Deadman's Basin Reservoir

We took the weekend off and headed two hours north of our place to Deadman's Basin Reservoir for some fishing and camping with Jon's sister and family. Approaching Deadman's is like any typical drive in the country until you turn down a dirt road and crest a hill to find a giant lake nestled in between farm houses.


We thought we had the place to ourselves but on Saturday morning, we acquired neighbors on both sides. On our right, the jet skiers who insisted on riding directly on top of our fishing lines - thanks! On our left, the drunks with a boat. They were piss drunk at 9:00 am when they pulled up. I was expecting high entertainment, and hoping for no fatalities. There were neither.

When we returned, nobody asked if we had fun. They only asked, "Was it windy?" This particular reservoir is notorious for wicked storms that whip out of nowhere, capsizing boats and not too infrequently, drowning people.

The answer? I'll let you judge for yourselves.



On Saturday night, a storm did roll through. We hastily gathered everything in camp, stashed the chairs, weighted down our camper awning with massive logs, and took shelter.


We fished for salmon and trout, but caught a fair share of suckers and carp, which are junk fish.



We learned that Gus is fanatical about going after your fish as you reel it in. That dog has a serious chasing issue: squirrels, mice, rabbits, horses, sheep, cows, and now fish. Thankfully, he leaves the neighbors' cats alone.

Every time someone got a bite, he raced over and plowed into the water to attack the flailing fish. This is fine unless you like teeth marks in your dinner and digging fish hooks out of your dog's paw - which did not deter him, I might add. I only had one bite the whole weekend and I lost the fish because Gus tore the line as I was reeling it in.

For most of the weekend, Gus stood a few feet offshore waiting for a catch.


The Falcons brought their canoe and did a good bit of trolling in it. Taya, my niece who has the entire family wrapped around her five year old fingers, caught more fish than any of us! Not wanting to miss out on anything, she would yell, "ARE YOU GOING ON A BOAT RIDE?!?!" anytime we came within 20 feet of the canoe.

Droopy Things

While doing my morning walk in our Boise yard today, I noticed the number of plants abloom with hanging flowers. They are quite pretty. Their languid posture belies the fervor of spring.

These are currant flowers. Our two bushes are loaded with flowers this year, along with our gooseberry (we planted last spring). I had to move to Idaho so I could grow these -- they are outlawed in North Carolina because they are a possible vector for some pine tree disease.



This is our Harry Lauder's Walking Stick tree, also know as curly filbert.



We have lovely, massive bleeding hearts in our front yard.



Not a plant, but just as pretty. A Buddhist prayer flag that hangs in our backyard.

Found Religion or a Table Rock Hike

The full, harvest moon was on Wednesday, so last night a friend and I hiked up to Table Rock to see the sunset and the moonrise. Table Rock is, as it's name implies, a flat outcropping of rock in the foothills surrounding Boise. It provides gorgeous views of the city and I thought it would be magical to see the full moon from that vantage point. Oddly, this geologic wonder also hosts a gigantic white cross that is lit nightly, as well as power transformers and cell phone towers.


Neither Steffani nor I had done the hike before, but we figured we would just start at the bottom and hike the trail to the top. We were chatting and quickly out of breath, so when we came to a crossroads with the Table Rock Trail, we followed it, without looking around to secure our bearings. Turns out we were hiking away from Table Rock. Gah! We backtracked and finally made it up just after sunset.


There were others at the top, including some cars as apparently there is a road that leads to the top in addition to the trail. We waited for the moon as it grew cold, but still no moon. Then a couple drove up in an SUV, rolled their windows down, and serenaded us with merengue music. What a buzz-kill. At that point, we decided to pick our way down in the dark. Neither of us brought lights, thinking the light of the moon would guide us.

The vile gigantic cross lit the way at first, but eventually the trail was just plain dark, rocky, and a little sketchy. I admit that "mountain lion bait" was in the back of my mind but I kept this thought to myself. We finally made it to the bottom just after 8:00pm. While on the trail, we saw a two-point buck and six large quail, and then saw a fox across the street from Steffani's house in the heart of Boise. The moon eventually poked it's head above the foothills on the drive home.

Snowed In

South-central Montana and is getting hammered by the same storm that brought record-breaking snow to Boise a few days ago. The Clarks Fork Valley is buried under more than two feet of snow and it is predicted to continue snowing today. The view from the Red Lodge web camera looks pretty socked in.

We got a call this morning from the folks that have their cows on our ranch; they are trying to get a vehicle into the ranch to supply feed (hay) to the cows. With this kind of snow cover, the cows won't be able to forage for grass.

Carol, one of those ranchers, said that she has never seen a storm like this so early. Heavy, wet, spring-like snow will make getting in and out of our place nearly impossible.

Zzzzzzzzzzz

Last night was a sleepless one--or at least sleep only in short bursts. Since we moved the camper to be closer to the bath-house, there are more sounds from the nearby pastures and hills. Between the coyotes howling, the dogs barking at the coyotes, and then the dogs howling with the coyotes, last night's sleep was fitful at best. I woke three times that I recall to a canine symphony starting with yipping and howling coyotes in the not too far away distance, joined by barking dogs in three pitches: Tucker, Cash, and Gus, building to a cacophony of barking and howling dogs and coyotes. We looked out the camper window to see Cash with his nose pointed high in the air singing, "aaaawwwwwooooooooooo!"

And somewhere in between was this sleepy conversation:

--unidentified animal noise--

--barking dogs--

Jon: "What was that?"
Me: "It was a cow."
Jon: "That was NOT a cow."
Me: "No? I thought it sounded like a cow."
Jon: "It sounded like a mountain lion."
Me: "I didn't think we had mountain lions down here."
Jon: "Me neither. Maybe it was a bobcat."
Me: "Okay, now I am totally freaked out and I have to go to the bathroom."

All of this makes me nervous because tomorrow our neighbor is putting 20 ewes and their lambs in our orchard and corral areas to eat down the grass. It is a mutually beneficial agreement: our grass needs to be eaten and the sheep are hungry.

But, I am worried about the coyotes preying on the sheep. Our neighbor says as long as our dogs are around the sheep should be fine. I am worried about the dogs chasing the sheep, or worse, because our dogs aren't accustomed to livestock. Our neighbor says his sheep are used to dogs, but still, I worry.

Really, I couldn't sleep last night worrying about it. Then again, maybe it was the coyotes...

Cascade Fire

Once again, most news agencies are reporting about the California wildfires, but other areas are burning as well. The Cascade fire in southwestern Montana is pretty close to the ranch--about 15 miles as the crow flies. This is basically the view that greeted us on Saturday afternoon as we returned from Cody, Wyoming:

Photo: LARRY MAYER/Billings Gazette Staff

Our ranch is not in any imminent danger, but our quaint little haven of Red Lodge is indeed.

Cascade Fire Map Courtesy of Tom Kohley for www.redlodge.com (amended with place names)

The fire has continued to burn unabated (it is 0% contained after four days), consuming 5800 acres so far. We can see the fire's smoke from the ranch and yesterday while in Red Lodge for pizza, we saw and heard C130 planes and Sikorsky helicopters flying above town.

High winds of 20 - 40 mph are expected tonight which could push the fire into the town. I'm really hoping that doesn't happen. Click here for more pictures of the fire activity.

Surfacing

The search is over, the vigil and memorial in North Carolina have passed. Nancy's family has returned to Canada for a few days and I guess this is the time when many of us will try to create a degree of normalcy in our lives.

Sunday was the first day that I didn't think about Nancy, her death, and her family incessantly. Monday, yesterday, was the first day that I didn't wake up thinking about Nancy. For days, I would wake in the morning and realize that I had already been thinking about her before I even realized I was awake. At times my grief was paralyzing and at times it felt distant because of my geography.

Life and death roll on.

Our friend Mike, who we met in Boise and who later moved to San Francisco, visited us in Bridger for a long weekend. We explored the reaches of nearby natural wonders in Yellowstone National Park and the Beartooth Pass.

Our Montana neighbors lost one of their dogs; Kathleen went to check water near the highway and her deaf dog wandered into the road.

Our work on the ranch continues with the realization that we will not finish the little house this summer and the conversion of an old lambing barn into a new bath-house.

Tucker supervises the electrical work on the bath-house (if only he had thumbs).

Mountain Pornography

Posting some more pictures of the Sawtooths because they were so breathtaking. These shots were taken while riding down Fourth of July Road outside of Stanley, Idaho.

Shepherd Camp with Hobbled Horses

Fire Damage from 2007

More Fire Damage from 2007

Stole this solo-bike-in-photograph staging from Jill Homer.

Blind Dog, Still Hunts

Object of desire #1.

Object of desire #2.

Be very quiet, he's hunting squirrels.

Despite being blind, our dog Cassius still hunts squirrels for the better part of most days. And when I say better, I mean both quantitatively and qualitatively, for he certainly considers this to be the penultimate fun activity. The only thing better is eating anything, including cat poop.

He may not be able to see the squirrels but he can sure hear them. He spends hours racing around the yard guided by their chattering. Sometimes we even catch Cash quietly and slowly stalking the squirrels like a cat, apparently not realizing that although he can't see them, they can very much see him.


Occasionally the chases end with some collateral damage, but when you get right down to it, he doesn't need those eyes anyway!

Disclaimer #1: This injury was only to the skin outside of his eye and is now healed. His vision, however, remains the same. He has none.

Disclaimer #2: For those of you grossed out that he eats cat poop, I was just kidding. He only eats Tucker's poop.

Disclaimer #3: For those of you grossed out by any discussion of poop and in particular eating poop, it was all just a big joke. No, really.

Duck, Duck, Mallard

This little pair of mallard ducks has been visiting our front yard for several weeks now. They discovered the bird seed buffet that falls to the ground from the feeder in the tree above. We really enjoy having them, but I worry about them hanging out in such an urban setting with all the dangers of dogs, cats, and cars.

I could, however, do without the Saturday morning 6:26 am wake up call I got today. Only the female was in the yard and she was quacking incessantly; our bedroom window is about 15 feet from the tree and feeder. I assume she was calling for her mate as he wasn't around. Should I be concerned?

Finches Can't Read

In the last century, bluebirds have suffered an alarming decline in their numbers. Loss of habitat and nesting cavities due to logging, competition from swallows and other species, and the use of pesticides are some of the factors contributing to the decline. Bluebirds were once as numerous as robins!


North Carolinians love their bluebirds and we were no exception. The entire state, it seems, is part of an effort to rebuild the bluebird population. In fact, just about every state has a bluebird society and there is also a national organization as well. Very serious stuff!

The most common way to encourage bluebird population is to provide nesting boxes. When I moved to North Carolina from Florida, I had never seen a bluebird and had no idea what all those wooden boxes were that dotted the rural landscape on fence posts and tree trunks. Once you see a bluebird, you want to see more. Once you see them in courtship, nesting, and fledging their young, it is easy to fall in love forever. They are beautiful, busy animals.

In the piedmont area of North Carolina, a man by the name of Jack Finch started building bluebird boxes in the 1970s. I picked one up during a trip to the Finch family's pottery and blueberry nursery. When I got home, Jon and I excitedly installed it in the yard, staking a surrogate claim for the first bluebird family to find it.

While the house is clearly stamped with "Homes for Bluebirds", finches in North Carolina can't read. Apparently finches also think that bluebird boxes make for great nesting sites and the only way to keep them out is to destroy their nests as they try to build them. Let me repeat that: destroy their nests as they build them.

Now I know that early bird watchers, Audubon included, shot and killed the very birds they studied and illustrated. To a modern bird enthusiast like myself this is abhorrent; although, I guess lacking cameras the only way to get the dern thing still enough to get a good look is to kill it. To me, the thought of destroying a bird nest is enough to send me into a tizzy of personal debate about ethics, the valuation of one animal species versus another, and whether we should intervene with a hand of destruction. The topic of destroying squatting birds' nests has also led to some interesting marital discussions because Jon can read and he is quite certain the box does not say "Homes for insert name of species here". Any intruders must go; he empties out their nests without hesitation or guilt.

So over the years we have had some finches, some swallows, but mostly bluebirds. I have given over our bluebird home property management arm to chance or my husband, whichever intervenes first. After all, Jon has to live with his choices and frankly, he seems to sleep just fine at night. I sleep alright too, and try not to worry too much about whether bluebird karma is worth more than finch karma. Jon gets to follow his moral compass and I follow mine. Fortunately, most of the time they still point North.

I can't help but wonder, though: Where do the presidential candidates stand on a literacy campaign for birds?

Update, April 25th, 2008: Got a voicemail last night from our old neighbors that our bluebird family has relocated to their yard.

Sorry, Guys

Image courtesy of http://www.ec.gc.ca/EnviroZine/images/Issue57/BeaufortSea_l.jpg

I started to get dressed this morning fully intending to ride my bike to work. Jon asked what the temperature was and I repeated what I heard on our local NPR station this morning. "Nine degrees, with a wind chill of -10." He told me I should drive my truck to work, that I had to set some limits. Perhaps.

When I think about whether I can ride my bike in frigid temperatures, I think about Jill Homer, the Alaska journalist who is training for the human-powered Iditarod race, a multi-day event in which she will bike across the Alaska wilderness in sub-zero temperatures. She chronicles her training in her blog Arctic Glass. Her reasons for riding are different than mine, but an inspiration nonetheless. When I fret about my 1.5 mile commute, I check Jill's blog to see that she rode 22 miles yesterday in 28 degree temperatures.

I console myself with the reminder that driving to work will give me the opportunity to sherpa home the large garbage bag full of empty plastic bottles I have collected at work so they can be recycled.

Snowshoeing: Banner Ridge

Everybody, git yer shoes on!

On Sunday, we went snowshoeing again, this time with our new friends Mike W., Roxanne, Erin, and Mike H. Some of the snow we enjoyed last weekend at Whoop-Em-Up had melted, so we drove further up the mountain to the Banner Ridge Park-n-Ski area.

The view is not too shabby.

One of the Mikes brought a GPS, so we knew exactly how far we went: 3.4 miles. I have decided that 3.4 miles on snowshoes is a pretty good hike. I woke up in the middle of the night and my legs were screaming.

Right from the outset, we saw lots of animal tracks.

I am enjoying learning how to identify animal tracks: rabbit, fox, and coyote were the most common. About halfway through the hike, we took an off-trail detour and Jon spotted wolf tracks. They were enormous and stunning. You could see the outline of each pad-- the paws were about as big around as my hand.

Living out west has forced me to think more often about the tension between ranchers, hunters, livestock, and wolves. It used to be that wolves were just the bane of livestock farmers, but now hunters are citing anecdotal evidence that wolves are the cause of a decline in elk and moose populations, as well. I won't go into this in detail, but I found numerous sources that negate this, including from the Idaho Department of Fish and Game. (If you want more information, just Google "idaho wolves elk population".)

The wolves in Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming are considered a "non-essential experimental population" but they are still protected under the Federal Endangered Species Act. Early this year, however, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service announced a proposal to remove grey wolves' endangered status. In preparation for the status change, the Idaho Department of Fish and Game is trying to determine how the populations will be managed and to what extent. Idaho Governor Butch Otter wants the wolf population culled by hunters from current numbers around 800 (source) to 100 animals, or 10 packs. Ten packs is the minimum number of wolves before the animals would be considered endangered...again. Anyone else see the lunacy in this idea?

According to the Idaho Department of Fish and Game Commission, delisting could occur as early as February 2008. At a hunter's rally last week, Otter spoke about the issue:

"That management includes you," Otter told the approximately 300 hunters, many wearing camouflage clothing and blaze-orange caps. "I'm prepared to bid for that first ticket to shoot a wolf myself."

Anyway...

Another interesting thing we saw on our snowshoe trip was the remnants of a burn. At first we thought the rising smoke was steam from a natural hot spring, but closer investigation revealed that it was actually tree wood still smoldering.

Winter burn.

Why are the maps are so high? So they aren't at your knees when the snowpack is three feet!

Once again, I tripped myself by stepping on my own shoe and ended up face-planting in the snow. I wasn't hurt, but as I pulled myself up, my entire group stood on the hill above me laughing with their cameras poised on their noses. Evil. (I admit that later in the hike, when Erin tripped, I was actually hoping she would fall and she totally busted me by the excited look on my face. Nobody wants to be the only clutz.)

On our way back to Boise, we stopped at the Idaho City Ranger station to alert the staff to the burn and they called out a fire crew to investigate.

It was yet another beautiful, if tiresome, weekend in this winter paradise. I doubt we will get on our snowboards until after we return from Christmas holidays in Florida but I certainly look forward it!

Squirreling, or, a New Law of Physics

Fall is the time of year that you find holes in your garden beds and your potted plants, presumably because squirrels are busily burying their winter stores and hence the title of this post. (Although, I must say that I think the holes are their digging efforts to find loot to bury, because otherwise why is there nothing in the holes and why are the holes not covered back up? At any rate, that theory negates my title so let's dismiss it. Moving on...)

A few months ago Jon and I bought a chest freezer. We debated over what size to buy: for our needs now or big enough to store our future garden haul? Should it be self-defrosting? How important is it to have a drain? Is it Energy-Star compliant? We finally settled on one and once we had it home, I learned a new law of physics: if it is empty, it will be filled.

Partly because the empty freezer stared back at me with the same hollow loneliness that I sometimes feel since moving, and partly because I have nothing better to do than to spend my evenings in the kitchen, the freezer has begun to fill. Every recipe I make is in triplicate and the leftovers are vacuum-packed in Food Saver bags. I'm barely halfway to a full freezer, but not for lack of trying.


Tonight I made French Lentil Soup, but to the recipe I added chopped fresh parsley, 1/2 teaspoon of cumin, and a dash of soy sauce. Each bowl was garnished with a dollop of sour cream.

Earlier this week I made massive amounts of Black Bean Chili. The recipe has been in development for the past 10 plus years I have been making it.





Black Bean Chili
Serves 4 - 6

1 cup dry black beans
1 large onion, chopped
1 red bell pepper, chopped
1 green bell pepper, chopped
5 cloves garlic, chopped
2 TBSP chili powder
2 tsp each of cumin, paprika, cilantro, oregano
½ tsp red pepper (more or less to adjust heat)
½ tsp salt
¼ cup red wine or red wine vinegar
1 cup macaroni noodles, al dente
1 28 oz can of high quality chopped tomatoes (Muir Glen, Parmalat)

Cover black beans with several inches of water and bring to boil. Reduce heat to low and cook until barely tender, about 1½ to 2 hours. Check often. Do not overcook.

In separate pot, saute onions, peppers, and garlic until tender. Add spices and saute for 1 minute. Add red wine or red wine vinegar and saute for one minute. Add tomatoes and cooked beans. If consistency is too thick, you can add some more tomatoes, tomato sauce, or black bean cooking liquid. Simmer for ½ hour or until beans are fully cooked. Meanwhile, cook noodles until al dente. Add to chili, adjust spices if necessary. Serve with grated cheese and crushed crackers or cheddar Goldfish on top. Sour cream optional.

Like freezers, empty hearts must too abide the laws of physics. Eventually, mine will fill again.

**This post is dedicated to my friend Tricia, from whom I received a pointed email this morning titled "Two Questions". It said: 1) Have you read A Primate's Memoir? 2) When are you going to post on your blog? (Incidentally, I think the original version of this recipe came from one of Tricia's cookbooks!)

Nature's Paintbrush

Fall weather has come a bit sooner than I thought it would here in Boise. This year seems to be a touch cooler and wetter compared to most of the historical weather data for Boise. Hopefully this wet fall will give way to a cold and snowy winter, my snowboard is so very hungry!

Most of the landscaping in our yard has begun it's annual transformation.

The lush green leaves are quickly changing to stunning red or yellow before the cool fall wind places them onto the ground. I've been out raking once already this fall and I anticipate a few more trips to the compost bin before the first snow flies.

Not all of our plants have accepted the signal to conserve energy for winter. Our roses are still blooming and putting out new growth like crazy. I wonder if they'll respond to the hard freeze we are supposed to get tonight.

Before there was Boise

We sold our home in Raleigh.

Emptied the house.

Stopped in at the Pancake Pantry in Nashville, Tennesee for the best-ever pancakes.

Continued on, bleary-eyed, through the hay bales of Somewhere, South Dakota.

Stopped for barbecue, hacky-sack and family time in Billings, Montana.

Toured the Beartooth Pass on bicycles.

Toured Grandpa Dunn's meticulous garden.

Spent some quality time with Granny and Grandpa, making sure to sample homemade plum jelly.

We also toured the ranch property, making mental notes of a long list of projects.

The original house on the ranch.

The original out-house on the ranch.

Chokecherries abound on the ranch--jelly is in my future!

Another lovely view.

(New) home sweet home.