Dear Papa Bear,
Jared had to be at work early this morning so I thought I would drive up the road we will get to live on. It shoots up a canyon 35 miles, following the Frying Pan River. I drove until I ran out of paved road and was getting close to tree line.
I saw two muleys (the one on the right had big buttons in velvet) and three marmots sunning themselves on a rock. While I was driving back down the valley I saw a black bear before he dashed into the river thicket (maybe my presence wouldn’t have been so alarming to him if he hadn’t been in the middle of the road?). I stopped and read the interpretive sign about the Calcium Kilns (I took a photo so you can read each word, too). I scouted out all the rustic campgrounds.
Every time I see a flock of flying birds I can identify if they might be geese or ducks by the rhythm of their wing beats. I always count each bird and shout out the tally, even when we’re not together. I can see turkeys in meadows and deer in thickets. Daddy, thanks for teaching me to see and respect these. Thanks for all those frigid mornings in a bird blind, all the late nights shining for deer, all the times you showed me how to quietly dip my paddle into the water so we could see the most wildlife. Thanks for bringing buckets when we went camping so we could fill them with baby toads. Thanks for seasoning us and teaching us about the outdoors.
We haven’t even moved in yet, and I’m already so excited for you to visit.