So The Snow Goes

Happy Dog

 

Last time, my person hogged up all my space with the first chapter of Caravan. It’s a bit nerve-wracking for those in the story, so I’m glad it’s fiction. Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

I must admit, even I was happy we had a warm, sunny, springy day to walk in, even if the snow is fading. I really love the snow and the cold weather. My folks are from Siberia, you know, so it’s normal for me. But sometimes the warm sun feels good, and I see we have some different birds in the yard these days.

On the trails, we thrilled to the last of the snow. It uncovers hidden treasures as it recedes, and we can find mouse runs and bits of leftover kills. I found some bunny scraps left behind by Brer Coyote. Scraps is right. Nothing but fur. Ever heard of sharing?

Well, I can read the signs. This is the Melting Snow Moon. I can smell it.

It’s the Snow Geese that take the snow with them. We saw a flock fly over and listened to their funny squeaky honk that sounds more like quacking. Yeah, when the snow geese go north, they take the snow with them. It’s a sure sign.

Days are getting longer, so that’s a good thing. Gives me a little more time to try to ambush the skunk by the side of the house before the people call me in. And on to the next season!

I like mud, too.

 

Clear Trails,

 

Sasha

 

Caravan Draft Chapter One

Chapter One
Summit

Sasha could hear the pounding of her own heart in her ears as she hastened along the snow-covered frozen trail. Without conscious will, she had assumed the same demeanor and posture as the other dogs. Her tail was pulled down and close, and she hunched as she ran to reduce her profile, ears laid back on her head. She breathed heavily but held in her tongue. Her muscles trembled though she wasn’t cold, and her stomach seemed to be rolling and roiling inside her. These were the physical manifestations of fear, something of which she had learned a great deal in a very short time.

The party with whom she was fleeing stretched out in a single-file line, racing their way over the East Woods trail at a punishing, reckless pace. Ahead of them drove their beloved human companion and driver, Tun, an eight-dog substitute team pulling his overloaded cargo sled. Behind Tun rode their young friend Rol, driving Tun’s slim, ornate racing sled, it too heaped with belongings. Rol drove a single reindeer in harness, and slapped the reins across its flanks, compelling it to move faster. They stole looks over their shoulders, hunching and trembling like the dogs.

Surrounding Sasha was her pack, her dogsledding teammates, her family. Ahead was Dak, the skilled lead dog, and Stone, the oldest. Beside her, her own brother Anchu, and behind them energetic Alexei and his brother, strong wheel dog Larik. Umka, the seventh on the team, ran beside Kotka, Sasha’s mentor and longest-held friend, a slight limp betraying his healed broken leg. The entire entourage ran as fast as they could manage toward the summit of Tun’s mountain to escape their pursuers.

What had been one of the finest days in Sasha’s short life was subsequently overshadowed by harrowing and mysterious events. The Summer Festival at the tiny village of Tunkan brought Sasha and Anchu to their first dog sled race. An unexpected and exciting win was a sweet surprise, and the team reveled in their success.

Before a day passed, they were called upon to travel with Rol to Sasha and Anchu’s birthplace, the homestead of Bek, Nina and their son Jiak, to determine the reason for their absence from Festival. Sasha was eager to see Jiak, her first love and dogsledding driver, after two moons in her new home. She was equally eager, if not perhaps more so, to see Mother again, and relate to her all the exciting things that had passed since their parting. She would see Kotka, and all the dogs of her former team.

Upon arrival the home was found to be deserted, and every dog in the yard was gone except Kotka, who had fled to the woods. He described a frightening incursion by strangely-clad invaders, taking all the dogs and people with them. Bek had called them “soldiers”.

When they returned to Tunkan, the laughing village, host of the Summer Festival, they found it pillaged and torched. The fearsome intruders from the west were responsible for this, and none of it made the least sense to Sasha or her teammates.

Now Tun and Rol pressed eastward, fleeing their persecutors, last to leave in a long string of refugees. Chavchu reindeer herders drove their animals ahead of them, and more than a dozen dog sleds carried people, families and their belongings. A number of orphaned dogs followed with the group, similarly driven from the only homes they had ever known.

Both sleds were loaded to capacity with all that could be hurriedly made to fit. The air was crisp and cold, and the snow well-packed, yet Tun’s team struggled as the trail pitched uphill. He stepped off the runners and trotted behind the sled to reduce the load. Higher and higher they continued to climb until they emerged from the forest near the peak of the mountain. The next leg would be the most difficult, as the steep slope loomed before them.

“Whoa now.” Tun called to the team, ”All dogs down.”

Most of the dogs laid down in their traces, panting hard and welcoming the rest stop. Two dogs up front, who looked enough alike to be twins, stood staring ahead at the trail, awaiting the command to move again.

The imposing peak of the great mountain stood before them. Ancient etched and jagged granite, with strips and stripes of glacier, snow and ice. An intimidating incline without a trail or cover, the wind careened up its face and threw itself from its top to form billowing clouds of blowing snow in the sky.

Tun spoke to Rol and rifled hastily through his sled, extracting a gang line extension and a bag of harnesses. He called his loyal team to him; Dak and Stone, Alexei and Larik, Anchu and Sasha and Umka. One by one he placed their mushing harnesses on them, assisted by Rol, and commenced to connect tug lines to the long gang line, already equipped with eight strong Chukchi dogs. Despite calls, Larik did not report for duty, but Tun wasted no time returning to their climb. With fourteen dogs in tandem, the tiring troupe again attacked the ascent.

The early winter wind brought with it a haunting scent, climbing the slope and stampeding past the party. All the dogs seemed to detect it simultaneously as they lifted their noses to the air.

“The strangers!” Stone called to the pack, and they turned their heads to the timberline as it receded.

Fourteen dogs and a man were no match for the million-ton mountain which has stood for millennia. They slowed to a crawl, frequently coming to a complete halt. Tun would shove and heave, and more than once Rol needed to join him to move the long cargo sled foot by foot up the steep slope. Both men turned their eyes often to the backtrail.

At long last the crest of the summit drew near, as Tun continued to push the heavy sled, and every dog strained at the long gang line. One more step, one more step. Each inch of progress purchased with exhausted muscles and heaving breaths.

Dak, in the lead, was first over the top, right behind him Stone. Before Sasha reached the ridge, they disappeared over it, and so it went with each of the dogs in the long procession.

As Sasha crested the ridgeline, she was startled to discover they were on a bluff that towered hundreds of feet above the base. A narrow shelf ran perpendicularly, barely wide enough for a sled. The whistling wind inundated all with blinding clouds of blowing snow. Winds driven up the face of the cliff would collide with and part the curtain to reveal a vast, featureless plain below. As far as she could see, nothing but flat, frozen windswept tundra greeted her.

“Haw! Haw! Haw! Haw! Haw!” Tun’s powerful, booming voice could barely be heard above the Arctic din cascading over the mountaintop and shrouding everything in white. If not for Dak’s recollections of vague familiarity of this rarely-trod route, the sharp turn might well have resulted in disaster, and a blind helpless plunge into the rock-strewn abyss.

The group skirted along a narrow ledge, twenty feet below the driftcap, parallel to the cliff. The overwhelming blowing snow whited out everything beyond a few feet, making for a nerve-wracking transit, the precipice beside them a constant threat. It seemed one misstep could find them in mid-air at any moment, though the buffeting wind served to shove them back against the wall of granite. They continued along this seismic cut, guided only by Dak’s nose and their faith in his instincts. It crept its way down from the peak of the mountain, leading them eventually to the wide open tundra.

When finally they were on level ground again, they turned due eastward and struck out across the stark landscape. Sunset was drawing near, and here the wind raced across the open terrain without hindrance, and reached phenomenal speeds. Ice bits and even tiny shards of rock peppered the party like miniature gunfire, as they bore down directly into the Arctic headwind. They followed a freshly-laid trail, preceded by the others that had fled before them.

Their breakneck pace waned as the blistering wind blinded them and hammered them with brutal gusts. The sky grew darker and the numbing temperatures grew ever colder. The frantic pace of the hillclimb and the sprinting undertaken when they reached the plain began to ebb. Gallops slowed to trots. Trots slowed to walking.

Now as darkness fell, the gale increased in its fury, and cold was driven through dog’s coats and humans’ alike. Sasha pondered at these strange days.

“Why do the strangers persecute us?” she wondered. Surrounded by all those she knew and loved, led by their strong friend Tun, Sasha was less fearful now, yet apprehensive about the future. Mystery loomed before her, and she thought now of all those she had longed to see since the odyssey began. Her mother, her human family of the homestead on the moraine, all of her former teammates and other dogs from her first home. Dear Jiak.

In the howling wind Sasha swore she heard their voices calling out to her. From someplace deep in the darkness, perhaps high above the smothering storm, they sent their spirits to her.

“We are all of us a pack,” came their soothing thoughts, “and a pack is a forever love.”

The sounds faded into the roar of the polar barrage, and Sasha leaned into her harness, ignoring the pain in her paws.

 

Skunks And Yoga

On The Widowmaker

 

Snow! Snow! Snow! Gosh I love snow. You can eat it and dig in it and run through it. You can spin three turns and have yourself a bed in an instant. And you don’t get overheated on your hike.

My person is excited about the third volume of my stories, as he finally got started on Caravan. I’m glad it’s fiction, because it’s a lot colder up above the Arctic Circle than it is here. It’s 16 degrees (F) here today, and with the wind, feels like 2 below zero (F). My team on the tundra is facing far lower temperatures and far greater winds. It must be fifty below where they are. I’ll just lay here by the wood stove and watch the old man write.

I took up two new hobbies. One is Yoga. I don’t know what it’s about but they have this thing called “downward dog”, and I’m a natural at it. This Yoga thing must be right up my alley.

The other thing is macrame. You know, tying knots. The only thing I have to work with is my jorring lead, but I’m making progress.

Had a skunk come around this week. Time for them to come out of hibernation. He was close to the house in the night, but in the morning was nowhere to be found. I suppose that’s good, cause every time I get a decent layer of skunk scent on me, my people wash it off with this awful-smelling, perfumey shampoo. Eww! And it will be three moons before I’ll be able to find a dead thing to roll in.

I know that skunk’s here somewhere.

 

Clear trails!

 

Sasha

 

Snow And Gunpowder

Nishan Hill

 

Woo! Hoo! More snow!

We had a good snowstorm blanket the ranch with fresh powder up to a Chusky’s knees, and we went for a great hike on Sunday. Uncle Matt cousin Max and some other people friends came over to do some rabbit hunting. I was ready to see them cry when they saw how I could run much faster than them, and I still have trouble catching a rabbit.

Well, I guess the rabbits found out about it, because nobody saw a single one! They must have been hiding in their dens.

We went for a long walk and rooted around through some grapevine tangles, and never scared up a bunny. As we were heading through Chuy’s trail eastward, a war broke out. It was a small war, I guess, and they took their time shooting. Still, I’m afraid of loud noises and the gunfire was between us and the house!

My person ducked into Mr. Nishan’s machine shed, and we waited it out. The wind blew all around and snow continued to fall as we waited. It was really cold, so we were glad to be out of the wind.

At one point, my person pointed to the window and said “Okay, I’m going to knock out that window. You go to Dawson and get Sergeant Preston. Understand? Get Sergeant Preston!” I think he thought he was in the TV show for a minute.

Finally, the shooting stopped, and we came down through the Avenue Of The Pines to discover it was our own people that came for rabbit hunting. Geez, I should have thought of that. They never intended to run after the rabbits!

I was really tired by the time we came in, and I had a good long nap in front of the wood stove. I pretended I was huddled around a fire with my teammates on the frozen Chukchi Peninsula in Siberia.

When I woke up, I was glad I was home and warm.

 

Clear trails!

 

Sasha

My Birthday!

I forgot all about it last week, until my person came home with a larger-than-usual bag of snacks and goodies. Then he said “Happy Birthday! You’re ten years old!” (It was the day they call “the third”, though it seems like there have been a lot more than three days in the last few years)

I’m not really sure what the big deal is. I didn’t do anything special. But I guess my people thought I was special for the day, and that made me very happy. The Jack Link’s beef jerky meant a lot, too.

Most of our beloved snow has melted away, and today it’s rainy. Maybe winter is over? Gosh, it seemed really short, or maybe that’s just because I’m getting old. How often do we get birthdays, anyway? Maybe I’ll have another this week, and more jerky.

 

Clear trails,

 

Sasha

Snow Shoe Heaven

I’m so glad we had plenty of snowfall, and my person finally got out his snow shoes!

We had a great hike last weekend, around all the trails out back. Snow smells great, and it’s really easy to track things like bunnies and mice. Their scent sticks to the snow, and it’s easier than trying to pick it out of grass. We move slower when my person has snow shoes on. It’s kinda nice to go slower sometimes, though I never think of it. Usually I want to cover as much ground as I can, check out all the trails before it starts to get dark. But when I’m forced to slow down, I notice a lot of things I usually just run past.

I noticed a huge wasp nest in the cherry tree, and I was scared at first and wanted to run. I didn’t see any wasps, and in some places the paper-like stuff of wasp nests had begun to tear. I guess they must have moved out or something, or maybe there’s a lot of frozen wasps in there! I better remember that when spring comes around.

On the trail, my person, slow enough as it is, insisted on stopping and taking photographs. At one point, I could smell the bunnies in the thicket right ahead of me, and I forgot that he said the “Hold up!” command. I took off after the bunny scent and pulled him over on his backside! I didn’t mean to, but afterward I thought it was kinda funny.

Great news! I was out in the driveway and smelled something familiar. I dug and dug and guess what I found? It was the bone I thought the snow plow had eaten! It was buried in the snow. I dug down to it, but it was frozen to the ground. Fortunately, my person understood my quandary, and kicked the bone loose! Now I’m ahead of the game, since they put another bone in that sock for Christmas! Don’t tell them, but the “beef tip” snacks were terrible. Maybe Doone The Cat will eat them.

Clear Trails!

 

Sasha

A Tree In The House?

Wow! We had a good blizzard drop about a foot-and-a-half of snow on us. It sure looks pretty, but has impeded my person from snow shoeing or ski-joring. Hopes are high for this weekend!

I don’t know what gets into people at this time of year. Maybe it’s to celebrate the return of the snow, or maybe snow makes them crazy. All kinds of decorations come out, and every room is smothered. My person tacked up colored light bulbs on the front porch, and put out his cardboard painted snowman.  Then, they brought this little pine tree into the parlor. I remember they did this last year, too. I mean, there are thousands of pine trees around the house, so it seems a little odd. Next thing, they’ll try to hide it. They’ll put colored light bulbs on it and then a bunch of shiny things like birds put in their nests. They’re not fooling me. I know they have a tree in there.

I see the sock hanging up, the one with black paw prints on it. I didn’t walk on it, so I don’t know how that happened. Probably Doone The Cat. The important thing is that not long after they hide the tree in the parlor, they load up that sock with some of my favorite treats!

So I went out to chew on the ham bone Mom gave me, and when I got to the driveway, I discovered the snow plow had eaten it. I never knew a truck would eat my treats, but you can bet I won’t be leaving any lying around again.

 

Clear Trails!

 

Sasha

 

Snow!

I’m so excited! I knew I smelled it, and as soon as the door opened, there it was, a foot of new snow!
It  was really deep over by the pine trees, and I had to hop from one step to the next!

This means my person will get out his snow shoes. Sheesh, if you thought he was slow before!
Or maybe those ski things! Then I can run down the hill!

We went for a great walk in the snow. Everything smells different, and it’s easier to see tracks than smell them!
Hope you get lots of snow where you are, too.

 

Sasha

Lodge Release News

Hello everyone!

I’m excited to announce that today my human published my second book, Lodge!

These stories pick up where Homestead ended, and take us through our first summer, our first trip to the Summer Festival at Tunkan, and our first look at dogsled races!

It’s available in paperback and ebook on Amazon. Search for Sasha Of The Chukchi Sea, or go to my human’s author page at: amazon.com/author/scottroconnor.

I hope you’ll enjoy reading it!

 

 

Meanwhile, here at home, we’ve finally made a good turn toward winter. Temperatures were down to 9 degrees F last night, and we have a modest layer of snow. Still not enough for sledding.
The smell of the skunk still lingers a bit around the cellar door, but it’s fading.

Clear trails!

Sasha

First Frosts

Last weekend I saw a few flakes of snow fall from the sky, that’s when I knew it’s almost time for winter! These days are getting cooler, but still mild during the day, but as this moon wears on, it gets colder and colder.

Soon the ground will be frozen in the mornings, frost on everything, little puddles with the thinnest layer of ice on top. Hunters will be out often during this time, and we’ll hear guns going off in every direction in the woods around the ranch. Loud noises scare me a little.

But then, know what’s next? Yes you do! Come on, guess again!
Yes! The turkey holiday!

All my favorite people will come over and there will be the hugest feast of the year. (Must be they need to use up all the old stuff, I guess.) Plenty of turkey and turkey bones (and a strange assortment of turkey-based meals for a long, long time.) And but also pie! Chocolate pie! Okay, so the people always make a big deal over the pumpkin pie. I don’t get that. A gourd in a pie or candy? That’s a choice?

 

Last night a skunk got near the house, or under it. Wow! Woke us all up out of sound sleeps at midnight.
So, I need to go air out now. (And make sure she doesn’t move in to hibernate!)

Clear Trails!

 

Sasha

Weird And Spooky Things

Something really strange is happening again around the ranch. This happened last year, too, and the year before that.

Normally, my people decorate our house with pretty things like wreaths, silk flowers, holiday decorations and colored lights. Now they have made the place look terrible on purpose! There are human skeletons, some in pieces, hung and scattered about. Pumpkins bear faces resembling humans. Some kind of ritual or sacrifice, I guess.

On the front lawn is a 9-foot tall man-looking thing with a green face, and nailed to a tree is a small woman, spread eagle as if she’d flown into the tree. Her hands are green and her hair is purple.

There’s a HUGE spider hanging from the kitchen ceiling, and all around the place are more scarecrows than you’d need for a whole sunflower farm. Don’t they know the gardens are dead now? What do we need all these scarecrows for? (Besides, I’ve never seen a crow come in the house.)

Maybe they’re trying to keep the hunters away from the house (and their noisy guns!)

It’s a good thing I remember seeing this holiday before, or I’d be worried about my people.

Clear trails!

 

Sasha