Friday, November 30, 2007

Ah, Life in the Country

The day started swell yesterday. The sun was out and although it was cold, it was still a beautiful morning for a walk with the dogs.
I have the two smaller ones on a leash - Molly and Dakota are small enough that a large predator bird such as a turkey vulture or even a hawk could swoop them up before I could get to them, so they cannot run with the big dogs.
Now that the leaves have fallen and most of the foilage is gone, the big dogs have taken to separating from us. The road doesn't seem to offer the allure for Emma and Sadie that it did when we first arrived and they tear through the woods, usually catching up with us later.
Emma and Sadie had already disappeared when me, Molly and Dakota made our way up the winding driveway.
I whistled for the big dogs to come back and smiled at the realization that a bird was whistling to me in return. I stood and listened to him for a few minutes.
That's what I loved about the freelance life yesterday morning. I couldn't have experienced that having to time in on TACT at 7 a.m. in my corporate cube - I couldn't even have been living here then.
I wasn't as productive as I had hoped during the day, so as we embarked on our late afternoon 1 mile trek, I told Emma and Sadie to stay close so I could come home and work a little more.
Yeah, right.
We neared the area we call "the ruins," so called for the ruins of a house that sits on the property. Well, actually, its the concrete foundation with just a few char-scarred trees from the fire that claimed the house nearby. The only thing really still standing is a lonely chimney and a few small trees that are now growing from its center.
Emma and Sadie were gone.
The little dogs and I made our way along the leaf covered path - this is an area very deep in the woods now along the point, surrounded by Bull Shoals Lake on both sides.
It's a beautiful walk, perhaps the prettiest part of our afternoon hike, but I don't like being in there when it's getting dark. The cannopied trees remind me too much of scenes from Sleepy Hallow - I can imagine a headless horseman galloping toward us on his dark horse...
So we waited awhile for Emma and Sadie and my aunt's dog who always accompanies us on these late day walks.
But the sun was starting to set. I called to them a few more times as we made our way toward home.
Once there, I tured the Christmas lights on and waited. It grew darker and I grew more worried.
Bears, coyotes, bob cats, mountain lions and poachers - along with their steel jawed traps are along the rocky shorelines at night.
Sadie, the pitbull, could fight most of those attackers off, but Emma is growing long in the tooth and isn't as agile as she was when she first came to us.
I had planned on writing at least one article upon returning home, but I was too worried, so I distracted myself with computer pinball (more on that on Monday).
I heard a thud on the deck and I bounded for the door, hoping both of my dogs would be there, but Sadie was alone, her white face covered in something elses blood.
I wiped her off and recovered from the disgust just as my husband arrived home.
Still panicked by the blood, I grabbed my coat and told him we were driving toward the point to see if we could see Emma.
Just as we pulled the truck from the drive, here she came, trotting proudly with something in her mouth.
"Oh, gross. What is it, a squirrel?" I asked my husband.
"Looks like a skull," he said.
Yep. A deer head, minus the antlers someone had sawed off. The dogs probably found the remains and had a great time with the carcass.
Both walks reminded me that we're not in the Kansas suburbs anymore, Toto.
But I hope to have more experiences like the one yesterday morning as opposed to the one of last night.


Post a Comment

<< Home