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“Want to come with me this time?” asks my husband, Allan. I nod and smile. Ah, northern Vancouver Island. Wilderness and wildlife viewing from the comfort of our car. You bet I’m going with him on his business trip!

A few days later, I say a temporary good-bye to the squirrels and feathered friends that hang out at my tiny half-acre mid-Island sanctuary. Soon the untamed forest north of Campbell River has gobbled up the quaint houses and rolling farms sprawling along the two-lane winding highway. As we drive inland, through miles of rolling emerald hills flanked by rugged white-capped mountains, a stately Bald Eagle soars near the tops of the tall dense evergreens. I shrug it off as rather ordinary. After all, I’d heard a rhythmic swoosh of air a few days earlier, looked a short distance above my head, and been treated to an unusual underbelly view of the huge white-headed, brown-bodied, white-tailed bird that had sent chills down my spine. No, I’m looking for something that I don’t see as often. I peer around for the elusive Elk portrayed on the yellow warning signs along the road. Allan tells me that he’s only seen them at night. Well then, how about a cougar? Yeah, that will do. Only seen one in my life, walking through a meadow at dusk, and that was years ago. Wasn’t the North Island supposed to be full of them?

The morning is as bright as a shiny new dime when we turn off onto a dirt road that will take us back to the east coast. I wonder if I’ll find anything but a stark metal fish packing plant at the end. Little do I know that I’ll soon be savoring a delicious slice of bustling coastal life. Think I’ll leave the details for next month.

Back on the highway, sunlight and blue sky give way to heavy grey cloud as we draw closer to the mountains. Shortly after that fog wraps its thick fingers around the jagged peaks towering around me. As I shiver in the gloomy dampness, half a dozen Turkey Vultures circle the timber ominously where something is dying or dead. Suddenly, rain pounds the car, obscuring my view with torrents of water. Allan switches on the windshield wipers and heat. Then, a few miles down the road, he turns them off again when sunshine transforms the cold foreboding mountains back into welcoming friends. Songbirds sing joyfully in glistening alders swaying in the breeze at the roadside rest stop where we pause for lunch. Basking in the Sun’s warmth and embraced by sheer mountainsides that seem close enough to touch, we stretch and eat our sandwiches. And then we’re off again, driving on through flipping postcard scenes of changing weather and spectacular scenery. June in the mountains.

The Sun has pushed the clouds aside again when swing onto the paved road into scenic Telegraph Cove. Whale watcher’s paradise. We scope out the expedition headquarters and cheery buildings around the empty bay from a high point, glance at the marina, check out the commercial side of things, and head back to the highway. No whales. Still farther north, I guess. Two one-lane bridges crossing shimmering crystal-clear creeks later, the frost-heaved road stretches out between wide shoulders of lush grass. All of a sudden, we both say, “Bear.” Cool. A short distance from me, the feeding Black Bear is sideways to the road and down on all fours. Looks like a shaggy Newfoundland dog. My eyes drink it in. The rounded head with half-moon-shaped ears, broad forehead, and long snout that is partly concealed by tall green blades. The slightly curved shoulder, lean side, and rounded well-muscled bottom above the swaying grass spikes. I notice that the fur along its back glows a warm chestnut color in the bright light before the car rolls slowly away from it. Now that’s the way to see a bear! Safe, but close enough to see the whites of its eyes.

It seems as if bears like to hang out in Port Hardy too. The hotel clerk tells us that eight tourists had just been totally enraptured by one that was rummaging through the hotel dumpster. She says they thought it was so cute that they asked if they could feed it. I raise my eyebrows. Not a good idea. Don’t they know it’s dangerous? Don’t they know bears get aggressive and increasingly demanding if you feed them? I glance out the lobby window and see a bundled up smoker shivering on a bench. I guess bad habits can be like bears. Suck you in by showing their cute little teddy bear side, while hiding the side that can tear you apart.

Ever had one of those "aha" moments, the kind where something terrifying cracks you on the head to get a point across? This is a story from years ago where that happened to me. Enjoy!

I'm not walking! A shiver crawled down my spine as I thought about the snakes lurking in the marsh beside the road. Allan showed me how to start this thing and I'm starting it! Holding my breath, I turned, pulled, and pushed, until the engine of the old red Massey Harris Pony Tractor roared to life with a few puffs of grey smoke. I grinned proudly. Then I awkwardly hauled my very pregnant body up to the metal seat. Feeling extremely self-sufficient, I took on the bone-jarring ride down the ruts to the end of our crude driveway.

Shortly afterwards, I bounced up to the gravel road that linked intermittent homesteads in the isolated valley. Not a soul in sight. The summery afternoon that had arrived in fall highlighted the tan-colored streak that was beckoning me to my closest neighbors. I glanced at the railroad tracks slashing across it a couple miles away and turned the wheel in that direction.

My trusty metal steed rumbled merrily along, carrying me through poplar groves that were just beginning to turn golden and stretches of tall dry grass. We passed the dreaded marshland and I patted its hot metal affectionately. This was a great idea! With a smile, I headed for the slope that would take me up onto the single set of shiny shimmering tracks.

Why you doing that? I asked it, when the motor sound changed as the tractor was chugging up the slope. It coughed and I frowned. I know you're a machine and machines hate me. But be good. What do you want? Gas? I gave it a little more and it crawled up onto the level crossing, sputtered, and died. You can't stop here, in the middle of the tracks! My heart started to pound and my eyes darted down the two brown lines to the left and right of me. Empty. Oh no! The freight train's due! Panic rushed through me. Calm down. You have to think. I drew in a deep quieting breath. Restart it now, my mind ordered. I quickly fiddled with the gas lever and choke, and then pushed the starter button. The tractor protested with a loud cry of pain, which was followed by ominous silence. My gaze flew to the tracks again. They looked like two harmless drizzles of dark liquid chocolate, but I prayed, Help me Lord Jesus! Just as I reached over with a shaky hand to try again, a rhythmic clatter shook me to the core. The train! My wide eyes flew to the North, to the short stretch of empty tracks before the bend hidden in the trees. It's coming!

I could taste my fear as I frantically pushed the starter. The tractor cried out like a wounded cougar and fell mute, so I desperately jabbed the red button again. My metal mount responded with another cry of agony and then silence. The horrible realization hit me that it wasn't going to start again. I gazed wildly up the tracks, the sounds from the unseen steel monster growing louder with each heartbeat. Run! I turned to get down. Then something forced my eyes back to the bend. Paralyzed, I watched it as if it was a rodeo gate about to release an angry Brahma bull. Suddenly, a long kicker car shot out and came clanking straight at me! My brain registered the shocked male faces on the open flatbed. Right after that one of the crew jumped on a bar, brakes squealed, and the car screeched to a halt about twenty feet from me.

In the silence that followed, eight sets of dark astounded eyes stared at me and I stared back. An explosion of excited words that didn't make sense shook me from my stupor. I realized that they weren't speaking English, just before one of the tanned muscular men pointed directly at me. He burst into raucous laughter and I heard a chain reaction of deep guffaws. After that, all the rough looking men grew silent and started to study me. All of a sudden, I felt very alone and very vulnerable. I glanced down the road but it was still empty. Then my eyes returned to the flatbed, right as a short husky man was hopping off.

Cold sweat popped out on my brow before the swarthy dirt-covered man in grease-streaked clothing stopped beside the tractor. The stench of creosote and male sweat hit me as he was looking up. When his hand started toward me, my heart jumped into my throat. It stopped inches from me with the palm up and I blinked in surprise and peered at the ambiguous face below the flat gray cap. Why does he want me to get down? Realizing that he could easily drag me off the tractor, I took his hand and rose. My foot fished blindly for the foothold. Suddenly, he placed his other hand on my waist and effortlessly swung me to the ground. While I was still struggling with my balance, he called something. Glancing at the flatbed, my heart caught when I saw two more men jumping off.

The men in sweat-stained shirts and blackened pants strode purposefully in my direction. I wiped an itchy trickle of nervous sweat from my neck, just before the wiry man with the patched red shirt halted. My eyes took in the smudged rugged face that was still growing close. Then he moved past me, walked to the hood, and opened it. Relief swept through me and it was so strong that my knees threatened to collapse.

A few minutes later, my original rescuer climbed up onto the tractor and the engine roared to life. I smiled up at him but he was busy motioning the other men back to the kicker. After he jumped down, I placed my foot on the bottom foothold. Strong hands immediately lifted me to the top. As I was plopping down in the seat, I thought, I can't believe I was afraid to even take his hand before. When I looked down and thanked him for his help, he removed his cap and stood silently looking at it and twisting it. I waited, sensing that he wanted to say something but didn't know how. After a few seconds he gave me a respectful smile, pointed to my stomach, and said a word that sounded like baby. I knew instantly that he was wishing me well with my baby.

Aware of the eight supportive men who were watching, I gently guided my unpredictable mount off the crossing and started along the gravel road. Then, a shrill shriek in the distance reminded me that the train would soon speed across the crossing. What if it had come before the kicker? I'd have never gotten off the tractor in time. I shuddered. Thank you Lord for sending me help. And please forgive me for judging them by the way they looked. Gazing over my shoulder, I saw that my white knights in disguise were riding away on their metal steed.

Here's a funny little summer story to chase away the April showers. Before you reach the second paragraph, can you guess what is talking?

"Hey! Why'd you make me stop playing 'stunt plane'? Buzzing humans is sweet. How come you yelled for me to quick zoom in here? And where are we? It's so warm and bright."

"That door over there was open before and the sign on it said 'school music room'. Anyway Sadie, wait 'til you see what I found under that big desk! A great big piece of rotting meat! I was in fly-heaven yesterday, exploring every wonderful inch of it. And then, I laid a real nice cluster of eggs right in the middle. Come on, I'm going to check on them now."

"You and your super sensitive antennae! Okay, stop waving them in my face. Show me where. I can always check my eggs later."

"Yahoo! Food, yummy food! It's over there. In that metal thing over by the closed door."

"Quit looking at me with those smug eyes or I'm gonna shoot death-rays from mine. And remember, I got eight thousand lenses to shoot through at once so you're gonna be way dead."

"Yeah and we're here 'cause I smelled the food. You didn't. Hey, it's an apple!"

"That's the point. It's probably in the very bottom, under all that crumpled paper and those empty water bottles and cans. I think humans bury all the good stuff just so we can't get it."

"No. Yesterday I tried to get a sandwich out of here and all I got was a nice bump on the thorax for my trouble. I'm going to check my eggs."

"Hey this glass feels good. Feels like the time that dude wasn't looking and I stuck my feet in his coffee."

"Yeah it absorbs sunrays. I got quite a nice tan on my abdomen yesterday before..."

"Because he saw me then and he rolled up a paper and tried to swat me. I'm moving over to the corner where he can't see me as easily. Good he isn't looking. He's rummaging through his desk."

"Forget about him. We're experts at fast get-a-ways. Nobody can jump up or back faster than me! And you're not so bad either. I'm stretching out my wings and legs and dozing in the sun."

"Not for long, you aren't. He's getting his book out so lunchtime must be over. Oh no. Here comes one of the small ones now. And of course it has to be the one with the short spiky red hair."

"So? Hey. Why's he holding those two flat round shiny gold things together up in the air? I'm going over."

"Oh no! Speak to me Sadie! Oh this is awful. I knew he'd smash those things together. I'm coming. Just stay on the floor. Oh dear, you look terrible! Can you fly? Stand up. Oh why don't you listen to me? I told you not to get close."

"You stupid fly! Scaring me like that. You get to that door. We're going home right now. And stop smiling like a fool! You were just about killed!"