Greeting Old Friends

As I write this, most of the Snow lying about has departed. The Soil is still frozen, nonetheless...I attempted to dig a small hole for an errant Tulip bulb. Even as the tips of other Bulbs are showing green, the Earth had not yet heard the message.

I am awaiting, with great longing, the soft scent coming from warm, Southerly breezes. Wind, this afternoon, has a very sharp edge...one which chased me indoors after spending a morning in the Snow-free landscape.


I injured my shoulder a few days ago, which has hampered me in many ways, typing being one of them. It is not serious, only somewhat painful. It has kept me indoors, resting it, for most of my time. But this morning, after returning from the vet's for a check-up of Lucky's ears, I could not resist the warm-ish early Sunshine, no matter an injured shoulder!


As all gardeners will do, I wandered about, raking a bit here, poking about there. I pondered the fact I now recognized favoured perennials which were showing the minutest signs of life. Last year, I had not lived here long enough.


There was no formal garden here, when we took ownership of our home. It was a completely blank slate. So many plants have been planted over the last four seasons of Spring we've lived here I have trouble remembering them all. Many only lasted a season, at any rate...until I finally grasped an understanding of which Plants could survive the harsh climate they would have to live in.


The Plants reaching for the Spring sunshine this morning have proved their worth. Many Tulips are pushing through the frozen Soil. I see signs of Forget-Me-Nots, Daffodils, Poppies, a  wee Violet here and there, Pansies and Borage seedlings. Many of the old friends are still snoozing, waiting for warmer weather. Their roots are firm as yet, I notice with a bit of trepidation, during a quick check.


I make connections with Plants in the garden, as I plant them, but it has taken time with this one. I was also heavily involved in building raised beds...it became more a matter of...Yes, this Plant will look good here, and the other here, the next over there...


You know how it goes.

And so the connections I formed were tenuous, at best. But the Plants which continue to emerge every year, every season, mostly right on time, these are the ones I greet now as dear, old friends.

Usually, these favoured ones are perennials or small shrubs. We planted an Apple and a Cherry Tree. Although both are doing well, they are still young, without the wisdom of the wild, elderly Trees we are surrounded by.


I have discovered it takes time to 'know' a Tree in an entire Forest of them. I made the mistake of thinking I could just pick a nice Tree, one I was attracted to, and make friends, thereby connecting.


It didn't happen. At least not right away, as I fully expected it to do. Each Tree I approached was friendly enough, but neither of us had that energy surge which occurs, in these situations, between us.


Over time, after I had lost patience with the whole thing and had largely forgotten about it, each Winter, I would notice a big, old but curiously graceful Paper Birch which grew in the base of the Draw in front of our home.


I noticed it in the Winter for obvious reasons. Even though the Tree towers over the rest growing near it, I would not have been able to see it after the fleshing out of Leaves, from her and others...her babies...around her. 


In the Winter months, however, her triangled top shows clearly...a beautiful sight with fresh Snow layering her filigreed branches. Birds have nested in the crotch of the triangle...a perfect spot! I watched a family of Robins nest there last year, although there is no longer any sign of them.

This is the Tree I have a connection with. An odd choice...one whose top seems to have split, making her appear headless, although I know she is not. She is old, she has watched over the land for a long time before I ever knew it. And she is a survivor.


But from all the hundreds of Trees here on this Land, this old Birch is the one who will tell me stories of the countryside, of the way things were. She is my inspiration, my guide and my muse, a part of my Spirit.


I am happy to see she has, once more, survived the long, gruesome Winter just passed. I look up to see one of her fingers pointing to a lone Eagle flying high overhead. We both rejoice at the sighting...Eagles are rarely seen during colder days.

I marvel at how lacy her tangled branches appear...naked and black against a clear, blue Sky, twisting and turning every which way...yet inordinately graceful. Her trunk is long, curving and white, largely without branches.  She is beginning to shed long, white strips of her bark, exposing  reddish-orange inner bark, which will turn black with age.


It is not surprising I am drawn to her. Birch Trees help mankind and animals in myriad ways. She is Winter food for Deer, Moose, Porcupine and Beaver. In years gone by, she has lent her Bark for baskets, cradles and canoes. Her Bark was also used for wrapping and storing food, and as roofing for pit houses. She gave medicine for colds.  Her sap is fermented to make beer, wine, spirits and vinegar.


I've not had the pleasure of trying any of her products, but I did notice a bottle of Birch syrup in one of the health food stores I frequent. With the amount of Paper Birches in the Forest here, where I live, I've often thought it would be fun to tap a few, but I have no idea how to begin.


The Paper Birch is the Tree of new beginnings and new perspectives. A perfect Tree to choose for another ally!


As I prepare my Tea, I notice another dark Cloud, stronger Wind. The Leaves I've just finished raking are catching the Wind, whirling and spiralling about. Snowflakes are beginning to descend once again.


Will Winter never give up?


But then, I remember the growth my old friends in the garden are showing.


Spring will not give up, either.

Spirit of Spring

I enjoy rising early in the morning, even in Winter's dark. It is the time of day...the darkness before the dawn...when Animals move about the Forest. Even though I can't see them, my ear picks up slight sounds in the silence of the coming Winter's morning.

If it is not so frigid, I will bundle up and go outside, on the deck. If the Stars are out, I know I will have only a few moments in the cold before I must go in.When the Sky is clear, the temperatures can be too dangerous...frostbite can occur very quickly.


I am looking forward to the days lengthening. In late Winter or really early Spring, Animals are on the move again, just as they are in the Fall. Then, when the Morning is not quite as dark for so long, they are easily seen. But now, it is only the sounds that tell me an Animal friend has visited.


In the darkness, my hearing becomes more acute. The deck is huge, hanging over an embankment, looking over the Forest. Everything seems to be completely silent. Until I settle myself and become quiet, I imagine Animals standing as if frozen, their golden eyes glued on my figure.


When I am finally still, the rustlings in the Forest begin again. If it is a larger Animal, and with two feet of Snow on the ground, there is no mistaking it. I can hear my neighbour up the road walking on the Snow and Ice...the emphatic crunch of footfalls is clearly audible in the clear, cold Air.


When a bigger Animal, such as a Moose or Mule Deer, wanders through, even though I can hear him, it is impossible to see him in the early morning darkness. My best bet is to look for the golden glint of their eyes which reflect the porch light, in the general direction of the sound. And then, to look for a shadow and a blocky, energetic feel that shouldn't be there.


Eventually, the shadow will move. Should it be a Moose or Deer, if I or the light has startled them, the silence of the Dawn is suddenly broken. The crackling noise of a Moose crashing through the icy, Snow-covered Brush is one not to be forgotten.

It is not unusual to hear Coyotes singing, on some small, Snow-covered Hill somewhere close by, if they have made a kill. But the other night, just as I stepped onto the deck for a moment of quiet contemplation, I heard the Wolves greeting the Moon.

The night was ordinary. There was a far distant honk from a vehicle on the highway, lights glinting way off across the Valley, and a soft Westerly Wind sighing through the Trees. My mind was far away on some concern or another...

As I leaned against the deck railing, looking out over the Snow covered Field, the Wolves began their indescribable, unearthly howl.

It seemed as if all sound stopped...I could hear the World listening as the Lords of the Forest raised their noses and howled at the New Moon.

The awed silence lasted for only a slight moment, though...more Dogs than I've ever heard in my life began hysterical barking, yowling and howling in return...from every corner of the Valley.


But that moment, when everything and everyone remained in surprised, silent wonder, that moment shone.

Coyote's song rarely brings forth such a frenzied greeting from the neighbourhood Dogs.


I wonder at the reason for the Wolves' songfest. Why did the Wolves howl? Generally, it is because they have made a kill and are satiated, singing out their gratitude. I dearly hope their kill, which is made for their own survival, is not the Mother Deer who has been missing from the side of her Fawn for the last few days.


The Deer and her youngster have stayed on our property all Winter. It is not unusual to see the two browsing on the tips of the branches of the Saskatoon Berry bushes or chewing on the young Interior Fir branches or huddling together under the grove of Fir Trees at the bottom of our field, during a nasty Snow and Ice Storm.

Mostly, Lucky and Nate stay inside, escaping the hypothermic weather which makes up the Cariboo Winter. But there are days when they will be outside when Mother and her Fawn trail through.


The two dogs have had good experiences with Deer; there seems to be an almost symbiotic relationship between them. There is a small excited woof which escapes them...and then they are off to the great divide...the fence. The Deer will retreat to a safe distance and turn and watch the Dogs, who, after heeding Nature's call and marking spots on every snowy Hillock, will sit and watch the Deer right back.


I am accustomed to their behaviour, yet the interactions between the two species still has the ability to warm my heart.


But, as mentioned, Mama Deer has been absent during the last few appearances of her youngster. The young Deer, as well, has a look of great hesitancy about him, as he steps gingerly through the very deep Snow, caution outlined in every muscle of his body.


The Dogs' behaviour has changed, too. They seem distressed, when only one Deer is there to greet them...and the youngster, at that. Lucky will run up and down the fence line, nose in the Air, searching, searching...while Nate stays, staring at the Deer, as if to reassure.


It seems early in the season for Mama to have left Baby on his own, which happens usually when female Deer seek solitude to nest. But, still, I am hoping this is the reason Baby is alone.

I know it is the way of things. The predator and the prey. When I found myself becoming a bit attached to the two Deer, I also listened to the warning I heard in my mind. Enjoying the close encounters with the Animals who live here is one thing; forming attachments is foolish.


The weather here, and of course, elsewhere, too, has been strange. A week ago, one could have sworn the Spirit of Spring was only around the corner. It became quite warm; Snow melted, turning into Ice overnight, as temperatures dipped. Buds on Trees and Bushes began to swell.

I was not overly worried about the young Deer then. But just like that, the weather changed; an Arctic front pushed its way down and once again, frigid temperatures were the norm, along with Snowfall warnings...and then, yesterday, a wild Blizzard blew. We were back into the thick of Winter.

And then, today, right at four o'clock, baby Deer visited as usual. He brought some friends, completely befuddling the Dogs.

Our Dogs didn't see the others, until they exploded out of the bush and even in the deep Snow, they did not have a problem with navigation.


Baby Deer wasn't sure what to do...should he follow the others or stay and greet two very excited Dogs? He chose to follow his friends at first...and then came back, browsing on his favourite Tree, watching Lucky and Nate, who seemed to go a little insane. Lucky actually ran headfirst into the gate...I'm not too sure what he was thinking!



With each passing day, the small Deer will grow. If he has learned well from his Mama, he will seek cover during the day, foraging in the early morning and late afternoon.

Young male Mule Deer will find other male youngsters to hang out with, while the females have their babies. They'll stay in friendly little herds such as this, until rutting season, when the males will become solitary.


The Spirit of Spring dips her toes into Winter's Icy Pond and retreats...but not before she leaves a hint of her soft breath behind.

Even with masses of Snow on the ground and sub-zero temperatures, that soft breath gives the reminder that the cold will pass, just as it does every year.


It won't be long now.

Exuberance!

During the course of my life, I have never experienced anything quite like the wildly exuberant Cariboo Spring. 

The Land here is rife with Bush growing wildly and encroaching everywhere, with Birds from far away countries trilling their song from each Tree, with Deer and Fox and Rabbit and Squirrel all doing their respective mating dances...some right in front of me.

I guess it is only the Human species who want privacy during their mating dance, because it surely isn't a priority among the Animals.

I have yet to see Deer actually mate, but they show off their offspring to me with regularity. And Fox visited the other day, as silently as usual. I thought she was by herself, but once the coast was clear, meaning no Dogs around, she allowed me to see her family.  There were three kits, I believe, each tumbling over each other in their eagerness to keep up with Mom.

They were outside the fence. Mom wanted to be sure there was no impediment to their getaway, should this be required.She sat in full view with her kits, her eyes meeting mine. It was a look that has passed between Mothers through the ages...full of pride, understanding, and loving patience.

The Mother Fox may have looked at ease and relaxed, as I watched.  But I noticed Red-tailed Hawk fly overhead, and the next time I looked for the Fox family, they were nowhere to be seen. In just a wee instant, they were gone.

The huge Mule Deer have babies as big as an adult White-tailed Deer on the Island. There is a mother Deer here who regularly brings her rather large, still faintly spotted baby for me to admire.  She will leave her youngster among a group of Fir Trees while she browses,  even knowing I am watching from the deck. Should any danger approach,she will be there with her baby instantly. But on this quiet day, no danger lurked, and baby whiled away the afternoon among the Firs

Birds find a haven in the backyard in a pile of brush which is slated to be burned in the Fall, since there is presently a Fire ban. But Squirrel has recently discovered his own hiding place amidst the brush and regularly chases or even kills the young fledglings who seek safety there.


Squirrel will eventually fall prey to one of the larger Hawks who frequent the area.  Hawks have babies as well and there is a very young red-tailed Hawk who lives in the Forested part of our property. I have seen him practice his killing skills...he is not very good at it, as yet. And I mourn for the Birds he maims and who will flutter and tweet, until finally the young Hawk is able to finish his kill. I mourn for the Birds who try and get away, only to fall victim to Hawk's quick strikes, tumbling into the brush with Hawk swiftly in pursuit.

It is completely silent, after one of Hawk's kills.  Even the Insects fall quiet. And then, after a silent signal only Animals can see or hear, a cacophony of twitters, chirps, and buzzing begin once again.


I love to sit on the deck after chores have been completed, find my Bird book and drink my Tea.  It is so interesting at this time of year; many different kinds of birds flock through this area on their way North.


There are a few Birds I do not require a book for, since they are easily recognizable.  One is the Raven, of course.


There are two Ravens who make their home here with us. They love to rile the Dogs, both of whom know if their back is turned, Raven will swoop down and steal a bone. They make the Ravens big in the Cariboo...I doubt if I have even seen one quite as large as the shiny, blackish-blue Raven who believes he rules this place.  He projects a royal presence...a kingly sureness.


Last year, he brought his young.  Young Ravens do not have their father's strong presence...they are comical in that their feathers appear to be growing every which way, they quarrel amongst themselves, they fall off the wire to which they cling, swinging upside down, until they flutter to the ground, still cawing in that young Raven voice. It does not matter.  Parents...yes, even Raven parents, are proud of their young and their parental accomplishment.


On my way to a Hospice appointment the other day, I was completely surprised by two young Eagles fighting over a  Fish. They swooped and swirled, both attempting to fly and hang onto the Fish at the same time.


I was on a deserted highway, right next to a rest area, as it happens. I stopped there, and watched the Eagles as they continued to fight over the Fish. Inevitably, during a tug of war, the Fish flopped to the ground.

Even as young as the two Eagles were, they were big!

They were not interested in me, a mere Human sitting in a car. One Eagle flashed to the ground, and hopped closer to the Fish, while the other berated and grumbled and flopped about in the Air.


And then, quite inexplicably, the Eagle on the ground flew off, along with the Eagle already in the Air. The Fish flopped weakly, and then lay still. Not for long, however. One of the Eagles returned, the other nowhere in sight, and picked up the now dead Fish. He flew off with his prize.


And I drove on with my prize...a feather which had fluttered to the ground during the Eagles' brouhaha.


I am in wonderment when I arrive at my appointment and tell whoever will listen about what I've just seen. But the people I tell are all long-time Cariboo residents...they have seen Animals like this interact for a very long time...it becomes commonplace. But not for me.


Summer will be here soon, and in the dry, hot heat of a Summer's day, the Animals seek shade and Water, find the deepest part of a Forest, fly further North. Spring is bounteous and beautiful here, but it lasts for only a very short time.


I will not see most of my friends again until the Fall, when they will once more return, making our property a stopover on their way South.

I must make sure I stock up on Bird Seed, because the Cariboo Spring and its joyful creatures will have decimated my supply.


And then, perhaps, there will be another gift to me from one of them.


I consider a feather or two perfectly adequate payment!