Oh, dear

The hikes the last few days have worn me out. I was exhausted in yesterday’s class and fatigued all day today. I had no energy to do anything, even with three sets of dog eyes watching my every movement and waiting for clues that meant I was going outside for a walk: putting on my shoes, dangling my car keys, putting on my floppy hat.

I felt more tired and more weak as the day progressed. I didn’t even have the energy to check on the vegetable garden. I probably caught either a flu or cold virus from a classmate last night.

The dogs watched me forlorn from a safe distance—they don’t trust me when I have the water hose in my hand—and followed me all over the house when I was inside. I never had a moment to myself.

It drizzled briefly in the early afternoon, enough to wet the grass. Even the short rain wasn't in the forecast.

By 3pm I couldn’t take their anticipation anymore. “Let’s Go!” I yelled, and in no time all three dogs were beside themselves with glee and knocking each other over to get to the front door.

I didn’t drive far, just Hunter Canyon. I had enough energy to walk the lower trail out and back for 1.5 miles, skirting the main road due to dirt bike traffic, until I came to the Kelly Springs campsite popular with target shooters.

There was a lot of new brass on the ground. I stopped here, picked up most of the brass…and more brass. There was so much there my jeans pockets were getting too full, making walking difficult. The dogs sat in the shade and watched.

Sammy found a mule deer leg and was crunching on it to pass the time. (Mule deer hunting season opened 24 October) I thought he was chewing on a twig until I came up close. He didn’t want me to take the bones from him when we left to walk back to the SUV, so I carried the deer leg, hoof and all, with me down the trail. It was still a fresh leg, with red bloody muscle fibers visible from the exposed tendons. I would have looked weird had anyone seen me with that deer leg in my hand, like a surrealistic photograph from the wild.

"Sorry, Ma'am, do you have a hunting license for that deer leg?"

The dogs enjoyed their venison bones all evening long. All three dogs got one joint which kept them busy. From every corner of the house I heard bone-crunching noises. The last time I brought home a deer leg Sara ate the entire leg. There was not even a thread of deer fur in the yard afterwards.