Stillwater Diary, January 22, 2019
We’re back home, and happy to be here. It’s pretty cold, although compared to New England thirty degrees is downright balmy.
The dogs, as always, had a wonderful time. Chloe played fetch with her beat-up, twisted old Frisbee the whole way. Here she is waiting for me to throw it:
Biskit stayed close, as you’ll see. The dog who stays closest gets to pose for the most pictures—and also gets the most treats. Guess which one Biskit cares about?
As always, the Ogre supervises the woods with his friendly expression. He’s a good ogre, we’ve decided, and protects us. He must be doing a good job, because I haven’t managed to hurt myself on the rocks yet!
Jesse was off on his own by this point. I’m a little worried he’s found every mountain lion and coyote kill in the woods, and is helping himself to the leavings. He was sick once from a nasty deer leg, and I’m worried he’ll do it again. Oh, the pleasures of country living!
It’s getting late in the day, as you can see by the shadows. We try to leave the place to the real animals between dusk and dawn, which is when predators like to do their hunting. I sleep well knowing they’re out there under the moon, going about their secret business in the dark.