The Call of the Wild
Jan. 9th, 2013 08:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thothmesIt has been winter here lately. Not old fashioned, real Vermont winter, mind you, although we did have a few days of that at the very beginning of the year, but winter, with light fluffy snow. The ski places have been doing land office business, and the economy has been benefiting greatly from the influx of folks from away, spending money in local shops. After last year's almost total flop of a winter, things are good.
Now I don't alpine ski. My parents weren't of that socio-economic class when I was growing up, and besides, my husband sees too many knees of people who do alpine skiing to really encourage it in those he loves. I've been doing nordic skiing since I was 12 though, and that's the exercise I choose when snow is coming down, and if I chose to walk or run I would have to be arguing right-of-way with the plows. I have the right of way, but plows are big, and I don't want to be right, but dead. So I've been doing some nordic skiing around our back acres, and I've been having such fun with it that I've been doing it even on some bright sunny days. Cold, clear, fresh air, sunshine, and a pleasant feeling of being out and about. What's not to like?
Today I went out to ski (a little rushed and a little late due to having to deal with the issues of paying for the next session of figure skating and of The Whirlwind's lost ski poles before she goes to Ski Runners on Friday) so there I was, stepping into my bindings at 1:30, when I'd intended to be out there by 1:00 p.m. at the latest. I'm just slipping my hands into the straps on the poles and gripping them when an unearthly howl rises up behind me. It's loud, it's wild, and it's not very far off. Coyotes, and plenty of them, in the middle of the day, in broad daylight. It was eerie and beautiful, and totally unexpected at that time of day. It made my day.
Our neighbor's dog? Not so much. The poor fellow spent the next half hour sending out periodic "I'm here! My pack is here!" barks, before he finally gave up and quieted down. Generally speaking, he's not a very talkative fellow.
Our neighbors are freaked out by having coyotes in the area. I'm not. I love it. These are wild animals, and they are shy. I'm not silly enough to let my cats roam outside, not because of the coyotes, but because of the fisher cats, who think cats are yummy good eatin' when they can't get wild turkey. Dogs are required to be on a lead, although it's a law more honored in the breach. I am one of the very few in town who has actually seen a live coyote. He was traveling on his own, and was padding across a snowy field about two years ago as winter was fading into spring, and he was making for the road to cross it and get back to the woods on the other side. He got a look at me, and abruptly decided he wanted to head back to the woods he'd come from.
I love coyotes. Then again, I don't keep either sheep or chickens.
Now I don't alpine ski. My parents weren't of that socio-economic class when I was growing up, and besides, my husband sees too many knees of people who do alpine skiing to really encourage it in those he loves. I've been doing nordic skiing since I was 12 though, and that's the exercise I choose when snow is coming down, and if I chose to walk or run I would have to be arguing right-of-way with the plows. I have the right of way, but plows are big, and I don't want to be right, but dead. So I've been doing some nordic skiing around our back acres, and I've been having such fun with it that I've been doing it even on some bright sunny days. Cold, clear, fresh air, sunshine, and a pleasant feeling of being out and about. What's not to like?
Today I went out to ski (a little rushed and a little late due to having to deal with the issues of paying for the next session of figure skating and of The Whirlwind's lost ski poles before she goes to Ski Runners on Friday) so there I was, stepping into my bindings at 1:30, when I'd intended to be out there by 1:00 p.m. at the latest. I'm just slipping my hands into the straps on the poles and gripping them when an unearthly howl rises up behind me. It's loud, it's wild, and it's not very far off. Coyotes, and plenty of them, in the middle of the day, in broad daylight. It was eerie and beautiful, and totally unexpected at that time of day. It made my day.
Our neighbor's dog? Not so much. The poor fellow spent the next half hour sending out periodic "I'm here! My pack is here!" barks, before he finally gave up and quieted down. Generally speaking, he's not a very talkative fellow.
Our neighbors are freaked out by having coyotes in the area. I'm not. I love it. These are wild animals, and they are shy. I'm not silly enough to let my cats roam outside, not because of the coyotes, but because of the fisher cats, who think cats are yummy good eatin' when they can't get wild turkey. Dogs are required to be on a lead, although it's a law more honored in the breach. I am one of the very few in town who has actually seen a live coyote. He was traveling on his own, and was padding across a snowy field about two years ago as winter was fading into spring, and he was making for the road to cross it and get back to the woods on the other side. He got a look at me, and abruptly decided he wanted to head back to the woods he'd come from.
I love coyotes. Then again, I don't keep either sheep or chickens.
