Day 3 Was beautiful- sunny, moderate temps, and nothing to do but fish the lake. As I dawdled around the campsite, I noticed a merlin- he was perched right in my campsite! I couldn't help but feel a 'spirit' connection and wonder who was watching over me. The little birds were up in arms, making a racket of alarm 'chip' calls. The merlin didn't seem worried about me, so I figured I'd just sit and watch him as long as he cared to share the campsite with me. He was actually hunting- waiting for a small bird to cross one of the two small bays surrounding my campsite. Eventually the little bird racket hushed, and apparently someone did try to fly across the little inlet, because suddenly the merlin took off in a deadly serious, rapid flight.

I didn't have a darn bit of success fishing, but my fake little fishes got some good flying and swimming lessons. NOTE TO SELF: spring for live leaches next trip.

A pair of canoes with 4 young men landed at the campsite just north of mine. Voices occasionally carried to my camp reminding me that I was not really alone in the wilderness.

Night 3. After a day of sunshine dried things out a bit, I tried to make a small campfire. I'm really bad at campfires, but I got a small one going and actually stayed up a bit after dark. The sky was clear and, oh my, the stars were out. I had forgotten how the night sky is supposed to look. The milky way was pouring out of sagittarius on the southern horizon and spreading out across the entire sky. WOW. A few meteors and satellites caught my eye, including a pair of satellites traveling seemingly close together. There were so many stars I had a hard time picking out constellations.

Then the character of the night emerged. Tonight was to be animal night. As I was stargazing, I heard a howl, then a chorus of howls from north of the lake. A wolf pack! What a wonderful treat, especially since I could tell they were a good distance away. When I could no longer keep my eyes open, I climbed into the hammock. Once I was settled in, it was obvious that it was going to be a noisy night. A snort reached out to my ears, but what kind? It was much higher pitched than the deer snorts I know from home. I expect a bear snort to be at least as low-pitched as a white-tailed deer, but is it? I wracked my brain, but could not come up with an educated guess as to who snorted. I imagined I heard a raccoon. I thought I heard branches pushed aside, footsteps, and then I heard a very large low-pitched c r u n c h, as a large, damp, rotten log gave way under a heavy load. Dang. Not much imagination required to interpret that noise. I told the bear I was here, it was my camp, and nothing was here for it. It was all bluff on my part. I was shaking in my socks. My head-light went on, my heart raced, and I rattled my hammock. It dawned on me that this hour after darkness fell was not my hour of power. It was when I felt most vulnerable- it became known as my “hour of terror”. I decided that there would be no night 4 at this campsite and I would probably clear out of BWCA the very next day.

NOTE TO SELF: Black bears are not out to eat the campers. They are out to eat the camper's food.