No Foxes, Just Deer

I had my camera this time, so I was really hoping to see my buddy, the Waterton fox. Alas, he didn't show up. But I was greeted by a rather nonchalant deer as I pulled into the parking lot before my run. He had those fuzzy-looking, chia-pet antlers. (I'm no expert on wildlife, but based on my experience, this condition arises when the animal leaves his antlers in the fridge next to the cheese that's been in there for too long.)

Seeing a beautiful deer like that is an excellent way to start the morning. He continued to graze as I went through my normal morning ritual of adjusting my hydration pack, tightening the laces on my shoes, and turning on my GPS watch. Once I had my gear all situated, I waved goodbye to Mr. Fuzzrack, and headed up the trail. I hadn't gone more than 100 yards when I had my next amazing wildlife encounter of the morning!
OK, I exaggerate. Seeing a bunny rabbit isn't exactly an unusual encounter. And it certainly isn't "amazing"...you practically step on these varmints without trying, they're so thick around here.

It is kinda weird, though, if you're up in the canyon early enough in the morning -- and you hear a rustling noise off the grass beside the road? Is it a puma? A cougar? Perhaps a mountain lion? Or is it a deer, bighorn sheep, or a ravenous pack of timber wolves? It can be a little freaky. But 9 times out of 10 it's either a rabbit or a squirrel, and the 10th time, it's a lark bunting.

OK, I may have my facts wrong on that one, too. I have no idea what a lark bunting looks like or sounds like. (I know what "Willie Tavaras bunting" is, but that's a different animal.) I suspect that despite its regal status as the Colorado State Bird, the lark bunting is every bit as mythical as the so-called "hummingbird" that people blame for those whirring noises overhead when there is nothing whatsoever to be seen. Oh sure, says I, there are "birds" that go so fast that they "hum" and can't be seen. Right. Pull the other one.

There are birds in the canyon, though, and some of them were kind enough to bask on a rock long enough to let me take a photo. One of them was stretching out his wings in some sort of dominance ritual, possibly meant to influence the female to mate with him. Either that or he was just airing out his armpits; it was a pretty warm morning.

But that was the extent of my wildlife sightings for the morning. It was rather nice to concentrate on nature and photo opportunities rather than worrying about my pace and stride. But I did want to get some mileage in, just to burn off the burritos I had eaten the night before. I wanted to get in at least a few miles, yet still leave myself enough time to get back to the pond in time to swim a lap with my friend Keith. I turned around at the 4-mile mark, for a total of 8. And then headed into Chatfield.

Keith was waiting for me when I arrived at the beach, already warmed up. By this time, the sun had gone behind the clouds and the wind had picked up, so I made the poor guy wait there for several minutes while I did my cold-water baptism ritual. It goes like this: I walk in to about ankle depth and sing one verse of "Taking Care of Business". Then I wade in until my knees are covered and pause while reciting a memorized paragraph from "On Walden Pond". Then I move forward until my chest is in the icy water and I stand there flapping my arms like Rip Taylor flinging confetti and shrieking like Dakota Fanning. After about two minutes of that, I'm fine.

Keith led the way at a good pace, and by the time we finished our one lap, I was feeling like I'd had a pretty good workout. But because there would be no swim practice on Sunday, I decided that I needed to go out again. The only other thing I will add to this narrative is simply this observation: Dude, if you're going to wear a black wetsuit, a black cap, and swim with an underwater recovery...you need to freakin' watch where you're going!

For those who wear bright caps and navigate well, though, I say -- Have a great day!