Yet another superb day. Winter, dare we hope, is steadily waning. I know that's precipitate and naive given all my years of experiencing an Ottawa winter. But we can sense spring. We can smell spring. The cardinal singing in the backyard in the morning, can too. There's an air of busyness with the return of migratory birds. One of our friends told us he's seen a Great Blue Heron under one of the bridges in the ravine. Another two informed us that a pair of Wood Ducks appear to be staying along the creek at a far stretch of the forest across a major thoroughway that we don't often traverse.

Jackie and Jillie are feeling a mite stir-crazy, still agitating to get out to the backyard, moping about on the deck when the sun is absent as it was early this morning. Jackie stations himself at the front door looking out at the squirrel activity. And sometimes goes downright berserk with the unfairness of it all. He's stuck in the house on a fabulous 3C day, and there are the squirrels, availing themselves of the peanut-strewn porch as though they're the property owners, and not he and Jillie.

In fact, we did get out to the forest trails a bit earlier than usual today, just shortly after noon. The wind was up, but made little impression on us other than to resemble a fresh spring breeze, given the gentle temperature. Snow is beginning to melt off roofs. And although we can't yet identify any difference in a diminishing snowpack in the ravine, the creek is still running high, though not nearly so much as yesterday when the sun was full out and the thermometer confirmed that we were enjoying a balmy 6C.

We clambered up the first of the hills to the ridge above, after descending our own long hillside into the ravine. Our puppies were practically frothing with excitement. There was an old trail-hiking acquaintance we hadn't seen in ages up on the ridge trail, with his short-haired pointer. Our friend was walking with a stick, his knees giving him problems he explained, and keeping him almost sedentary for far too long.

We chatted awhile, and continued each on our separate ways, but it wasn't long before we came across another friend we haven't seen in a while, with his white German Shepherd, Nova. Nova had punctured one of his paws, it seems, and was kept fairly immobile for 40 days. Nova's always been a rough-and-tumble, curious and energetic dog, it must have been quite awful for him to be restrained while he was in the healing process.

A short while later we bumped into Nova and Rod again this time walking with another friend. Who had her miniature poodle on leash, just the way we now have Jackie and Jillie. Rod that told her that the day before when he'd been out with Nova, a neighbour informed him that looking out from an upper window of his house (both their homes back onto the ravine), he had seen Rod and Nova, and also saw a coyote behind them, stealthily but in full sight tracking their progress, and Rod had been unaware of its presence.

Even Barry, whom we came across soon afterward, is slightly nervous now about the welfare of his three Border Collies, more careful now to keep them in sight. As intelligent dogs they've been trained to listen carefully and immediately recognize and accede to orders. But coyotes are clever and their presence appeals to some dogs as potential playmates whom they appear quite prepared to run after in friendship and trust.

We weren't accompanied by friends the entire circuit through the forest trails. We tend to meet up, then part, and continue on ourselves to other connecting trails. And we noted the presence of American bittersweet berries still on their vines, and wondered why they aren't eaten by birds throughout the winter months, but the berries' bitter flavour is not a hit with most birds.

Last fall's flaming candles of the forest's understory Staghorn sumacs too are in evidence. Their presence is yet another of nature's winter offerings to birds, some of which will, in desperation when food sources are in short supply in mid-winter, eat the not entirely nourishing candles. Valued more for their aesthetic presence perhaps (and of course as seeding bodies) than a reliable food source ... as a last resort.

Today's ramble through the woodland trails presented us with a first type of experience. As we ascended a short hilly trail to round out over the top and gain a main trail, I noticed in the near distance as a woman with a large black dog was attaching its leash to its collar. I should have reined Jackie in, but allowed him as usual to run ahead on the extendable leash, barking as is  his usual mode of greeting. I began to rein in the retractable leash, but not before it had extended far enough for Jackie to reach the strange dog, a standard poodle mix that didn't appear the last bit perturbed by Jackie's near and loud presence.

The quite large and bulky woman, grim-faced, had been carrying a rough stick and she brandished it like a cudgel, aiming for Jackie, but he successfully eluded it. I glared at the woman and asked what was wrong with her? She shouted angrily back at me, what was wrong with me, allowing my violent dog to attack hers? I was flabbergasted.

I told her that she represented a rarity in this community forest. In our 30 years of daily hikes through the forest trails with our dogs, we'd never before come across anyone like her, and since we'd never before encountered her, hoped to never again. My husband was somewhat less circumspect, warning her that if she so much as hit one of our pups she would live to regret it. The woman snarled and threatened him, as we all separated and walked away from one another, imprecations being cast to the winds.

What a truly sad and sorry episode. Encountering someone so hostile and miserable-natured is a kind of first for us. And it made us feel really quite dreadful. Shortly afterward on our return home we left Jackie and Jillie securely at home and went off ourselves to do our weekly food shopping. And there at the supermarket, a young male cashier restored our feelings about the best in people. He was so very sweet natured and took so much care in what he was doing.

Sometimes young female cashiers seem to resent it when we present a shopping bag full of mostly canned food for deposit in the community food bank receptable. They have to retrieve each item from inside the bag, run it through the cash, then pack it all back into the bag so we can deposit it in the in the store's vestibule. We bag these items as we shop to keep them separate from our own take-home items.

This young man did all that graciously, and carefully handled perishable food, arranging items on the moving belt to make it easier for customers to pick up and pack their food items. A willing service a cut above. More akin to our experiences shopping in rural U.S. supermarkets than in urban Ottawa.