"Happy as a wild green drake in a cattail marsh!"

I felt like a lucky Christmas-morning kid a few days ago when I not only received my new parka in the mail but then several days of good, cold fall rain hit -- rain, rain, rain. . . and me and my new parka walking everywhere, day and night, even shaking trees so more water would fall on me. I didn't want to come inside. "Like off a duck's back," as they say . . . happy as a wild green drake in a cattail marsh!

Early this morning, after I finished the shift and daily reports and mopping the floor (about 4:30 am) a strong wind hit. A kaleidoscope of  red, yellow and brown leaves were riding with the breeze. Rain was coming down hard at a sharp slant. I watched the yellow plastic "Caution: Wet Floor" sign tumble across the parking lot towards the marsh. I excitedly thought: "This is a job for parka!"

So I bundled up, pulled up my hood and ventured out to retrieve the sign. When I got near the marsh, I saw a quick flash of white in the cattails revealed by dim lights from the gas pumps. Deer, I assumed, but decided to investigate. (I'm always curious to learn where various wild animals choose to wait out storms -- lessons that have helped me more than once on my wilderness adventures.) I pushed through the willows and half crawled and half walked my way to a thick, bushy tree. By now I had entered into darkness and couldn't tell what species until I started slipping, grabbed a branch to keep from falling and felt the sharp pain of something stabbing deep into the palm of my right hand. Hawthorn! Underneath the hawthorn the ground felt dry and warm. I sensed the scent of whitetail.

I looked back at the store and thought I saw headlights through the trees, someone pulling into the parking lot. Crap. I was supposed to be working. I tried to hurry back but stepped off solid land and fell knee deep into water and mud surrounded by cattails. It took a while to get myself unstuck and crawl out.

By the time I got back to the store a guy who is a regular customer was patiently waiting at the counter wanting to pay for a muffin and energy drink.

"I was getting worried," he said. "Where were you?"
"Uh . . . cleaning the parking lot," I replied.
"In this weather?" he asked.

He looked at my muddy shoes and pants, then at my hand.

"Is that blood on your hand?" he asked. "What happened to you? Are you okay?" 
"I fell in the marsh," I said.
"What the hell were you doing in the marsh?" 
"Checking out a whitetail bed," I replied.
"A what?"
"Where a deer was resting . . . I was kind of testing out my new parka and . . . never mind; it's complicated."  

After he left, I quickly stripped down in the back room, rinse the mud off my shoes and pants in the big sinks, washed my hand, mopped up the mess I tracked in and started the coffee just in time for the morning rush.

At first light, after the wind and rain let up, I found the yellow caution sign close to where i fell in. I also found a few deer hairs under the hawthorn.

As for the parka: My work shirt remained dry as a whitetail bed.