Life and Death and the Edge Between
January 18, 2020 This morning began rather bizarrely, unless you own hunting dogs and live wrapped in Vermont fir forests like I do. Before even sipping my first coffee, my dog Charlie, a Springer Spaniel, gave me a freshly killed squirrel. He didn't want to give it up and he was proud of himself, but a bowl of dogfood beckoned him and he was a good boy. I, having gotten similar gifts throughout my lifetime from both dogs and cats, knew better than to lose my composure and instead thanked him, exchanging the squirrel for a special treat. Though grateful I was not. I would like to say that I got out a shovel and buried the poor thing, but no, I did not. There's a good foot of snow or more so instead I tossed it deeply into the woods where I can see recent prints from the fisher (cat). Perhaps providing a meal for a hungry predator. I did apologize to the poor squirrel, a male, said a prayer, and wondered if that would keep all the other squirrels away from the bird feeders this ...
