorite prompt to discuss in the comments.
Do plants have awareness? What counts as awareness?
Have you ever had an encounter with an apex predator in the wild?
What’s your spookiest forest story? Most enchanted forest experience?
Your spooky friend,
Olivia
Plants absolutely have awareness and consciousness! I have recently added to my plant family. I have a Bird of Paradise that recently told me their name is Juniper, interestingly, and my Croton that I have had for a while reveled themselves to be Grace, which almost made me cry because grace is exactly perfect for me right now in my life. What a sweet gesture that Grace bestowed upon me! The apps say that Birds of Paradise do not thrive in our climate very easily, but I know that Juniper will do well because they and I will work together to be sure they are happy and well fed. I also have an orchid which just finished their second growth, and a spider plant, pothos, succulent, and rubber plant, none of whom have yet revealed their names to me. Can't wait! I also have discovered the quiet wisdom and abundance of trees and regularly listen to them now.