Beside her, on the blanket, she had arranged a pair of Bausch & Lomb binoculars, a Peterson’s Field Guide to Western Birds, and a silver thermos of black coffee. She spoke slowly, scanning a marshy pond at the bottom of the slope. “Cinnamon teal, a ring-necked, a couple types of goldeneyes. There’s a heron in that aspen by the inlet.” Roger tugged his bandanna low over his eyebrows. “Busy little pond.” “Springtime in the Rockies.” Maurey cupped her left hand over her left eye, trying to ease the squint pressure. “We had a pair of trumpeters nest in here last year. I was hoping they’d come back.” She swiveled the scope to the right. “There’s a coyote on the ridge.” “Where?” Maurey pointed out what looked to Roger like a tan rock. He picked up the binoculars and focused in on the coyote. Maurey said, “Every female down there is either about to or has dropped in the last few days.
