It was cold this morning. That fact seemed to sink in as we were heading out of town, as the cold of the seat crept through my jeans onto my skin.

It occurred to me that I probably should have at least brought my thermals along.

But no, it will surely get warmer after the sun comes up and the clouds thin out. I'm sure I saw a forecast calling for high temps in the 50s.

As we rounded Lone Haystack Mountain about ten miles north of town, we were slammed with a flurry of snow.

And as we approached the Seminoes, they looked surprisingly white. As in 2-3 inches of snow at the base, close to six inches of the white stuff on top. All the trees were covered with damp snow. Most of the willows were dragging near the ground.

Snow made it easy to find hunters. Most were smart enough to park on the main road and walk. And it was pretty easy to check by the doors to see how many people came in each vehicle. But of course they were all empty, with the hunters afoot or on their ATVs.

Found four trucks on the Loop Road, and then looped back to the main. Just before the junction, a falcon swooped down in front of us. And landed on a snow-free rock at the base of the cliffs. Checked with the binocs.

Dark falcon, slate blue-grey, light grey band at tip of the tail.

Yep, a merlin.

Only the third I've ever seen in the wild. And within a mile of the other two places where I've seen merlins.

Cool.

Just around the bend we surprised a coyote on the road, which got heelers slammed up against the windshield before it finally darted into the willows along Morgan Creek. Gave the sisters a chance to get out and smell, which they did. Huffing and puffing with their spine hairs erect. Also left several scent marks of their own.

About this time one of the dispatchers was in a frenzy of activity. Seems one of our neighbor wardens had checked in to advise he was going to be horseback, checking some camps. Seven minutes later asked them to run a license plate and then check the owner for priors.

Owner's name came back with a warning alert. Even matched to the same birthdate.

And game warden would not respond to calls on the radio.

After about 10 minutes of silence she began calling for all the neighboring wardens, seeing who were the closest. It's a big state. Closest were both nearly 60 miles and 90 minutes away, but they headed that direction. County sheriff's office sent a deputy from town, but he would be even farther away.

25 minutes later the errant warden called back. He was fine, everything 10-4. But it was exciting for a while.

Spent most of the morning driving back and forth on the few open roads, checking the same vehicles.

Missed one hauling out a small bull by less than 10 minutes. Damn!

As we headed up the last steep hill before the crest, we encountered a small car with Colorado plates spinning out on the road. As I waited, he began backing down the hill, waving me to pass.

Definitely not a hunting vehicle, full of fishing poles. A young man trying to get to the North Platte in the other side of the mountains. But with smooth, small tires and not much engine.

This is the last hill before the river. If he could have made that, he would be home free, angling away on the Miracle Mile. It's over four hours detour to the west, and not much shorter, and certainly muddier, to detour to the east. If I was him, I would have waited an hour or so for more snow to melt, rather than giving up.

After checking a few vehicles on the north side of the divide, heelers and I took a lunch break at a pulloff near the crest of the divide. Provides a great view of the ridges to the south and west, and any gunshot in those canyons should echo up to here.

In the middle of lunch, the fisherman in the little Colorado car came spinning up the hill again. All the way over the top.

The Little Engine that Could.

He'd waited for snowmelt.

And by the way, have I mentioned that heelers love vienna sausages in barbecue sauce?

Gotta get to bed... elk area 108 opens tomorrow. You'd think the guy responsible for these areas would do a better job of staggering the season opening dates, wouldn't you?