I am becoming one with nature
1:19 PM |

This morning we left Dawson for Pelly Crossing, a town 3 hours south of Dawson, 3 hours north of Whitehorse. Halfway home for me and the 3/4 point for the mushers.
Along the way the photographer pulled over, and got out. Curiosity piqued, I did too, and saw five giant moose grazing on the side of the highway. I tried tiptoeing and walking ever so cautiously around the car, and then saw the photographer march right up to about 10 feet away from one to take pictures. Oh, I guess they aren’t going to charge at and eat me, I thought. They were pretty giant and moved surprisingly quick when they spotted a juicy-looking bit of leaf or whatever it is they were eating.
Foxes, I found, don’t charge either, at least the Dawson City ones. Last evening, I took a walk around while the sun was about to set, so I could see all these crazy olden-time buildings. I walked into the playground of Robert Service School and sat on a swing. Then this cat-dog looking thing with like a black mask and bushy tail, came and sat a couple feet away from me. I had just read a section of “White Oleander” (By Janet Fitch) in which the main character gets mauled by dogs, so I was nervous. But the little creature, which I determined to be a red fox, just sat and watched me swing and then went on its merry way. Fun stuff.
Went to a seminar on dog psychology last night that was disappointingly more about the science of comparing human eyes and ears with dog eyes and ears. I did learn that some dogs can be trained to smell cancer and ovulation (not at the same time!) and that Skylar ranks among the more intelligent dog breeds as a golden retriever. I think I would have got more out of the seminar if the silk-scarf wearing lecturer didn’t repeatedly scratch his crotch every few minutes. Weird!
Now we wait in Pelly for the first mushers to arrive. I take back my judgement of the BO-smelling people of the Dawson checkpoint, because with a decreasing availability in shower services, I fear I may become one such person myself. Wish me luck in the personal hygiene and journalistic scoop departments!