There are winter days that are just exquisitely beyond beautiful and yesterday was one of them. Not sure that this impressed Jackie and Jillie the least little bit. But it certainly did us. The landscape of a forest steeped deep in snow is brilliantly enhanced when the sun braves its luminous presence through a naked canopy of trees. All the more so when it begins to set and appears shimmering on the horizon, sending probing light fingers of fire through the screen of trees.

As it did yesterday. Added to which was a moderating temperature that rose to -2C. Which would have been absolutely perfect, but for the overbearing presence of a biting wind. To all of this our little dogs are happily oblivious. Their satisfaction lies in the very fact that they're in a natural landscape, even if their freedom to explore that landscape to their hearts' content is now compromised by the presence of prowling threats leaving us little option but to ensure they remain securely leashed.

We decided for a little longer hike through the forest trails than we've been treating ourselves to lately. Mostly because there always seems to be so much that has to be crammed into a day. Who says that retirement from an active work life outside the home is relentlessly boring? Our elder years leave us with the time to select how our days should be enriched, and to neglect those opportunities is to waste life.

Where we used to amble along after Jackie and Jillie, forever spurting ahead of us, we now are hurried along by them still thinking they'll sprint here and there, and just lug us along in their wake. Not sure they see much difference from what we've long been accustomed to, but it seems to us it makes a bigger difference in our estimation to us, than it does to them.

They're no longer free to voice their aggressive denials of the right of other dogs to mosey about on the trails and into the forest interior by physical confrontations. Which, when the dog in question is curious about these ill-behaved little louts will swerve toward them and trot in their direction having the effect of persuading our two little belligerents that it might be wise to vacate the immediate premises, bringing them helter-skelter back to us and the protection of 'big' brother and 'big' sister.

Now, they strain at the leash and bark, warning all other dogs that they're unfamiliar with, that they're treading on private territory; theirs and theirs alone, with the right to vet who goes there. It's a strange turn of nature that very small dogs behave so aggressively toward other dogs, while large dogs for the most part, are docile in comparison and relatively well behaved. And it's not just that they've been trained to do so, it's also a reflection of their breeds' pattern of behaviour.

There are times when we become so irritated by Jackie and Jillie in their toy Poodle propensities to bark and to challenge other dogs, that we jokingly offer a trade, two for one. An offer that usually gets a laugh out of the people who think they're so cute. Sometimes I wonder whether we're really joking. And then I remind myself how much we love the annoying little creatures and all the reasons that we do.

Coyotes appear to have made inroads all over North America, making residents of cities large and small in Canada vigilant for their pets' safety in the knowledge that these skilled predators lurk everywhere. There have been reports in the past of coyotes attacking small children and pets in inner-city parks, most often thought of as urban legends. But recently a family in the town of Exeter, New Hampshire had quite the experience, when the father and mother witnessed a coyote attack on their two-year old while they were walking along a forest pathway.

The parents desperately pulled the coyote away from their son, the father tangling with the coyote and coming away with bites on his arm and chest before subduing the animal. Their swift action saved their son from any harm. Its carcass is to be tested for rabies, though coyotes, as predators certainly don't require the presence of rabies to incite them to attack small humans.

The growing assertiveness of coyotes seen singly and in small packs in our area for the past several years has been worrisome with sightings and confrontations, but it has only been this winter that concerns have been heightened with the bold presence of coyotes during daylight hours. Attested to by people we've known for a long time, showing us photographs they've taken along with their accompanying narratives.

We see no remedy to ensure the safety of our two little dogs, themselves tending to be pugnacious with other animals, other than to keep them constantly on leash. A remedy that may seem like punishment for some unknown offence to them when they discover after leaping the length of the extendable leash that they can go no further, but which they have seemed to adapt to.

Our own freedom of movement has been compromised as well, having to keep them leashed rather than allowing them the freedom to spurt about as they've always been accustomed to. Even when we used to keep them in sight as a kind of compromise, we know that is gambling with their safety, and it's simply not enough for obvious reasons. They're small enough for a coyote to swiftly grab and run off with them and our legs are no match for the four legs of a predator.

Other peoples' dogs, of all sizes, out of sight of their human companions, and sometimes in sight, but at a distance, have responded to the presence of a 'friendly' coyote's invitation to come and play, leading to being led into the forest interior where other coyotes await the opportunity for all to turn on the unsuspecting dog. Sometimes the dog in peril, will respond to their human's call to return to them, and sometimes they won't. They'll be injured and require surgery, or as happened last week, killed.

So we're vigilant. Yesterday when we were out on the trails, on a -10C, windy and overcast afternoon, we saw some of our hiking friends at distances on other trails on occasion, a wave sufficing from our position on a ridge to theirs far down below within the ravine or vice versa. On one occasion we were close enough to another trail where a break in the forest screen enabled us to spot a friend leading her three dogs on their perambulation, to hear her shout out to us whether we'd seen any coyotes yet. Meant to be a joke, because we'd seen her the day before, both of us agreeing we never had.

We noted yesterday again, as we had so many times this winter and winter seasons before, that a new crop of wild bee corpses had been tossed out of the hive high above the trail from a huge old pine growing at the junction of two opposing trails. Hundreds of dead bees have littered the snow on the forest floor; distinctly noticeable every time there's a new snowfall.

We can only speculate the number of bees that hive that we first noticed many years ago, accommodates. Every year hundreds of bees, likely mostly overworked drones, die off during the winter months while hibernating, meant to allow them to rest from their frenetic activity pollinating the forest's wildflowers and fruit-bearing shrubs and plants and trees. But it never fails to elicit from us a tinge of sadness at their still and frozen presence.

Just one day after a significant snowfall, it's amazing how quickly the trails meandering through the forest in our nearby ravine become tamped down. It never used to be like this. Of course decades ago the trails were also much narrower, and we would, for the most part, have the ravine to ourselves but for a handful of stalwart and determined hikers. During those early years of our residence in this area, the trails themselves would be one bootprint wide, and deep, reflecting the scant numbers forging through. Now, all of our early hiking friends are long gone. Certainly their dogs are.

Although we never thought to imagine it at the time when we mourned the passing of familiar dogs years ago, it seldom occurred to us that one day we would also lose our two little dogs, Button and Riley. But we did, Button at age 19.4 years, and Riley when he was 15 years old. We mourned them, missed them, and brought Jackie and Jillie into our home to live with us four years ago.

Today, out on the trails in the ravine we were surprised at how broadly the track had been pressed down. Mind, 22 cm of snow does makes an impression, particularly over the already-existing snowpack. Step off the beaten track as it were, and you're deep in snow and progress is slow. But stay on the trail and it's an easy go. After the remediation work done on the collapsed slopes of the ravine close to where we live several years ago, a new entrance to the ravine was made, off a major traffic street. And that's what has made the difference.

People unaware of the opportunities, though they were always there, along with several trails, narrow and not quite so evident, led from that same street to the interior of the ravine, both seldom used. The newer, more obvious entrance seems to appeal to greater numbers of nearby residents as an opportunity to get out into a nearby natural landscape. Now, we see people streaming up into the forest, and down into its interior at a volume which, while still modest given the number of people in the community, far outstrip numbers previously seen.

Everyone now knows about the presence of coyotes and the unusual sightings during daylight hours. People walking large dogs don't believe they have anything to be concerned about, for the most part, and those with small dogs now keep them leashed, as we do.

Jackie and Jillie had some company for a brief period during this afternoon's hike through the trails, when we bumped into our friends Sheila and Barry with their three Border Collies. Siblings all. And the most well-behaved dogs anyone might imagine. They obey instantly on command. So though they're middling-sized, should they be confronted with potential trouble, Sheila and Barry feel confident they would be in control of any situation.

It was cold, but the wind didn't seem to penetrate the forest today, so the cold, at -10, was manageable. One of the Border Collies, bored with waiting, but reluctant to move on while we were talking together, sank into the snow which covered halfway over his body. Content to sit in regal aplomb while we shivered, looking at him.

It couldn't have been more picture-perfect as a forest landscape in winter. The sky was clear blue against the predominating white, and the sun burnt its brilliant rays like a fiery ball through the forest canopy. It's going back down to -21C again tonight, and the wind is picking up, so it'll feel quite raw for anyone venturing out this evening. Which won't include us.

Usually when it's cold out as it was early today, our instincts are not to stop for anything, but to continue striding along to maintain the protective warmth from the energy expended on our hikes through the forest trails. But when you meet up with someone, it's hard to remember that. There's always things to discuss with old friends. It wasn't until I glanced down and noticed Jackie shivering, even though he was dressed in a warm winter coat over a wooly sweater, and his boots keeping his little paws off the snow that I stooped down to raise him up into my arms for warmth and shelter.

Jillie needs no such considerations. She has twice the amount of flesh covering her stout little body as her brother. She sits and waits patiently, unfazed by the cold, seemingly. They were both excited when we saw Jango the beautiful Husky striding toward us. We hadn't seen her in ages, nor her human companion, an old friend of ours. She wanted to tell us that her husband had twice seen several coyotes in the woods this week.

Everyone is abuzz with the sightings of coyotes. We're in there on the forest trails every day and have yet to see a coyote. We've seen foxes, pheasants, beaver, muskrats, raccoons, owls, great blue herons, hawks, snapping turtle, skunk on occasion, but never yet a coyote. Some people have come across deer even though their traffic corridor has been compromised, but never have we.

So they're there, all right, we're convinced. Twenty years back we felt assured that the newly-spotted presence of coyotes would obey the 'rules' and remain hidden from view other than in the hours of darkness. In years previous to that we often set out at night for our daily ravine hikes through the woods, overcast winter skies glancing off the snow on the forest floor to render ample light for us. We never, at that time, came across any wild animals.

Strangely enough, now that there are fewer animals about as a result of more houses being built on the periphery of the ravined forest, the coyotes began appearing. So we clearly have generations of coyotes hereabouts; the wonder is what are they all eating? Rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, moles when they can catch them, but that speaks of a finite source. It also speaks to the fact that man's best friend becomes more vulnerable, as a result.

Jackie and Jillie who have known off-leash freedom for most of their lives are now becoming accustomed to on-leash treks through the familiar landscape of the ravine. Today was even colder than yesterday, though the temperature read the same; -15C. The difference being that clear skies lidded the forest yesterday with the penetrating rays of the sun here and here, and no wind. Today, it's completely overcast, and a nasty wind is in evidence, awaiting the forecasted snowstorm we've been warned to expect that will leave us with up to 20 cm of new snow.

Newfoundland has had quite the snow event, with 44 to 70 cm of snow dumped in some areas yesterday and overnight, and a state of emergency announced; everything pretty well closed down until areas can be dug out of the mountains of snow left behind.

The creek at the ravine's bottom is continuing to freeze over, though at the upper portion where the rapids are located, it likely will keep moving along. Continued cold weather throughout the coming week will no doubt hasten the process of icing over.

Although our puppies are always happy to be out and about in the snow, it was a safe enough assumption that today they were glad to be back from their daily jaunt, in their nice warm house where they could doze away the following several hours.

The Rideau Canal, which Ottawa boasts as the longest skating rink in the world, has still not been opened for skating this year. Even if the ice has been groomed, it isn't yet thick enough to satisfy the National Capital Commission that it is entirely safe to allow an official opening and people flocking along with their skates to zip along the iced-over canal. We did that, when our children were young, and it was always a lovely experience to view familiar landmarks from the perspective of a frozen canal, moving smoothly along on ice.

The creek down in the ravine is finally, once again, freezing over. We could see the faint orange-oval traces of the goldfish under the ice in the little pool they favour. It was -19C this morning and the day-time high, -17C. But thankfully no wind to speak of, and a clear sky, so the sun began to warm the atmosphere nicely enough. If the cold continues at this rate, the creek will freeze over completely, and the Rideau Canal will be open for business for the duration of mid-winter. Some people, depending on where they live along the canal route, make it a daily adventure to skate to work in the downtown area.

On the local news this morning on CBC there was a story and a notice that came with the story. On the west side of the city -- we're located on the east side -- coyotes attacked and killed a good-sized dog. A woman had been walking the two family dogs through an open field, the dogs freely roaming when they ran after what the woman realized too late was a coyote. There were two; one to lure the dogs the second to close in from behind. Her frantic calls brought one of her dogs back but the other failed to re-appear. Her husband went out himself when she returned home, and there were the coyotes, one allowing him to approach, and luring  him on, when the man noticed that another was moving closer behind him.

So leashes it shall be and leashes it shall remain, and for how long we've no idea. The misfortune struck the dog at 4:45, when dusk had already arrived. On our hike through the ravine today we bumped into a woman walking her family's two mid-sized dogs. She informed us that two days earlier, at 12:45 p.m., broad daylight, she had seen a coyote in one of the ravine hollows we're quite familiar with. Her dogs responded immediately she recalled them.

Well, today is a glorious, sparkling winter day. Snow from the storm of two nights ago remains on the trees, illuminated by the sun, and the landscape is beyond beautiful. We had a quite lovely hike through the forest, but it was terribly cold. When we'd taken Jackie and Jillie out first thing in the morning we first dressed them in snug little sweaters. When they came back in, their paws and legs were icy feeling and full of snow, but their bodies were toasty-warm.

Jackie kept challenging us to a run-and-tussle while we were out on the trails. He expressed a like invitation to Jillie. They often engage in competitive run-abouts, with Jackie running rings around Jillie, she doing her best to outmanoeuvre him, to little avail. The energy they both expend and the swiftness of their movements is amazing. But this cannot happen on leash.

Just as well that often when we return home from one of our ravine escapades they'll both be seized with an appetite to rip through the house on a running rampage, stopping now and again to rise on hind legs and box with one another....

Our roller-coaster weather that gave us a mid-afternoon high of -6C with whipping winds, warmed up overnight as snow began to fall. Not as much snow as had been expected, just enough to give our landscape a nice plush loft of new snow, like nature throwing a lightweight comforter brilliantly crystalline over everything; enough to dazzle the eyes.

In the morning it was a balmy 0C paired with a wind that did its utmost to sweep all surfaces clear of snow, creating micro-tornadoes of snowdrift and eventually clearing much of the new snow off area trees and shrubs. The snow whipped off rooftops and onto driveways and walkways made it appear as though a follow-up snowfall had ventured by, when no one was aware.

We shovelled out the pathways in the backyard for Jackie and Jillie. So they would have a nice clear amble-about without having to go deep into the snow. They appreciated that thoughtfulness so much that they took extra pains to zip through the snow-lofted areas we never clear of snow; off the beaten track as it were. Wallowing in deep snow is an absolute delight for them. They whip through it at breakneck speed, stopping momentarily to signal to one another that a race is on, and off they go again.

By the time they're brought back into the house their legs are well slathered with snow. They know enough to leap from the patio door to the towel-covered seat of a deacon's bench we keep along one wall of the breakfast room, waiting a rubdown. Whenever they're out for a prolonged period of time while it's still snowing they re-enter the house looking like miniature snowdogs, and relish a towel tossed completely over them as each is towelled vigorously, from ears down to paws.

When we left the house for our afternoon ravine walk today the temperature had begun dropping; it had reached -2C. By the time we returned from that hike on the forest trails about an hour later it was -6C, and the wind was doing its roaring best to hasten a further fall in temperature. Destined to dip to -20C by tonight.

New snow brings out fun-time yearning for nearby residents. We could see tracks of snowshoes, skis, fat-tire bicycles and hikers like ourselves with their companion dogs on all the trails. Which meant that all that newfallen snow had been well tamped down on the trails. It was, in fact, more comfortable and easier to plow through the newly-snowed-in trails than it was slogging up the street which hadn't yet been plowed.

Before we set out, my husband had pulled on a pair of our trusty old Mountain Equipment cleats held in place by velcroed straps, and we set aside the pairs constructed of rubber that slip over boots that seem so frustratingly unreliable on my boots. The steel studs on those old cleat sets that give us such good traction get a good workout from season to season; these are over 20 years old. From time to time my husband simply replaces them with new screws and they're as good as new.

Our region of the Ottawa Valley never really wants for clear skies and bright sunlit days in the winter months. But the other fact is that we get a whole lot of snow throughout the winter months. So it's fair enough to say that the days divide between clear skies and heavily overcast ones. Whenever we're experiencing a spate of cloudy days it somehow seems as though that's the norm, though it isn't.

Our memories trick us as our minds linger on the thought of how long it's been since we last saw the sun. When the truth is it hasn't been that long. Still, waking three mornings in a row to an atmosphere dull with grey, despite the brightening effects of snow remaining on the ground, there's a dismal feeling of being closed in.

We're in one of those spates of overcast days now. Mind, when we delve into the ravined forest where the forest interior always seems to have a twilight aspect, that mood is lifted somewhat with the forest floor steeped in snow, everything gently curving and humped in a bright white landscape. There's enough snow down to form a decent snowpack allowing boots to grip securely on ascents and descents. Just as well, since my boot cleats keep falling off, though my husband's never do.

Yesterday we returned from our afternoon circuit through the forest trails when dusk had set in. Today our circuit was somewhat shorter and we'd left at an earlier hour so even under the dull canopy of clouds there was good light. There are animal tracks everywhere throughout the forest floor. We muse over which might be the pawprints of coyotes now securely resident in the ravine.

I've returned to a retractable leash for Jackie, and he's happier with its use. It affords him a bit more freedom, enabling him to roam just a tad. I've just got to keep alert to ensure that his leash and Jillie's intersect as infrequently as possible. He must regard it as an improvement, since he's no longer pulling as he has been doing with the short leash.

When we passed the last of the bridges over the creek close to the conclusion of today's hike, we looked as usual at the pool that had hosted a gaggle of goldfish for the past month. We felt quite badly that we could no longer sight them the past several days, after a mild day that had melted some of the snowpack, not to mention the rain that fell copiously; over 41 mm-worth had created a swirling rush of water passaging downstream.

We had assumed that the pool wasn't deep enough for the small fish to find refuge in calmer waters deeper than the surface rush that swept everything before it. But there they were, returned to the pool, companionably beside one another as usual. We assumed that the much smaller black ones that our son had pointed out to us weeks ago are also back in residence, though we couldn't see them back then but for mere flickers, and weren't able to determine today whether they too were present.

It did make us feel good, though. Setting aside the reality that as an exotic species they're intruders, not native to our environment, their presence likely displacing other, native species dependent on a finite food source. Despite which, we're happy to see them returned.