Roosevelt State Park in Morton, Mississippi.

On our way to Jackson, Patrick decided to rent a cabin at Roosevelt State Park so we could catch some fall colors and scents. The girls quickly adopted their new home and created beds for the babies on the back porch while Max caught up on his Native American legends and myths.

Our cabin edged up to the lake/reservoir, so we had the pleasure of feeding various winged creatures in the area.

Max led the munchkins in taking this pleasure very seriously as he rushed back and forth to the cabin in search of pita bread for the ducks and our strange friend. The woods added an extra layer of cold to the fall weather- a reminder of the cooling power of trees.

Micah kept her eye on a duck that resembled a turkey and keeps circling us. She fed him long enough to earn a special piece of karma in the kingdom of duck-like folk.

Before you could say “turkey duck”, he had crawled up onto the bank to discuss local bird migration patterns and the Canada geese that kept inching in on his terrain on the other bank. (I wouldn’t know this if Max had not offered to translate for me.)

After wandering around the park, we came back to the cabin for dinner and then went outside for a night-time stroll.
Geese at a different part of the park.
Everyone was super restless from the car trip, so we extended our current study of Native Americans into the night. First we learned how to sit in the dark and let our eyes get used to the darkness. Then we learned how to walk without making a sound- a skill necessary for Native hunters in search of game in the woods.
Patrick thought stepping on his heels produced the least amount of noise, while Max insisted that treading tiptoe was faster and more effective. Technically, Max was correct, but practically, Patrick was more successful. The award for “Most Native Woods Walk”, however, went to Miss Micah, who managed to walk across acorns without making a sound.
Early next morning, the kids were out by the lake again to feed their breakfast to various winged creatures. I sat with them and watched them marvel over a group of ducks that dropped by to eat bread; they invented their own songs to communicate with the ducks- songs involving quacks and “heeere ducky ducky”.
Patrick pointed out to us that there must be a paper mill in the area because there was a strong smell permeating the air. I joked, “No honey, someone is frying up all their chickens- that’s what it smells like to me.” Little did I know….

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