Aki watches her people tie on masks outside the grocery store. She squeals in fear, not that we will be arrested while robbing the store. She squeals in fear that we will take precious outdoor time shopping in the store. She had better calm down. After searching the store for flour and tahini we are heading to the end of the road. Aki is in for a wait. 

            The store is out of flour but we are able to buy tahini and a bag of dog treats for the poodle-mix. Keeping the treat a surprise we drive 30 miles to the north end of the Juneau road system and launch our canoe in Echo Cove. Fighting a head wind, Aki’s humans make slow progress toward our destination—a large sandbar that narrows the mouth of the cove.

            This early in spring, the cove’s birds act tame. Two marble murrelets paddle without haste a few meters from our canoe. A line of Bonaparte gulls let us get within a few meters before moving off. A single murre pays us no attention. Other gulls scream and hover over a ball of herring or hooligan. They are all here to feed on young salmon, herring, or hooligan, called candle fish for their high fat content.             

Aki makes us carry her from the canoe after we land on the sand bar. Once she feels sand beneath her paws, she tears around in circles. She’ll make many more circles in the sand before we use the canoe to return to the car. The little dog will sleep in the car and have just enough energy to mooch rice from her human’s dinner. It was a good day, except the lack of flour.   

I expected a grey but dry day when we set out for Gastineau Meadow. Then the sun surprised us. Like most rain forest dwellers, I’ve learned to find beauty in soft, wet days. I even appreciate the power of storms. But that shell cracks when warmed by unexpected sunshine.

            Snow still covers part of the meadow trail. A sharply defined line of it stands in the middle of the trail, like the third rail of the D.C. Metro. The snow forming the line was compressed tight by many winter-boot prints. It will be the last to melt.

            Robins sing and Stellar’s jay scold from the branches of Douglas pines. I wish the jays would let the robins perform. After a winter of silence on the meadow, spring bird sounds are very welcome. 

            I coax Aki off the main trail and follow a deteriorating one onto the meadow.  Without meaning to, we flush a flock of dark eyed junkos off the snow. Some carry bits of dried grass in their beaks. They will fledge two crops of chicks in their meadow nests before the snow returns. 

            Even though Aki and I enjoy the warmth of this spring day, we will miss the snow. When it finally melts away, the still frozen meadow beneath it will thaw, making it a mess for walking. We won’t see the wildflower blossoms turn pink or yellow or watch the fruit of ground hugging berry plants plump and color. Those things will be for the birds, deer, bears, wolves, and coyotes on this pocket wilderness.