Don't tease me either.
Of course the nice days are while I'm at work. The predicted high for today is 45 degrees. It's enough to make me start thinking about spring and how nice everything will be when the birds return and the flowers start to open. A nice southerly breeze is to thank for this warm spell.
And then I read the forecast. Tomorrow it's going to dip down to a low of -20 overnight, and on Tuesday the predicted high temperature is -10. Oh well, back to normal.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Let The Eagle Soar
It warmed up long enough for it to snow an inch or two in the last 24 hours. Even though it's still very cold out, I can see the snow melting off of the sunny, south slopes of the bluffs in front of my apartment.
I had time to go out and take pictures, though I dared not stray far from the car or turn it off while I was way out there in the park. I found white-tailed deer, horses, bison, and golden eagles pretty easily on two trips the last two mornings. I was hoping to get a picture of snow-covered bison. It didn't quite work out that way, but I did get a nice close one with snow on its nose.
I am working on a TR page for my website now that I have enough pictures together to make it worthwhile. It's a lot of work, so be patient.
In the meantime, here is some video I took of a golden eagle I was watching at the Wind Canyon Overlook. While driving up the road, I got to the Wind Canyon trailhead and only gave half a second of thought as to whether I should walk out there even though I was just there yesterday. "Of course I should," said my feet as they started out the car. I was taking some pictures of the eroded sandstone when I could hear a magpie giving its alarm call. It's not that unusual of a sound, and there was only one so I didn't think much of it. But when I got around the corner, I could see the magpie perched next to a golden eagle sitting on the railing at the end of the trail. Of course, the eagle knew I was there and it took off before I got much further down the trail.
I stood at the overlook and inspected the railing where it had been perched. That explained the dried muddy ares on the top rail, and maybe the little scratches in the wood. I squinted into the sun and watched the eagle circle above the ridge, the canyon scooping the light wind upward. Then I saw it fold its wings and dive down to meet another eagle that seemed to be chasing another bird below, right about where the Loop Road meets up with the East River Road. They disappeared behind a hill.
I thought that was pretty neat to see, but I waited to see if one of the eagles would reappear. It did, and this time, it was flying more toward me than before. Right then, the worst nightmare: the camera batteries died. Planning ahead for this, I had put fresh batteries in the breast pocket of my coat. I threw my gloves to the ground, popped open the battery case, and shook the batteries out onto the ground while I fished the other batteries out of my pocket. I finally got the batteries in the camera, closed the cover, turned the camera on - which seemed to take an excruciatingly long time - zoomed it out and started filming.
I expected the eagle to circle and head back to the right. I lost it behind the fence post. You'll see what I did get in the video below (19 MB).
It looks like the wildlife biologists are doing target practice with their dart gun across the street. Haha, one of them is using binoculars to check the hits for the target 50 feet away.
I'm making a run into town later this afternoon for food. I'm down to peanut butter, rice, bread, a box of pasta, and some frozen vegetables. I think I'll hit Taco John's on the way in for a treat. Mmm, potato things.
I had time to go out and take pictures, though I dared not stray far from the car or turn it off while I was way out there in the park. I found white-tailed deer, horses, bison, and golden eagles pretty easily on two trips the last two mornings. I was hoping to get a picture of snow-covered bison. It didn't quite work out that way, but I did get a nice close one with snow on its nose.
I am working on a TR page for my website now that I have enough pictures together to make it worthwhile. It's a lot of work, so be patient.
In the meantime, here is some video I took of a golden eagle I was watching at the Wind Canyon Overlook. While driving up the road, I got to the Wind Canyon trailhead and only gave half a second of thought as to whether I should walk out there even though I was just there yesterday. "Of course I should," said my feet as they started out the car. I was taking some pictures of the eroded sandstone when I could hear a magpie giving its alarm call. It's not that unusual of a sound, and there was only one so I didn't think much of it. But when I got around the corner, I could see the magpie perched next to a golden eagle sitting on the railing at the end of the trail. Of course, the eagle knew I was there and it took off before I got much further down the trail.
I stood at the overlook and inspected the railing where it had been perched. That explained the dried muddy ares on the top rail, and maybe the little scratches in the wood. I squinted into the sun and watched the eagle circle above the ridge, the canyon scooping the light wind upward. Then I saw it fold its wings and dive down to meet another eagle that seemed to be chasing another bird below, right about where the Loop Road meets up with the East River Road. They disappeared behind a hill.
I thought that was pretty neat to see, but I waited to see if one of the eagles would reappear. It did, and this time, it was flying more toward me than before. Right then, the worst nightmare: the camera batteries died. Planning ahead for this, I had put fresh batteries in the breast pocket of my coat. I threw my gloves to the ground, popped open the battery case, and shook the batteries out onto the ground while I fished the other batteries out of my pocket. I finally got the batteries in the camera, closed the cover, turned the camera on - which seemed to take an excruciatingly long time - zoomed it out and started filming.
I expected the eagle to circle and head back to the right. I lost it behind the fence post. You'll see what I did get in the video below (19 MB).
It looks like the wildlife biologists are doing target practice with their dart gun across the street. Haha, one of them is using binoculars to check the hits for the target 50 feet away.
I'm making a run into town later this afternoon for food. I'm down to peanut butter, rice, bread, a box of pasta, and some frozen vegetables. I think I'll hit Taco John's on the way in for a treat. Mmm, potato things.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
So much for the balmy weather...
From the National Weather Service in Bismarck, ND, and retaining its original RED ALL-CAPS for urgency:
AN ALBERTA CLIPPER WILL MOVE INTO WESTERN NORTH DAKOTA THURSDAY AFTERNOON BRINGING ANOTHER ROUND OF LIGHT SNOW AND VERY STRONG WINDS. THE SYSTEM COULD SPREAD 1 TO 3 INCHES OF NEW SNOW ACROSS WESTERN AND CENTRAL NORTH DAKOTA. STRONG NORTHWEST WINDS WILL DEVELOP ACROSS WESTERN AND CENTRAL NORTH DAKOTA THURSDAY AFTERNOON AND EVENING...WITH GUSTS OF 40 TO 50 MPH LIKELY. THE COMBINATION OF NEW SNOW AND STRONG WINDS WILL CAUSE CONSIDERABLE BLOWING SNOW...AND BLIZZARD CONDITIONS COULD DEVELOP. IN ADDITION FALLING TEMPERATURES WILL COMBINE WITH THE STRONG WINDS TO DROP THE WIND CHILL INDEX TO AROUND 30 BELOW...OR POSSIBLY COLDER.
AN ALBERTA CLIPPER WILL MOVE INTO WESTERN NORTH DAKOTA THURSDAY AFTERNOON BRINGING ANOTHER ROUND OF LIGHT SNOW AND VERY STRONG WINDS. THE SYSTEM COULD SPREAD 1 TO 3 INCHES OF NEW SNOW ACROSS WESTERN AND CENTRAL NORTH DAKOTA. STRONG NORTHWEST WINDS WILL DEVELOP ACROSS WESTERN AND CENTRAL NORTH DAKOTA THURSDAY AFTERNOON AND EVENING...WITH GUSTS OF 40 TO 50 MPH LIKELY. THE COMBINATION OF NEW SNOW AND STRONG WINDS WILL CAUSE CONSIDERABLE BLOWING SNOW...AND BLIZZARD CONDITIONS COULD DEVELOP. IN ADDITION FALLING TEMPERATURES WILL COMBINE WITH THE STRONG WINDS TO DROP THE WIND CHILL INDEX TO AROUND 30 BELOW...OR POSSIBLY COLDER.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Winter Hiking
Actually, it felt more like spring hiking. A nice warm south wind brought the mercury up a bit over the weekend and Amber and I got some hiking done.
On Friday, I didn't even need to wear a jacket as we explored a few miles of the Maah Daah Hey Trail along the Little Missouri. I began to attempt to open up the wire fence to climb through at the beginning of the trail, broke part of the wire, then realized I had a key for the gate right next to the hole in the fence. A small group of horses was grazing on the floodplain across the river from us. A magpie in a juniper on top of a hill across the river from the Cottonwood Campground caught Amber's eye. We decided to climb the hill, which just allowed us to see how much more hill was behind it. The view from there was nice, though, with a small forest of junipers in the shade behind the hill and a sweeping view across the Little Missouri floodplain. We followed feral cat tracks down the heavily braided trail through the sagebrush back to the car. The mixture of melting snow and flour-like clay soil thickened to a sort of muddy pancake batter that clung relentlessly to our boots and pants.
Saturday, we attempted a more ambitious hike, a 12-mile loop from the Jones Creek Trail, connecting with the Lower Talkington Trail, then the Lower Paddock Creek Trail, then followed the road back to where we started. I say "ambitious" because there was utterly no one out there for miles and miles, and we passed not one human for the duration of the hike. Weather was still warm, but cloudy and threatening to sprinkle. As we started the walk, a group of about a dozen bison was feeding on a hillside near the trailhead. A few miles of braided trail after that, I looked ahead to see another 20 or so bison about a quarter mile ahead. I hoped that they weren't on the actual trail, but sure enough, one was standing right by the post. We walked closer, cautious now that we were on foot and approaching an entire herd of animals that any one of which could smash our heads.
This was a different situation for me, a herd of potentially deadly and unpredictable animals. From my prior luck with mountain goats becoming aggressive toward me, I wasn't too keen on pressing my luck. I wasn't scared or nervous, but cautious. Amber reached her comfort zone before I did. I approached the situation like I have other large mammals - I made my presence known before I suddenly appeared at close range. The group scampered upslope near the trail, but not far enough for me to feel safe continuing on the trail. I was just thinking about whether more bison might be in the creekbed out of sight and whether I wanted to start going that way when another group of a dozen bison came sprinting out of the gully and across the flat toward the rest of the group. They all stood there staring at us. We gracefully skirted across the dry creek that had cut down sharply and through the junipers to keep our distance. Back there, I found a juniper tree the bison had been essentially taking apart - branches were on the ground and chewed on. They continued staring. We got back to the trail after circling around and continued down the trail without incident.
To me, the Jones Creek Trail was fairly boring. I suppose it's scenic, but it all looks the same after a while, and it's not anything better than what you'd see anywhere else in the park. Once we hit the Lower Talkington Trail, things improved. I spotted grouse tracks in the snow, and no sooner had I said something about it than eight grouse of one kind or another flew over the ridge to our left. We climbed a hill to the top of a plateau, which gave us our first expansive views of the surroundings after being in a valley the entire way. Eventually, the trail led us to a dried mud fortress of capstones and cracked dirt, topped off by a huge chunk of petrified wood. It's interesting to me to think that when that tree was alive 60 million years ago, the animals that lived in and around it would have been mostly unfamiliar to our modern eyes.
We stopped for lunch in a fairly scenic spot overlooking an expanse of badlands. It was utterly silent, except for one gust of wind that made the grass hiss. Four mule deer half a mile away trotted out of sight once they were aware of us. Farther down the trail, we encountered two or three golden eagles soaring overhead, a red-tailed hawk on the horizon calling "keeeeeer!" and two large mule deer bucks that bounded into the brush as we came around the corner. The broken, difficult terrain leveled out into a flat expanse on the Paddock Creek Trail. A falcon flew by at eye level. As we walked through the prairie dog towns, only a couple of their denizens greeted us with their barks; the rest remained unseen. A bull bison grazed far off the trail as we neared the end of the trip. Sore and relieved to be back, we collapsed into the car, mud drying on our jeans.
On Friday, I didn't even need to wear a jacket as we explored a few miles of the Maah Daah Hey Trail along the Little Missouri. I began to attempt to open up the wire fence to climb through at the beginning of the trail, broke part of the wire, then realized I had a key for the gate right next to the hole in the fence. A small group of horses was grazing on the floodplain across the river from us. A magpie in a juniper on top of a hill across the river from the Cottonwood Campground caught Amber's eye. We decided to climb the hill, which just allowed us to see how much more hill was behind it. The view from there was nice, though, with a small forest of junipers in the shade behind the hill and a sweeping view across the Little Missouri floodplain. We followed feral cat tracks down the heavily braided trail through the sagebrush back to the car. The mixture of melting snow and flour-like clay soil thickened to a sort of muddy pancake batter that clung relentlessly to our boots and pants.
Saturday, we attempted a more ambitious hike, a 12-mile loop from the Jones Creek Trail, connecting with the Lower Talkington Trail, then the Lower Paddock Creek Trail, then followed the road back to where we started. I say "ambitious" because there was utterly no one out there for miles and miles, and we passed not one human for the duration of the hike. Weather was still warm, but cloudy and threatening to sprinkle. As we started the walk, a group of about a dozen bison was feeding on a hillside near the trailhead. A few miles of braided trail after that, I looked ahead to see another 20 or so bison about a quarter mile ahead. I hoped that they weren't on the actual trail, but sure enough, one was standing right by the post. We walked closer, cautious now that we were on foot and approaching an entire herd of animals that any one of which could smash our heads.
This was a different situation for me, a herd of potentially deadly and unpredictable animals. From my prior luck with mountain goats becoming aggressive toward me, I wasn't too keen on pressing my luck. I wasn't scared or nervous, but cautious. Amber reached her comfort zone before I did. I approached the situation like I have other large mammals - I made my presence known before I suddenly appeared at close range. The group scampered upslope near the trail, but not far enough for me to feel safe continuing on the trail. I was just thinking about whether more bison might be in the creekbed out of sight and whether I wanted to start going that way when another group of a dozen bison came sprinting out of the gully and across the flat toward the rest of the group. They all stood there staring at us. We gracefully skirted across the dry creek that had cut down sharply and through the junipers to keep our distance. Back there, I found a juniper tree the bison had been essentially taking apart - branches were on the ground and chewed on. They continued staring. We got back to the trail after circling around and continued down the trail without incident.
To me, the Jones Creek Trail was fairly boring. I suppose it's scenic, but it all looks the same after a while, and it's not anything better than what you'd see anywhere else in the park. Once we hit the Lower Talkington Trail, things improved. I spotted grouse tracks in the snow, and no sooner had I said something about it than eight grouse of one kind or another flew over the ridge to our left. We climbed a hill to the top of a plateau, which gave us our first expansive views of the surroundings after being in a valley the entire way. Eventually, the trail led us to a dried mud fortress of capstones and cracked dirt, topped off by a huge chunk of petrified wood. It's interesting to me to think that when that tree was alive 60 million years ago, the animals that lived in and around it would have been mostly unfamiliar to our modern eyes.
We stopped for lunch in a fairly scenic spot overlooking an expanse of badlands. It was utterly silent, except for one gust of wind that made the grass hiss. Four mule deer half a mile away trotted out of sight once they were aware of us. Farther down the trail, we encountered two or three golden eagles soaring overhead, a red-tailed hawk on the horizon calling "keeeeeer!" and two large mule deer bucks that bounded into the brush as we came around the corner. The broken, difficult terrain leveled out into a flat expanse on the Paddock Creek Trail. A falcon flew by at eye level. As we walked through the prairie dog towns, only a couple of their denizens greeted us with their barks; the rest remained unseen. A bull bison grazed far off the trail as we neared the end of the trip. Sore and relieved to be back, we collapsed into the car, mud drying on our jeans.
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