Field Note: Tilghman Island

We made it. Our first week as residents of the Eastern Shore. Our home wasn’t ready yet so we spent a few days in a rental out on Tilghman Island.

The weather was largely uncooperative, but I found that I didn’t mind much.

I didn’t immediately whip out the hand sanitizer or ask for a new table when two fully-grown ducks placed their beaks on my son’s chair at a local eatery.

I didn’t panic when he wanted to walk the flat rocks out on the end of the island. The wind was whipping hard and on another day I might have let the anxiety ingrained in me win out. But I just held his hand. Led him and let him.

We did attempt a nature trail. A waitress had told us it was short and clear, easy for my son to run along. I made it most of the way before I insisted we turn around.

The tall trees and pine needle floors sheltered us from the wind. But as the landscape changed to marshy reeds, I couldn’t help but think about the creatures hidden in the in-betweens of this beautifully soggy wetland.

My past has kept me on suburban streets, observing nature from behind reinforced glass at zoos and nature centers. Things that slither, creep, and watch kept at a distance. Eliciting cortisol spikes even in my safety.

I don’t want to pass this fear on.

I’m still learning how to appreciate all of nature as it’s presented to me. I’ve got a long way to go. But for my son and I, it was an incredibly good start.