(Notes from yesterday's flight.)

It was an absolutely, positively perfect day for flying. Clear skies, perfect tracking snow, and no wind at all.

Just a few clouds hanging onto the south side of the Ferrises, and a thin cloud bank perched on top of Bradley Peak.

We started our search at Bear Mountain and Junk Hill, then swung east to the north side of the Seminoes.

Contrary to everything they taught in my wildlife biology classes, most of our winter ranges are on the north slopes of the mountains, not the sunny south faces. In places with little or no wind, the south-facing slopes are sunnier and warmer, and that's where you find your critters in winter.

But with our prevailing west-southwest winds, all the chinook effect occurs on the north slopes. The ridges are bared off by the gusts, and the air compresses, and therefore gets warmer, as it gunnels down the north face.

The entire countryside was a fantasyland of white. With white-frosted green pines on the hillsides.

As soon as we crossed onto the north side of the Seminoes, we cut tracks.

From the air, the snow has a flat grey-blue cast to it. And any set of tracks, even by cottontail rabbits, jumps out as a bright neon-white line.

There were large track lines wandering through the Sunday Morning rocks, that then combined and led down off the mountains into the bare grass and sagelands. We followed them, seemingly forever, spooking two coyotes as we did. Almost four miles down, we found what we were looking for.

Nine bull elk, bedded down on a sunny slope in a draw. Circled twice for pics, which brought my first feelings of queasiness.

Found 115 elk bedded down on a bench above the chalk hills by the Miracle Mile, probably less than a mile from the swarms of hardy anglers.

Three small raghorns and two spikes trying to tough it out close to the mountains.

No elk down low by Pathfinder, but miles and miles of sweeping antelope trails in the snow. Instead of deep cutting ruts that elk make, the tracks of antelope herds look like bright strokes of a narrow paint brush across the blue-grey. Occassionally broadening out into individual trails as the herd found a promising stand of sage, and then forming their brush stroke across the landscape again.

Sometimes sweeping in to circle themselves. All too often spreading out against a fenceline, unable to cross.

Spotted a few small herds of mule deer. Tracks, or rather the lack of tracks, indicate they hadn't moved much since the storm. Just stayed put, pawing their way down to shrubs to eat.

Found about 150 elk on the unnamed butte north of Bear Mountain. Nineteen bulls and spikes bedded high on the butte, and 130 cows and calves on the protected, sunny east slope. Had to circle three or four times for a good count and photos. Closest I got to losing my stomach on this flight (but I didn't).

Off to the Ferris Mountains. Found the usual bunch of bulls at Jimmy's Rocks, but the snow had forced them down into the bare slopes below. Three small groups near ridgetops.

Beautiful brown and tan animals against the bare white.. Especially the two off wandering by themselves, from bush to bush, trying to find something to eat.

Two more bulls high on Pete Creek, tracks showing they had just come out of the forest to bed in the sun.

Tracks of five elk in the draws below these two. Followed their meanderings, first east across the face and then due north into the open flats. After roughly six miles of tracking, we found them... five magnificent bulls, bedded high on a ridge. Passed quite low over them, but two refused to get up.

You could see anything on these bare flats for five miles around. Finally found the last elk herd, about 125 animals, bedded low on Arkansas creek a good 12 miles from the mountains. Probably the same elk the heeler sisters and I snuck up on last month.

Checked the rest of the north face, but no elk. No tracks. Then passed over Whiskey Gap to check the south side. There is always wind in this gap, funneled between the Ferrises and Whiskey Peak, and today was no exception. Flying along with a steep, rocky mountain on our left, close enough to see each snow-glazed tree, and then the sudden, stomach churning drop, accompanied by the stall alarm.

Nothing to be worried about. Just the usual rite of passage from the north face to the south.

Still some thin clouds on the south side, but good enough to fly and see. Less snow, since this was the storm shadow of the mountain. Even a few patches of bare ground. And one nice herd of deer, high on a ridgetop to avoid the cold air settled below. A large buck tending watch over the rest of the bedded herd.

But no elk.

Homeward bound, so the pilot could still make his flight to Enid, Oklahoma tonight.

Lot of trails of antelope herds on the hogback ridges south of Brown's Canyon. Several that went sweeping in circles upon themselves, one even in a four-leaf clover pattern.

And the pilot fortunately remembered we had no tail wheel. Went the length of the runway on the front wheels only, settling down on the third as we pivoted to park on the taxiway.

My barf bag was out of the backpack, but unopened and empty.

Always a sign of a good flight.