It’s been quite the year, but we’re back now.
The first morning I saw the white kid cruiser in my spot I’ll admit I was a bit confused. You see, this spot, well, no one else comes here. Especially before sun up. Nope, this is my parking spot on this empty dirt road with nothing but a lone silo for miles.
“There’s a bird.” “Look, another one.” “Two more.”
And as we crested the next roll there stood three roosters, caught in my speeding headlights, at the break of dawn, in the middle of County Road 32. Driving too fast to swerve, and not enough time to brake we bear down and the pheasants scatter. A few feathers clip the windshield, but we come through clean. “Whew”. It can’t be good fortune to run down a limit of pheasants on the way to the field, but only time will answer this question.
Wandering the backroads of rural north east Colorado there’s not much to see. Most of the time. I’ll admit to having become somewhat taken by the landscape out in this corner of Colorado and the shear vastness of it. The air is clean, there are no sounds to speak of and maybe you see a truck or two coming down a road over the span of any given day.