M. was traveling outside Colorado when the windstorm of June 6 swept through the Wet Mountains (and the flycatchers' nest).
Here she views a patch of knocked-over white firs in the Wet Mountains weeks after the storm.
This particular ridge is full of older blowdowns. Eventually the aspen fill in around them and the trunks lose their smaller branches, forming gigantic log breastworks in the midst of an aspen grove.
Once when hunting in this area I became a "mite turned around," but regained my sense of place when I remembered that the blown-over trunks usually point northeast like so many compass needles.