A Surprise!

Shyla and I started our day with a snowbike ride in our neck of the woods. She zoomed through green Kinnikinnick just after sunrise.

She is so fast and graceful that she astounds me. I can barely keep up with her sometimes but I adore watching her zip back and forth by my bike, covering at least three times the distance that I do.

We pedaled up to Hug Hill where wind fluttered past us. It was a gentle breeze compared some of our winter winds. I played with my "usual lens" and then a 100 mm macro lens that a generous person has loaned to me. The difference was incredible. The colors and detail stunned me with the loaned lens even though I didn't push it toward its "macro" limits even the slightest bit.

Shyla's ears flapped in the wind, making graceful shapes.

She seemed to enjoy sampling the scents on the wind coming off of the invisible Continental Divide.

After our ride, I headed out alone to check a trail camera that is posted in a new place for me. I've had a remarkable lack of success with my trail cameras for the past two winters so I decided that it was time to try some "long shot" locations. Last fall, I noticed lots of cat "scrapes" on a certain rocky slope, and I marked the spot with my GPS to post a trail camera there someday. Now, the scrapes are under the snow but many sets of old bobcat tracks pock the area.

As I'd expected, I captured a photo of one of our tenacious bobcats.

Then, I captured a photo of his quarry, who is still alive and well, as far as I know.

As I checked the trail camera, I stood at the site, scrolling through the photos in chronological order. Right after the rabbit photo, this huge guy appeared hulking in the view finder. I literally jumped.

He was very curious about the camera which emits a soft red glow (an infrared "flash") at night.

He sniffed the area below the camera, where I kneel when I check it, giving the camera a great view of the furrow in the middle of his forehead.

After that, all his body parts including his long tail passed very close to the camera, as he tracked the movements that I'd made when I set up the camera. I could see his tracks today, following mine in the snow.

When he'd finished checking out my scent, he reappeared in front of the camera. He's a bulky and strong mountain lion. You can also see that he recently ate a big meal. His tummy is bulging.

He then examined the area where I know that there are lots of cat scrapes under the snow from my reconnaisance last fall.

He rolled around in the snow a bit, like a lion whom we followed last fall, making me wonder if it's the same one. I'd never seen this behavior until last fall.

Then, he prepared to leave, pausing stock still for a moment.

Then, just like that, he vanished like a ghost - a giant predator who lives all around us but somehow remains invisible to people almost all the time. 

That series of photos was a wonderful Friday surprise!

Mountain madness

Our evening hikes have been underneath ominous clouds recently. Unfortunately, those clouds have been obscuring the almost full moon. However, you can see the moon in the photo below, just rising above the rocky peaks near the left of the photo.

 Last evening, as the sun set, the eastern sky became bluer and the clouds became gold.

K stood in silhouette against the clouds, looking over the meadow.

Last night, my driveway wildlife camera saw action for the first time in a little while. A rotund (or pregnant?) bobcat sauntered down the cleared path.

Shortly later, a rabbit gallivanted by the same spot at high speed.

I think that cleared human routes are important to the wildlife after snowstorms. However, as soon as more hidden paths open up, the animals seem to abandon routes like our driveway and use trails instead.

This morning, K and I headed out into a slushy and muddy world. The wind still rushed off the mountains in intense gusts followed by eerie calm interludes. The wind really scared K. So, I played some training games with her to distract her from her fear. It worked!

K's fears are strongly correlated with her thyroid function. She's had a recent resurgence in fearfulness, acting intensely afraid of noises, sudden movements by us, and walking down a small set of steps. It may be time for a blood test to see if she needs to take more oral thyroid hormone.

After I rode with K today, I headed out to ride my mountain bike on some trails that had melted out. A tiny wildlflower (Noccaea Montana, Wild Candytuft) that I've been watching for had bloomed all over the south-facing hillsides. The white flowers are tiny, about a half inch across, and grow in clusters. I think that they were waiting for a long drink of water before blooming.

After noticing these tiny treasures, I took lots of photos and relaxed in the sunshine near them. Consequently, it was very hard to believe how fast the weather turned on me. I rode up onto a ridge, and the wind refound its strength, gusting so hard that I couldn't pedal forward during the biggest gusts. Then, the rain started, driven by the wild wind. Fortunately, I know that weather in our mountains can be crazy at this time of year, and I had extra layers in my backpack that kept me warm.

But, I had a brief moment of wondering "What the heck am I doing out here on this ridge?". I snapped a photo at that moment. It's amazing how benign the scene looks by comparison to the power of nature that was knocking me around at that moment. The photo didn't depict the freezing driving rain or the gale force winds.

I tried to hurry home but, believe it or not, some trails were still choked with a foot of heavy snow. I slogged along at a snail's pace even though I was working as hard as I possibly could. As I fruitlessly pedaled, I kept reminding myself that I *do* love mountain biking. By the time I finally caught sight of my house, the storm had abated and the sun was peeking through the clouds.

Yes, I do love mountain biking, and I love the wildness of the mountains. It's just easy to forget when I feel like a piece of driftwood caught in the maelstrom of mountain madness.

The animal planet

Yesterday morning, I rode my bike past the elk herd. It was about 30 degrees and overcast, yet the herd chose to lie on the snow under the shade of the trees. At this time of year, they start hiding from the sun's warmth and bathing in the snow regularly. It seems that they love cold weather and not these "warm" spring days.

Nearby, I spotted the mountains over a boulder outcropping. Notice that the elk were not hiding from an intense sun!

By late afternoon, they'd come out of hiding to graze. In the photo below, they grazed near a ranching corrale.

Some of the herd oozed over toward a frozen pond.

Overnight, the wildlife proved that they truly own this neck of the woods. A coyote trotted up our driveway in the evening.

Then, a bobcat arrived on the scene in the wee hours of the morning.

He headed toward a stump that I've seen him mark in the past.

He sniffed it.

Then, notice the tail up in the air and the stream of liquid cascading down the stump. Yup, we caught him in the act!

Shortly later, he marched up our driveway, heading to his next appointment.

Finally, the courageous rabbit mugged for the camera shortly before daybreak. With the parade of carnivores in our clearing, I'm amazed that this cute little guy has survived for so long!

Without my wildlife cameras, I wouldn't have had any idea that our clearing had so much animal activity under the cloak of darkness last night. The motion-activated cameras give me a glimpse of the nocturnal world.

K and R informed me that I wasn't allowed to post without including photos of them. K made a funny face, just for you!

R galloped like the wind through a stand of towering Ponderosa Pine trees on a plateau overlooking the elk herd that I was busy photographing.

Enjoy the remainder of your weekend!

Life is good

Can you imagine how scary it is to be a rabbit living in the forest? As a rabbit, you'd be a prized meal for almost every carnivore in the area. In our forest, your enemies would include weasels, pine martens, bobcats, mountain lions, foxes, and coyotes. That's not even including the aerial assaults by hawks, eagles, and owls.

One of my wildlife cameras keeps getting photos of this little rabbit, with a notch in his ear. I visualize that one of those predators almost captured this little guy. I'm rooting for him. He gets my medal of courage for today.

At a nearby camera, I frequently get coyote photos. It's a deadly game of canine and rabbit.

Every day, I try to spend some time exploring our forests, off-trail, searching for signs of animals. Two days ago, the Duo and I found undeniable signs that a mountain lion had visited a discrete overlook above where K and I watch the sun peek over the horizon at dawn. The lion had left behind a scrape in the snow and dirt, created with his gargantuan hind paws. For good measure, he'd also left some scat. I'm contemplating whether I should put a wildlife camera in that spot, for I know that lions have visited it regularly (but that can mean twice a year or twice a month, depending on the incomprehensible minds of the lions). While I investigated the scrape that the lion had made, K propped herself on a boulder, gazing down at our sunrise lookout spot.

It gave me the chills to see K adopt that classic predator pose because I visualized that a lion would do exactly the same thing. He'd be invisible from below but would have a view over a large plateau that deer and elk love to visit.

In the meantime, K and I are slightly more "on our toes" as we watch the sun rise. Today, the wind was blowing off the Divide, and K's ears flapped in the gusts.

Because K doesn't like the wind, I shepherded her to more protected spot.

I asked her to do a trick that she learned as a puppy. But, like many tricks, she had the misconception that she needed to stand at my feet to do it. So, for the fun of it, I've recently taught her to "take a bow" without scooting to my feet first.

K is a poster dog for positive training methods. Given her delicate disposition, she'd wilt under the pressure of "corrections" or me looming over her as the all-powerful alpha. Instead, we've developed a partnership, based on gentle teaching, that works for both of us. It's worked so well that I use it with R also, even though his disposition might be able to tolerate tougher training methods. I prefer the partnership and positive approach. It's much more fun than the alternative!

Today, after K and I took a snowbike ride together, I pedaled by myself to visit another trail network. Along the way, I saw a splinter faction of the elk herd. When the whole herd is together, they number well over a hundred. This year, I have the impression that they are under increased lion predatory pressure, based on lion tracks that I've seen near the elk. Perhaps that's why so many smaller groups of elk are wandering our forests and meadows.

As the sun emerged from behind some clouds, I passed a meadow dotted with aspen trees.

I rode through pine forests, catching glimpses of snowy mountains through the gaps.

And, finally, I emerged from the dense forests and saw glorious snow, aspen trees, and the deepest blue sky that I could imagine at an elevation of almost 10,000'.

That was my turnaround point. I rode home with the wind at my back and a nearly constant slight downhill pulling me toward home. I love snowbiking!

As always, the Duo and I headed out for a short sunset hike later in the day. R did a trademark enthusiastic recall, kicking up snow crystals behind him.

K let us know that she was not impressed.

Then, the sun fell low in the sky, lighting up the clouds in brilliant orange.

I captured the Duo in that sunset light.

Life is good.

The Incident

Over the past week, I've been on the lookout for bobcat tracks. I haven't seen track nor photo of him in quite a while. I'm a tiny bit worried about how he survived our -30°F temperatures followed by snow storms. I hope that he leaves us a sign of his survival soon.

Although I didn't see bobcat tracks, I did see these tracks.

Yes, it was K's signature walking track. Her three-toed left front paw made the lower track. Then, she was walking so fast that her four-toed hind paw overstepped the front paw's track. Since her surgery, she cannot travel incognito!

Overnight, although the bobcat was still hiding out in an undisclosed location, a coyote visited, showing his face to the camera.

Then, very early this morning, one of the bobcat's favorite inhabitants of our clearing passed the same camera.

Yesterday afternoon, the Duo and I went for a snowshoe hike at sunset. Although we generally enjoyed it, K wanted me to show you a horrifying incident from the hike. It started when she wriggled on her back in a most dignified way.

Then, the R missile pounced, jolting her out of her reverie.

She stumbled to her paws, wondering, "Where am I and what happened?".

So, at her request, K had solo time with me this morning, with no missiles interrupting her wriggling time. She basked in the light of the rising sun.

She sprinted with no one jostling her out of the way.

And, she leaped without being outdone by any other, unnamed, dog.

Then, she prepared for a wriggle, pointing her shoulder toward the sweet comfortable snow.

 Ah, the joy of rolling in freezing, wind-packed snow at sunrise.

She could do it for hours without an unnamed dog interrupting.

Alas, when we reached the meadow, I could tell that she did miss her brother just a tiny bit. If he'd been with us, they'd have been playing chase through the meadow grass. Instead, she stood like a statue, doubtless smelling the coyotes who love the meadow.

Don't worry - R was out with the Runner this morning for a long adventure in the snow. We wouldn't ever leave him home if he didn't have an alternative plan for fun on his schedule.