It's late evening and my heart is heavy. The little furry whom I was trying to capture in our kitchen, stumbled into one of my darlings rat traps. A loud, mortifying snap awoke me in my sleep. Earlier this evening I had caught another vole outside for Skipper, but as I introduced them a terrible quarrel ensued. With no choice left, I took the terrarium outside and released them both into the wild. Skipper's leg is healed. He's healthy, happy, and active. But saying goodbye to any such animal is hard. It was selfish of me to ever think I could keep him inside. He's wild heart, much like my gypsy soul. It would have been unfair to keep him for my own. He belongs to the vast tundra grass, just as I belong to my wondering caravan.
