The Beginning of Winter (10.29.07)

I took a quick, 15 mile jaunt through the forests of the Clearwater National Forest two weeks ago, trying to get one more 'easy access trip' to the high country before snow closes all of the access roads.

It was a very still hike.

I bushwhacked off trail two times: once to Marion Meadows, and another time to an elongated, mile long stretch of meadows called Sneakfoot Meadows. I anticipated encountering a few elk in the meadows, or barring that, at least a large, canvas-shelter-studded hunter's camp where I could shoot the breeze with some hunters before continuing my hike, but instead found pure emptiness and beautiful terrain. No moose or elk, just a large clearing in an otherwise unbroken forest plateau, over 6,000 feet above sea level.

I continued on to Walton Lakes, where I found one of the most unpredictable sights I've ever seen in the backcountry. While letting my legs cool off a bit on the lakeshore, I spotted a snowshoe hare, its fur patchy and matted down to its body, perched precariously on a dead log sticking out into the lake.

I crept closer and closer, waiting for it to bound across the log and off into the pines, but it didn't move except for blinking its eyes. The thing looked as if it had lived a full life, which I'm sure it had. But it was clear, from the look in its eyes, and from the energy I felt while taking in the scene that this hare didn't have too much longer to live. Any day could bring a snowstorm of several feet to the area, and when that happened, it certainly wouldn't make it.

But this hare had found the most idyllic, beautiful, and peaceful place to perish. The hare was close to death, and although haggard, it didn't seem frightened at all. It had lived its life, and was ready to move on to the next phase of its existence calmly and purposefully. I breathed deeply after I took this next picture, thinking that I was, in all likelihood, the last living creature to see this Shoeshoe Hare before it died. I wish its spirit the best.