I have always marvelled at people who go into a cow pasture and seem surprised to see plops here and there. Seems a mystery to them.

Year ago in Ontario while driving from Alberta to Montreal, my brother and I stopped near a stream to rest a bit. He called me over and said, "What made that track?" I looked and said "Black bear, and it's less than three minutes old judging by the speed of the water beginning to fill it." He got all freaky. I told him to relax because the bear liked us less than we liked the bear. He was gone--the bear that is. So was my brother. He spent the next half hour in the car.

We used to think it a real luxury in the north when roads got an oil coat to keep the dust down. Then when a 200 km stretch got paved thus cutting about 1 1/2 hours off a trip to the big city, we were thrilled. There were still no buildings at all between point A and point B, but there'd always be someone along within a day or two, so it was never anything to get upset about if ya broke down. We sure get spoiled in the city.