Day 38, Friday, 2/15/08, Year Four Dancer & Daedee: Snow Falling on Eagles

Hello Eagle Friends,

It was a spectacular day in the valley. The blue skies filled the valley with an eye-candy shade of blue, which was a real treat from the blinding white snow on the ground and skies these past several days. In fact, it even made the golden grasses, dried plants, the evergreens, and the brown hues in every tree and branch something to marvel at.

Why even the dried, burnt red sumac had it's own beauty in numbers today. I found one spot where there must have been a thousand six foot sumac saplings, all capped in with crowns of burnt orange and brick reds.

As I strapped on my snowshoes, a good friend pulled up.
"How you doin' Larry?"
"I was wondering how you are. Are the eagles nesting yet?"
"Close. Another couple weeks, but they are busy working on their nests."

Larry is a dear friend who has always been supportive and kind to me. He also lets me use his land for my photography. He had to move on to get to another town.

I keep wishing that this were my home, well, it is, but I'd kind of like to have a flight of stairs, a working washer and dryer, and 6 bedrooms, one for every artistic mood.

I hardly noticed the 1 degree temperature. I checked two weather stations on my drive to the valley. Both announcers on the two different radio stations said, "the weather today is cold."
Then they moved on to another topic.

So, that's what I documented in my notebook. "Today is cold."

I checked my truck gauge, which has for the most part, matched up with the radio announcers weather report all fall and now winter. It was minus 1 when I left Rochester, but 1 above when I arrived. I had traveled through a two degree change but barely noticed it.

I would guess the way the winds were howling, and lifting the snow from the ground, stirring it in the air, and biting my face, it was at least minus 10 or 15 below. That and "cold."

I snowshoed out to Daedee and Dancer's eagle nest. I searched up and down the river but saw no eagles. Then the unexpected happened, I took another step and threw my snowshoe.
The strap was too loose. I mused that at least no one had to shoot me for throwing my shoe.

I stood in the saplings, listening to the blue jays, and I knew they'd tease me with their appearance and fly off just as I put my lens to them, so I ignored them.

On the top of the snow was a tiny gray and white feather. I wondered if it was the chickadees?
I laid down in the snow to photograph it up close.

That sent me off into an entirely new world. In just a few shots, it wasn't the feather per say, but the realization that there must be a million "feathers" out there I could try and find in the snow, on the trees, wedged between flood brush; that's what really set me off exploring.

I hiked along the river and looked ahead at the untraveled white snow-covered sandbar. On the opposite side of the river was a creek and all around it were dozens of deer track. If I had a field camera with me, that would be the spot to hang it. Right there at that bend in the river.

I left around 11:15 and went off another road to look for snipe. Those were snipe yesteday that I had found, not sandpipers. I had not seen them in almost a year and I guess I had forgotten the beauty of each species.

I also remember my cousins convincing us "Yankees" to go on a snipe hunt around Grand Lake, in Okalahoma, years ago. Actually, it was over three decades ago. I remember the flour sack, and bumping into my brother who held the flashlight. Those were the memories that came back today when I saw four snipe sifting through the stream.

I traveled on and found a Nest 6 eagle above the nest on a perch directly above the nest. I thought how lucky their eaglets will feel with mom or dad just above them. Of course, I can't  be counting eaglets before they hatch.

The trumpeter swans barely raised their heads to the wind. They laid side by side, up on the   ice, just far enough apart that I couldn't get them both in one frame with my big lens.

The geese swam back and forth and were busy eating the weeds that were seemingly abundant these past couple days. The winds blew across them and a steam rose from the open water blinding my view of the geese momentarily.

I drove on and found nests 2-5 empty. No eagles anywhere. I moved on and found the cottontail
sitting in its opening in the cave. The rabbit watched me lift my camera and shoot a few frames.
I shot a couple minutes of video of the furry little face with the brown sugar eyes.

As I moved to floor of the valley on the edge of the woods I noticed a large dark animal moving  in the snow. When I arrived close enough to see, I found two wild turkey who scrambled down the river bank.

I drove above the valley and pulled over to a forrest and started wondering where I would like  to begin my hikes. The evergreens blanketed the entire area, and I could almost feel the woods darkness, the deafening sound of stillness broken by a flash of scarlet red from a male cardinal.

As I drove along I found another road that partially plowed from what I could tell. I was wondering if I'd get stuck on some low maintence road, however when I drove as far as I could instead of finding a narrow snow-covered, impossible to turn around road, I found an outhouse. I have to tell you nothing looked more inviting.

No doubt, it was "open for business."

I got out of my truck and was heading its direction, when suddenly, two golden eagles rose from the valley and flew above my head, back and forth. I photographed them, but every time they flew over the outhouse, I almost wished they would come back in about two minutes.

I photographed the eagles flying in circles around each other and diving down on one another. I photographed them with the sun catching their brown eyes, and without the sun in them. I photographed them cocking their head looking at me, probably saying to one another, "Why is that girl crossing her legs when there is an outhouse right there?"

As suddenly as they appeared the eagles disappeared into the reach of the evergreens. I put my camera down, and headed towards the rustic-looking outhouse, a "privy" that looked like it had probably been in existence since the turn of the century.

I only took a few steps onto the unshoveled path before I noticed the long, winding set of coyote tracks that led up to the partially opened door to the outhouse.

I think my words were, "No. Don't even joke about this God." Both a question and a request for help to my Heavenly Father, who didn't have to wait for April Fool's day to show his sense of humor.

The thing is, as a woman, once you set it in your mind that you need to use a privy, well, I've never figured out how to reverse that feeling. I was going in. Coyote or not, here I come.

I have to admit out of all my misfortunes during my adventures, from tripping and landing belly down on jagged stick that scraped my ribs instead of piercing them, from flash floods that challenged my speed to get out, to gullies that were now waterfalls that I had to cross, to blizzards and tornados, to having my dog go south while I went north landing me on my metal tripod and ripping my chin open; well, the last place I would want to be found "expired" is in an outhouse eaten by an awakened coyote.

There's a reason they say, "Let sleeping dogs lie."

I had second thoughts. I figured I had waited this long, what was a few more minutes? I walked real slow. I didn't want to startle him. I wanted to give him every opportunity to leave on his own. Bad storm day or not, why on earth would a coyote want to go inside an outhouse anyways? Nothing smells that good in there.

I listened for rustling sounds, there are always a half dozen fall leaves blowing into outhouses. I listened for the sound of heavy slumber. I questioned if someone had thrown food or garbage  into the  outhouse seat. Maybe that was why the coyote was attracted to go inside.

I took another step, quietly, for now I could see partially into the darkness of the outhouse.
I wondered if there would be bite marks on the toilet paper, dogs love chewing on toilet paper rolls, then I wondered if there even would be any toilet paper.

I stopped in my tracks which were right next to the coyotes. I cleared my throat and coughed. I thought I'd give him one last chance to come out. I waited and waited but no one came out. I
was just reaching for the door handle when that door blew into my hand, began forcing me back, as I swallowed my heart. I expected white fangs coming at me, in a fast, lunging jump, some outhouse shade of grey and white coyote, a big one, with snarly jaws cinching my juggular vein. Before I could even exhale; the door slammed shut, and then it came to a rest, partially open just as I had found it a minute ago.

I convinced myself that it was just the wind; or maybe it was God himself that opened that door. All I remember is when that weathered, gray door opened enough light spilled inside for me to see there was no coyote hiding in the shadows.

Unless he fell in. I suddenly had fears of something coming up from the seat. That's when I noticed a long piece of tissue blowing. The wind must have unrolled it from the toilet paper holder. I was glad to see there were no bite marks. So I went in.

I speak to you from experience when I say, "You just can't take chances out in the wild. Always be ready and expect the unexpected, for it is always on the prowl. Forever be on your guard for your personal safety. Don't rush to the privy. Check your tracks for extras."

I can't figure out if the coyote went in, why weren't there any tracks leading out?


I'm looking forward to Day 39.

See you on the journey--

Lisa

Please note: This is just a sampling from each days story, or what I call my cliff note version. If you are interested in pre-ordering my Year Four Dancer & Daedee: Snow Falling on Eagles, please call, (866) 562-5125, 24/7/365, or email me at Lisa AT LisaLC.com.