Is it Winter Yet?

It might be, finally. It was 14F (-10C) when I got up this morning at about 10:30. I slept in. Sometimes it's kinda hard to get out of a nice warm bed, but someone has to stuff the stove or it won't stay warm very long.

It snowed a little bit yesterday dusting us with maybe all of another inch or so of the white stuff. Better than nothing, I suppose. Still, I wish it would just get on with it; I miss my snowstorms. Today I decided to take a walk down to the boats. I do like to see what critters are wandering around in our neighborhood, and the best time to do that is after a fresh snowfall. Today I immediately discovered the tracks of a large martin right here in the yard. I say he's large because his tracks are probably larger than a silver dollar, though it's been a while since I've seen one. I didn't trace all of his tracks around the yard, but it was obvious from his leisurely pace that he was on the hunt and not simply passing through as fast as possible. His tracks also came and went (or vise versa) a good distance down our trail, pausing to pay special attention to any mouse tracks that also crisscrossed the trail.

Speaking of those mouse trails. The mice we've seen this year are positively huge. How much of that is winter hair, I have no idea, but if I were to hold one in my hand (and not get bit) both their nose and their short tail would extend beyond my hand, and unless I squished to compress their fluff, my fingers wouldn't close around them. They are that big. Big enough to leave individual tiny tracks in their trails. I've seen smaller such trails, but they are for sure in the minority.

Another set of tracks I saw along the trail to the river was moose tracks. At first it was kind of hard to tell because his tracks weren't clear, so I don't think he was just moseying along, but I couldn't say what he was doing. It was just a single trail of a young moose. And I'm certain it had nothing to do with the young cow and her calf we saw day before yesterday.

That was funny. This pair came into the yard from somewhere slightly behind the house. We first became aware of them when we heard some thumpty-thumping going on outside. The calf was a little guy but he was fat and sassy, bounding around and harassing his momma. Momma wasn't too happy with his antics as her hackles were up and her ears back, but he could care less. He was bound and determined to be ornery. Out front, he stopped long enough to snatch at some fireweed and look at his momma as if to say, "I dare you to tell me no." It was so cute watching him. I'm betting his momma was fully ready to send him to his room for a while, and it was still early in the morning. hahaha That was my entertainment for the day.

Oh, and before I forget - The river report for the day is: still not able to travel around here, not out on our stretch of the river anyway. Can't get out on the river anyway, not until there's at least a couple feet of snow on the ground. Hope it snows soon.

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Battle for Season

The wind hums through the trees, sometimes a light breeze, sometimes a wannabe gale, struggling hard to push back the sun's heat.

The sun shines bright, higher and higher every day, five minutes longer than the day before, patiently advancing toward spring despite the wind's struggles.

The snow is now polished to a high sheen, glowing brightly in the afternoon sun. One step, once covered with a bit of packed snow, now only has a small patch and may be dry tomorrow. A small gas can, once covered by the last snow, is now visible, as if the last snow never happened. I went out and got my buckets of snow today, discovering in the process that the sheen was all polish and no ice, one small victory for the wind, in the battle over season.

The not-so-pretty part about this time of year.... They call these months the starving months. It was -1.1F this morning when I got up, and got up to about 10F during the heat of the day. For the assorted creatures out there, most food is either buried deep or frozen very hard, and if not enough stores were hidden away, and even if it was, it would be running low. Heaven forbid the industrious squirrel forgot where one of his stashes was hidden.

Small birds chatter merrily as they flit from tree to tree, searching desperately for seeds the wind might have left behind.

Moose eat the tender shoots and branch ends from the assorted bushes and small deciduous trees - whatever they can reach. Plenty of those still visible, but thanks to the incessant wind, such browse is freeze-dried, as evidenced by an orange-red pee spot too small for a moose and yet way too big for anything else. His struggles clearly visible as he plows chest deep through the snow in search of something he or another hasn't already found earlier.

The tracks I saw, or didn't see, as I walked to the river this afternoon. One moose. I suppose it's possible there were two, but I doubt it; I didn't think to try to count. The tracks were old but the trails were still quite clear. Young, maybe two years old, pretty young to be all alone, though not unheard of. Since he was peeing red I doubt he'll make it to spring, but I can always hope.

I didn't see any squirrel tracks, and I don't recall hearing one, but that doesn't really mean much, it was pretty cold.

I didn't see any rabbit tracks, but that doesn't mean much either, there's not many around - too many coyotes. Then again, I haven't heard any coyotes calling either, but that's not saying much, they don't call during the day all that much.

Mice, well mice don't leave many tracks this time of year, though I have seen some here and there throughout the winter. Nothing is going to bother the mouse population, they're safe and sound in their grass-lined tunnels deep under the snow where all the grass and their seeds are free for the taking - industrious little creatures. When the snow is all gone, there will be an impressive maze left behind to be raked up or merely obscured by new growth.

Spring is coming, I can feel the heat in the sun, though the wind is still out of the north and quite cold. The snow is very dry, still less than a third of a bucket of water per bucket packed with snow, and I pack it as hard as I can. I'm concerned that the rivers will be late in filling, delaying my going to work. Then again, last spring the sun heated us up to 80F for nearly a week in May, which got me there in time to meet the first employees getting off the plane - that's a first.

Tomorrow is the start of the Iditarod sled dog race - The Last Great Race. Ride a sled behind a team of a dozen or so dogs all the way to Nome. It's an amazing spectacle. Watching it on TV, well, watching it on TV just isn't the same. This year will be a cold one for them. The moose will be dangerous, willing to fight for what little solid footing the trail may provide to give them a break from plowing through the deep snow, even if only for a little while.