Winter has released its grip over the Eastern Sierra. The deer migration up to high pastures has begun.

The herd depends on me.  I cannot miss any errant odor, the slight crack of a leaf's spine, a rustling--all could put the herd in peril.   We survived winter and have to keep going so I remain vigilant.

I have the exuberance of youth!  Survived winter and now relish in the migration to new lands, smell, and tastes for me.   I have a lot to learn, but take it in stride for now.