I always wonder how each trip will be, and this first day had an auspicious beginning. We stopped at Nature Trail to glass the Blacktail and spotted a black wolf traveling across the flats. We’ve had so much trouble seeing wolves on the Blacktail the past few visits, the distance too far out.
This spring in Yellowstone is grey and wet and quiet. Swan Lake is still almost completely covered by a layer of ice. The flats are lush and green while Electric Peak is capped with snow.
The black bear is in the wooded area at the base of the ridge. Her cinnamon colored cub of the year bounces on and around her, bursting with energy. He swats at her and she swats back. They roll and tumble over grass and twigs. The cub climbs on a long grey log lying in the deadwood, broken branches jutting out every which way. He bites the branches and rolls off the log, only to climb up again and run along its length. He falls off and runs to his mother, jumping up on hind legs and trying to climb on top of her.
A squirrel invaded our owl box in early January. When we didn’t see the owl for a few days at the end of December, we wondered if he had left the box for a few days, as is normal screech owl behavior. And then a squirrel popped its little head out of the box opening.
The owl pokes his head out of the box each evening around 5, sometimes earlier. He arrived later this year, on November 17, assuming it’s the same screech owl.
As Yellowstone slowly drifts towards autumn, the last days of summer are just beginning to show signs of transformation. Young aspens hint at fiery yellow. Willows blend red, orange and gold. The cottonwoods along Lamar River still hold their green leaves as the grass in the valley fades to brown. Each day more changes appear. By the end of the week snow will dust the mountain tops, and hillsides will become a collage of color.
Our tour began in Galway where we were picked up by our host, Cait, and driven to Moycullen and Curra Farm where we spent the first three nights of our trip. The stone farmhouse is nestled along the shore of Lough Corrib, the largest lake in the Republic of Ireland and bordered by forest and pastures.
Last week’s snow has almost melted. The 2-6 inches that closed I-90 and roads in Yellowstone is now patches of snow and dustings of white on mountains. In some places, like the mountains across from the cabin, a layer of white blankets the peaks, shining in the morning sun and glowing mysteriously in moonlight.
Winter’s chill is back and the owl is back in the box after a week of seasonally warm weather and a torrential rain storm. The owl fidgets in a corner, pokes its beak into the shavings looking for food.
The owl was not in the box today. A sudden panic sets in – has he left? Yesterday an owl was in the box, tearing at some piece of food, probably a bird. This alone was new behavior; until now, the owl has sat in the box contentedly without bringing any prey in, and it seemed possible this was a different owl, perhaps the female?
