This morning on my early get-out-there-before-it-gets-ugly-hot bike ride, I managed to beat the "heat alert" extremes, and got a huge reward. Not only did I not get hot, I also reaped a nature bonanza.
As I pulled my car onto my usual lane near Grant's Trail, a dog...no, wait...a coyote crossed from the grounds of Cor Jesu Academy to the open field near the community ball fields. Rather than unracking my Road Warrior II--I call her Sweet Mama Ride--I froze, hoping not to startle this way too healthy coyote. He stood there himself for a moment, determining if I were a threat, looking quite remarkable. I've seen coyotes when biking here in St. Louis -- one right down by the Arch of all places -- but this one was big. Clearly, the field where he lithely vaulted the 4-foot fence was a paradise of ground critters that were just the right tasty size. How terrific to be up early enough to beat the heat and to see a coyote!
My bike route, a 16-mile trek, forces me to do eight miles and then return on the same dedicated, asphalt path. I like the smooth asphalt. I love that there are no cars. I love the Clydesdales that graze in their suburban paddock at the north end of the trail. They often stand in packs of four, shoulder to shoulder, each dipping their heads to the grass at their feet in unison, as if trained quadruplets. The lack of loop in the trail does, however, get a bit tedious.
Further down the trail, I often take a half-mile spur path through the woods near Clydesdale Park. It follows a segment of Gravois Creek and affords complete shade and a 10-degree drop in temperature. It's my favorite part of the ride. Sweet Mama Ride likes it because it snakes back and forth and allows a cruise with some variety different from the straight railroad bed that is Grant's Trail.
Squirrels were everywhere as well as baby bunnies and fledgling cardinals. Standing still in the path ahead of me was a critter. I instructed aloud, "Look out, little guy." He paused and looked at me as I slowed way down, realizing this was neither a bunny nor a squirrel. Oh my gosh, a WEASEL! This little guy was sleek and slender...maybe about 14 inches or so from the tip of his nose to the tip of his long tail. That noodly long body was no squirrel body. He was unmistakably a weasel.
Tempted to stop where he slithered off into the weeds, I thought perhaps I should leave a piece of a Clif Bar that I had left in my bike pack. No, no, no....critters need not eat weird human food. Weasels with Clif bars...just plain sounds wrong.
On my return mileage, I was amazed to see Coyote Catholic (I've named him now, since he merits a true identity with all his suburban survivor savvy.) was standing in the middle of the field just off Gravois Rd. across from General Grant's log home. Nonplussed by bikers and walkers and Sunday morning traffic, the coyote shared his moment with me again and carried on with his critter hunting. His purpose seemed intent. I wondered what he'd been doing over at Cor Jesu...what had drawn him to a Catholic girls' school. Perhaps he was a she. Perhaps she had chatted with the county cop who'd been parked in the school driveway earlier. I marveled that not a single walker nor biker noticed CC. Her presence was our own little secret.
It is here, as a teacher of writing, that I share my Sunday morning observations. It's my ninth ride in the last ten days, as I train to ride in Iowa's RAGBRAI in late July. I've accrued 142 miles in these ten days. All that is pretty measly, given RAGBRAI will require me to rack up at least 55 per day. On the one hand, every little bit of mileage helps get me back in shape. Nothing, however, absolutely nothing is more motivating than getting a dose of wild critters in the process and now a chance to chronicle those moments.
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