Squirrels aren't fond of fluffy, deep new snow. It hampers their ability to scamper swiftly when they feel they may be in danger. They prefer to stick
to the trees and branches where they can nimbly perform their acrobatics well out of danger of being caught unawares.

Still, you can see their tracks in the new-fallen snow, anxious to see if there'd been any peanut drops since they last took advantage of those we put out daily for them in little cache-places in the bark of trees, on stumps, inside the crooks of branches; they know all the places and check them regularly. Often they're patiently sitting there when we amble by, faithfully awaiting our passage.

They are not the only ones. Crows are increasingly aware that when we pass by, invariably there are peanuts to be found, and they track us, carefully watching the deposits. And then, in our wake, down they come, swooping for their prize. I shouldn't begrudge them the occasional peanuts, there's always plenty of them for the squirrels.

And for the chickadees and nuthatches that are around and about in the woods, so heavily frosted with snow, after the last big fall we had. There are also redpolls, but I'm not certain whether they like peanuts; they may. Haven't seen the pileated woodpeckers in a while.

Trudging through the fresh fallen snow would be a labour beyond my capacity for the length of time we're out there daily, were it not for the fact that there are others going into the wooded ravine and making their way along the trails. Each fresh bootprint helps tamp down the snow pack and by the time we make our way in there toward the morning hour nudging into noon, the trails are passable.