Run, rabbit, run

Miles, Wyatt and Reese on a treeless ridge in Arapaho National Forest.

The jackrabbit is a magnificent creature to see in motion. At rest, it appears gangly, all ears and legs. At full speed, it is a natural-born racer, sprinting with graceful precision.

Reese the dog: not quite jackrabbit-fast.
Reese the dog: not quite jackrabbit-fast.

On a recent day in Arapaho National Forest just northeast of Silverthorne, Reese stirred a white-tailed jackrabbit, which led the dogs on a brief but rousing chase through a broad meadow. The rabbit moved with haste, zigging around errant boulders, zagging around patches of autumn-dried weeds and fading wildflowers. The dogs followed with purpose, but could not match the jackrabbit’s stamina or familiarity with the terrain.

The rabbit soon vanished amid a patch of aspen and pine, which was fueled by a stream that is merely a trickle this time of year. The otherwise isolated thicket was filled with the chatter and scurrying of chipmunks and squirrels making their autumnal preparations. The breeze already carried a hint of the lurking winter.

A lone tree–Colorado’s own Bodhi Tree?–on a hillside in Arapaho National Forest.

One chase over, the dogs turned their attention to interrupting the labor of the chipmunks, who chirped their annoyance from the sanctuary of rocks and trees.

Wyatt in the gloaming.
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