The groundwork

When did I become a Druid? I'm not really sure. Looking back, I think that I've been walking the path for most of my life, long before I knew what modern Druidry was. I've always felt a strong connection to animals and nature as well as a great love of history. The majority of my life was spent on the Russian River in Northern California, surrounded by redwoods. It wasn't paradise; there were floods, weeks spent without electricity or running water, trees that blocked the road, but some of the memories I'll treasure forever - the quail and the woodpeckers bringing their chicks to the feeder, the pileated woodpecker who let me watch her feeding her baby, the grumpy old blue heron on the beach, the ospreys who would keep me company while I was working in the garden.
My mother loved all things Irish and Scottish. My father, while being the most practical of men, had a touch of the Sight, enough to make him comfortable with supernatural things. Living in Sonoma County in the Seventies and Eighties, there was no shortage of the supernatural.
Four or five years ago, when I was going through a particularly difficult time, a young buck appeared. I would take my little dog - a elderly, nearly blind llasa mix - for a walk, and this deer would be waiting and would walk with us. Deliberately waiting. Oftentimes, he would be close enough to touch. If another person came along, he would slip away then come back when I was alone. At the time, I simply accepted his company with gratitude. It was only later, when I was more settled, that I realized it was my spirit guide - angel, whatever term you prefer - that came to offer me comfort and to remind me that I was not alone.
It was during that period that I fully acknowledged the druidic and pagan path that I had been
unconciously following for so long. That is when the quest began...