Happy Saturday!

These days, I feel so very thankful that this amazing dog came into my life.

We are having so much fun together. Our clicker training is a blast - Shyla completely "gets it" now and is learning tricks very fast. Moreover, we had a stupendous outing to town yesterday. And, I adore snow biking with her!

She's at home on our trails and is an incredible athlete.

On top of all that, she's sweet and sensitive. Her sensitivity makes some things harder for her (like getting used to an urban setting) but it also makes her a wonderful friend.

Today, as Shyla and I headed up toward Hug Hill, we were treated to the sight of a huge flock of Bohemian Waxwings. Apparently, these berry-eating birds are appearing in lots of places south of their normal wintering grounds. One report says that the berry crop that they usually eat further north failed. I hope that they're finding enough to eat here.

The flock looks like a hundred or more to me. The photo just shows a fraction of the flock as they flew past me.

 Enjoy the rest of your weekend!

P.S. To those of you who asked about yesterday's post, the mountain lions do come out in daytime, and I've captured lots of daytime trail camera photos of them in the past. However, they are very wary of people and are rarely seen. I do get a little scared when I realize that one was recently in the spot where I'm checking a trail camera but I honestly believe that it's more risky to drive on my steep mountain road on a snowy day than to ride my bike through mountain lion territory.

Small adventures

Yesterday, as our storm hit, the wild birds busily flew to and fro our bird feeder, storing up energy for the cold night ahead. Indeed, it reached -7°F overnight. This Downy Woodpecker had suet in his stomach to help him through the night. He returned to the feeder at dawn, after a night roosting in a tree with his feathers ruffled up to help him stay warm.

Yesterday afternoon while the woodpecker ate voraciously, the Duo and I hiked out into snow and plummeting temperatures. Both dogs soon resembled 'snowdogs' from snow falling from the sky and from burrowing in the snow on the ground.

R with his faraway eyes...

The earnest look... "Yes, I do deserve treats!".

K deserved them too!

The snow brought out the wild puppy in both of them.

This morning, the storm had lost its fury. The sky was still steel gray but the snow had stopped falling. Despite the frigid cold, I eagerly anticipated tracking animals in the fresh snow. However, I was disappointed. Almost no animals had walked our forest floor overnight - they must have curled up in warm dens to endure the arctic blast.
The only tracks that I spotted were made while K and I hiked in the forest. Mule deer and coyotes ambled across our tracks while we were out. This coyote photo is from a remote camera and was taken a couple of days ago.

Since it was a full 10 degrees colder this morning than yesterday afternoon, I thought that K would like to wear four boots to keep her toes warm - they seemed cold in yesterday's relatively balmy weather. Alas, I was wrong. K didn't like the boots at all, although I did manage to cajole her into some galloping in the fresh snow.

This morning, her frosty muzzle was caused by the frigid air rather than snow.

Near the end of our hike, the sun feebly attempted to burn through the cloud veil with K watching intently.

After walking with K, I put on more layers than I ever thought possible, and I went out for a snowbike ride. Within minutes of starting my ride, both wheels slid sideways on a downhill, and I fell with a thud. Fortunately, I emerged unscathed except for a sorer than usual neck. Sometimes I wish that I could learn to curb my tendency to test my limits... but then I realize that I'll never be capable of that, no matter what. I need small adventures to paint my world in vivid colors rather than a dull monochrome.

Shortly later, the clouds had lifted slightly and blue mingled with the gray sky. I couldn't think of a better place to be.

To my amazement, I considered taking off some layers as I warmed up in the weak sun rays.

That thought was fleeting. In my confident and warm state, I decided to ride up to Hug Hill. As I ascended, the wind off the Divide hit me and stole my body heat, whooshing it toward Kansas. The wind hurled the snow out of the treetops, making me feel like I was climbing a lofty peak in the Himalayas rather than an 8500' hill in the Rockies. I kept pedaling through a haze of flying snow.

Never one to quit partway to a goal, I pedaled to the top of Hug Hill despite the wind, standing on the exposed peak for less than a nanosecond. It was bitterly cold in the fury of the wind on the summit. As fast as possible, I pointed my wheels straight downhill and enjoyed a wild ride down a steep, slippery, and rocky slope toward home.

Here's to an adventurous 2011!

Summer beauty cures all pains

As any of you who suffer from chronic pain know, some days ain't so easy. Today was one of those. Rather than go on and on about it, I'll focus on the beauty around me.

Yesterday evening, we took a short hike and ate a picnic while watching the golden orb fall toward the snowy mountains.
During our outing, my hiking partner and I commented that it's easy to overlook the brilliance of our Golden Banner flowers because they're everywhere. So, we stopped to appreciate one single plant. Look what was on that plant - the most beautifully camouflaged bugs (I don't know what kind) that I've ever seen. We then searched adjacent plants... and found no more of these exquisite bugs.
This morning, I knew from the instant that I opened my eyes that it wasn't going to be one of my best days physically - the pain from the knots in my neck muscles had ratcheted up an octave. But, I also knew that the race of summer is underway. There was NO way that I was passing up mountain biking time in the forest with my chocolate best friend. We stopped in a peaceful spot, listening to the wind whoosh off the mountains, and K made a funny face. She makes me smile every single day!
When we stopped in a meadow that we visited for the first time this season, K walked the balance beam for me and then briefly paused to ponder a scent in the air.
As we stood there, a flash of red passed over us and landed on a pine branch - a Cassin's finch, posing just for me!
As we wound through an aspen grove, I heard raucous squawking from a hole in a large tree. Then, I noticed a male Hairy Woodpecker perched nearby with a bug in his beak, waiting for me to leave so that he could deliver it to his brood. The animals are so busy in our short summer!
Only a few yards further along, I noticed a plethora of short-lived flowers, Shooting Stars, that flourish in wet grassy areas. After our weekend of rain, they're having a wild party, the wildest that I've seen in a long time.
How can a girl stay morose with a world like this one surrounding her? It just ain't possible.

Black Bear Parade

Yesterday evening, we zoomed out for a hike during a break in the pelting cold rain. We first walked toward the road for a moment, and our leashed dogs erupted into frenzied barking. We spotted a bear who'd just crossed road and ambled away from us into the forest behind a neighbor's house. Because K vibrated and snarled with aggressive excitement and yanked on me, my photo turned out blurry.
Based on a bear so close to houses, it's not terribly surprising that a veritable bear parade was moving through Black Bear Trail, an isolated wildlife corridor deep in the forest. I'm guessing that at least three bears made appearances. The two who were obviously adults marked the sapling by scratching their backs against it. Both also used a bizarre stiff-legged gait just before and after marking the tree, where they stomped their paws hard into the ground and swung their legs out wide.

In the very first clip in the video, it looks as if the bear is hurt because of this bizarre gait. In fact, I believe that he'd just marked a tree that was barely outside my cam's detection zone and was still using his stiff-legged gait. When he arrived at the next camera, he walked normally until he was close to the marking tree. I'm calling "him" a "he" for convenience. I don't know his sex. However, I'm guessing that the two starring adults are tracking each other down by scent and may form a breeding pair.

Finally, a small bear passed one of the cams. I wish that we could see him better but his cinnamon coat makes me wonder if he's one of the yearling cubs who was in the den that I monitored this winter. That would make sense, particularly if his mom was one of the earlier bears to pass the cams. Yearlings often trail their mothers from a distance soon after the family break-up.

Enjoy the video!



On another front, K and I had a freezing bike ride in zinging cold rain interspersed with graupel, wet icy pellets. Even my tough Labrador looked a bit dubious of our outing at times.
Graupel covered her at various times, and she couldn't look up for a photo because it stung her eyes.
Most animals, aside from the parading bears, seemed to be hunkered down. However, an unfortunate Gray Jay family had fledglings who appeared to have just left the nest. They cawed insistently and tried to follow their parent from tree to tree despite their difficulty in learning to land on the slippery branches. Below, the fledgling has his beak open, raucously yelling "FOOD, FOOD, FOOD"! I hope that they survive this cold snap.
Pine boughs dripped with rain. One advantage to this rain is that it might take down all the pine pollen, averting our yearly pine pollen dust cloud that lasts for about a week. It covers everything, and I truly mean every single object, in green dust. Last year, a storm like this one washed all the pollen to the ground and we had no asthma-inducing pine pollen storm! I'm hopeful for this year...
I was glad to arrive home, and I spent a long time in a very hot shower trying to get blood to flow to my toes and fingers!

So There, Mr. Truck Driver!

I woke up and peered at the skylights to see if we'd had more snow. I didn't like the answer the snow-shuttered glass panes gave me. But, then I glanced toward the east. Wow.
When I walked outside to decide whether I could ride my bike, a pristine white and blue world met me.
I perused our dirt road, and the snow hadn't started melting yet. With my gnarly studded tires, I felt certain that I could ride my mountain bike on the road. I rushed back to the house, donned my cycling gear, and headed out. Alas, while I'd been changing clothes, the road had turned into a roux of mud and slush, interrupted by an occasional pond of brown slushy water.

Most drivers around here are incredibly kind, giving me lots of room, and trying not to spray me with road slush. Some drivers even stop to let me cross a slush pond ahead of them to avoid spraying me. So, today, when a pickup truck driver stopped on the opposite side of a muddy slush pond and waved me to go through it, I initially thought "What a nice guy!".

But, his intentions were not as kind as I thought. He was setting me up for a mud and slush shower. As I started to pedal through the abyss, he accelerated directly toward me and swerved away at the last minute, covering me in a spray of muddy slush from head to toe. A not-so-nice string of words poured out of my mouth but I refrained from saluting him. A multi-ton truck will always win over a bike.

I was soaked to the bone, covered in mud, and couldn't see through the sludge on my sunglasses. It took a mighty mental struggle not to head directly home. But, I reasoned that if I aborted my ride, the idiot in the truck would have won. So, I kept riding, and the intense sun began to dry my clothes. By the end of the ride, I was comfortable again and having FUN. So there, Mr. Truck Driver!

The main reason why I went out on my bike in such horrid conditions was that I thought that my recent neck flareup had been caused by a snow-induced layoff from outdoor riding. It seems as if I was right. I felt the muscle knots ease while I rode, and they haven't returned. So there, Mr. Truck Driver!

Once I'd wiped the sludge off my glasses and had started to dry, I noticed the beauty of the world around me. The snowy and cloud-veiled mountains:
A half-thawed pond with two barely visible ducks paddling in it. Those are hardy souls!
By the time I finished my ride, the blue sky had turned to gray and snow drifted down from it. I took off my entire outer layer in the basement and stowed it in a garbage bag for direct transport to the washer.

In the subdued light of a mild storm, the Labraduo and I went for a wander. They obsessed over rodents. R stood with his ears cocked and then pounced like a coyote. He started digging and K soon assisted him.
K quickly lost interest but R had to be lured away from the hole. I suspect that there was a rodent under there somewhere!
Near a viewpoint, the duo practiced a sit-stay. R has finally matured enough to reliably hold stays for me in the forest. It's such a convenient skill for a dog to have.
I asked him to hold another stay a little later in front of a fabulous view. However, I don't think that it's possible to capture the details of a black dog's face AND the bright mountain background. So, this photo lets you see our handsome boy.
We meandered through aspen groves, and found a nest hole that a Flicker pair was renovating. They'd pulled a lot of dried grass and other nest material out of the hole, and it littered the ground below the tree. For many years, Williamson's Sapsuckers nested in this hole. Last year, the Sapsuckers moved to a tree about 20 yards away because the Flickers had usurped the prime nest site.
Actually, I'm surprised that it's a prime site. Look at the bear claw marks climbing up to it. Perhaps the cavity is too deep for a bear tongue to steal eggs or nestlings.
When I arrived home, I discovered interesting coyote interactions recorded on my wildlife cameras. A lone coyote often forages under our birdfeeders at night. Two nights ago, a second coyote arrived and immediately started badgering the lone, and probably less dominant, coyote. The aggressor briefly departed, and then returned, making a beeline straight for the lone coyote. I found the similarities to dog body language to be uncanny. Enjoy!

Zany springtime

Springtime in the mountains is zany, imitating the wild ride of a back surgery recovery. K and I rolled out under looming dark clouds but the forecast said that the storms had missed us so I was optimistic.
The forecast was wrong. Thank goodness that I dressed for a snowstorm because that's what we got! Both K and I were having trouble keeping our eyes open because the snowflakes pelted out of the sky like tiny asteroids aimed directly at our eyes.
I thought about turning around and going home. But, then, I thought about all the days that I'd pined for a bike ride but couldn't take one due to doctor's orders. So, I put my head down and pedaled, remembering how lucky I was to be out on my bike.
We circled the network of trails that's free of snow, and just before heading back home, the aerial assault ended. We made a quick detour to a view point where a slight glow of light emanated from just above the mountaintops.
K managed to keep her eyes open for this photo, taken as the storm's fury died out.
And, then before we made it home, the mountains glimmered and glistened in the sunshine. The birds who had hidden in the canopy or in tree holes ventured out and began singing, albeit tentatively at first. I smiled and remembered my motto that if I don't go out into the elements, I won't feel the special moments like the forest's reawakening as a storm wanes.
After I dropped off K at home, my back felt good enough for some more riding and the sun shined warmly. I headed for a trail that's been closed by snow since November. I wanted to be the first to explore it - even if I needed to walk my bike over a few snow drifts. Before getting to that trail, I spotted the mountains once again. Wow, they looked nothing like they had less than an hour earlier.
As I floated down a steep and rocky hill into an aspen grove flourishing in the moisture of a hollow, I spotted a Northern Flicker flitting off of an aspen tree and onto a higher perch. He chirped alarm calls from high above me. On every passage through this grove, I've seen Flickers behaving just like this for the past few springs. Today, I finally stopped my bike to look around.
I immediately spotted a large and newly renovated nest hole in the biggest aspen tree near the trail. Voila - that hole is probably why I've seen Flickers in this grove every spring for years.
Here's a photo of a Northern Flicker leaving his nesthole, in an aspen near my house, last June.
My eyes scanned the tree and, whoa, I saw claw marks on the tree. Several sets climbed up toward the nesthole's height but stopped there. I'm guessing that bears have tried to steal the eggs or nestlings on more than one occasion.
Then, I noticed some fairly fresh scratch marks that looked different. The pattern didn't fit the normal pattern of a bear's claw marks. In fact, I immediately wondered if these marks were left by the stiletto sharp claws of a cat. Notice that only three claws left marks, although the fourth claw mark was a tiny puncture near the far right of the other marks. If a cat left these grooves, it had to have been a mountain lion, based on the height of the marks and the large paw size.
Sometimes it's hard to remember to stop and notice things, especially when I'm in familiar territory. I've ridden past this particular tree hundreds of times, and I've seen the Flicker every spring for years. Yet, I've never stopped to investigate before today. Quite a story was playing out right next to one of my favorite trails but I hadn't seen it.

In the same little grove, I noticed a Pasqueflower with its petals clenched tightly closed. These early bloomers can close their blossoms more tightly than the wildflowers that bloom later in the steady warmth of summer. Moreover, Pasqueflowers don't reopen their flowers until quite a while after the bad weather passes.
The rest of my ride was glorious. As I wound my way through pine forests, the sun baked the wet pine needles and a sweet aroma wafted from the forest floor. The pine tree canopy filtered the sun's rays, and those rays illuminated the dripping pine boughs. I breathed deeply and smiled.

My back felt better after the ride than before it, as almost always is the case. I think that I'll be back to my pre-concert condition within a few days. I have to admit that my spine's reaction to relatively benign activity, like going to a concert, scared me.

I hope that I have a long and winding road of adventures in the forest ahead of me, like the trail heading to the horizon that I rode today. But, I never can be sure so I try to remember to slow down and enjoy each day.