"Acorn"-ucopia of Nuts

 

"There is a crispness in the air as mother bear drinks in the morning's deep flavorful aromas. Other than the spoor of a distant white-tail, her senses are keen on the bounty that awaits her and her cubs. For today they shall feast on the fruits of the mighty oak."

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The fall season is fast approaching for our ursine friends. It is a time when many animals begin to gorge themselves on high-calorie food items in preparation for a long harsh winter. In the technical world, nerds like me often refer to this time as hyperphagia. The term is biological jargon that, in Greek, means excessive hunger or increased appetite. Since very few of us speak Greek, I shall refer to it in normal speak and call it what most lay people refer to as the "fall shuffle". And don't worry, I don't expect many folks to speak Latin either, so if you are wondering what our "ursine" friends are, they of course are members of the wonderful family of bears.

There is nothing better than the beauty of fall in the mountains.

I have always loved the fall, not because my favorite sport, hockey, is soon to start (you probably thought I was going to say football....NOT, I like my sports more manly!), but rather because the changing season signifies a time when the outdoors come alive. It is a time when days afield are most glorious. Not only is the weather conducive for all-day hikes but mostly because many animals change their feeding patterns in preparation for wintertime and therefore, become quite visible to the observant outdoorsman... none more so than bears.

The fall shuffle is an opportune time to view the ever-starved wild black bear. Simply look for a treasure trove of acorns, white oak acorns to be exact, and sooner or later they will be vacuumed up by our scent-driven friends. But what if you have the oxymoronic "wild-captive" bear in your charge? How do you supply their preferred food?

Simple...

You capitalize on the passionate hearts of those who love bears the most... KIDS!

It never ceased to amaze me how simple it was to acquire food for orphaned cubs. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, I have evidence that confirms a picture of a cub is worth a thousand acorns!

Before the advent of social media and far-reaching pleas for assistance I had to rely on more clever tricks to acquire natural foods for the bears. One of my more ingenious tricks not only gathered thousands of pounds of nuts but it also cost the bear center a whopping $1.75 to run the entire program.

Whenever I would begin to run low on my acorn supply I would simply place a call to one of the local elementary schools and ask if they'd be interested in someone coming in to talk to their students about black bears. Never once were we turned down. This is were ingenuity became my best friend.

Prior to visiting a school I would stop at a local gift store and purchase a handful of "bear" postcards. Given the fact that we operated just outside Great Smoky Mountain National Park, postcards were not only easy to come by but a variety of bear pictures was easy to acquire. With cards in hand, ABR props in tow, and a wealth of knowledge to share with the kids I would make my rounds at the various schools.

"Speed Bump," a retired ABR puppet, never failed to capture the kids attention.

I can't tell you what a joy and blessing it was to teach wide-eyed school children of all ages about one of my favorite topics of all...black bears. And then, with teacher approval, I would draw a postcard from my back pocket and ask the kids if they'd be willing to help us feed the cubs at the bear center. They would all gasp in excitement.

I would then present the postcard and say, "Whoever can collect the most acorns over the next week will get a signed postcard from one of our cubs!"

The gasps and shrieks of excitement were rampant.

Inevitably the time would drag by as I waited for the week to pass but upon my return, I was never disappointed. In fact, one teacher had called me and said, "You better be bringing a pick-up truck because I have bags of acorns spilling out my classroom!"

I kinda think she may have been a bit overwhelmed by the outpouring. ;)

One child in particular caught my attention, in fact I made sure her story made the local newspaper. The sweet little blonde first grader didn't bring in a wheelbarrow full of nuts. She didn't even bring in a half-full grocery bag. Nope. She came up to me and presented me with a Kleenex with two tiny little acorns in it. It was her story that melted me. She had told me she went home the day I came to talk to her class anxious to gather nuts to help feed the bears. Unfortunately she became upset when she discovered the tree in her yard was not bearing fruit. Feeling sorry for her daughter, her mother drove her to Memaw's house in hopes of finding food for the bears. Much to her chagrin, Memaw's oak tree was also lean on acorns. She did however, manage to find two small half-ripened acorns tucked under some fallen leaves. So she wrapped them up in a Kleenex she had crumpled in her pocket.

Needless to say, a special little cub sent that sweet little girl a heartfelt "Thank You" postcard that very afternoon.

Catching Cubs...Literally!

Have you ever had one of those long ago memories you replay in your mind and although you smile you can't help but think, "What the _______ was I thinking?!"

Having worked with bears for a time in my life, I'm chock full of those memories. Thankfully, I still have all my fingers and toes and only one bite wound to my record. How I survived relatively unscathed still baffles me to this day, especially when reminiscing about the day I was catching cubs...literally.

 

Photo courtesy of Appalachian Bear Rescue.

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The day had started routine enough, frantic woman, barely consolable, pleading with me to come rescue three bear cubs from the apple tree in her backyard. In other words, nothing out of the ordinary (believe me, I've had much stranger calls). Low and behold, after calming her down and coaxing out the details, I learned the situation wasn't near as dire as she believed it to be. In fact, there really was no situation at all.

According to her, the cubs had been in and around her apple tree for a few days. What made this story unremarkable was the fact that so was "mom". She had been sighted in the area multiple times but for whatever reason, she would wander off and leave her cubs safely tucked away in the tree's branches. This apparently was a decent parenting practice from the bear's point of view but unfortunately it was an inadequate display of "mom skills" in the eyes of my early morning caller. She wanted the cubs rescued and there was no other action that would suffice.

Needless to say, I did my best to discourage her from taking any rash actions and assured her the cubs were in the best hands, or should I say paws, possible.

An hour later she called again and asked if help was on the way. At this point I realized this wasn't going to be an easy fix.

Again I tried to explain the situation and that the cubs truly were in no danger with mom periodically checking on them but her auditory skills were blocked by her determination to "rescue" the cubs. She hung up more frustrated than before.

At this point in time I decided to make sure Doug Scott, the TWRA biologist, was aware of the situation. He informed me he was already "quite aware" and before long we were exchanging pleasantries and oddly similar conversations on how we both tried talking sense into her. The mutual decision of course was to leave the cubs and the situation alone.

Oh...that lasted about a whole three hours.

This time when the frantic woman called back she notified us that she was going to get a response from someone. She had called every news station in town, not to report the orphaned cubs, but rather to report the inaction of the state wildlife agency to "rescue" them.

My second call to Doug was less jovial. I informed him that within an hour there were about to be throngs of news reporters surrounding not only the woman's residence but also the tree containing the three bears. In essence, someone was about to create a situation that might not just make headlines, but might ultimately make orphans out of cubs that truly were not orphaned in the first place.

Much to my surprise Doug immediately asked, "You busy?"

"Heck no!" was my response. And even if I was I wasn't gonna miss this for the world!

Needing to take quick action Doug asked if I could meet him at the residence pronto. I was there within 45 minutes, and so was Doug.

And there, perched in an apple tree sat three fat healthy little bear cubs.

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Me: "So what's the plan?"

Doug: "We gotta get these cubs outta here before the media and the rest of the circus shows up."

Me: "What's going to happen to the cubs?"

Doug: "Nothin'. I'm gonna return them to mom after it gets dark. She'll stick around...don't worry 'bout that. We just need the people to go away and leave them alone."

Me: "Brilliant!"

Doug: "Alright lemme think how we're going to catch these things." (Apparently Doug came straight from another location and didn't have time to stop by the office to retrieve his standard capture equipment.)

Me: "Well you better hurry because my guess is the TV crews will be here in less than ten minutes!"

Doug: "What do you have equipment-wise?"

Me: "A dog-carrier, a blanket and a Snickers bar. You're not getting my Snickers."

I think Doug quickly realized the bear center was not designed or ready for emergency capture and he knew better than to ask for my Snickers again.

Doug: "Alright, here's the plan..."

My eyes widened with excitement!

Doug: "I'm going to climb up in the apple tree and drop them down one at a time."

Me: "What am I supposed to do?"

Doug: "You catch them."

My eyes undoubtedly widened further.

Doug: "Don't worry...you'll figure it out."

He said with a wry smile.

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Scrambling like MacGyver to "figure it out" as Doug made his way to the base of the tree I spied the only thing at my disposal that might be able to help me out...the blanket at the bottom of the dog crate. Fortunately, there was another tool at my disposal, a neighbor of the crazy lady who wanted this situation resolved without any fanfare around his house. As 

I suspected, he was more than happy to lend a hand.

Our conversation was brief when he looked at me for the game plan.

Me: "Catch and twirl."

Him: "Got it."

(I told you it was brief.)

Doug shimmied up the tree as the three 15-pound cubs scurried further and further away until there was nowhere left to go. Fortunately they stayed rather quiet because the last thing we needed was to be looking over our shoulder for the absentee mom. There was a strong possibility she was within ear shot and the bawling of her cubs would undoubtedly rouse her concern.

As Doug inched closer and closer to the cubs I couldn't help but find the situation humorous. There was Doug, layed-out flat on a branch that was bending precariously as the closest cub swatted at his out-stretched hand like a prizefighter. He surely wasn't going to relieve his position without a fight.

"You ready?" Doug exclaimed.

At this point I didn't think "No" was going to be a valid option.

"Drop away!" I said with trepidation.

The very next moment Doug lunged his hand forward and grabbed the cub by the scruff of his neck.  The cub tried desperately to claw and nip at his hand but within an instant Doug released his grip and the little bear was free falling toward the blanket below. Fortunately it was only about a 10-foot drop and a little black fur ball landed squarely in the middle of the outstretched blanket. We release the tension on the corners simultaneously and engulfed him as if in a large sack. Immediately he began his best Tasmanian devil impression but to no avail, he could not find the way out.

The blanket was then lowered into the upstanding dog carrier and the bear was released within. Cubs two and three followed much in the same flawless motion. It was almost as if we knew what we were doing. The neighbor thanked us profusely for saving the cubs, not in the way the original caller intended, but in a way that would truly saved them.

Needless to say, it was nothing short of miraculous. We had all three bears removed from the tree in less than five minutes, loaded onto the TWRA truck, and driven to a safe location. As we were pulling away we could see the first of the news trucks arriving on site. I could only imagine their disappointment when they discovered the cubs had "wandered off". Little did they know it involved a short flight through the air into a waiting blanket below.

Yep, maybe it wasn't such a routine day after all.

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Before anyone asks… 

Yes, the cubs were reunited with mom. Doug had simply driven to a safe location a short distance away and waited for the disappointed crowd to disappear. As the evening rolled in, the bawling from the cubs attracted mom from the nearby brush. The door to the pet carrier was opened and the cubs made a beeline towards mom. If cubs could talk, one can only imagine the story they would tell.

And They're Off!

And they're off! (Photo courtesy of ABR)

I would hazard to guess if there was one question I was asked most often when I was working at the bear center it was, "Don't you get sad when you release a bear cub?"

I never could understand the logic of that question for I always considered the release a joyous occasion. I often had to remind myself that rarely did the public get to see the dire circumstances in which I saw many of the cubs as they first arrived. This was of course, before the days of social media. Absent from view were the emaciated and sometimes broken bodies of our new arrivals. So releasing a bear was usually a grand culmination of an often difficult journey.

One bear in particular provided a stark reminder of the difficult life wild animals often lead. Arriving at the center in late May of 2000, "Hyatt" was an underweight yearling bear, tipping the scales at 33 lbs. For those of you that follow ABR, that may sound like a not-so-bad weight for a yearling since poor mast crops often yield extremely malnourished yearlings sometimes weighing-in in the 12-15 lb. range. So a 33-pounder actually sounds fat and sassy.

No, what set "Hyatt" apart was a 15-inch suture line that ran the length of her left hind leg from high up on her hip to just below the knee. The suture job of course was compliments of the superb staff at the University of Tennessee Veterinary School. You see, below the sutures was a freshly repaired hind leg complete with a shiny new metal rod inserted into her once fractured femur. Given her completely shaved hind-end and orangey-yellow betadine-stained leg, she truly looked like Franken-Bear.

Needless to say "Hyatt" responded wonderfully to her treatments. In a matter of five weeks, she not only gained 20 pounds but she completely regained use of her left hind leg, climbing as high as any other bear I have ever seen. In true-to-form fashion, she hit the ground running on release day, never looking back as she scurried down Hyatt lane, deep within Great Smoky Mountains National Park. As I packed up the equipment getting ready to head back to the center a passerby who was lucky enough to be in the right spot at the right time to witness the release asked me, "Don't you get sad when you release a cub?"

I just smiled and said, "Nope...I actually get pretty happy."

But that's not where this story ends.

My ultimate joy came about four months later, while on a relaxing, yet melancholic ride through the national park. I had recently announced my gut-wrenching decision to leave the bear center to begin my career as a public servant in state government. It was during that ride that I spotted a lone visitor pulled off to the side of the rode spying something in a tree. Sure enough it was a bear feeding in the uppermost branches of a tall oak tree. As we watched from a distance the gentleman became alarmed when his binoculars focused in on the bear's hindquarter which was now appearing to him quite hairless.

"Do you think there's something wrong with him?" he inquired.

"Nope," I said. "I think he's doing just fine."

And with that my melancholy turned to joy.

The Sound of Lightning

A funny thing happened to me on my evening walk last week. You know, one of those gear grinding events I am apt to have for some strange unknown reason, that inspire me to write. This time the inspiration occurred when an isolated New Mexico thunderstorm popped up not far from where my dogs and I were out walking. Believe it or not, it wasn't an awe-inspiring act of nature that inspired me ether. It was actually the end result from that act.

You see, a mighty powerful bolt of lightning struck a power station that serves our community. End result… over 135,000 people without electricity. This was obviously unbeknownst to me at the time since I was out in the desert enjoying the cool summer breeze and breathing in the soul-cleansing fresh air. It was only in the last mile stretch when I reentered the land of subdivisions that I noticed something was awry.

Darkened houses lit imaginations.

One would think that my cue was the endless sea of darkened houses. It was not, for the evening sun had not yet set, therefore the twinkling lights of evening suburbia were not yet occasioned.

My cue was auditory.

And it was music to my ears.

It was the sound of kids playing outside.

Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on who you ask in my family), I have lived in suburbia ever since my first son was born. So, one would think the sound of kids plying outside was routine. Sadly it was not.

Don't get me wrong, my kids played outside with neighborhood kids on occasion, but it definitely was not routine. Though you may hear the jovial laughter of a few kids enjoying the evening air, an evening walk around the neighborhood was often accompanied by lengths of silence caused by barren streets. That is what made last week's event so noteworthy.

Every single street I walked had kids playing. Not only were they playing, they were emphatically enjoying themselves. Giggles and shouts of joy filled the air.

On every single street.

Why in the world did this strike me as odd?

It was a constant unnatural sound. One I haven't heard in over 30 years.

But what on earth, or in the heavens, caused this sound?

Was something turned on to spark this joyous outburst?

On the contrary, something was turned off.... Electronics.

There were no TVs to be watched, no video games to be played, no internet to be surfed, and no computers to capture ones attention. Rather they had each other, their own imagination and a world of unexplored territory beneath their feet. And strangely enough, by the sounds of it, they were delighted.

I never knew lightning made a sound...

...but I heard it...

...and it was beautiful.

The Bear that Wouldn't Grow

Much has been written about the Fall of 1997 when it comes to bears living around the Smokies. It was a terrible mast year and bears got into trouble all over East Tennessee. Although it was a horrible year for bears, the mast failure was more or less responsible for launching the bear center into legitimacy. The sudden influx of orphaned cubs resulted in mass media attention and helped establish the center as a one-of-a-kind facility in the nation. The resulting radio-collar study that ensued with the newly released bears solidified the center as a trustworthy research facility as well. Although good stories have been written about the totality of the situation, this story singles out one...a bear given the nickname of "Freeway."

Freeway at the base of her favorite tree.

As you can imagine, "Freeway" was so nicknamed because of her circumstance. She was picked up along the freeway by TWRA officers in late October 1997. She came into the center weighing a mere 12 pounds. Although she was on the small side she was not the smallest addition of that year.  Two other bears had arrived weighing equal to or less than her so nothing appeared unusual about her condition. That is the bad thing about a mast failure, it is an equal opportunity debilitator.

Freeway was given a routine exam and placed in the main bear pens along with the soon-to-be twelve other orphans of that year. As is standard practice, the food was poured on and the bears were left alone. It wasn't until about two months later that I first took notice. There was something different about "Freeway."

Throughout late fall and early winter bears are in a state called hyperphagia. It means their bodies are literally starving for calories, hence they continuously eat. This is a wonderful adaptation, especially if you are looking to gain weight before a long winter's sleep. During this time, substantial weight gains are typical in the bears as they pack in the calories and pack on the pounds. As an example of this phenomenon, two of the bears from that year were admitted in mid-November, and released in early-January after having gained over 40 pounds in a two-month period. That's almost a pound a day! That's like me over Christmas holiday!

This obviously was an ideal situation since we were trying to increase their weight quickly  so they could be returned to the wild as soon as possible. That winter, all the bears were doing great, save one..."Freeway."

She simply wasn't growing.

She literally looked the same size as the day she arrived.

The veterinary exam did not reveal any abnormalities or extraneous parasite loads. She appeared to be a healthy little bear. After discussing the situation with National Park biologist and bear aficionado, Kim Delozier, the only conclusion we came up with was she was simply the runt of her litter. In other words, she was genetically programmed to be a small bear.

Needless to say I tried everything possible, making sure she had rations that far exceeded the normal daily amounts.

She ate... but still she didn't grow.

She remained at the center for almost five months, as long as any other bear from that year. She even behaved like all the other bears though they were three times her size often palling around with another relatively famous bear from that batch, "Houdini".

Houdini was released alongside Freeway.

One by one her pen-mates were released.

And soon there were two. "Houdini" and "Freeway."

Another call to Kim Delozier took place and a decision was made..."They go together!"

What made this a unique decision at the time was that bears were always returned to the general area in which they came. This meant "Freeway" would return to an area in Cherokee National Forest, while "Houdini" would go back to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Given her situation an agreement was made between the state and federal agencies to allow the bear to be released into the National Park with her pen-mate.

In March of 1998, "Houdini" and "Freeway" were returned to the wild.

They both hit the woods running and never looked back, undoubtedly living the life of happy, free and wild bears.

Glow-in-the-Dark Wildlife

As most of you know I lead a charmed life.  Not only do I pursue my passion but I have made a career out of it. Studying wildlife is an adventure uniquely fulfilling yet I find myself constantly starved for more. This has led me to do things I never in my wildest dreams dreamed of… and believe me my dreams were pretty wild!

Never along the way did I imagine I would spend countless summer nights driving the back roads of Tennessee peering through the eye-piece of a high-end piece of video equipment searching for wildlife. That piece of equipment wasn't just an expensive camera either, it was a handheld thermal imager. The kind of camera that sees heat instead of visible light. It was introduced to me in the summer of 2006 by Dale Grandstaff, an eager young wildlife officer in Montgomery County. 

Given the high-tech equipment to assist with law enforcement duties, Dale discovered something truly amazing. I distinctly remember sitting at my desk when Dale gave me a call and simply said, "Daryl, you have GOT to see this!" A few days later I was up in Montgomery County sitting in Dale's truck anxiously awaiting the sun to set.  In the meantime, he explained the camera as well as his excitement.

"As you look through the camera, the lens detects heat. Within the camera's field of view, it detects the ambient air temperature and then it assigns objects warmer than that temperature the brightest white, while the objects colder than that are assigned a deep black. Every object within the field that is close to ambient air temp is then assigned a shade of gray," he said eagerly.

I imagine my perplexed look told him I still didn't quite understand and had yet to share in his excitement.

"This is where it gets good," he said. "I took it out in the field the other night just to see what I could see....and I was absolutely blown away! You wouldn't believe the deer I saw!"

Dale then went on to explain why this camera was so special and the light bulb moment finally went on in my own head. Here's why...

In an urban environment, there are numerous artificial heat sources. Think about the thermal imagery you sometimes see on those law enforcement reality shows. You know, the ones where it depicts a "bad guy" running desperately through the streets in a seemingly hopeless situation. Oftentimes you see this glowing white human-like form running headlong down crowded streets all the while the "eyes in the sky" keep tabs on his every move. Think about it, he's pretty easy to follow with that camera. However, as you watch the video in your mind's eye, think about all the other glowing white objects in the picture. There are other people, street lights, car engines, various external motors such as A/C units and all sorts of artificial heat sources all around. All of these objects are drastically warmer than the ambient air temperature so they too glow bright white.

Now let's extricate ourselves from the city.

Let's think about a place in the country away from other people and machinery.

What in that landscape is the only thing that doesn't cool down when the sun sets?

Pro-Tech thermal imaging camera.

This is where high school biology kicks in. Geologic formations (I.e. rocks and dirt) along with vegetative matter (I.e. trees and other plants) all cool down with the dropping night-time temperatures; yet some things don't cool down. Yep, you guessed it...Animals! Specifically, warm-blooded mammals. Because of their bodily features and metabolism they are designed to maintain a constant body temperature somewhere in the mid to upper 90's.

If you were to look at a field of deer with a thermal imager on a mid-Summer's day, the screen would display a blurred vision of gray tones since all temperatures within the field of view would be hovering in the mid-90s.  Now if you wait about twelve hours until the sun sets and the ambient temperatures drop to the low 70s, or even better, 50's or 60's, the animals in the field of view will be "burnin' hot"...or in other words glowing bright white!

An elk tries to sneak past us in the pitch black night.

The animal's natural camouflage becomes obsolete and even their partially obscured or hidden bodies stand out. You could not only see all the mammals within your field of view, you couldn't miss them!

Needless to say, Dale's discovery led to multiple years of experimentation with thermal cameras for wildlife surveys. The cameras have been used for estimating deer and elk populations as well as for feral hog control. They have even been used to record the emergence of bats from their hibernacula.

Yeah...I have led a charmed life!

One Measly Little Cloud...

Let me start by saying... it wasn't my fault. :)

Gotta love when you have to start off a story that way. Soooo...anyway, I was trying to go from Point A to Point B on the forest the other day, that wonderful 1.6 million acre forest of mine mind you. There are two routes that take me to my final destination. One route is the paved route, that takes you 61 miles along the highway and skirts around the forest. It is also a road I have traveled a dozen times.

....OR....

I could opt for the other route which is only 44 miles along a sometimes unimproved dirt road. It passes through some of the most beautiful country in all of North America but travel is often slow and bumpy.

There really was no decision to be made.

This is where it gets fun.

When I left the Jemez Ranger Station there were bright blue skies so I decided to take the top down on the jeep and enjoy the Rocky Mountain sunshine. Though the homestead was experiencing 90° weather since I was at 7,000 foot elevation it was only in the low 80s.  In other words, the weather was perfect!

As I snaked along the road less traveled, I took a slight detour along a parallel road just to see what I could see. Only having a road map with me I could not see the contours of the terrain. This road decided to climb.

Before long I was just over 9,000 feet and the vistas were incredible. The one thing that was concerning me however, was a small dark cloud that hovered near the top. Low and behold as I crested the ridge the thunder rolled...but it was unlike any thunder that I usually hear. This thunder surrounded me. There was no direction. I was in the cloud that was now growing angry.

Needless to say it was thunder's counterpart, "lightning" that concerned me most. As if not to be outdone, hail soon joined the party uninvited. I had to make a mad dash to the overhead cover of a fir tree so I could get the top up on the jeep and save my arms from the pea-sized hail. Fortunately it was nowhere near as bad as my previous golfball-hail episode. Needless to say I was in bad straights and had to get off the mountain quickly.

A quick look at the road map directed me to make my next left to make a beeline to the main dirt highway, one that I knew to be much lower in elevation.

Well, guess what? Hail turned into torrent rain.

All from one measly little black cloud.

The crazy thing was I saw a blue skies in every direction just a few miles away.

Well my spidey-senses should've kicked into overdrive when that little left-hand turn was marked by a "Unimproved Road Ahead - Travel at Own Risk. Good thing was it was only about 3 miles to the main dirt road.

Fortunately, after about 10 minutes, the rain had stopped but everything was soaked. Especially the road. No longer was it dirt, rather it was now the consistency of a muddy soup.

The first obstacle should have gave me pause. The wheels sank and the road scraped the undercarriage but the four-wheel-drive kept plodding through and I emerged unscathed...muddy as all get out...but unscathed.

Let me just say the next two miles totally sucked. I had to get out and walk a few hundred yards to scope out each mud pit and map my hopeful trajectory. There were pits and ruts that if I fell into, I simply was not getting out. Also, each trek outside the jeep added layers of mud on my hiking boots. It literally felt like I was walking with 50 pound weights on each foot. Needless to say the carpets within the jeep weren't too happy.

After an hour and a half I had only traversed two miles but I was still moving and I only had the last half-mile before me...the steep muddy downhill.

I found a level spot, parked the jeep and committed to my routine of scouting my path before making the pass with the jeep. It didn't look good.

The road was so slick I had trouble walking on it. I literally couldn't stand still without sliding down the hill. What made matters worse was there was a deep trench on the right-hand side of the road, at least two feet deep, enough to trap the jeep tires. To add insult to injury besides the steep downhill, the road slanted to the right drawing everything into the trench.

And there was absolutely no going back. I had to give it a go.

I had to have all four wheels moving while keeping the tires pointed left, toward the upward side of the slanting road.

Yeah... that worked real well. {{{rolling eyes}}}

It's also why I'm writing the story.

The jeep got sucked towards the trench. Even though all four wheels were spinning they were simply sliding tractionless on the mud and gravity was taking me down. Fortunately I hit the top of the trench and came to a stop.

After assessing the situation I realized that any slight attempt by me to move the jeep would send it deeper and deeper into the trench.

Did I mention this forest is 1.6 MILLION acres?

I slugged the last of my water and began sliding downhill on foot.

Fortunately the main dirt road was only about a half mile away. It too was a mud bath and there were no fresh tracks, nor did I think there would be. This 44-mile stretch of road doesn't get much traffic even in-mid summer. So the walk began.

As luck would have it, I encountered the house of a homesteader off in the distance. And yes, there were telephone lines running to it.

All I want to say is Carolyn was a godsend. She gave me a ride to the district office where I was offered assistance by one of our fire crews. A few hours later, three trucks made their way up the hill to help extricate my jeep from its precarious situation. And yes, even some of the heavy-duty trucks needed help making it through that pass.

After about a six hour ordeal, I had all four wheels back on solid ground.

Lesson One: Weather can change on a dime in the Rockies.

Lesson Two: I really need to stay away from these Point A to Point B exercises!

I so love my job!