Disappearing snow

R exudes high amperage energy. Not satisfied with the small sticks that most dogs carry, he ambitiously dragged around a very long branch yesterday evening. As we explored the trails, he dragged it through deep boggy snow, over downed trees, and up steep hills. He banged it against the back of my knees. Then, after such devotion to the branch, he left it behind without a second thought.K acted like the mature older sister, investigating coyote tracks in the meadow, rather than playing with sticks.After our recent recall extravaganza, both dogs responded to "come" like frenzied locomotives threatening to run me over last evening. I find that practicing recalls is one of the most fun training games for both the canines and me. And, the good effect on the dogs' behavior is undeniable.

Snow still made the trails impassable for even a Fatback snow bike this morning so I rode on the dirt roads. No weirdos followed me - making it a mentally mellower ride than yesterday. I pushed the pace on some climbs, and it felt good to rev up the engine. I'm in that odd early-season condition where I'm not sure what aspect of my fitness is limiting me. This is a yearly phase so I'll just keep pedaling, sometimes testing the limits, and eventually I'll break through the unknown but clear-cut barrier.

Yesterday, I spotted my first tree swallow of the year during my mountain bike ride. In the past 24 hours, hordes have arrived to forage next to the meadows. They can survive at our elevation earlier in the spring than other swallow species because tree swallows can rely on vegetation for food when a cold snap or snow limits insect availability. Other swallow species eat only insects.These swallows flew as far as thousands of miles to get to this meadow. And, they may not be staying in this beautiful spot for the summer. This species breeds as far north as Alaska so our high elevation meadow may serve as only a rest stop for them.

As I rode, the summer thunder clouds built up, like they did yesterday. Below, I first passed by a view of a 14er (a peak over 14,000 ft) as the puffy cumulus clouds engulfed only its southern side.
Only 45 minutes later, the puffy clouds had multiplied to enshroud the entire mountain.
In the summer, my rides all too frequently become races against the thunder storms. The clouds are born on the Divide, grow taller and darker, and then start marching toward lower elevations. As I listen to the rumbling out of the west, I ride faster and faster. Today, I didn't race any storms because the summer 'monsoon' season of daily thunder storms definitely hasn't arrived yet.

As I rode along, I realized that I frequently gaze through conifer forests trying to sneak a peek at the snowy mountains. In the photo, a fairly dense stand of lodgepole pines, ponderosa pines, and douglas firs provides small gaps for views of slices of the Divide far off in the distance.
After arriving home, the dogs and I enjoyed 60 degree temperatures to sit on the deck in the few snow-free spots. Just 4 days ago, the deck had snow up to the top of the railings so it's astonishing that we're sitting on the deck today. Here's a photo from 4/19 with the deck table overturned so that the snow wouldn't break it and the railing barely visible above the snow.The dogs hogged the sunny spots on the deck, and K soaked up the warm sun. When I ran my hands through her fur, it glowed with warmth. She's a lucky dog!

Springtime craziness and a hummingbird!

The natural world has disregarded the fluke snowstorm and is marching inexorably toward the race of summer.

Yesterday evening, the younger pups and I skied our trails, enjoying the falling light and the abundant signs of spring. A finch who had visited our feeders earlier in the day serenaded us from the top of a pine tree. Visually, I was unable to distinguish whether he was a House Finch and a Cassin's Finch - but I recorded his song using my camera. Based on that, I have no doubt that he was a Cassin's Finch, our most common high elevation finch who we see only in spring and summer. Sorry about the fuzzy photo - the distance was too much for my pocket camera.I was feeling lousy during our ski, with a pounding headache from bad discs and bone spurs in my neck pressing on the nerves serving my head. To burn off the young dogs' seemingly endless tank of energy without moving too far or fast myself, I did a ton of recalls. Below, K gallops toward me through the rapidly melting snowpack.Sometimes, I'd put K and R into 'sit-stays' and ski far ahead before calling them. Other times, I'd let them wander ahead of me, getting engrossed in exploring, before recalling them.


The recall games are great training for when I need to dogs to sprint to me pronto. Just as importantly, recalls involve full speed sprinting through deep goopy snow - a muscle-burning and exhausting proposition for most beings, but perhaps not for these dogs with superhero athletic abilities.

This morning, springtime drew me out the door onto the roads pedaling my mountain bike. As I ate breakfast, a heart-piercingly cute Golden Mantled Ground Squirrel, who'd dug his way out of his hibernation den, summoned me outdoors.

Amazingly, warm 50 degree air engulfed me within a week after a blizzard. I rode along, and then the unmistakable spring sound that I'd been unconsciously listening for over the past weeks: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. I heard the rising pitch as a male broad-tailed hummingbird zoomed toward me and then the falling buzz as he zipped past me. I practically jumped up and down with exuberant joy, much to the amusement of the jeep-driver from the city who'd just stopped to ask me if I knew of any trails that were free of snow. Nope, I replied, no dirt trails but the hummingbirds are arriving!

I think that a person's excitement about spring is in proportion to the length and ferocity of their winter. Having just survived a furious snowstorm, the buzz of a hummingbird sounded like the sweetest music to me. When I imagine how far he's flown in the past months, it's an astounding athletic feat, especially for such a diminutive bird.

Shortly later, another long-distance migrant, a tree swallow, swooped over me next to a melting meadow. In fact, three others swooped with him, forming an intricate spring dance. Summertime columnus clouds hovered in the background. I haven't seen these thunder-storm clouds since last fall!Under the swallows, two butterflies fluttered, a Mourning Cloak and an unknown species, perhaps a type of Fritillary, that I managed to photograph from a distance.I noticed that, on a small willow next to the wet meadow, some catkins, but not all, had progressed from gray fuzzy cylinders to tiny flowery heads. A closer look showed the brilliant yellow of the flowering catkin.I was in the midst of this gorgeous spring ride when I began to notice that I'd seen the same pick-up truck at least twice and perhaps more than that. Then, he slowly passed me, staring as he went by, going down a dead-end road, and I optimistically hoped that he was simply driving home. But, as I chatted with our friendly FedEx driver, the ominous red pickup drove back up the road, pulled to the side of the road just before passing us, and watched us talk.

As I started to pedal again, the red pickup pulled back onto the road and along side me. Uh oh. I should've pointed him out to the FedEx driver. At least I knew that the FedEx guy had to pass me again after his delivery because it was a dead end road. The ominous pick-up driver stupidly asked, "What are you doing?". "Riding my bike", I said. Duh. His baffling reply, "Are you OK?". "Fine", I replied, wondering if I looked like I was unable to take another pedal stroke or appeared on the verge of collapse.

He then tried to convince me to accept a ride - with my bike in the back of his pick-up. I wondered exactly how naive he thought I was. I put my hand on my grizzly-bear sized pepper spray cannister, and said "no thanks, good-bye". Unsummoned, I'd mustered my trusty 'don't-mess-with-me' defiance. My husband tells me that I exude angry energy when I take this tone. It worked - the wacko drove off - but he worried me more than the lions and bears who I meet on trails. I can't wait to get back into the forest! Melt, snow, melt!

Life's ambiguities

An amazing about-face in our weather led to 60 degree temperatures yesterday. The sun baked the snow, leaving its surface cupped and its depths soupy like oatmeal. In the evening, the two younger pups and I played in the snow while S took a road walk.

The setting sun glowed on the textured snow surface as K porpoised purposefully as if she smelled a deer or elk.R still imitates K's behaviors and zoomed in the same direction. A recall brought the two of them porpoising toward me with K in the lead and R trailing. I trudged on my skis through the wet snow to a view of the setting sun over the mountains. The rough snow surface reflected the sunset with an other-worldly glow.It feels wrong to have only a pair, and not a trio, of dogs with me on my evening wanderings. I get a heavy, indescribably sick feeling in my gut, when I ponder the missing S. Although I optimistically believe that he'll likely join us soon again when snow conditions are better for his arthritis, a day will come when he won't. Life never seems long enough.

On a lighter note (literally), the rising sun gently wakes me earlier and earlier as its rays shine on our bed through our towering east-facing windows. This morning, I pedaled my mountain bike on the dirt roads again, as the trails are bogged down in deep soupy snow that's not passable with my Fatback snowbike. The deep blue sky behind snowy mountains awed me.
The wildlife has started venturing out on the snow, likely at night when it's firmer and easier for travel. This set caught my eye because of the gait, a non-direct-registering walk (i.e., the hind print overstepped the front print), the relatively long stride length for a walk, and the purposeful path taken by the animal.

In my observations in our forest, coyotes and bobcats always use direct-registering walking gaits in snow. That gait probably saves energy because only the front paw has to 'break trail' by packing down the snow and the back paw simply falls into its trough. Indeed, coyote observers say that when a group of coyotes move through deep snow, they move single-file and carefully step exactly in the tracks of the coyote in front of them, just like a group of cross-country skiers precisely follow in each other's tracks. The coyote's tracks can trick someone into thinking that only one coyote traveled the path. So, the lack of direct-registering front and hind paws suggests that the tracks that I saw today are not from a coyote, a group of coyotes, or a bobcat.

The track pattern made me think of the big cat tracks that I've seen this winter - but I couldn't see any paw details so that's a wild guess.













As I passed a meadow, the Wyoming Ground Squirrels peeked out of their snow-capped burrows again - having recently stirred from their six month hibernation. Indeed, four heads popped out of one hole in the snow, briefly making me wonder if I'd misidentified these rodents. I wasn't aware that any squirrel species lived communally. However, some reading has told me that Wyoming Ground Squirrels live in colonies in high elevation meadows. It's not clear how strong their social ties are but my observations of the last couple of days suggest that they like to hang out close together. The females go into estrus within 5 days of waking up from hibernation - and that fact may explain why these squirrels are venturing outside their burrows despite the risks of being exposed to predators on the snow.

Today, I was slow with my camera so I captured only two squirrels at one snowy burrow. At almost the same instant, a Red-Tailed Hawk swooped over the group and perched in a nearby small Ponderosa Pine tree. I think that the sharp contrast between the dark squirrels and the white snow has made this colony's territory a feasting spot for hawks and other raptors.













After this wildlife stop, I pedaled around most of the area's drying dirt roads. When my life feels out of kilter (and S's illness, among other things, has tilted my world), the single-mindedness of riding my bike helps me focus on soaking up each moment rather than projecting into the future. I love focusing all my energy on something as simple as riding fast up a hill. Pushing my physical limits is simple compared to real life. Of course, at times during my rides, I lose myself in the wandering paths of my mind - but the sheer physical challenge of riding soon pulls me back to the present. At other times, the snowy tapestry of our mountains is a magnet that keeps me living in the moment.I love the crisp lines between the snowy mountains and the deep blue sky. Sometimes I wish that life felt so clear-cut. At other times, I'm able to appreciate that the ambiguities of life are part of what makes it so precious and wild.

Signs of spring from under heavy snow

The blizzard blasted us with a half a winter's worth of snow in a couple of days. A few days ago, spring seemed to be bursting out but the storm tossed us backward in time to mid-winter. It snowed so hard that we could barely see when we took the dogs out on the forest trails. In the photo to the right, you can see the snowflakes streaking down in front of K.

We humans strapped 'funny boards' (a.k.a., "skis") to our boots and tramped down a path. Mature dogs (K and S) followed directly in our path - only rarely straying. Meanwhile, exuberant puppy-like R couldn't stop himself from using a combination of burrowing and porpoising to explore unpacked snow territory. I love his spirit.

The orthopedic surgeon who did R's elbow dysplasia surgery said that deep snow was a no-go for dogs with hindlimb surgery but many dogs with forelimb surgery have no trouble with it. Fortunately, R has had no discernible discomfort after his crazy cavorting in the snow. R had his surgery late last October. He's completely stopped all anti-inflammatory drugs but takes supplements suggested by the orthopedic surgeon - monthly Adequan (injectible glucosamine), daily oral glucosamine, and an unbelievable quantity of fish oil (20 human capsules per day). The studies show that the Adequan and fish oil are probably the most important supplements for keeping his elbow limber.At the start of this storm, I wrote that S's many sore joints seem better in the snow. Now I need to modify that statement. When walking in a foot or less of snow, S's joints are less painful than on hard ground. However, when the snow is bottomless, he's not happy with postholing and floundering, primarily because his hind end weakness limits him. We've decided to walk him on plowed surfaces until the snow compacts. I have to admit, however, that I hate the forlorn look in his eyes when he doesn't get to go skiing - even a frozen kong isn't an adequate substitute.

Wild animals seemed to hunker down during the storm, and we saw no tracks until the last day of the storm. Like us, the animals seemed to get antsy, wanting to escape their dens. Weasel tracks stormed through an area with many itty-bitty mouse tracks. At least one rabbit had bounded through the snow near our house - I thought that none had survived the winter but I was wrong! All of the animals that recently emerged from hibernation disappeared again (chipmunks, golden mantled ground squirrels) - back to bed, I think! For the duration of the storm, a Clark's Nutcracker stayed by our feeders. They usually live higher in the mountains but we were happy to help this guy through the storm.On the day after the snow stopped, I rode past a meadow where the Wyoming Ground Squirrels had ventured out of hibernation in the days before the storm. Two ground squirrels had dug upward through the heavy layer of at least 4' of snow and were scampering on the surface. With no food available, they looked a little lost. Then, I spotted a Red-tailed Hawk hovering over the meadow probably salivating over the easy pickings. My presence seemed to upset the natural behavior of everyone so I moved along.I wasn't surprised that the big animals didn't try to move around. Based on R's predicaments when he left our packed tracks, I imagine that a coyote, fox, bobcat, mountain lion, or deer might get stuck in a hole of powdery snow. Below, R has given up on a foray into bottomless loose snow. He's trying to turn around.Today, I found some elk trackways - they act like road cyclists in a paceline during huge snowstorms. They move singlefile, and I visualize that they take turns doing the work of trampling the path. Their tracks headed toward some extreme south-facing slopes that melt faster than anyplace else in the area. How do they know to go there? The sage older cow elk lead them. I'm told that if a whole generation of females is killed or doesn't learn from their elders where to lead the herd, some of the herd's wisdom about routes and foraging sites is lost. For example, a large scale logging operation can cut off an 'elk superhighway' or make a grazing area unusable. If the operation lasts long enough, the herd may never go back to their old routes and meadows because the young cow elk didn't learn about them. In the photo below, the herd split into a few single-file lines as they moved inexorably toward better grazing possibilities.Yesterday and today, I put my fenders on my mountain bike with studded tires and headed out for a slush and mudfest on the plowed dirt roads. Due to too little riding, my back was killing me so I decided to endure the mess. I had fun. I saw gorgeous views of the giant snowy mountains.Yesterday, the cloud front still sat on the Divide.Today, the clouds were starting to dissipate.As the snow has dropped off the trees, the aspens remain a reminder that spring will come - their large catkins survived the storm and delicate green leaves will unfurl in a month or so. It's very hard to visualize green trees right now.As the sun rose this morning, a new avian migrant appeared under our feeders - a Mourning Dove. They breed here and are omnipresent under our feeders for the summer. I imagine that this fellow felt disappointed by the wintery forest that he found here. I hope that our seeds helped his spirits!

The hummingbirds are next - my feeder is waiting patiently!

Digging out

Finally, power, water, phone, an internet connection - normalcy is returning.

Winter wonderland. The dogs loved it, porpoising through the deep snow and playing. That is, until K had a severe allergic reaction. Her face ballooned up into a lumpy misshappen caricature of her usual beautiful form. She started vomiting and looked very sick. Benedryl and the emergency clinic saved her. We found a tick on her during the episode and that's the likely culprit. Tell me, how does a dog get a tick in a huge blizzard? Thank goodness that my husband had worked fiendishly to keep our driveway open despite the snow and multiple trees falling across it.

Somewhere between 4-5 ft of snow fell, cascading out of the sky, landing on trees, and very sadly, snapping many pine trees in the forest near our house. No trees fell on our house or vehicles so that's good news.

We normally love storms like this but I've never seen so many snapped trees. More later - I hope that my friends in the area are digging out and are OK.

The view from our door shows the snow above the porch railings and a big climb to get out and feed the birds! And, snow transformed our agility course into a series of lumps on the landscape. In the photo, there's a teeter-totter, pause table (not discernible), a tire jump, several regular jumps, and weave poles with about 6" poking above the snow on the right in front of the pine trees.
It's melting so fast that we may be using the agility course next week - just kidding. But, spring temperatures have returned so let the mudfest begin!

Spring blizzard

Yesterday's build-up of the snowstorm, in terms of looming dark clouds and light snow, finally became a true storm last night. We took the three lab rascals for a hike in a thin layer of snow. In the evening, the local news was hyping the storm non-stop. As we watched the forecast, S wanted to go out but we asked him to wait until after the weather forecast. He pulled the trick that's topped his list of favorites for years - if the humans are staring at the TV, stand in front of it!This morning, we awakened to almost a foot of snow. My husband and the labrador trifecta beat me out the door but we met up for some skiing together. Doggy ecstacy dominated a ski tour of our trails. Snow makes our dogs crazy with goofy energy to bound and play. In the photo below, they jointly carry a stick while porpoising through the snow.For some inexplicable reason, S's joints bother him less in the snow than on dry ground. It's been true for the past couple of years - our vet just shakes her head with disbelief. S stayed in my husband's tracks - but spent an hour trotting behind us in a foot of snow.

So far, S's experiment with prednisone seems great. He's always drunk water obsessively so we haven't noticed the side effect of 'excessive drinking and urination'. We have noticed a bounce to his gait that we haven't seen for years. We can't tell if it's shrinking his tumor or lymph nodes, which is the goal, but the lack of bad side effects is promising.

After my husband and S headed home, the two younger labs and I explored some more trails. The heavy snow muffled all sound, and the wild animals were invisible - no tracks and no noises. I wondered if an animal was hiding high in a tree because of R's determination to investigate it. However, the heavy snow hanging from the pine boughs obscured my view of the branches.
















As we skied, snow fell hard and fast. In fact, it fell so fast that my ski tracks were filled in with new snow on the way home. The weather stations say that it's falling at up to 3" per hour. K and R actually look a little dubious of the conditions in the photo below.When we arrived home from our ski, the power was out, and stayed out for close to 8 hours. I predict that it won't be on for long - a tree just fell on the wires by the road near our house. But, I managed to dash off a post while the power was on (our internet connection requires power).

At this moment, much to my surprise, it seems that the TV stations under-predicted the storm. We have around 3' on the ground, and now, the forecasters say that we'll have at least 4' by the end of the storm tomorrow afternoon. Whew. Perhaps this blizzard will make up for the long winter drought. I have to admit that I'm a bit sad about what this heavy snow and then inevitable warm spring weather will do to trail conditions for mountain biking. But, for the moment, I'll just enjoy the snow.

Over the day, I took photos of our deck table to show the snow buildup. Unfortunately, we just tipped it sideways because of worries that it would break under the weight of the snow. The two photos were at 10:30 AM and 3:30 PM.













To my amazement, the news says that the cities like Boulder and Denver have almost no snow. They've been inundated with sleet and slush. It's a dramatic demonstration of the striking difference between our world in the mountains and the lower elevation cities.

This afternoon's ski will be challenging. New snow has erased my ski tracks from this morning. Breaking trail through 3' of snow will be hard work - so we may not cover much distance - but it'll be fun being on the trails in a white-out!