Spring fever hit me early this year but I wasn’t the only one who fell prey to this disease. A robin dared show his beak in my yard the last day of February…when the snow was still up to 3 feet deep in the shelterbelts and fields. I’m sure he was wondering what he was doing in North Dakota along with the rest of us!
It was on this day I gave into winter once again and strapped on my snowshoes. Last year was my first experience at this “feat” of strapping huge clown shoes onto your feet, and a clown miraculously appeared in the form of Dawn, who had no clue as to how to get around on the darn things. Too proud to ask questions and too dumb to research the process on-line, I set out with grim determination on my shoulders. My first trek should have been followed by a film crew as I would have surely won the big prize in American’s Funniest Home Videos.
On this first endeavor I quickly learned a lot of Do’s and Don’ts. The first being: Do use ski poles for balance or wear long gloves. Balance has always been an issue and I quickly found out that wearing snowshoes put my balance to an extreme test. I happily trekked off behind my house through the deep snow until I took one brief misstep. Milliseconds later, I found myself armpit deep on my side floundering in the snow. Arising from my tomb was an entirely new and interesting maneuver but soon I was on my way again shaking snow out of my sleeves.
Stubborn determination and eternal optimism lead me to my next blunder. Don’t try to walk down a steep hill on your first walk or you will soon be “snowshoeskiing” at a rapid rate. Also, don’t forget to wear bib snowpants or as you are sliding on your butt downhill you will find snow in regions meant for much warmer hospitable treatment!
No one was watching this sideshow so I shook out the snowballs and stubbornly continued along my way…leading me to another don’t! Never, ever try to follow a deer trail through a cattail patch. Deer are much narrower in body and foot path than humans with huge boards strapped to their feet and at some point you are going to tangle said snowshoes in cattails and end upside down once again. No one told me the snow and cattails could be so deep right off the path. Nor did anyone tell me that it is nearly impossible to get yourself back upright when your feet are still way up there on the deer path and your body way down there deep in a soft bed of snowy fuzz.
Feeling much like a turtle stuck on its back with my feet the only part of my body still high upon the deer trail, I grabbed at the cattails to pull myself back up. This only produced clouds of fuzz rising high in the air much like the smoke signal I needed to send out for help. The thought of being found in this position in the spring along with the words “I’ve fallen and can’t get up!” sent me into hysterical laughter which was quickly choked off by the cloud of cattail fuzz raining down and entering my nostrils and lungs. After much huffing and hacking and sneezing and grunting, I finally emerged more or less intact (except for my dignity) and sporting a snazzy new coat of white.
Of course, what goes down must come back up and I quickly learned what the term “uphill battle” means along with don’t grab onto branches to pull yourself uphill unless you first check to see if they are alive. Dead branches easily break and are only useful for stabbing the offending snow and hillsides with frustration. Switchbacks quickly became my friend that day!
A sucker for punishment, I have since made many treks out onto the frozen tundra with webbed boards strapped to my feet. I’ve even come to enjoy this fine sport which takes me where no horse can go in the wintertime. Ski poles now balance me and smaller snowshoes better suited for brush and cattails and equipped with crampon-type claws for better traction up and downhill adorn my feet. My camera is now my companion and most of the time, I keep it safe from plunges into the deep snow. I capture flashes of red and gold as pheasants flush and deer as they snort and stomp, then run at my intrusion into their winter wonderland leaving behind gleaming white antlers shed in preparation for the spring to come.
