Shelter

We like walking around the back paddock and down along the creek. We enjoy the exercise, as does the dog. It gives us the chance to see how the creeks are doing and to look for tadpoles and crabs. We check for erosion along the fire scrape behind our place and take note of any damage to fences from dropped tree limbs. We stop to admire new growth and wildflowers. On occasion my mind gets trapped in busy thoughts and I'm embarrassed to realise that our walk is almost over and I haven't paid attention to nature's daily wonders. That doesn't happen often these days as I remind myself to let go of distracting thoughts.

We got a little shock yesterday. We walked along the track (on our property) approaching the shire's formed road. We found a shovel lying in the middle of the track. Beside the track was... a grave-shaped hole, newly dug, about a metre deep. The dirt had been flung in every direction out of the hole. It hadn't been piled neatly beside it. It was somewhat reassuring to figure that there had been no plan to fill it in again. In the bottom of the hole lay a foam pad, a rumpled sheet and two empty glass bottles. We stood for a while, speechless... and uneasy... unable to make sense of it and finally, continued on our way home.

Grave-shaped shelter. Shovel in middle of track.

When we checked this morning, it didn't look like anyone spent last night in the hole. We phoned our neighbour and discussed the discovery. As best we can assess, someone felt so alone and so fearful in their situation that they dug this grave-shaped shelter and spent at least one night in it. If they had planned to stay long, they would have dug in a more isolated spot, not right beside a regularly used walking track and near the shire's road. 

Sometimes the right thing to do is leave. Sometimes the right answer is silence.