Three weeks ago, I went snowshoeing at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum. I started this entry then, but I haven’t been able to finish it. Today truly feels like spring (at last), and I decided I’d better take the time to complete this essay before it no longer has any relevancy.
March temperatures have finally arrived. With a few days above freezing, the snow is starting to degrade. I took advantage of a still-below-freezing morning Saturday to make what I hope is my final snowshoeing trip of the winter at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum.
It was still chilly when I set out, only 20 degrees Fahrenheit, which is actually warmer than any of my other trips this year. I left my heavy gloves at home in favor of thin, knitted ones, since my hands usually grow so warm that I have to remove my heavy gloves. Initially, this didn’t seem like a good idea. The first part of the trail passes down a hill in deep shade, and my hands grew very cold. By the time I climbed the first high hill, however, I was warming up. I followed my typical route of up the hills, skirting the prairie, and circling down to head to the wildflower garden and arbor vitae collection.
I had thought to see more people on a Saturday morning, when temperatures were forecast for the 20s (instead of the teens), but I saw only one other woman snowshoeing for the first mile or so. I had intended to head for the prairie loop first, but when I saw she was headed that way, I chose the other direction to allow each of us our solitude. I actually saw more people walking on the Three-Mile Drive than I saw snowshoeing.
It was a beautiful morning. The sun is so much higher in the sky now, and the sky is a much brighter blue. Were it not for the deep snow, it might feel and look more like spring. The sun is working on the snow. Parts of the trail were icy, where the snow had melted and frozen again.
The snow is still very deep, however, and as the sun and warmer temperatures work on it, it is becoming less solid in spots. I was glad for my poles, for some parts of the trail were slippery and unstable. I could see, too, where people had walked on the snowshoe trail—prints from boots and yak trax were clearly visible—and it was easy to tell where they stepped off the trail. Their prints sank deeply into the snow: more than 12 inches. There is still plenty of snow on the ground.

The birds and squirrels seemed glad of the warmer temperatures. I saw and heard more birds on this trip than I have on any of my others. A pair of downy woodpeckers, in particular, was far more intent on each other than on me. I came upon them flying around a grove of trees, and despite the crunch of my snowshoes on the late winter snow, they did not seem to notice me—or at least they hardly cared. One of them flew so close to me that I could hear the thrumming sound of its wingbeats. It landed on a branch only a few feet from me, watching the other bird, and only when I moved my arm a little to rest my pole, did it seem to notice me. The other woodpecker fluttered to a nearby branch, and without another look at me, the first one flew after it.
I saw evidence of a raptor, as well. I took a picture of what looks like squirrel fur, with a few drops of blood nearby, left smack in the middle of the trail. There were no other tracks around, so I doubt it was a fox that was the attacker. There also were no entrails, so either the raptor caught only the tail, and the squirrel escaped, or it carried it away to eat it elsewhere. Only a few feet farther down the trail, a fat squirrel was scampering between the trees. I couldn’t see its tail well enough to see if it was missing a tuft of fur.

I saw fewer deer tracks this time. Perhaps the deer have moved off elsewhere. It must have been a hard winter for them, what with the deep snow and cold temperatures. I wonder about the other birds and beasts that winter in the area. How hard was it on them?
It was a lovely day to be out, with the sun shining so brightly and the air crisp and fresh. I traveled 3 miles and found that endorphin rush again. To give you an idea of how many hills I climbed, my Fitbit One recorded that I climbed the equivalent of 50 flights of stairs. I did not have to worry about my hands or any part of me being cold for very long.

I will miss my snowshoeing when spring finally comes, but I will be glad when the snow melts and I can walk or run the Arboretum trails, my eyes refreshed with the green of growing things after this long winter of white and black.