Within the last 48 hours the temperature had risen from -28 centigrade with howling winds and deep snowdrifts to + 9, with freezing rain, that transformed the landscape into an endless, dull, foggy skating ring.
On this rain-soaked morning I was listlessly putting on my way too tight woollen socks and while I pulled hard I was glancing out the rain-spattered living room window and saw her:
On the other side of the creek, trotting quickly from puddle to puddle over the still frozen ice.
Large, a bit skinny, probably due more to the wet fur than malnutrition. She rolled in one of the last patches of snow – She-Wolves do that, when they are in heat – leaving scent marks, invitations – tantalizing…..
Then she jumped up and ran over to a Muskrat pile that is now protruding through the ice. She squatted, peed on it, to make sure, everyone got the message…..
Off to the old abandoned Beaver lodge – repeat task, then loop on – down the creek and into the rolling fog…….
May she be well.
May she connect…..
May there be pups in the rendezvous site come autumn!