So there, pain!

I've had a rough 24 hours. Something caused my cervical (neck) spine pain to escalate beyond my threshold. This morning, the muscles between my neck and head still spasmed relentlessly, even after a full night's sleep. It's a sign that something's not right in the section of my neck where I had surgery a year ago.

As I tried to decide how to spend my day, I looked at the thermometer and it read -7°F. Snow whipped out of the gray sky. I was sorely tempted to give up the never-ending battle, take my pain meds, and go back to bed.

My rational side has learned over the years that the "go to bed" strategy makes me feel worse, both physically and psychologically. So, when the Runner and the Duo invited me to cross country ski with them early this morning, I accepted. I'm certain that I wasn't delightful company but the outing started shifting my attitude in a better direction.

The Duo didn't mind the extra load of snow that fell overnight, bringing us up to a deep snowpack, that varies from 6" to 3' depending on where you stand after yesterday's wind. The combination of fresh snow and the arctic temperature made it a 'white face day' for the canines.

I stopped to enjoy their goofy snow-decorated faces.

They worked hard, galloping like wild mustangs through almost bottomless snow.

K was ready to go home after a relatively short outing. At excruciating low temperatures, her paw bothers her.

Selfishly, I felt sad that she couldn't join me for more time in the forest. Her companionship cheers me immensely. I take care of her and she takes care of me. It's a two-way street.

So, I wrestled with how to do some biking - since cycling is always the best medicine for my spine. Given the unrideable trails, the extraordinary cold, and the snow still falling out of the sky, I debated whether to ride a stationary bike indoors or try to ride on the snow-packed dirt roads. After hemming and hawing for much too long, I decided to "go for it". I took out my snow bike and rode to a couple of narrow and quiet private roads. I did a short ride, to the end and back of each of them.

I'm so glad that I went out into the arctic world. One reason is that I met the elk herd, spread out over an endless meadow. Most of them lay in the snow, not bothering to munch on the tall dry grass still protruding from the deep layer of snow. A few elk were up and about, lazily chewing on their low calorie diet. I honestly don't know how such massive animals survive the winter with so little food available.

This guy is a calf, born last spring in the high meadows of our mountains. It's his first winter. I wonder what he thinks of it?

He turned to examine me - and I found that he had a white face just like the dogs!

I delighted in watching the herd who seemed very relaxed despite my presence. It brought home the lesson that it's almost always better to go out into the natural world rather than sitting on a stationary bike in my house. But, it's not always easy to overcome the "victim perspective" that chronic pain tends to produce and push myself out the door. The relentlessness of the pain wears me down, making it harder to get moving. By going out and doing something that I love, I feel like I defeat the pain in a small way. I actually think "So there, pain!". And, I feel happier, even if the pain doesn't go away.

I'm sorry to focus so much on pain in this post. Spine pain is with me every single day but usually I can overlook it. Not today.

Let it snow!

Yesterday afternoon, an unexpected snow storm hit. The forecast was for snow showers but we already had a fresh 4-6" by the time the Duo and I hiked.

The Duo was ecstatic about the snow, playing a lunatic game of chase the dog who has the stick. Since K's toe amputation, she's been the chaser in stick games and rarely actually catches R unless he lets her.

Not yesterday. She turned on the afterburners and snagged the stick. For the first time in recent memory, R was chasing K!

It kept snowing as we hiked. The fresh snow was so slick that I canceled my plans to explore a steep ravine. We enjoyed the silence and solitude as our world was transformed.

This morning, it didn't even cross my mind that it might be too much snow to plow through with my snow bike. So, I headed out as usual. Soon, I was floundering and fishtailing. Riding was an exercise in futility because the trails weren't packed down even slightly.

Because we stayed on the main trail, we saw our neighbor with a pack of 6 dogs (2 of her dogs stayed home today). The dynamic of these meetings evolves as the neighbor's pack composition changes. Her GSD is a relatively new member of the pack. When he first joined the pack, he was all fun and games but now he's become competitive about human attention. He tries to get between me and K and then intimidates her when she wriggles back to her normal position. In the photo below, K has claimed the coveted position next to my bike, and he is telling her to move.

My neighbor said that she wanted to record my craziness (biking in a foot of fresh snow) for posterity. In this photo, you can see the GSD has taken over K's spot. At his heart, he's a big sweetie so K and I can handle his pushiness.

Soon, K and I turned toward home to trade the bike for cross country skis.

As we restarted our outing, now on skis, the snow bombarded us.

K led the way, plowing through the snow like a barge, making my job of breaking trail slightly easier.

She kept looking back at me as if to say "What's holding you up?".

K made her own fun while I plodded along in the fresh deep snow. She porpoised like a graceful dolphin through the sea of snowflakes.

We arrived home sleepy and content. Our forest needed this snow, and it was fun to have a change of pace!

We saw almost no animal tracks in the forest. However, shortly after we arrived home, a coyote passed through our clearing. I captured his image as he departed.

He hurried away - seemingly knowing that he'd been spotted.

I don't know what coyotes do during big storms. I don't think that they go into dens. I like to visualize them under the protection of the boughs of a bushy pine tree, all piled together keeping each other warm.

I never see bobcat tracks during a storm. I suspect that they find small small caves and hole up for the duration of bad weather, emerging to feverishly hunt after the storm ends. While I packed down the trails with my skis today, I grinned as I imagined the bobcats and coyotes using my paths after the storm is over to go find food for their empty stomachs.

The skies cleared by the end of the day. The temperature plummeted as the sun set, stinging my face with the bite of cold, but the four of us enjoyed an easy ski to end the day underneath the umbrella of an eggshell blue and pink sky.

The clouds lift and coyote mystery

We're spoiled here in Colorado with about 300 days a year of sunshine. So, gray skies yesterday and this morning seemed to color the world morose. However, we had a fun evening ski with our best furry friend, JB, who joined us to romp in the snow.
Clouds hid the sunset but the spirits of the dogs didn't match the cloudy atmosphere.
The dogs seemed wired from being on their best behavior for days. K careened around the forest with her friends but came when called.
Lots of wild stick wrestling dominated the ski.
This morning, although the forecast insisted that it would be a sunny day, the skies still hung low and dark with snow showering through the air.
Then, suddenly, around noon, blue sky blasted through the clouds, beckoning us out for an adventure. Even the moon shined low in the sky, captured near the bottom of the photo.
We skiied up to see our mountains brightly shining with new snow behind our jet-black R.
A closer look at those snowy peaks awed me. I feel such peace when I imagine myself hiking though summer wildflowers in those mountains. And, I'm mentally insisting that I'll be capable of those hikes by next spring.
Although it was mid-afternoon, the lazy sun arced close to the horizon, casting long shadows from trees, boulders, and R.
Yesterday, I mentioned that a coyote visited our clearing in midafternoon. We've learned to recognize this particular coyote because she's visited regularly since last May. As of yesterday, she has a new ear injury. In the photo below, her right ear has a torn spot, as if she was recently injured in a fight. I wonder what happened to her. Perhaps she fought with another coyote over territory. That guess topped my list because this coyote is the only one who frequently appears alone. Occasionally, she appears with two others, who always travel as a pair. That pair may be the dominant breeding couple of our territory and may be trying to drive this one out. It's also possible that this coyote tussled with a bobcat or lion, escaping relatively unscathed with only a torn ear.She's still beautiful despite the torn ear, in my opinion.

Wild happiness and peace

I started my day with a dawn bike ride - one of my favorite things on Earth. I pedaled in crackling cold 4°F air. I saw the sun crest a rocky dome and felt lucky to be alive.
No humans besides me had yet ventured onto our roads. So, the animals still ruled. A small group of elk burst out of an aspen forest as I pedaled past a meadow. It constituted less than a quarter of the herd. I'm not sure where the other 80 elk were hiding.
I rode on in a grayish pink world and noticed a flash of brilliance. Red willow branches swayed in the wind, shining brightly against the deep blue-gray sky.
When I arrived home, the youngest family members buzzed with anticipation. But first, they put the dogs through their paces. Over the past few days, the dogs' respect for the small boys amazed me. The funniest thing was that the boys would tell the dogs to 'stay' but then they would forget to release them. I'd find a canine sitting at attention all alone in the middle of the floor. What good dogs, waiting to be released!
Later in the day, we were preparing for a cross-country ski and romp in the snow when a coyote meandered into our clearing. We watched her through the window, closely examining her with a spotting scope. That scope allowed us to discern that 'she' is a 'she'!
We scared off the coyote before heading out to let the dogs romp through the snow.
They sprinted with wild abandon.
And, at the end of a fabulous day, they snoozed, snuggled close together on their bed.I wish you all the blissful peace that the Labraduo exude.

Sweet respite

This morning, I watched the sky change from impenetrable blackness, to inky blue, to bright blue from my indoor bicycle trainer. The sun finally touched the treetops, illuminating them like candles. The world beckoned me outside with the promise of fluffy fresh snow and blue skies.When my family departed for the local downhill ski area, I sprinted out the door to cross country ski with my black and chocolate furry friends. They seized the moment, sprinting like wild bears through our snowy meadow, wrestling ferociously for a stick.
And, finally joining canine forces to porpoise through the snow together, one set of jaws clamped on each end of the most important stick in the universe.
We skiied to the zenith of our local trails, enjoying the alpine view.
R decided to lend his handsome face to the photo.
We skiied off-trail, looking for promising sites for the wildlife camera. The new snow foiled our search, erasing all animal signs except fresh tracks. As we searched, a chickadee chattered at us from a snow-pillowed pine bough.
The canines loved the unbroken powder, swimming through its depths and getting frosty faces!
Near the chickadee, the Labraduo decided to jump onto a boulder, a perfect photo pose!
At the very end of our sojourn, the wind kicked up, blowing the snow pillows off the trees and creating a white out. K hunkered down to wait for the gust to pass.
Aside from that sudden blast of wind, it was a blissful and peaceful ski through the forest. I had the gift of an hour of little pain while I skiied. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders, freeing me to relax and enjoy our beautiful world.

Bobcats, coyotes, and unique viewpoints

Yesterday afternoon, I checked the infrared wildlife camera that I have set up on a east-facing slope above the meadow in a spot where I've seen myriad bobcat signs over the years.

As I checked the images, it became clear why the bobcat checks this spot regularly. Rabbits hang out here.
In fact, the bunnies come and go from a hole beneath the boulder. Compare this photo to the one above. Do you see the difference? I laughed and laughed at the 'peek-a-boo'! If you click on the image, the trickster's cute face shows up more clearly.
The next night, our ferocious looking feline visited. When I see a wild cat, one of the first things I check is tail length. If it's a short stubby tail, it's a bobcat (or lynx, but they're not in my area). If a long slender tail trails the cat, it's a mountain lion. No doubt, based on the tail, size, and coat, this feline is a bobcat.
My camera is set up to take three photos in row whenever something moves in its field of view. The next photo was a few seconds later, and the cat had moved toward the boulder.
Then the third in the series shows the cat starting to move along the base of the boulder, where the rabbit den entrance hides.
Here's a zoomed in view of the stocky bobcat from the photo above. He looks so muscular and healthy.
Then, inexplicably, my camera took no photos for the next 2 minutes. I'm guessing that the bobcat stayed around the site for those 2 minutes (it's programmed to take photos almost continuously while there's an animal in the field). The final photo showed the hind end of the bobcat as he departed. It's not a great photo - but I think that it gives a hint that he's a male... I'll let you reach your own conclusions.
Based on this series of photos, I decided to move the camera closer to the boulder. The infrared flash will illuminate the bobcat better, and perhaps the sensor will trigger when he's at the base of the boulder. He left fresh scat there so I know that the camera missed some 'action'. I'm still learning how to optimize this camera's performance. However, so far, I don't love it. The night-time images aren't great, and it doesn't always take photos when I think that it should.

On the plus side, it is achieving my goal of learning whether my interpretations of animal signs like tracks and scat tend to be correct. In this case, the camera has affirmed my long-term guess that a bobcat visited this spot regularly. Once I feel more confident in how to optimize the camera's performance, I have other places in mind for checking my animal tracking skills.

This morning, the pups and I headed out on touring skis under gloomy yet beautiful skies.
I started with a very long recall, at least 100 yards across the meadow, to give the dogs a training challenge. I left the duo in a sit-stay. I had some trouble convincing R to assume the sitting position, and K gave him the big-sisterly 'look'.
Once R settled into a sit, he held his stay during my seemingly interminable ski away from them. The photo below shows the middle of the recall. The duo started on the other side of the trees, out of my sight. R is in front... he always starts a recall by cutting off K and bumping her so that he can claim the lead position. One training book says to reward *only* the dog who arrives first to encourage a speedy recall. Well, forget that notion - K runs her heart out to get to me so she gets fully rewarded!
Just in front of me, R hurdled a small berm of snow. He was fully airborne.
The shutter timing didn't catch K in full flight but she still looks gracefully fast.
After a short ski in very weird snow conditions, I went out for a relaxed bike ride. Yesterday's hammer-fest only managed to leave me exhausted and sore. So, today, I spun easily and watched the world around me.

As I passed a meadow, I spotted a coyote trio trotting purposefully atop the snow. As soon as I stopped, one of the coyotes climbed up a tiny rise and sat next to a bush. The other two kept moving from left to right across the photo.
The sentry didn't move but the other two approached a wire fence. Then, one coyote did exactly what my dogs love to do on the hard windpacked snow. He rolled on his back and wriggled ecstatically!
After the silly coyote regained his dignity, they ducked under the fence and kept moving. The sentinel still watched me. I decided that I better move along, before I fragmented the pack.

I kept heading west but noticed that stormy weather obscured my view of the ski slopes.
Sure enough, before I knew it, I was riding through a furious snow squall. I could barely see a thing because the snow somehow curled behind my glasses and hit my eyeballs when I rode fast. I had to keep reminding myself - "keep your eyes open"! It was terribly tempting to close them against the stinging snow.
I made it home in one piece, not even too cold. I'd enjoyed my time outdoors, feeling more peaceful than yesterday.

As I rode my bike today, a story from long ago kept looping through my brain, and I finally figured out why. In college, I played Division 1 lacrosse for a tyrant coach. During one game, we were ahead of the fourth ranked team in the country by a single goal with about ten minutes to go. I had a 'free position' directly in front of the goal with no one between me and the goalie. My coach screamed at me to 'keep possession' and 'run the clock'. In other words, don't shoot to score. I scanned the field and noticed that the goalie was no longer focused on me because she'd heard my coach's orders. So, I surprised everyone by shooting and scoring. It iced the game, which we won, on our way to a 'Elite Eight' berth in the NCAA tournament.

After that particular game, I was on the receiving end of a coach's tirade of epic proportions. I'd "disobeyed orders", she yelled loudly enough for everyone in New England to hear it. I tried to tell her that she hadn't been in my shoes so she couldn't see the situation from exactly my viewpoint. Moreover, I thought that if the coach had seen the goalie from my view, she would have made the same decision. It's an understatement to say that she wasn't convinced.

At the end of my ride, I realized why that particular story had looped endlessly through my head. Right now, I'm the only one on Earth who really knows how my spine feels so I'm the only one who can make a decision about to proceed. Just like in that lacrosse game, I'm the only one who can see things from my point of view. To be honest, I kind of wish that someone else could stand in my shoes and then tell me what to do. Maybe that coach could shout some instructions... I might even appreciate it now!