Thankful for puppy dogs

Bayou loves car rides

Bayou loves the mountains

Bayou is one of the sweetest canines I have had had the good fortune to know.  She’s a little special, but that just makes me love her all the more.  No matter how bad I might feel Bayou can always bring a smile to my face with her shenanigans.  She has the good fortune of being able to love unconditionally with no effort.  We all could learn a lot from that.  I can’t imagine what I did to deserve the best dog on the planet, but I do know I sure am glad she’s here.

With her favorite people

The Hawk and the Hare

It was brilliantly white.  The whole world was blanketed, settled in for the season, dreaming of spring.  There were few sounds in the crisp air of morning.  The brave winter birds sang their defiant songs, the wind whistled through the bare trees and her footfalls echoed over the field.

 

She stopped at the top of the hill and shielded her eyes with her hand.  There was purity to all the whiteness.  It made her feel as though the world was new.  As though it was all wide open.  As though anything was possible.

 

Movement caught her attention.  A hawk soared over the field.  Its flight was effortless and majestic.  There was an economy to the loping circles.  No wasted effort, no energy expended without purpose.

 

A very different quality of motion diverted her attention.  The hare bounded across the field.  Its zigzagging trajectory was erratic and frenetic.  There was an excess of energy in each movement.  It jumped to and fro without apparent direction.

 

Had the hawk seen the hare?  For a moment it seemed as though the hare’s progress had gone unnoticed.  But as she watched she realized the hawk’s circles were slowly growing tighter and closer.  The hawk’s vantage point allowed it to see everything.  It had the advantage of broad vision.

 

The hare was focused on its own progression over the snowy landscape.  It seemed unaware of its surroundings.  She wondered if she should try and scare it off in order to save it.  The hare’s point of view did not afford it the luxury of the big picture.

 

The hawk dove.  The hare darted to the side.  It was more aware than she had thought.  The hawk followed the hare’s changeable course.  The hare was too fast, too unpredictable.  The hawk rose and fell in a predatory spiral while the hare kept to its defensive escape route.  The movements were mesmerizing.

 

Then the hare stopped.  The hawk seemed nearly as surprised by this as she was.  It drew back as the hare pushed up from its huddled stance.  The hare was still, its white fur barely perceptible against the snow. 

 

The hawk hung above the hare for a time.  It did not dive or swoop.  It merely circled watching its prey.  The hare did not move.

 

She gasped as the hawk dove one final time.  The hare pressed itself to the ground and the hawk pulled up back into the wide open sky.  It made its way higher, becoming a black dot against blue sky.  The hare continued its interrupted trek across the field into the underbrush at the forest’s edge.

 

There was a calm in the aftermath.  She replayed the ballet of predator and prey in her mind.  It was one that both animals had surely participated in before.  This had been different. The prey had stood its ground and the predator had backed down.  It was a draw.

 

In the dazzling white of the winter morning it became clear.  The world did not contain forgone conclusions.  The expected outcome should not be assumed.  The world was constantly reborn.  Faith was constantly renewed.  Anything was possible.