"Is that a Bear?"
On a recent fishing trip with the husband, we had caught our limit of brook trout and was headed home. It was a good day, but the fishing was slow. The walk in was mucky, sometimes up to my ankles in nasty goo. The water is always cold when you first step in for some wading. Most of the time over the knees.
It never came out until we were done fishing and even then it was a struggle to find anything all that inspiring to take a picture of.
The scenery is less than spectacular for this particular location.
But you never know . . .
A butterfly was getting it's fill of pollen from pink flowers so tall I could barely get the lens above it.
The clouds were in and out over the little meadow we had just fished.
Tom cleaned our fish.
Then back in the backpack for safe keeping.
We walked back to the Jeep, through the same ankle deep (shoe-sucking) muck and over-grown trail, content the day could be counted a success.
We were at the top of a long downhill section of dirt road when we thought something crossed at the bottom. It looked like there may have been a Mama with baby in tow.
I watched through the viewfinder as she pinned her ears back and ran straight up the side of the mountain at steady clip. Straight to us like she was on the best exploring adventure ever!
As she drew even to where we had come to a stop in the middle of the road, I quietly cracked the door open far enough to get one foot on the ground and get my head, an arm and my camera outside through the space above the hinges. And click, click, click . . .
Every time the shutter sounded her ears perked up and pointed at me; then they would relax back. She looked as if she might head on up the mountain to continue her run, but then the left ear tipped back towards Mama. She turned her neck until the rest of her body turned in the same direction and off she jogged back down the hill.
Mama's calling me . . .