There is always the chance that we might come across a close-up view of the very large red-capped Pileated woodpeckers that we hear and see in the distance so often in our ravine forays. We will, on the rare occasion, see the pair close together. It's not hard to tell when they've been around; great piles of wood chips surrounding the base of an old tree, whether dead or still struggling for survival attest to their presence when they're not being sighted.

We once came so close to a Pileated woodpecker, seemingly oblivious of our presence, having a go at one of the trees close by our first long descent leading into the ravine off our street. I cursed myself for not having brought along my trusty little digital camera. That missed opportunity has led me over the years that have since passed, to impulsively grab the camera as we leave the house for our daily peregrinations in the ravine.

Occasionally there are scenes or objects or creatures whose presence take my photographic fancy; more often there are none particularly appealing.

Over the decades I've taken more than enough photographs of bright, colourful fungal formations, birds, squirrels, woodland scenes in all seasons, and wildflowers. I've an excess of them in my ravine-photo inventory. I look for things that are different than what we've already seen and experienced.

Invariably when I have a hunch that this very day there will present to us scenes worthwhile recalling through photographs, we conclude our foray without any results. Leading me to neglect taking the camera along the following days. And inevitably when I haven't the camera with me opportunity for memorable photographs result and I am left frustrated.

Take that day about a week ago when we again came across an older couple with their pet ferret on its slender leash. A lovely little creature, its fur sleek, eyes brightly inquisitive, tiny ears alert, eager to introduce us to his olfactory memory himself. And no camera. Over the years we've come across this little fellow occasionally and I've thought how delightful it would be to take a photo of him -- another opportunity lost.

Angela Guglielmino walks a Ferret on a leash at the San Francisco Zoo on June 13, 2003.

This isn't the little fellow we saw last week, but a reasonable facsimile. The little guy we came across was tinier but this one looks almost as appealing. We listened to its companions describing its lovable personality and its understanding of signals it receives from them. Its habits, inclinations and clever interpretations; open the refrigerator door and he's right there, hoping for some treats.

A few days ago we were halfway through our usual walking circuit on the ravine trails when we heard a distinct but very small yap resembling the sound a minuscule dog might make; familiar to us because our daughter has a teacup-sized Pomeranian. Suddenly, rocketing in a little furry fireball out of the woods came a tiny Yorkie, eager to make our acquaintance, dancing around our feet, leaping up for a little pat and recognition.

Oops, no camera.