Today's Post was supposed to be about the visit son Ben and I enjoyed at the IMS motorcycle event in Minneapolis yesterday but that was trumped by my time on the couch this morning.
That time was so very fine so as a result, a motorcycle themed post will have to wait until mid-week. No photos today (sorry Bob).
I slept in this morning until a very late 5:30AM. The house was quiet, 3 of our 4 kids are home (the Marine FINALly here) they and Mrs. C still asleep after a late evening of movie watching, the moonlight outside brilliant and my pot of fresh hot coffee brewed quickly.
Our house and farm buildings nestle against the base of the hill behind and our large windows on 3 sides at the rear of the house face a lot of (now) very wintry landscape. I found the nicest end of the sofa, grabbed my Kindle Fire, plugged the headphones in and thanks to TuneIn, began listening to "The Weekend" on CBC out of Winnipeg. I learned that Winnipeg was -10, Flin Flon was -20 and Thompson was -30 pre-dawn this morning. The Canadians really DO seem to have those decimal metric system numbers nailed down, the rule of 10's seeming especially easy.
As I warmed my hands on the too-hot-to-drink coffee cup, my lap hosted 1 1/2 cats and news from the north started streaming through my headphones. As my eyelids may have or may not have been completely open, I suddenly noticed what appeared to be a bit of movement in the moonlight up on the old hillroad. Not more than 20 yards, ~20 meters beyond the garden, there was a brown, horizontal 'something' that seemed to have moved. The key words here are "horizontal", "moved" and "brown". Looking into the woods behind the house, in the dim light most brown somethings are vertical and ANYthing horizontal should have been white after Friday night's new 4" of fresh snow.
There was a deer sleeping up against the slope and the only brown that wasn't horizontal were two very tiny eartips that poked above. For the longest time, there was no more movement. As the sky got bright pink in the East, the head poked up and I could detect some very busy ears, focusing on the quiet stillness outside, quiet to me at least. I heard nothing from my comfortable perch but what I then knew to be a doe out there in the snow was picking up signals, or thought she was. I heard a sound in the bedroom and one of the showers start to flow. Those signals weren't missed, the ears got wide and turned ahead towards the house. A few short minutes later, the ears went back, the head went down and then only the tips were visible again above her body as the sky brightened and her form became more pronounced.
With the attention I was affording the doe, I then noticed that further up the hillroad, another horizontal chunk of brown was stirring and no longer completely still. It was getting easier and easier to see the trail of tracks connecting both resting deer; the path of prints following the least resistant line between the two.
The 7:30 Manitoba and National news complete, an interview was held with the artist that this week would be performing Leonard Cohen songs in Winnipeg. The interview complete, our radio host played The Good Lovelies' version of Cohen's "Hallelujah" and for a bit my eyes were forced to close, my breathing slowed. At 7:47, most of the big sun popped over the Wisconsin bluffs across the river and flooded me as well as the deep snow around the snoozing doe; the mix of blue/white snow and orange more colorful than most would imagine a snowy landscape could possibly be. It was just after 8 when her head came up and while I watched that lovely face and the twitching ears connecting to sounds I noticed a tongue come out and little puffs of snow were witness to the doe gathering some available moisture, or so I guessed.
By 8:20, the doe did her impression of a camel, stretching her back and shaking off the frozen snow from her thick body. After some licking of the ice crystals from her rear haunches, her head went down and the wandering for some browse began.
Do early Sunday mornings get any better?