Note: I'm running short on writing time as part two of the semester ramps up again, but I'm still determined to maintain my goal of writing stuff I wanna write for at least an hour each day. 

For the first half of this semester (spring 2023), I’ve been so preoccupied with school and other important matters, that I haven’t gone further west than my house.I haven’t ventured into nature even slightly. On days that I had time and energy to sneak away into the woods, I didn’t go. Why? Well… I simply didn’t feel like it. I'd convinced myself that I was better off playing video games or napping than being in the wilderness. 

For the record, it was never a good decision to forgo running around in the wilderness to play World of Warcraft. Well... I did it anyway because... reasons. 

As the semester wore on, my depression became more and more apparent. I became increasingly jumpy, irritable, cynical, and just downright grumpy. My anxiety seeped into my writing and my school work. I had everything to complain about, but nothing to be grateful for. Obviously, that wasn’t good. 

By week five of the semester, my physical health began to take a turn for the worse, too. I didn’t tell anyone, because I have a bad habit of ignoring problems until they get too big to ignore. But, my appetite wasn’t there, I was losing weight, my sinuses were getting a little stuffy, and my digestive tract just didn’t want to work no matter what I ate. I was also getting really tired, to the point I’d come home from class, sit down on my bed, and wake up five hours later in complete darkness still wearing my coat and boots. 

Still, I figured I could survive until Spring Break, then use that time to relax and recover. But, the last two weeks before Spring Break were grueling, to say the least. 

I kicked off Spring Break by visiting my favorite public lands around the South Platte River with my dad. Using my Rebel T7 camera for the first time since before the semester kicked off, I snapped some epic photos around the river. During that frosty morning alongside the river, my love for nature and the outdoors was reignited. I no longer “didn’t feel like” venturing back into nature to recenter myself and reconnect with God. 

After just a short little morning visit to the river, it was like I was back to my old self. Well... not entirely. But, it was a start. 

Later that afternoon, I headed into Ken Caryl Valley and was immediately greeted by a large herd of Muleys, using the crosswalk to head west into some nearby open space. I found a nearby sidestreet to park, grabbed my gear, and approached the Mule Deer from the road. They didn’t really care that I was there. All the deer were busy grazing on new grass springing up from beneath the remains of last year’s foliage. 

It was a perfectly sunny day. Calm and quiet. Not a cloud in the sky. Not too warm and not too cold. Many birds were returning to Colorado from their winter ranges, including dozens of robins and red-headed finches, who were busy picking some remaining acorns off the mostly bare branches of Gambel oaks, or digging around for worms in the soft red soil along the trail. I even spotted a magpie carefully sneaking up to a buck who was resting in the shade of a Ponderosa, in an attempt to steal some of his shed fur to insulate a nearby nest. 

Overall, it was refreshingly peaceful. And I spent the next twenty minutes or so getting picture after picture of the Mule Deer and springtime birds. 

Of course, someone had to ruin the peace of it all, though it wasn’t a person that time. Instead, another old buck trailing behind a few does crossed the road with his ears pinned and head low. I paid close attention to him, because I didn’t really know what his problem was at first, and he was also coming towards me. 

“Easy, buddy…” I called out to him. 

However, the buck wasn’t upset at me. He was upset at the other buck laying in the shade of the Ponderosa on the hill, who pinned his ears in response to the approaching buck. The approaching buck crossed the trail less than ten yards away from me, then raised his head and snorted at the buck laying under the Ponderosa. The Ponderosa buck then stood up and stamped a warning hoof into the soil, clearly trying to scare the offending buck away. 

By that time of year, both bucks had shed their antlers and were no longer in the rut. However, that didn’t mean the bucks were entirely docile. Now, instead of fighting over harems using their antlers, those two bucks seemed to be getting ready to fight using their hooves over a shaded spot. But, the buck who was laying under the Ponderosa was quite a bit smaller than the approaching buck (who was now standing nose-to-nose with him), and he knew it. With his ears still pinned, the smaller buck backed away, and slowly plodded down the hill back towards me, while the larger buck bedded down in the shade. 

All while this was going on, all of the does stood around and stared, wide-eyed, ears high, at the little spat between the two bucks. But, once the littler buck went on his way, all of the does went back to grazing, along with the smaller buck with his ears still pinned. 

As though nothing happened, peace returned.