We often go for walks along a gravel trail next to a river (see above) just a few steps from our apartment building. As we head to the mall along that trail, we sometimes stop to chat with neighbours — as we would from a backyard if we had one.
There’s one new neighbour we haven’t run into yet.
According to one of the security guards, when #NorthVanBruin got up on its hind legs to bang on the apartment window, it was so startled by its own reflection, it ran off. A week later, the guards who took the photos above from inside their small curbside office persuaded the mild-mannered bear (likely the same one) to leave merely by telling it to “Shoo!”
It was probably just foraging for a last meal before hibernating. Why not check out a security office for goodies? Maybe #NorthVanBruin got a whiff of a guard’s graveyard-shift snack when it showed up at 3:09 am? Not much else on offer at that hour.
Our other new neighbour is a grandfatherly enigma. We often encounter an elderly gentleman pushing a stroller along the river trail. Whenever we run into him, rain or shine, hot or cold, the stroller’s hood is always pulled all the way forward. A heavy blanket is draped over the stroller’s occupant (the part we can see), and a plastic cover when it’s raining. We’ve never seen or heard the baby — if there is one. No crying, gurgling, or fussing from underneath that blanket. No little foot poking out from an overlooked chink in the wrapping.
We’ve seen Stroller Gentleman sitting on a bench, stroller parked next to him, looking intently at his phone. His eyes never meet ours, and we’ve never seen him stop to talk with anyone.
But then why walk an empty stroller? Maybe it’s his grocery cart? Or it keeps him steady on the gravel trail?
Or maybe the baby is sound asleep every time we pass him, at different times of day, in all weathers? I’ve never known a baby that sleeps that much. Mine certainly didn’t.
I may never find out. It’s driving me crazy.
No comments:
Post a Comment