by William “Josey” Visnovske

I woke up this morning in our one room cabin that has no electricity or running water. Lying next to me is my bride of 25 years. Above us in the loft is our 15-year-old who seems to grow an inch every day. Across the cabin our 13-year-old is curled up in a ball on our sofa. He seems to not be growing, and I’m good with that. On the floor in her crate is our newest family member. She seems to grow 5 inches a day but is still very much a puppy.

I let the puppy out and we walk out to the campfire, which is now nothing more than a pile of burning coals. I can hear the water running through the pond spillway, which tells me the beaver did not dam it up last night after we went to bed. It is several hours before daylight, but the full moon guides my eyes as I look across the pond.

New Year’s Eve 2020 is before us. As the same for most families this year, it has been a struggle. Alan Jackson sang a song once “Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning”. The song was about the destruction of America on September 11, 2001. I wonder if someone will sing a song about the year that changed America. The year when wearing a mask was considered a good thing, yet in the days of my childhood hero, the Lone Ranger, wearing a mask was not.

Our oldest wants to sleep in today, so the youngest and I head into the woods for a morning hunt. We have many hunting stands to choose from. He tells me he wants to hunt from the Hog Stand. My choice was easy. The swamp. I watch him let the moon guide his path to the Hog Stand. It does not seem possible that he is our youngest son.

I can tell you the swamp calls me. It sure sounds crazy, but the swamp knows what I need. It knows that I need that tap-root connection to the earth. A place where I can sort through a year like 2020. To me, the swamp explains our ability as a society to adapt and overcome the changes we face.

Two years ago, Hurricane Michael ripped through this swamp. All around me are trees that stood for ages, but the strong winds drove these mighty trees to the ground. I cried after the storm because the natural beauty of this place had changed. I was convinced it would never be the same. Last year I hunted very little in the swamp. To be honest, I basically avoided it.

Several months ago, I came to the swamp to clear my head, and saw new deer trails around the piles of downed trees. The trees that once provided the deer with an acorn to eat. The deer had adapted and overcome a change to their world. I realized then if they could accept their world being changed, then I, a simple visitor, could too.

As I climbed the 20-foot metal poles strapped to this White Oak tree this morning, I knew I made the right choice. The small creek in front of me is flowing good today, but only because our spring-fed pond feeds it. When the beaver continually dams up the pond spillway, it stops the water to this creek. The wildlife must alter their travel patterns to get water.

It is a heavy day for me in this tree. I’m very thankful for all I have, but it’s hard when others reach out to you and you do not have the answers. It’s hard for me to not see their face and feel their pain. It is hard for me to feel connected to them, just like feeling that tap-root connection to the earth.

A lady texted me yesterday, questioning why she sets such high goals and expectations for herself and the events she is involved in. I am no doctor and honestly do not want to be. My response was, “It’s probably some childhood crap that you could go spend a pile of money to figure out. Or you could be you. Love your boys, brush your horse, love on your dog, and occasionally say what the hell – it will all work out. “

I realize that’s not a very professional answer, but I ‘m just a simple guy sitting in a tree, typing on his iPhone. I, like the lady that texted me, have plenty of things I’d love to know the answers to. But I adapt and overcome most of the downed trees in my life. There are many things that need to be figured out so we can function, but some things are just like a downed tree. We simply have to overcome by adapting to a new trail. In our lives, there will always be a beaver cutting off our water. So, we must find a new water source.

The year 2020, for most of us, will be nice to see in our rear-view mirror. As a society we need to remember how we adapted and overcame a monster we could not see. I hated this year for our boys but embraced their tenacity to find another trail. I had a perfect retirement plan that became a downed tree. So, I found another trail. Now it appears that for me to help folks, I need to be a blogger. Fairly sure that is not like being a logger.

When we have internal conflict from our own lack of water or fallen trees, and the conflict does not allow us to function, then get it fixed. But if we are still functioning then maybe just find a different trail.

I have not seen a deer all day. I was blessed with a red tail hawk a bit ago, and I m sure it is my old friend Lee. He was a pilot that is now free to fly anywhere he wants. The swamp has changed, I have changed, our boys are growing, and our society will never be the same after 2020. But we clearly adapted and overcame, and in some cases, we just found a different trail.