Beyond the edge of the yard lies a shallow creekbed. In a roughly skewed line it declines for just short of a mile to feed the Eno river. Along this corridor the deer travel and birds bathe. It dried up back in August, cracked dirt and rocky. Even through fall it was dry. I walked down in it, looked for old arrowheads. The corridor shifted and the animals stayed closer to the bigger river. There is a shady bend in the creekbed just before it straitens out near our piece of land. It is a rich tuft of land, green with fern and grass. Water usually pools at the edge, swirls against a big rock and a downed tree. A few blackbirds often gather below the bank, shielded by a thicket, where they chatter and splash in a lively group bath. It has been quiet for awhile.
But yesterday I walked to that finger of land, trees bare and exposed, to check on the water. It has returned, to feed the river, and there is a creek once more. A sparrow took a brief dip and again we live along the corridor.
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