by Nona Estrin
Today the snow finally collapsed sufficiently to hold a skier and out I went, visiting places I haven’t been able to get to all winter. Tracks on a big field led me to a freshly dug-out skunk den, the dirt and snow plug lying next to it. Further on, in a hedgerow, a coyote track led to another open den. I looked from a distance and moved on. Most intriguing were the small vole holes, newly cleared and opened. Had they come out for a breath of spring air? To attend to courtship? Or were these ventilation shafts? I may never know, but what price an hour of daydreaming on skis, the sun blazing?
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