I'm rather prone to friend-making of both the human and animal kind. (Let's not split hairs on the science of humans belonging to the animal kingdom . . . or the fact that there are those humans who more resemble the beasts of the field than mannered socially-contributing folks. That's another story.) And ever since my camera -- or whatever lovely borrowed DSLR I might be toting around and hate to one day part with -- became an extension of myself, it seems that my new friend count began to up.
Though we never laid eyes on predators of any kind, the four-legged variety, there were hawks and carrion-eaters, I know with absolute surety that they lurked behind or beneath a boulder somewhere not far off. They simply had to because the sheer numbers of instant dinners in the form of mini-mammals galore was staggering! Never have I seen so-o many low-to-the-ground scurrying critters, and such nifty varieties, in the space of one wilderness sojourn.
Of course, the forest harbored squirrels aplenty. Though they remained silent during the dark of a pre-dawn morning as we trudged along at the beginning of our journey, said squirrels scolded us at every knee-jarring turn in the path upon our return through their wooded neighborhood. I tried to squeeze off a few shots of them but the results were not satisfying nor worthy of a picture post here.
Now, the smooth balls of fluff which seemed to permeate the ground all around us during the tundra portion of our hike, the pica, or pika as many people choose to spell it, were a favorite of mine. Little charmers of unending cuteness. (There's even an 13,000 foot peak in the White River National Forest of Colorado called Pica Peak.) And I DID try to take a portrait of several specimens along the way but they're too darned quick! If there'd been energy and time to set up a mini-tripod and hang around for a bit, I know I would have reaped a satisfying reward. However, I did scour the Internet and found a few borrowed images to share. Interesting to note, the pica is NOT a rodent but is an actual cousin to rabbits. Of which we saw several as they hopped into our path before realizing their folly and swiftly hightailing it outta there. (There was this line of banter concerning Jody, the young woman and girlfriend to Shep, as a 'rabbit choker.' I never really got it until over lunch the day after our adventures, when it was explained to me for historical reasons I won't get into here, that Shep is from Wyoming and Jody hails from South Dakota, and the citizens of Wyoming, feeling superior to their neighbors, referred to natives of South Dakota as 'rabbit chokers' in a derogatory sense. Obviously, Shep and Jody had parlayed it into an ongoing relationship joke.)
"Peekaboo!"
Those ears. That fur. The wee paws.
Upon reaching the Boulder Field, we ran into our next wildlife friend. Or, rather, he ambled into us! One bold plump marmot, obviously an opportunistic feeder hanging out at the base camp at the foot of the keyhole entrance to the other side of Long's Peak, ingratiated himself with our party. And as you'll see here, the waddling rascal was wholly unafraid of us homo sapiens.
I spot him and think, "Oh, come our way, little critter!"
As if attuned to my brain waves, he began to head in our general direction.
Maybe we were between him -- an instant assumption of his sex on my part -- and his family? Or his den? My knowledge of marmots was limited, I'll admit.
"Come on, come over here, come see us!"
Chipmunks ran amok at the stop near the clear sunken lake near which we rested on our way up. On our way down, I had need of the open-air outhouse -- pack your used wiping products out, thanks so much -- so we plunked down at this same spot for a brief respite before entering the forest during our final endless leg of our 13 1/2 hour sojourn. We met a family of campers who had spent their day fishing and were headed back with their catch and their poles tossed over their shoulders. They appeared considerably fresher than anyone in our group. And then there was that one singular chipmunk, so earnest, so curious, so bold and begging, who yearned to share my sister's bag of nuts, dried fruit and chocolate. My sister, while willing to leave a sample for said chipmunk, was not of a mood to entice it from her hand. I'm sure visions of the biting marmot were yet fresh in her mind. Smart girl!
He wasted NO time. And both of those almonds ended up crammed into his cheeks!
Aside from the rodents and their ilk, birds ranked as the the second highest viewed member of the animal kingdom. I've snapped many a hawk and sparrow and cardinal. But I can't recall ever having seen a , much less pointed a camera in it's direction and recorded its handsomeness for posterity . . . and my blog.
Our presence caused them little to no distress.
A final shot as I try to catch up with the human pack up ahead!
When you put it all together, the scenery, the challenge, the mountain itself, the company, the wildlife, this trip, this entire episode in my life, ranks right up there on the ol' bucket list. One of those items you check off even though you didn't actually realize it had even made it onto your life list. I'm quite satisfied with all of it. Every element. Even my burning shoulder can't detract from the accomplishment. In fact, I'm hankering for a good fourteener hike on a monthly basis now. It's in my blood.
Until another summit opportunity presents itself, I'll soldier on with other blog topics. But first, a few random shots that don't really fit into a specific category regarding this hike but still deserving of honorable mention.
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| Though not a cat person, Rob was smitten with Mooney. |
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| I love how they both track the approaching dog here. |
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| Here comes the comfort and commiseration. |
The local wildlife ala Fort Collins.
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