Note: I’m continuing to write blogs to hopefully get me back to writing for the memoir. Everyday, I feel a little more like myself and get a little closer to writing for the memoir. Maybe my writing hasn’t sucked even though I haven’t felt like myself in months, and still feel like I’m still in a fog. But, I’m my worst critic and probably always will be. In other words, I should probably keep my negative opinions about my writing to myself and let y’all be the judges here. 

I’m blessed enough to live in a neighborhood with access to private hiking trails reserved for the residents. I don’t live in Ken Caryl Valley. I live in the older part of the neighborhood on the plains, also known as Ken Caryl Plains. Both neighborhoods are part of Ken Caryl Ranch, which means I can access the same hiking trails, pools, fishing ponds, and horse stables as those living in the million dollar homes in the foothills. The park across the street from my house is also private. But because there aren’t a bunch of gates and “no trespassing” signs warning those who aren’t residents, or aren’t accompanied by a resident of Ken Caryl Ranch, to stay away, people come from all over to invade the park. 

Rangers and volunteers don’t patrol the park for some reason. They should, but they’re much more worried about protecting the hiking trails mostly used by the pretentious millionaires in the valley, than the neighborhood park mostly used by us “poor” people living on the plains. Still, I’m less than a five minute drive from the valley, assuming I don’t hit every red light along the way. So, it’s easy for me to get away from people and into the wilderness whenever I like. 

I didn’t go to the valley very often to get my exercise in, even after I figured out that I liked it. If the weather permitted it, I was outside at my own park or walking around the lake at Clement park, waiting for it to thaw out so I could go fishing. I also enjoyed hitting the gas station for a snack and a drink every time I went somewhere, and there isn’t an easily accessible gas station between my house and the trails in Ken Caryl Valley. 

These days, due to the new coronavirus pandemic, our state and county governments have implemented strict rules to curb the spread of the virus in the state. Parks and hiking trails are still open, but playgrounds, baseball diamonds, tennis and basketball courts, and picnic areas are all closed to the public. Since so many people don’t have work or school at the moment, they’re spending a lot of time outside, especially at the park across the street from my house. Since this pandemic began, I’ve constantly seen people playing and picnicking in the soccer field and walking around on the narrow sidewalks, completely disregarding the six-foot rule. It sucks that people just don’t care. I’d like to hang out at my local park again, but every time I look out my kitchen or dining room windows, I see lots of people outside being total idiots. 

However, during the day, I still need my exercise and outdoor time, even though I can’t really go to the park unless I want to get everyone else’s viruses. So, Mom and my therapist agreed to “force” me to go for a hike alone everyday, so long as the weather permitted it. Every week, we get a Ken Caryl Ranch newspaper that talks about all the cool things the neighborhood has to offer, what kinds of wildlife that’s been recently spotted, and also has a map showing all the private hiking trails in the neighborhood. I decided to look over the map to see if there were any trails I’d like to hit that weren’t too busy, but weren’t too isolated either. As much as I cherish being alone in the wilderness, I also like to be safe and smart. 

I called up my great uncle Courtney to ask for his advice on what to do if I encountered a predator, and ended up leaving my house with my sheathed bowie knife and an extra hoodie to wave around, in case a wild animal came too close for comfort. Even if it seemed friendly, I still wanted to keep my distance. Most of the time, if a deer comes walking up to you, it’s got something seriously wrong with it. The early stages of rabies, Chronic Wasting Disease, and brain worms often cause the animal to lose its fear of humans without being aggressive or showing signs of illness. Either that, or people feed them, which is not a good thing either. Deer usually aren’t aggressive, but they’re still wild animals that should maintain their fear of people. 

Also, as safe and populated as the valley is, there are predators roaming the neighborhood too. Every fall and spring, park rangers set up signs in Ken Caryl Ranch to remind us that bears like to eat trash, and will venture several miles east in search of it. And, every now and then, park rangers will receive reports of mountain cougar sightings, and put posters up on the bulletin boards near every trailhead, telling us to be careful and instructing us on what to do if we run into a mountain cougar. There are also a lot of coyotes roaming the neighborhood. I’ve seen plenty of them, and almost ended up plowing into one the other day, but thankfully I narrowly avoided having to pull over and peel a mangled coyote out of my truck’s grill. 

It took me less than five minutes to drive from my house to the trailhead I chose. It was easy to access. I just followed Ken Caryl Avenue into the valley and turned into a little parking lot on the side of the road. When I parked, there was only one other car there, and nobody else in sight. So, I got out, made sure I had everything I needed safely stowed in my hoodie pockets, locked up my truck so nobody could break in and steal my stash of my favorite gum, and headed northwest towards the trail. 

Giant red signs were posted everywhere by the trailhead, telling non-residents to take a hike elsewhere, which further comforted me. They meant the trails wouldn’t be packed if there was anyone on them at all. Plus, as a resident of Ken Caryl Ranch, I had every right to be on those trails. If a ranger questioned me, all I had to do was give them my address, and I’d be allowed to continue. 

Once I passed the trailhead, the natural world opened up to me. The valley was treeless, except for some barren, grey trees to the left on the western side, and an occasional red cedar to my right. Tiny blades of green, new grass were already starting to sprout above the flattened, dead grass from the winter before. Chalky red and beige boulders covered in spotty lichen protruded from the earth. The sky was clear except for a few wispy clouds here and there, and it was very warm except for a cool, gusty breeze. I felt right at home in that valley. It was so quiet and peaceful that, for a brief moment, I was taken back to my hunting trips, specifically the turkey hunt, which took place in a very similar environment. Only, the weather was actually very nice during my hike, while the weather during my hunting trips, especially during my wild turkey hunt, really, really sucked. 

I also felt a little sad about missing out on last year’s hunting season, and it sounds like hunting will be harder to do this year too. Outdoor Buddies had to really restrict who could go hunting with them during the fall due to the pandemic, since they expect the pandemic to resume in the fall if it slows down in the summer. So, I wasn’t picked to go. Hopefully, I’ll be able to snag a few Nebraska deer tags, assuming out-of-state hunters aren’t banned by then to discourage traveling. I would be in Nebraska for turkey hunting in a few weeks if people didn’t panic-buy every gun and box of ammo in the country, or if strict lockdowns weren't implemented. But, sometimes, that’s just how life works. I’ll hunt again soon. Maybe I’ll have to sit out another year, or maybe, just maybe, I’ll harvest a Nebraska whitetail this fall with my .243.

Anyway.

I only saw the occasional hiker and mountain biker as I hiked further and further up the trail. The people I saw made sure to respect my space as I did theirs. Either I stepped off the trail, or they did, or we both did on opposite sides. I was pleasantly shocked by people’s courtesy and caution. However, for most of the time I was on the trail, I was completely alone, with not a soul in sight in front of me, behind me, to my left, or to my right. But, there was plenty of wildlife running around. 

Mule deer were literally everywhere. They congregated in huge herds, taking advantage of the warm, sunny weather to graze on the tiny new blades of grass in the valley. Some were relaxing in the shade of the barren trees to the west. Others were playfully bounding across the mountainsides, chasing each other and just letting go of some excess energy. Most of them didn’t have antlers, but I saw a few bucks who still had their antlers. I saw several forkies (four-point bucks. Two points on each antler that give it a forked appearance), and one presumably six-point buck who had shed only one antler, and was yet to give up the other one. The rest looked like does, but they could’ve also been bucks that had shed their antlers. Does and bucks tend to be roughly the same size. The bucks are usually a little bigger, but it’s hard to tell just by looking at them. 

Aside from deer, there were lots of blue jays, magpies, robins, crows, sparrows, swallows, red-tailed hawks, and even a couple of bald eagles. There were also lots of other birds, but I either couldn’t tell or knew what they were. I didn’t see any waterfowl, but that’s probably because there wasn’t any water nearby for those birds to hang out in. If I wanted to see geese, cranes, mallards, and wood ducks, I could go to the fishing pond in my neck of the woods and observe them there. However, like I mentioned, people don’t respect the private park rules on the plains like they respect the rules in the foothills. So, it may be awhile before I can visit with those birds uninterrupted. 

I hiked almost two miles in before I decided to turn around. But, just before I did, my dad called me. There’s strong cell service on most of the trails in Ken Caryl (which is another reason why I feel comfortable hiking there alone), so I had no trouble talking and texting with people. I spent a good half-hour just talking to my dad. I tried to put him on speaker so I could pay better attention to my surroundings, but he couldn’t hear me over the wind, which was starting to pick up as a few clouds blocked the sun. 

So, I put the phone to my ear and talked to him while I prowled around in circles in the grass, making sure I spoke loudly and scanned the wilderness around me for any signs of danger. After all, Ken Caryl Valley is mountain cougar territory. And, they’ve already been spotted prowling the streets of Boulder, Colorado shortly after the city went into lockdown. That makes me a little nervous about what might be coming to my backyard in the near future. 

My dad has been self-quarantining for nearly two weeks, and said he was feeling healthy as ever despite being in California when the pandemic really took off there. Still, seeing each other likely wasn’t an option due to the governor’s orders to stay at home and away from other people outside of one’s household. But, at least my dad was feeling good and I was feeling good, even though we were both stressed out. Luckily, Dad was able to work completely from home which remarkably meant he had even more work to do. I'm not quite sure how that worked, but I assumed that he just Skyped in with his coworkers instead of traveling all over the place to meet with them. He was hoping he could make a lot more money during the pandemic without all the traveling, so by the time the pandemic was over, he might be able to buy a house and go on a nice vacation or two. 

I appreciated my dad’s optimism and good news, although I did admit that things weren’t exactly going well at my house. The real estate market has gone to complete shit, and we have to completely rely on our savings until things get better, which has been really scary. While Mom and I are sure we’ll make it just fine, the thought of losing thousands of dollars due to the pandemic is still very upsetting. It also means we’ll have to cancel all of our non-essential payments, including my car insurance, if things drag on for too long.

At least Mom and I still have our monthly salaries, even if we don’t have work. But, Mom will likely lose all of her rent money and spend most of her salary on the mortgages of each house she owns, until things get better. While we believe things will pick up again during the summer, we don’t expect it to pick up very fast, and we expect it to dip again in the fall and winter months. It sucks, but at least we understand that the lockdowns are necessary to keep people like myself and my grandparents healthy and alive. After all, we can't economically recover very well if a good chunk of us die. 

After my phone call with Dad, I decided to head back to my truck. I was getting cold thanks to the clouds and the wind. Besides that, I was pretty far away from where I parked, and I wanted to get home for dinner. As I walked, I noticed there were lots more people than before. There still weren’t many people. I was alone most of the walk back. But, every few minutes, someone would carefully pass me, or I’d see them on a trail that zig-zagged up to the top of the foothills to my west. I wanted to see what the views were like up there, but decided to put that off for a different day. I had plenty of time on my hands to explore the other trails, especially since everyone was on lockdown. 

When I was about a half mile away from where I parked, I noticed some movement on the trail far ahead of me. The thing was small, on all fours, and charging straight at me. I kept walking, but I slowed down as the thing grew closer. When it was about an eighth of a mile away from me, I realized that it was a large coyote. Most coyotes don’t get bigger than thirty pounds. But the coyote that was coming after me had to have been at least forty pounds. 

He was beefy and fluffy, and was running towards with his mouth open, tongue hanging out, and ears aimed at me. I put my hand on my bowie knife and prepared to use it if I had to. When the coyote was about thirty yards or so away from me, he stopped dead in his tracks, stared at me for a few seconds, and then trotted back the way he came before veering off the trail to hide in the brush to the west.

I stood still and watched him just to make sure he was not a threat. Even big coyotes are small when compared to someone my size (especially now that I’m 132 pounds on an empty stomach, and my daily push-ups and sit-ups are starting to pay off), but they can get dangerously brazen sometimes, especially if they’re used to people. That coyote looked like he lived off of neighborhood cats and moldy leftovers, so it made sense that he wasn’t as afraid of people as I would’ve wanted him to be. 

I wasn’t afraid of him, in the sense that I was worried he would somehow overpower me and eat me. But, I really wasn’t in the mood to fight a coyote to the death and risk getting bit. I know the coronavirus pandemic is on everyone’s minds, but coyotes carry all sorts of fun diseases that are much, much worse than covid-19. Nothin’ like practicing the right precautions to avoid covid-19 and influenza, only to end up in the hospital with a gnarly case of rabies!

After that little encounter, I continued on my way. I passed by a few more people, before hiking up to the crest of a gentle hill, only to stumble upon a huge herd of muleys about twenty yards east of me. The wind was blowing against my face, so the deer didn’t smell me before they saw me. Not that would really matter. Those things are basically pets at this point. They live in Ken Caryl Valley. They’re pretty safe from large predators in the valley and people probably feed them. Of course, that leads to a handful of issues, including overpopulation, that I could rant about until the cows come home. But, that’s a rant for another time.

When the deer finally noticed me, most of them really didn’t care. A few of them paid attention to me. Their huge ears that gave them the name “mule deer” were aimed at me, and their heads turned to track me as I moved. But, the older deer weren’t bothered by me at all. Pretty soon, the younger deer let their guard down and continued grazing. As I walked, the herd seemed to be walking right along with me. They maintained their distance, for the most part. But, they walked at the same speed as I did. When the terrain they were on got a little steep, they moved closer to me. 

That’s when most of the deer stopped to stare at me, just to ensure I wasn’t a predator. To be honest, I am a predator to deer. But, I’m also a hunter, not a poacher. I’m not gonna shoot a muley out of hunting season in a residential hiking area, even though muley backstraps are to die for, and Ken Caryl Valley could use a few less deer. When most of the deer figured out I wasn’t a threat, they moved quite a bit closer to me. They still were about fifteen to twenty yards away, but, for wildlife as skittish as deer typically are, that’s really, really close. Like I said, the deer in Ken Caryl Valley are basically pets. They won’t get spooked unless you deliberately spook them. 

One antlerless deer (I say “antlerless” instead of “doe” because many deer have already shed their antlers, or are in the process of shedding them this time of year, and most of the time, does don’t have antlers), decided to break off from the large herd, taking several other deer with it. They gracefully bounded along the mountainside towards a shaded ditch. It wasn’t long before a buck with one remaining antler noticed the antlerless deer moving away, and decided to trot after them. They were likely all does, and bucks don’t like to lose any of their does. If one doe of a herd of 100 does decides she hasn’t had enough boyfriend time and leaves, the buck will leave his 99 other does to chase his 100th girlfriend down, even if that means another buck could come by and steal his other 99 girlfriends. 

Before long, the entire herd decided to follow in the hoof prints of that one lone doe. I simply stood still and silent, watching the deer disappear into the ditch one-by-one, until only a single forky remained. He paused on the crest of the ditch, glanced at me one last time, and then trotted down to join the others. 

Almost as soon as that last deer disappeared into the brush, an uncomfortably large family noisily came around the bend. I took that as a cue to get the hell out of dodge. I headed twenty feet into the western field and waited for the group to move on before I stepped back onto the trail, but not before I was sure their nasty air was long gone so I didn’t breathe it in. Thankfully, as soon as they were gone and the wind carried their germs far away, I managed to get to my truck before any other large groups of people came my way, although the parking lot was nearly full by the time I got back.

At least I had some alone time in the wilderness before the large, irritating families flooded in and ruined the serenity of that beautiful golden valley. Once I sat down in the driver’s seat and began to empty my pockets, I discovered my uncle Courtney texted, “While you’re out there (in the valley), remember that one out of every three times you’re in the wilderness, a mountain lion’s watching you.” 

I hope that was a joke.