Dodging Doggy Dung

Lately the trail in the park has been peppered with dog turds.  Large ones.  One night last week we cut through the park on the way home from our walk to the waterfront.  Guess who ended up with dog poop in every crack and crevice of one shoe?

Me, that's who. 

This morning I walked a bit later than usual and met a guy walking a big German Shepherd.  We used to run into each other daily when Seymour was still alive and he had a different dog.

Today, as we were saying good morning, his dog took a major dump right beside us, and he just carried on like nothing was happening.   If I had had a bag in my pocket I would have offered it to him, but since I didn't -  I did nothing too.  Except fume silently.

Judging from the size of the poop I observed, and the other poops along the trail, I am pretty sure this is the culprit of all of them. 

Next encounter I will be sure to have a bag in my pocket and will offer it and will tell him I use the trail daily and don't want to have to dodge landmines.

In the nicest way possible, of course.

 

Sanctuary

Cold. Sunny.  The park was like a bird sanctuary this morning with peeps, caws and squawks from every tree as the birds celebrated the sunshine.

Around a bend in the trail I met Mario, a mechanic who I often see jogging through the park in the morning when I walk.  He was having a conversation with a fat robin.  Really.

At first he seemed a bit sheepish when I encountered him, catching him talking to the bird.  When I told him how the treed area reminded me of a bird sanctuary and how thrilling it was for me to hear all that birdsong, he relaxed.

When I told him I look for the heron every morning we bonded.  He does too! 

 

The Park, My Little Piece of Urban Paradise

This morning, like almost every weekday morning, I went for a walk in the park.

With the crunchy frost on the grass and the bright blue sky above with a few stars still visible, this morning's early morning walk was especially nice.

Most mornings there is a heron which stands at the edge of the creek, right where the water tumbles over some rocks as it rushes to the ocean, just a short distance away.  I assume he is feeding there.  While he always looks a bit wary when he sees me, he stays put and I pass by without disturbing him.

This morning, a bottle collector was on the trail and our paths crossed right beside the heron's spot.  This guy was decked out in a safety vest over his jacket, bike helmet, and had a bike with two huge black garbage bags stuffed to the brim with bottles and cans.  We said good morning, and he asked me the time.  Then he walked down to the water and washed his hands in the icy creek.

At this unexpected interruption, Mr. Heron (I apologize if you are a female but you look masculine) was startled into flight, in a lift off that seemed impossible as he stretched out his gangly body, with legs as long as mine poking out behind him at an awkward angle.  In slow motion, his powerful wings flapped and lifted him slowly, slowly above and over me and along the perimeter of the park.  I wonder if that was the end of breakfast for him?

Leo and I played with a stick as we walked along past the tennis courts and through the wooded section of the trail until we reached the road, where we turn around an go back along the lower path.  At the turn around point, while I waited for Leo to explore with his nose, I looked up at the sky.  Through the silhouette of the bare tree branches against the sky I saw five bird nests.  It's remarkable that birds are at home here, between the busy roads, the train tracks a few meters away and a gathering place for the homeless right along the opposite shore of the creek.  Such adaptability to a situation is really admirable.  I watch the ducks happily floating on the little bit of water that been left to them and wonder if they grumble about the changes to their home.  The Spirit Trail appropriated a huge swath of what was their habitat last year, and people regularly dump all manner of garbage and garden refuse on the edge of their pond.  But there they are, making the best of it.

There is a lesson here.

``Things turn out best for those that make the best of the way things turn out```(John Wooden) 

Last evening Chuckles got the wood all painted in preparation for working on the storage shed this weekend.

 

We are keeping our fingers crossed that the metal roofing material we ordered for it comes in tomorrow as it was not at the building supply place today.  Since the weekend is going to be a nice weather one, we really want to get as much done on the shed as possible!