What do you do for fun in February when you can't ski or ride?

Well, of course, you must MUD!

Because the doofuses are not content to lay about on the futon all day like this:

No, at around 2:00pm they tend to stare at me and eventually guilt trip me into taking them outside to one trail or another.  We no longer go for walks near our house, because (a) they are a nightmare on-leash, since they have to sniff every goddamn thing, and (2) if I let them off leash Paddington will catch and kill another duck, probably while horrified schoolchildren look on.

(Side note: the ducks here are defective.  They don't fly away when Paddington swims after them, they dive and swim like two feet and come back up, at which point Paddington sees them and grabs them.  Back in Colorado, the ducks would just sort of roll their eyes, take off and fly to the other side of the pond, and Paddington would get tired and come back.)

Luckily for us, there are several options for hikes in the near vicinity of Pocatello.  The trails tend to be pretty empty during the day, too, because all the Mormons are gainfully employed and everyone else is at home collecting disability checks for their smoking-related health issues and morbid obesity.

(I'm sorry, that was mean.  Unfortunately it's also pretty close to the truth out here in LDS country.)

For most of the winter, the trails were in decent shape for hiking, and even for biking if one has access to a fatbike.  However, since spring has arrived three months early. the trails are now an utter mudfest and riding bikes on them would be downright unethical.  Walking on them is even an unpleasant proposition, so the solution is to stick to the jeep roads, which are made for tearing up.

This, of course, does not solve the problem of all the mud wanting to come home with us.  

Do the critters care that the mud, which is peanut butter-esque in texture, clings madly to the fur between their toes?  Have they given thought to the fact that we did not have space for our shop-vac, with which we could have vacuumed the mud out of the vehicles once they have tromped all over it?

Do they mind that our vacuum cleaner, forced to contend with years' worth of Paddington's copious shed fur, has started making a funny noise and barely collects any dirt from this godforsaken carpet? Does it trouble them that they like to jump on the bed and paw the covers into a heap in the middle, thereby distributing the dried mud throughout the bedding?

No, no, no, and not even a little bit.

But they are much cuter than I am, so they win.  (Also, no matter how much of a pain they can be, it helps me to remember that they are approximately eleventy billion times better than having human children, which I'm told require things like "time" and "effort" and "vegetables" and occasionally "bail money".)

Awwwww so cute.

Anyway.  After the snows that fell in December and the subsequent rise in temperature, for a while the trails were basically just chutes of terrifyingly slick ice:

But they were still somewhat navigable with quick reflexes and shoes with good traction.

After a few days of rain, however, they turned to mush that tried to suck the shoes off my feet.  So I dug out my gaiters for a stroll up the Cusick Creek fire road earlier this week.  Here was our glorious goopy view from the trailhead:

And our "before" photo of Paddington's normally white feets:

Since we started frequenting the trails (once the weather turned cold, thereby avoiding rattlesnakes), Paddington and Ellie have discovered a penchant for catching field mice by digging into their holes:

And her face looks much like this after every hike:

I think Paddington mostly enjoys the thrill of the chase, but Ellie, chronically hungry as she is, takes great pleasure in eating the mice.  I guess it qualifies as lean protein...

It was a scorching 45 degrees out that day, so Ellie was on the hunt for patches of snow to roll around in.  Finding none, she settled for watery mud:

Then about half an hour into our walk, we came across these small bare human footprints in the mud:

They appeared in the middle of the road, coming from nowhere, and disappeared again after 4 prints.

So that was mildly creepy.

Another of hour glopping along, and I had my fill, so we turned around and went back to the car.

Now for Paddington's "after" photo:

Still a little white peeking out there.

Natually, the mud was promptly spread across the car, futon, floor, and bed.  I now understand both the existence and importance of a mud room, and the next time I live in a house that consists of more than three rooms, I plan to designate one of the rooms as such.  First world problems, I know.

That is all!  Enjoy your weekend!