He could be typecast as the perfect villain in those old silent movies that portrayed sinister figures of evil intent on dastardly plotting to destroy the lives of total innocents. He had that perfect appearance. Of a dark, brooding visage, hooded eyes, pinched features and a cruel mouth that looked as though it had never cracked a friendly smile. We see him very occasionally walking two small overweight pugs in the ravine. And it's true we've never seen him smile; it turns into a grimace, a rictus of a smile, as though it's painful to execute.

He was originally from Montreal, a long-distance semi-trailer driver for many years And then in the late '70s he moved to Ottawa and bought a farm and became, of all things a pig farmer. Not quite certain what drove him to it, he just thought he'd give it a try. And he tried for 30 years, was moderately successful and loved it, he said. Until he sold the farm and retired. Now he takes his days as they come, one at a time. A very nice man, in fact. Looks can indeed be deceiving.

That was yesterday, during our trail walk, a lovely day of clear skies and light breezes, warmer than it's been for weeks, perhaps the entire month of August.

We also came across a woman walking with a friend, whom we've also seen only on the rarest of occasions. Her husband is off to the Grand Canyon, for a walking/climbing tour. We used to see him infrequently over the years, but on a regular basis. He's retired too. They used to have two Shih Tzu dogs, one larger than the other. The larger one terrorized the smaller one, made its life utterly miserable and there didn't seem to be anything they could do about it. They were fond of both dogs, even the ill-tempered one, but when the dogs reached old age and the larger one became ill, they decided not to have it treated, and had it put down. To give the smaller one the opportunity to enjoy life without its tormentor, for however long it had to live.

The small one is gone now, too. So her husband felt free to travel. He told us how much he had 'trained' in the ravine for the arduous treks before him, but he was determined to see the Grand Canyon and explore it as much as he could. Yesterday his wife said she was expecting him back home imminently. Earlier, he had confided in us, once he got a bit of travelling in, they might consider adopting another dog, an older one, from a shelter, he said, to give it a chance at a pleasant life before it too moved on.

There are unmistakable signs everywhere of impending fall, despite the glorious weather we've been enjoying. Small trees are turning the colours of autumn. In yesterday's breeze, foliage that had dried up on deciduous branches were tumbling down in the wind, not in great numbers but descending anyway. Finally, fungi are beginning to pop up everywhere on the forest floor.

And certain of the underbrush are beginning to turn from green to yellow. There's always something new to discover.

We see where squirrels have been disassembling pine cones searching for the seeds; litters of discarded cones appear here and there; the forest is the pantry of its wildlife.