Solo Date with My Fur Bestie (and a Very Unexpected Encounter) - April 2, 2026

Today wasn’t about chasing the perfect photo. It wasn’t about checking off a list or finding something rare. It was about slowing down.

Finn and I went on a little solo date just me and my fur best buddy, Finnegan the kitten.

My goal was simple: let him explore at his pace… and maybe, just maybe, let him teach me to do the same.

And he did.

What should have been a quick walk turned into something much slower, much deeper. The kind of pace where you begin to notice the small things the things that are always there, but so easy to miss.

Tiny birds tucked into spring blossoms.

Quiet movements in the trees.

Life unfolding in soft, subtle ways.

It takes effort to notice those things.

To slow down enough to actually see them.

At one point, I came across a group of juvenile crows in a parking lot, picking away at crabs. It wasn’t some grand wilderness moment—but it was real, raw, and happening right in front of me. And I realized… I would have completely missed it if I hadn’t been moving slower.

But the moment that truly stopped me…

A juvenile Turkey Vulture.

I didn’t even see him at first. And then, he moved. I’ll be honest… he startled me. That sudden awareness of something large and wild so close by. But instead of rushing away, I slowed myself down. I walked gently around him.

And he stayed.

Cautious. Watching me just as closely as I was watching him.

We sized each other up in that quiet, unspoken way that happens between human and wild creature. For a few moments, we simply existed together in the same space.

He even posed, calm, grounded, almost curious as I took a few photos.

And then, with quiet confidence, he lifted himself into the air and moved to a nearby tree, giving me one last chance to watch him before the moment passed.

And as I stood there, something shifted in me.

Turkey vultures are often misunderstood. People see them and think of decay, of endings. But spiritually… they represent something much deeper.

They are cleaners of the earth. Transformers. They take what is no longer living… and return it to the cycle of life.

And in that moment, I couldn’t help but feel like this encounter was a quiet reminder: That not everything we experience is meant to be held onto. Some things are meant to be released… transformed… and returned to the earth in a different way.

There was something incredibly grounding about standing with him in the heat of the day, in the stillness, with Finn beside me.

The attitude....was it needed? No....LOL.

It felt like a message about letting go.

About trusting the natural cycles of life.

About understanding that even in what looks like an ending… there is purpose.

It was a hot day.

The sun was high overhead.

Finn was at my feet.

And the natural world wrapped itself around us.

What should have taken far less time turned into over an hour—muddy, a bit more of a hike than we expected, and honestly… a little messy.

But also perfect.

I was so proud of Finn. He trotted beside me for most of the journey, learning, adapting, exploring. (Though, when it came time for photos… he made it very clear, no photos, Mom. Every time I tried, he turned his head away.)

We’re still learning each other out there. Still figuring out what it means to be adventure buddies.

But today felt like a big step.

Because it wasn’t just about the wildlife.

Or the photos.

Or even the hike.

It was about sharing this world together.

And realizing that sometimes, the most meaningful experiences don’t come from going farther… but from simply slowing down enough to truly see what’s already right in front of you.