I take many photos of robins this time of year. They are always posing. Today, on the gravel road leading to one of our favorite meadows, a robin stands fifty feet away. When neither Aki nor I try to catch it, the bird turns so we have a better view of its prominent red breast. It waits for Aki to finish her business and for me to bag the resulting product in plastic. Only after we move ten feet closer does the robin make a showy burst into the trailside alders.
Two robins seem to wait for us as we make our way back to the car. Aki runs towards one, which flies easily to a perch just a few feet away from the little dog. The other robin trots away slowly, stops, and when neither Aki nor I head toward it, moves back in Aki’s direction. My little dog, apparently bored with the game, ignores the bird. I want to tell the robins that they can save their breath for singing. We have no interest in harming their nestlings and so they don’t need to decoy us away from their nest.
When we finally reach the Camping Cove trailhead, the poodle-mix flies out of the car. I follow her down a newly graveled trail that winds to the beach through a mature alder grove. It’s the perfect day for this walk, which takes us along beaches and over the headlands that connect them. Perfect because last night’s cold temperatures have firmed up the boggy portions of the trail. Excellent because full sun floods the beaches with light, making the surf line burn with a silver light.
It’s not all sweetness and light. The little dog disappears and then returns with a “he will never know” look on her face. In the car I smell the evidence. She rolled in something long dead. I see bath time in her near future.
The little dog alerts when a Stellar sea lion splashes just below us. We hear barking. Instead of dogs it’s six more sea lions swimming up the little bay toward our lookout. They swim back and forth beneath our roost. Aki eases to the steep edge of the point and barks a couple of times. The sea lion gang members all head in our direction and stop long enough to life the top quarter of their bodies out of the water. My little dog gives out one more bark and quietly returns to my side. In another minute they are all gone, all but the merganser and the handful of gulls.
Ice holds all the moraine’s beauty today—the turquoise-blue glacier and the crystal-clear ice formed around fallen blades of grass and river rocks. An insistent-green clump of grass forces it way through a shrinking ice lens. Skunk cabbages will blossom soon.
Walking with Aki 