As Aki sniffs a message left in pee, I talk with one the beaver patrol. She and other patrol volunteers have spent the morning dismantling beaver dams. It’s meant as a temporary fix to open a key stream for homecoming silver salmon. Behind her, the newly released current carries clumps of snow downstream. Somewhere beneath the snowy reflections, silver salmon make their way to their spawning beds. How strange, little dog, that salmon transit this Christmas card of a place, today a perfect venue for our ski.