Not just for the birds
Went on a short walk with the dogs today. Following them across a freshly snowed baseball field, I noticed their prints paralleling each other, in sets of four paws, like words on a page. Morse code. Tab (if you're a guitarist). Braille in the negative. Then I noticed the two dogs' sets were mirror images …
In some coincidence, by one, I've found myself reading a lot about the Arctic lately. I'd always known it was up there, waiting. Well, not really. It never needed me. But I'd always felt a little guilty somehow. Ignorance. Maybe that accounts for why. Anyway, first was Barry Lopez's Arctic Dreams, which took a while …
"The short man followed, limping, terrific, crablike." Nearly through reading 900 pages of Faulkner short stories, and can't get rid of the sentence above. For some reason. Yesterday, while doing research for a story I'm writing, I came across a Cree word that any bird hunter would appreciate: “Papêtikwâskopaniow.” I wish I could pretend I …
I got a sick queasy feeling deep in my stomach as we detoured and drove into rural Council, Idaho. The curbside spot right out front of the local veterinary office was the exact spot where we'd parked the bright red Jeep two years before and it was empty and waiting for us. Just like the …
Do you believe in miracles? --Al Michaels, 1980 And I, whose childhood Is a forgotten boredomFeel like a child Who comes on a sceneOf adult reconciling, And can understand nothingBut the unusual laughter,And starts to be happy--Philip Larkin, from "Coming" The animals are endlessly regenerated, and yet they are finite. I am more powerful than …