The television was spewing hateful political ads and bad news when Steve turned it on this morning. I wasn’t long in turning it off. Facebook wasn’t much better. I’m sick to death of all this trash talk. It seems like there’s no getting away from hate and discontent in today’s connected world, and Tuesday can’t be behind us soon enough. I got dressed and headed to the place I go to escape ugliness: Outdoors.

Sunrise on Democrat Ridge

I stood in eight inches of snow on Democrat Ridge at sunrise this morning. Earlier, sometime after the snow stopped and before we were there, deer hugged the brush line along the side of the road so tightly that I didn’t notice their tracks. Steve pointed them out to me. I thought they were marks made by snow falling off the brush. A doe and lamb had walked out of the evergreens, crossed the road, followed the edge for a bit, then disappeared into the woods. It was peaceful. Even the red squirrels were quiet. Juncos picked at weed seeds, tugging at them until the seeds broke free or the weeds bent to the snow, unwilling to give up their seeds just yet.

Looking out from the top of Democrat Ridge

Down the ridge, a moose crossed the road just as the deer had, coming out of the evergreens on one side and disappearing into them on the other.

“No coyote tracks,” Steve commented. We’re having a coyote problem. One large, persistent coyote tries to get into the hen house at night. It scratches at the door and circles the building over and over almost every night. The ducks fuss, waking me up off and on all night. It stayed away during the two nights it snow, and for a change, I slept well. Steve made arrangements with a local trapper.

No coyote tracks on Democrat Ridge this morning, and not much for deer and moose tracks, but you know what there is a lot of up there at sunrise? Beauty. It is beautiful up there.

We needed to get to work so we left after sunrise. I have a bit of freelance work to finish up this afternoon before I put on my snowshoes, load my Browning .308 and follow a road into the woods. My first buck is out there somewhere.