Because yesterday was a Sunday, our afternoon ravine walk, cold, brisk, windy but sunny, was shared by others from within the community, walking their dogs in a leisurely ambulation. 

Two weeks earlier we had met up with a woman whom we've had an acquaintance with for many years who lives on the street directly behind us.  We've seen her son grow from a gangly pre-teen to a university student.  He would occasionally walk the family dog, a large golden retriever.  Now he is away and she walks the new family dog, a Jack Russell.  When we'd seen her two weeks previously she asked us to be alert for the possible presence of a little cat.  This was their 15-year-old house cat, never permitted outdoors but having, for some odd reason, made a break for freedom, and they were worried about its safety.

We also came across another couple we'd known for ages who used to walk a deaf little dog that would bark incessantly, cute as they come, but since succeeded by two fluffy little dogs of unknown ancestry, but a fortuitous mix, nonetheless.  One of those two little fluffy dogs had succumbed to old age the year before, and now the remaining one shuffles along, overweight, but content to be with those who love it.

They informed us they had word that the pair of owls that have taken to nesting in the ravine every spring are once again at it, and they were intent on taking photos.  We'd ourselves had the good luck to come across the nestling last year when it was just about the size of its parents, close to the creek, sitting in one tree leaning over the water, one of its parents waiting in another, nearby tree.

The woman with the missing cat informed us that yes, a week after it had gone missing, their elderly cat had returned, seemingly well, and they were beside themselves with delight, happy to have it returned to them.  It had just seemed to saunter home on its own.  Three days later, she said, it died, without warning, of kidney failure.  Might the cat have known instinctively that it had little time left to live, and been intent on experiencing freedom before it died?

Later, on the second-half of our loop, we came across the owl-seeking pair and they informed us they had indeed located the new nest; the female owl was sitting on eggs.  Telling us in detail precisely where we could find it, and lamenting that they'd been unable to take pictures because the camera batteries had run out of juice.