It wasn’t until our last morning in Yellowstone this past January that we finally had color and character in the sunrise. It was cold enough that the mists from the hot springs filled the landscape with its sulfury steam and the sun finally poked through the cloud cover enough to tinge them with pink. The afternoon before on this same meadow, we watched a black Gray Wolf trotting across to meet up with its pack mates but not before stopping and rolling around in some rotting thing it discovered along its path. Dogs will be dogs, after all.