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Show Connecting with canyon creatures I am willing to wager I am not the only mountain resident still carrying around unmailed Christmas cards. It has been a hectic holiday season from which many of us are just recovering. Every year the pace quickens and I fall a little farther behind. So this weekend, while still trying to shake the aftereffects after-effects of holiday overload, I looked at my skis and a closet full of ski-related gear and decided to take a walk instead. Sometimes recreation just seems like more work. But nothing is easy in the winter. I still had to suit up in layer upon layer of wool, lace up a pair of clumsy boots and pack along a small arsenal of winter supplies. I also decided to take along a pair of binoculars. Birdwatching was to be my alibi for the afternoon. For a change of pace I chose a canyon I hadn't traveled in years, not since it was the focus of an intensive geophysical survey for natural gas. Up until then the ' canyon had been teeming with deer, elk, moose, eagles and an occasional bobcat. But after a summer of droning helicopters and surface blasting the wildlife had moved to a quieter neighborhood. So had I. "' Since then, though, the boom had gone out of the oil business and the canyon was beginning to return to its , od ways. was certain I would spot a fair amount of wildlife along , ; V the trail. But like a watched pot that refuses to boil, not a creature stirred. Hundreds of deer tracks crisscrossed the creek bed, the hillside was covered with telltale rabbit prints and I tripped n a deep moose imprint but the perpetrators were nowhere to be seen. Before long I gave up the search, put my binoculars back in the case and let my attention wander. I was lost in thought, moving automatically past nibbled thistles and over frozen streams, recharging my batteries and oblivious to the immediate surroundings. I was just getting around to making New Year's resolutions (albeit a week late) and reorganizing my life when a rustle in a nearby sage brush broke the spell. The rustle was definitely too big to have been made by my dog and it was getting to be a little too close for comfort. Suddenly a full-grown doe burst out of the bush. For a moment, too dazed to stop, we locked into a collision course. Then we both dug in our heels and jumped back. I froze. She stayed a moment longer to stare at the human who was afraid of a deer (wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?) and then trotted down the trail. I fumbled for the binoculars, felt shaken and a little silly and decided to take a better look around. This time I was rewarded with a bald eagle on a ridge top and four deer traveling single file down to the creek. But "that wily moose never did come out to say hi. |
