The Trials of Deep May Snow for Us and the Wildlife

Our snow barely melted today, and it became even closer to concrete in consistency. It took a Herculean effort to snowshoe through it or to gallop, as you can see from Shyla's look early in our hike this morning.

Her energy was lagging quite early in the hike. I'm not surprised - it was so hard to move through this snow. Early in our hike, her technique was to rise up above the snow like in the photo below.

Then, she'd launch herself forward, trying to stay above the snow.

And that was just one stride. She had to do it again and again, and she began to look less enthusiastic.

The launching was the hard part.

After seeing how very hard she was working, I suggested that she try walking behind me. She could go at my snail's pace for short periods and then she'd launch herself into the snow again. She amazes me!

As I watched her and felt how hard it was for me to walk even in snowshoes, I thought about the wild animals. I remembered our 7 foot blizzard more than a decade ago, and the way I'd seen single file elk tracks through the meadows after that storm. I imagined a rotating echelon of elk, like a group of bike racers.

After I hiked with Shyla, I found some dirt roads in decent shape for some outdoor biking. I felt lucky to get to see elk moving through the concrete snow - single file, as I had guessed.

The smaller ones were having substantially more trouble. They were probably the calves born last summer. You can see the two calves in the very back of this foursome.

This was my favorite of the photos because it shows how hard the elk were working to move through the snow. 

I feel for the animals who have already given birth to their young. One example is black bears. At this time last year, the sow and cubs in the den where I had trail cameras were in their last days at their den. Look how tiny the cubs still were!

Here was Mom (from the same camera), for size comparison. Her face is scarred by mange, a common occurrence during the winter for bears.

With how small the cubs were, they would have had a horrific time trying to move around in this snow. I suspect that, this year, mother bears are either still in their dens or have holed up under a pine tree keeping their cubs snuggled against their chests nursing.

Life in the mountains isn't easy but somehow our wildlife flourish despite the hardships.

From Flowers to a Blizzard

Yesterday, I was reveling in the flowers that had begun to bloom. Some yellows were showing up in our meadows.

A small patch of Irises stood out bright and tall in a south-facing meadow.

A very old apple tree was covered in zillions of blossoms yesterday. It has never had more than a couple of blossoms in the many years that I've observed it.

And, to my utter surprise, my favorite orchids had burst into bloom weeks ahead of time. I didn't even have my favorite camera for photographing them with me. And, alas, I fear that these orchids and the other blossoms were killed overnight.

We awakened to this view out our bedroom window this morning. We have had more that three feet of snow so far and more is falling. On the left, our "La Fuma" deck chair looks like a sculpture. I wrote yesterday's blog post while sitting in it on the deck. On the right, our patio table has snow up to the bottom of its surface and then several feet of snow on top of it.

Shyla and I went out for a very short and slow slog through the cement-like snow. She was immediately in over her head but leaped up and out, starting her porpoising gait that she saves for snow that is deeper than she is tall.

She was fantastically happy the entire time, which makes me smile no matter what! Absolutely nobody else had tried to go in the forest besides us. I wonder if her carefree joy was possible because she felt so safe from other people.

It seems odd to see green aspen leaves in the midst of the snow. That's a big problem with this storm. Our aspens were tricked into leafing out early by warm weather, and now they're weighed down by very dense snow. I hope that we don't lose too many.

Look at the insane happiness in Shyla's eyes!

Even during our short hike, it seemed like the snow got even deeper as it fell incredibly heavily. This photo is from the very end of our hike.

Yes, this all happened in late May. I did get out on my fat bike for a short tour of our roads. Even our "main" dirt road wasn't really plowed. But our driveway was in fine shape thanks to help from one of our wonderful neighbors!

Happy Snowy May! Our world desperately needed this snow so it's a gift, even if it's not my idea of idyllic May weather!

Thankful for Shyla's Progress but still Hoping for More

Today is Thankful Thursday. I have mixed up feelings about the epilepsy journey that we've been on. On the one hand, I am incredibly grateful that Shyla's seizures are under control.

We are expecting 2-3 FEET of snow over the next couple of days

She can live almost her normal life, and we know how lucky we are that she's able to do that. We know how much more dire things could be. We are filled with gratitude that life is almost normal.

Most of the reason why her seizures are under control is that she's been taking phenobarbital for a couple of months. She hasn't had a seizure since she started it but she had a very hard time adapting to it. First, she was uncoordinated and almost drunken. Then, her enthusiasm for activity went into free fall. She was gradually returning toward normal in the weeks before our trip to the Utah desert.

While we were in the desert, I thought that Shyla was completely better. She seemed more energetic, happy, and carefree. She even learned to run happily in her boots!

However, since we've returned home, I've felt as as if a small bit of her has gone missing again. It's mostly during our morning mountain bike rides that I notice it. It's a loss of enthusiasm. Usually, she starts out very happy but then becomes subdued. I had been attributing it to phenobarbital.

Then, my good friend suggested that it might actually be fall-out from the evil woman who hit Shyla during a mountain bike ride. For those of you who missed that story, a woman hit Shyla across the face with no provocation. I'd just given Shyla permission to "go say hi", because I mistakenly thought that the woman was one of our kind neighbors.

That incident hurt both of us very badly. Fortunately, Shyla seemed to be okay physically. However, the emotional toll has been bigger. She's more tentative in the forest, not romping exuberantly like she used to to do. Just recently, she has finally started approaching people again. Because 99.9% of my neighbors are wonderful people, they've been helping Shyla recover by being so kind to her when they see her on the trails.  She's now approached three women since the evil woman hit her.

I'd be lying if I said that the event didn't take a toll on me too. A bit of history will help explain why it upset me so much. Many years ago, we had our first pair of Labs, Rover and Astro. To make a long story short, Rover was shot to death while we were hiking. The shooter was convicted of several charges, including a felony, but that didn't help heal me at all. It took me a long time and counseling to get past my inability to trust strangers and my fear of someone hurting another one of our dogs.

This recent event has shown me that the scar from that murder was not completely healed. Since the woman unexpectedly belted Shyla, I've been hypervigilant in the forest, always scanning for danger in the form of people who might hurt Shyla. I'm sure that she picks up on my anxiety, which is not helpful to her.

So, the question that I keep asking myself if whether that last piece that seems to be missing from Shyla, the exuberance factor, was stolen by the phenobarbital or by the woman who hit her. I'm starting to leaning toward the latter.

In any case, I am so thankful that Shyla's seizures are under control and that our sweet girl is generally okay. She's been through a lot in the past months, and I'm still hopeful that her full exuberance for life will return soon.

Wordless Wednesday - In the Desert

The Labraduo raced on Shyla's Mesa. On your mark, get set...

... GO!

When I stopped photographing the Labraduo, I actually took some landscape photos, trying to capture the beauty of the desert.

Looking down a canyon

The instant that the sun dipped below the horizon

Glorious sunset sky

Almost the whole Milky Way over K's Rock

Post-Migraine: A rejuvenating post from our desert days

I am finally emerging from my worst migraine and GI event in about a year. I got too confident in my body, and I pushed the limit on what I can eat. I learned my lesson the hard way.

I've spent far too long lying in bed with the covers over my head. Although I don't write about it too much, my spine is still a big issue. I have a 3 level surgical fusion in my lower back and a 4 level surgical fusion in my neck. Lying still for a long time leaves me in agony, with every back muscle in spasm plus pain radiating down my legs. So, now that I can eat and look at my computer again, my spine feels horrendous. I can't even stand up straight.

To get out of the "woe is me" mode, I thought that I remember a typical day from our idyllic time in the desert. Most mornings, there'd be a breeze and I loved capturing Shyla's "Flying Nun" look at the start of our ride together.

She'd get much happier as soon as we started running!

It was warm but not hot - perfect for playing!

After Shyla's run, I'd head out for a spin on my own through some pretty rugged terrain. I had tons of fun this year, riding my Specialized fattie, which is a bike with a very soft suspension (good for my spine) and 3" wide tires (great for traction). I love this bike!

Then, after a good ride, I'd head back to camp. You can see the LabMobile down in the basin.

After some relaxation and maybe a bike ride by the Runner (while I puppy-sat), we'd go for a sunset hike. We loved walking in the labyrinth of washes below the basin where our LabMobile sat. "Washes" are essentially dry and sandy river beds. When a big rain storm comes through, they can rapidly become deep rivers with fast moving water.

Then, we'd climb up to what we've dubbed "Shyla's Mesa" to watch the sunset and let the dogs run.

This year, unlike previous ones, R absolutely refused to be left out of the sunset photo shoots. If I didn't include him, he made his opinion known so loudly that it would echo off the cliff walls on either side of us!

I do have to admit that sunset light is best for chocolate fur (don't tell R!). I love how it glows!

After the sun was lower in the sky, I'd watch it turn the cliffs red.

And the labyrinth of small mesas and washes looked magical under the flowing clouds.

Finally, dusk would fall as we had dinner. Do you see the tiny moon in the top of the photo? That's the "Bear Moon", named in memory of a very special dog for whom I took this photo.

That was a rejuvenating post for me to write. It reminded me that I will feel strong again soon, and we have many more adventures planned for the coming months. I can't wait!

A Day of Rest

I'm suffering from a migraine so I can't write much or even bear to look at my screen for long.I'm cuddling up with the Labraduo.

I can't get out to see the sunset or sunrise so here's a beautiful recent sunset.

I'm hoping that the world brightens for me tomorrow.

No Place Like Home

On one of the first evenings that we were home from the desert, we got a double treat. We saw the elk herd near our house during the "golden" hour before sunset when their fur glowed gorgeously!

This young bull watched us for a while as he chewed and walked at the same time.

I loved his final very curious look at us.

More of the herd was nearby but they were spread out too much to give you a view of them all.

I had the feeling that they were breathing a sigh of relief to finally have green grass and warm sunshine.

After that, we hiked up to watch the sunset over the mountains with the Labraduo. It was glorious!

After a little while, the orange morphed to a deep pink.

And then the pink directly over the mountains got even brighter!

As we walked away, the pink was becoming crimson, as dusk moved into the forest.

That evening reminded me of how much I love living here in the mountains even if it sometimes snows in May!