On Saturday morning, I was sitting on the edge of an escarpment overlooking the river, meandering from the Rockies to the Arctic. By my side, Emma, a 10 year old Pyrenean Mountain Dog of impeccable character (see below). Me looking at the spectacular view. She sniffing the wind blowing in our faces.
When all at once, from behind us a Golden eagle shot over our heads, maybe 50 feet up.. Wings stiff as a board, surfing the wind. My eyes followed it as it moved up the wooded valley of a creek and then it diminished to a dot and was gone—to join the migration of Golden Eagles south along the Rockies.
Almost immediately a family of Canada geese got underway behind us, so low that we could see their faces and hear their wings press against the air, all the while constantly communicating by voice.
There has been much…
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