At first Aki didn’t seem bothered by our late start. Much snow from a new storm had to be cleared before we could leave the yard. She announced her presence on the street with the usual bark and then got down to checking the pee mail. Since the roads were still a mess, I decided to take Aki on the usual tour of downtown Juneau. But rather than climbing the gentle Gastineau Avenue grade, which would have meant a visit with the resident ravens perched above the channel, she insisted that we swing over the Lower Franklin Street.

We passed small knots of homeless folks sheltering from the tail end of the storm and later the Glory Hole homeless shelter. Two right turns and one left, all at her direction, brought us to a snowed-in Marine Park. Three ravens bickered in the bare branches of shade trees. A single pigeon perched on a rail and looked out at the channel. Perhaps the ravens were trying to decide which one could grab the city bird.

Aki had no interest in any of the birds. She led me up Seward Street and then stopped in front of the state’s social worker office. When I urged her to continue on toward home she gave me a hard look and pointed her noise at the door. They only protect abused children, not disappointed canines, little dog. After a little more urging, Aki trotted on up the hill after her unsuccessful attempt to drop a dime on her humans.

Two days ago, a strip of ice made it possible for Aki and I to safely reach the face of Mendenhall Glacier. It formed a bridged for us over a mire of overflow. The next morning, our local radio station broadcasted a warning against crossing the lake to the glacier in the present conditions. This morning, the little dog and I walk down another ribbon of ice. This one wanders through an old growth forest to the beach. It’d be dangerous for anyone not using ice cleats.

Perhaps because of the icy trail, we are alone in the woods. There’s a small-scale blizzard blowing outside but no wind and little snow make it through the forest canopy. No wonder deer shelter from storms among the big trees. It’s cozy-quiet—a good place for a deer to graze and rest.

The beach, when we reach it, would be quiet if not for a family of ravens bickering above us in a spruce tree. Just offshore a raft of surf scoters practice their drill team maneuvers—expanding from a compact raft to form the letter “C.” A small group leaves formation to huddle over a ball of baitfish. Several of the birds sound their “three stooges” goofy call. Soon, all of the scoters are going after the fish.

Aki and I are walking in slop. Last night’s wet snow was supercharged with water by the rain that followed. Now my boots plop into shallow lakes that have formed on Juneau’s sidewalks and streets. Aki manages to skirt most of the wet areas as she searches the melting snow for hidden scents.

The Gastineau Avenue ravens seem grouchy, croaking at us from the top branches of the avenue’s cottonwood trees. When the sun breaks through the marine layer, it sparkles off the new snow covering Mt. Jumbo across the channel. If my feet were dry and Aki wasn’t tugging on her lead, I’d stop and enjoy the scene.