Madeline Peterson
Madeline Peterson was born and raised in Southwest Michigan where she spent the first part of her life navigating chronic pain, depression, substance abuse, and more. In search of change and healing, both mentally and physically, she spends intentional time in nature, including along rivers and streams. Moving to North Carolina in 2021 offered Madeline the opportunity to have a fresh start, and be reminded of the healing that nature provides.
Falls of Neuse
I found myself hiking for a short while, mumbling to the birds and pondering the day, when I came upon a small clearing where the conditions were favorable. A handful of large rock formations emerged slightly from the surface of the river and the trees did not lean too far over the river’s edge. I wove through a narrow, thornbush-ridden pathway and out into the open space. It was early spring, and I knew the white bass were biting.
I had barely finished tying a small caddis fly on the line when the beat of Blue Heron wings cut through the quiet morning air. He landed a few yards away on a downed tree that bridged between the embankment near a large rock that had been smoothed over and polished by the cold river rapids. The Heron navigated the rotting branches meticulously until he reached the rock form and came to a calculated stop. Water rushed around the rock and its disposition created a small eddy, a common resting place for trout and bass. The pools made fishing conditions favorable, for The Heron and myself alike. I admired his stature and filmed him briefly as he stood unwavering, peering into the eddy below. Periodically he would flinch, as if the temptation of a catch was too great but the moment was not quite right.
After a short while, I stood to my feet and began casting. The rhythmic sway and flick of my wrist caught the attention of The Heron and he watched as the caddis floated back and forth through the air before settling in an eddy and swirling in its wake, taunting whatever lay beneath. He remained in poised observation and only as I sat for a rest did his focus return to the swirling countercurrent below. I watched him intently, gathering my thoughts. A few months has passed since I had last stepped into the river and, as I crouched upon the rocks, I was reminded of the peace that accompanied me in this place.
The Heron and I took turns in this way for what seemed like a couple of hours but soon the sun grew higher and increasingly more indomitable above us. The Heron, having more success than I, lunged forward and took off into the air. With several flaps of his wings, he disappeared over the treeline and out of sight, leaving the world eerily still and quiet in his absence.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
©2023 Iron Oak Editions LLC
Stay Connected to Our Literary Community. Subscribe to Our Newsletter
Listen:
