I woke up early this morning to the sound of my dog going nuts. This is not a good way to wake up for an old guy like me-- too many creaky joints and an increasing need for ever-more sleep is a bad combination. But the urgency in my dog's behavior was enough that my initial response was to grab my smart-phone, log into my home security system and start going over the cameras for a quick look outside.

The area around the house was clear, but motion tracking caught something around my old barn. I grabbed my handgun (kept on my nightstand) and walked down the hall to my computer room. I needed to look over footage on bigger monitors. The barn footage gave me pause after noticing that my uninvited guests weren't human. The footage didn't indicate much else, and I'd have to go look over my property in the morning to check for damage, theft, etc.

I've seen the PSAs on television for years-- be careful of the Orcs in the woods, report anything suspicious to law enforcement, etc. There had even been a few scattered local reports over the years, but nothing ever seemed to come of them. After the big Orc invasion twenty-odd years ago, the few survivors disappeared into the forests after being pretty much eaten alive by various modern military forces across the world. I've watched a few documentaries, but never seriously entertained the idea that I'd ever actually run into Orcs. Guess life is full of surprises, after all.

My house sits miles out of town and used to be a small farm. The house was nice enough, but I had little use for out buildings, except the well house, and I took some care to ensure they were boarded up and padlocked. Maybe one day I'd find something useful to do with them? The barn is used for storage-- I put a metal shed in there (the barn leaks like crazy when it rains) and store my old junk in the unlikely event I need something in that big pile of plastic bins and boxes. Beyond sentimental value on my part, there's nothing in there of any real worth.

However, the presence of Orcs takes on a level of seriousness I rarely experience. Being former military means I have some idea how to handle hostiles. There are lots of people who had glorious military careers as Rangers and Green Berets and Paratroopers, fighting in little-known, seldom-seen parts of the world-- but I wasn't one of them. I was just your average U.S. Army Infantry grunt who spent my time split between PT, field training exercises and litter patrol around the battalion grounds. I had routine combat training, plus a few “special” courses, but they were nothing to write home about. Make no mistake; I'm proud of my service, but I am hardly the image of an “American Hero”. I never even got deployed anywhere or walked away with any “war stories”. Fortunately, despite frequent attempts by the Department of the Army to kill me with sheer boredom, I learned a great deal.

In my civilian life, I developed a love of hunting and being outdoors, as a nice counterpoint to my rather bland career as a cybersecurity consultant. It felt nice to “unplug” and enjoy the fresh air, trees and quiet during my time in the forests around my property. Most of the time, I never pulled the trigger, or even really tried to “hunt” anything-- I found just walking and thinking for a few hours would do a world of good for me (bad knees notwithstanding). It also gave me plenty of time to learn and practice various outdoor skills, stay in touch with my widely dispersed neighbors and bag the occasional venison or fish dinner. As I get older, this is less frequent, but I get out there when I'm able.

But Orcs aren't deer or fish-- they're smart and cunning and have a reputation for spectacular violence. I'm not interested in going to war with a tribe of Orcs and even less interested in getting myself hurt or killed because I acted impulsively. Like so many things, patience and planning are crucial. But it’s important to note that I'm just one guy, and my name isn't, “Rambo”. I can, however, copy camera footage to disk and file a report with the Sheriff's office as required by law. I picked up the phone and made the call. All I needed to do is wait an hour or two for a deputy to show up and take my report. Plenty of time to make copies and wait for sunrise.

Two hours came and went, but at least the sun was up. I had already gotten dressed and finished a cup of coffee. My visitors didn't make it all the way up to the house. In the early morning dampness, it was easy to see how they'd come in: They appeared to have used my rather lengthy gravel driveway most of the way and cut across to the barn before the split that led up to the house. The tracks seemed to match the number I spotted on camera; three. I decided not to disturb their trail and walked back up to the house to use the driveway to make my way to the far end of the tracks. Time to start looking around more carefully.

My gravel driveway is more than a half mile long and leads to a county road. Traffic is pretty much nonexistent because so few live in this area (it's all farms, really). I decided to carefully search the driveway and its edges, looking for footprints or anything that might have been dropped or left behind. It seems unlikely that my visitors would have crossed a paved road and I decided that if I found nothing on or around my driveway, I'd let the matter drop.

It was mid-morning when I noticed a Deputy Sheriff's patrol car slowly moving up my driveway. Being hours late is not an unusual thing for law enforcement here-- crimes of any sort are rather unusual and it's not a small county. I didn't recognize the Deputy. I had gotten about halfway through my search and decided it was a good time for a break. I invited the Deputy up to the house for coffee while we addressed the paperwork. An hour later, a bored-looking Deputy finally drove off with a signed report and a copy of my footage, leaving behind only a business card and the distinct impression that I wasn't going to see much enthusiasm regarding a follow-up investigation. At least I had a driveway to search.

Returning to the search, I found the Orc's entry and exit point from the forest to my driveway. They were smart enough to use a single point of entry, which I found interesting. I pulled out my phone and fired up a nifty “theodolite” type app that lets me take pictures overlayed with navigation data like coordinates, compass bearing, time/date, etc. It also allows for notes to be added to a given picture. I decided to start at the barn and take pictures, adding notes and building a map of their movements to the edge of my driveway. Then I went back to the house to collect up some gear.

On the way, I took some time to consider what I was about to do. Did I need to track these Orcs? What were the odds they would return considering they didn't seem to find anything interesting? Was I better off just trusting the Sheriff's Department to handle this? Was this intrusion worth the potential risk to life and limb that might be involved? Long ago I learned a particularly relevant saying: “Do not run towards your own death.” The part of me that never got past age 17 thought it was great fun to have an actual enemy; that this kind of risk was fun and worth the adrenaline rush. The more reasonable 50-something part of me was less convinced that doing something about these interlopers was a good use of my time. Factor in my generally not-so-great physical condition (got to love the bad knees) and lack of any sort of backup or assistance and this quickly becomes a rather unappetizing prospect.

“I think I'd like to call a friend, Regis.” I muttered to myself.

Except that I really don't have any friends-- at least none that would agree to something like this. It's a disappointing feeling. My son lives hours away and has his own family to look after. I don't have any drinking buddies drunk enough for this. My few hunting buddies are all older and in worse shape than myself-- and have zero experience with this kind of problem. I took a solid half an hour to think this over while finishing off the last cup in a pot of coffee.

The weather today didn't look so good: Cold, overcast, high humidity and a good chance for rain this afternoon. If it rained, tracking would become far more difficult. I'd already blown half a day on other things and it seemed unlikely I was going to accomplish much in the few hours of daylight left. Pursuing an enemy through unknown terrain is a bad idea. Doing so at night is just crazy talk-- not happening. In the end, I decided this wasn't worth it. Maybe if they come back? But otherwise, I'm better off just puttering around the house as usual and walking the dog occasionally instead of worrying about Orcs. Still not a bad idea to check over my hunting and outdoor gear, however.