July of 2020 is concluding with the same kind of weather intensity the month has awarded us day after day; stifling humidity, overwhelming heat, ample rain events. We've been advised by Environment Canada's senior weather-forecaster that this month will represent a summer period with the hottest consecutive days on record. And that the period has also distinguished itself with a rain deficit. Some of this we can attest to, and part of it seems to belie our experience.

The 40% rain deficit David Philips, chief forecaster speaks of that has left fields and gardens dry has not been what we've been exposed to. We've had so many rain events, so many thunderstorms, overnight rainfalls, early morning rain, late afternoon rain -- and with more than ample sunshine in between - as to render the need to water garden pots and plots unnecessary.

On the other hand, we've also had day after day of stifling, humid heat. Which accounts for our routine-change of necessity; heading out to the ravine for our daily jaunts through forest trails with Jackie and Jillie pre-breakfast rather than waiting for time in the afternoon to devote to our forest rambles. And this morning was no different.

The backyard was still wet from overnight rain, but there was, for a change, no more forecasted for this day. We were presented with a crystalline-clear blue sky, light wind and beaming sun. Since we were out just at 8:00 trundling up the street to the ravine entrance, the sun, though bright and hot, didn't have the opportunity in that brief exposure to persuade us that we had chosen the right time of day.

As soon as the confines of the forest are entered, cool and dark, peace descends. Jackie and Jillie await their usual pre-hike treat and they won't be disappointed, as long as the bounty of thimbleberries ripening on their countless shrubs last. The berries are delicious, sweet and juicy; as good an energy source as any and better than most.

There are shrubs with their ripening fruit growing in many areas along the forest trails. And raspberries are still ripening as well, though there are now fewer of them. There wasn't much of a harvest of wild strawberries earlier in June; some things have thrived others have not. Certainly it's a bumper year for Pilotweed, their bright yellow flowerheads are everywhere, whereas there's a dearth of daisies, buttercups and Queen Anne's lace.

There's also more alfalfa, thistles and Himalayan orchids. And greater swathes of jewelweed alongside the banks of the creek than we've seen in any other year. Along with a complete absence of mullein, where last year and the year before there were so many. On the other hand, fast-growing little fruit-bearing trees like chokecherry and elderberry, as well as sumacs.

Later at home after breakfast I decided to bake a honeycake for dessert. I haven't baked honeycake in ages, and it's one of my husband's favourites; he chose it over chocolate cupcakes, though it took him a few minutes to consider which he'd prefer. I used a coffee grinder to grind up whole almonds and set aside a cup of the ground almonds to use in the cake. Most of it went into the batter, but I also dusted the cake pan with ground almonds in lieu of icing. 

Then and now. What a sheltered life we live. With all its complications life here where we are is simple though it most definitely is not for other people living elsewhere in a world of mass upheaval. For those people living through the trauma of war and tragedy, areas of the world where disease and exploitation by their governments, neglect and privation take their toll, life is anything but simple; it is a challenge to survive. News reports of events taking place elsewhere on the globe keeps us informed and even at times incredulous that violent strife and existential threats must be faced by others, while our lives proceed along a circumscribed path of peace and stability. Reminding us of our good fortune in living in a country like Canada with its enormous geography and vast natural resources.

Bedtime reading has me lately fascinated by accounts written 550 years ago throughout Europe, penned by people living in England, and preserved by a chronicler of the same era, Richard Hakluyt. His Voyages and Discoveries make for fascinating instruction on the state of the world in the 1560s. Where wars were always on the horizon and humankind was as discriminatory toward others different by ethnicity, culture, religion and tribe as they are at the present. Take this for example:

Presently the Inquisitors came up another pair of stairs, and the Viceroy and all the chief justices with them. When they were set down, then came up also a great number of friars, white black and grey (orders) about the number of three hundred persons. Then was silence commanded and then presently began their severe and cruel judgement.

The first man that was called was one Roger the chief armourer of the Jesus, and he had judgement to have three hundred stripes on horseback, and after condemned to the galleys as a slave for ten years.

After him were called John Gray, John Browne, John Rider, John Moone, James Collier, and one Thomas Browne: these were adjudged to have 200 stripes on horseback and after to be committed to the galleys for the space of 8 years.

Then was called John Keyes, and was adjudged to have 100 stripes on horseback and condemned to serve in the galleys for the space of 6 years.

Then were severally called the number of 53 one after another, and every man had his several judgement, some to have 200 stripes on horseback, and some 100, and condemned for slaves to the galleys, some for 6 years, some for 8 and some for 10.

And then was I Miles Philips called, and was adjudged to serve in a monastery for 5 years without stripes, and to wear a fool's coat or sanbenito during all that time.

Then were called John Storey, Richard Williams, David Alexander, Robert Cooke, Paul Horsewell and Thomas Hull: the six were condemned to serve in monasteries without stripes, some for three years and some for four, and to wear the sanbenito during all the said time.

Which being done, and it now drawing toward night, George Rively, Peter Momfrie, and Cornelius the Irishman, were called and had their judgement to be burnt to ashes and so were presently sent away to the place of execution in the market place but a little from the scaffold, where they were quickly burnt and consumed. And as for us that had received our judgement, being 68 in number, we were carried back that night to prison again.

And the next day in the morning being Good Friday the year of Our Lord 1575, we were all brought into a court of the Inquisitor's palace, where we fund a horse in readiness for every one of our men which were condemned to have stripes, and to be committed to the galleys, which were in number 60 and so they being forced to mount up on horseback naked from the middle upward, were carried to be showed as a spectacle for all the people to behold throughout the chief and principal streets of the city, and had the number of stripes to every one of them appointed, most cruelly laid upon their naked bodies with long whips by sundry men appointed to be the executioners thereof; and before our men there went a couple of criers which cried as they went: behold these English dogs, Lutherans enemies to God.

They returned to the Inquisitor's house, with their backs all gore blood, and swollen with great bumps, and were then taken from their horses, and carried again to prison, where they remained until they were sent into Spain to the galleys, there to receive the rest of their martyrdom: and I and the 6 other with me which had judgement and were condemned amongst the rest to serve an apprenticeship in the monastery were taken presently and sent to certain religious houses.

That was then. This is now. And early this morning, after yet another predictable early morning rainfall, we tucked Jackie and Jillie into their harnesses and walked with them up the quiet street we live on to access the ingress to the ravine and the forest below, to spend the next hour-and-half wandering about the forest trails, mindful of the berries waiting to be picked and eaten and shared with our two little dogs. If these summer days do not represent a blessed life, then what does?

From time to time, as is usual, we came alongside others we know, some just recently introduced as it were, but most familiar to us from years of mutual devotion to the fresh air, exercise and sheer unadulterated pleasure of enjoying tramping through woods in all seasons and all weathers. With most of these people were their companion animals. All of us serene in the landscape. Appreciative but not too engaged in the thought that we are all extremely fortunate.

We may be beleaguered with fear of a global pandemic that haunts the world as a threat to health and recover, taking countless human beings to an early grave, but we are reconciled to the fact that we must take extraordinary precautions to maintain our health and keeping a reasonable distance while still making the most of life's opportunities is certainly to be recognized as cardinal in our efforts to remain well. And so, we do.

A Community Benefactor

For quite a while the devoted trail-hiking community had no idea who the mystery person was behind such acts as rescuing the trails from impediments like the occasional fallen tree trunk which we all stepped over until someone brought in equipment to saw the trunk into pieces and set them aside off the trail. And then, when trail maps began appearing at various sites throughout the ravine, posted on tree trunks in the most visible areas, there was no implied connection but again, a mystery.

Finally, someone began putting up little containers in which were deposited bags for the obvious purpose of picking up canine excrement. There had always been a problem of dog poop lying on the trails, evidence that some dogs simply didn't get it, nor did their people, even while most dogs practised pretty good etiquette going off trail into the woods to deposit their offerings.

Ripe Thimbleberries

We reasoned of course that it represented biological waste and would become part of the greater forest mass of accumulated biomass, enriching the forest. No one picks up after all the raccoons, squirrels and birds living in the forest, after all. And then we began seeing bags someone used to scoop up poop being thrown carelessly here and there off the trails into the forest, sometimes landing on tree branches, sometimes on the forest floor.

Pilotweed

Organic matter deteriorates, plastic does not. One could only marvel at the gross stupidity of anyone who would stoop to scoop then toss the product encased in plastic into the very area that was being cleared of such detritus. So it was with a huge sense of gratitude that we began to see containers popping up for discarded and full bags. Someone had gone to that amount of trouble. But who was that someone? No one seemed to know. That someone also gathered all that excrement weekly bagging and placing it on the closest street for pick-up come garbage collection day, without fail.

Someone who was so conscientious and altruistic graduated to placing small garbage pails fitted out with garbage bags to replace the smaller ones previously used. And those pails filled up surprisingly quickly. And they were assiduously collected every week for trash removal. We knew it wasn't the municipality and the parks department, though this is no park but a natural forest. Eventually it was discovered who the person was.

This morning it rained heavily at around 5:00 a.m. but by the time we rose at 8:00 it was over. Our earlier morning rising yesterday at 6:00 kind of knocked us out. When we went downstairs and looked out at the garden out front and the backyard it was to a thoroughly drenched, green world. But the rain had stopped and nothing therefore stopped us from launching ourselves on an early morning trail hike. Not even the forecast that informed us of a chance of thunderstorms, given that the same forecast said the afternoon high would be a clammy 30C once again.

Lots to see out there, the thimbleberry bushes thriving, berries ripening at a fast rate. The pilotweed now dominating the wildflower offerings, though Himalayan orchids are also making a comeback albeit in more modest numbers.

As we approached one of the entry points to the ravine on a street quite distant from our own, Jackie and Jillie were alerted and expectant long before we became aware, and there striding toward our oncoming direction was the very man who had been identified as the Robin Hood of the forest. He is always alone. He has no pet companion of his own. He spends his own money on bags and other accoutrements he places out for public use. And he's a very modest and friendly person.

He enjoys briefly stopping and exchanging pleasantries. A robust looking man presumably in his mid-fifties, he's out every day on the trails, briskly making his way along. He knows nothing about the botany of what he sees daily, cannot identify any birds by type but he appreciates the fresh, clean air, the general green ambiance and the brief acknowledgement of others that he is a man who dedicates himself to the weal of the community in which he lives. Admirable beyond words. Though it would pain him to be made a fuss of.

The creek at the bottom of the ravine was moving swiftly, swollen with rainwater and murky. On its banks, wildflowers thrive. They're difficult to approach with the presence underfoot of large rock pieces put in place a few years back as an aid in keeping the Leda clay soil in place. Jewelweed has grown in great abundance between the rocks and the soil abutting and above the creek. From the distance we must maintain rather than risk injury we can just barely make out the blooming orange jewelweed, exposed to the sun by the near absence of trees.

Back home again. And a bit of relief. When we were three-quarters of the way through our hour-and-a-half circuit, there was a prolonged, deep, thrumming of thunder. A delicious sound to us at any time, but not particularly welcome when we're deep in the woods. All the while we had been out excess rainwater had been dripping from the forest canopy. The foliage everywhere was beautifully glazed with rain and looked stunningly vibrant. Nice to get home, though, after all, without a drenching, even if it happens on a hugely humid, and extremely warm day.

Heat Wave Continuing

We roused ourselves early enough to arrive at our usual supermarket to do the grocery shopping at 7:00 a.m. when they're supposed to be open specifically for seniors during this time of COVID-19. Only to find the rules of the game had changed. They will no longer open daily at 7:00 restricting the hour between 7:00 and 8:00 to seniors, other than Monday, Wednesday and Friday. And this was Tuesday. Feeling rather disgruntled, we left the parking lot housing Food Basics and made our way another ten minutes' drive to the supermarket of the same chain, but more upscale, Metro, their signature store.

They were open, welcoming seniors, and we found the store well stocked with fresh fruits and vegetables. My only complaint is that the store is too large, stocks too much that is inimical to healthy eating, and the prices are a little higher. But we got what we came for, and groaned under the weight of the whole foods we'll be consuming in the coming week or two. Jackie and Jillie were delighted to welcome us back home with huge enthusiastic leaps and bounds as though we had rescued them from a deep, dark dungeon.

And Jackie, with his keen nose checked out all the bags and boxes containing what I would spend the next half-hour unpacking and storing away, to discover which of them held the cauliflowers which we share with them. He dug his nose deep to find one of them, and immediately began availing himself of what he could of its delicious promise, until I whisked it away and out of reach. He'd have to wait until 3:00 in the afternoon for their usual cauliflower snack.

As we relaxed over breakfast, a news item caught my eye. Not surprising, simply validating what we have long been aware of. This July will turn out to be the hottest on record. With the greatest number of successive days well above 30C, in the 35Cs, and 36Cs. With night-time temperatures giving scant relief, so the build-up is enervating and miserable for a whole lot of people. While we lingered over breakfast, we made quick work of the following clean-up and prepared to launch ourselves into a ravine fling with Jackie and Jillie.

These days there's no question we have to equip ourselves with water to take along for the puppies. They start out energetically but by the time an hour winding our way through the forest trails has elapsed, they're ready to be refreshed before carrying on. Mind, there's the little pick-me-ups that the fresh, juicy, just-picked berries represent when my husband plucks them swiftly off the proffering shrubs as we pass.

Already, we note, the poplars have begun shedding the occasional leaf. We see them lying on the trail, forlorn, detached from the trees sitting high above, their foliage flagging at us in the wind. Those discarded leafs are always colourful, presaging autumn. They've turned from the deep dark green of their sister foliage to splotches of pinks and yellows.

Another 30C day in the offing. Sunny, with occasional clouds, none the type that signal rain in the offing. But for the most part the canopy keeps us sheltered from the sun, and today there's a good stiff wind, providing a much-appreciated cooling opportunity in gusts now and again when the wind penetrates the forest thicket. Glancing up above, the sight of the tree masts, deciduous and evergreen both, swaying in the wind, can be mesmerizing.

We noted for the first time, the presence of an immature chokecherry tree close to the second bridge, down on the bank of the creek. Its dangling fruit already bright red, accentuated brightly as they catch the rays of the sun. We also saw a new kind of fungus, one we don't recall ever having come across before. It wasn't very attractive, just quite different, and presumably as efficient as any other in speeding the decay of the old trunk it was fastened on.

Despite the massing heat of the day, and that it was nearing noon, there were several groups of women out with children riding bicycles. Which their mothers had the chore of pushing uphill whenever they came abreast of an ascent too difficult for young children to negotiate. There was also a family group of runners; father, mother, daughter and dog, all seemingly effortlessly floating speedily uphill and down and cheerily, at that.

We came across an old acquaintance who mentioned to us that signage had been put in place over at one of the entrances to the ravine off a major thoroughfare alerting people that the municipality was spraying in the forest against wild parsnip. We haven't seen any at all this year, though we had in the year before. The plants can cause skin irritation if someone accidentally or unknowingly rubs up against them.

On the other hand, poison ivy can do a lot more damage, and there's plenty of it in evidence. Frankly, people hiking through a forest should be aware of what to avoid, should be able to recognize the types of vegetation they come across, preferably to spraying chemicals. Yanking the offending plant out is just as efficient. There was one unpleasant sight we came across just as we were arriving at the conclusion of our circuit. We heard it long before we saw it, a low, loud rumble of a large specialized machine meant for managing, we would assume, environments such as an urban forest.

The driver seemed not to have a defined purpose, simply tracking at low speed through an upper trail, until he arrived at the cusp of a trail that narrows and steeply descends and certainly wouldn't accommodate the width and breadth of the machine. We watched as he backed it up and trundled back along the trail. When we asked the driver, seeing the machine parked later at a more open area what he was doing, his response failed to elucidate. Perhaps he was looking for wild parsnips, though by his manner we were left with the impression that his interest in botany was strictly peripheral.

Excerpt, Richard Hakluyt Voyages and Discoveries : 1589

Voyages and Discoveries : Hakluyt : The Principal Navigations Voyages, Traffiques and Discoveries of the English Nation

A discourse written by one Miles Philips Englishman

put on shore in t he West Indies by Mr. John Hawkins

1568

Upon Monday the second of October 1457 the weather being reasonable fair, our general Mr.John Hawkins, having commanded all his captains and masters to be in readiness to make sail with him, he himself being embarked in the Jesus, hoisted sail, and departed from Plymouth upon his intended voyage for the parts of Africa, and America, being accompanied with five other sail of ships, as namely the Minion, the William and John, the Judith, in whom was captain Mr.Francis Drake afterwards knight, the Angel, and the Swallow.

Coming to the Island of Gomera being one of the islands of the Canaries, where according to an order before appointed, we met with all our ships which were before dispersed, we than took fresh water and upon the eighteenth day of the same month we came to an anchor upon the coast of Africa, at Cape Verde in twelve fathom water; and  here our general landed certain of our men, to the number of 160 or thereabout, seeking to take some negroes. And they going up into the country for the space of six miles, were encountered with a great number of the negroes : who with their envenomed arrows did hurt a great number of our men, so that they were enforced to retire to the ships, in which conflict they recovered but a few negroes, and of our men there died seven or eight in very strange manner, with their mouths shut, so that we were forced to put sticks into their mouths to keep them open.

Upon the coast of Guinea, we obtained 150 negroes. There was a negro sent as an ambassador to our general, from a king of the negroes, which was oppressed with other kings his bordering neighbours, desiring our general to grant him succour and aid against those his enemies, which our general granted unto, and went himself in person a land, with the number of two hundred of our men, and the king which had requested our aid, did join his force with ours, so that thereby our general assaulted, and set fire upon a town in which there was at least the number of eight or ten thousand negroes, and they perceiving that they were not able to make any resistance sought by flight to save themselves, in which their flight there were taken prisoners to the number of eight or nine hundred, which our general ought  to have had for his share : howbeit the negro king falsifying his word and promise, secretly in the night conveyed himself away with as many prisoners as he had in his custody : but our general notwithstanding finding himself to have now very near the number of 500 negroes thought it best to depart with them, and such merchandise as he had from the coast of Africa, towards the West Indies and therefore commanded with all diligence to take in fresh water and fuel, and so with speed to prepare to depart. In a storm we lost one of our ships the William and John, of which ship and of her people, we heard no tidings.

*************************************

Thoughts of what to put on the dinner table these steamy hot days don't usually include soup on the menu. But I had quite a few tomatoes  that I thought should be used before we do our food shopping tomorrow, so thought I'd make a tomato soup for a change. Easy enough to prepare, I started out with a chopped garlic clove and chopped onion, sauteed in a saucepot, added dried thyme and when it was fragrant, three cups of chicken soup stock. Then came a quarter cup tomato paste, three medium sized tomatoes chopped, and everything simmered for 40 minutes. Last thing I added was dried sweet basil. Using an immersion blender, I pureed the soup, then put three dollops of thick sour cream in each bowl before ladling the soup over, and stirred. Heat notwithstanding, it was very good, nice and piquant.

This morning was overcast and very, very humid. So humid in fact that it felt somewhat like I imagine being in a sauna must be like. By afternoon the atmosphere felt very similar to what we experienced while living in Tokyo on over-heated summer days. After the news we heard the weather forecaster state that in his years of experience he had never before experienced this level of humidity. Which made the 30C of the day feel infinitely worse than it might otherwise have been.

We set out for our ravine walk however, before the heat of the day struck. Just after a heavy rainfall that came pelting down in the early morning hours. There was a complete cloud cover of pewter-coloured clouds. We knew rain might strike again while we were out. And despite the warmth of the morning, we decided to wear rainjackets.Which we could never have done in the afternoon.

First, the obligatory tarrying before plunging into the ravine, beside the fast-ripening thimbleberries, Jackie and Jillie patiently awaiting their expected treats. Then, into the forest, its aspect dark as might be expected for an early morning turn under clouded skies, foliage on the trees glittering with rain. We hadn't gone very long before rain started up again, but it was light and we carried on. And though we had tucked their little rainjackets in our pockets we felt Jackie and Jillie didn't need protection from the rain unless and until it became really heavy, since the canopy was keeping us fairly dry.

We did, though, decide that we would carry on, but take a shorter route, and that is precisely what we did, cutting about twenty minutes off our usual circuit. The rain was building up strength, and then came a sudden downpour, thankfully short-lived, and since we were striding along the trail  under a dense portion of the canopy, none of us became very wet and there were no complaints from our rain-averse little dogs. We still had a bit of leisure to appreciate the odd little patch of ajuga that never really amounts to much other than occasional bright little spots of purple flowers beside the trails.

By the time we arrived back home the rain had lifted, giving us the opportunity to look about the garden a bit before breakfast. Phlox is beginning to bloom in the backyard under one of the two weeping mulberries we've had for many years. One of our Explorer series rose shrubs that has grown to an impressive height over the years, is still putting out its beautiful little pink roses. Unfortunately, the presence of Japanese beetles fastened to those delicate flowers is not an inspiring sight.

On the other hand, the nasturtiums that I had planted early in the season are now beginning to bloom, showing their cheery little faces in red this year, a change from the  usual yellow and orange that we usually have as pot fillers. At the front of the house where the other weeping mulberry is planted, I have high hopes for the bright pink hydrangea that has been faithfully producing huge bloom clusters, unlike the blue hydrangea shrubs that grow vigorously enough but have failed the past two years to produce any flowers.

Whistler BioBlitz 2020 : Biologists Having A Blast!

The Fire of Life: metabolism and energy flow in animals and ecosystems by ecologist Jordan Rosenfeld

​Jordan is an aquatic ecologist who lives in Vancouver. His childhood was spent in Ontario collecting bugs and falling into streams. He eventually blundered out to the west coast, where he studies the effect of habitat on ecological processes in streams and energetic constraints on fish distribution and abundance. His specific research is focused on modelling fish habitat, habitat requirements of fish species at risk, optimal stream flows, bioenergetic modelling of juvenile salmonid growth, and understanding how habitat structure affects energy flow in streams. In his spare time Jordan likes to sit on a couch watching TV.

​

"Metabolism has been called the fire of life because low-temperature oxidation of organic matter is what powers animal (and plant) life on planet earth.  Although metabolic differentiation isn't obvious like wing shape or colour on birds and butterflies, it underlies much of global diversity.  I will consider variation in metabolism from animals to plants to ecosystems, and present a bunch of random factoids that I Googled on the internet at the last minute or just made up."

In July, we are planning on hosting scientists for the field portion of BioBlitz. What makes BioBlitz so exciting is that every year BioBlitz scientists find on average 200 species that we didn’t know existed here. The Whistler Biodiversity Project already has a list of over 4,300 species so to keep finding new ones is amazing. There is so much to discover right in our own backyard!

A Memory Jog

No question we were planning to get out early into the ravine this morning. The weather update was unequivocal; 40% chance of afternoon thunderstorms and the humid high temperature to be 32C. It was well on its way to that peak even by 7:30 this morning, so after setting the table for breakfast, off we went with Jackie and Jillie. Something had spooked Jackie before we left the house and instead of snapping up the little squares of cheese he usually shares with Jillie he leaped onto my lap for comfort. He gets a little squirrely at times. I usually think of him as being in very fragile mental health; sharp sounds or unexpected movements can set him off into a tizzy of fear.

As we swept up the street and into the ravine, he recovered his equilibrium, and seemed absolutely normal. A big relief. I can't forget the ordeal we went through with him last fall when it took months before he began behaving normally. He was fearful of everything at that time, and turned our lives inside out, refusing to eat, forgetting his manners and generally reverting to a tentative state of puppyhood. He would constantly lift one of his back legs to 'skip' while walking, he seemed to shrink at being touched. Our veterinarian could find nothing physically awry. Jackie wanted comfort in being held, and when we were finally able to get him back walking in the ravine he would sometimes stop and ask to be carried. I shudder at the prospect of a repeat.

He was fine by the time my husband began picking ripe thimbleberries and doling them out before we swooped into the forest descent. A woman passing with her Yellow Lab was curious and wanted to know what thimbleberries were. My husband invited her to try some for herself and she declared them delicious, had never known of them before. She was new to the ravine, just recently discovered it, and was inordinately pleased with the opportunities it presents as a recreational treasure. Unlike us living in close proximity, she had to drive a short distance to arrive at the forest but is thankful for its presence.

As we moved on, down the hill and up another, we were met by the sight of a mushroom colony over an old decaying tree trunk, knowing that the mushrooms would be gone again a day later. They keep erupting out of the forest floor and have done so for years, renewing their presence briefly then dying back again. And when we passed over the second of the four bridges we would pass through in total during our circuit today, we noted that there were seeds left unconsumed by the squirrels that had used the top rail of the second bridge as a surface to break apart this year's plentiful spruce cones. Painstakingly extracting the seed pods from the structure of the disassembled cones, the seeds are pried out and eaten, but we assumed that this little squirrel had had enough and the leftovers were testament to that.

We also came across a couple on the trail whom we haven't seen for years. They were, at one time, regular trail walkers and we would see them frequently with their little dog decades ago. About twenty years ago regular hikers became aware of the presence of a dog left in the forest by someone. That someone had left the dog's crate, a few blankets, a bowl of water and one of kibble, and abandoned the dog. No one knew of the presence of the crate and it was only, it was assumed, many days later that the dog was first noticed. He could be heard barking. And he would not allow anyone to get near him. It took awhile before the presence of the crate was discovered.

This couple, he a retired communications specialist with the Canadian Armed Forces who had been stationed at Lahr, Germany long after the Second World War, and the German woman he met there and married, made it their special focus to win the trust of that poor dog who would often be seen at a distance wandering about the trails, aloof and frightened. They did just that, gaining the dog's trust with patience and kindness, feeding it and waiting for it to relax in their presence until they were able to leash it and take it home with them.

After which, whenever they would be seen in the ravine, the 'lost' dog would be with them and their original dog. The two dogs became fast companions and that poor abandoned dog enjoyed the final years of its life with people who loved him. Such kind, compassionate people can only deserve the community's admiration and gratitude.