Wyoming Winter

The early morning fog was lifting, gently as a soft curtain slowly opening onto a stage, revealing a winter wonderland. The fading moonlight illuminated the white landscape. As if on cue two female mule deer appeared, their giant pointed ears were focused on the area like two antennas, ever searching for danger. Their size startled me as I mentally compared them to the dainty white-tailed deer of the central Texas Hill Country that I knew. I watched from the bedroom window without moving, lest the slightest creak of the wooden floor would startle them. A third doe appeared, and the three continued on their journey as quietly as they had come.

I was in Wyoming at last, in our remote cabin that backs up to a thickly wooded area of aspen, cedar, chokecherry, currant bushes, and other shrubs. Behind them was a small stand of Douglas fir, limber pine, and lodgepole pine. Through the many years, we have returned to Wyoming, I especially appreciated the natural cover this haven has provided for wildlife. As I looked out on it that early morning, I prayed, “Thank you, God, for this little bit of Heaven you have lent me.” I vowed to keep it wild.

Distant peaks were ablaze with afterglow, but barely a trace of the sun shown here, with only a hint of dawn still to come. My thoughts returned to previous winters when fresh soft snow covered everything, and footprints were easy to spot. However, this snow, so firmly frozen, barely revealed signs of any animal. Even so, large animals can easily break through the snow’s hard crust, while small creatures such as snowshoe hares, weasels, mice, porcupine marmots, leave few prints as they scurry toward their destinations. I knew in my heart they were out there, struggling to find food which nature generally provides, though many small animals store away food during the summer to prepare for sparse winter feeding.

The thermometer outside our window showed -8 degrees. COLD! This morning I was eager to experience the early dawn, to taste and feel it. Hastily I dressed, donned my parka, gloves, and my old woolen cap. I opened the door and stepped into the Wyoming winter in the early dawn in all its virgin beauty. I thrilled to the sound of hard frozen snow crunching under my boots. I breathed deeply and searched for the fresh smell of winter. I felt the hairs in my nostrils freezing. When I exhaled, my breath seemed to turn into tiny ice crystals. I pulled my cap down to my eyebrows and my collar up high around my neck. Although the dry cold of Wyoming is kinder than the damp cold of northeastern climates, I was beginning to shiver, which reminded me to keep moving.

When the plane arrived the previous day, the bright Wyoming sun greeted me from a clear blue sky and sent a message of warmth. There was little hint of the icy cold soon to descend with winter’s early sunset as it disappeared behind the mountains. The flight from Texas to Wyoming over the Rocky Mountain Ranges was beautiful. We flew over New Mexico’s mountains, then the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, and finally Wyoming’s Northern Rockies. These include the Wind River Range with its incredible glaciers and peaks, the snow-covered Gros Venture Mountains, and lastly the magnificent Grand Tetons. As the plane rolled to a stop at the only airport within a national park, excitement and anticipation were foremost in the minds of skiers and tourists aboard. “Oohs” and “Aahs” were heard among the passengers as they pressed their faces against the windows to witness the beauty of the most spectacular mountain range in the country.

This early morning, I especially appreciated the silence and serenity of the moment by having been separated, but briefly, from urban civilization. Silence surrounded me. The only sound came from my boots on the frozen snow. I made my way to a nearby fir tree with damaged and missing bark. A pine tree next to it revealed signs of its bark having been gouged into long dark streaks, possibly by a small beer or porcupine. The sap had seeped out and frozen into tiny golden balls as it dripped down the tree. An aspen’s beautiful white bark was also damaged and marked with strange, pointed patterns which I recognized as having been done by deer or elk antlers as the animal tried to rub off the velvet which covers new antlers.

Nearly four feet of snow covered most everything except the tallest bushes, mainly chokecherry and service berries that are abundant in the area. Animals in search of food had eaten most of those branches they could reach, or which still protruded from the snow. Willow, a popular food for moose, grows in a low moist area behind the cabin, had been unmercifully eaten. Wyoming winters are especially hard on animals, for food is scarce. As a rule only the hardiest survive. This is nature’s way of thinning the herd.