The quiet is first thing I noticed this morning. Eureka Valley is secluded. I can compare the quiet to a morning after a fresh snowfall or the time we spent at Crazy Jug Point on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. It is the absence of sound that is loud. Even though I can see the ant people making tracks up the Eureka Dunes, it’s still incredibly silent.
A lone raven flew over head where I walked, flipping upside down, twice. I’ve never seen them do that. That’s when I blundered onto an animal’s tunnel system of some sort, I fell to my knees when the ground gave, with no grace because I was protecting my camera, directly into a dried plant covered in sharp plant things, then I was covered in sharp plant things.
I made it out of that. Shaking poky plant things off my pants. Grimacing at the scratching every time I took a step. OK. Then, BANG, a jackrabbit shot out of its hiding brush right next to me like a horse from the starting gate. I squealed, so much for that quiet.
I decided it was time this mighty northern swamp creature used the road before I really hurt myself on this walk. On the way back to the camper it crossed my mind the times I studied the desert illustrations as a kid. To me it was the most exotic place. I mused to myself, how lucky am I to see these desert creatures in real life.

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