“I  See”

          Over the years non-snowmobiling friends of mine have asked me; “why do you do it” or, “what do you see out there” and when I try to tell them they just sit there and still don’t understand it or believe it.  During the week of Christmas ’07 I had the opportunity to go riding on three different days when the trail system and surrounding landscape just teemed with nature, beauty and activity.

          Riding over the trails, I saw squirrels run across, run back, grab a tree, quick hide for safety, and maybe all I saw when we went by was a tuft of tail.  Rabbits come out of the brush and do their dance; zigging this way, zagging that way unable to make up their minds where to go while the precious seconds tick away and then off they go with a half second to spare; another hare who made it by a hair.  Further on a barn cat comes hulking out onto the trail.  He has the big body, the big face and it makes me wonder if it is one of those spooky Tomcats who made a farm dog’s hair stand up or made farmers tell the kids to stay in the house.  He had size and had the bad boy look of long ago ancestral predators. 

          Oaks, birch, maple and snow laden evergreens standing with other species of trees provide the habitat, safety or roosts for natures’ winged.  Birds are seen flitting here flying there and feeding near the bins and feedlots.  Hawks are higher up setting, circling, gliding or diving as they look for or spot a meal.  Maybe the sled pushes a rodent out of a burrow for them.  A lone bald eagle flaps off his roost and heads out over the land while smaller birds and animals beware.  Every so often I’ll see crows up ahead pecking at something on the trail or just under the snow.  Maybe the scavenger is cleaning up a rabbit, squirrel or mouse that should have had better instincts.  Often when one rounds a corner or pops over a knoll there will be a clutch of turkeys in the trail where it’s easier to walk.  A bird that can run so fast on ground is so slow in the snow as they run till the leader lifts off and then they all lumber aloft.  Mostly though you’ll see them off in a field buttering their bread and taking a farmer’s bread and butter.

          Through the fields, across a bridged stream, over a knob, around a corner and up into a draw; there stand three or more dozen deer pawing through the snow to reach the alfalfa.  Heads jerk up, ears prick up, a nervous step or two and then they’re off showing you their backsides while they flick up their namesake; Whitetail.  Sometimes they’re standing ahead on the trail, other times they jump out or run across; either way we’re no match for the surprise or the mass should we not be mindful.

          The bike trails are for everyone so you’ll see man’s best friend out there; some on a leash and some not, some big some small, some passive some lunging, some silent some loud and still others muzzled.  My favorite trail dog experience was down in the backwoods between Hillsboro and Wonewoc.  There was this little stretch of ditch opposite a couple houses and I had just passed when I heard a nippy barking so close it was like wearing a headset.  I stopped, turned and there he was; a seven and a half pound white poodle standing there all puffed up and proud as he protected the neighborhood and drove me off.  My smile must have showed through the helmet.  The men and women who tend to their dogs squat down with them sometimes while they give us a hopeful or understanding look, a grateful look or maybe some of them stare or glare at us like their dogs do.  Some have it all under control and some need Caesar Milan.  Either way courtesy goes a long way both ways.  Through all of this the beef cattle and horses along the way don’t even bother to look up anymore.

          I see all different types of people.  There are the bartenders/short order cooks who treat us like royalty as they scurry about covering the rush.  Gas station cashiers are happy to see us and hopeful we like the trails in their system.  Sledheads are out there with new or old iron and new or old gear, but they’re out there.  The most memorable people I met on the trail recently were down in the Kendall area.  We were coming up a long stretch when up ahead were two sleds pulled over with the hoods up.  Not good.  I pulled over.  I surveyed the scene.  There they stood grinning at me and it was obvious they were neither yuppies nor dentists.  They had week-old beards and were wearing stocking caps with most of the chaff blown off.  A pair of Luckies dangled from their shit eatin grins as they stood there with hands in torn blue jean pockets.  One wore a weathered barn coat and had his barn door open while the other shouldered a faded blue coat made of down comforter that came down to his knees.  One rode an old Indy with trailing arms and the other rode pogo sticks with four lunger power.  Lying on top of their cylinder heads were cloth yellow and red Co-op gloves nestled around the spark plugs.  Somebody had to say something so since I was speechless they spoke:  “We’re O.K.”  “Just warmin up some.”  “Fancy sleds you got there.”  Then, grins with gaps from both of them.  I gave ‘em both a thumbs up and away we went.

          Along the way I see all type of shelter; those the beginning pioneers and settlers built, the shops the early town businessmen located in, to the new modern retail and manufacturing facilities.  There are the old and new barns and out buildings, old abandoned gas stations and every once in a while a woodshed, windmill or outhouse.  The countryside is dotted with new homes built to satisfy the craving for privacy with a setting.  The trail systems we enjoy include the rail grades, bridges, tunnels, bypasses, renovated depots and so much more.  We are linked to a myriad of what we see, feel and enjoy.

          Among the coulees, valleys, ridge tops and bluffs I’ve seen sleepy towns and bustling communities, I’ve seen properties with all manner of architecture, wildlife, animals or agriculture and I’ve seen others that are spent or forgotten and still others whose owner’s must be away for the winter since a gate is across in front of the unplowed summer cabin home.  I see the landscape, nature, wildlife and life all worthy of the touch of Art Anderson’s hand.  Do you see what I see?

                                                                   Karl Brickl