These Times

A blueberry field at zero full moon thirty

Kirk Ericson | Jul 25, 20240

12:30 a.m., July 21, 2024, Gile Blueberry Farm, Thurston County:

“Shhh,” said our youngest son, Ryan, using his chin to motion over his shoulder. “There’s one right there.”

Ahh. The thing we came to see. An animal emerged from tall brush to our right, maybe 30 yards from where the two of us were sitting in the northwest corner of Ken Gile’s 18-acre blueberry farm.

The animal was under the light of a full moon on a cloudless night, and I tested a cliche. I shined the flashlight on the thing, and it stood there, still, staring into the light.

“Like a deer in the headlights” turns out to be true — if this deer is like all other deer.

I switched off the flashlight and the deer returned from whence it came, and the boy and I returned to our full view of the full moon, still climbing above the southern horizon.

Ryan and I came to be in this spot at that hour because of a conversation I had with farmer Ken a few days before his field opened to pickers last week.

“How’s it looking this year?” I asked Ken.

“Good, except for the deer eating all the berries,” Ken said.

I talked to his nephew David, who owns the blueberry field next to Ken. David confirmed the deer-eating-berries story.

“I’ve heard if you spread deer blood on things it will deter them,” David said. “But I don’t know where to find deer blood.”

“I do,” I said. “Inside a deer.”

I’ve been having negative thoughts lately about deer. I planted vegetables in our yard for the first time in the 34 years we’ve lived there, and within a week, some animal ate the broccoli and lettuce, but left the kale alone, which should tell us something about kale. I was told to blame all deer for the act of one deer, so I did, and I began wondering what deer look like when they’re eating – and when you shine a flashlight on them.

Ken’s field might be the place to witness deer in full feed, I figured, and the full moon in July has a deer theme. It’s called a “Buck Moon,” according to the Farmers Almanac, because the antlers of male deer are in full growth stage.

I asked Ken whether he’d be OK with Ryan and I spending the night sitting in his field.

“Sure,” he said, immediately.

A day earlier, I asked Ryan whether he’d spend the night with me in Ken’s field, starting at midnight.

“Sure,” he said, immediately.

I am fortunate to have people like this in my life.

2 a.m.: While walking about the blueberry field, our path lit solely by moonlight, our shoes turned wet. It happened suddenly. The tall grass had gone from dry to wet, like clothes caught in a cloudburst. This must be the time of night when dew appears.

The next day, I called the National Weather Service office in Seattle to ask about dew. And what’s this “dew point thing?”

“It’s the temperature the air needs to be cooled to achieve saturation or 100% relative humidity,” said Maddie Kristell, a meteorologist with the agency.

And it happens instantly, like the vapor drops suddenly from the air?

“I wouldn’t say it’s instantaneous by any means,” Kristell said, “but if we have a relatively moist air mass and the temperature cools down to it, there’s not a whole lot stopping it from developing and condensing on things pretty quickly.”

3:17 a.m.: According to our friends at the internet, the “full” moon reached its fullness at 3:17 a.m., but even at its height of fullness, it was just 99.8% full. Huh … so a “full moon” isn’t necessarily fully full. And another thing learned: When the moon is full, stars fade. Once a month, it’s the moon’s turn to be the star of the show.

Ryan and I have now spent more than three hours staring at this lily-white sphere 238,900 miles away. Because it’s a windless night, it’s the only thing moving before us — little else is competing for our attention. Oh, the hours I’ve spent staring at a screen 1 foot from my face.

3:54 a.m.: We hear the first trill from a bird, coming from the woods behind us. Within minutes, the blueberry field lights up with the sounds of birds, and you might wonder: That single bird that started all that sound at 3:54 a.m., is it that bird’s job to stir birds?

4 a.m.: A patchy cloud is flowing in from the southeast, and the top of the cloud is illuminated by the light of the moon, casting its folds in shades of light and dark. Soon, the clouds cover the moon. That was the start of our cloudy days that lasted through Sunday and Monday, and Ryan and I saw it start.

4:45 a.m.: We leave the field, about an hour before sunrise. We saw one deer. Later that day, Ken told us the deer come out most often at dawn and dusk. Next time...