In The Fir

February is the strangest of months. Some of the coldest weather to come in the winter rolls through during it, but at the same time the crisp, blue skies and sunshine that warms frozen cheeks is a welcome reprieve from a gloomy January. However, this means that as far as outdoors recreating goes, it has to be something active – I’m not about to become one giant icicle out on the lake, spending hours jigging for fish. I’ll save that dedication for once the weather warms up a touch. But after a good week of -30, the cabin fever was starting to set in.

 

Layered up to combat the fluctuating temperatures, I headed out for a hike through the fir hillsides in our backyard. The initial plan I had for exploring changed upon stumbling across a beaten path in the snow, a winter’s worth of hooves traversing the landscape. Initially, I was intrigued by the thought of discovering where the deer where headed; but I would be lying if the idea of following said beaten path was not the slightest bit more appealing than slogging through knee-deep snow further along in my trek.

The going was quick, and the path meandered through grassy meadows, across small draws, slipped down across a creek bed and a short scramble up into the fir-dotted hills. The trail split in several spots, but it always converged with itself farther along. I found myself surrounded by deer sign all around me – dozens of beds, not an inch of snow left undisturbed by their tracks, and plenty of wind fallen branches for feed. It was right around this time that I thought to myself, “I’m surprised that I haven’t spotted a single animal yet” when not one, not two, but over half a dozen deer went bouncing through the trees on the next ridge over.

 

Afternoon sun dropping lower in the sky by the minute, I made a mental note to return earlier during the day to spend some more time exploring without getting caught out in the dark – perhaps the next time there may even be a shed antler kicking around in the fir!