Field Study: Meditations on a Year at the Herbarium by Helen Humphreys

Author:Helen Humphreys [Humphreys, Helen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: history, social history, nature, Plants, General, science, Life Sciences, Botany
ISBN: 9781770415348
Google: GtY8zgEACAAJ
Publisher: ECW Press
Published: 2021-09-21T23:32:01.637189+00:00

Further on there was a rabbit to hunt. Charlotte didn’t have the energy to do a full-on chase, but she pointed it for a long time, and then gave a small charge to force it to leap into the bushes for safety.

When we hit Carnage Alley, it was obvious that the walk was special. Made more so, of course, because it would be our last walk together, but also because everything had conspired to make it so joyful and beautiful. The milkweed had just come into flower in the field and their scent filled the air we walked through with a strong, heady, sweet musk. There were bobolinks swaying on the old milkweed stalks, and eastern kingbirds overhead. Along the edges of the field was a blue wash of chicory.

My human friend had tried to tempt Charlotte to eat by offering up her toast with peanut butter, but the dog was refusing food at this point and had turned her nose up at it in the car. But here, at the beginning of walking through the field, she took the toast as a prize, carrying it all the way back to the car, as she would have carried an animal that she had hunted and killed. It seemed like another way she was trying to remain herself, to enjoy herself as hard as she could on this last day.

We passed some people on our way across the field. They laughed at the sight of the dog holding her head high, carrying her piece of toast, and that laughter was as beautiful as the birdsong. Sometimes Charlotte stopped and turned on the path to make sure we were still behind her, and all of her body language, when she turned and then continued on, was jaunty and joyful. There was no way to not be happy on this walk.

When we negotiated the final corner into the last patch of field, there were three young stags grazing in the tall grasses to our right. They were about twenty feet away from us, unconcerned by our presence and by the presence of the dog, who noticed them but chose to ignore them. She could feel good about transporting her piece of toast to the car, but she didn’t have the energy to chase the deer, and she was all about feeling good this morning, not about reminding herself of what she could no longer do.

Queen Anne’s Lace

(Daucus carota)

Helen Humphreys

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