It just goes on, forever.
Crossed by wary wild things.
And some smaller but bolder. This bundle of frenetic energy is a mink, a small, water-loving member of the weasel family.
It is so intent on its quest that it almost ignores me.
Spruce grouse keep watch on their own stretch of highway.
If there are any bats in the batbox, they are certainly asleep.
And the road – it just continues, rolling out of the park gate and into the rural provinces beyond.
You can never really know a path like this. As soon as you reach one end, the beginning has reinvented itself with the seasons and you have to start all over again.
Constant travelling. Constant learning. Life on the Canadian roads.
In cities, humans often try to kill Night. But in the wild, there are no lampposts or floodlit landmarks. Just the sky, painting the land as it will.
There are animals in these forests that seldom appear except in starlight. I have ambitions to find them – but in the meantime, the impossible colours steal the show.
And there is a king in waiting amongst the trees. This moose is a lot younger than the giant who showed up yesterday.
When night does fall, lights glow in the grass.
A lynx! Ghost cat of the forest. Even before we drew close, I recognised it – nothing else on earth produces such brilliant eyeshine. Eighteen years ago, I saw another Canadian lynx in the car headlights in British Columbia, and you never forget that glow.
This one is resting on the forest edge. I take a short movie – the photo is a still from it – and leave him be.
Days are not complete without Night. And no forest is complete without its cats.