So, I am anxiously awaiting the first few snowflakes of the season... I love snow. I love it a lot. Last year was the first year I had hunted in the snow and it was magical. It was so quiet and the temps would change just enough that it would go from snow to a wet snow to a light rain and back. Dad and I were drenched but cold enough to keep our gloves on. We sat and sat and sat. Then walked, walked, walked. When we were getting ready to call it a morning, we saw a single track. Like kids on Christmas morning, our energy levels sky rocketed and we started to follow. It was a fresh track and we split up.
Reason number 3,657,935 why my Dad is the best: As we were snowmobiling, we approached a bog and three eagles with about 20 crows took off. It could only mean one thing in my book - something was dead. We circled back and walked around in the snow but the birds had left and we couldnt find anything that would resemble a meal. A part of me thinks that we were in the wrong piece of land and should have been on the other side of the bog but in our snowmobile gear, we were not going to cover a lot of ground. I was disappointed that we couldn't find what the birds were eating but I was able to get some good pictures of one of the mature eagles and the immature eagle that were flying around.