The Hollow Tree At Dead Mule Swamp - Plot & Excerpts
However, a quick adjustment to the rocker bar revealed the shape of a lovely black-and-white warbler, closer to me than was expected. I watched, fascinated, as it walked first up, and then headfirst down, the trunk of a large tree, searching the crevices of the bark for insects. Without ever spotting me, the bird fluttered off. I was seated, somewhat uncomfortably, on a stump surrounded by poles stacked like a three-sided log cabin. It was a broken-down deer blind, abandoned by some hunter. I had come to Dead Mule Swamp about two months ago, but had only discovered the old blind two days ago. It amazed me that I, Anastasia Joy Raven, had changed in six months from a suburban housewife to a new divorcee who owned a fixer-upper house at the end of a dirt road in the Northwoods. My former husband, Roger, had exchanged me for a partner named Brian, but I had left with a large settlement, paid in monthly sums, which should last the rest of my life, if I were careful. Our only son, Chad, was studying Wildlife Ecology at Michigan Tech.
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