Radiant K

The wildlife was out hunting and foraging in our forest last night. The coyotes had trotted along almost every trail, purposefully heading for their next hunting ground. I can always tell the difference between coyote and dog tracks because coyotes move in a straight line, going directly to their destination while wasting no energy. In contrast, dogs loop back and forth, galloping at high speed and then rolling around on the ground, leaving "dog angels" next to their tracks.

Last night, a bobcat had hunted on a hillside of deep red boulders with snow-covered kinnikinnick in between them. He'd walk purposefully from one outcropping to the next. Then, when he reached a jumble of boulders, he'd slow down or even stop, leaving a maze of closely spaced pawprints.

K and I tracked the bobcat and so we were among the boulders for our whole hike.

 Some of the boulders that the bobcat had investigated overlooked the curtained Continental Divide.

K and I have tracked wildlife through fresh snow together so many times that we move in sync, almost without words. In the photo below, I'd asked her to "stay" while I looked closely at some tracks. When I looked up at her, she gave me a deep look, seeming to say "I am so happy to be in the forest with you again". I agree with all my heart, K.

K knows the rule that she must stay out of the tracks and behind me unless I tell her it's OK to investigate the tracks on her own. Today, when I released her, she started tracking with gusto, sticking her chocolate head deep into snowy juniper bushes to inhale the bobcat scents. She popped out of the bush looking radiant!

She also nibbled on one of her favorite forest foods, rose hips!

We had a wonderful hike together... making me feel like we're returning to normalcy after months of her paw saga. I am so grateful to have her in my life.

After my hike with K, R and I took a short mountain bike ride together over the new snow. It still isn't enough snow to deeply cover the dried mushrooms that litter the forest floor so R donned his muzzle. And, he did the "R snow roll" (as opposed to the "Cheoah snow slide"), accompanied by explosive snorting sounds.

When I gave him a break from the blasted muzzle (even I hate it), he stared into a juniper bush, hoping that a chipmunk would miraculously appear.

Near our house, we got 1-2" of fresh snow - not enough for me to ride the bona fide snow bike. So, I set out on my ice bike (a regular mountain bike with radically studded tires) and rode westward for my solo ride. As I traveled, the layer of fresh snow grew in depth rapidly. No one else had been on the trails (so they weren't packed), and I realized that I'd ridden the wrong bike. Then, I started laughing - how many people actually ever have the thought that "I chose the wrong bike for today"! Not many, I think.

When I started heading home along an exposed ridge, the snow depth became manageable again, and I whooshed along the deserted trails. I saw no people and only tracks from coyotes, bobcats, deer, and elk. It was a perfect ride.

It also turned into a very long ride due to my "wrong bike choice" and frozen Camelbak (so no drinking water) but I still had a mind-clearing, relaxing, and peaceful ride. For me, it beat going to the mall by many miles!!