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I have to start bringing my old crappy camera with me on my trekking around the eastern Boulder pastures. In late March the Colorado spring was well on its way and we had several days that were pretty summery even, and every time this happens some people strip down to shorts and sandals, and then the next day when the poor sods haven't followed the weather reports (which really is a necessity over here, with all the weather fronts rolling over the mountains), you can see all these optimists standing shaking by the bus stop, cultivating their arthritis and pneumonia.
This last week winter has returned to this part of Colorado, first with rain and today with scarce snow. It's been an odd couple of days, with a kind of magical gloom in which every blossom, flower and bright green leaf is incapsuled in ice. In the very still snow-flaked air I could observe pink, yellow and white blossoms perfectly preserved in huge clusters of ice, it was like someone had taken every tree and bush and put it suddenly in a gigantic freezer. The daffodils were sagging from the weight of frozen rags hanging from their petals.
While this whole countryside was having its silent trembling miscarriage I spent some walking miles taking in all the beauty and the colors, because tomorrow when the temperature rises it will all fall to the ground.
A whole cluster of red-breasted Robins were royally pissed about the situation, I passed a bush full of them chattering and not even coming to a halt and moving away when I came close. It was like a big emergency bird-conference; we're Spring-birds dammit, what the heck are we gonna do now??.
The part of my path where I followed the creek was really quiet, particularly on a day like this, when not many people were out jogging or walking dogs. So the first living creature I saw was something similar to a German Shepherd, only less brown and more gray. I thought first that it was someones dog crossing the little dirt road and running into the fields..but then there was no human there and I remembered that coyotes are common to this landscape. He was big, so probably a male, and he went under the fence and into the bigger pastures, empty this time of year. I know there are many prairie dog colonies there, so maybe he was going to hunt for dinner. I followed him and stood by the fence watching him and when I whistled (because I wanted to have another look at his handsome snout), he stopped and looked back at me. So we looked at each other for several seconds and then he continued his trot through the undulating landscape without any hurry.
When I walked back to the path there was a jogging woman coming up and I pointed out the coyote to her, and she confirmed that "yes indeed, that is a cayo, and a really big one too".
A newspaper article during the last week was telling a story about a coyote in the Chicago area trotting right into a 7-Eleven store and curling up in front of one of the coolers, just chilling out. He was perfectly friendly and unafraid, so people could have a good long look at him until the Animal Control officers came to take him away.
Coming home I wished that I'd had a camera and some beef jerky with me, but people tell me that you shouldn't leave snacks out for wild animals ever, so I guess I'll never see that stately fellow chew, but this was plenty of eye-candy for me anyway.
This last week winter has returned to this part of Colorado, first with rain and today with scarce snow. It's been an odd couple of days, with a kind of magical gloom in which every blossom, flower and bright green leaf is incapsuled in ice. In the very still snow-flaked air I could observe pink, yellow and white blossoms perfectly preserved in huge clusters of ice, it was like someone had taken every tree and bush and put it suddenly in a gigantic freezer. The daffodils were sagging from the weight of frozen rags hanging from their petals.
While this whole countryside was having its silent trembling miscarriage I spent some walking miles taking in all the beauty and the colors, because tomorrow when the temperature rises it will all fall to the ground.
A whole cluster of red-breasted Robins were royally pissed about the situation, I passed a bush full of them chattering and not even coming to a halt and moving away when I came close. It was like a big emergency bird-conference; we're Spring-birds dammit, what the heck are we gonna do now??.
The part of my path where I followed the creek was really quiet, particularly on a day like this, when not many people were out jogging or walking dogs. So the first living creature I saw was something similar to a German Shepherd, only less brown and more gray. I thought first that it was someones dog crossing the little dirt road and running into the fields..but then there was no human there and I remembered that coyotes are common to this landscape. He was big, so probably a male, and he went under the fence and into the bigger pastures, empty this time of year. I know there are many prairie dog colonies there, so maybe he was going to hunt for dinner. I followed him and stood by the fence watching him and when I whistled (because I wanted to have another look at his handsome snout), he stopped and looked back at me. So we looked at each other for several seconds and then he continued his trot through the undulating landscape without any hurry.
When I walked back to the path there was a jogging woman coming up and I pointed out the coyote to her, and she confirmed that "yes indeed, that is a cayo, and a really big one too".
A newspaper article during the last week was telling a story about a coyote in the Chicago area trotting right into a 7-Eleven store and curling up in front of one of the coolers, just chilling out. He was perfectly friendly and unafraid, so people could have a good long look at him until the Animal Control officers came to take him away.
Coming home I wished that I'd had a camera and some beef jerky with me, but people tell me that you shouldn't leave snacks out for wild animals ever, so I guess I'll never see that stately fellow chew, but this was plenty of eye-candy for me anyway.
