In Mountain and Meadow
Colorado Nature Close to Home

Life

My dog Ben is loyal without end, but he is not comfortable with strangers. He tolerates them unless they look at him or talk to him, then lets loose a growl that's meaning is felt as much as heard: 'Give me some room, now.'

And I have used his antisocial nature a couple of times when people asked me straight out if they could go backpacking with me. 'I would be ok with it, but my dog Ben has fear aggression, and I am not sure it would be safe.'

It is tempting to have someone along, especially a lady friend. The more I think about it though, the more I realize my trip would be ruined. I go up there for solitude, to live the essence of a rich life, paying attention to beauty, listening to how quiet and holy night can be. It is a rare experience. I am sure I would not be the same person without those times away.

Perhaps if I were younger I wouldn't be so stubborn about my aloneness.

My daughter Amy let me take her 10 month old puppy along the last time out. He learned plenty on his first mountain trip, about freedom, openness, and how to fight.

Ben and him were playing constantly, chasing each other through the woods as our good weather turned to rain, and continued their game as the rain became snow and cold. I noticed that it always seemed to be older Ben's teeth that were flashing, and young Drift ducking away from them.

At night they slept the sound sleep of a day well lived, and helped warm the inside of my tent.

In the middle of the night I awoke and listened to blizzard winds blowing the snow through the forest. That sound was oddly comforting - maybe because I was warm and cozy in my sleeping bag, maybe from knowing that I could handle myself up here in any kind of weather.

Me and the dogs went out exploring in the snow, investigating hidden canyons and rock formations. We came across the remnants of a coyote kill on a snowshoe hair - only clumps of fur and guts and the head were left. After we moved on and I saw Ben carrying the head I couldnt resist telling him to drop it, then picking it up by the ears and throwing it to him like a ball. Ben leaped high and snatched the rabbit head out of the air in his jaws.

We would wander back to our campsite in the shelter of a large rock now and then, to sit and warm by the fire. We listened to the blessed quiet of the snow falling.

There is no doubt journeys like that change a person. I don't have much patience for loud talk and BS. For me the measure of real character is found out there where few words are spoken.

I think the deep quiet and beauty and adventure becomes part of a man - and maybe part of the wild nature of those border collies as well.

I bet that pup never forgets his mountain journey, at least until the next time he gets to go with us.