The Furious Spinner

It's the middle of the night. I've eaten an apple, a fried egg, and toast with garlic and olive oil on in. How decadent. The TV is on. Too wired to sleep, I guess. I slept for two hours and then came awake. Been thinking about something I learned today: the forest service is planning on spraying pesticides in four national forests in our area, including the Gifford-Pinchot where I hike every week. They're going to fly planes and dump the poisons and drive trucks and spray the poisons. We're supposed to give public comment, which I certainly will do, but I've never seen them change a position once they have decided what they want to do.

The Giff is where Falling Creek is. Mario and I hiked this trail all the way to the waterfall three times in six days. The last time was Monday. As we walked down the trail I heard a couple of birds making a fuss. I looked to my left to try and see the birds. Instead, on a thin bent tree about 15 feet up, I saw a bird about seven inches tall. She didn't fly away. I squinted and walked around the tree. The bird's head followed me. It was an owl! A Northern Pygmy owl. What a treat.

How can they even think of poisoning this place? This owl? (Me?)

I dreamed a woman was sprawled in the road, dead from a heart attack. No one could save her. Do you think she died of a broken heart? Well, I'm not going to die of a broken heart. I'm going to figure out what I can do about it—and how to live with it either way it goes.

All photographs and written material copyright © 2003-2008 by Kim Antieau unless otherwise indicated. May not be used without permission.