Sunday, April 7, 2019

As Seen On This Run

After a long day on the farm Saturday, I'm packing it in around 7 PM.  We leave the barn and Dax pretends to load into the car and takes off into the woods instead.  With little daylight left, I frantically look for him for almost an hour.

The smug look of one who's chased deer from one side of the lake to the other a few times.
It's been at least three weeks that I've been remiss about his daily runs.  #1- we've been ultra busy. #2- My left foot has either redeveloped another stress fracture or the arthritis has worsened making the throbbing pain keep me up at night. Running doesn't feel so hot anymore.
Losing my dog, I decide, feels worse.

Lunch break on Sunday.  We hit the trails.  No more excuses, besides... once the endorphins kick in after a couple miles, the pain stops. Right?

It's a warm day and genius decides that a mud hole is an appropriate spot to cool off.

I can stare at those white 'fesses' (French for adorable butt cheeks) forever.

We see a lot of mud.

And pass a lounging non venomous snake.  

The turtles that bail from their sunning logs scare the bejesus out of Dax.  He tries to process it.

Myriads of butterflies greet us.

Wildflowers too.  All these distractions have my Spidey senses dulled and I miss the water moccasin snake propped up on a log by an overflow pipe that I want to inspect for beaver meddling. By the time I see it, it's slithering down to me, I start back peddling and go no where on the muddy slope.  Dax is tethered to me and wants to run, but can't.  My running pack is half off because I'd been reaching around to put a stick a beaver gnawed stick in my pouch.  I drop my prize and grab my gun instead.  I may have gotten overzealous, but in spite of being Swiss cheesed, IT KEPT COMING, then it had the good sense to go do its death throes in the swamp.

Rattlesnakes give you the look of "you're banal, go around me", copperheads seem to say "you can't see me, you can't see me, I'm even holding my breath until you pass"... water moccasins treat you like you're from a rival gang on their turf.  

We seek higher ground and avoid the swamps.

Open water is safer.

The human at the end of the tether... she gets to go in, whether she wants to or not.

My little Einstein.

So much mischief behind those eyes.

Breathtaking views, or is that from the cardio?

The glaring stare of a puppy who'd been left behind.

One day little man, we will be three.

Incredible run with my trail partner and beauty seen all around. What doesn't kill you on the trail hitchhikes back with you.  I hate ticks...

It's like living in Jurassic Park sometimes.