than ever before. What’s happening is called deforestation; they are of course leaving the mature beetle killed spruce and taking the smaller, more healthy trees. Either they are unaware, or they don’t care that they are changing the ecological balance of the area. For instance, some bird species prefer spruce to birch. I know, and I care.
I kept going. I ventured out onto Jim’s Road Trail and Jim’s Road. I could, as I was coming up Jim Road’s Trail, smell the snowmobile fumes and hear the whrrreee whreee whree of the machines. I didn’t see any snowmachines, so I figured it was safe to keep going. The snow machine tracks going up trail were punchy, so I got off Raudi and walked. I was up to my thighs in snow. It was the top of the hill, the turnoff onto Jim’s Road that it happened. All the sudden snowmobilers were coming up the trail behind me and coming up the road on my right.
Raudi lunged forward. I lost my balance and let go of her reins. She turned left and ran maybe 50 yards up trail. The snowmachiners were getting closer. I waved, and those coming up road stopped. One conferred with another, he went right, across the trail, to where the others were revving their engines. I called to Raudi, holding out my hand and saying “touch.” She came to me, immediately. I walked her down past the fellow who had stopped.
I said thanks and kept going. Those who’d been behind me on Jim’s Trail floored the gas and turned right onto Jim’s Road. I kept going and breathed a sigh of relief upon nearly reaching the turnoff onto Sybarite.
I relaxed too soon. Five or so more snowmobilers came over the rise and straight at me and Raudi. I was still walking her. I barely got out of their way. Two more were on the road, waiting to make the turn. One was a parent; he was riding a tricked out machine. The other was a child, riding a small version of his tricked out machine. I gave the pair a wide berth and he started yelling at me something about my not having any right to being on the road.
I walked Raudi back to our place, stopping every so often to tell her what a wonderful horse she was.
I was of course (no pun intended) fuming as I headed in the direction of home. I was, and still am frustrated about the lack of consideration of those who venture out onto our trails. Frustration and anger, mainly about being unable to do anything about this, as they often do, are continuing to shake hands. I found myself regretting that the Covid virus is not selective. I so badly would like to see these croutons dead and gone.
What to do since I can’t do anything? The answer that came to me is, be grateful. All afternoon, things that I should be grateful for came to mind. The most obvious in this situation being the fact that my dream horse knew what to do. She did not come to me just for the treat – there is that. But she also came to me because she trusts me. Bringing this to mind (and other related thoughts) then enabled me to deal with my anger, which previously knew no boundaries.
Next: 329. 11/30/20: Goodbye November