Well, shoot.

Every so often I get this crazy idea that I am an "outdoor girl." This, despite my vehement protests to the contrary when I was 15 and my parents cruelly dragged me through various wooded areas of British Columbia in my platform shoes (I refused to pack sneakers).

It was in this spirit, as well as the spirit of "we're both strapped for cash," that I suggested my visiting boyfriend and I take not one, but two nature-type walks over this thanksgiving weekend. Outdoors, no less.

The first walk was lovely. The sun was all melted butter and honey over the fall colours of the trail and there was a spectacular view of the lake. We strolled along hand in hand, stopping to chat with birds and chipmunks, examine berries and apples and eat mint smoothies from my purse.

With the success of our first walk fresh in our minds, we happily headed out to another local trail system to see what it had to offer. This one was part of a conservation area. I assumed that conservation meant protecting the local plants and wildlife.

Not so much.

While the plants seemed to be flourishing, the boyfriend and I didn't pause long enough to observe much in the way of wildlife. We did spot one chipmunk and two tiny frogs, who were doing a rotten job of eating the cloud of mosquitos following us. But by the end of our woodland adventure, we were crashing through there so fast that no animal within a hundred yards of us would have stuck around long enough for us to spot it. Which, was probably good for them, as what had us in such a rush to end our leisurely stroll, was the almost constant sound of gunshots uncomfortably nearby.

Apparently the conservation area is not only a popular spot for hikers and horseback riders, but for very enthusiastic hunters. Shooting things. With guns. Go figure.

Next time I feel the need to do something crazy like commune with nature, maybe I'll just head back to my hometown and hang out with the squirrels in the park.

Or this parrot I met downtown.