Patchy snow dusted fifteen inches of solid, clear ice. By 1:00 p.m., the arm was dotted with ice fishing shelters, snow machines and both vacant and active fishing camps. Our friends new to ice fishing tentatively stood at ice edge and watched as some of us strode confidently onto the lake.
Just the other day I drove through an agricultural area near St. George and saw something I’d never expect in Utah: a white-tailed kite, sitting in a tree and begging to be photographed.
Fall is a transitional time for a biologist. It’s also one of my favorite times of year. The season begins amid a frenzy of fieldwork and ends with days behind the desk. The transition between these two modes of work is anything but gradual and naturally anything but boring.