Day 4: Teddy's Park

We awoke to birdsong and a slow, lazy start to the day.  Phil hiked to the picnic area with his pot and thermos, using the electric plug-in in the updated bathrooms there for his coffee, while I fixed one of our favorite camping sins on the gas stove:

Then we donned hiking shorts and bug spray and set out for the trailhead we had seen the night before: Lower Paddock Creek Trail.  As we turned off to the trailhead, we glimpsed a trio of wild horses standing high above us on an overlook.  (You can see them if you enlarge the picture and look up at the top of the hill, right by the largest cloud that is coming over the hilltop.)

Less than a minute into the hike, we were attacked by a swarm of biting flies that weren’t fazed at all by the bug spray, so it was back to the campground for long pants and sleeves and hats.  Covered to the gills, we set out again, following the meandering creek (now almost dry) for several miles.  Stopping for lunch, we sat on a grassy slope and watched a fox slink through the grasses, hunting mice and prairie dogs (which were whistling and barking at a frantic rate).  We found buffalo hair (some of the old winter coat) rubbed off in a thicket of bushes where a herd must have spent the night, judging from the fresh pies I stepped in.  The peaks and buttes rising around us were striped with layers of sediment, some of them shaped into fantastical formations by the weathering of wind and rain.

Then home for naps, an essential ingredient in good vacations.  We read our books, dozed, and had tea (another essential ingredient), then dined al fresco on burgers and leftovers.  There was plenty of time for another evening bike ride down the road that serves as a loop through the southern area of Theodore Roosevelt National Park.  We found other trailheads, and a deer leaped into the road just ahead of us, heading back to higher ground after an evening drink at the river.

On the way home, we stopped to watch a group of wild horses and a foal cross the road on their way to an evening drink.

Back at the camper, Phil lit a fire in the grate so he could satisfy his pyromaniac urges and I could satisfy my passion for marshmallows toasted to a light amber, crispy-crusted perfection.  Then it was time to begin packing and organizing for an early departure in the morning.  A restless night of sleep, punctuated by strange noises of unknown origins.  One of the delights of camping.