maggies_lens (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
maggies_lens) wrote2007-11-21 12:30 am
maggies_lens) wrote2007-11-21 12:30 am
Entry tags:
Answers.com piece, not entering, just doing because it looks like fun and I want a headache
The sun had barely risen above the horizon and already I was pulling into the car park of the National Forest. The early morning mist provided the perfect backdrop to the sound of magpies, and the scent of Eucalypt and forest mulch rose to form the backdrop to the magpies morning chorus. I'd thrown on my hiking gear and brushed my haor back into a ponytail with just a lick and a promise, I took far more care with filling my backpack with water and a snack... and a few slices of halva as a treat. The latter was not so much for me as for my dog Sebastion, a golden labrador who loved our early morning hikes almost as much as he loved the odd sweet treat.
Wrapping the dog lead around my waist I set out, Seb calmly leading the way, his golden form sliding through the mist without disturbing it, as one with nature, a perfect state of ataraxia. We made our way over the first ridge, warming up muscles cramped by suburbia and it's inherit restrictions. Far below us sparkled the lazy green sun-dappled river running through the deep green of the valley. Seb stopped and looked out over the valley with me, then sneezed and shot off to the left to where he knew the wombat hole was. He'd always done this, I put it down to his praxis and walked on; I knew he'd soon catch up with me further down the trail, great golden otter tail beating out his happiness and contentment with the world; he was in the woods, with his human, and the scents were sharp, what more could a dog want?
Such freedom was contraband in our suburban lives, after all, according to the laws of the land my dog and I were a dangerous combined entity out to cause mayhem to the natural world. But nothing could be further from the truth. Seb loved all things living, he'd often be found swimming in the lriver with ducklings and their mothers passing within inches of his nose, or romping through the bushland where possums would stare down calmly at this great bundle of gold and cream who played and explored so far below them. Once he even brought to me a baby possum who had lost it's mother. He carried it so gently, with such tenderness, that the little animal hardly even had a raised heartbeat. He'd do the same with the little leverets he caught out in the paddocks. And on one memorable occasion, he escorted a dumped baby goat with a broken leg to my side. But dogs are considered the natural enemy of the natural world by the Greens, and with that overwhelming zeitgeist, it was only in the most remote areas Seb and I could be really free.
Seb always knew before I did when there was wildlife ahead. It was like he was mantic, he could sense their very lifeforce ahead. His big, square golden head would rise, he'd drink in the wind as if it were sapid and his otter tail would beat out the message 'mum, get your camera ready, there's furry stuff ahead!'. He was never wrong. He would look down the semilunar valley and his whole being would radiate happiness and well being. This was his kingdom and he it's gentle golden overlord. And I? I was his dear squire, carrying refreshments and there to provide good company and belly rubs.
We'd hike until we reached the bottom the valley. There, we'd sit on the stones that the kangaroo's have shaped over untold eons into perfectly smooth couches. We'd drink and eat and just be together. Some days, especially when he was a pup, Seb would swim in the brillient blue. Other's he'd sit by me and calmly watch the world go by.
When the sun would reach it's zenith, then we knew it was time to head back. The bush gave me such peace, and when I'd return to the 'normal' world I'd miss it more than ever. Each hike would bring me closer to understanding that hidden song I could feel within the woods. It changed the way I acted in the 'real' world, always I would be seeking to find the link back to the natural, in all I did.
I thought it was somewhere outside of me, something I was not a part of. I longed for it, this sense of oneness and completion. When Seb's cancer no longer allowed him to walk with me, I'd sit with him and speak of hikes past. When that last trip to the cold metal table came, I hummed to him. The song that came was one I never heard before, it was the song of the woods. Seb's eyes never left mine even as they dulled into the final sleep, and in that serendipitous moment realised the truth. That song was within me all along, I'd merely needed to fnd the soloist to accompy me. I took his ashes and hiked up the hill the next morning.
As the magpies carroled in the new day, I tossed them into the wind. They floated out into the valley. And through my sobs I heard the thump thump thump of an golden otter-tail......
Wrapping the dog lead around my waist I set out, Seb calmly leading the way, his golden form sliding through the mist without disturbing it, as one with nature, a perfect state of ataraxia. We made our way over the first ridge, warming up muscles cramped by suburbia and it's inherit restrictions. Far below us sparkled the lazy green sun-dappled river running through the deep green of the valley. Seb stopped and looked out over the valley with me, then sneezed and shot off to the left to where he knew the wombat hole was. He'd always done this, I put it down to his praxis and walked on; I knew he'd soon catch up with me further down the trail, great golden otter tail beating out his happiness and contentment with the world; he was in the woods, with his human, and the scents were sharp, what more could a dog want?
Such freedom was contraband in our suburban lives, after all, according to the laws of the land my dog and I were a dangerous combined entity out to cause mayhem to the natural world. But nothing could be further from the truth. Seb loved all things living, he'd often be found swimming in the lriver with ducklings and their mothers passing within inches of his nose, or romping through the bushland where possums would stare down calmly at this great bundle of gold and cream who played and explored so far below them. Once he even brought to me a baby possum who had lost it's mother. He carried it so gently, with such tenderness, that the little animal hardly even had a raised heartbeat. He'd do the same with the little leverets he caught out in the paddocks. And on one memorable occasion, he escorted a dumped baby goat with a broken leg to my side. But dogs are considered the natural enemy of the natural world by the Greens, and with that overwhelming zeitgeist, it was only in the most remote areas Seb and I could be really free.
Seb always knew before I did when there was wildlife ahead. It was like he was mantic, he could sense their very lifeforce ahead. His big, square golden head would rise, he'd drink in the wind as if it were sapid and his otter tail would beat out the message 'mum, get your camera ready, there's furry stuff ahead!'. He was never wrong. He would look down the semilunar valley and his whole being would radiate happiness and well being. This was his kingdom and he it's gentle golden overlord. And I? I was his dear squire, carrying refreshments and there to provide good company and belly rubs.
We'd hike until we reached the bottom the valley. There, we'd sit on the stones that the kangaroo's have shaped over untold eons into perfectly smooth couches. We'd drink and eat and just be together. Some days, especially when he was a pup, Seb would swim in the brillient blue. Other's he'd sit by me and calmly watch the world go by.
When the sun would reach it's zenith, then we knew it was time to head back. The bush gave me such peace, and when I'd return to the 'normal' world I'd miss it more than ever. Each hike would bring me closer to understanding that hidden song I could feel within the woods. It changed the way I acted in the 'real' world, always I would be seeking to find the link back to the natural, in all I did.
I thought it was somewhere outside of me, something I was not a part of. I longed for it, this sense of oneness and completion. When Seb's cancer no longer allowed him to walk with me, I'd sit with him and speak of hikes past. When that last trip to the cold metal table came, I hummed to him. The song that came was one I never heard before, it was the song of the woods. Seb's eyes never left mine even as they dulled into the final sleep, and in that serendipitous moment realised the truth. That song was within me all along, I'd merely needed to fnd the soloist to accompy me. I took his ashes and hiked up the hill the next morning.
As the magpies carroled in the new day, I tossed them into the wind. They floated out into the valley. And through my sobs I heard the thump thump thump of an golden otter-tail......