Snow Keeps No Secrets
Walking in fresh snow makes plain much that remains hidden other times of the year. There's no way around it. As one moves thorgh the snow, tracks are left plain and obvious for the world to see, or at least for other dogs and their humans to see. :)
And so, with a full cup of Ethiopian Yirghacheffe in hand, begin our days observations. Mine with my eyes, Beyla's with her nose. I suspect her nose tells her far more about the comings and goings of those before us that my eyes will show me. But nonetheless I start looking around. You see, without the snow on the ground, it's very easy to amuse myself with the belief that these woods are ours and nobody else's. If I see noone else, and I see no obvious signs of their presence then for all intents and purposes for the time being the forest IS ours. Hey, posession is nine tenths of the law they say, right? In this respect I'm beginning to understand Aldo Leopold's feeling of owning all the land he and his dog traversed in the early hours where boundaries, ownership, and the land clerks files have little meaning, or at least I think I do anyway.
Ah, here's the quote I was looking for:
"One hundred and twenty acres according to the County Clerk, is the extent of my worldly domain. But the County Clerk is a sleepy fellow, who never looks at his record books before nine o’clock. What they would show at daybreak is the question here at issue.
Books or no books, it is a fact, patent both to my dog and myself, that at daybreak I am the sole owner of all the acres I can walk over. It is not only boundaries that disappear, but also the thought of being bounded. Expanses unknown to deed or map are known to every dawn, and solitude, supposed no longer to exist in my county, extends on every hand as far as the dew can reach." - Aldo Leopold
If you love the outdoors and haven't read his work, I highly recommend you do so. The man has a truly marvelous insight into the world around him.
The snow-covered ground alters that perception a bit. At the entrance to the forest we stepped over a fresh set of tire tracks, still in crisp detail despite the relatively warm weather. From the tracks emerged 2 feet and 4 paws. Somebody was out and about even earlier than us it seems. Perhaps we're not so alone as we often think? Tromping down the trail we come upon several more tracks, both human and canine. At least 6 people I can count.
Not only does the snow tell us who's been here, it even tells us a bit about them. There are 3 that were either unprepared for or uncaring about the snow in which they'll be walking. They left sneaker tracks in the snow, many clearly displaying the heel that slid when it should have been firmly planted. Or the toe that instead of pushing off the ground as planned simply slid back before the owner shifted their footing to regain their balance. Then there's 2 more like myself, fitted more or less for all seasons with sturdy hiking boots suitable for a morning walk, but not something one would wear for a longer trek. Still heavy and warm enough for the purpose at hand. Lastly theres' that one person who came out fully prepared for winter with the unmistakable tread of solid winter boots. The snow doesn't however tell me if any others are sipping their morning coffee while they walk. I guess the snow doesn't tell us everything, does it?
All of them freshly planted. Looks like we are not alone at all. And these folks start early! LOL!
Nonetheless, on part of our route we still got first tracks. Why is that so exciting do you think? Even in the most modest of locations, it seems to still have that faint feeling of going where nobody else has yet. I'm not sure Beyla was as amused as I was, but then she was busy in her own world sniffing out what's new and interesting.
But one thing is for certain, the snow keeps no secrets. It tells much to those willing to listen.
