36 degrees for my morning walk. Mists rising off the lake are being blown southward over the surface by a slight northern breeze, lifting over the opposite shoreline like a cloud. The bay is still and calm. I love these mornings watching the earth wake up, and still smile at that magical moment when the birds all begin to sing in unison. Embrace this day and make it a good one.

October 15, 2008

This past week was exceptional in regards to sunrises and sunsets. Wednesday morning was the first where I was able to rise before dawn, ready for the show. This peach sunrise was soft and sweet and chilly, which set the stage for a lovely walk with Baylee after coffee. The Giraffe Head Tree seemed to be enjoying the view as much as me. This inspired me to once again rise before dawn for walking, despite the odd ambling armadillos and sneaky feral cats that make Baylee try to remove my right arm from its socket as she bolts for a chase.

So, Friday morning I woke unbidden at 5am and knew it was the day for a pre-dawn walk. Saddling up Baylee, clean-up bags in hand, I donned a jacket and stole out the front door heading for the marina. My idea was to stay on the main road, which is level and well lighted, and keep my hand on the leash loose in case Baylee darts after some hapless creature.

The eastern sky was just beginning to change to rose when we crossed into the next phase of the neighborhood. Suddenly, up ahead about 50 yards I see something standing in the roadway watching our approach. I stop, Baylee stops, the world stops. The night is perfectly quiet as we all wonder what to do. The creature makes the first move. Oh great, I think, it's a cat as the small, furry creature begins scurrying toward the common area. No, not a cat but perhaps a small dog. No, not a dog...a coyote? No, too small. It's a fox. A red fox. Small, so it must be a female or a young fox. As she continues her rapid pace down the roadway Baylee and I continue to simply watch her. She ducks out of sight behind some garages and though we cannot see her we can discern her progress by the sound of barking dogs.

When we first moved to the lake a pair of red foxes were frequent visitors. One foggy morning I was standing on our deck and watched as the male padded down to our lower deck. Red foxes are so beautiful, and these were a well-behaved couple. As the neighborhood grew the foxes retreated more into the forest so I was amazed to see one visiting last week. Obviously, they haven't gone away at all but simply choose their visits at an earlier hour. My friend Carroll was alarmed by the sighting. "What if that fox had rabies?!!!??" I was touched by her concern for my safety. But still...

Yes, foxes can carry rabies but so can the ubiquitous raccoons. The bumbling armadillos carry leprosy, and the squirrels have fleas. So what. We chose to live among nature here, and every sighting is cause for celebration. The neighborhood here has its problems, but every negative is countered by the vast amount of wildlife we are privileged to observe, every breathtaking sunrise and sunset upon the lake, the very wildness of this place that makes us feel awe.

That takes me to my rant - I'm amused by developers who name their monstrous, sterile housing projects after nature. "Fox's Run," "Walden's Wood," "Hawk's Bluff," "The Preserve at Eagle Canyon," etc., when the very creatures after whom they name these developments have long since been run off by the bulldozers and noise, discouraged by the felled trees, and killed by the herbicides and pesticides that turn the ground into lush green lawns devoid of interest, beneficial insects and butterflies. (....no offense intended to anyone with a neatly manicured lawn...I think you know the kind I'm talking about.)

Nature is messy and random - it doesn't have curbs and gutters or a clubhouse. I know that I am atypical when it comes to this subject but somehow seeing that fox and feeling the riot of joy and glee that erupted deep within me made me feel very blessed and whole. Give me foxes any day of the week - you can keep the clubhouse.

Baylee

Baylee looking for squirrels

Baylee's paw has thankfully healed completely and the Thera-Paw bootie is retired. As good as she has been about wearing the thing, I cannot tell you just how old the routine was getting to be.

Can we go for a walk NOW?

We're back to our early morning long walks to the marina and back. However, I avoid gravel roads now and make sure she's on grass or the sidewalk and watch ahead for icky stuff in the road.

Baylee and my mom

She's so happy these days! Well, she's always happy. Fall is in the air and our morning walks have been blissfully cool and breezy. After she accomplishes her "big business" she'll leap in the air and run around in little circles, her tail high in the air - she is so funny! The road to the marina is lined with the lake front houses on the right and a large forest across the street to the left. One pre-dawn morning walk earlier this week Baylee and I heard a symphony of Great Horned Owls in the forest. The bass section would do their hoot...hoot-hoot-hoots..., which was answered by the soprano section of higher hoot...hoot-hoot-hoots. It sounded like several, or many, Great Horned Owls talking back and forth. GHO romancing, I'm thinking. Baylee stopped, sat down and looked into the forest for several minutes quietly listening, as did I. I'd never heard an owl symphony before, and was amazed by the simple beauty of the soft sounds. As dawn grew brighter the birds got quieter. When their song ended we resumed our walk. I love living here, and I love my dog.

My Good Dog

Baylee and I walk every morning. Well, most mornings. Rising at 5am, give or take, I snap the leash on her, grab a couple of clean-up bags and off we go into the pre-dawn. She looks forward to it as much as I do.

We've shared some incredible adventures while the neighborhood slumbers. Most winter mornings we hear the Great Horned Owls hoot incessantly in a nearby forest. Walking on the marina's barrier barge we interrupt all manner of water fowl activities. Green Herons perching, gaggles of geese or codgeries of coots or a bunch of ducks swimming hastily away as we approach. Baylee's nose is always in overdrive during these walks. Great Blue Herons fly overhead, and barn swallows dart and swoop when spring approaches. During summer months she loves to sit with her head up and watch the Purple Martins play on the wind. They come in great swarms and stay throughout the hot months eating tons of insects. The autumn months are our favorite, as temperatures cool and humidity goes away and leaves scurry before us granting Baylee play time chasing them. There are places we'll sit together and watch the sun rise, watch boats leave the marina heading to points unknown, watch birds lift in flight before heading home for breakfast and coffee on the deck.

Most often we'll meet other early risers, both two-legged and four-legged varieties. Her friend's names are as cute as hers. Bonnie & Clyde, Fossie, Bama, Daisy, Iris, Dempsey, and Bogie all love to say their hello's with wagging tails and many sniffs. In fact, I've given Baylee a new nickname - "Manyanysniffs." (With nod to Jennyanydots of Cat's fame.)

Sadly, our morning walks together have come to a halt for at least two months. Somehow Baylee has sliced off part of her right hind foot's pad. The large one. Well, SHE didn't do it herself obviously, but apparently stepped on something incredibly sharp that did the slicing. About a quarter of it is simply missing. What's left is a clean slice of raw meat. Our veterinarian literally winced when he looked at it and complimented Baylee on being such a good girl. I'd only noticed her licking it one day and it appeared to be red so I took her in. She has never yelped or cried or favored it. She's even taken walks with me before I noticed it. Amazing. So, she's on antibiotics and has to wear a Thera-Paw for her necessary walks, which must remain short. The pad will grow back, we've been assured, but it will take diligent doctoring on our parts. Amazingly, she will even lift her paw up to have her bootie strapped on. What a good dog.

Therefore, the past two mornings I've taken my walk without my companion. While I've noticed an increase in beneficial aerobics, I confess it's just not as much fun without Baylee. It's going to be a long two months.

If I Had My Way

If I had my way children and pets would never be abandoned or abused. They would always have full bellies and clean water and lots of love and a warm, safe place to sleep. If I had my way I'd have a huge farm house in the middle of acres and acres of woodlands and rolling hills bordered by a river and I would have tons of animals and kids and lap up the love and beauty every day from my front porch Felder Rocker. If I had my way I would shoot great photos and make a living photographing and writing. If I had my way I would see Bald Eagles daily, and I would never tire of the sight. If I had my way I would never, ever leave my lake and my butterflies and my birds. If I had my way my birdseed container would never be empty, my birdfeeders would never break, and the cats would be happy eating the odd mouse instead of being tempted by my feathered friends. If I had my way my back would be strong and my yard would be filled with flowers and seedpods and grasses and trees and rock paths and driftwoods and all manner of natural beauty. If I had my way every butterfly species would visit my garden and politely and patiently pose for my camera. If I had my way my dear mother and all my bestest pals would live close by and we would visit often and laugh long and enjoy coffee with sunrises and wine with sunsets. If I had my way everyone would have a Golden Tree Hour.

I consider these and other ponderings during daily pre-dawn walks with my dog, Baylee. We walk to the beat of hooting Great Horned Owls and soak up the clear night sky and bright, abundant, twinkling stars. Mars has been huge this autumn. Watching the heavens revolve around the red planet has been a morning meditation. The loons are beginning to arrive for winter, and their haunting cries give me shivers of pleasure. My morning walks are very Zen - extraordinarily transcendent. They grant my soul peace while at the same time strengthening my back and heart. Hopefully, it's firming the rest of me as well. The chilly temperatures keep everyone else indoors warm in their beds so my walks lend a bit of solitude in my otherwise busy day.

Morning walks are a time for reflection, time for prayer, time to ponder and time to wonder what I would actually do, if I had my way.