Wild Nature – Page 3 – Karen's New York Love Affair

Bears a-huffing and a-climbing

The mystery of the bear poo was solved on Tuesday! I was coming back from a run, along the road by the outhouses, heading toward the barn to get some mouse bait. As the clearing by the barn came into view, I saw four shapes on the grass. It took a few moments for my brain to process what they were. I’d just seen some cows outside my gate, so at first my mind compared the shapes to cows and said No, Not Cows. Then I thought of sheep, because the shape was kind of sheep-like and my mind was still thinking domesticated animals. The biggest creature was a light brown, with a black snout, and looked kind of sheep-like! Then finally I realized it was a mama bear with three black cubs! Wow! I said Wow a couple times, and by then the four of them ran up the hill into the woods.

It must have been a repeat of what my friend Munro saw near here earlier in the summer, because I could hear and see some of the cubs scrabbling up a tree. The mama bear made a lot of huffing noises, telling me to clear out! I watched for a few more seconds, then got the bait from the barn. I peeked out the barn window, trying to see the bears up the hill, but I could only see trees. When I went back outside into the clearing where I’d first seen the bears, I could still hear mama bear huffing at me. So I retreated back to the house. I could even hear her huffing from the back deck outside my bedroom while I was doing my post-run yoga, and now and then the sound of a cub climbing around in the tree as dusk came down the hill.

It was such a wonderful surprise, and I’ve been looking forward to writing and sharing it with you, dear blog readers. The next day I went over there and I found a lot of disturbed earth under the tree I think the cubs went up. I’d seen one climb up to the very top of a tall fir (maybe 60 feet tall?). I couldn’t see any scratch marks, probably because there were so many branches that they could use for climbing. But I did find a big pile of bear poo in front of the barn, as well as the several piles I’d seen before on the road! So this solved the mystery of the big poo and the little poo. Clearly there was a big mama bear and some little baby bears pooping on my road!

As I’ve mentioned before, bears are associated with the west part of the wheel, and a sign of the fall. The fall equinox is next Tuesday, so this visit might be a precursor to the coming of fall. But it was also the 9th anniversary of the death of my father, and I think that he might have sent these bears as a treat for me. I just completed the final installation of my cell phone power booster the day before, and received four wonderful phone calls this day too. What a magical day. A lot of love and support from the universe, from family, friends, bears, and hot guys! Thanks, Dad. May your spirit be at peace.

Q: Does a bear poop in the woods?

A: Yes, and so can you!

Okay, you’re probably thinking I’ve totally flipped out, if you didn’t already think this after some of my previous entries about mouse turds, including “The mystery of the dead animal in my living room,” and the moving song “Blue turd on my window sill.”

But the fact is, being close to nature means being close to the full cycle of natural processes, which mostly involve birth, eating, eliminating, reproduction, and death. And when you spend time in nature, the signs of the elimination process are all around. Yesterday, when I was out for a run at Monkey Valley, I came across some magnificent signs of bear elimination. Call me crazy if you want, but I love finding bear scat. I found two piles, and one was a lot larger than the other, which might indicate that two bears of different sizes have been in the vicinity. Or maybe it was the same bear, having a big poop and then a little poop after. I noticed that both piles had undigested rose hips in them, which indicates the furry creature has been attracted to the bright red seed pods, which seem remarkably red and vibrant this year.

But what does this have to do with you, and specifically, with you pooping in the woods? One of the questions people who have never been on a vision fast ask is how to handle this basic biological function. Obviously, when you’re out in the wild on your solo, there won’t be a flush toilet, and not even an outhouse. This means you have the wonderful opportunity to experience what your ancestors did. Poop in the woods! Or in the desert, as the case may be…

We like to practice no-trace camping as part of our honouring of the land during the vision fast. This means packing out your TP, and covering the signs of any biological waste you might be leaving behind. So dig a shallow hole, and when you’re finished your elimination process, cover the hole with leaves and dirt. If there are rocks in the area where you are fasting, you can put a rock over the little pile to mark it, so that you know not to dig in that same spot again.

There is an ancient familiarity about squatting outside to perform this everyday function. The position is actually more comfortable for our body than a toilet, though if you’re out of shape it can be a strain on the quadriceps at first. Women out on a fast will get a lot more practice with this than men, learning to squat and pee too, without peeing on clothing or shoes. That’s a practice you will have a chance to master during your fasting time, especially if you drink the recommended amount of water!

A final note about biological processes for women out on a fast. It often happens that women’s cycles shift when out in nature, and your moon time might come while you are on your fast. We recommend bringing the supplies you’ll need in case this does happen. Pack the used supplies out with you, along with your TP. If you’re in bear country, you might want to keep your used supplies in a plastic bag some distance from your sleeping place, and use water and a bandanna or disposable wipes to keep clean. Or moss, if you’re in the woods.

Having your moon time while on a fast can deepen your connection with the sacred in nature, and help you feel part of the natural cycles of nature. Perhaps you will be inspired to create a ceremony to honour your moon time, bleeding directly onto the earth or making an offering of your blood in a ceremonial way.

Being out on the land during the vision fast, attending to our natural biological processes in ways that are more like the way our ancestors did, connects us to the 120,000+ life times of the human race, and helps us know that we are not alone. While our single life is finite, we are connected to a powerful, enduring life force through our human and pre-human gene pool. This is something that pooping in the woods can teach us.

What, more cows!?

It’s been a while since I wrote about some mysterious winter visitors that I thought could be wild horses. A friend had recently told me about encountering wild horses near Merritt in the 60s, and the idea of wild horses is very romantic, so I guess I wanted the creatures at Monkey Valley to be wild horses. I’d seen a herd of these beautiful creatures after my first vision fast in southern Wyoming, and loved the idea that they might have been wintering on my ranch.

What happened was my mom, sister, and I were at the ranch for the first time since winter, celebrating my mom’s birthday. I noticed some droppings near the house that looked like horse apples. Round, dry droppings, all around the outhouse and near the steps to my back deck. So we tracked the droppings, following them south down the valley. There were lots of droppings, making it seem that a small herd spent the winter here.

Finally, near the south end of the valley we came upon the herd. It was cows. What, cows again!? The poor things had gotten locked in when I left Monkey Valley in December. They had managed to survive the winter by eating dried grass under trees, where the snow didn’t fall. Unlike horses, cows don’t know how to paw at the snow to get to the grass underneath. So it was very lucky that there wasn’t too much snow this winter, and the cows could find some grass to eat. And it was the dryness of their diet that made their droppings look like horse apples instead of cow pies. Yum, apple pie, anyone?

I called the Douglas Lake ranch, and my cowboy friend Steve came out with another cowboy the next day. They were rigged up on horseback, and they herded the four cows out the gate and up to a small pen they had erected on Dillard Road, where they gave the cows some hay. Once they were fed, they loaded three of the cows into a trailer. One cow, which my mom thought was the leader of the small herd, collapsed after she was fed, as if now that she’d led the herd to safety, she couldn’t take another step. It was fascinating to watch the cowboys use their horses and ropes to drag the last cow into the trailer. Even though all the cows were skinny from their sparse winter diet, that’s still a lot of weight!

I later learned from Steve that the downed cow gave birth within the next few days, and another cow did too. How lucky that they were rescued just in time! How lucky that my mom and sister and I went to Monkey Valley for my mom’s birthday!

Live entertainment from the Monkey Valley porch

Moose in the meadow

Last Saturday morning I was sitting on the porch having tea and brekkie, looking out over the creek now and then but mostly reading a good mystery novel. I heard some splashing sounds to my left, and looked up. Lo and behold, a young male moose emerged from the willows by the creek. He had fuzzy antlers, with about two prongs on each. What a wonderful surprise!

I watched him for about 10 minutes, as he meandered, chomping on willows, and slowly made his way to the other side of the valley. Now that’s a breakfast show! I had recently commented to a friend that the valley is perfect for moose, with a lot of water and willows, and I was surprised I didn’t see them more often. Now here one was!

Deer and chipmunks entertain more often

The next day a deer was browsing through the meadow while I ate my breakfast on the porch. Nice! And then Donald and I were entertained by a little chipmunk eating flowers for breakfast, tail twitching, at the other end of the porch.

Power booster woes

The day after that was a Monday, and I needed to go to Kamloops yet again, for some more cable. I was still troubleshooting the power booster for the cell phone, working out the glitches. It turned out last time the connector in one end of the cable that connected to the indoor dome antenna got gibbled, and the copper wire wasn’t meeting the part where it is supposed to pass the signal into the power booster. It took a trip to Kamloops to figure this one out, and get a new connecter put on. Then I realized the connector on the cable from the roof antenna was also gibbled, and not meeting with the power antenna. I stripped the wire and inserted the bare copper into the power booster, just to see if it would work. This is when I finally discovered that the distance from the inside antenna to the outside antenna wasn’t long enough. Previously, the lights on the power booster always showed green (even when they weren’t getting a signal, which is not how it is supposed to work according to the manual). Now that I had both antennas firmly connected to the power booster, both lights were red. This meant another trip to Kamloops to get a longer length of cable.

I tried three places in Merritt, but none of them carry this type of cable. So on Monday, I went to Kamloops (for about the fifth or sixth time, at a four hour round trip each time). I got 30 feet of RG58 cable. The kind people at Walco Radio put new connectors on, and also gave me some connectors for the cable from the outside antenna. Steve even showed me how to put the connector on, step by step, and sold me a tool to use to do it. I have learned more than I would have though possible from this odyssey into power booster installation. Most people just take it home, plug the ends together, and it works! Those poor saps never get to learn a thing…

Lightning and thunder and forest fires, oh my!

So anyway, I drove home Monday, arriving home in a rain storm at about 7:30 PM. As I was driving down the last hill before my house I noticed puffs of white on the hillside across the creek. Streaming smoke was coming out of the forest. I’d seen a few flashes of lightning as I was driving home, and figured one must have struck here and started a fire. Yikes!

My first thought was to grab Donald and my laptop and get out of there. But even before that, I stopped right there on the road and called 911 to report the fire. They gave me the number to call, but I couldn’t get through. The message said there were high call volumes due to the large number of forest fires, and to call back later.

So I called my sister Kim to let her know I might be in imminent danger, drove to the house, and got Donald and the laptop, all the while checking on the fire. It didn’t seem to be getting bigger but it wasn’t getting smaller either. It was between 500 and 1000 metres from the house, at the north end of the valley, and if it spread it would cut off the road access to the house, trapping me there. So I figured I’d better spend the night in a motel in Merritt, just to be on the safe side. I decided I had a bit of time, since the fire wasn’t moving towards the house. So I went through the house, gathering up more stuff that I would want if the house burned to the ground. My camping gear. Some family photos. My favourite knife from Cutco, which my sister Kirsten sold me years ago. My grandma’s silverware. And yes, the power booster and all its related parts. If the house burned down I was going to get my money back!

So about an hour later Donald and I left Monkey Valley. As we drove past the fire in the darkness I saw flames amidst the trees, which I had been unable to see earlier. I stopped at the Kentucky-Alleyne campground to let the attendant there know about the fire. Once I got out to Highway 5A I was able to get through to the forest fire line (*5555) and reported the fire. A little while later someone from the Merritt fire fighting department called me back, and said he would send a crew out first thing in the morning.

The next morning at about 8:30 he called me at the motel and said they’d sent out a helicopter with two guys and some firefighting equipment. Another two guys drove in by truck. They were using a bucket to get water from a nearby lake (via the chopper) and would probably finish by noon. So it was safe to go home.

I got home that afternoon, and another storm was underway, sending down buckets of water, with lots of thunder and lightning. Donald and I sat on the porch under cover, enjoying the storm. And once the rain stopped, I ate dinner on the porch and watched another two helicopters haul buckets of water south of Monkey Valley, near Missezula Lake. They went back and forth for about an hour, fighting another fire nearby. What a dinner show!

Two days later, after another storm, I drove out of Monkey Valley to return to Vancouver. And what did I see but another forest fire on the hill south of Missezula Lake! Another call to *5555. Whew! I wonder what will happen next time at Monkey Valley!

Bizarre cat ladders

P.S. I just have to mention a blog I came across, devoted entirely to cat ladders! According to a related interview in the LA Weekly Art Blog, the Germans, Swiss, and Swedish folks are the most crazy about freedom for cats via architectural deformation in the form of bizarre cat ladders.

Madame Moose strides again

On a run at Monkey Valley recently, a magical thing happened. I was running up the road, and saw a magnificent female moose in the meadow beside the road. She saw me too, we looked at each other for a little, and then she moved away up the hill.

I felt awe and pleasure at this rare contact with Madame Moose, and continued on my run up the hill happily, keeping a lookout in case I saw her again. Sure enough, when I got up near the top gate I saw her up by the gate, and she saw me again too. I backed off a little, so she wouldn’t feel trapped or threatened, and then I thought I would take advantage of this opportunity to ask her a question.

“Should I sell Monkey Valley?” I asked her. I was feeling very discouraged about the amount of time I’d been spending on tending to the ranch this summer, and feeling burdened by it.

She said, “Don’t sell this land. Don’t sweat the small stuff.” Or as my brother-in-law Geoff Price told me, “Don’t sweat the petty stuff, don’t pet the sweaty stuff”!

Then she hopped the fence in a single stride. This seemed to confirm what she had said to me. To take the small stuff in stride.

A note to the poster who claimed to see a dead moose caught in the barbed wire fence on my south fence line: Not! The fence has been there thirty-plus years, and the moose and deer all know where it is. As I saw with my own eyes, these magnificent ungulates take such things in their stride.

I have not been so equanimous, and decided to probe the universe’s plans for me by putting Monkey Valley on the market, in spite of the moose’s advice (or, if you prefer, my own inner guidance as prompted by the moose encounter). I am feeling the call to have more freedom in my life, and keeping two homes has been feeling like a burden. Much as I love the quiet and privacy of Monkey Valley, I feel a stronger pull to the city, and it is a strain to keep both going. So I’m going to see what happens. If the place sells before snow flies, I will take that as a sure sign it is time to move on to new pastures. If it doesn’t sell, I’ll keep Monkey Valley and make a new plan.

In either case, I will continue to offer vision fasts. Either at Monkey Valley, or on the land near Monkey Valley.

Black bear safe from exhaust fumes

Good news! I wrote previously about the trail expansion on the Twin Bridges trail and my concern that regular vehicle traffic would be permitted on my favourite running trail, disturbing a magical pocket of wilderness and the creatures who live there, including the black bear I spotted on my run a couple weeks ago.

Last week I spoke to Heidi Walsh at the Lower Seymour Conservation Reserve, and asked her what was going on with the trail. She immediately allayed my fears that it would be opened to public vehicles. The reason the trail had been widened so much in some places, including cutting down trees, was that the bridge replacement project requires it temporarily (no comfort to the felled trees, I’m sure). The 50-foot sections of bridge they will be trucking in necessitate that the road be widened in some of the turns. But afterwards they will be rehabilitating the road as much as possible, planting at the road sides to make it narrower again. She acknowledged that the current state of the road was a bit over the top! (That is, a wide, white gravelled, ugly expanse where there used to be a quaint mountain trail.) I was really glad to learn that the planners of this project were sensitive to the aesthetics of the trail and would try to return it to its previous state. Plus very relieved that a bunch of cars would not be coming to pollute the crystal mountain air with exhaust fumes!

Heidi also told me that they were going to cut down three more trees, but the trees contained nests so they were waiting until the nesting season was over. Wow, that’s great! That they are waiting, I mean. And aware, and concerned about the wild life. I also found out that these trees are small deciduous trees, not the two majestic pines that I visit at the Homestead trailhead. Whew!

I am so glad I made that phone call. My worries and concerns about something that wasn’t actually going to happen (the destruction of a wild, peaceful place that I treasure) motivated me to make the call. And what I learned was that the Metro Vancouver planning folks are aware of the impact of their actions on the wilderness, and take care to minimize the effects, even to the extent of waiting until the young birds have fledged!

This makes me feel more hopeful about the future of our planet, and appreciative of my hometown of Vancouver. After all, this is the city that spawned Greenpeace, the David Suzuki Foundation, and Adbusters! My initial response of sadness, anxiety, and a desire to protect the bears led to a positive discovery about reality, people, and my city.

Good News for a Change, by David Suzuki and Holly Dressel, gives many inspiring stories of ways people care for our planet. If you would like to experience another positive outcome from a distressing situation, check out this hilarious video on You Tube:

Dave Carroll’s United Breaks Guitars

Wild Vancouver nights

Last night I went for another run and skinny dip in the Seymour River. This time I went down the Twin Bridges trail, which is closed for trail work. I felt worried as I ran down the trail and saw that they are widening it and gravelling it. The sign said they would be replacing the bridge as well. I was worried that they were planning to allow vehicular traffic on this wild woody trail, bringing noise and air pollution to disturb the magnificent stillness of the forest. I was also concerned that the traffic would disturb the wildlife. And that this would be one more enroachment on a wonderful wild place that we are fortunate to enjoy near the heart of Vancouver—it’s just an 11 minute drive to the forest and river, from my house in East Van.

I thought about the arguments I would make against this work they are doing. That we need wild, untouched places. We evolved as a species among other animals in the wilderness, and we need wild places to go to. In fact, we need the wild places to be there even if we don’t go to them! I worried about this for most of my run, and noted the web site and email address to use to raise my concerns.

The site says:

Twin Bridges Replacement Project The first bridge to cross the Seymour River was built in 1907-08 and was dismantled in 1992. It carried a water main across the river and provided east-west access for pedestrians. A second bridge was built in 1926 and is the only bridge remaining on the site. This bridge will be removed and replaced this summer and will thus continue to serve as an important southerly crossing for both utility operations and public recreation.

Huh. That sounds pretty innocuous, but are they going to allow general traffic on the trail? I will still need to check this out by contacting them.

So after I memorized the web address and decided to follow up on my concerns, I was nearing the end of my run and I stopped to give Reiki to two of my favourite trees near the top of the Homestead Trail. I was worried that these two friends might be cut down, the way that a whole stretch of trees had been lower down on the Twin Bridges trail. It had hurt my heart to see the trees gone, laying as stripped logs beside the road.

As I gave Reiki to the two trees that I have often visited with and used to stretch against, I heard a twig breaking. I thought it must be a cyclist, though that didn’t really make sense since it was almost dark. I turned back onto the main trail, and guess what I saw… A black bear loping across the trail! What a blessing. What a confirmation that these woods are precious and I must do what I can to help protect them. As I paused by the path, looking in the direction where he had gone, I heard bear rustling around in the nearby underbrush, and sent some Reiki to him too. I was so happy to have this brief encounter with bear people.

When I got back to Lynn Valley Road and started the drive home, another magical visitation occurred as a long-tailed weasel crossed the road in front of me and then disappeared into the woods. And as I turned onto the road leading to the freeway entrance I smelled skunk. What an amazing city, to have so much beauty, with the buildings and people and machinery all coexisting with the awesome natural world that cradles Vancouver.

To top off the evening, the Vancouver International Fireworks were happening when I got home, and I did my post-run yoga on the deck overlooking the Burrard Inlet, watching the fireworks erupting over the city, and the stars emerging overhead. Wild Vancouver night!

Blue turd on the window sill

A recent discovery at Monkey Valley inspired me to write this homage to John Denver:

Blue turd on the counter makes me happy
Blue turds in my bed can make me cry
Blue turd means the mouse has found the poison
Blue turd means the mouse is going to die

I was very moved by this ditty, although not as much as by the original song by Mr. Denver.

Wild women run with bears

The absolute best thing about Monkey Valley is running with the bears. (The worst thing is the cell reception, but I won’t go into that now.) It has not happened often that I’ve had the chance to run with bears here—only a few times in nine years—but it happened today.

I went for a nice, long Sunday run, heading out along the old dirt road, overgrown with grass, on the other side of the creek. I forded the swollen springtime creek by climbing along an old fence that has half fallen over, and followed the road up to the gate at the south-east edge of my property—a 20-minute run from the house to the gate, all on my own land!

This is one of the things that drew me to look for a remote property—the desire to run on trails where no cars were—breathing exhaust fumes while out for a run is the worst!

I climbed through the wooden rails of the gate, and followed the track up to Galena Creek Road. Along this stretch I thought about bears, wondering if they were finished hibernating. I realized it was a very warm May day—surely they were out of hibernation, and had been for a while!

At Galena Creek Road I headed north-east, going uphill past the 14K marker, and decided to go as far as the 15K marker. At that point I greeted the trees, offered Reiki to the land and all her creatures (as I usually do at the turn-around point of a run in the woods), and headed back.

On the way back I was watching out for a marshy section, which has been a breeding ground for mosquitoes. I’d found it on a medicine walk a few years ago, which had begun with a moose sighting, followed by a remarkable, magical encounter with a bear. So bear was really on my mind today, and looking ahead from the top of a hill, I saw a bear friend looking for greens in the clearing that led to my land!

I immediately stopped at the crest of the hill, and sat down in the middle of the road to watch the bear. He was some distance away—probably about 200 yards—but I had a good view from the top of the hill. I don’t think the bear noticed me. The wind was blowing from Missezula Lake to the bear and then to me. I could smell the lake smell, and I heard grouse drumming out their spring mating dance. In fact, I accidentally ran one off the road during this same run.

But now I was competely absorbed and fascinated by the bear. He was black, and looked quite small, perhaps because of the distance. I wondered if he might be a cub, but there didn’t seem to be any other bears around. He was browsing for new grass to eat—still a sparse commodity in this neck of the woods in May. After a minute or two he ambled east, crossing the road well ahead of me. He looked very thin in profile, and seemed to have a long tail. But what struck me the most was he looked like a human in a bear suit. The way he walked, with purpose and a sense of direction, conveyed the sense of him as an entity with his own business to attend to. Usually when I’ve seen bears they have been running away from me, which is very different from this one who was simply going about his business.

I watched until he was out of sight, and stayed there for a minute or two more, hoping he might wander back into view. How I longed for more time with the bear!

When he didn’t reappear I resumed my homeward run, looking for tracks or scat when I got to where the bear had been. I couldn’t see any signs, though my own tracks from running were plainly visible in the gravel of the logging road. The poor thing must have lost a lot of weight over the winter, to step so lightly that he left no tracks. I climbed a nearby hill on the side of the road where he’d disappeared, hoping for another glimpse, but didn’t see him. So I offered him some Reiki for protection, and the prayer that he would find lots to eat this spring.

Then I headed home, feeling blessed by this encounter with wildness.

We evolved together with the wild animals of the world, and I believe we need their company to feel complete. We are lonely without them.

There are so few of our wild friends left. Don’t hurt them! Stop hunting bears. Stop hunting the wild creatures.

Winter visitors

I just got back from Monkey Valley, where I had a chance to find out how the place fared for the winter. I found evidence of some horses (or so I thought) in the yard, and the corpse of a tiny shrew in the power room. Other than that, no signs of mayhem from the animal world. No mouse or rat invasions, and no insect invasions either. It must have been a quiet winter! I do feel sad about the poor little shrew, though.

There was the usual water damage due to freezing. In spite of my best precautions, which I have detailed elsewhere, there were a number of casualties to the plumbing system. After a day or two of seeming to operate correctly, the kitchen tap started spazzing out water in all directions. The upstairs toilet handle would not flush, though flushing by pulling on the mechanism inside the tank worked. One of the showers leaked ceaselessly on the first night I was there (with my Mom and sister Katherine), until, cursing, I attacked it with a screwdriver. For some reason loosening the plate around the handle caused the showerhead to stop dripping, even though I hadn’t got it open to fiddle with the workings of the thing. And, two small leaks in valves in the power room. I see another big plumbing bill in my near future. Aargh!

But this is life. As I’ve recently learned from two of my Diamond Approach teachers, these things happen to us no matter how realized we are. It is not my fault, not your fault. The only thing that changes on our journey of soul maturation is the way we experience the problems, and the way we handle them. I personally enjoy venting my frustration through swearing, but maybe there’s a different way… Such as sensing how I actually feel in my body, and expanding my awareness to know that I am a vast and regal being… Or whatever.

The good news is Monkey Valley made it through the winter, and the damages are actually pretty minor. Happy Spring!

I’ll tell you more about the “horses” next time.