All around me woodland creatures playfully rustled within the colorful fall foliage. My peripheral vision caught quick glimpse of a plume of leaves shooting up from the ground, before gracefully fluttering back down. Something was zigzagging beneath the deep layer of fallen leaves, discreetly zipping back and forth from tree to tree, yet its presence was invisible, like some type of subterranean worm slithering just below the surface, as the ground above ruptured with berms. However, the origin of the erratic movements soon became identifiable by a grey puffy tale which stuck out from crunchy leaves like a feather duster. Squirrels! I soon began to notice their cute little tails circling all around me as their agile bodies sped like silver bullets, hidden just beneath the Autumn detritus.

As I attempted to steer my attention toward photographing the expansive junkyard of discarded vehicles which lay ahead of me, I kept uncovering large stashes of acorns, piled up carefully within hidden crevices of the numerous abandoned automobiles. A rusted out wheel-well on an upside-down car, full to the brim with acorns, discarded rubber tires, overflowing, the metal speedometer cutout within a corroded dashboard, jammed packed. Hundreds of acorns, all precariously hoarded, ready to be devoured during a massive feast of the squirrels, before the turning of the seasons. With such a discovery, suspicions of my unwelcomed presence soon became backed by reality, as the pleasant rustling of leaves morphed into a cacophony of high pitched screaming emanating from within the branches of the surrounding trees.

Initially the screaming was limited to just two or three squirrels going at it in a bit of a back and forth, overly dramatic yelling match. But it wasn't long before dozens of these grey tree rats were all squealing mercilessly at the top of their tiny lungs, expressing their territorially fueled disdain toward my mere existence. It was like an orchestra of squirrels were being lead into an ever increasing crescendo by a crazed furry tailed conductor. For during this moment of rodent induced temper tantrum, no greater threat had ever been bestowed upon such an impressive cache of oak tree nuts. If only I could communicate that I had no interest with their acorn sow, perhaps the wailing and crying could have been amicably brought to an end. Yet the riot of raging rodents continued, their high pitched howls so ear piercing that the sound contorted into what mimicked a pulsating fire alarm, completely deafening, unfortunately there was no smoke to clear, only me, and I wasn't going anywhere.

However, in an unexpected moments notice, the unrelenting lamenting completely ceased. It was as if the demented orchestral conductor had immediately brought the screaming squirrel symphony to an unforeseen fermata. Yet the entire forest seemed mute as well. No buzzing of the insects, chirping of crickets, nor pleasant bird song being carried about the cool Autumn breeze. If it weren't for a low thump followed by the crunching and snapping of twigs ensuing from the distance, I would have thought perhaps I'd gone deaf. This crunching noise continued, slow yet stately, clearly forming a pattern that grew louder and closer. Instinctually, I began to feel a sense of uneasiness. My nerves grew tense and my eyes dilated, tunnel vision homing directly in on the source of the ever nearing crunching sound.

As soon as my eyes made contact I froze, a wave of panic then shot through my spine, birthing goose bumps across my skin. Slowly, I backed up toward the nearest abandoned vehicle, a beat metal pick-up truck, balancing precariously across a field of rocks. I noticed the entire frame was riddled with bullet holes and I too at this moment wished I had a gun. My chest was pumping so feverishly I could see the apples of my cheeks palpitating in sync with each beat of my racing heart. I knelt down, crouching to my knees and positioned my body behind the metal door of the truck. Slowly, I poked my head out through the windowless frame and again my eyes made clear contact. It was within this moment of paralyzing fear that I had realized I made all the wrong moves. Here I was hunkered down behind an abandoned truck, looking both as helpless and appetizing as possible. I should have been louder, I should have screamed like the squirrels. But it was too late now, I feared any unexpected movement would only spook and enrage the four hundred pound beast.

So I did the worst thing I could do, I stayed still and made myself small, as I curled up behind the door for protection. I held my breath and clenched my muscles as if I were hiding out from the cops. But even the laziest of cops don't quite weigh four hundred pounds and I could easily outrun most. As the seconds sped by, the crunching of the twigs grew louder and closer. I could even begin to feel the ground quiver with each step the mammoth animal took closer to me. I did not dare peer back through the window frame, for I swear if I did our noses would have touched in the most unromantic of ways. Within my hand I clutched a large jagged rock with such grip that my skin was beginning to bleed. At this point the heavy footed pacing stopped and I could hear the wild beast breathing in and out through its giant snout, its forceful, heavy breaths blowing leaves on the ground into the air. I had every belief the beast smelt me, it knew I was here, I just hoped it could not smell fear.

Only a thin metal Ford door obscured me from the beast's curious view. The animal's thick black fur was rubbing up against the metal door. Like abrasive sandpaper grinding against the grain, I could literally hear the animal's stocky pelt rub up against the smooth metal, as the beast paced back and forth. Between the door jam on the vehicle, a small gap was present and all I could see were coarse black hairs poking in through the narrow fissure. In this final moment of horror, with the rock still tightly in grip, I cocked my arm back before letting it rip, smashing the stone as hard as I could over and over again into the metal frame of the vehicle.

Between the gap in the door I saw the black clumps of fur immediately pull away, followed by what sounded like a cannon ball being shot through the forest, taking everything out along its path, charging full speed ahead in complete dismay. After a few seconds, I peered up though the window one last time and was able to catch the ass end of the massive black bear as it disappeared into the woods at missile speed, plowing though bushes and crushing branches all along the way, never once stopping to look back. In tune with the beast's departure, the squirrels soon began to clamor again. But this time I let the rat bastards win and beat feet the hell out of the woods.