Aki and I are back at the mountain meadow accompanied by her other two humans. Everyone but Aki has a berry-picking bucket. It’s not raining but the sky is an almost uniform shade of grade and cloud fragments race long an eastern mountain ridge.
When one of us to throws her Frisbee, Aki tears off after it, growling as if it is a robber. If the Frisbee lands in a field of tall grass, the little poodle-mix porpoises after it, returning soaked to the skin.
After picking more than a gallon of blueberries, the three humans follow Aki back to the trailhead. Minutes from the car, an adult bald eagle flies to within twenty feet of Aki, circles, and flies low over her again. I wonder what would have happened if the little dog hadn’t been standing right next to me during the eagle’s second pass. I doubt that the big predator was after our buckets of blueberries.