Gerry
03-18-2008, 12:31 PM
As we go for a walk up the hill this crisp March morning the last thing I heard on the radio was a warning that the local police were hunting a large wild black cat thought to be a panther. Great news I thought as I headed up into the hills covered by woods bordering the meadows full of sheep and young lambs.
The sun is shining brightly but the overnight frost has been hard to shift and every lung full of that crisp mountain air hurts as I gulp it in. At least the steady flow of water that has been running down the stony path for so many days has finally eased and my feet have stayed dry until I get to the old wood.
One look at the sun glinting of the moss covered ground warns me that those days of heavy rain have made it a no go area and I change direction and walk along the ridge path. Toby doesn't look very happy at not getting to dive into all those muddy puddles and roll with glee until his sleek shiny black coat turns a chocolate brown fudge consistency.
I get home sooner than usual,dry and in one piece, but the thought of the big wild animal had no influence on me not going into the wood that was his perfect stalking ground for tiny dogs and unarmed walkers.
By Gerry Temple
Copyright March 2008
The sun is shining brightly but the overnight frost has been hard to shift and every lung full of that crisp mountain air hurts as I gulp it in. At least the steady flow of water that has been running down the stony path for so many days has finally eased and my feet have stayed dry until I get to the old wood.
One look at the sun glinting of the moss covered ground warns me that those days of heavy rain have made it a no go area and I change direction and walk along the ridge path. Toby doesn't look very happy at not getting to dive into all those muddy puddles and roll with glee until his sleek shiny black coat turns a chocolate brown fudge consistency.
I get home sooner than usual,dry and in one piece, but the thought of the big wild animal had no influence on me not going into the wood that was his perfect stalking ground for tiny dogs and unarmed walkers.
By Gerry Temple
Copyright March 2008