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Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Tracking the not-a-bunny



We received a truly sunny day yesterday. It felt like a spring sunny day too, not one of those anemic, sun-through-high-clouds with wind-flinging-grainy-snow-in-front-of-it sunny days, (which are about as warming as the light from the refrigerator), but a real icicle stretcher.




It called to me. It has been nearly impossible to walk outdoors around here for at least six weeks. Ice storm after ice storm has conspired to lock the ground down against the intrusion of questing feet. We went where we had to and stayed inside otherwise.

But yesterday, lovely yesterday, the ice was soft, the snow crust would still hold you up and there was a buttering of soft, squashy snow to keep you from slipping. It teased me away from indoor chores for a walk up to the heifer pasture. There were tracks lacing everywhere, melted like wax under a candle, but still clear for the reading. Last night's bunny tracks, edges higher than the track itself from the sun's intense gaze. Skunk or possum tracks noodling down the fence line in search of something only he recognized. Crow tracks, fresh as newly embroidered stitchery, all over the pasture. (Wonder what they were looking for.) The spots of bare ground called the sparrow tribe away from the feeders too...I didn't see a junco all day and only one white-throat.

Next came the tracks of the elusive not-a-bunny. He walked out from the old brown three-bay shed, crossed the page wire fence into the horse yard, then into the horse pasture proper, back to the yard and then off across the heifer pasture. He was clearly on a quest for something, from the looks of his last night tracks, but I have no idea what it might have been. Maybe mice and voles, as I suspect that the not-a-bunny was a midnight red fox.

Then larger tracks of the old, but still impatient, border collie who accompanied me began to blur the text of the last night's travelogue. Reluctantly I returned to my work. Today and tomorrow it is back to the two-storms-a-week pattern that has plagued us for at least a month, but I am still warm around the edges from yesterday's sun. I tried to photograph the pattern of the tracks, but with the blinding light on the snow, all my pictures were pathetic. A squeaking, peeping patch of chickadees obligingly posed to make up the deficiency.

7 comments:

Stacy said...

Sounds like a great time outdoors. Our sunny day came on Sunday and we were able to get out on the ice dunes on Lake Erie for a bit. Cold, but the sun was balm for the soul!

Cathy said...

I so enjoy your writing. This:
" . . . began to blur the text of the last night's travelogue."

Very nice. That old dog is pretty special.

threecollie said...

Stacy, I have wanted to walk up there for a couple of weeks, but didn't want to risk a fall...your Lake Erie photos were spectacular!

Cathy, thanks so much...he is a good boy, most of the time, although his deafness is very selective.

R.Powers said...

I could hear the crunch of the snow and feel the chill on my face.
Nice job 3C.
Cool shots too. Crisp.

threecollie said...

FC, thanks! The chicks were so hungry that they came close enough to get decent shots even with my 3X zoom

Kathie Brown said...

Lovely imagery! A Dairy Farm, sigh! My grandfather raised and milked holsteins and as a young girl I would help at a dairy farm in CT. Most people who know me now would be surprised to learn I can still milk a cow or a goat by hand! Nice photos. Like your name, Threecollies. It's why I came to check you out!

threecollie said...

kathiesbirds, thanks for visiting! Congrats on being able to milk..not many can.
The name is for our three border collies, Mike, Nick and Gael