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Taken across from the Flying J truckstop in Willard Utah. The Wasatch Range is right and out of sight the Great Salt Lake and Willard Bay are about a half mile to the left. A light snow over night left everything white topped.
As I walked up Dengemarsh track I noticed this beautifully marked Marsh Harrier skirting the gravel pit . I waited hidden by a sallow bush and as luck was on my side he flew right by me .
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Tracks vanishing in the mist have a strange symbolism. Like to never take a train to some other world as master Miyazaki had portayed. The train would be full of spooky strangers anyway. Only ghosts could travel to such a mist. And yet, the hope lingers. Or is it a fear of that actually happening one day? To fly away or to become a ghost, there is no difference...