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I hate nature, the words slipped out, my world shattered by the silence. We live in a crewel world but nothing compared to what our wild friends live or die. In the wild every second counts, eat, sleep, kill or be killed.  My most difficult task this week is to find a model plane for a photo shoot or maybe it was agonizing over which varnish to use this year.  Simply put us humans have it pretty easy, at least here in Canada we do.

  
Leaving Blind Bay was a hard one, I wanted to stay there forever.  Crystal clear water, white sandy beaches and no effing bears…  Ok there might have been a bear but still it has all the elements that make me sail.  It’s why I’m ok drinking warm beer and yet another night of surprise, half cooked lentils and onions. It’s why I put up with the cold, the storms here are even scary when your at the dock. I put up with poverty, rain, way way too much wind, my horrible cooking and even my man stink. 

I do these things because one day it happens, the dock lines are remeved in favor of really good ground tackle.  The lights shut off and we light candles.  The clothes go away, except for foulies that seem to get used a bit too often for summer.  Everything we eat and drink is the same temperature.  Our life’s revolve around dumping trash, finding water and, well…sailing.

Sitting in some beautiful bay I don’t remember the name of or the island it was attached to life is good.  The golden evening light has the cliffs exploding, there isn’t a drop of wind and it’s dead silent.  Then it happens, the cry of a crane, and the scream of an eagle, round and round they go, the silence is shattered.

Watching this battle to live and kill or be killed, felt so un natural.  To date I had never seen an eagle get its prey and was beginning to believe them to be the most inept hunters on the planet.  This view to a kill had me unsettled, I rooted for the crane, maybe it was a Blue Herron.  They climbed so high we could barely see them but we could hear the crys  of the Herron. It tucked its wings spiraling towards the earth, the eagle right on its tail.  I was sure this would be his get away, he would fly into tight brush, or the trees.  He landed straight in the water and with one last scream, it was all over, dead silence. The eagle won and the words slipped out of my mouth, I hate nature. As humans we aren’t hunted and survival is pretty easy, we tend to be our own worst enemys.  Be careful what you seek, you might actually get it, even if you don’t.

“High and fine literature is wine, and mine is only water; but everybody likes water.” 

― Mark Twain