On the 7th of October, I got up earlier than a human should ever have to get up. I had spent the night in a motel in Hope, and I had a shower and had all my gear in the car by 7:00. That's 7:00 a.m. I dropped off my keys and went in search of a Tim Horton's for breakfast.

I found no Tim's, and ended up settling for a coffee and a muffin from a service station across the street from my motel. After finishing the muffin, I drove back to the Hope Slide, arriving a little before 7:30. It was turning light at this point, but because the slide is in a deep narrow valley, the really nice sunrise light wasn't getting anywhere near where I was.

I got out of the car, thankful that I had thought to bring a sweatshirt, winter jacket, hood, and gloves, because it was pretty nippy out. I went over to the picnic table near where I'd seen the pika the day before, and found neither pika nor chipmunk. The only familiar face around was that of a Stellar's Jay.

I spent another twenty minutes or so waiting and looking for pikas or chipmunks, with no luck. Even with my warm clothing, I was getting farily cold by this point, and so I sat back in my car and ran the heater while I changed the lens on my camera from my telephoto to my wideangle. If critters weren't showing up, I'd start using my time to take landscapes.

Once I was back out, I took a photo of the mountain where the slide took place. Because of the wideangle, this photo gets in more of the mountain than my photos of the day before.

It really was pretty cold out, and the sun was taking its time getting high enough to peek over the mountains and light up (and warm up) the area I was in. After taking a number of landscapes, I warmed myself in the car again and switched back to my long lens. I then spent more time scouting around for the critters.

With each passing minute, I was getting colder and colder, but gaining more and more appreciation for pikas. Any animal that doesn't get up as early as I did that morning has my respect and admiration. It was a perfect morning to stay curled up in bed, instead of being out clambering around on cold talus. These pikas were sure behaving a lot more sensibly than I was.

I had gained a deep appreciation of chipmunk habits the day before, and now of pika habits, so this seemed to be turning into a trip where I was really learning to respect nature.

Well, eventually, around 9:15, the sun hit the talus field and things started to warm up a bit. Then a pair of pikas popped up, so I grabbed my tripod and headed over near where they were. The first one I got photos of was munching on some grass.

He was only there for a few seconds. He then hopped away behind some rocks, his curiousity satisfied. His friend had disappeared as well.

Having now gotten some sunlit pika photos, I looked around at the talus and decided that some rock photos were in order. The colors, patterns, and textures were really neat, and I hadn't gotten any photos the day before that did them justice.

So I put my general lens on and started taking rock photos. On this one, I liked the interplay of green, grey, and white, with the occasional spots of rusty orange.

As I was looking at all of these rocks, with their different colors, and textures and such, I found myself wishing that my friend Carlo was with me. Carlo's a geologist and would have been able to explain all of the neat stuff I was seeing. Maybe one day I'll drag him out there with me.

Here's some rock where the texture, rather than the color, caught my eye. Of course, the color adds to my interest in it, though.

I like the way that all of the color in that photo ended up in the top portion, and I thought that the lens flare (those yellow/orange circles formed by the sun hitting the lens) added to it, as well.

I had a great time taking rock photos, but after a while doing that, I was ready for more wildlife. So I put the long lens back on the camera and started wandering. I had some birdseed in my pocket, which I had placed there earlier in hopes of using it to try to draw the Stellar's Jays near me for some close-ups. Around 10:00 I started spreading some of it on the rocks.

Well, a Yellow-pine Chipmunk must've seen what I was doing, because he came scurrying over towards me. As he did, I got a few photos. I like the way that these guys can hold their tails straight out, so I was happy to get a photo showing that.

It was now about ten minutes after ten o'clock, and my camera stopped taking photos because I had filled up the memory card. It's a 4-gigabyte card, and normally that'll do for a whole day's shooting for me, and here it was still mid-morning and the card was full. I got out another one (I always carry a fair amount of spare memory) while thinking that I should maybe be careful with the pace of my photos. But when the subjects present themselves, it's hard not to shoot.

And as I was putting the spare card in, another subject did present himself, bounding over the rock to say hi. Readers, I'd like for you to say hi to my new friend Herman.

Now, I didn't call this guy Herman because I thought that he was vermin; first, I don't consider him vermin, and second, I would never stoop to giving things rhyming names like that. I called him Herman because he is what my friends from Germany would call a Hermelin.

Despite his initial approach, Herman didn't seem to be too camera-shy, and soon showed me his full body...although I must admit that he was sort of twisting and turning a bit rather than holding still for my portrait.

Maybe all that wasn't too clear, so perhaps I should summarize: the squirmin' Hermelin Herman is no vermin; I've determined that Hermelin is German for Ermine.

That's right, my new friend Herman is an Ermine. You might associate Ermines with pure white fur, but that's their winter pelage. In the summer, they're brown on top and white below. According to my books, it's actually a little late for Herman to still be in his full summer colors...many Ermines are in transitional color by now.

Anyhow, Ermines are very cute little weasels, with typical weasel body and very serious digging feet. In this shot, Herman gives us a good view of those feet.

Herman was an energetic soul, and he clambered around the rocks near me for ten minutes or so. Unfortunately most of that time he spent a little east of me, which put the sun behind him. On shots I took during that time, his body and face are mostly in deep shadow and don't show good detail.

Ermines are carnivores, and they prey on small mammals, including Pikas. Supposedly, they're fairly successful catching Pikas, too...the Pika's only real defense mechanism is to retreat through the rocks to its burrow, but Ermines are small and agile enough to follow where they go. I had read about this predation when I was researching Pikas for my trip.

So, although I wasn't expecting to see an Ermine, I had a good idea that that's what Herman was when I saw him: it was no coincidence that I found him there in Pika country.

Also not a coincidence was the fact that all the chipmunks and pikas seemed to have disappeared when Herman came around. Due partly to their absence, I decided that this would be a good time to get back to the car and head down the road. My plan was to drive east to Manning Park and perhaps Princeton for the afternoon, in search of other subjects. So I said bye to Herman and hiked up the talus to my car.

I was pretty happy at this point, as I'd already found two mammals I'd never seen before on this trip (Pikas and Ermines) and gotten what I knew would be good photos of them both.

I did execute my plan for the afternoon, but the results of that will have to wait for my next entry.

Herman's new penpal,
Tom