My son and his new family are staying with us for a month or two so they can save towards a down payment on a house in town. I know, I know, these sorts of arrangements can strain relationships, especially when you consider my daughter-in-law has never lived in a rural area before. The learning curve is pretty steep for her, and although she seems overwhelmed, she’s catching on.

I was wondering if I should warn her about the gravel road through the swamp that leads into town. It’s only a mile from our place to town, but during certain times of year, it can be one wild mile. The road runs right through the swamp. There’s no shoulder, just swamp to either side. It’s hard walking, especially in the morning when the milk haulers and loggers are making their rounds. Even when the big rigs slow to a crawl, they kick up copious amounts of gravel dust, leaving pedestrians covered in road residue. Then there’s the school bus. For some reason, the driver doesn’t even attempt to slow down. I guess he’s in a hurry to unload all those kids that are hanging out of the windows as he barrels on by. Even worse than the school bus, the teenagers who drive to school, at the last second, and are practically airborne as they try to beat the bell.

Now, if the human traffic isn’t enough to contend with, there’s the animal traffic to make things really interesting. There’s one little land bridge that deer, bear, fox, wolves, coyotes, and martins use to cross the road. It rises ever so slightly out of the swamp on the east side of the road, and quickly disappears into the tag elders on the other side. Everyone agrees that the wildlife has the right of way. It’s been that way as long as anyone can remember. That’s why I forgot to warn Lacy. I did point out the human traffic pattern to her, but left out about the animal traffic. She found that part out for herself.

She was pushing my ten-month-old grandson down the gravel road in a stroller, not an easy task on lose rock that passes for road around here. When she got to the rickety old sign that proclaims in washed out letters “Subject to Flood,” she saw that someone else was also out for a walk–a black bear. She had never seen a live bear outside of a zoo. At first she was intrigued; then she was terrified, pushing the stroller at breakneck speed, abandoning it at the edge of the driveway as she grabbed baby and ran for the house.

It took a minute to calm her down. We all reassured her that the bear probably wouldn’t bother with her. And even though this time of year they’re moving around pretty good,  the bear traffic will slow down shortly, and stop altogether through the winter months. She looked a little calmer, but not convinced.

I suppose someone ought to mention about the coyotes that will move into the area soon. They sit on the ridge to the north of the swamp and howl when the 9:00 pm whistle blows in town. I have a feeling she isn’t going to find the eerie yelping as soothing as we do.