It's early days yet in Ottawa, we've had less than twenty confirmed cases of the novel coronavirus to date, but there's a sombre mood everywhere. The few people we come across on our daily tramps through the forest trails don't appear to be too depressed yet, but there's a grimness behind their smiles. Fewer people are coming out, and we believe it's because of the poor hiking conditions with the melting snow and the icy trails, far more than can be attributed to fear of the virus.
Yesterday we met up with an old friend on the upper main trail and he maintained a good distance between us, I'd hazard six feet, so we stood awhile and exchanged personal tales and information, me straining to hear his words. He and his wife had been out on Sunday around two in the afternoon -- a time at least an hour earlier than we generally set out on a Sunday -- and they heard a great racket of crows. Looking up they realized the crows were crowding around an owl perched on a dead branch of a large old pine high above, circling the owl and harassing it.
They went out a day later, he told us, and in the very same spot, they saw what was left of a crow. Owls get very stressed when they're being harassed like that. Crows are scavengers, owls are raptors, they're large and they're strong and they're formidable hunters. I imagine if one gets upset enough it wouldn't take much more to persuade it to attack his persecutors.
When we got up this morning it was heavily overcast, very dark in the house and of course it was raining. Throughout the course of the day we experienced a quick blaze of sun that lightened our mood, but 'quick' is the operative word here; it was soon gone and rain resumed episodically at times so heavily the rain actually pounded on the windows.
The high for the day was the warmest we've had yet, so the snow and ice in the ravine will have been given a real melting boost, and the creek would be swollen and raging downstream. That's an assumption born of experience, but the conditions persuaded us to give our usual hike a pass today. There was plenty to do at home. My husband went down to his workshop to continue work on a stained glass window that will eventually join all the others he has designed and installed over the years.
Jillie is always happy to just lounge about, nap and amuse herself quietly, as long as she feels full, her tastebuds satisfied and her stomach bursting. Her brother is far more restless, he roams about the house endlessly, but spends most of his time at the front door, vetting all the animals that come by for peanuts and bread cubes. He's quiet, watching the red squirrels, but barks furiously at the presence of the grey and black squirrels.
I was busy in the kitchen with food preparations, deciding to bake mocha-chocolate cupcakes as a dessert treat, and to make up a bread dough that I'd refrigerate for later use either for a pizza or to bake croissants. And I did the usual for Friday, put on a chicken soup to simmer until dinnertime. We've been keeping ourselves at home so much this past few weeks that it seemed odd to drive somewhere.
Although we still had enough of Jackie's and Jillie's kibble to last another three weeks, we decided to go out and pick up another bag to last a few months, because the bags are large and they're (the pups) small. A 12 kg bag is over $100, but it lasts a good while. It's quality food for them, sourced from Alberta, no grains, comprised of meats, fish and vegetables. There was a stop at the bank at the ATM machine, and another for gas; we've never seen the price so low. We wore gloves; my husband used a wood dowel to avoid using his hands or gloves at the ATM.
The roads were fairly bare of traffic. A few people were out and about, carrying umbrellas. At the pet store, a very large establishment, there was two store personnel and us; two others had exited before we reached the check-out. There was a sign hung up on various shelves advising customers that the store was placing a limit of two bags for each purchase of dog food and treats. It was clear from the state of the shelves that people have been hoarding dog food, too.
Yesterday we met up with an old friend on the upper main trail and he maintained a good distance between us, I'd hazard six feet, so we stood awhile and exchanged personal tales and information, me straining to hear his words. He and his wife had been out on Sunday around two in the afternoon -- a time at least an hour earlier than we generally set out on a Sunday -- and they heard a great racket of crows. Looking up they realized the crows were crowding around an owl perched on a dead branch of a large old pine high above, circling the owl and harassing it.
They went out a day later, he told us, and in the very same spot, they saw what was left of a crow. Owls get very stressed when they're being harassed like that. Crows are scavengers, owls are raptors, they're large and they're strong and they're formidable hunters. I imagine if one gets upset enough it wouldn't take much more to persuade it to attack his persecutors.
When we got up this morning it was heavily overcast, very dark in the house and of course it was raining. Throughout the course of the day we experienced a quick blaze of sun that lightened our mood, but 'quick' is the operative word here; it was soon gone and rain resumed episodically at times so heavily the rain actually pounded on the windows.
The high for the day was the warmest we've had yet, so the snow and ice in the ravine will have been given a real melting boost, and the creek would be swollen and raging downstream. That's an assumption born of experience, but the conditions persuaded us to give our usual hike a pass today. There was plenty to do at home. My husband went down to his workshop to continue work on a stained glass window that will eventually join all the others he has designed and installed over the years.
Jillie is always happy to just lounge about, nap and amuse herself quietly, as long as she feels full, her tastebuds satisfied and her stomach bursting. Her brother is far more restless, he roams about the house endlessly, but spends most of his time at the front door, vetting all the animals that come by for peanuts and bread cubes. He's quiet, watching the red squirrels, but barks furiously at the presence of the grey and black squirrels.
I was busy in the kitchen with food preparations, deciding to bake mocha-chocolate cupcakes as a dessert treat, and to make up a bread dough that I'd refrigerate for later use either for a pizza or to bake croissants. And I did the usual for Friday, put on a chicken soup to simmer until dinnertime. We've been keeping ourselves at home so much this past few weeks that it seemed odd to drive somewhere.
Although we still had enough of Jackie's and Jillie's kibble to last another three weeks, we decided to go out and pick up another bag to last a few months, because the bags are large and they're (the pups) small. A 12 kg bag is over $100, but it lasts a good while. It's quality food for them, sourced from Alberta, no grains, comprised of meats, fish and vegetables. There was a stop at the bank at the ATM machine, and another for gas; we've never seen the price so low. We wore gloves; my husband used a wood dowel to avoid using his hands or gloves at the ATM.
The roads were fairly bare of traffic. A few people were out and about, carrying umbrellas. At the pet store, a very large establishment, there was two store personnel and us; two others had exited before we reached the check-out. There was a sign hung up on various shelves advising customers that the store was placing a limit of two bags for each purchase of dog food and treats. It was clear from the state of the shelves that people have been hoarding dog food, too.
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