Melvin in Paints

By now he is probably quite plump in preparation for his long winter's hibernation. I guess he would be quite surprised to find himself the subject of a painting (although I think my talents might have already peaked on the pronghorns). Poor Melvin looks more like a groundhog. Mind you, groundhogs can be pretty cute themselves. Have you seen the movie "Groundhog Day"? I find it hilarious, with the notable exception of Andie McDowell who can't act, speaks with a grating accent, and just generally irritates me.
To be fair (to myself, not Andie McDowell), the genus of the groundhog is "marmota", so I shouldn't feel too far off the mark. I guess the biggest difference between the two species is that there's no way a guy like Melvin (or his pals Barney and Mildred) will stick his nose out of his burrow anytime in February. That would just be ridiculous, when the snow isn't going anywhere until June.



I used to see groundhogs sometimes along the Rappahannock in Virginia, and I knew that they were also called woodchucks (as in how much wood could a woodchuck chuck?), but I recently learned that they are also called land beavers and whistlepigs in some parts of the country. I guess we could just lump them all in as ground squirrels and be done with it, but when I think of ground squirrels, I picture the much smaller variety.

Marmots are simple creatures who don't hold with having lots of nicknames. They are only called marmots. These guys are all yellow-bellied marmots. Hoary marmots also live in the U.S., but further north (I've seen them in Montana and Washington State).

By the way, you won't have met Mildred yet, so I've attached her photograph.

Tiptoe Through the Toadstools

Look at these great mountain mushrooms! The recent rains have caused them to spring forth in their poisonous glory with their warning colors of red and orange and their odd little bumps signifying rough times ahead for those foolish enough to bite in.

Not all mushrooms are poisonous, though, as shown by all the nibble marks I found in the less alarmingly-colored ones. I caught a squirrel enjoying his (her? I didn't ask) mushroom feast, and I found pocket gopher teeth marks in another place. I have become determined to hike the woods as a naturalist and wildlife tracker, so I spend a lot of time looking for signs of animals. Evidence of chewing is quite fun to find, not in the least because I can cry out, "Nibbles!". I also look at foot prints and scat (not as gross as it sounds, really). I saw a lynx print once, which was pretty cool.

The white mushrooms in my fridge look tame and boring by comparison. I had a pizza in Boulder on Saturday that had some pretty good mushrooms on it (thanks, old roomie). I also like Portabella mushroom sandwiches.

Curious Sights

I'm taking a break from the job search (yuck, yuck and more yuck) to think happy thoughts. What better way to cheer myself up than to review some of the interesting things I have seen and photographed in the last month or so? I'll try to write about something other than moose...
The National Parks provided some of the most fascinating parts of my summer. Besides my favorite alpine peaks, I've seen an amazing variety of landscapes in very short distances. Yellowstone provided the eerie scene of the first photo, which my sister-in-law described as an image fitting an album cover--probably alternative rock, I would think. 

The second photo is one of many natural arches from Arches National Park. Very hot and desert-like, it was worth braving the elements to hike to some of the more remote areas and see the beautiful power of erosion. 


Even more than the fabulous scenery, wildlife provided lots of viewing entertainment this summer. Never before have I experienced such an enjoyable traffic jam as the one caused by a giant bison in Yellowstone. I had such admiration for the massive beast; he felt like walking in the road, so no pesty cars were going to stop him. 

As he passed by my window, so close that I could have reached out and tugged his beard (goatee? buffalee?), his big, brown eye met mine for a second or two. I was certainly intimidated, and proud of the big guy for doing what he darn well pleased.
The man in the car behind him was filming with his camcorder the entire time. I bet his family is going to love watching his home videos. While seeing the bison in person was definitely an interesting experience, I can't imaging anyone enjoying ten minutes of footage of a buffalo rear end.

Other very fun animals include the fuzzy marmots, who live at or above the treeline in boulder-strewn meadows. They seem full of personality and are often more curious than frightened of passing hikers. This photogenic guy seemed like a grumpy old codger who did not want to have to bother moving off the trail, just because I happened to be coming up it (kind of like the stubborn bison in the end, and I do admire stubborn tenacity). I named him Melvin, because I thought it kind of fit.

Aside from the natural world, I've also seen some unique features in the human landscape. Seattle provided the first Lenin statue I've seen since Moscow, and I found the juxstiposition with the taco shop more than a little humerous. You don't have to even leave Wyoming, however, to find odd monuments. A short distance outside Laramie, a massive Mayan-inspired pyramid towers above the sagebrush, honoring some railroad pioneers (whose family apparently had a lot of money and pride).

I thought it best to capture some of these unique and memorable sights before the snows start to fly and everything just becomes blobs of white.

Maybe the winter won't be that bad, but I'm not taking any chances.

More Moose

I am astonished by the power of my blog. Not only have I been getting crazy comments about my paintings, but the moose have also responded to my emotional outcries. Not two days after seeing the mom and son combo up in the Snowy Range, I went backpacking in Rocky Mountain National Park and saw a young bull moose just off the trail. I now have proof of Colorado moose as well as Wyoming ones.
The last trip of the summer was a good one. Most agreeably, I did not encounter a single person on the trail the first day (excepting my excellent hiking companion). About six miles into the wilderness, I suddenly saw four brown legs on the hillside in front of me. A few steps further revealed a moosey face--staring at me, of course. I don't think it would be easy to sneak up on many woodland creatures.
Our remote campsite perch near a picturesque lake afforded excellent views of the Rocky peaks. After setting up camp, I climbed up above the tree line and discovered a large herd of elk settling in to a sheltered valley for the night. I was too high above them to cause them any alarm.
Though the night brought some scary lightning when protected by only a thin layer of synthentic material, the moon was luminous and the breeze brought the freshest air imaginable. Okay, the ground was cold and my freeze-dried dinner left a lot to be desired, but that only made my next morning's hot chocolate that much more enjoyable. Three mule deer watched us from a meadow as we strode by on the hike out, and the afternoon rain held off until we reached the shelter of the car nine miles or so later. It was a short but lovely last hurrah in a wonderful summer of freedom.
So, as a thank you to the obliging moose, I have attached my most recent moose painting and a photo of my polite forest friend.

Moose Myth Debunked!

Here I've been grousing all summer about the elusive Wyoming moose, and all I had to do to make them appear was to express my anger in writing. Moose used to be all over the place in Alaska, hanging around the house, chewing up trees, waving their antlers in greeting, and I missed seeing their cute, long faces. I kept reading about their presence in Wyoming, but it all seemed like a big legend (oh yeah, Bigfoot and Nessie probably live here, too, right?). So I blogged yesterday that I would refuse to paint them until they revealed themselves.
This morning I decided to go for a short hike in the mountains. The drive took about 45 minutes, during which I saw herds of prongs (and cattle, naturally) and numerous soaring hawks and crows. I looked for moose in moose-probable spots (meadows, marshes), but half-heartedly because I had given up hope of finding any. The hike started out pleasantly, with a hint of fall in the cool breeze. About a mile and a half in, I came across a sheltered meadow with a little stream. As I passed--to my utter surprise--I found a female moose staring at me. After snapping a few photos, I moved up the trail to allow her to get back to her lunch, and what did I see but another moose further up the meadow! This young bull had small nubs of antlers just starting to grow. He must have been a teenager who was still allowed to tag along with mom. He stared at me, too, until I continued up the trail.
Unfortunately for the grazing creatures, the trail crossed the stream and looped back on the other side of the meadow. It probably appeared to them that I was circling in for the kill, when I really just wanted to say hello. I wouldn't have turned down a hug and maybe a tug on a dewlap for luck, but I considering that they might have wanted to trample me in return, I kept my distance. They trotted the other direction and were soon hidden in the woods.
I guess I'd better get my paints out.

Picturesque Paintings of Prongs

I spent my Sunday afternoon painting the above picture, which was both fun and frustrating. I've been seeing lots of wildlife art recently, and I got tired of wondering whether I could possibly paint pretty pictures, too. So I tried some watercolors, because I had some lying around and they seemed a straightforward place to start with no training.

I painted with an old kiddie set of watercolors and some ancient brushes I've been hauling around since elementary school (when I used to actually think I could be an artist). I even dug out my old easel, which my parents bought me for Christmas one year when I kept watching Bob Ross and his happy little trees on PBS. It's amazing that I even held on to all of these old art supplies with all the moving I've been doing, but I guess I always hoped I'd have a chance to play around with them again. (Have I mentioned how great my summer has been?)

I'm going to go ahead and blame the poor paints for my pictures' lack of perfection. After painting these and a few other random animals (like a puma), I decided that I found this hobby interesting enough to go out and buy a small set of proper paints and some watercolor brushes--a profound difference!
I figured that pronghorn antelopes deserved to be my first subject of focus because they are the most unique species near my new home. Pronghorns are actually so unique they have their own genus as well (they are the only animals in existence that shed a branched horn on a yearly basis...). They are also the most willing to be seen when I am in the mood to view wildlife (which is pretty much anytime). My other favorite western animals are moose and mountain goats. I chose not to focus on moose, though, because I am currently angry with them. They refuse to show themselves even though I spend a good amount of time in the wilderness, and I am starting to feel that their presence in Wyoming is merely a myth.
Mountain goat painting will be a huge challenge because of their solid white coats. I may have to paint some that have just rolled in the mud. Otherwise I imagine it will look something like that old joke of a polar bear in a snowstorm.

I decided to post the progress of my painting, since I haven't come up with any exciting blog topics. Please have patience with my pathetic pictures (available for purchase for the proper price...).

I Dream of Jabba

Okay, so I've been slacking on the blog. I've been slacking on just about everything lately, and it feels good. My loyal readers have requested a new posting, however, so I must oblige, however much I'd rather pull up a bowl of chocolate ice cream and reread the entire Harry Potter series.

Okay, so I've already reread the first book. What was I supposed to do? I finished the last installment in two days and, while quite satisfied with the resolution (no spoilers here...my two most loyal blog readers still need to read book 6), I felt a bit deflated to no longer have a new novel to look forward to. I went to the library, desperately searching for a bit of inventive fiction that would draw me in, but no such luck. So, August will probably find me diving once more into the wizard world, savoring Rowling's wonderful detail and searching for hidden clues predicting the ending.

That's not to say that my visit to the library was unfruitful. I have been reading all sorts of fascinating non-fiction, based manly in Biology. I'm in the middle of a book explaining how various wild animals survive the winter. (I'm looking for hints for myself, too, besides wearing three pairs of socks and stocking up on hot chocolate.) I checked out an interesting-looking book on the search for grizzlies in the Colorado Rockies, thinking I might like to join in.

I also recently finished a book on the strange phenomena of the mind which set me on a new path: I've started keeping a dream notebook. I began recording my dreams a few weeks ago, mainly out of curiosity. Writing any memories or images you have in your mind right after you wake up helps you to remember your dreams more clearly so that you can look for patterns and try to figure them out.

So far I've discovered that I dream very vividly almost every night, sometime remembering as many as six or seven different scenes. Occasionally, I will wake up feeling that I didn't really rest because my mind kept me busy all night. Sometimes I can tell exactly what real-life conversation, situation or daily event my dreams are reflecting. Some dreams, for example, have incorporated my recent free time spent reading. I dreamed that one of my sweet little kitties had bitten great big chunks out of the thick cover of my mom's library book. Another time I was in my college music class reading a book about animals when the professor came over and I covered the book and tried to distract him with the bald lie, "I love learning about the lives of composers. It's so interesting."

Often in my dreams I am confused or annoyed. Or both. People get in my way. Heavy doors don't have handles. Former coworkers or strangers try to get me to do their work. Signs or clocks are difficult to decipher. People get my name wrong.

Some dreams have nightmarish qualities of injured or dead pets, scary men, car chases and plane crashes. I try not to remember these dreams too clearly.

Mostly, though, my dreams are weird enough to make me think I'm more than just a little fizzy in the head.

I dreamed I drove my car into a Texas post office (the door was open and somehow wide enough) and the floor was covered in vomit. Piles of it, all over the place. When the postman came back from lunch he didn't seem to notice anything strange, but just said that there was no mail for me.

I dreamed Jabba the Hutt captured me, but I tricked him into being angry at one of his lackeys instead, who he proceeded to gobble in one gulp while I escaped.

I dreamed that people I knew a long, long time ago (but in this galaxy) were running up and down dorm room halls wearing as many Elizabethan collars as they could around their necks and waists. (Not lacy Shakespeare ones, but the stiff plastic cones you put on dogs to keep them from licking their sutures.) They put some on me, too, and I laughed for a minute but then sneakily stashed them in someone else's room.

I dreamed my main man was eating tortilla chips but running each one through a credit card scanner first because he said it made them taste better.

I can't even begin to explain that one.