Mis-Identification!

Remember that cool owl?  It was a great horned owl!  Thank you Kenlyn for helping me see the difference!  It's all about the white apron under the beak.  Who-who-who knew???

Goin' Fishin'

I think we have pretty good bait.

So, we are throwing in a hook, all baited up, to see if anyone bites.  Why not?

Check out this site for our new listing to Air BnB our Freedom place.  K Lazy M Ranch Air BNB 

If nothing else, even if there are no bites, I'm getting that place deep cleaned!! 

Family and friends - want to come stay?  Have I got a deal for you!!  We need some good scores and you can get a really great deal if you want to come and enjoy a slice of "Freedom"!!

Pictured below, the beautiful Sunflower Room!

Contemplations on Yesterday

Yesterday was a good day.

It ended with Mike and I stretched back in the leather double recliner listening to Mahler's First Symphony.  We finished a fine meal of nice green salad - complete with home made dressing, red peppers, red onions, and cucumbers - and a hunk of antelope backstrap given to us by a friend.  Sliced thick, dipped in milk and elk, dredged in flour with salt and pepper, and fried to just the right tenderness in a cast iron pan.  A glass of wine evened out the fine meal.

Work was good for both of us yesterday.  Mike is redoing the porch at the white rental house and he reports his plan is coming together.  At the end of his day, he stuffed our eight head of stock into the horse trailer and hauled them north to Hoback.  They are making their way to their winter Walton Ranch home.

During my work day, I had the opportunity to do an inspection down a remote part of our county.  While driving back, I spied this long eared owl who allowed me to get right under the tree and photograph him.  Thank you, Mr. Owl!  You made my day!!

It was a warm, lovely late-fall day to be relished to its fullest! 

Note from my Dad

(No introduction necessary.)

The Hunt

The night before, playing cards with Seth and Alden, I bet that it would be clear in the morning.  No one takes me up on this bet, despite under heavy clouds and listening to snow pellets hit the tent, it didn’t seem likely I would win.  I also stated I might take a “pass” on the morning ride.  We had been up early two days in a row, alarm clock jostling a good sleep at 4:30am.  Ugh.  Alden holds her big cards until the end.  Her new nickname is Ruth-less!  Fitting!  Pictured below, the beautiful sisters, Alden (right) and Orley (left). 

We play cards too long into the night and the alarm clock sounds at its unreasonably early time.  I get up.  Today, I wear three pairs of socks and my red Duluth underwear that Mike got me for Christmas.  You laugh.  These things are important!  My black good luck scarf is around my neck and above my under armor shirt layer is my black wool Pendleton sweater with the windproof black sweater over that – all good luck clothing items from years past (excluding the new underwear).  I’ve been worried about the straps and buckles sewn onto my zippered bottomed Rivers West gear ever since I finally got around to doing that needed addition.  Since added, I have not killed an elk.  I worry about this more that you might imagine.

Down the trail into the darkness.  Seth pulls a mule – Buzzy, Alden rides the big skinny yellow horse named Chancy, and I am atop Gus, my mule, the fourth day of riding for him.  He is fat and strong and shows no sign of being weary.  The sky, is clear.  I would have won my bet!  We head east to a lighting horizon.  Two great horned owls hoot hoot to each other at the top of the meadow by the Elk Fork River below camp.  The air is crisp and clean and cold.  I inhale deeply.  It is a beautiful morning, bright with the new snowfall.

We travel yesterday’s trail, Seth knocking the snow off the branches so we endure less falling on our heads, and legs, and down the back of our necks.  The trail zigs and zags between junipers and pine trees, down and around Swede Creek, jumping from one side to the other.  Today, the skies are clear and we climb higher and higher.  Jumping off on a ridgeback, Seth and Alden spy a 5 point bull elk.  Alone and coming our direction.  The two drop down the ridge, into thick forest to try to call this bull in closer.  I wait on the ridge, gun loaded, just in case he shows himself. 

Their cow calling to the bull ceases and they appear back on the ridgeback.  He must have winded us, Seth ponders.  We call Mike on the radio – he has stayed at camp to wrangle the herd, do some camp chores, and enjoy some relaxation time.  We are bit too far for these radios.  Seth walks up to a knob to get better reception.  I look to the southeast, glassing open meadows and ridgetops.

Suddenly Seth is running toward me.  At first, I cannot figure why and then I know.  He has spotted an elk.  We look for Alden.  She is no where.  Her horse is there tied up, but she is no where to be found.  Seth hustles me up to a dead tree for a rest.  I cannot see an elk.  And then he shows me the elk.  It is 375 yards away.  I look through my scope.  The elk is tiny and pointing toward me.  “Talk to him,” I ask.  Seth makes sure I’m ready and squeaks out a cow call.  The elk turns sideways and I blast off a shot.  I miss.  I shoot again.  We hear the spat.  The elk walks to the ridgeline.  Seth urges me to keep shooting.  I shoot again and hear the splat.  The elk continues to stand.  I shoot again and miss.  I shoot again.  This time the elk topples and falls down.

. 

Alden appears.  She had gone off into the woods to pee.  I feel bad.  The first elk was to be her elk.  But this is hunting and one dares not wait.  Later, Alden will make sure I know she would not have shot an elk at that distance.  Still I am ripped with guilt and happiness!  We have an elk on the ground and walk our horses over to find where it came to rest.

The elk is lodged down a steep bank, about 50 feet below the trail.  Seth finishes the elk off.  My shots have opened up his belly and hit a front and back leg.  Not shooting to be very proud of, indeed.  Although, I do note, for the record, that I have not ruined any meat.  It is the meat that is the prize for me, not the antlers. 

It is work to harvest this elk’s meat and I admire Seth’s strength and appreciate his grace in being gentle on my shooting expertise.  The crawl up the snow-covered steep slope with the four quarters, backstraps, and loins makes our hearts pound in our eardrums!  Mike shows up with another mule, we sip a bit of hard liquor to toast the elk who has given his life for our story telling and eating pleasure.  Loaded, we walk the steep hill down, knees cringing down the slippery slope turned muddy from the afternoon sun.  On flat ground, we mount our rides and zig zag back to camp under dripping snow covered branches.

I have a great reverence for the act of hunting.  To me, it is an incredible privilege to take an animal’s life.  It is also a sport for me – winning is hunting, looking, finding, shooting, killing, and harvesting.  I am not ashamed of this competitive drive, it’s what gets me up at the ridiculous hour of 4:30am and pushes me into my gear inside of a very cold white canvas tent. 

Next time I go out to hunt – I still have another elk tag to fill – I will be wearing red underwear!  I might try to visit the shooting range once or twice too!

Elk Fork Outfitters

Just west of the town of Wapati Wyoming, the Elk Fork trail sits at the bottom of a wide canyon.  Rising up above the Elk Fork River, cottonwoods thread a fall-colored yellow line following the river southeast up to the snow covered mountain ranges separating this valley from the Yellowstone Thoroughfare.  Foothills, softened by time, make up the next level of topography along this river trail.  Covered in six inch yellow grasses, the brown foothills wear a cloak yellow looking somewhat like a mink coat over their softened shoulders.  Sheer brown cliffs rise above these foothills in various monolithic formations carved by water, weather, and time into spires of rust and brown.

The valley is wide and the trail trades sides with the river, meandering from east to west staying low and flat most of the way.  Our horses and mules amble along, not working too hard with their loads of gear, food, and camp supplies.  The layer of fallen leaves which get stomped into the dirt on the trail smell of fall decay, sweet and musty and organic.  There is a slight breeze which rattles the drying leaves still holding onto the tree branches above. 

We work our way down the trail and ride into the Cabin Creek Camp about three and a half hours from the trail head.  Sunlight shines down on a yellow grass filled meadow punctuated with white canvass tents.  The creek flanks the camp and provides easy access to clean cold water.  Easy, clean and ample water is a bonus for any remote camp.  The abundance of stock grass is another and there are meadows upon meadows here, blocked at a narrow point below by a drift fence, keeping all stock from considering a run out to the trail head.  Dead and dried trees litter the ground and there is plenty of firewood to harvest.  

This is Seth and Alden’s new outfitting camp.  Summer trips and fall hunts will be how they prioritize their lives as they begin to build their livelihood around this wilderness retreat.  Outfitting is not easy business.  It requires a big investment; horses and mules, saddles and pack saddles, tents and cots, stoves and saws to cut the wood for the stoves,  insurance coverage, trucks and trailers, barns to store all of this when winter arrives, and lots of lots of work.  This is their summer and fall home.  There is no where they would rather be – and it is a fine, fine place, indeed. 

The story of the hunt will come later.  This place, set deep in the wilderness, is magical and unique.  Check out their website at Elk Fork Outfitters

Hunting Memories

Dad taught me to shoot a gun.  I started with a 20 gauge shot gun and quickly advanced to a 12 gauge shot gun.  Mom sewed me my own custom shooting vest.  I remember it had greens and blues and flowers with a sueded shoulder patch.  It was the coolest thing ever!

Tonight I pack as we prepare to join friends, Seth & Alden, to ride into the backcountry and see their new hunting camp.  These new outfitters in Cody got the camp late so finding hunters - for this year - was tough.  We got an invitation and bit hard!!  Heck yeah, we'll come hunt with you!

The ride in is reported to be about 3 1/2 hours.  Not much different that the ride into Mike's old camp.  We will haul our two mules over with us, guns, gear, some dinners, and hibiscus margarita mix. 

Memories of hunting.  Walking down the yellow-grassed field to the south from my childhood home in Illinois, sun angled to the south, yellow light coloring the scene in front of me.  Shot gun in hand, yellow lab Precious out in front, smelling for pheasants.  We never brought one home, but oh, do I remember our hunting walks.

A goose hunt in Nebraska.  Sitting in a blind, dug below the ground, looking up to a rectangle of sky, hearing geese honking out there somewhere.  I shot the shot gun and had no idea it was an automatic shotgun.  This was quite a surprise and I was embarrassed yet laughed out loud at my ignorance.  White geese overhead.

My first deer.  Shot in the timber down below Chuck's house.  A single slug shot and off she ran.  I was horrified.  How could I miss?  It was a good shot.  With my head hanging, I drug myself up the hill in the direction I came.  And there, in the middle of the harvested soybean field, there she lay - my deer!  Exaltation!

I shot my first elk in Jackson on the Elk Refuge.  An enormous herd of elk came stringing up the hillside and through the gully just below me.  Like my deer, I shot and off ran my elk.  I was again horrified.  A hunter, nearby, asked me if I was going to go get my elk!  There it was, just below the hill.  A nice tender young calf.  I cooked one of its loins on a small Weber charcoal grill that afternoon.  On the deck of my AFrame, the property which 20 years later would buy our 83 acre farm.

Mike and I ride two hours to a hill overlooking a valley.  A cow elk runs below us.  I shoot and she drops.  We walk our mules down the steep hill, gut and quarter this fine elk.  Load her on our mules and begin the climb out of the valley, the two plus hour walk out of the back country.  The snow is deep.  Mike leads, walking, cutting the trail through foot deep snow.  I slog along behind him and his mule.  We stop to break.  He comments, "we may be getting too old for this."  That was at least four years ago. 

There are many who dislike the thought of hunting.  They eat their store bought, cellophane wrapped artificially colored meat - once a living animal - and pontificate on their thought-up vices regarding hunting.  They have never known the golden grasses in the afternoon light, the dog and friend running aside, the ride into the wilderness, the howl of a wolf, the foot prints of a grizzly bear on the trail below one's mount, the silence of a dark night and the wonder of the galaxy above, the wind through drying aspen leaves, the taste of clean mountain spring water, the roar of a hot fire in a canvas tent, the sound of a fuel lantern heating up, the satisfaction of a day spent hunting. 

How lucky are we to hunt.  How lucky are we.

Success

This is a picture of success!  Last weekend, I took the "our honey" box off the two "bee's honey" boxes and harvest exactly this much honey (well, minus the honey licked from my fingers!), captured from the 2018 harvest.

Success? you ask with disbelief.  Yes, success!  The bees have put their work into their honey and if it is a decent winter, that supply might just be enough to get them through the long, cold winter.  We shall see. 

Also success because I don't know what I'm doing!  Harvesting honey is a sticky mess.  Leave the stuff to the bees - I am thrilled with all the pollenated plants!  There are seeds everywhere!  Sunflower seeds, columbine seeds, poppy pods filled with seeds, fuchsia seed pods, and more.  Next year, a hive for Hoback so the cherry flowers will be pollinated and there will be sour cherries!

Thank you our friends the bees.  Thank you for your hard work.  May your hard work take you through the cold, dark winter with ease and plenty of food stores to keep you and your Queen well taken care of.  I'm thinking already of all the lovely flowering plants I can grow for you next season.