Just as well the footing on the trails in the ravine are in excellent condition today. Yesterday, we'd been plodding through newfallen snow during our afternoon hike and I realized one of the sets of cleats on my boots was missing, when we reached street level. This type that is comprised of rubber strapping with metal points inserted are stretched and pulled over boots. They're more comfortable to wear, lighter and with a good grip on ice than our older, rigid-platformed sets.

So although at times they tend to slip off, we decided to keep using them. On some days when the snow seems to grip them and you can actually feel they're being suctioned off, it's a real nuisance to keep refitting and readjusting them. But usually when they're on the verge of falling off, though the toe straps fit snugly and broadly and the heel fitting seems really firm when we set off, I can feel the impending collapse and immediately stop to pull them back on.

It was really icy-cold yesterday; with the penetrating wind factor it was around -16C, and new snow cushioned the grip of the cleats over the boots, so that may have factored into the fact that I was halfway down the street returning home when I recognized that one boot was without the cleats. I do look down at them from time to time to make certain they're still in place, while trekking through the forest trails, so I had no idea when it had occurred, though I briefly retraced my steps up the street toward the ravine entrance.

When we set out this afternoon for our usual hike with Jackie and Jillie I thought it likely that someone might have found the contraption and hung it on a bare branch as often happens. People often drop and lose things, and hiking etiquette demands the courtesy of placing any lost object in a prominent spot easily seen by anyone passing by. Alternately I thought it might have been undiscovered and I would come across it on today's  tramp through the woods, still lying where it had fallen. A few times I thought I'd seen it up ahead, but it turned out to be dead wood partially covered by new snow. I'll have to revert to the old ones, I suppose.

There we were, Jackie and Jillie small as they are, yet mighty powerful, pulling us along an upper trail, he on a short leash to give me better control over his gad-about mannerisms, and she on a retractable leash, since she tends to walk more sensibly on leash than her brother. They both go berserk, regardless, when they sense other dogs approaching, though.

And two dogs they're familiar with did come along. With them a fellow hiker whose house is a block of several streets distant from our own, and whose backyard backs onto the ravine. He told us that whenever coyotes are close by, his two dogs turn suddenly still, then rush over to a window to look out over the backyard, sensing the presence of coyotes. That little ritual alerts him to the near presence of coyotes and he ambles over to the same window and sometimes spots them. Last night, he said, he heard them loud and clear, yipping just beyond his fence, their chorus slowly becoming fainter as they gradually moved off.

His two dogs, about four times larger than ours, don't cause him much concern, he said. His experience has been that the coyotes tend to be skittish, to turn away and trot off when they're confronted.  Besides which, he feels he couldn't possibly constrain one of his dogs, a happy-go-lucky and extremely energetic Border Collie. Of course that's how we feel about Jackie, but we have the added concern of his petite size, a mere mouthful for a hungry coyote, whom our friend assured us tend to be quite a bit taller than his two.

So, we'll have to endure and accept the situation for what it is, that the coyotes we'd long known to be living in the ravine have substantially increased in numbers, and have become far bolder, venturing out now not only in the dark and twilit hours, but during daytime. It is a dilemma, to be sure. But we're not quite certain that any explanation of our devising would satisfy Jackie and Jillie that it's with their best interests in mind, as well as our peace of mind, that their former free reign is now restricted.