Recently on our daily walks me and the Kelpies have been walking the mile to the south pasture in the hopes that I might see the cows, who recently calved.

In this pasture is my favourite sitting stone which I haven’t sat at for some time. On the first trek out here it became evident how much I have missed this spot/this pause in time. I didn’t want to leave it. Every trip out here I feel a settling in my spirit, the calling and connection to a familiar place that always holds space for you. This spot has been that right from the first time I ever set foot here.

It repeatedly happens that I get caught up in regular life and forget this simple treasure but always the land and/or the dogs pull me back and call me home so to speak and more often than not that pulling back happens precisely when I need it most.

The prairie space, the dogs – to have both as part and parcel of every day life is wealth beyond measure.

The ground squirrel in these photos was caught and promptly killed by an adult guardian dog but not eaten. The pups never ate it either, but they played with the little carcass over and over for three-four days before it was so chewed up there was only scraps of it left. By virtue of the fact that they spend their days living out in natural spaces guardian dogs can, and do, kill other animals, although no one wants to share this side of their nature. They can raid nests, kill snakes and small mammals, and on the rare occasion kill foxes, coyotes and other canines in their pack.

We want to hold fast to the idea of them as overseers of our flock and as guardian angels but what they are, and arguably, what they deserve to be seen as, is guardian dogs. As we become more and more fixated on dogs being our children rather than being canine, photos like these will shock.

As long as we don’t know, or want to see, what Mother Nature is really up to we can live behind the curtain of all is well. We can love Mother Nature because we can sit in her glorious sunsets and believe there is no cruelty and no acts of violence playing out in her world. But can we really know and love Mother Nature without getting to know the cruelty and acts of violence that naturally exist in her world? Can we really know and love ourselves if we remain disconnected from Mother Nature?

A couple weeks back I posted photos on Instagram of Crows and Magpies being around the lambing pasture and causing grief through lambing. That stirred some ill feelings towards the birds. But the death of this ground squirrel by the dogs doesn’t make us quite as willing to pile onto dogs as nuisance animals.

We don’t want to admit that we favour and rank one species above another, or that we place a value on death based on our attachment to the life lost. But we do. (This behavior very apparent in my life during lambing season). We rank different deaths as more or less tragic all the time; indeed it is natural to do so. The tragedy is that we now do so without noticing, without pausing to let death, or loss of ecosystem, or ruination of habitat, touch the bone deep part of us that aches for any loss, and thus heightens our respect for nature and our gratitude for living.