Summer had finally come to a screeching halt in late October, thanks to a very fast-moving cold front, which blew away the heat and frosted the land in a thin layer of snow.
Excited that cold weather had finally arrived, I rushed to pull on a pair of Ugg boots and my fluffy sherpa, then raced my Xterra into the valley. Unfortunately, the semester had been kicking my ass with speeches and midterms, so I didn’t feel up to hiking far. But, I still needed some time alone in God’s untouched creation, away from my coursework and email inbox.
There’s a small trail on the northernmost side of the valley, that snakes between Ken Caryl Valley neighborhood and the Willow Springs neighborhood towards God's Ass, with a rusty wire fence splitting the Ken Caryl land from the Willow Springs land. While narrow and barely forty yards away from the nearest houses, the trail’s sheltered from society by large sandstone plates, thickets of gamble oaks, and dense groves of Ponderosa pines. Due to being so close to so many houses, that trail is a haven for birds of all kinds, who don’t have to fly far between their nests and the birdfeeders. Needless to say, it’s a place I go to birdwatch and immerse myself in nature without having to hike a half-mile or more away from the houses and roads.
Only a hundred yards or so away from the cul-de-sac where I parked my Xterra, I found my usual spot upon a well-worn sandstone plate, hidden within the shelter of several large Ponderosa pines, right where the wire fence runs between the two neighborhoods. I sat down with my knees close to my chest and my back resting up against a fencepost, and then I just… relaxed.
I took a moment to center myself, noticing as my muscles released and my heart rate slowed down. I almost felt sleepy, but I was actually more awake than before. The more my body physically relaxed, the more I tuned into my surroundings and could hear the slightest of noises. Nothing startling. Just the peaceful noises of the wilderness very few people tend to notice.
Within the sounds of shriveled dried leaves falling off Gambel branches, and the ambience of a very light breeze hissing through the foliage, I heard a much more rhythmic tapping just behind me. It sounded like rain but was more... consistent, for lack of better words. Slowly and silently, I turned to face the noise over my right shoulder. Just a tree away from me, a male Downy Woodpecker was hard at work, tapping Gambel twigs in search of food and nesting materials to survive the coming winter.
Carefully, I turned my body around and got down in a prone position to get a closer, more comfortable look at the little creature. He didn’t seem to notice me. In fact, he fluttered much closer to me, onto a branch less than five yards from my face. I kept still and silent as I watched that little black-and-white bird scour the entire branch for food. He was pecking it in hopes of finding grubs hiding just underneath the bark.
Occasionally, he'd pause to chirp or look around. Like all small birds, his movements were incredibly fast and jerky. He never lost his grip on the twigs even when he hung upside down, defying gravity. Every now and then, he'd find a soft spot in the twigs to peck a few more times. I even got to see him successfully pull a little worm-like thing out of a twig and slurp it down in one quick motion. Afterwards, he immediately resumed his hunt for more.
After several minutes of lying in the same exact position, my knees were beginning to go numb from supporting my weight against the sandstone. As gently as I could, I shifted my weight, spooking the little bird in the process. Fortunately, he didn't fly too far. He put a small Ponderosa tree between myself and him, then continued pecking the twigs of another Gambel Oak for food.
