Then again, this is a mountain cow, he could actually be talking to me. Stranger things have happened up here.
In the summer of 2008, satellites observed that the Northeast Passage, now known by the Russian name, Northern Sea Route (NSR), and the Northwest Passage both were open for the first time.
It’s hard not to think that every conflict the United States enters has as much to do with trying out all the toys as it does about furthering American harmonization around the world.
We think of our animals as extensions of our families, and we treat them like people. Such attitudes would have been almost unthinkable a century ago.
I’ve decided my life-and-death decisions should originate from choices made while climbing or skiing instead of from the flash from a grey-blue muzzle.
I stood atop the simplest of aviation aids, navigating this life on a wing and a prayer.
The sensuous attunement of mammalian ears and noses varies widely. Yet vision is relatively constant among species.
Being shot at seems a strange thing to celebrate, but everything seems a little strange in Afghanistan.
In the shadow of Homa Mountain, near the shores of Lake Victoria, long before I called the San Juan Mountains and southwest desert my home, I saw a tree shaped like Christmas and approached it.
This war needs a little less armored obstinacy and a little more ranch hand ingenuity and horse sense.
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