Securing the Line

I followed the loose green nylon thread left from the morning reconnaissance along the deck planks. A stray wooden clothespin half-buried beneath dried leaves caught my focus. Stepping onto the weathered wood with my boots locked, I gripped the wire spring with my free right hand and levered it open. I slipped the trailing green thread straight through the metal clamp and let the jaws bite down against the edge of the wicker chair frame. With the line clamped taut and my left arm balanced for the falcon, our perimeter is firmly anchored.