March 2, 2012
RUNNING WITH THE DEVIL

We’ve been making a concerted effort to take Wilma out running several times per week.  The snow is deep and impassible without snowshoes, which gets her some great excercise when we are out after hares (she sinks up to her chest and has to bound through it with the force of a freight train).  However, since early January we’ve had our Skidoos up here with us, and have also made great use of the back trails into secluded lakes.  She powers along the skidoo trails, which are generally packed down from use, running in excess of 5 kilometres each way (10k round trip).  She seems to love it almost as  much as finding birds.  On straightaways and across frozen lakes she speeds on at around 50km/h, not her top speed, but pretty damn fast for the terrain covered. She has figured out the game fairly quickly and can hardly wait to take off.  She keeps pace ahead of us, adjusting her speed to ours.

Apart from roading her off an atv when she has structurally matured in another year or so, this exercise for her is hard to beat. I look forward to when the lakes and snow thaw and we can swim and hunt/hike hard through the lakes and forest, but I’ll definitely be missing winter come spring time.

Even after we’ve stopped and are unpacking the sled to set up our fishing gear, she’ll zoom around the tracks we’ve made in the snow.

February 16, 2012
GRIS ET BLANC

A long drive down Pine St. S to the point where it becomes impassable other than by foot. We were after lakers and snow shoe hare.

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February 1, 2012
IN THE QUIVERING FOREST, WHERE THE SHIVERING DOG RESTS

Wilma tracked this snowshoe hare through the deep snow filled thickets of birch and black spruce.  She has grown from this into a canine sort of lynx.  

It was a clean headshot, which she retrieved perfectly (although we let her hold onto it for a minute, she was so proud she might have burst).  

The pelt is in the freezer along with two others we have snared, waiting until I have enough to warrant tanning a batch of them.   They are impossibly soft, warm, and white.

The first hare we braised in a stew with

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December 17, 2011
SO LONG, SOUTHERN ONTARIO

He bid a long farewell to all of his friends,
He said I’m leaving town and I hope to begin
Something up north where the wind blows cold
I’ll be up there until I grow old.

All he had to his name was a suit case in hand
Five whole dollars and no place to land
Two shells in his rifle and a knife in his sack

- The Deep Dark Woods

A good three feet of snow on the ground greeted us.

The past week and half have been a complete whirrrrrrl.

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