spit

by underswansea

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Went moving slow through the bush. Lisa was careful of potholes. It’s still early for orchids. Rain in the valley bottom, snow up high. Saw our first Varied Thrush, but couldn’t get a picture. They can be in flocks at this time of year. This was a loner. Low clouds pulled tight against the ridges. The spruce tried in vain to pierce through reaching for the blue. Sometimes it can’t be helped or denied. A few Ruffed Grouse here and there turning their mohawks to the spit.

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Walking was just as slow. Tough times as if there was any other kind. Heard something parallel the trail. The hounds are old so don’t pick up as quick. Lots of wolf sign, could have been a moose. The bears are still well hid. I ducked and cocked, tilted my head but it refused to be seen. The high country is cut off by deep snow.

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I would defy it when I was younger, but younger seems a long ways off now. Never used to think twice. But it hurts my soul sometimes. That’s the way it is and I’m no different. Back down I fumbled with the camera while an Osprey stayed still. Right after, it flew without consideration. Even walking bent sometimes you get lucky.

 

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Varied Thrush from a few years previous

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