The September day was sunny as my husband and I set out for a hike in Colorado. We frequently explore new trails. Our favorite trails are seldom traveled by others and often lead to a lake full of trout. The goal for this beautiful day was a lake we had seen from a distance but never had actually been to. My fisherman husband was hoping to catch a few fish, and I, with camera gear in hand, was looking to take pictures of anything that caught my eye.
As I sat on a rock eating a snack, a blur of motion caught my attention. All I saw was the long slim brown shape of a weasel as it sped by among the willows and rocks right in front of me. “Wait. Come back!” I said softly as the excitement of capturing a weasel in a picture overcame me.
While both short-tailed and long-tailed weasels live in this area, they are not often seen. On the rare occasion I do see one, it is usually a blur as the weasel crisscrosses the countryside at top speed, investigating every nook and cranny for a potential meal. I rarely have the time to grab my camera, let alone get a picture.
Not really expecting anything to happen, as wild animals march to their own beat, I was shocked when the weasel turned around and headed back toward me. As if curious about what I was and why I was talking to it, the weasel jumped up from behind a rock to check me out. He looked me right in the eye and then disappeared behind the rock again. Slowly I reached for my camera and tried to sweet-talk the weasel into posing for me. For the next five minutes, the weasel would hide behind a rock and then pop back up to look at me as if it was playing “Pop Goes the Weasel.” I snapped picture after picture, hoping that at least a few would turn out.
Meanwhile, my husband hooked a really nice cutthroat trout. He was getting ready to ask me to come take a picture when he heard me say, “Do that again,” “Hold Still!” and “I will make you famous”—all common phrases I utter when I have an animal subject willing to work with me. He quickly realized that I was otherwise occupied and there was no hope of getting a picture of his fish. So, he released the fish and returned to casting while I continued working with the weasel.
Eventually the weasel tired of the game and went on its merry way. I watched it scamper off between the rocks, disappearing as quickly as it had arrived. With a huge smile, I raced to tell my husband all about my encounter!
