Dear Editor,
It was late afternoon, Monday at Cape Roger Curtis. A good friend was visiting from Saskatchewan and this was our last day together.
We walked the Cape and were sitting at the beach below the light ... a time of quiet, reflection and appreciation.
Both of us love to be in the natural world, sharing it in silence; listening, watching, noticing.
Wind was soft, waves lapped gently; cormorants, mergansers, an otter and seal; the sun was shining through a thin layer of cloud, reflecting silver/gold on the water.
We were enjoying the first picnic of the season.
Then…a strange noise changed everything….sounded like a hive of bees crossed with buzzing saw. I looked up and couldn’t believe it….a drone.
It flew from the right, circled the light, hovered, moved closer to us, retreated. But this didn’t happen one time, it happen at least six times.
Sometimes it was closer to us, sometimes it hovered for a while before moving on.
We felt intruded upon, watched, interrupted, our privacy invaded, our quiet connection with nature stopped. And I felt an incredible sadness.
What are we doing?
Cherie Westmoreland
