Deliverance at last from the malevolent threat inherent in icy trails, to our great relief. Night before last there was a light snowfall, followed by ice pellets which eventually became rain as the morning wore on. Added to that little bonus was the face that the temperature rose from -16C to 6C by mid-afternoon. No boots for Jackie and Jillie yesterday!

Less fuss, far less, in getting prepared to forge out into the woods. And when we did venture out it was to find our driveway crusted with ice and slippery, hence the continued need for cleats. But strangely enough, the road was nowhere near as icily-dangerous as it has been for the past week. Enough of a fine crust over the sheer ice to give a modicum of reassuring traction.

There was another difference made abundantly clear as we looked off into the distance. Mist had resulted from all those alternating atmospheric conditions and a winter fog had settled in; light and diaphanous and mysterious. All the more so once we delved into the forest.

An otherworldly quality seems to be emphasized in those conditions, inexpressibly lovely and with just a hint of the unknown lurking behind it. And then, as we progressed along the trails, comfortable in the milder temperature prevailing, we became aware of a light rain descending and gradually picking up pace, but never to the point of achieving a disturbing presence.

Good thing, the thought went instantaneously through our minds, that Jackie and Jillie were wearing their winter raincoats. I'd brought out their fluffy winter jackets and my husband substituted them for the raincoats before we dressed them for the outing, and a good thing that was, too.

There was nothing uncomfortable about the rain; we were well shielded both from the cold and the rain since our winter jackets are fairly impervious to both. So we had no hesitation about embarking on a good, long walk. One of assurance of balance, furthermore, since the snow, pellets and freezing rain of the night before had ensured that an ice-covering crust had been laid down on the forest floor making the trails more than passably footing-secure.

That, in and of itself, made a colossal difference. Where in days past, we found it necessary to bypass the trails altogether in favour of delving off-trail into the woods to thread our way through safely where there was crusted snow to tread on with the comfort of knowing it offered stability unlike the iced-over trail we had abandoned, it all made for a far more enjoyable hike.

Ascents we had detoured around, taking alternate trails to avoid the steep inclines and with them the potential of slipping, sliding and falling to a thump, were now readily accessible. Which made for a leisurely tromp through the woods, giving us ample opportunity to appreciate the misted beauty of the snow ornamenting the trees as we took our time and completed our favourite long loop through the woods.

There weren't very many people out besides ourselves, only one young man we see on occasion out walking his mother's bouncy little miniature Apricot poodle, Max, the most energetic little dog imaginable with a true sense of mischief as well as enterprise, since in his love of life and adventure little Max has learned to entertain himself and yesterday he did so with a frozen apple from one of the wild apple trees, tossing it into the air repeatedly and chasing after it as it rolled downhill -- to retrieve and repeat.

On days as cold as yesterday when the high for the day reached -8C, the forest floor was frozen solid, and the surrounding forest trees were still outlined with the remnants of the last snowfall, the landscape is inexpressibly beautiful.

Mind, there was a cutting wind to complement the cold. And despite that we were, we three and our two little dogs, dressed for the weather, the icy cold did wrap its fingers around our exposed faces and nipped as well into our vulnerable fingers, mitten-clad or not.

There were no complaints from Jackie and Jillie, they were too busy as usual exploring the milieu surrounding them. One they are intimately familiar with, so much so that Jillie trotted confidently ahead as usual and then got left behind when we decided to take one of those trails we don't often veer onto.

From above, on that alternate trail, we were very aware of her puzzled barking as though to say 'where are you all, where did you go to?' to which we responded, 'up here, Jillie' and lickety-split she tripped the Light Fantastic to rejoin us. Usually when she hurries ahead like that she also looks back from time to time to ensure that we're still in sight. She missed that assurance this time around.

And turning off onto an unfamiliar trail also provides a bit of a perk for them since though they may have been there before on a few occasions, those were still rare occasions. So this gave them the opportunity to re-acquaint themselves to a less-travelled route. Which Jackie, our little explorer, took full and immediate advantage of, while his sister confined herself to the straight-and-narrow, remaining on the trail, but hurrying ahead though her brother forged his way through the forest alongside the trail.

We took that alternate to avoid a double hill requiring two ascents and a questionable descent between them -- which becomes reversed when travelling in the opposite direction. That was our choice yesterday in a bid to avoid some fancy footwork on the icy trails. As it was, we were unable to avoid many of those long, icy patches, and took to winding our way among the trees, off the trail rather than risk what seemed inevitable; another slide and fall.

It worked rather well, for the most part. And there was the additional advantage of having to exert more energy as a result of those alternate avenues the weather conditions forced upon us, since exerting more energy also keeps one warmer.

And despite the concern over the wicked trail conditions there are plenty of areas that are flat, so the ice there doesn't pose that much of a risk, before being confronted yet again with an ascent or descent. As far as Jackie and Jillie are concerned, there's not much difference in the terrain; they happily tackle all conditions. Little Riley used to be terrified of icy conditions and we had to lift him until the way became decently approachable again; not these two.

I'll tell you how badly we need snow to cover the icy conditions we've been left with on the ground after freeze-and-thaw cycles following rain events when snow should have been falling but failed to. On our way up the street to gain the entrance to the ravine early this afternoon, although I was wearing my cleats firmly strapped over my boots, I nonetheless slipped sideways on the road ice, thick and uneven, and fell with a resounding thud. You know the kind of sound you make when people beside you wince because the sound quite equals the force with which your unready body hits the ground? That kind.

Our son, right at my side, hauled me to my feet, while his father frantically asked if I was all right. Of course I was, and on we went to reach the ravine entrance and beyond into the forest. There, we discovered that the trails, if anything, were even worse than they'd been in the previous days while we were awaiting a snow cover to reduce the danger of slipping. Needless to say we all proceeded with the required caution. We took a particularly long circuit, despite the icy conditions. Our son refused to wear cleats and he managed as he always does, with his long and intimate familiarity with the out-of-doors and its seasonal challenges.

Jackie and Jillie experienced no problems, and with their little rubber booties they booted it right along, scampering here and there in a display of exuberant pleasure at just being there, on the trails, Jillie zipping straight ahead and Jackie meandering swiftly off trail into the thick of the underbrush on the forest trails; so many irresistible fragrances to discover....

As it happened, it was in very fact, snowing. The forecast had been for morning flurries, but we discovered those flurries had decided to stick around and they kept coming down throughout the afternoon, sometimes heavily, at other times more lightly, but regardless we were grateful. We will, however, need a lot more than mere flurries however fluffy and beautiful to behold, to make a difference in the situation we're facing of such icy surfaces everywhere.

We took our time, our son slowing his usual pace considerably to accommodate our more cautious and necessarily slower one. The ascents and descents were nothing short of demanding physically and auguring problems if care were not taken adequately, so we obeyed that imperative in the best interests of remaining upright and in control.

We went out to do our usual weekly grocery shopping afterward. Since it's Boxing Day and people are lured to all the sales advertising, we anticipated the supermarket would be relatively becalmed and it was. After we'd gathered everything we thought we would need for the week, paid and left our weekly deposit of imperishable foods in the large Food Bank container, we got everything into the trunk of the car and then it was that I remembered I'd forgotten a key ingredient for the casserole I was planning to make for tonight's dinner.

Back we went and I hurriedly picked up three good-sized zucchini, made my way to the cashiers and there were but two open as a reflection of how quiet the store was with far fewer shoppers than would be the norm. Just as I was making my way to the one Express cash open to be the fourth in line, a burly young man with a half-full shopping cart made a dash to cut me off, and there I was, three zucchini in hand.

I moved over to the only other cash open and there was a modest line-up, the last was an elderly couple with a half-full shopping cart. The cashier speedily processed the few people with their few purchases and then came the half-full cart, and I asked if the couple in front of me wouldn't mind if I went before them since I had only 'one' item to go through the cash, and they beamed in unison and graciously invited me to precede them.

I can recall only one winter when Christmas arrived here in Ottawa and there was no snow in sight. An anomaly that has never repeated itself, in our memory. That must have been several decades back. Weather conditions are so unpredictable here in the nation's capital, that anything is possible. We've been ricocheting back and forth between icy and moderated temperatures this winter, with consequent snow on the one hand and copious amounts of rain on the other.

We'd have acquired quite the accumulated snowpack had those rain events when the temperature rose above freezing, been just a tad colder and snow had fallen rather than rain. The 36-hour rain event we experienced just a few days back played havoc on the considerable snowpack that we had acquired, and that, just a few days from Christmas. Since then, nature has taken pity on us and arranged for several subsequent days of light flurries, just enough to cover the ground and make everything look as it should for the arrival of Christmas.

In the ravine it's meant that some of the snowpack has been much reduced, and where firm footing could be guaranteed on the trails, that has been replaced by thick layers of ice resulting from the combination of rain followed by quick-freeze events, making it absolutely mandatory to take care negotiating the ascents and descents, even with cleats strapped firmly on our boots.

Back when I used to make our own boots for our little dogs those icy conditions created a dilemma because I'd sewn the boots with leather bottoms and fleecy uppers; the leather, freezing in the extreme cold gave insufficient traction to their little paws. Now, with the use of these commercial, inexpensive and insubstantial-looking but surprisingly effective little all-rubber booties, Jackie and Jillie move about with great confident alacrity, the rubber nicely giving grip on the ice.

Yesterday, a fresh sprinkling of snow offered a sparkling quality to the landscape which we very much appreciated. The high for the day was -7C with few wind gusts -- also very much appreciated -- and though mostly overcast, the early-setting sun cast a lovely glow over the horizon, seen through the bared trees at some vantage points in the forest, the sun sitting low as it does now in the winter sky.

Jackie and Jillie, as always, were on the lookout for any of their friends happening to stroll by; although they pick up scent long before any others come into view. Usually they're most inclined when they're on high ground, to view trails below to pick up movement and scent. Their vigilance is rewarded, for the most part, and yesterday was no exception, though we came across only several other people walking their companion dogs.

Jackie bursts often into exuberant and flashy dashes back and forth between where we are at any given point on the trails, following them, and the stretch he reaches by romping gaily ahead of us. Jillie is more reserved, but when she goes on too far ahead and we have trouble seeing where she is, an urgent call-back proves she can run as fleet as the wind to rejoin us, just like her brother.

They're happy to be out ambling about in the woods along the forest trails and so are we. It completes and gives quality value to our days that nothing else can quite compete with, for all of us.

One of the print newspapers we read daily in our home featured a Nativity-themed stained glass window that a Quebec church commissioned following the Second World War. It is a work of art that was designed and executed by an Italian immigrant to Canada. A trained artist with an extensive art background in Europe, he came to Canada to study under a widely-respected Italian master-craftsman known for the quality of his stained glass murals.

When the Second World War broke out the government of the day in Canada decided that some Canadian citizens of European and Japanese extraction were not merely Canadians like any other but in fact "enemy aliens" and decided to assemble them and intern them in what can only be referred to as 'prisoner-of-war detection camps', in some instances incarcerating whole families, in others separating men from their families, leaving women and children destitute, confiscating properties as due punishment and humiliating Canadian citizens for no other reason than their ethnic heritage. This, in a country built on immigration from all corners of the world.

Vitrail de Vincenzo Poggi Stained glass

The windows that this man, Vincenzo Poggi, produced, are acknowledged for their beauty, colour and vivacious vision of humanity and religious devotion. After his release from the 'concentration camp' that he and his fellows were confined in for the duration of the war, he quietly resumed a normal life in Canada, never addressed the period in his life when he was under suspicion and confined from general society, and took up once again his profession as an artist.

He is long dead; his art endures. And so does Canada's shame.

When I was a child I recall visiting a house next to where my parents rented an upstairs flat in another house on Manning Avenue in Toronto. There, an Italian family lived. It was where I was first confronted with the magic of a Christmas tree in full-lit splendour. It was where I saw an old, very old woman in a rocking chair knitting, knitting, knitting. She was aiding the Canadian war effort, knitting copious numbers of khaki-wool caps, mittens and scarves. Beside her was a large carboard box filled to overflowing with her product.

As a Jewish child I was mesmerized by the fantasy of Christmas exemplified by the gorgeously-dressed automatons in Christmas scenes that blazed in full light and colour and action in store-front windows of department stores like Eaton's and Simpson's. Those stores devoted several floors in their retail businesses to displays of Christmas in vintage form, replete with angels, Santa-elf-helpers, endless snowy Christmas landscapes and lavishly-festooned trees. It was a winter wonderland of the highest, imaginatively creative order.

I never sat on Santa's lap, but our three children did once, when they were young, all three grouped around Santa, the youngest on his lap.

Famously, during the First World War, German and French combatants came out of their trenches in a shared moment of Christmas nostalgia and goodwill, to celebrate Christmas together for that one, singualr day. In Canada, during the Second World War, Canadian citizens deemed 'enemy aliens' languished in concentration camps on Christmas Day.

Vitrail de Vincenzo Poggi Stained glass

Rain was copious and incessant beginning the night before on into the morning hours, extending to the afternoon, then the evening and the following night. That was yesterday. Precipitation that was continuous and fell in the form of rain because the temperature rose to a surprising 6C. That much rain has quite an impact on the snowpack in this region understandably, and we could see it melting away.

It also meant that with the volume of rain that was coming down there was no sensible way we could enter the ravine for our daily walk in the woods even with raingear, and in the process, keep reasonably dry. Certainly not for our little dogs. So we stayed home. Not so awful, one day without a walk. But it doesn't feel right. And we impute that event to Jackie's refusal to eat breakfast this morning.

When we came down for breakfast, however what a sight met our eyes! Snow, glorious snow. The overnight rain had gradually been transformed to snow as the temperature dropped. So that by morning everything was once again covered with a nice, albeit not thick, layer of snow. It looked wonderful. And allayed our fears of a completely iced-over ravine.

By the time we did get out and into the ravine later on, it still wasn't dreadfully cold, at -2C, but there was a harsh, cutting wind that had brought down quite a bit of woody detritus from the forest canopy over the course of yesterday. Imagine, the first official calendar day of the winter equinox's arrival and instead of snow we got rain. Just as well it was the shortest day of the year.

We were heartened to view a mini-wonderland surrounding us; not as voluptuously laden with snow as would occur with a really good snowstorm but passable. So we were all happy to plunge into the ravine and set out on a pleasant and beautiful-to-observe winter walk in the woods.

The creek and all its tributaries had been freed of ice given that unusual weather and were fast running. The trails had a light layer of snow over the ice-thickened floor that yesterday's rain had left but our cleats guaranteed a good grip, though we could see the slipping and sliding that complicated the passage of several hikers who had been out before us.

Protected in the ravine from the wind and with the temperature hovering a mite under -2C, it was more than comfortable striding along the forest trails, admiring the short-range landscapes and in areas where sightlines are more distant, the larger landscapes that presented themselves. Given that this is the last week-end for Christmas shopping, we saw a fair number of others out on the trails with their dogs. Everyone cheerful and calling out 'Merry Christmas!' to one another.

My husband got unaccountably stuck in the stacks yesterday. He'd set out on one of those routine trips in the neighbourhood to make a number of stops; the bank, a local hardware store, a supermarket and the public library. It was at the library that he discovered on this occasion he would be unable to complete the mission that sent him out to take care of a number of routine things, for he became a victim of sorts of a garrulous old man.

Men tend to think of women as being overly verbose and talkative, but something happens to many men as they age, and age, and age; they too become verbose and overly-talkative. My husband is open to discussions with strangers. He's a friendly man and when people show an inclination to speak with one another he's obliging enough. That's how this encounter started out when a very large, robust man approached him at the library while my husband prepared to carry out the function of his trip there. In the end, he came home empty-handed only to embark once again this morning to come back with several books and videos on loan.

The intent old man hulked over my husband in an intimidating manner, but that was just his manner, enough to make anyone uncomfortable in such a situation. He wanted to expound on his detestation of Canada's prime minister and nothing and no one would dare to interrupt as he foamed and frothed with indignation and deep dislike over this current Canadian leader's inept and disastrous effect on society, the economy and international relations.

He had a sympathetic ear in my husband initially, but the sympathy ebbed away as he felt obliged to listen to a tirade that simply became excessive and tiresome. My husband kept trying to diplomatically excuse himself, to no avail. It was as though magnetism drew this fellow to my husband to enable him to spout his venomous hatred for a man many Canadians hold in scant regard. In any event, by the time my husband returned home it was later than we had anticipated, so our afternoon walk in the ravine was consequently later than usual.

But off we set, after three in the afternoon knowing that dusk was waiting in the wings on the penultimate shortest day of the year and sure enough before we had exited from our circuit the aura of dusk had appeared. Before it did, though, we came across a number of ravine-hiking acquaintances and their dogs, and Jackie and Jillie had an uproariously joyous time of it, meeting up with their friends and indulging in a bit of a romp.

The day had been sunny and bright and fairly mild until early afternoon, so that by the time we eventually ventured out clouds had moved in to add to the dim lighting effect. But it was mild, at -3C and barely a whisper of wind, so striding about on the forest trails was quite comfortable. We're overdue for snow. The snow that had accumulated from mid-November forward was substantial but those early days of sub-zero temperatures have since succumbed to intermittent days of milder temperatures which first turned the snowpack to ice, then began to melt it.

Today? No ravine walk. Rain began in the early morning hours and has continued throughout the day. We can see the snow steadily receding, a gloomy prospect for people looking forward to the beauty of fresh snow mantling the ground for Christmas.

We live each day as it comes since it is an inevitable process during which we view each succeeding day with curiosity: what will it bring? For young people each day should be an exploration of the world surrounding them, for older people it's delight in small revelations that make each day special. We are constantly evolving into our older, more mature, experienced selves.

For some individuals this is never enough and what some view as opportunity to take what we can from seemingly pedestrian experiences, others reject and avidly seek more exciting exposure to opportunities that will draw them away from the ordinary. There are countless examples, from young people in the West travelling East to teach English as a second language, to committed hikers and bikers taking their passion to unfamiliar geological locations that offer physical and experiential challenges.

We see the evolution of time and the maturity of all living things throughout our daily lives, if we should care to notice them. From marvelling at the size a tree attains that was planted a decade earlier, to missing a companion animal that outlived its lifespan, and welcoming a successor to fill the void left by the missing companion's absence.

As we trek daily, my husband and I and our two little dogs, through the ravine that bisects our community, taking various forest trails through thickets of trees we sometimes recall what that wildlife haven looked like three decades ago when we were first introduced to its presence. During that time we have been privileged to know many other people who value this priceless natural treasure. We have also met their beloved family pets as they companion them through the trails. And mourn with them the best we can when those companions languish from old age into death.

We will never ourselves forget the companionship of our first two little dogs, now gone. Their absence from our lives was emotionally devastating. It tends to be on a greater-or-lesser scale for most people who have grown emotionally attached to animals in their intimate lives whose intelligence and love that we share are so intensely valued.

Our emotional ties to our companion-pet intimates become so tight we feel instant empathy with all other non-human creatures, realizing and understanding through more acute observation what they are capable of feeling themselves. Iit does harm to our sense of well-being when we see an animal mistreated. And it touches us to the core when we see another creature brought into the world to begin anew the natural process of exploring their world, familiarizing themselves with boundaries and enjoying life.

Yesterday, during our ravine walk in the forest with Jackie and Jillie we came across one such little creature, a six-month-old little Cocker Spaniel, hesitant at first, overwhelmed by the too-close physical attention Jackie and Jillie were giving him, then increasingly confident, enough so to do to them precisely what they were exposing him too; the usual sniff-fest that gives dogs the opportunity to become familiar with one another's distinguishing scents, the process of socialization.

Cold it most certainly was, at -7C with a stiff wind when we set out for the ravine yesterday afternoon. The wind was brisk and the air icy so even walking the short distance up our street to access the entrance to the ravine and the forest beyond we felt our faces constantly whipped by the wind. The street underfoot is unevenly thick with ice, so that even there our cleats strapped over our winter boots are needed for good footing.

But the sun was out in a clear, blue sky and if not for the wind the cold would have felt passable. Entering the ravine and descending the first long slope into the forest does gain us shelter, however. The howl of the wind can still be heard up hill in the forest canopy, but its physical effects toward the forest floor become quite muted. In the thick of the forest the wind's effect is far less palpable, although the accumulated snowpack does have its own effect, radiating upward its own cold to join that of the ambient atmosphere. So a cold day it certainly was, one warranting boots for Jackie and Jillie.

We're glad we discovered those tiny rubber boots, they make all the difference in comfort for our little dogs. Not as difficult, though still picky to draw onto their little paws, they're far more effective than the expensive, 'especially engineered' and expensive boots we had been using, in a futile effort to keep their paws protected. On occasion during the coldest and underfoot-iciest times of the winter we do on occasion come across bloodied paw tracks of dogs, the obvious result of ice-sliced pads. Moreover, salt on the roads meant to melt ice also plays havoc on the feet of dogs. When they pick up salt and then walk on the icy trails they suffer excruciating pain from the double effect of freezing paws.

So when we go out with our two little fellows in such cold weather we're grateful for the protective qualities of the boots that never, ever fall off as the others were frustratingly wont to do. And attempting to replace fallen boots on shivering little paws with bare hands in sub-zero temperature isn't a whole lot of fun for dog or human.

We were a little earlier out than usual and came across quite a number of people out with their dogs, among them Rob and Nova, a pure white German Shepherd, not yet a year old. He becomes so excited to see his friends, he races toward us but even at his age is careful to avoid a collision; obviously aware of his own muscular strength and that cannot be said for all large dogs. He tends to circle us, nuzzle our hands, sniff Jackie and Jillie vigorously while they complain, then they do the same to him.

Rob told us that the day before when Nova had come across dogs he was familiar with, he simply forgot who he was supposed to be walking with, and remained with the other dogs. Rob went through his usual circuit, looking anxiously for Nova, calling for him, but there was no response. He ended up at one point walking with Barrie, with his three well-trained Border Collies none of which would ever stray far, hoping that their presence would entice Nova to return, but no luck.

Eventually, before reaching the end of his circuit he came across another acquaintance and when he asked whether she'd seen Nova, she said not only had she seen him unaccompanied but she took him back home and left the dog with Rob's wife. Disbelieving, when he returned home, Nova tried to convey to him his eagerness to return to the ravine for another walk, instantly. A request Rob chose to ignore.

So yesterday Rob was in two moods; incredulously laughing at Nova's lack of discipline which he also, though unmentioned, interprets as wavering loyalty, and simmering low-grade anger with Nova for failing to respond quickly and positively when he's called. Several times Rob put Nova on leash to try to convey his displeasure at just that kind of repeated behaviour.

And every time, after we'd parted, that Nova suddenly appeared on the trail we happened to be hiking across at a few points without Rob in sight, we greeted him but also urged him to return to Rob, which, like the good puppy he is, he did.

We were later than usual getting out for our afternoon walk with Jackie and Jillie. An overcast day, it had been snowing all morning in great puffy bursts of snowfall. That changed to volumes of light, continuous snow for a bit in the early afternoon. Despite which those earlier robust flurries appeared not to have made much of an aggregate appearance on the ground.

For one thing, the temperature had soared again to the freezing point. For another it was windy with gusts up to 50 kph, dissipating the snow accumulations and in some instances actually melting it. Mild enough that our puppies had no need of their boots, and a light winter coat was all that was required, so dressing them for their walk presented no time issue.

The snow that had fallen was interpreted somewhat differently on the forest floor. Though hardly voluminous it represented a fairly decent cover for the ice that has dominated the trails lately. On the other hand, the wind had done quick work of the snow that fell onto tree branches, clearing it completely, denying us the beautiful sight of snow-limned trees and shrubs in the forest understory.

Jackie is never deterred in his forays through the forest, and no reason to be yesterday, as he made off for his usual spots off-trail to sniff about the forest floor, discovering as a reward things we will never be made privy to, but obviously satisfying his sense of adventure, one not quite shared by his sister. She, on the other hand, mostly remains on the trails, ever on the lookout for others doing the same; determined to intercept the passage of others, her vetting giving them permission to proceed on 'her' territory.

We first came across two middling-sized hounds, one on-leash, the other, smaller one free to roam and who wanted to play, only to be greeted by the shrill barks of our two inveterate ravine caretakers. They did, in the end, have a short romp together, before the others continued on their way and we prepared to take an alternate route that would take us on a longer circuit.

At that point we were at the top of one of the many hills in the ravine with sightlines down to one of the bridges fording the main creek, and we watched as a bull mastiff made his speedy way up to where we stood. We've seen him before, in the company of a black part-Great Dane, and eventually their human companion catches up, long after they've more or less surrounded us with their considerable size and weight. At our initial meeting their powerful presence struck fear into Jackie and Jillie, mostly because the large dogs are curious and get up very close and personal to anyone they encounter.

They're quite distant from any kind of control of their walker, a young man who seems to take no interest in knowing what they may be about, obviously reasoning that anyone out there can look after themselves. The bull mastiff elicited no great alarm in our pups on this occasion but wanted my husband to take note of his presence; he's an emotionally needy animal and likes to be petted and spoken to.

I could feel the great tail slamming behind me back and forth on my hips, moved aside, reached for my camera, began to turn to face my husband and the beast, and the next thing I knew was an embrace of the forest floor. I was wearing cleats, I am firmly acquainted with the condition of the trails in winter and though a slight figure am confident on my legs despite my age. The dog had simply moved into the vacuum I had created and his muscular back end proved too much for my own sturdy balance. When I fell the feeling when my body hit the forest floor was one of comfortable recline, so no harm done.

When the young man did catch up he happily informed us that the black dog which had arrived in his presence, had just delivered six pups a week earlier and we could see her swollen, extended dugs. It was obvious who the sire was since neither of the dogs have ever been neutered. Eventually they went on in the same direction as ourselves, but at a considerably speedier pace.

And then we came across a long-time ravine-hiking friend, another young man with his two little terriers, now getting on in age, but as spunky as ever, so Jackie and Jillie had two little friends more akin to their own size to communicate with, paying no heed to us as we spoke in an admiring trio of the lean muscularity of such large and powerful dogs and our friend showed us the latest photographs of coyotes beyond his backyard fence. He's a fireman, and he described how, on the occasional early-morning call he'll set out to the fire hall and on the way in the dim early-morning light he will see numerous coyotes prowling the silent roads.

These are larger-than-normal breed coyotes, he explained, the result of ordinary coyotes breeding with grey wolves, their offspring larger, a somewhat different colouration and gradually having become semi-urbanized. He set up an automatic wildlife-tracking camera on his back fence to record such visits then views the results afterward. Quite fascinating.