Magical sunrise

From the first moment that K and I set foot out the door this morning, the woods felt magical. The snow glowed pink from the blossoming sunrise behind us. I pedaled hard to reach a look out point before the sun peeked over the eastern ridge. I made it!

I couldn't decide whether looking east toward the sunrise or west toward the alpenglow was better.

The alpenglow drew me like a magnet. K and I headed to our western-most promontory to gaze at the mountains.

I sat on a log, with K by my side, and felt the world wake up around us. The light morphed so rapidly that each instant felt unique. The birds started to sing their spring songs and the woodpeckers commenced drumming. I knew how lucky K and I were to be soaking up the dawning of a new day.

Soon after sunrise, the sky turned cerulean blue.

The snowy mountains glowed in the distance.

We had a peaceful ride, with no scary encounters or shadows lurking in the forest. I simply rode and K ran, enjoying the day.

Later, the Duo and I headed out for an evening hike. R found a deep patch of spring snow and wriggled with abandon. R's spirit inspires me.

We wandered the woods, with no particular goal, until sunset. I felt carefree and relaxed, without a clock ticking loudly toward early darkness.

I can feel the season changing, even though I know that we usually get a total of about 5' of wet and heavy spring snow in April and May.

Wild canine encounter

This morning, the coyotes were on the prowl again. This camera caught one individual but another camera caught a terrible photo of a pack on its periphery.

K and I rolled out early, before the coyote shown above passed the camera, into a couple of inches of fresh snow. We saw the sunrise but the world didn't brighten much until the sun arced high into the cloud bank to our east.

K's fur glowed in the sunrise, a sight that is getting rarer as sunrise races earlier.

We started rolling along a forested trail, not a route that our coyotes commonly travel. They tend to like the meadows rather than the deep forest. Nonetheless, a few coyotes appeared like tawny ghosts in front of us on the trail. K followed her instinct and bounded after them as they fled.

I screamed for K to come but lost sight of her almost immediately. I kept yelling as loudly as I could but my voice rapidly gave out on me. When K didn't reappear, I escalated to a full-blown panic. I left my bike on the trail and started running, following the canine tracks. I already had the worst possible visions in my head. Then, the coyote pack started yipping and howling from fairly nearby. My anxiety level rose with each yip.

Within about 20 yards of following tracks and continuing to try to yell with a nonexistent voice, I saw the coyote tracks go one way and K's tracks make a U-turn back toward where she'd started. I turned around, and she emerged from behind a bushy pine tree.

The tracks told the story. K hadn't followed the coyotes for more than a few yards and had immediately heeded my call. But, probably because I sounded so completely freaked out, she didn't come to me. Instead, she stood still, silently watching me, hidden behind a tree.

When I saw her, I first felt a veritable tidal wave of relief. Soon, however, I felt another surge of adrenaline as I looked at this dog who I love with all my heart. The adrenaline brought anger with it - anger at the coyotes and anger at K for hiding from me. I managed to suppress it... and just be grateful that my girl had actually obeyed me and hadn't chased the coyote pack.

I was shaking so hard that I sat in the snow with K for a rest before we proceeded. She seemed unsure about me... because I'd been screaming like a lunatic just a few minutes earlier and she's an easily scared dog. Her fearfulness has improved so much that I don't mention it often here - but her hiding act today reminded me of how sensitive she is.

It's risky out there in the woods, but even as we sat quietly in the aftermath, I was grateful to be sitting in the freezing cold snow next to my chocolate sweetie in the wilderness. I simply love being in the woods with my dog.

Soon, we were on our way again, with K in a tight heel next to my bike. As we restarted, K expressed an interest in the coyote tracks left behind by the encounter, causing me to start to become apoplectic again. I tried to keep the fear and tension out of my voice as I reminded her to heel.

Soon, we'd looped out of the forest and I pedaled toward the meadows, where I always obsessively scan for coyotes. We stopped at an overlook to survey the meadows below us.

In the meadows, we didn't see any wild canines but we saw tracks.

The rest of our ride passed peacefully despite a maze of coyote tracks telling a story of a pack working hard to hunt rodents.

As I look back on the coyote encounter, I think that it was an accidental crossing of paths. K and I were silent so the coyotes didn't know that we stood in their path. The entire pack approached us as if they were on a beeline to their next destination. As soon as the coyotes spotted us, they fled, with no luring behavior or other shenanigans. So, as I mull it over, I don't blame anyone, except maybe myself, for freaking out so much that K was afraid to come to me. But, no harm came from that mistake aside from a couple of minutes of intense fear, and I learned my lesson. I need to sound more composed in emergencies, for K's sake.

For probably the first time ever, I felt relieved to lock K into the safety of our house and head out solo on my bike. It wasn't great riding due to the sloppy layer of spring snow that the sun was rapidly transforming to slush.

But, the sky was gloriously blue, and more signs of spring caught my eye. The buds on willows lining a stream had burst into furry catkins since I passed them yesterday.

I was so delighted that I gazed at the catkins for a long time.

An adjacent willow had also burst to life.

High in the mountains, we have to "make do" with these small signs of spring for months while many of you have flowering plants and leaves on your trees. Indeed, we often get multiple feet of snow between now and the end of May so more winter is in store for us!

Most of all, I am thankful that my K is safe and sound, ready to enjoy spring with me.

Driveway parade and spring is coming!

Last night, we had a parade on our driveway. It started with a loose dog galloping down the driveway. That's a sight that I hate to see. I think that this dog belongs to the people that I had a very funny shouted discussion with last summer. I saw a bear outside their tall wooden fence. I yelled to them that there was a bear on the other side of their fence. They replied, "Do we have bears around here?". I said, "Yes, about 20 feet away from you, on the other side of the fence". You should have seen the utterly surprised look on the woman's face! Of course, as always, the bear fled, and I don't think that they saw him.

Next, the bobcat sauntered down the driveway, about a half hour after the dog.

The cute cat with a luxurious coat had very muddy paws.

Then, a coyote trotted fast down the driveway much later.

I never cease to be amazed by what's going on out in the dark... it seems quiet from inside but it's not!

This morning, K and I mountain biked, on a true mountain bike rather than on a snow bike. The trails are so icy in some sections that I needed a bike with serious studded tires. My blue bike fit the bill.

Some of the trails looked like this, which is why the studded tires were needed.

We saw a scary sight early in the ride. Our first large wildfire of the year is burning to the north of us. It's unbelievable that the forests are burning in March, setting the tone for what will be a terrifying fire season if we don't get some huge spring snow storms. Today, smoke wafted among the hills to the east of us.

But, to the west, the mountains still shined, snowy as ever.

The meadows are still brown and won't start sprouting green for a couple of months. The blue sky beamed down on the golden hills as K led the way.

All too soon, it was time to drop K off at home. I headed out solo seeking some icy and dirt trails but no serious snow, since my serious snow bike was sitting in my basement.

As I rode next to the expansive meadow shown above, I spotted my first Mountain Bluebird of the year! They seem to come up on warm days in March, and retreat to the plains for the nights and bad weather. You can't see him well in this photo taken with my little point-and-shoot but, oh, what a wonderful harbinger of spring!

I rode onward, hitting some 4wd roads that I never bike during the summer because they're open to motorized vehicles then. But, now, they're deserted, and I had a blast pedaling along them, albeit in a tired way. I caught glimpses of our mountains.

When I was almost home, I came upon the elk herd, close to the road. They'd gotten themselves inside a newly fenced corral. The tradition around here tends to be that people prop open their gates for the elk during the winter. Despite the fact that this ranch is presently unoccupied, the gates were closed, and the elk mewed in consternation. Although you can't see it in my photo, they had fences on all sides of them.

I hated seeing them milling around, not wanting to leap the high fence. They shouldn't have to... it wastes energy and could lead to an injury. I seemed to be adding to their stress so I departed before they resolved the dilemma.

Our day ended with fun in the sunset.

Do you think that this photo of R might be good enough for Anna's tongue photo contest? It looks like his tongue is being whipped back by the wind because he's running so fast!

A day in photos

Long legged canine visitor while we slept.

Morning snowbike ride shortly after sunrise.

Chinook wind almost blowing K off her boulder.

Flat tire with a canine guard while I fixed it.

Sunset hike, showing independent R and focused K.

Woo, what a scent.

Crazy ear galloping.

Dignified K.

K takes a bow on a boulder.

K gazes over the magical kingdom at sunset.

Singing with joy and coyote musings

R has learned about the good life. While his humans are up before the light, having breakfast and preparing for the day, R snoozes. Occasionally, he'll notice that "romping time" might be approaching, and, while lying in bed, he sings with joy. It's the R "happy song" - his joy and anticipation of a new day bursts out in high pitched notes. Then, he goes back to sleep until exactly the best moment to prompt the Runner to hurry out the door.

K stays in bed too but without the singing. Her golden eyes follow me closely, awaiting the moment when I invite her to come on a bike ride.

This morning, near the start of our snowbike ride, K played on the rocks, showing off for the camera. Who says that dogs don't smile?

Today, it felt like spring had dawned overnight. After freezing and windy weather yesterday, we soaked up the sun, smiled as chickadees sang their spring songs, stopped to spot the drumming woodpeckers, and grinned widely upon noticing aspen buds seemed to have swelled up overnight. The leaves won't unfold until until late May but I enjoy the buds for months!

My back is aching badly so riding the trails wasn't as joyful as usual. I had "dry needle trigger point injections" yesterday to try to break up my back muscle spasms. Alas, this time, the procedure rendered my back muscles as angry as a distressed swarm of bees. Hopefully, it will pass soon.

I hope that tonight's sunset is as gorgeous as last night's. After my procedure, our foursome took a sunset hike. The sun's rays had already fled the meadow at the start of the hike.

The frigid whipping wind seemed at odds with the fiery sunset.

The wind was blowing atop the Divide, launching billows of snow into the air.

After the sun dipped below the horizon, the cloud bank hovering over our heads caught on fire.

And, gradually, the lights went out on another day.

When my spine hurts so much, I am even more grateful for my wondrous surroundings and my pack.

I've read the comments about coyotes after my posts earlier this week highlighting wildlife camera photos of them. I understand the view that it's scary to have these predators among us. I worry incessantly about my dogs (that's why I train them obsessively). However, my viewpoint is that we humans are inexorably expanding our footprint in the natural world. If we don't take steps to accommodate carnivores like coyotes, wolves, bears, bobcats, and mountain lions in our world, they'll have no place to live. The Earth would be a darker place without them, and the environment would become even more out of balance, with prey animals like rats, mice, and deer multiplying unchecked.

At the same time, I feel deep sadness that pets have been lost to the predators that live among us. In some cases, these heartbreaking losses have occurred despite responsible owners taking measures to try to protect their pets. In our case, despite having coyotes next to our house almost every night for more than a decade, we've avoided that kind of tragedy. We don't have any magic solution, just extreme vigilance and probably a bit of luck (although we try not to rely on luck).

I'd like to answer a couple of questions that were asked about my coyote posts. First, I don't let the dogs mark scent posts that my wildlife cameras are monitoring because I'm hoping to capture natural behavior uninfluenced by my dogs. However, I've observed that my dogs mark over top of coyote, fox, bobcat, and mountain lion scat and scrapes on our hikes, particularly when those scent posts are on well-traveled trails. In fact, I tend to observe closely where the dogs mark and check to see which animal's message provoked them to reply. Some of the scent posts that I've monitored with my wildlife cameras were initially pointed out to me by my dogs.

I was also asked if our coyotes have become more brazen over time. I have not noticed any trend in their behavior in more than a decade of observing them. I have read, however, that coyotes are expanding their territories into more developed areas where people don't expect to be living with wild predators like coyotes. In our case, we knew that the wild animals "came with the territory" so we were never surprised by the presence of coyotes, bobcats, bears, and mountain lions around our house. It's become apparent to us that those animals view this land as their territory and view us as the interlopers who planted a house in the middle of their land. I understand the animals' point of view and try to be a good neighbor while still protecting my dogs and myself.