This red and brown little creature had no name to go by for the occasional hiker, for it had no human-discernible name that mere people like us could understand, or which could be put down to words like these;
Nor had anyone outside the creature's immediate family identified this particular animal so well that it could have been given any particular name other than its own, which remained a secret to us. For now, it was simply best known as Sciurus vulgaris - a squirrel. And this one was four years old, a senior by now with this many years.
But as we were walking in the woods...
This was a lovely forest with only so few visitors, even if it was late August, a great time for being outdoors in general on this side of the world, and it was a beautiful day for a hike.
On the lowest branch of a thick old pine tree sat a small brown rodent of some kind, observing the very few people on the trail.
In fact, there were only two humans down there that day.
This was Ulla. They were very pale and thin, androgynous by all their exterior features. They'd decided to cover most of their skin despite the heat of the day, wearing long jeans and a flannel shirt hanging open over a sleeveless shirt; and fingerless gloves held a small digital camera.
But back on the trail...
Tove, the other hiker, wore only cargo shorts and a short-sleeved blouse. She seemed older of the two, but what was something more of note was the gnarly walking stick she walked with.
Her left leg limped a little, and her stride was far shorter than that of her friend's.
But back on the trail...
Two middle aged regular variety humans, or homo sapiens, were hiking in the woods.
The first one flitting quickly along the path, digital camera in hand, was difficult to describe immediately, except as an androgynous person.
The second one, moving slower with a stick, but overtaking her friend quickly, was a woman in her middle years.
- - -
The pale hiker ignored their friend, following a passing butterfly towards a field of fireweed just slightly off the main road,
There were so many butterflies in the fireweed, and the pale hiker was taking photographs, absorbed entirely by the scene of sweet meadow flowers and butterflies, and look, oh, even bumblebees!,
while their friend was waiting at the nearby crossroads with an open map, glancing back down at them slightly impatiently.
The younger hiker consciously decided to take more time - someone else's hurry shouldn't stop their slow enjoyment of the day -
... or were they quickly done appreciating the meadow instead?
The younger hiker found stones and rocks covered with thick moss near the milkweed next, and since they had all day, it seemed like the time to take more photographs.
Their friend could be very impatient, but she could also try and learn how to chill, the two of them shouldn't hike at her chosen speed all day.
The younger hiker continued in peace, taking their time, before eventually following their friend up the hill.
Despite so many things to photograph and enjoy, the fireweed was enough for now, and besides, their friend's presence felt heavy, even from a distance, demanding the younger hiker's attention.
They hurried up the hill towards their friend, skipping with delight caused by all this nature surrounding them.
The older hiker checked the map and compared it to the crossroads signs. There was an unexpected path heading north east, the sign calling it Bird Valley, which wasn't marked on the map. The place sounded intriguing though, perhaps it was time to change plans?
(But first their little party would have to come together again to make this decision. However, one half of them was getting distracted by a field of fireweed downhill.)
Was she in the grips of anxious concern?
... or was it was still calm and early in the day, with plenty of daylight left?
So far her friend had been very slow with this hike, as if every tree needs to be photographed.
Unpleasant anxiety bubbled quietly in the pit of the older hiker's stomach. The sun seemed to run twice its normal pace now, and before they both knew it, they'd be forced to turn back to get to the car before darkness fell.
A bird sang nearby, but she took little notice of it.
But once her friend caught up they could plan the day ahead of them.
She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. There was no point in getting agitated about this. They could just adjust the length of the hike depending on how far ahead they got by early afternoon. Eventually they'd just have to turn around and return back to the beginning of the trail, and everything would be fine.
A bird sang in a tree nearby, a willow warbler's wistful melody.
She waited patiently, letting her eyes wander around the map in her hands, while absorbing the music of the forest surrounding her while her friend was soon done with the photography before the two of them had a chance to talk again.
The older hiker was taking in the sounds of the forest for the few moments it took for the younger hiker to depart the fireweed meadow and come up the hill to the crossroads.
"Look at this, a new path! It sounds lovely, doesn't it?" She pointed at the sign to their pale young friend.
"Birds! I love birds! Let's take it!"
And on they went, following the narrow path deeper into the forest.
The narrow path through the woods was dark due to the tall trees surrounding them - the evergreen pines and spruces.
Sunlight filtered through the canopy of the needled trees in a beautifully eerie way. The air felt somewhat moist in this area, like there was perhaps a pond or a marsh nearby.
The older woman's slower walking speed with the walking stick and a slightly stiff left foot adjusted much better now with the pace of their friend, who was much quicker on their feet: they would get ahead for a few moments, then stop to take photos and fall behind, and then they'd catch up again quickly.
It was an odd but good balance for the purposes of their hike.
After well over an hour on the trail, the two hikers came to another crossroads:
---
One path lead up a steep rocky cliff, with a warning sign:
Bird Valley main route 2 KM
challenging climb ahead
while the other path headed around the rocky cliff and towards the marshes that smelled of sweet and fragnant marsh labrador flowers, and a sign:
Bird Valley alternate route 2,5 KM
parts of the path may be submerged
---
"This is probably why they've never cleared a path to Bird Valley before," the older hiker said.
They needed to discuss where they were headed.
The hikers clearly had a choice of one or the other ahead of them: the difficult climb, or the submerged path through the marshlands.
"The climb up the cliff is clearly better, there are mosquitoes in the marshes, and I don't want to get wet," the younger hiker said.
"But it's a sunny day in August, our clothes would dry up quickly," the older hiker said.
"Besides, the lower road is better," she continued, "I can't climb up the cliffside."
"Of course you could, I could help you with the difficult parts," the younger hiker replied.
---
The younger hiker ruminated on their thoughts quietly for a moment.
And so of course did their friend, mulling over the possibilities at hand.
It seemed likely that one would go one way, and one the other.
The younger hiker wasn't certain what to do or say.
Should they have worried about their friend, and voice concerns about parting ways? It wasn't smart to go alone into unknown woods, even with marked trails.
Or was it just fine to separate and go about their own ways to Bird Valley?
In any case they themselves would not be taking the marshbound trail under any circumstances, these would be infested with mosquitoes, which was why the younger hiker had covered themselves up so well for this hike in the first place.
The younger hiker was uneasy about coming to an agreement of both paths getting explored, but their friend would not budge from the marshland trail, nor would they themselves choose anything but the cliffside path, and neither wanted to return to the main trail. This was not the safest option.
But still, they would be separated for now.
The younger hiker shrugged off apprehensions of their separation, even though it took some mental effort. This was more than adequate as a compromise. They were both headed towards marked trails and destined for the same Bird Valley eventually.
It would be fine.
The older hiker felt frustrated over the fact that her friend presumed they could both just climb up the cliff with no problems, even if they hadn't been here before and had no idea how easy or difficult it would be to come back down with a walking stick and a stiff leg.
In the light of that, she could have hung on to the vexation she felt about the inflexibility her friend displayed about choosing the cliffs and refusal to try the marshes.
Or she could just suggest they part their ways without further unnecessary internal needling, and just meet at Bird Valley.
It was difficult not to take it personally when you have little tiffs with friends, and this was no exception.
The older hiker held close her sense of irritation over even being suggested that she could take on the challenging cliffside when she clearly didn't want to.
They'd have to part their ways. Maybe it'd be good too, she needed a moment for herself alone now.
It felt better to let go of her irritation, the older hiker thought, as she calmed herself down. They were only caught in an unexpected situation, that was all.
Each trail would take less than half an hour to finish, and they'd be marked.
It would be fine.
"See you there," one said to the other.
"See you there," the other replied.
---
And so they parted:
The younger hiker taking the cliffside path.
The older hiker would go through the marshes.
The path to the Valley of Birds across the cliffs started in a narrow space between two thick spruce trees, the dirt path ending as a steep climb towards the top of the cliff.
It was a steep climb, requiring any climber patience and observation skills in order to find the surest footing to get up, for over half of the cliff was smooth rock.
The younger hiker started the climb without worry, experience from earlier hikes in terrain like this made them feel confident with what to expect from this trail.
The path was marked with sparsely located colourful markers attached to the pine trees growing here and there in the sparse soil that had accumulated in the small dents and hollows on the surface of the enormous rock. It was intriguing how many of these tall trees still stood there, with the recent storms of incresing potency that had felled forest in many local areas.
It was slow work but at last they made it to the top of the cliff.
The view from the top of the cliff was breathtaking! It was such a shame their friend hadn't made it.
The climb had been a bit rough even on their thighs, so the younger hiker set their backpack down and drank a little bit of water while waiting for their heartbeat to calm down.
And actually it was a great opportunity to take a few photographs as well!
They wondered then how sad and miserable it must have been right now down in the marsh below for their friend who was probably half wet by now and getting eaten by mosquitoes.
Down in the dreary wetness.
Down in the marsh, wide wooden duckboards took the older hiker deeper into the heart of the marshy area in the woods. There were fewer and fewer towering trees around her until almost all there was around her were enormous beds of green moss in bright and duller tones, all soaked from the water they grew in. There were green reeds, bushes of maturing cattails, and the scent of marsh labrador in the air.
There was a strange beauty to the hidden marsh. It was surrounded by the tall cliff on one long side, and in the distance behind and further away by the woods comprised mostly of dark evergreen spruce trees, with some smatterings of alder, aspen and birch, all which she could recognise by their colours and silhouettes.
She had to take her shoes off and carry them tied to her backpack. The duckboards didn't cover the entire trail, and on occasion she had to step onto some wet moss to reach the next part of the path, but she wasn't too fussed about getting her feet wet - the soft, moist mosses actually felt invigorating against her bare skin.
The duckboards went on, circling around the deepest part of the marsh.
To the older hiker's surprise, there were hardly any mosquitoes around. She swatted one off her arm, waiting for more to arrive, but no, that was the only one to arrive.
Most of the work in getting around had to do with making sure her walking stick stayed on the duckboards, and not miss the edge and sink into the marsh, which happened a few times.
Overall it was very calm and peaceful here. It felt a shame she had to get to the other side, and couldn't spend an hour there at the boards.
But eventually the marsh came to its end, and she arrived at Bird Valley.
The Bird Valley seemed to be named for being nestled at the crook of the enormous cliff that nestled the place, protecting it.
There was a small lake at the end of the marsh, and a little hand-operated ferry mounted on enormously long rope wires. The notice next to ti informed that it would take visitors across the water to the main route. Just the place where they would want to go next, it would get them back to the car park and bus routes quickly.
There was a bench set up in the valley. After sitting there for a moment, the older hiker felt truly happy to see her friend approach her, coming down the steep cliff.
"Need a hand?" she called out.
"It's ok, I'm fine! Whew!" the younger hiker ended the last minimal descent with a small hop, landing on both her feet. "Did you get wet? Were the mosquitoes bad?"
"I had to get my feet a little wet, but it was fun. And not much of a bug situation, maybe it's too late in the summer now for them," the older hiker said thoughtfully and
"Oh good, then it wasn't too hard for you." The younger hiker sat down on the bench as well and started to unpack snacks.
They chatted for a while, exchanging their impressions of the views of nature, and their plans for trying the small ferry.
Both silenced immediately as they saw it.
A bird, a little sand-coloured ruff, the colour of its feathers peppered with specks of charcoal black.
It glared at the hikers and then ran back towards the marsh where it had come from.
Then another bird began to sang in the canopy of the pine trees, but whatever kind of song it was that a little bird would come up with at the end of summer, the hikers couldn't guess. Perhaps it was heralding the beginning of the first days of autumn.
They had been in the woods for three hours, and it was another hour back to the parking lot at least, so the hikers started packing up and leaving. And there was still plenty of daylight left of course, this far north of the hemisphere. It wouldn't get truly dark before ten o'clock.
Operating the hand-crank ferry was an awful lot of fun.
And soon they were back on the main trail, on their way home.
There was still a large-eyed brown rodent in the woods observing anyone who went past it by the main trail. It noticed the hikers from earlier heading away from the woods, they seemed to be in high spirits as they laughed and exchanged comments on the day's adventures.
After they were gone there were no humans left in the park. The squirrel assumed their nests were elsewhere, far from there. Probably not in trees like the one it had.
A willow warbler sang in its tree further downhill, its last song of the day.