As I sat at the Hörnli Hut, beneath the pyramidal colossus that is the Matterhorn, looking up at its seemingly endless wall of granite on the eve of my summit bid, anticipation built. My climbing partner, JD, and I sipped beer that we hoped would settle the nerves as the sun set behind the 4,478m peak, casting a huge shadow over the Zmutt Glacier Basin and the town of Zermatt, far below. The thunder of avalanches and rock fall resounded throughout the natural amphitheatre, blending with the chirrup of alpine choughs that had briefly ventured to this altitude to scavenge crumbs left on the hut’s veranda.
As the shadows lengthened, the choughs descended. Now climbers and hut mountain?
