Good Day

Huffing and puffing and bitching at my bum leg that is taking way too long to mend (at least in my mind), I keep my chin tucked while marching up the mountain. Physical therapy at its best. Screw that room full of antiseptic stench and therapists who uncomfortably touch me. I can stretch what needs to be stretched and exercise what needs to be exercised without smelling mothballs, bad breath, sour feet and questioning the hygeine of who last sprawled on the equipment they ask me to lay across. Doc told me to let pain be my guide...so, bring it on!

As I trudge up the trail, my favorite playlist is thumping in my earbuds and an occasioanal misstep twists my healing foot enough to make me wince, but the same thing happens on my good leg, too. I keep on keeping on and while nearing the summit, movement above me on the ridgeline diverts my attention.

I freeze and am happily startled with wild turkey hens quietly sneaking away from me.  I switch from stomping Frankenstin mode to stealth mode and like a cat...okay, like a 3-legged crippled cat---with thorns stabbed into its feet, I make an effort to stalk them and end up counting 12, but something big grabs my attention from off to the side.

Initially unbeknownst to me, Mr. Tom Turkey was in the periphery and scuttled through the brush to catch up to his retreating harem.  His long beard dangled from his chest and he was nearly twice the size of the girls.  Like a predator, I stayed with the group. Feeling safe, Mr. Tom fluffed up and fanned out his tail like a peacock and strutted his stuff to impress the ladies and I was fortunate to take a picture. Although I hear Kansas wild turkeys will stop to stare at cars while getting run over, these mountain birds are cagey and I was blessed with the moment.

My gimp up the mountain was further rewarded with a mule deer standing in the sun.

Couldn't get a picture of the little fart--this is borrowed from internet.

As I closed in on Indian Mountain's summit, I watched a silver/gray Abert's squirrel lumber ahead of me on the forest floor appearing like a lost, oversized chinchilla. These goofy looking, tufted-earred squirrels inhabit Ponderosa pine trees but are frequently seen, albeit never in a hurry, scampering along the ground. Black seems more predominant along the front range of Colorado, and this gray one finally decided to shinny up a tree. While hanging on the opposite side of the tree playing peek-a-boo with me, my "spidey sense" told me we were being watched.

My near-sighted, tunnel vision on the squirrel's bobble head poking from side-to-side from behind the tree, I zoomed further out to focus on white bristled butt hair on motionless elk just up the slope from us. I could smell their musky odor and their body's were tense and in high alert of my intrusion, but they stood still as my trail angled away from them.  I love elk.  To me, they rate high on the list of being the most majestic creatures of the forest.

At the summit, my healing Achilles tendon was fussing like a colicky baby about the abuse and forced me to take a different route down.  It didn't matter, I passed my favorite tree and sat a spell and then dropped down off the mountain.

With the animals, the scenery, the communing with nature and daydreaming at my favorite tree, it was a good day!