Not bad, eh? Hey: Did I tell you? Janneke got tenure. They're gonna frickin' BURY us here.
At the top of the hill, where you park your car, there's a sign - several, actually - that says, "NO SLEDDERS BEYOND THIS POINT". Which makes absolutely no sense. I mean, if I'm not going beyond that point, which is to say, if I'm in the road, then in what way exactly am I a sledder? And if I am allowed to be a sledder UP TO that point, where precisely am I meant to sled? Uphill, perhaps...? Besides which, umpteen sled tracks grace the crest of the hill, visible from the parking area. And, finally: If not for sledding, why IS there a parking area there? In the end, we gave Q, who read the sign, a valuable life lesson: When a rule makes no sense, flout it.
Ready for some heavy-duty floutin'?
Well, since I'm up, and you're here, I’ll tell you the story of this morning’s hunt, why-don’t-I.
Up and at ‘em at 4:11, and out the door by 4:30, to be walking into the mountain by 5:00 and arrive at the spot I had elected to stand by 6:00. All went like clockwork, though I could have been at the stand by 5:45. I walked right past the turn-off for some reason. I was following a gas line (pics to follow), treeless and mown by the gas company (for miles and miles – gives you a whole new respect for the folks who work on our infrastructure), and convinced myself that it must be farther along. But when the gas line looked unfamiliar, I realized my mistake and headed back. Walking the gas line is pretty easy these days compared to being out in the trees: we had easily two feet of snow on the ground, but yesterday the temperatures got into the 50s, and it rained. So the snow that was there deteriorated and then froze overnight, making for a landscape of crust. Which means that it’s all but impossible to sneak up on a deer. In soft, powdery snow, it’s very unlikely. And in crusty snow, forget it.
So I had determined to stand. My spot seemed a likely one, given the way in which, on previous days, deer had walked in my tracks from when I passed through in the morning, to when I returned in the afternoon, in both directions. I learned by experience last time that the beaver ponds there below are not fun to try to cross, and had deduced thus that the deer had been avoiding them by way of the crossroads in trails just uphill of a wooded knoll. I had resolved to sit on a fallen tree that commands a view of several trails and await my deer.
Never came, though. I got there just as the moon set (lucky thing, that, as once the moon set, you couldn’t see much at all), and stayed there for three hours. Nothin’. A pair of ravens flew over early on, around 6:30, mocking me. That was it.
I did learn a lot, though. I learned that the town of Adams, far below, comes awake at precisely 6:30. Engines and sirens and honking galore. And that squirrels are very lazy – one could see for a good hour up there before they came out of their nests. They waited until the sun had actually struck the treetops before coming out.
The tree trunk I sat on had a pair of icicles on one branch that lit up when the sun topped the mountains across the valley:
But after three hours, my feet, slightly wet from yet another tussle with the beaver ponds, were too cold to keep still, and I decided to head home. Surprisingly, the snowmobile trails had firmed up between the time I used them to walk in at 5:00 and the time I started leaving, around 9:00. Never broke through the crust once - on the way in, the most I had made it without crashing through had been six steps. (I was counting.) I got back around to here:
(whence you can see the orchards down below), when I saw very fresh tracks, crossing my own from the morning. And I took up the challenge, and followed them. That deer started following a path that had been laid down two days ago, by me:
You can see the two little black marks in the larger tracks - the deer, this very morning, was walking in my footsteps from two days ago. Not likely a buck, as that seems very un-bucklike (they're far more paranoid and cautious than does), but I followed it anyway. Could have been a young one, inexperienced. I'm after meat in the freezer - I'm not picky. I'll take a young buck if I can. Here's another shot of the tracks inside my own:
That darn deer followed my tracks all the way to where I had crossed a gorge two days ago, following, at the time, another deer (or, quite possibly, the same one). I kept on past the gorge and emerged at a road, precisely at a spot where Jim, my native guide, had told me his brother always sets up, and where he had killed an eight-pointer this year. "This is where they cross," he had said.
Well, I guess so. So next time (the 26th), I'm walking to THERE and setting up a fricking hour before the sun comes up. It's a veritable highway. Here's the gorge they cross:
And here's the steely determination they'll meet with on the 26th:
And here are the boots that will carry me to triumph, and hopefully nowhere neare any bevers whatever, drying by the hearth:
Other things happened today, too - don't think they didn't. Here, T sings along with the public TV broadcast of all the local school choirs. Try reading her lips:
That's right: "Sexual Healing". No, no, of course - it's Jingle Bells. Although, when T sings that song, it does get a little blue.
While that went on, we were all enjoying a Christmas copetin, courtesy of Janneke:
As you can see, the day-before-a-holiday tradition of identical clothing continues. And, slightly later on, in keeping with another tradition, Santa's treats were delivered to the living room:
It's all very exciting. What can I say, we live well.
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