It was a cold and dark December night when I arrived home after a long appointment. As I walked into the house, I could see my Golden Retriever instantly perk up, a look of hope on her face that we could still do our regular late day walk. Well… why not? There was a small moon out and the snow usually made it surprisingly bright out on winter nights, so I slipped on my snowshoes. My wife and I were still adjusting to the high energy of a dog finally leaving the puppy stage, after giving shelter to two adult rescue dogs previously. She is from solid hunting stock, and I usually walk her an hour or so twice a day, often off leash in deep woods, both of us lost in a deep meditative state.

We had walked quite a ways on the golf course near my home, and suddenly she disappeared into a densely wooded area, with brush six feet high and wind fallen trees up to 100 feet long, scattered like random bowling pins across the forest floor. I kept calling her back to me, but she would only come as far as the edge of the dense woods, her golden fur glistening in the moonlight, inviting me to go deeper. My first thought was that I might lose her, but then I chuckled inside. Read More

Late last fall a mother deer with three little ones would occasionally roam through the backyard. The babies had lost their spots, but they were still small and no doubt in need of their mother’s nurturing.

Weeks went by without sight of them, and I feared the babies might have been hit by a car and perhaps the mother shot during deer season. After the first snowfall, however, trails wound through the yard indicating at least one was alive.

I spotted all three little ones in the woods one day, having grown somewhat in the passing months. They were searching for food, and of course, snow covered the ground and nothing was left on the branches to eat. One became brave enough and ventured close to the house, checking out the bird feeders and helping itself to some of the fallen seeds. It was then my husband and I decided to put out some corn for them, something I will surely regret when the tender green perennials sprout in the spring. But we felt sorry for them and couldn’t help but provide a little something to get them through the winter.Read More