Some days the clock ticks faster
Thoughts and deeds and errands and phone calls all
pile on top of each other
You end up somewhere later than you would have liked.
The trail stretched enticingly before me laid out in a
packed, brown, dirt ribbon
Boots smacked snow, gravel gritted against the leather
grain
Afternoon sun gleamed lower and lower in a late sky
Old railroad ties mark a gate beneath my stride, one
by one
On and on I hurry-trudge… marking time because it has
hurried so
Hardwood leans over me, topping the trail in a canopy
of late November green
I span the concessions in no-time, thoughts leaking
from jumble to fresh clarity
Night is falling-fast, all around me, and I have
turned to backtrack
Loping the path, car waiting low in its bronze and
autumn sheen
The quiet lulling me into content, …silent enjoyment
that would not last.
Shrill yelps pierced the air like fresh knives,
cutting my thoughts to ribbon shreds
Cries in unison, the pack was out for the early
evening hunt, bent on kill
Killing spoke itself into their voices, overlapping,
layers shrill in the night air
Squeezing into my heart and my breath and sitting at
the edge of my soul
Fresh Cape Breton tragedy news reeled in my mind,
froze my calmness into panic!
I ran
I ran fast and hard, boots smacking strong now,
casting all carefulness into survival
Thoughts operated above my head on another level
The coyotes would be out for their evening meal,
trained, bent on winning the prize
Swift and lean and strong determination cut the air in
energy strands, electric
I could feel them…
The beat of my boots kept time to their never-wavering
cries, they would eat
I just hoped it would not be me.
Suddenly their yelps stopped. My never-stopping quick steps thudded on, on, on
I fervently prayed and hoped in my heart that their
prey had been some poor rabbit
And that they were not quietly stalking me, now,
getting closer to my heels…
In a silence stealthy, cunning, but my mind told me
they would have gotten their kill
I could not quit until my hand wrenched open my
car door and my body sat
Stinging and tired and played out against the welcome
softness of the seat
Pain pulsing in me, exertion beyond what my body can
work with, reeling, gasping
Then…sighing, the steel ness of the car around me a
comfort, cold, protective
The engine purred to life, and the wheels turned
around and around
I knew in those first moments, shifting into gear,
that I could kill this breed
Back on the road the headlights shone the way through
normal traffic.
I was going home.
cailin raine
This was a real happening... my first-hand experience on the railroad trail south of Carlow, near Goderich, Ontario. Nightfall had caught me, darkness settling in late afternoon, earlier each day in November. I know they say things like "Don't run!" Try being alone, concessions off the highway, and nothing but the shrill, yipping voices of a pack of coyotes in the night air. Also, in October, 2009, 19 year old Taylor Mitchell, originally from Georgian Bay area, but living in Toronto, was on tour as a folk singer in Nova Scotia. She was an avid hiker, and lover of nature, with a big heart and a sweet smile. She was hiking alone on the Skyline Trail in Cape Breton Highlands National Park. Two coyotes attacked her, and she died in hospital 12 hours later. Her mother's tribute to her indicated that Taylor had only love for all of nature and even the coyote pack that these two came from.... not wanting their demise, as her heart had no room for revenge. It was the coyote's domain after all. I publish this piece in honour of Taylor and all fellow hikers who love the trail like life itself.
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