MIGHTY MOUSE

Snow finally fell, and a good amount! It came silently in the night around eight and didn't let up until the following afternoon around four. Pushing the front door open was met with stiff resistance where an abundant amount of snow had accumulated on the deck. First actions were to make a pathway to the river so fishing could resume and instead of snow boots, hip waders were more appropriate. I had three shovels handy to help dig my pathways to the end of the cabin, the thermometer on a pole just outside my window and eventually paths would be cleared to the sauna, wood shed and the shops where the snow mobiles are sitting. It was an adventure grooming the trails of sixteen inches of powder with a snow mobile that seems to have a mind of its own. Either too much gas or way too much gas are the options and either one I choose seems to end up with near roll overs, going into the river or in most cases into a solid object like trees.

I managed to get the machine stuck a few times, but accomplished the packing down of trails.

I have made a small adjustment to my bathing routine, now its only on Friday's, possibly even every ten days. The other days, Monday and Wednesday I use my newly formed outdoor showering facility with five gallons of warm water, a rag and a cut open used salsa container for pouring. Its quite cold, even with the sides to shield the wind, and the bathing time is next to lightning speed, as soon as the shampoo and soap is gone, I pour the remainder over my head, shake off like a mangy dog and run for the warm cabin to defrost the ice that formed on the strands of my hair. Its been single digits at about eleven in the morning and the highest I've seen with full sunshine was twenty eight before it plunges back down in a matter of  minutes.
I decided that the hassle of gathering water for the sauna in all this snow, putting on more clothes, boots and snow shoes just to go take them off and get clean, then put them all back on to return is a hassle that only needs to be done three or four times a month. I was out snowshoeing today and pulling a sled up the hills around camp, gathering firewood and exchanging propane bottles. Your heart races, breathing begins to hurt a little and the inhaling of air through my mouth numbs the teeth from how cold it is. Its the feeling of drinking ice water, straining it through your teeth before you swallow. None the less, the walk in the clumsy, oversized clown shoes seem to work and I only sink about six inches instead of fourteen.

A new moon rises each evening, just before sunset which for me seems to be around 5:45. I have not switched over to the daylight savings time, so I go off of the PST. There is really no reason to change, and for one possible chance I get to not obey the times of this world, I can and it makes absolutely no difference. Time doesn't really mean too much to me, the days are already extremely short, hunger kicks in at all hours, so I just eat, or sleep or fish whenever I feel like doing so, there is no schedule to keep.

This morning was extremely lively for things out here, the echo's don't sound so loud, dampened by the blanket of snow, leaving the rapids down stream of the cabin the only constant noise to be heard. This morning there were several different noises, a couple dozen Spruce Hens came flying in from across the river, flying low to the water and making the distinct buzz of wings that these chicken like birds make. Several landed in front of the cabin, others on my boat, most on the waters edge pecking away at any available food source, but two or three rogue birds made me jump when they seemingly crashed onto the roof of the cabin, clamoring and scratching, trying to get a grip on the slippery metal surface. It was the most startling sound heard yet. I didn't shoot any, there are several in the freezer that need to be eaten first. However the fingers were itching, half to pull the trigger and the other half to spill blood and feel the warmth of fresh meat in the hands. I settled on two trout later that afternoon to fuel the harvesting instinct. There were other noises this morning that extended into the evening, which is a sign that the scenery is going to change very soon. Large, small, river width and plywood sized sheets of ice drifting past, crashing into birch tree branches that loom over the river, dipping their ends under the surface, and also the rocks that now show themselves and their wounds given to them by poor riverboat captains that had misjudged their shapes or depth in seasons past. I too have been one of those captains, and there have been a few dings and dents that are attributed to my miscalculations. The ice had come from my side of the lake, in the protected shallows where no breeze could disturb the formation of these once silent, now noise making frozen waters. And still there are more noises, the scratching, the biting, the crawling and the noise of ruin as shrew's climb and menace me in the night. I listened carefully as one was chewing on a bag of chocolate chips in the bathroom area, converted to refrigerator. I grabbed a flashlight, put on a glove and flung open the door, only to find no sign.... until the light caught his beady eyes staring at me, shivering in fright as my hand drew closer to grab him. Being blinded by a spotlight would throw off the concentration of my attack, or you might think it would but as I went for him, he sprouted wings and flew off the vanity, landing on the floor and surviving another day. Since then, we play a little game. I try to fall asleep faster than they can come out to make noise and keep me awake. I haven't won yet. However I have fashioned a trap, that hasn't worked yet but I keep the hope alive that death will be produced. We'll see.

Thanksgiving is coming soon, and my meal preparations need to be thought out, the menu, the timing of it all and the company that will show up unexpectedly. The fox has not been seen since the fall of the snow, when he was spotted bounding up and almost vanishing before springing up and then back down. I don't think he likes the winter time. Picasso has been in hiding as well or eaten, I'm not sure. I will keep a plate for either or both that arrive, and any others that care to join, I think I have a little of something for every animal, meat eater or plant. The sunrises have been very beautiful, the sunsets have been as well, and the days have been blue skies and sunshine. Although the warmth is not felt on the skin, the warmth is felt deeper within. I miss the sunshine quite a bit, almost enough to be thinking about my post Alaska trip to a tropical destination.