A lotta little all – or awe

16 04 2026

Tuesday was a wild and crazy day … and that was just the weather. It was ultimately a successful day, though at least one part left me shaking my head at, well, how life unfolds. And it was a reminder that sometimes the smallest things, and the simplest things, are the most enjoyable of all.

From yesterday’s post, are you wondering what graupel looks like? (Thanks, Valerie, for your comment that led to this post!)

What? I hear you asking. That looks like snow or rain, you’re saying (zoom in to see the streaks). Look on the ground in the lower right corner. I was backed in under a (dead) tree to sit out one wave of it (it wasn’t very hard, and it didn’t last long) at that little side “road” to Disappointment Road, which is across the whole pic. See the little white “balls”?

AI says this: “Graupel, or soft hail, forms when supercooled water droplets freeze onto falling snowflakes, creating soft, small white pellets (2-5 mm) that resemble Dippin’ Dots or Styrofoam. These fragile, slushy particles are often called snow pellets and, unlike hard hail, crumble easily. They occur during wintry mix scenarios, causing sudden, slick conditions, and are identified in aviation reports as ‘GS’.”

I liked this part: Types of Graupel
While commonly called graupel, it is sometimes referred to as: 

Matsaaruti: A term used in the Nunavik region of Canada to describe wet, soft snow pellets.

Snow Pellets

Soft Hail

Hominy Snow

I encourage you to Google “graupel” because there’s a lot more. Or check this NOAA description of hail types.

Another pic from the same location as the first pic, looking pretty much straight north at what I call west-of-favorite hill (because it’s, you know, west of what I call favorite hill, which I so-named because once upon a very long time ago, “the pintos” really favored that hill and could very often be found atop it).

Also from the same spot, looking eastish again as the graupel wave recedes, driven by a strong out-of-the-south wind (I lost track, but at least three, maybe four went over us Tuesday morning). You can see Brumley Point very distinctly, submarine ridge and McKenna Peak to the left it it, and you can’t quite make out Temple Butte. If you slide back up to the first pic, Temple Butte is juuuuuust barely visible at far left, just under the power lines. And yes, the sunshine IS coming back out over the rest of us while the wave pushes north to the east.

With Artemis II and its remarkable human beings on board, their mission, their accomplishments, the images they sent back, from space looking home, in mind … and realizing the absolute tiny-ness of this one itty-bitty part of our great, wide, wild, wonderful, big blue marble … ain’t Earth gorgeous? Now you can see Temple Butte’s promontory emerging from behind Brumley Point (see the graupel/moisture evidence shining below its rimrocks?) and submarine ridge and McKenna Peak. And though you can’t see them in this pic, there were two groups of mustangs out there. Across the road and on the other side of that fence IS Spring Creek Basin.

Anybody know what this prickly little caterpillar is called? I’m not sure of the plant it’s on, either.

I tried a lot, but I could NOT get the eye end (far left – is that an eye?) in focus. Of course, I didn’t know that in the field, not having my eyeball glasses on and looking through the glare of my phone screen, but I did try a number of shots with high hopes. One of our BLM range guys recently posted a pic of the same caterpillar, but he’s a plant guy (and an extraordinarily awesome one), not a bug guy, so I’m sure he can tell me the plant, if not the bug (!). If I reach him for an ID before this posts (or even after), I’ll update.

The reason you can’t see Utah’s La Sal Mountains in this pic – way northwest of Spring Creek Basin, from the very far southeastern part of Spring Creek Basin – is because the rain/graupel/snow wasn’t through sending waves over them. 🙂 You CAN see, from right to left, Round Top, Flat Top (looks sloping), Filly Peak and the south-facing rimrocks. Disappointment Road is over to the left somewhere (not far)

From here, we’re looking over not much of the southern part of Spring Creek Basin Herd Management Area (the pic above this one has a perspective to the right of this one) but a lot of the south/southwestern part of Disappointment Valley (most but not all of the pinon-juniper woodlands as far as the eye can see). The near pinon-juniper is within Spring Creek Basin.

From the same spot now looking back to the south/southeast at another little rain/snow/graupel-fall, toward the Glade and Benchmark Lookout (hi, Rick and Linda! (I think they’re not at the fire lookout tower quite yet)). The near hills and pinon-juniper are all within Spring Creek Basin. The far, thickly treed ridges are partly (middle-ish ground) part of upper Disappointment Valley and partly (farther) part of San Juan National Forest lands beyond Disappointment Valley and its watershed.

And what the heck was I doing at the high end of a long drop? See the horse trail? 🙂 I was following where the sure-footed have gone before me (and not for the first time).

The above are in order of how I took them … hours apart from first to last.

And because you came here for the mustangs …

Mysterium, modeling her scruffy-chic look (fashion designers, take note – ha!) below Temple Butte. 🙂 Yes, those are a couple of cuts on the inside of her left hind leg, but she’ll heal quickly, as mustangs do!

Thanks, as always, for coming along for glimpses of this special world. 🙂





How good he has it

15 04 2026

Flash wasn’t feeling the modeling, despite the brief window of gorgeous sunshine in a day filled with clouds, graupel, wind (always), more clouds, more graupel and more wind.

It – and he – was gorgeous. 🙂





Power napping

14 04 2026

In the wind.

It’s *always* windy in the spring in Southwest Colorado. … I’ve heard that about many locations in the West, so it’s not just here. And it’s not just this year. When we’re counting every drop of moisture, it’s as-usual hard to abide the wind, especially after nice rain events (which are few and far between this year, especially).

The mustangs make the most of it, of course, and it DOES keep the buggies away.





Snakey spring

13 04 2026

If you don’t like snakes, this post is not for you. Important note: No snake or human was harmed either hiking past or in the taking of these pix. 🙂

I’ve been looking for a particular band for about a week now. They showed up … then they disappeared again. That’s not unusual; even in only-22,000-acre Spring Creek Basin, there are lots of places for the ponies to roam out of sight of human eyes (and given the high ATV/UTV activity lately, including terrible, destructive off-road behavior, much better for them). But I was curious: Were they going south and taking advantage of the pond below/south of Round Top … or were they going deep east and taking advantage of the east-pocket pond? I’d seen water glinting in the RT pond a couple of weeks ago, but because of the very rough road and lack of loop access (because of bad washouts), I don’t often go back as far as the east pocket anymore (which is too bad because it’s one of my favorite areas of the basin).

So curiosity led to a hike up to the tip-top of Round Top. … From the bottom, I always say, “I’ll just go to the ‘bench’ and look from there … and then, if I don’t see anybody, I’ll complete the trek up to the top.” So that’s what I did. … You know I didn’t see anybody from the bench (well, I did see one band, but I knew where to look for them) and had to go all the way up. 🙂 It’s not a bad hike, and it’s really not long, and it does lift you high above the basin and gives TREMENDOUS views, and I love it up there. So I really need to do it more often. (According to my Strava details, it’s only 1.46 miles up and back, with an elevation gain of almost 360 feet, which included my brief stroll around the top to glass.)

I like to go to the different directions at the top – amazingly, it’s not that big – sit and glass. Not only is it fun to look for mustangs, but I like to reminisce about all the hikes I’ve done here, there and (almost) everywhere to find and get to them!

So I’d done my looking, and I’d even done some seeing of various bands that I’d already seen from “ground level.” But I didn’t see the particular band I wanted to see. To be fair, the view to the south is a lot more wide open than to the north/east/northeastish, so I was pretty sure they weren’t south at all.

The hike is enough of an exertion that you want to take your time at the top, and I’ve learned that if I *wait* and don’t get too impatient, something – or somebodies – might reveal itself or themselves.

Bingo. 🙂 I had stood up and stepped a few steps when I looked back *one last time*. It’s always that *one last time* when you see what you want to see! Way up in the east pocket. Boom; ponies. So I started the trek back down, half-running, eyes glued to the trail so I didn’t miss my footing. … I was within 40 yards (?) of the end of the trail and end of the road (which is where the trail starts, and this is a horse/deer/elk trail, not a trail-trail) when I heard the soft rattle.

It took a moment for the sound to reach my ears, to reach my brain, for my brain to process it, for me to stop my thoughts-elsewhere forward rush and to look back at the bush (small, a four-wing saltbush, maybe) I’d just passed. Was it entwined around the base? Uh, no. Then I spotted it. (I think I’ve written enough to warn you if you’re at all snake-squeamish??)

Do you see it?

The trail here looks more like a bit of an erosion channel than what most people think of as a *trail*. The pic is looking UP the trail – the trailhead (so to speak) is about 40 yards behind me – and I had come DOWN the trail. The bush isn’t included in this pic, but you can see the faint shadow of it over the rattler. The rock is immediately on the left side of the trail.

Because I was on a scouting mission to the top of Round Top, I had taken my binocs but not my camera, with its very long, very safe lens. So I took a pic first from “behind” the snake.

It seemed pretty relaxed, so I chanced a front version (you know, you CAN also zoom in with your phone camera!).

Interestingly about our little rattlers out here, you can see by its buttons that it’s not a super young snake. What you really maybe can’t tell from the pix (and no, I wasn’t going to put my hand out for a side-by-side comparison! oh, you silly readers! :)) is that it probably wasn’t more than a foot long. The rock in the first pic is bigger than my two fists held together.

What we have are the midget faded rattlesnakes (“western rattlesnakes”) or faded midget rattlesnakes (the recovering copy editor in me can’t stand non-consistent identifications! Looking at you, CPW). Check out this link to information from Colorado Parks and Wildlife … or this one from the Southeastern Hot Herp Society, written by an undergraduate student at Oklahoma State University. I was particularly interested in this little tidbit from the latter article: “The venom of the Midget Faded Rattlesnake is composed of a much higher neurotoxin than one would assume. … In fact concolor is the most toxic out of the (Western Rattlesnake clade, Crotalus oreganus).”

To paraphrase my dad (who likes bears): DO NOT MOLEST THE MIDGET FADED WESTERN RATTLESNAKES!

Seriously. I love them … from afar. 🙂 And in my experience, they are very (anthropomorphism alert) forgiving of random, idiot humans who nearly step on them in a brainless rush. … Pay attention out there. Every wild being and wild place deserves respect.

And because my day had an extremely happy ending, I’ll end it with this:

What an ending, right? 🙂 (And yes, I did find the ponies, and they’ll grace the blog in future posts.)





Never far away

12 04 2026

Alegre (near) and Maia (not too far). Mother and daughter. Still closely bonded.





Catching the light

11 04 2026

Alegre does the slow saunter through the greasewood. She’d been grazing away from the band, and I took advantage of waiting for her to catch up, catching her as she walked through the backlighting and past the mountains.





Shedding the scruff

10 04 2026

I’m rarely out in Spring Creek Basin during midday, but sometimes, needs (and other scheduled events) must.

The heat waves were tremendous (argh – this warm this early is not cool (!)), but isn’t scruffy Corazon looking handsome as he transitions from his winter coat to his summer sleek!?





Subtle green

9 04 2026

There!

See the green?

The mustangs (including Buckeye) are chasing it everywhere. 🙂





Exuberant

8 04 2026

Maia.

Muddy, beautiful, gorgeous girl. 🙂





Meadowlark moon

7 04 2026

OK. I might have a new contender for favorite meadowlark – any bird, really – image!

This meadowlark was singing his heart out as the moon set in the southwestern sky Monday morning.