A couple Mondays ago my youngest daughter came rushing into the house. She'd seen a really cool bird in the backyard. But even better, she'd seen it swoop down and scoop up a mouse right off the snow and fly away with it! Practically vibrating with excitement, now she wanted to know what kind of bird it was.
I pulled out the bird book and had her go through it. She thinks it was a horned owl. And to think she'd been in exactly the right place at the right time to witness it catching its dinner. I was a little envious.
Then she told me she'd also seen the tracks of the mouse trail and the owl's wings. Wait, tracks? Tracks??
There were TRACKS?
This I wanted to see.
So we went out, and although it was getting a little dark and the flurries were starting to fill them in, there was the whole incident laid out as an impression in the snow.
What a story those impressions told. We snapped a few photos and once again marvelled at how lucky she was to have seen that.
Of course, the snow impressions are now gone, but I'm hoping the impression they left on my daughter will last a lifetime.