Fog, thick and deep in the air. Dew so heavy I can taste it in my mouth; coating the inside of my lungs. I breath in and breath out, listening and watching. Crows caw from every direction. Cattle munch on the wet grass below, a cough here, a sputter there. A weed with yellow flowers gently moves in the light, cool wind atop the oak and hickory tree-covered hill over looking several ponds. Crickets chirp and a fish breaks the surface of one of the ponds seeking a quick meal.
An automated motor on a deer feeder goes off from one direction, then down in the bottom land you can hear others, closely timed. A buck snorts toward something he does not like and a coyote howls. The sun has risen well into the sky but cannot be seen due to the heavy fog which has now lifted a bit.
The cattle meander their way down to a pond for a drink, alongside them Frosty the dog has now moved from his perch behind me. Frogs jump into the water of the pond below as the dog playfully chases them around the edges.
A semi starts up and heads out toward a highway some ten miles away. Before he died, a neighbor once used an old police siren to call his cattle. His house, long gone, has been replaced by a trailer house with a new owner. The new owner must have discovered the old siren in the still standing barn and started using it to call his cattle. Now someone is beating on metal somewhere -- so much for being one with nature.