Sunday, December 31, 2006
Bluff Lake Winter Walk
I see it's been a while since I posted. Did I mention I moved to Denver?
I decided to get out for a walk today to keep from going stir crazy over the New Year holiday weekend. Going up into the mountains this weekend wasn't part of my plan because of all the snow we've had, but it probably would have worked OK because the weather has been sunny today and yesterday. I drove over to Bluff Lake Nature Preserve near where I live in Denver and was in awe of how beautiful it was there.
As I arrived in the early afternoon the entire snow-covered front range of the Rockies was spread out in front of me, with all of Denver in the foreground. The air was crisp and clear, and the sun cast dramatic shadows in the mountains. Longs Peak looked closer and taller than I'd ever seen before, and the Flatirons looked smaller than normal in comparison.
As I stood on the bluff overlooking the lake, enjoying the view, I called my mother to share it. As I spoke with her I noticed a tight formation of four F-16 jets buzzing downtown Denver--it must be the start of a Broncos game! I could hear the roar of their engines as they headed south in front of the mountains to return to the Air Force Academy, keeping their altitude nice and low the whole way.
I headed down the trail to the bottom of the bluff and around the wetlands, marveling at the serenity of the view of grasses and plants poking above the pristine surface of the snow and the shadows they cast on its surface. I looked back at the bluff and enjoyed the composition of the trees and snow drifts against the bluff, the pavilion atop it, and the near-full moon rising behind. Too bad I didn't bring a camera, I thought. The view was far too nice to spoil in an image on my crappy cell phone camera.
As I crunched along through the deep snow following snow shoe tracks, my eyes followed the tracks of various small animals and birds off to each side of the trail, some of them mysteriously disappearing at some point in the snow. A chipmunk and mynah bird were the only beings I saw making the tracks. Eventually I found tracks from the small resident mule deer herd and even found where they had bedded down along the trail, probably last night. But I couldn't see them anywhere. How do deer hide in plain sight like that?
At the far end of the park I turned back onto a snow covered trail so straight and flat it must have been an old road or railway. The trees arched over it framing a wonderful winter view. From the trail the sunlight reflected off the patterns in the ice of the small lake. For being so low the sun was surprisingly warm on my skin, and for a while I had to remove my jacket and fleece to keep from overheating despite the freezing temperature.
A small gaggle of geese flew across the face of the moon above Sand Creek to my left. The only intrusions of humanity to the solitude of the trail along the side of the wetlands were the jets climbing out from DIA (an intrusion I don't mind) and occasional sounds from the industrial area to the north across Sand Creek. Aside from the rustle of the wind through the trees and the crunch of the snow under my feet, the only other sounds were the occasional groups of geese flying overhead, constantly debating their formation and destination.
But the sun was descending rapidly and as I climbed the trail back up the bluff I enjoyed the shadow of a small tree stretching far across the smooth snow toward me from the glare of the bright sun behind it. At the top of the bluff I heard a loud honk across the creek, a pickup truck at a wastewater treatment plant trying to chase the geese away. The one loud honk erupted into hundreds of lesser honks and the beating of hundreds of wings as a huge cloud of geese rose into the sky above the plant.
They launched to the east and west up and down the creek, circled around to try and regroup. A small group landed in an open area of the creek and more landed in an open area of the nature preserve, the rest circling around and discussing the options. One group passed over the crowded landing area to circle around again and passed low over my head, then came around with their wings drooping with extreme anhedral as they sank down into their noisy, flapping spot landings.
I love watching geese fly. I love their close formations, high-speed cruising, short-field landings and take-offs, and water ski landings. Maybe I was a goose in a past life. Maybe I will be in the future. We'll see how this one goes . . . Hopefully I'll end up with enough karma to come back as a goose.
I decided to get out for a walk today to keep from going stir crazy over the New Year holiday weekend. Going up into the mountains this weekend wasn't part of my plan because of all the snow we've had, but it probably would have worked OK because the weather has been sunny today and yesterday. I drove over to Bluff Lake Nature Preserve near where I live in Denver and was in awe of how beautiful it was there.
As I arrived in the early afternoon the entire snow-covered front range of the Rockies was spread out in front of me, with all of Denver in the foreground. The air was crisp and clear, and the sun cast dramatic shadows in the mountains. Longs Peak looked closer and taller than I'd ever seen before, and the Flatirons looked smaller than normal in comparison.
As I stood on the bluff overlooking the lake, enjoying the view, I called my mother to share it. As I spoke with her I noticed a tight formation of four F-16 jets buzzing downtown Denver--it must be the start of a Broncos game! I could hear the roar of their engines as they headed south in front of the mountains to return to the Air Force Academy, keeping their altitude nice and low the whole way.
I headed down the trail to the bottom of the bluff and around the wetlands, marveling at the serenity of the view of grasses and plants poking above the pristine surface of the snow and the shadows they cast on its surface. I looked back at the bluff and enjoyed the composition of the trees and snow drifts against the bluff, the pavilion atop it, and the near-full moon rising behind. Too bad I didn't bring a camera, I thought. The view was far too nice to spoil in an image on my crappy cell phone camera.
As I crunched along through the deep snow following snow shoe tracks, my eyes followed the tracks of various small animals and birds off to each side of the trail, some of them mysteriously disappearing at some point in the snow. A chipmunk and mynah bird were the only beings I saw making the tracks. Eventually I found tracks from the small resident mule deer herd and even found where they had bedded down along the trail, probably last night. But I couldn't see them anywhere. How do deer hide in plain sight like that?
At the far end of the park I turned back onto a snow covered trail so straight and flat it must have been an old road or railway. The trees arched over it framing a wonderful winter view. From the trail the sunlight reflected off the patterns in the ice of the small lake. For being so low the sun was surprisingly warm on my skin, and for a while I had to remove my jacket and fleece to keep from overheating despite the freezing temperature.
A small gaggle of geese flew across the face of the moon above Sand Creek to my left. The only intrusions of humanity to the solitude of the trail along the side of the wetlands were the jets climbing out from DIA (an intrusion I don't mind) and occasional sounds from the industrial area to the north across Sand Creek. Aside from the rustle of the wind through the trees and the crunch of the snow under my feet, the only other sounds were the occasional groups of geese flying overhead, constantly debating their formation and destination.
But the sun was descending rapidly and as I climbed the trail back up the bluff I enjoyed the shadow of a small tree stretching far across the smooth snow toward me from the glare of the bright sun behind it. At the top of the bluff I heard a loud honk across the creek, a pickup truck at a wastewater treatment plant trying to chase the geese away. The one loud honk erupted into hundreds of lesser honks and the beating of hundreds of wings as a huge cloud of geese rose into the sky above the plant.
They launched to the east and west up and down the creek, circled around to try and regroup. A small group landed in an open area of the creek and more landed in an open area of the nature preserve, the rest circling around and discussing the options. One group passed over the crowded landing area to circle around again and passed low over my head, then came around with their wings drooping with extreme anhedral as they sank down into their noisy, flapping spot landings.
I love watching geese fly. I love their close formations, high-speed cruising, short-field landings and take-offs, and water ski landings. Maybe I was a goose in a past life. Maybe I will be in the future. We'll see how this one goes . . . Hopefully I'll end up with enough karma to come back as a goose.
Comments:
So want to be a goose, eh?
Well I think that you can't come back as one because you sure don't have a bird brain and I don't think you would want one either.
That was a trully beautiful description of the Bluff Lake area. I'm so impressed with your ability to document a place in your head and then retrieve that information a while later. So perhaps I was wrong in my opening statement. Perhaps you are very much like a bird because they too retain information such as migration patterns. And don't some birds also mate for life, that's a good quality :)
Thanks for sharing your thoughts and imagery.
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Well I think that you can't come back as one because you sure don't have a bird brain and I don't think you would want one either.
That was a trully beautiful description of the Bluff Lake area. I'm so impressed with your ability to document a place in your head and then retrieve that information a while later. So perhaps I was wrong in my opening statement. Perhaps you are very much like a bird because they too retain information such as migration patterns. And don't some birds also mate for life, that's a good quality :)
Thanks for sharing your thoughts and imagery.
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