The snowbanks are gone. All of them, except a few in the high mountains of our southern neighbor state.

But then, it is August, right?

And the elk are doing their best to find whatever green they can. The five radio-collared cows along the lower portion of the Continental Divide are pretty much stuck where they are.

Any direction they go is worse. Dry. Hot. Brown.

Fortunately, or actually by their design, the places they're at are still fairly green. Even though two have moved down the hill.

Which is where the reservoirs and irrigated fields are.

The three using the large expanse of aspen along the edge of the forest on the Pacific side have all moved up into the mountains proper. Into the rocky canyons furrowed by shady babbling brooks and creeks, lined with narrow green meadows.

Our gal by Columbine has done the same, abandoning the aspen foothills so favored by the Rainbow Family for higher conifer stands.

I don't remember her being so high last summer, but I could be wrong.

And our Continental Divide-crossing cow elk?

She's right where she was two weeks ago. In the spring and seep fed meadows just below the talus slopes of the Divide itself.

Other than the irrigated fields of the Valley, those were just about the only green places we saw.

In our 1.3 hours of bumpy flying.