The sky was grey and overcast. Thick tendrils of fog slithered out of the snowy forest to hover over the road. The previous days rain had collected in the road’s hollows, forcing the car to swerve around them, until the puddles became a river. The car inched through this, water swooshing under the tires as the windshield wipers whipped away the spray. The road, narrow and winding, seemed to go forever through the still forest. Finally, a red stop sign emerged through the mist, and the car turned right, then right again, before pulling into the parking lot for Kettle Lake in Awenda Park.
The sound of our footsteps were deadened by the decaying leaves littering the trail in drab hues of brown and orange. The air smelt moist and loamy, with a slight dank smell wafting in from the water’s edges. The forest of oak and maple was quiet, with not even a whisper of wind through the upper branches. Fallen trees were draped in green moss and last year’s withered fungi. Off in the distance a pileated woodpecker let out a shrill series of cries that echoed hauntingly among the forest. Between the tree trunks, the lake’s calm waters mirrored back the surrounding trees and sky. A pair of merganser ducks swam by, leaving a shallow wake across the surface. Brown cattails lay bent and broken by the shore and a chorus of spring peepers rang out as the first amphibians of the spring made their presence known.
Soon the hard wood forest gave way to an area of dark cedars and pines. Pockets of snow lay under the protective boughs, and more thick fog hovered over them, undulating like a living thing. The trail ahead was thickly littered with bright green shoots from the topmost branches of the spruce and pine, neatly clipped by little teeth. What creature could have done this? We continued, out of the forest and onto the wooden plank bridge crossing the shallow waters between the lake and a marsh. Thick reeds had been flattened into a large trench by some unknown creature, using them to move between the waterways. Across the lake, the land rose up to an area of thick trees and dense undergrowth.
We followed the trail upwards towards this ridge, which was still deep in some areas with snow, necessitating that we step off of the trail to keep our feet dry. Twice we passed the scat of a large carnivore, matted with the fur of some unfortunate creature. As the snow levels in the forest increased, so too did those moving tendrils of fog. The distance was a soft blur of shapes and shadows, twisting and turning as the white fog roiled through the trees. My son paused to bend down to examine a fungus on an old log, when a sound rang out from the bridge we had been at only minutes before. A long single note, echoing across the lake that sent the waterfowl exploding from the dark waters. Goosebumps rose on our flesh as the birds screeched in terror. My son slowly turned to me, eyes wide and mouth open in shock, where my expression was just as startled as his. Without a word we moved quickly back onto the trail, the trees blocking the view of the lake and what ever made that terrifying sound. The fog thickened around us, blocking our view of behind us as well. Another loud cry rang out, closer than before. Our steps were almost fast enough to be running, our feet slipping on the snow patches as we struggled to stay upright. Finally, our pace slowed as we found ourselves on the opposite side of the lake, laughing at our nervousness. The trees thinned and the shore where we had heard the noise was visible, but thick reeds and dark spaces under the trees hid any possibility of seeing what might be there still. A crack, like a broken branch, sounded out from that space, but with no further noise we continued to our car, frequently checking that far shore.
The animal’s eyes watched them from under the shadows, watched them laugh at their foolishness. It stepped forward, snapping a twig. It froze and watched the woman raise her head and look across the water, searching the darkness under the trees for movement. It watched her hesitate, then continue with her son along the trail, looking back over her should at its hiding spot. It watched them get in their care and drive away through the thick mist, before it left its hiding spot.
OK, spoiler. This did happen, so of course I had to find out some answers to the unusual events on this trek. I had no idea what kind of creature would neatly snip all those buds off the tops of trees. Turns out that would be those pesky red squirrels who like the young buds in early spring. As to that noise, well, that I am not so sure about. I have the calls and howls of bear, elk, deer, coyotes and wolves, but I have never heard a sound like this. I asked a hunting co-worker, who played a number of vocalizations for me to see if I could identify it. The closest sound was a female moose calling for her calf. Though it was not perfect, so there could still be some mystery animal out at Kettle Lake!