A Morning Walk on Hunter Island

This morning Prophet and I made the 15-minute drive over to Pelham Bay Park to walk on Hunter Island.  In a few weeks we will have to pay to park over there so I want to make a few visits first.  And it is the time of year that I hope to catch a few songbirds in the woods.  I counted the cars in the (enormous) Orchard Beach parking lot: 13.  For those of you who don't live in New York City that is the equivalent of almost zero.

It was forty degrees and sunny.  We went through the picnic area and headed north on the big trail alongside the rowing basin.  There were a few shells out: two female crews and some individuals.  The girls' coach was yelling at them across the water and Prophet was really interested in who was out there.  When we cut through the marsh to Strawberry Island I was reminded again of how amazed I am at Prophet's sense of geography.  He always knows exactly where I want to go, although he often has ideas of his own.  (Hint: Foreshadowing.)

A Black Lab interested Prophet as we were returning to the main trail, but he and his owner were walking counter clockwise, so I waved, Prophet sniffed their trail, and we continued on our way.  Returning from the blueberry peninsula a little terrier ran up on us from behind.  Prophet greeted him happily and jumped around with him for a few minutes.  Then we followed the trail east across the channel from Glen Island Park.

When we got to the broken former bridge to Twin Island we turned east again, climbing through the woods to the high point of the island.  We ran into two people there with large dogs.  Again, Prophet happily negotiated those greetings with uncertain strangers.  He is getting really good at this.

Near the site where the Hunter Mansion once stood we turned south on a secondary trail.  It runs roughly parallel to the main, paved path and through mixed woods where I was still hoping to see some warblers.  But not many yards along, Prophet really wanted to turn off on a tertiary trail.  He had been such a good boy that I couldn't see the harm in saying no.  The path got less and less obvious until is simply petered out in the middle of what will be a tangled thicket once the leaves are out.  Prophet confidently continue west.  I wondered where he was going, but the visibility is still good and I could see the water, so -- again -- what was the harm?

And then I saw, finally, what his nose must have been telling him ever since we first set out 90 minutes before: deer.  He broke into a run, but didn't pursue them.  Instead, he stopped and waited for me with a huge grin on his face.  And when I caught up, he continued bushwhacking due west toward the trail along the water.

We had one last encounter, with twin female Rotweilers who had been rescued from being chained in a wooden shanty with a concrete floor.  They were a little spooked, but Prophet made himself small, greeted them gently, tried to initiate play, and then calmly walked on when they remained uncertain.

I wonder what my regular mood would be if I didn't have a buddy to go adventuring with every morning.  But I do.