Alright Mother Nature, it is time to stop shaking the snow globe, we get it. Trying to get out for snowshoeing has been all but impossible, as when I have a day off it means helping the significant other to shovel the roof, the deck and the drive. Here is your public service announcement; if you have not been shoveling your roof, and you experience any water damage or collapse, you may not be covered by your insurance. If you can’t get up there yourself, consider hiring someone to shovel for you. After all, there is probably a short step from the top of your snowbank and onto the roof, though where you will throw that snow is an entirely different issue.
During the last heavy snow fall I headed out to try and enjoy the winter weather. There is almost no place left to park that is safe, and even when you can find a trail head the snow is still mid thigh and hard to traverse. With those thick and heavy snowflakes falling around me, I headed out to a local spot. The trail was almost impassable, and several times I lost my way. At times the snowfall was so heavy that I could not see more than a few feet in front of me. The piles of snow created trails that felt like I was in a tunnel, with a roof of deep grey sky. Weirdly, the tracks of rabbits and squirrels were above my head, as the local wildlife used the snow piles to access the slender trunks of young trees.
As I continued along the quickly diminishing trail, I began to feel that I was being watched. I have previously written about the importance of listening to that inner voice, that lizard brain that notices things that might just be a problem, and that you better take notice of. Through the thick flakes, I could just make out the shape of a large canine stalking me along the trail. My heart went into overdrive, and I began to breathe fast and furious. My brain starts making contingency plans, including trees I may be able to climb and spend the night in. I have my poles, which I bang together, and usually this is enough to deter wild animals. Not this time, as the canine continues its slow advance toward me and seems to have no fear of humans. It has been many years since I have last had an encounter with an animal that stalked me. More than a decade ago I was hiking out on the back trail at the Wye Marsh, on a loop trail that was rarely used. I had the same feeling back then, that I was both being watched and followed. I had kept looking behind me and there it was, a large black bear staying just behind me. For more than three kilometres this bear stalked me, resulting in me getting my original poles and bear bells. A decade later and I once again have that same feeling.
Today, as that canine continues to stalk me along the trail, I think of the time I was in Copeland Forest. I was in the south part of the forest, on little used trails, when I heard the distinctive “yip, yip” of a coyote homing in on a hunt, with me being the hunted. A loud snarl, not meant for me, but for the young coyotes, and I continued along the trail unmolested but with some serious adrenaline. Which brings me to today’s trails. With the massive snow, I have nowhere to go, and I turn to confront the beast that has been stalking me. Out of the heavy snow, the figure of a large beagle hound emerges. That is right, the greatest trek I have been on lately is in my own back yard, with a beagle looking for a snack and a snuggle.