There is little resemblance today to the climate we've encountered the past week. The overnight temperature didn't plunge to freezing. And the day dawned clear and bright. There are light skeins of white clouds here and there, merely decorative against the overall light blue of the sky, like the far-off sails of an armada of little boats floating on a vast blue sea.

And when we dressed to go out for our usual ravine walk, we put on light jackets, not the heavier winter jackets the icy cold wind has forced us to adapt to. No mittens, no ear-muffs, no shivering.

And the bonus is that I was able to manipulate the bag of peanuts we daily take along far less clumsily than when my fingers are covered with cold-banishing wool. Though truth to tell, it was so cold up until a day ago that even with two layers on my hands the icy wind penetrated my digits, freezing their tips throughout our hour-long woodland ramble. The peanuts, however, got properly distributed.

Today when we descended our first long hill into the ravine we were mildly surprised to note that the creek, like yesterday, was still running full with muddy water, very much the way it appears at spring run-off. And that would be because of the days-long rains we experienced, along with wet snow, with the cold intense enough to freeze all that wetness into the newly rock-hard ground. When the weather turned milder starting yesterday, the ground had thawed, releasing all the frozen water, which ran downhill into the creek and began the run-off -- water wide and rushing madly off in the direction of the Ottawa River.

This was also a day of frenetic activity for the ravine's squirrel population, although it's been that way for the past several weeks. Today too, the crows were alerted to our presence and they too followed us intensely. They're as avid to collect the peanuts we leave behind as the squirrels are anxious to claim them and store them away for the winter months when they semi-hibernate.

We've noted that the squirrels simply ignore the presence of the crows. The crows seem to restrain themselves in the presence of squirrels. They stand back as it were, and permit the squirrels first dibs at the peanut caches. They aren't exactly depriving themselves since there is always more than enough to go around. And while we've never seen a crow aggressively competing with a squirrel over peanuts, we have seen crows becoming quite exercised with one another over competition for a single peanut.

As occasionally occurs, a family of crows, obviously resident in the ravine, and obviously familiar with our routine, followed us today throughout out walk. They knew each one of the many places where we deposit peanuts, sometimes flapping along just as we were in the process of filling up crevices in old tree trunks, and sometimes sitting patiently on branches above the very trees where we are wont to leave the peanuts, awaiting our arrival.

In fact, emulating the very activity of the squirrels. Which also anticipate our arrival and scurry from one place to another, to see if any have yet been left, and when they discover an empty cache, many of them scramble hurriedly to confront us on the trails, hesitatingly locking eyes with us and waiting for us to react, very prepared to react themselves as we toss them choice larger, three-chambered peanuts.

I wonder if they can count?