The times they are 'changin'

After days of low overcast and long periods of rainfall, the clouds have finally lifted revealing a snow line well down the mountain from where it was the last time it could be seen only days before.

Patches of wispy snow fill the hollows at the base of the mountain on its north side, the residue from whatever fell during the night. Transparent pans of thin ice that broke away from shore float down the river. More snow clings in larger amounts to the gravel and silt along the bank where it is still in the shadow of the mountain.

Across the river two moose stand at the water's edge looking and listening nervously, being much more exposed than they are comfortable with and a long way from the safety of the forest behind them. Occasionally one or the other dips its head to take a drink from the water flowing past.

A little farther along the bald eagle glares out over the water from its perch in a huge cottonwood tree where it has returned to take up its winter residence.

Overhead a raven flaps by. On a quiet day you can actually hear their wings as they beat the air. A black bird in winter without the usual camouflage most animals require. This apparently serves two purposes. For one the dark color absorbs what warmth the sun rations out and second the story goes they taste or smell so bad to predators that they are left alone. You seldom see ravens and gulls in the same place. Crows yes, but not ravens. I used to figure they were the same bird, wearing white in summer to reflect the heat of the sun and then black in winter to absorb it. Of course like the society matron, what fashionable bird would wear white after labor day anyway?

Winter has begun to slip its silent shroud over the country.