ch. 3, v.121-157 (journey to mansfield: summit)

(If you look in the lower left-hand corner of the picture,
you'll see me and Len posed to provide some scale.)

This day my companion you have chosen a path of greater wisdom.
You neglect not the inheritance of homo sapiens,
The abundant grey matter that crafts numberless tools from the rawness of the earth,
The accumulated wealth of experiments trials and errors
Until with the ease and swiftness of a vast herd of horses
We may travel this mountain from its foot to its crown
Conquering in the space of one brief nap the ascent that before
Consumed of us many hours and much labor.




(Do you then ask of me what goodness we find in our daily perambulations?
Should we not quickly upon wheels of mineral and sap advance each morn to our destination?
Nay, this question is foolishness, for the destination you imagine is no purpose
But only a point in the compass of the pack's knowledge.
For we traverse the ground upon our paws to know its smells and its sights
To trace the history of other packs as they have followed this path
And to know if they are good to avoid, good to meet in fellowship,
Or good to chase and growl upon.
In the grasses and the sod of our quartering, accident may bring unto us
Rich odors erstwhile unknown--for in other wilderness have we not discovered
The droppings of large hoofed hinds or small canines who are our cousins?
Therein we enlarge the territory of our mind.)

So my companion I offer my praise for this ascent and for this walk it allows unto us.

Oh for this here is a wondrous confluence of condensation and suspension
That makes the atmosphere all about us as a cooling bath.
Yea, tho' we tread the sharpened edge of the earth's incisor
Several hundreds of rods above the vast salted water of our home
Towering even above the broad valleys whose roads we traveled only this forenoon,
All is hidden now from us in this curtain of moisture.







Tho' the heat of the sun could parch and again weaken us
Yet these mists caress and protect us
So dense that even should a pack of fogdogs come to walk with us,
Letting us to see with our eyes the territory below
Allowing the sun in gentleness to warm the furless hide of humans
Doubt not that it is a righteous place for your canine companions--




See upon the very pinnacle of the summit of the mountain of mansfield
This cooling and murky pool
In it I shall make my bath taking unto my coat its good water
And anointing it also with my water, the mark of Frida.



Exegesis and Commentary
Yes, we drove around Mt. Mansfield, through Stowe, and up the road that meets the Long Trail. It is still necessary to hike a bit of a ways from the parking lot to the summit, tho' as Frida here reminds us, the summit in and of itself is a meaningless goal. But of course that pool of water that was, literally, only a yard or so from the summit marker, gave her considerable satisfaction. And she did pee in it, only I didn't get a picture of that.

Our trek the day before had been on the Sunset Ridge Trail (which I think we misidentified in a previous post as the Crescent Ridge Trail), and here we found the sign for where it meets up with the Long Trail. After Len's report on the intervening bit, I'm glad we didn't try to hike it all the way with the dogs.

ch. 3, v.121-157

(If you look in the lower left-hand corner of the picture,
you'll see me and Len posed to provide some scale.)

This day my companion you have chosen a path of greater wisdom.
You neglect not the inheritance of homo sapiens,
The abundant grey matter that crafts numberless tools from the rawness of the earth,
The accumulated wealth of experiments trials and errors
Until with the ease and swiftness of a vast herd of horses
We may travel this mountain from its foot to its crown
Conquering in the space of one brief nap the ascent that before
Consumed of us many hours and much labor.




(Do you then ask of me what goodness we find in our daily perambulations?
Should we not quickly upon wheels of mineral and sap advance each morn to our destination?
Nay, this question is foolishness, for the destination you imagine is no purpose
But only a point in the compass of the pack's knowledge.
For we traverse the ground upon our paws to know its smells and its sights
To trace the history of other packs as they have followed this path
And to know if they are good to avoid, good to meet in fellowship,
Or good to chase and growl upon.
In the grasses and the sod of our quartering, accident may bring unto us
Rich odors erstwhile uknown--for in other wilderness have we not discovered
The droppings of large hoofed hinds or small canines who are our cousins?
Therein we enlarge the territory of our mind.)

So my companion I offer my praise for this ascent and for this walk it allows unto us.

Oh for this here is a wondrous confluence of condensation and suspension
That makes the atmosphere all about us as a cooling bath.
Yea, tho' we tread the sharpened edge of the earth's incisor
Several hundreds of rods above the vast salted water of our home
Towering even above the broad valleys whose roads we traveled only this forenoon,
All is hidden now from us in this curtain of moisture.







Tho' the heat of the sun could parch and again weaken us
Yet these mists caress and protect us
So dense that even should a pack of fogdogs come to walk with us ,
Letting us to see with our eyes the territory below
Allowing the sun in gentleness to warm the furless hide of humans
Doubt not that it is a righteous place for your canine companions--




See upon the very pinnacle of the summit of the mountain of mansfield
This cooling and murky pool
In it I shall have my bath taking unto my coat its good water
And anointing it also with my water, the mark of Frida.



Exegesis and Commentary

ch.3, v.87-120 (catechism of the egg)

"And should the hand of human present to thee an egg from a chicken?
What dost thou with a gift of such worth?"

"Not one answer will suffice to answer this question,
For as many dogs as populate the world
So there are as many ways for taking the gift of an egg.
She who descends from the house of one breed and has grown up in the den of plenty, of full bowls and luxury,
She may sniff the egg with her nose and taste it with her tongue before taking it to swallow.
Yea, she may even bite of it only one half first to chew and to eat before retrieving the other
Never allowing the sharpness of her teeth to touch upon the weakly flesh of the human.
Thus she trusts in the hand and the egg and knows they shall abide in time to satisfy her hunger."



"But thine is not the house of one breed nor the puppyhood of plenty--
How dost thou with the egg of chicken held forth in the hand of human?"

"Yea, for she who descends from the abandoned barns and back alleys of canine anonymity,
Whose head and haunches are shaped by chance and promiscuity,
Whose name goes forth in the world as 'mongrel' or 'mutt' or 'heinz 57',
Whose puppyhood knew not snuggle balls and snausages--
She must linger over the egg of chicken neither with the sniffing of her muzzle nor the licking--
Nay, she wastes not the moment of generosity in queries and examinations
But seizes upon the riches of protein and fat that come before her."


"Thy counsel imparts great wisdom and knowledge unto dogkind,
But may it please thee also to address this quandary--
Should astonishment and trembling befall us upon receiving the egg
And should it then drop from our jaws and become unclean in the dust and the dirt,
What manner of redemption then?"


"Nay, this accident defiles not the oval portion of goodness
And need for redemption or even for delay impedes not the way of fulfillment
For as the egg itself is good so also is the earth that now coats its succulence.
It remains only for a dog to clean the lips of her mouth
And allow no morsel no crumb no iota, nay not even a particle of dust, to be lost."



"This truly is wisdom and experience, but please grant us further patience
And enlightenment as to this one last conundrum:
Should the hand of human or agentless circumstance bring before a dog
Instantly and at once a chicken and the egg of a chicken, of which should she partake first?"

"Yes."

[Here endeth the lesson.]

Commentary and Exegesis
The appearance of an interlocutor for Frida is new to me, but of course I have had many opportunities to observe Frida's communication with other dogs, so possibly this is the word distillation of a sharing of smells (one dog must know when another has eaten an egg) and body language. Maybe it also demonstrates the value of the dog elder, whose experience and judgement can be of value to young whippersnappers. Certainly Frida thinks it is her job to offer some guidance to young and rambunctious peers--she frequently takes it upon herself to bark at the tangle of playing adolesecents at a dog park.

I'm not sure why the "thee" and "thou" forms turned up in the queries here: maybe it also suggests the immaturity of the pupil, who is attempting formal sounding modes of address, somewhat awkwardly. Frida, of course, would not mind this, since she rather enjoys the obsequiousness of dogs even less confident than she is.

ch.3, v.41-86 (journey to mansfield)

O, dog, what augury whimpers to you of trials ahead?
Does a stench like sickness poison the break of day?
Does the kibble in your breakfast bowl form unto a fearsome snarl
warning you back to the warmth of your den?
No, dog, you cannot know this day before you have walked its paths.

For tho' the humans are puny of olfaction
and hear not the rustling of small rodents at many rods distance
still they view the plain from on high with keen eyes
and find us many good bowers of refreshment and sustenance
and carry magically about their person infinite stores of meaty treasures.

So on this day as on those past we embark upon our perambulation
with the humans--my companion, Karen Who Is Tall, and the Good Man Len--
who follow a broad path that opens unto us the verdant forest of this mountainside.
It is a generous habitat rich in smells and abundant of streams and mud holes.
I perform many and frequent ablutions anointing my coat with the goodness of the earth.


The path before us narrows but also the canopy becomes more dense
giving to us its protection from the rising sun of the day.
We slake our thirst and break the bread of midday upon tables of granite
where broad prospects of the long valleys below delight the eyes of the humans.
Many steep boulders we ascend sometimes where other hands
have crafted stairs from the stone so that we may climb.
Here now a cleft breaks apart our path and we must make as to leap across.





My companion, do you not see the awesomeness of the rock
that it begins to grow too high? The clefts in the path, a bit too broad?
And the forest about us, does it not shrink back from the sky--
the trees clinging with roots ever more naked to the steep face of granite?


Now you see the shade of the canopy has departed from us
and the lusciousness of the mud holes are seen no more.
No fragrance reaches my muzzle here unless it be the acrid absence of moisture.
The rich odor of earth tree and varmint is all behind us now.
Nor does the keenness of my ear discern above us the rush of water.
Your flasks colorful and transparent carry only a pittance of libation,
nay, not even enough in which to cool my paw.

Where do we climb to, humans? Where do we journey that there is no path
no water and no shade?
O the fire of the sun beats upon the many dark hairs of my head and back.
It bakes the stone beneath my pads.
My companion, your way is not good. It burns my brow and foot.
It parches my tongue which now unrolls almost to the slate upon which we climb.

Look upon me and know the unwisdom of your path.
See not only yourselves, nay, not if you would have us with you.
You must know also the furred hide that sweats not
and also the tender unshod pad.

This is my stopping place, this stunted tree, its twisted branches
shall intercede with the sun on my behalf and I shall dig from the scant dirt beneath it
a wanderer's portion of coolness. Nay, move me not. Here I remain.





Exegesis and Commentary

Here is one of the first opportunities I've had to record one of Frida's most obvious trials of faith--I think. It's hard for me to say, b/c the grounds for her despair are so substantial, if we are the object of her faith: when the dogs commit their way unto the humans, we so often fail them.

Anyway, our first day's hike, up the Crescent Ridge trail on Mt. Mansfield, was ultimately not the most successful from the dog's point of view. I don't think Frida actually had heat stroke, but we might not have been so far off, and it was good she made her limits very clear: her obstinacy, unlike Job's, won the day, and we turned back down the trail, tho' by that point she had to be coaxed along until we made it back to the place of plentiful mud holes, which she dearly loves.

And she was right. Len continued up to the summit, and he reported that the trail got even more challenging just up around the next bend, where he had to climb to continue. He came back down the Halfway House trail, which he described as "fit for neither man nor beast."

But we did see other people on these trails with dogs, so it is not entirely dog unfriendly, and of course Frida has had other fine camping and hiking experiences in Vermont, Western Mass., and New Hampshire. Mt. Mansfield was good, but challenging, hiking--it was just important to choose a trail carefully and to know when reaching the summit had become less important than enjoying the experience. But it was beautiful.