Month: December 2023

This is a tale of animals on the move. After our last snow, Clair, Zane, and I went for an early morning walk up our county road. Winter always brings my tracking geek out and that day was perfect. First, I saw a very fresh set of rather small, nearly clawless prints heading with a determined stride straight up the road….no turns or stops. No more than 5-6 hours old. The animal was a fox, with long legs and paws in a perfect one-in-front-of-the-other line. There’s a mama fox living down-canyon from us, so maybe her?

After about a mile, a second set of prints joined the first, these slightly larger, more dog-like, and laying right on top of the fox’s. A coyote was checking out where the fox was headed and following closely; maybe to a good meal? They were serious critters, as they both ignored the numerous bunny paw prints crisscrossing the road, which looked to have happened earlier last night. Then, even older, snow-blown sets of elk tracks, maybe 3, appeared, headed in the same direction. Were Ms. Fox and Mr. Coyote following the bigger animals in hopes of finding one that was ill or dying? 

After a couple miles of this, the dogs and I reached a meadow where a hunter’s camper is permanently parked, and immediately, in the space of 5 feet, all the tracks scattered: the elk fading into the woods above the road with a few leaps, the fox and coyote running left and right, in circles, across each other, and then down into the arroyo below us, completely disappearing in the thick scrub oak and willow brush. I stood there staring at the now untouched snow in front of me, trying to make sense of what had happened to get all the animals so excited. A bear? A lion? There haven’t been any hunters up that far this year that we can tell, but maybe someone came over from the Jicarilla Apache Reservation, just 1/4 mile up the hill.

It was time to turn around, and as I did, I noticed that Clair had disappeared. Up until now, the dogs had shown little interest in all the tracks, other than the rabbits. They were more interested in running through the snow and begging me to throw sticks. Clair normally only wanders off when there is something extra delicious (read: stinky and rotten) nearby to dig up. I called her, and called again. Hmmmm, unusual for her to not come straight back. Finally, she showed up, but refused to come close. 

It took me a minute, but I realized she was carrying a very fresh, very dead, deer leg. Oh, yum! It still had some fresh blood dripping. Clair had a huge smile on her face.

Now, the whole story was made clear. Something, likely a hunter from over the mountain, wounded a deer, but then lost it (shame on that hunter for not continuing the search). The doe (likely, given the small size of the hoof) struggled down to the arroyo, where there was a bit of running water, and lay there for who knows how long until it died. The elk, innocently traveling through during the snowstorm either heard the death throes of the deer or caught scent of her or the hunter, and spooked up into the woods. Last night, Ms. Fox, with her uncanny sense of smell, got a whiff from miles away and came trotting up our road, determined to get there ASAP. Mr. Coyote, smelling both the fox AND the deer, figured he better get out there and see what was happening. Venison beats mice any day. 

Fox and coyote meet by the cabin, and run around to avoid each other (they are not always enemies and would prefer to sidestep any confrontation) but, eventually, they both head to the deer carcass. There are mountain lions around, after all, and if you’re a coyote or fox, you definitely want to steer clear of them! How did they divide up the spoils? Did they share and share alike? Or fight over every morsel? I did not go down there to find out (again…mountain lions).

Clair, Zane, and I show up the next morning and Clair’s nose leads her straight to the kill site. Zane was busy chasing a stick and had no interest in wandering. Clair didn’t have time to gnaw off a leg, so it must have been done by either fox or coyote. (Who are exactly where at this point? Gone to their dens, full and happy? Hiding in the brush until we’re gone?)

What a treat for a dog. She kept a good 100 feet away from me and Zane all the way home, growling whenever he came too close, hoping for a bite. She’d run ahead, then drop and chew, then run ahead again. By the time we got home, all that was left was that poor doe’s hoof. By then, Clair was done with it and gently left it on our front stoop as a gift, while she went in to take a nap.

The End

In other news, to escape the now muddy conditions, Alan and I spent a day in Taos, doing some last-minute Christmas shopping. We stayed at our favorite, dog-friendly Inn at La Loma Plaza and took a hike along the West Rim of the Rio Grande Gorge. Great views.

Alan and I hope that you all enjoyed the return of light on the Solstice and we wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

☃️🎄

Apricity: the warmth of the sun in winter

Merriam-Webster Dictionary

“These humicubations, the nocturnal irrorations, and the dankishness of the atmosphere, generated by a want of apricity, were extremely febrifacient.”

Lorenzo Altisonant (aka Samuel Klinefelter Hoshour), Letters to Squire Pedant, 1856

“The domination of Nature leads to domination of human beings.”

Abbey, E. (1984). Beyond the Wall: Essays from Outside. Holt Paperbacks.

“Growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of a cancer cell”

Abbey, E. (1979). The Blob Comes to Arizona. New York Times, May 16, 1979.

I still love winter, although I’m not as fond of the shoulder seasons, the constant shift from mud to frozen and back, until it finally stays cold enough to keep the ground hard. Then I’m happy. What I love about it is the relief from summer heat, which I do not enjoy, and the joy of apricity when sitting on the south side of the house in a T-shirt, and it’s only 20 degrees on the north side. I love the quiet, the animal tracks (and animals) that emerge once hunters disappear, and the shadows that hide in the snow. Sure, I get tired of endless layers of clothing going on and off and on again. But not that tired, and not until February, when we will start a long vacation south. That’s another thing to love about winter: the opportunity to get away from it and enjoy a warmer clime.

Once again, serendipity has struck here at 4 Fords. After our greywater drain system clogged last month some 70′ from the house, no “snake” could go further, and no clean-out was there to access it. Alan and I got a backhoe operator to come, only to have him sadly get ill. After a few weeks, as the ground froze, we gave up on getting the darn clog fixed until spring. Alan set up a workaround, using a sump pump that could drain the 70′ of pipe regularly, allowing us to continue to take showers and wash dishes. For several nights, we half-heartedly poured some natural drain cleaner down it (made from earthworms), but didn’t expect much. Lo and behold, after the 5th day, and more than a month into the mess, the drain is free and clear. All hail the Earthworms! Let the holiday season begin!

I am finishing up a challenging semester of teaching Mental Health. I love the students, it’s the rest I can’t stand. I plan to continue to teach at least until we’re done with all the big renovations, or until they fire me. I’m not the easiest professor for the administration to manage in the Colorado Community College System. I especially enjoy teaching inmates from the Colorado Dept. of Corrections. They rock.

We continue to take mini steps forward on projects around the place. Alan, having finished his workshop, is enclosing the utility closet, the one with the giant filters. It will soon be hidden from view. I am doing the same in the bathroom, building a cupboard and a small shelf. Since our house defies the laws of Feng-Shui (by having the front and back doors opposite each other), I’ve hung some Chinese Emperor coins over the doors to keep the money from flying out as fast as it comes in. I’m sure that will be a huge help during a large renovation.

We’ve also been having fun with art projects, something that has been sadly neglected these past 2 years. Alan created some wonderful Christmas cards, based on our favorite ornaments, and I’ve been playing with something called Neurographics, a strange, but quite interesting look at where art and neurology blend. We both hope that 2024 will bring more and more art.

I have just finished one of the best books I’ve read in a long while. I often get bogged down in non-fiction books: everything the author wants to say gets said in the first chapter; the rest is just fluff. But “Wrenched from the Land: Activists Inspired by Edward Abbey“, by ML Lincoln (2020), is an engaging series of interviews done with people strongly influenced by Abbey into environmental activism. Most were good friends of his. The interviewer keeps his own voice out of it and lets these uncompromising characters (and they ARE all characters) speak for themselves. From Paul Watson of Sea Shepherds (anti-whaling organization) to Shonto Begay (Navajo artist extraordinaire) to Terry Tempest Williams, each one speaks of how Abbey energized them to become who they are today. A wonderful, encouraging book.

As the winter solstice approaches, we give thanks to the returning of light, to the return of moisture, to a good Solstice fire as we watch the sun sink over the cliff on December 21st, and, finally, to the chance to relax and “den up” a bit in the coming winter. (Well, after the holidays, anyway 🎄.)