With not much sunshine left in the day, the dogs and I headed out. Putting on my snowshoes was almost enough work for me! OK. I exaggerate. Down the incline, through the gate, and we began our normal walkabout. It’s not much, usually… but with snowshoes, it’s a tad bit more work. Before long, I’m panting and sweating, the dogs are running as best they can, snuffling, listening, pouncing, following those unseen trails of scent.
Birds are covering the willows and boxelders. Birds. Robins. Yes, those harbingers of spring… I do believe they’re lost! But they’re lost in record numbers as hundreds take to the sky. The sun lowers itself into its snow blanketed bed, and I manage a shot of the last of the robins now puffed up against the cooling air.
Dally, the ever watchful English Shepherd that she is, pauses in her snow adorning hunt to watch my pitiful progress.
The creek is edged with ice. Too rapid to ever freeze completely over, it serves a different purpose… it’s a haven for the Canada geese flying over, the only hint of their progress is the squeaking wind through their wings… and a water ouzel… bobbing on its chilly perch.
I finally relent and take the short cut back to the house, a complete loop around the field is too much for this snowshoe outing. It was enjoyable just the same.
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