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Show :j:j(7; MaDMnmtanim r fco by Nan Chalat And the seasons go round and round Have you seen any rabbits this year? I haven't. In winters past I've dodged them on Brown's Pass and caught them in my headlights as they nibbled on our landlord's haystack. And I can remember one winter when they were so plentiful they boldly challenged our dogs to numerous romps through the sagebrush. But this winter they seem to be conspicuously absent. Perhaps it is just a low point on the seven-year rabbit cycle, a natural ebb in the greater flow of nature. I hope so. I miss that quivering nose, those oversized ears and dark alert eyes. Their tell-tale tracks, marked by familiar three-point landings, still criss-cross the snow-covered canyon trail, but the rabbits seem to be keeping a low profile this year. Other critters, however, have caught our attention. If it is not the year of the rabbit 1985 may end up being remembered as the year of the fox. Though not as plentiful as the jack rabbits were in their heyday, the foxes in the valley seem to be making an unusual number of public appearances. Their small, light prints across the snow could be mistaken for a cat's, but at least three times we've caught the culprits frozen in their paw prints at the end of the trail. The season has also been distinguished by a bounty of bald eagles perched along the riverbanks and soaring on thermals in the foothills. Their dark hulks are easy to recognize against the bare branches of the cottonwoods as the birds search the fields below for unsuspecting rodents. But I haven't seen as many of their golden counterparts. It may be a territorial dispute, shift in the balance of power, or it may be that my random sampling has missed some remote golden eagle canyon hangout. In March the Bald eagles will begin to follow the receding snowline northward and I will watch for pairs of goldens beginning their nesting rituals. In the meantime the balance has also tilted toward the small rodent population. The fields are filled with tiny zipper-like trails zigzagging and spinning around the fenceposts. Our dogs have taken note of this new' challenge and trot along with their noses glued to the snow. From time to time they dive into the snowbanks digging furiously but the critter is usually long gone. The abundance of mice and voles will no doubt be appreciated by the hawks who will begin hunting in earnest as soon as the snow melts. Perhaps the oversized mouse population will take the red-tail and harrier hawk's minds off this spring's batch of Easter bunnies and so the wheel of fortune will turn. Next winter the ranchers will again find rabbit pellets in their haybales and we will probably curse the lettuce thieves in our spring garden. But for now I'd be happy to see those fabled characters in our back yard. |