At first Ellie didn't want to go out, and tried to hide from me, but when I grabbed my camera, she came running.
The Chemung River is running very fast here, and isn't safe. Ellie is cautious, and only checks the water temperature on a low bank. It's too cold for her, and she resumes her walk.
The snow was blown from the NorthWest and has stuck on the trees. It's not very heavy, but thick enough to cause us to slog our way.
It's hard to tell from the photos, but the snow is almost blinding. We've stuck to the woodsy areas, to allow us to rest our eyes a bit. The paths are already marked by other travelers.
Ellie is hunting the smaller animals that keep burrows all around us. She pokes her head into a hole, and raises it only when she hears something.
Now we are surrounded by walkers up on the dike. This is where Ellie turned naughty. She wouldn't come to the whistle, and barked at cross-country skiers. However, she rapidly lost interest after a quick sniff, and was ready to move on. I decided to leave on a peaceful note and we headed home. She's dead out, asleep at her window.
Ahh, the winter of our discontent, as they say. The sky is cloudy and the air is biting. At the same time, the wind is singing a deep, throaty song as it rushes through the Chemung Valley. I don't know if it is coming off the bridges, or the frozen water, or if, maybe, it is playing the osprey pole like a reed.
The top of this part of the river is frozen, at least near the shore. The HuggaMutt is perfectly safe. Later on, she will break through in a little creek where we usually cross on the rocks. The rocks are inaccessible to me. She makes it, although she wets a paw in the process.
A surprise! Almost all of the thicket has been cleared, probably last week, before the cold snap. Is it for visibility, or simply to prevent overgrowth?
No matter. Ellie's loving it, and she's hunting like a true ground dog. Some little critter is challenging her, and she won't come to the call. I head back, blowing her whistle. Once she hears it, she cocks her head at me, barely visible. I whistle once more, and she comes running on her tiny legs, looking like the eensy powerhouse that she is.
Just before it clouds completely, the sun comes out for one last hurrah. And it's a beauty.
Ellie and I do not let the cold stop us. The wind chill is -3 F (approx. -20C). Of course a little dog is low to the ground, avoiding the worst of the gusts, especially down by the levees. We also cover her in clothes, enough to make her overheat in the house and car.
This view was mostly swamp last week. Right now Ellie and I can walk right down the middle of the flooded area.
Make no mistake, though; the Chemung River is not silent. The floes are forming dams, but the water still runs freely.
All the leaves are gone, now. Mid January is the time to watch for seed pods and fruit.
Never learned what these are called. I love them any time of the year!
Now these I hate. Cockleburs, I think. Right now, even as I compose, my flannel lined pants, and all Ellie's polar fleece, are in the wash, trying to divest themselves of these little buggers.
This is another year-round pleasure. They will hang on the trees right through the various seasons, waiting for a really strong storm to carry them.
