Thankful

K and I had a happy but stinging cold walk this morning. We both felt happy. K's stitches were taken out yesterday, and I'm starting to feel hopeful that we'll be walking further soon. We're still waiting for the new pathology report on her toe that will tell us a lot about our future.

She implored me to walk a little further with those mesmerizing eyes. I cannot say no to those glittering pools of gold.

I tried to say no - but then she fixed this look upon me. Okay, okay, I said... but don't tell our wonderful vet.

We strolled to a new boulder with a nice gradual ramp on its back side that K could easily walk up onto it and then survey her kingdom.

After taking a few photos of her, my fingers were frozen - so no more photo taking. I stuffed them into my pockets with chemical handwarmers cradled next to my white fingertips. I sat on the boulder, briefly, with K, feeling thankful that she's getting stronger.

If K's healing from her toe amputation goes as I hope and the pathology report is good, I think that she'll be gazing from far more dramatic vistas this winter. This photo is from last winter - at my favorite rock viewpoint that is well beyond K's walking range right now.

And, if we're really lucky, K will be romping with her brother through piles of powdery snow late this winter. This photo is from last winter.

After our short walk this morning, I procrastinated and procrastinated, hoping that the temperature would hit double digits before I started my snowbike ride. Alas, I finally gave up on that goal. It was 7°F when I headed out the door, wearing so many layers that I looked twice my normal size.

The sky glowed in eggshell blue, so crisp and clear that I felt like clapping my hands would shatter the gorgeous landscape into a jumble of glass shards. I missed my K. The last time that I visited the viewpoint below, none of the bad luck had hit yet, and she was by my side. She'll be back, I kept telling myself.

As I rode, I found that I was warm, even toasty, at times. I've learned the layering game over the past few winters. I was alone in the forest, aside from the wildlife. At one point, I glimpsed our elk herd on the other side of a hulking boulder outcropping. I dropped my bike, climbed partway up the boulders, and spied on them. I imagined a mountain lion doing exactly the same thing, waiting for one elk to wander too close to his hiding place. This is a small faction from our more than 100-strong herd.

As I rode, my mind danced over the past year and the amazing things that have befallen me. A year ago, I dreamed of getting one photo of a bobcat with a wildlife camera. Now, I have a couple of bobcats who visit my house regularly. This bobcat sauntered out of our clearing as dusk fell last night. In fact, I was quite nearby at the time taking a short walk with K.

Perhaps the most magical thing that happened to me over the past year was that I stumbled upon an occupied bear den just weeks after my neck fusion surgery.

What exactly made me peek in the dark cavern behind the hole in the snow? I don't know but I am still thankful that I did - although my heart rate went through the roof when I realized that I was gazing at a family of groggy bears.

My good luck led to a sneak peek into the secret family life of bears. Here, the two cubs played together. I think that the big one was a male and the smaller one was a female. The male has probably found his own home range far away from here. However, to my delight, the female probably still wanders our forest, having been gifted part of her mother's home range.

 Their mother was never far away, watching and protecting.

Visions of bears in that den accompanied me for most of my snowbike ride today. I think that I had a grin permanently fixed on my face.

I have a camera pointed at that den but I haven't visited it since June. I feared that my scent would scare away potential den inhabitants because bears apparently check out potential dens all summer long. Here, a male who I've dubbed "Scarface" visited the den in early spring. 

He even went into the cave and stayed for a couple of minutes before departing. You can see his rump disappearing into the den in the photo below.

Before Scarface's visit, two other bears had checked out the empty den. After seeing these bears surveying the den real estate, I did my homework and found out that I needed to promise to stay away from the den until the coldest and darkest days of winter so that my scent wouldn't scare away the bears. I've kept my word and will continue to do so. The bears gave me a gift by showing me their den, and I see it as a covenant between us.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!