Northern Dancer
Survivalist
I'm suffering a bit from separation anxiety.
Separation from the lakes and the rivers and the streams.
When that happens or when life is a bit rough I take down a journal and
read of some trip I've taken the past. I did that this evening and read this.....
___________________________________________Separation from the lakes and the rivers and the streams.
When that happens or when life is a bit rough I take down a journal and
read of some trip I've taken the past. I did that this evening and read this.....
It was just about dusk at our camp site on Big Porcupine Lake.
The evening's dinner dishes had been meticulously washed and put away.
The food scrapes were burned as not to attract unwelcome animal visitors
and the camp fire had been built for the evening.
There wasn't any discussion; it was that peaceful lull in
the day before night fall when people felt quite comfortable in saying nothing.
The evening's dinner dishes had been meticulously washed and put away.
The food scrapes were burned as not to attract unwelcome animal visitors
and the camp fire had been built for the evening.
There wasn't any discussion; it was that peaceful lull in
the day before night fall when people felt quite comfortable in saying nothing.
I took the opportunity to groom my Golden Retriever, Blazer,
who had long sandy hair that attracted every burr and
plant that could possibly stick to fur. He enjoyed the grooming routine
and stretched out willingly on the rock that had been heated by the warmth of the sun.
who had long sandy hair that attracted every burr and
plant that could possibly stick to fur. He enjoyed the grooming routine
and stretched out willingly on the rock that had been heated by the warmth of the sun.
It was like someone suddenly turned the CD system on full blast
when you were least expecting it.
Everyone, including Blazer were instantly on their feet at the first piercing sound.
It was clear, precise, penetrating and wonderful.
when you were least expecting it.
Everyone, including Blazer were instantly on their feet at the first piercing sound.
It was clear, precise, penetrating and wonderful.
It was the distinctive call of the wild; it was the howl of the wolf.
It instantly reminded me of the stories from
Rudyard Kipling's Jungle Book and Jack London's Call of the Wild.
The howls in concert drifted through the camp and beyond our site.
It instantly reminded me of the stories from
Rudyard Kipling's Jungle Book and Jack London's Call of the Wild.
The howls in concert drifted through the camp and beyond our site.
The wolves did not stop howling from the setting of the sun
until the rising of the same the next day.
Never in all my years of camping in Algonquin
have I ever heard such a complete performance
staged by these majestic creatures.
until the rising of the same the next day.
Never in all my years of camping in Algonquin
have I ever heard such a complete performance
staged by these majestic creatures.
Though there is a population of approximately
one hundred and seventy five wolves that inhabit Algonquin
this was my first experience being thrilled by the primitive sound of a wolf.
one hundred and seventy five wolves that inhabit Algonquin
this was my first experience being thrilled by the primitive sound of a wolf.
It was the first and only time that I have experience this.
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