In the forest canopy, a brace of eagles bicker like a music hall married couple. One of Aki’s other humans places her in the crotch of a destroyed spruce tree. The forces of decay have reduced it to a hulk of soft ochre-colored wood. Most of the forest is dusk dark but a shaft of morning light animates the spruce remnant and makes my little dog glow like a crowned saint.
The tree that forms Aki’s throne took hundreds of years to join the forest canopy and thicken to maturity. It bent to the fierce westerly winds and lived to offer roosting limbs to generations of eagles. Then one fall night, a wind with just the right strength and direction shattered the tree, reducing it to the stump that Aki now uses for a better view of the surrounding woods. She dislodges several chunks of softened tree flesh with her paws when she leaps to the ground.