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| This is the start of my blog on Writing.com. I'm going to be very closed, since I don't know what I'm doing yet. I have read that I need to start a journal in order to establish my bio, and I'm experimenting, learning, tentatively reaching into a new area, so here I am being careful. I'll erase this entry once I get more comfortable. Cheers! Heloise |
| "Walking the woods" means that sometimes you pay close attention to where you put your feet. Sometimes it means you are going to fall, and you have to figure out where your foot is going so that you will take the fall with the least harm. Sometimes it means walking in so much rain that even with Maritime rain gear you get soaked to the bone, and you slosh with every step because your shoes and socks are so wet they simply give interesting physics to the wetness issue. Sometimes it means sliding on spring ice, watching the water run underneath you and moving to the harder surfaces hoping you don't fall in. It means being whipped by hurricane winds so strong you can barely stand up as you fight to get back to the car. |
| I just heard on the news that a bear attacked a man and his dog in the North woods. The man was so incensed that his dog might die that he got onto the bear's back and kept stabbing and stabbing it until it died. The bear's head is being sent to Ottawa to check for rabies. Are the rabies specialists in Ottawa? Anyone checking the leaders of the western world for attacking citizens and children? |
| This morning, as Evelyn and I were heading back from exercise, we entered the dip in the road that is the start of the 50 km zone. On our left, I saw a little doe nibbling at a neighbour's tree. She was on the side of the road, so safe where she stood, chewing. Deer and rabbits have a mental wiring that says "When there is trouble, go back where you came from." We knew that this location was trouble for the deer, so we slowed to a rolling stop. Over the ridge, in the other direction was a half ton, coming too fast. Evelyn leaned on her horn to warn the driver to stop! He slowed down as fast as he could, but the horn also startled the deer, and she took off in the direction of the woods on our side of the road. She almost made it but the truck got her hind end, SCHMACK, and I saw the hit, her red legs flying out from under her. I screamed and shut my eyes. When I opened them, she had made it to the ditch on our side. Luckily, the truck driver stopped (he was probably too embarrassed to leave the scene, given that we were witnesses). The bushes were moving, the only sign I could see of her struggle to get away. But I knew her back legs were broken, and there was no rescue for this beautiful beast. Cell phones came out as we searched for a friend with a gun to come to our aide. Sometimes death is far preferable than life, certainly when death is certain no matter what the circumstances. As I drove by the spot this evening, the spot where the deer was quietly feeding, and then across the road where she died, there were no bushes moving. The tragedy of this loss was gone from the landscape. But I cry for her. |
| Hello. I really HAVE added writing to my site, I just haven't figured out where this is coming from...so I'm responding to have it stop reminding me to update. Sorry for any inconvenience. H |
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