tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39082747750294353872024-03-05T04:02:32.047-07:00Notes From The American OutbackRandom jottings from the High PlainsRio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.comBlogger686125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-27816273319076732972015-07-26T15:16:00.000-06:002015-07-26T15:16:13.088-06:00On Green Mountain<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Early in July, on the 1st actually, the dogs and I drove to the top of Green Mountain, in Wyoming, to spend a week or so in that very special place. <br /><br />I had stumbled upon Green Mountain in 1970 when on my way to the Grand Tetons and then the Pacific coast. I went back for the first time last year, forty-four years later. A few things had changed — like a rudimentary BLM campground about half way up that hadn’t been there on my first trip — but for the most part not much had changed. Many of the larger trees had been logged off and had been replaced by second-growth, now thirty or so feet high.<br /><br />Last year we had camped at the edge of a flat meadow, at the very top of the mountain at slightly over 9100-feet. The Green Mountains are home to 300-400 wild horses, mustangs, that have been there for a very long time. One band of them would come out onto the meadow almost every day, graze for an hour or so, and then go off to wherever they had come from in the first place. <br />
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This year we camped on the opposite side of that same meadow, and saw the same band of horses, plus a couple of colts. As if they were ‘used to’ us they came closer to our camp and stayed longer this time. Emma, Miss Bossy Boots, reminded them several times that they were to keep their distance. Jack was indifferent to them. He thought they were interesting to watch, for a while, but he quickly got bored with them and found something more exciting to do. Eventually I shooed them away as with horses come flies, and these flies seemed to think our camp was a bonanza of fresh meat. <br />
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In addition to the mustangs, Green Mountain is home to elk, whitetail and mule deer, black bear, lions, moose, and — courtesy of the government — a wolf pack introduced there a few years back. None of the meat-eaters showed up. Something I was not disappointed about.<br />
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This was the first away-from-home outing for the moto-pony and it did yeoman service. It amply vindicated my judgment that it was the tool I need for exploration and access to back-country places— with cameras and tripod, too. Jack and I made 4-5 mile runs almost every day, sometimes more than one. He reveled in it.<br />
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The ‘peak’ of Green Mountain is actually a five mile long plateau, with a slightly higher eastern bump. All along this plateau are wonderful views of the Great Divide Basin. The Oregon Trail and the Pony Express route run close by on the north side. Landmarks eighty miles away could be clearly seen on a day without haze.<br />
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On the south side of the mountain the ground falls off steeply. There are jeep and ATV-trails down that side, but they are steep, rocky, often deeply rutted, and in many places even jeeps are warned off them. On two separate occasions I made the journey down and back with Wyoming friends who are experienced back-country ATVers and motorcyclists. I managed to dump the bike three times on one expedition, but all were low-speed wrecks with no damage to me or the bike. I did learn that this was not a place to ride alone. Much too dangerous. One of my friends, much younger than I, had broken ribs back there and had to be carted out. If it could happen to him, it could happen to me much more easily. (The sign, courtesy of a nameless BLM wag, says "Main Road.")<br />
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We stayed two weeks on this trip and we’re hoping to get back to Green Mountain in September.<br />
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<br />Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-81242549434243283652015-06-17T14:30:00.000-06:002015-06-17T14:34:35.800-06:00Running over snakes<a href="http://imgur.com/TLYCSJp"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/TLYCSJp.jpg" height="213" title="source: imgur.com" width="320" /></a><br />
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A few days ago I was on my motorbike going to a distant pasture and I ran over this fellow. I saw him too late and all I could do was avoid putting on the brakes. I stopped and went back. He seemed unhurt, and very angry at me. I was glad I hadn't hurt or killed him as he is a bull snake and an excellent mouser. Some folks value them because they believe they kill poisonous snakes. We have no rattlers here so that's not really a reason for me to protect them.<br />
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I called Jack over to see the snake and was very pleased to see that he didn't want any part of it, staying very close to me in the proper heel position and just looking on with mild interest and, I imagined, some distaste. I can smell a large snake myself so I can imagine what it must be like for dogs. Some dogs have to be conditioned to avoid snakes, but Jack has been blessed with some aversion towards them since puppyhood— something I have been happy to encourage.<br />
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And darned if the very next day I didn't run over another one on the road, also on the moto-pony. Again he was uninjured and again he was very disappointed in my treatment of him. In both cases the heavy lugs on the tires and the soft ground kept them from being injured. Of which I am glad.Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-84312222147080424842015-06-15T17:28:00.000-06:002015-06-15T17:28:45.393-06:00Mus kingtutticus<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am working on cleaning out and rearranging my shop building. This deceased citizen was in the bottom of one of the boxes I am triaging and discarding. There was a kind of macabre beauty to him and so I had to photograph the <i>corpus</i>. Few small corpses survive so well. There were evidently no flies available to give him the last rites so I assume he perished during the winter. He will have no sarcophagus, and no tomb, but he has been memorialized, in a way. <br /><br />Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-39514835098867708562015-06-15T17:12:00.001-06:002015-06-15T17:12:55.330-06:00Another branding<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On Friday I went to a roundup and branding that I have attended for almost a decade now. It's always a good event, attended by a fine group of riders and ropers. And of course the BBQ at the end is worth the trip alone!<br />
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These events are the 'social events of the season' and I get a chance to see neighbors I haven't seen since the last one. It's a time of good fellowship, gentle ribbing, and hard work. Two batches of 250 calves each were handled between about 7 in the morning and noon. It went very smoothly and no one got hurt. That is how a rancher evaluates his branding: if no one got hurt, it was a good 'un.Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-9070349809374964182015-06-15T17:04:00.002-06:002015-06-15T17:04:50.702-06:00Jack Report<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am very happy to report-- ecstatic would be more like it!-- that Jack is doing fine. The vet prescribed a one-month of antibiotics and at the end of that, late last week, his x-rays showed no signs of the spots that had appeared on the first set. That means that what we saw on the films was not cancer, but rather some unidentified infection that the drugs knocked in the head.<br />
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Since we don't know what the infection was I will have to keep a close eye on him in the weeks ahead. But for now 'all is well' and I couldn't be more pleased. <br />
<br />Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-56603526111539402102015-05-25T12:13:00.000-06:002015-05-25T12:13:21.888-06:00This is getting ridiculous<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Rain, rain, and more rain. Not the insistent downpours my friends in Texas are getting, but a steady, day by day rain that keeps you inside while the grass grows, and grows, and grows. It may be good for ranchers (who are, after all, grass farmers) but it can be unnerving for those who would like to be outside. Like my dawgz. We've gotten over 6" so far in May, and that's about half of our annual rainfall.<br />
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Yesterday, though, we got the first weather window in a couple of weeks: a lovely Sunday afternoon with warm sun and balmy breezes. It allowed me to get out and do some jungle-hacking with a weed-eater as well as a few more outdoor chores. But then, as the day waned, the sky 'stormed up' and it looked like a return to the days of gloom and rainfall. And, sure enough, it rained again over-night.<br />
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The forecast is for another week, at least, of the same. Going to town for me involves about seventeen miles of tarred two-track and then another seventeen miles of dirt. Given even two days of rain, or a sudden soaking downpour, the dirt becomes gumbo and virtually impassable, even for a 4WD vehicle.<br />
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We'll be needing dogfood toward the end of the week, rain or no rain.<br />
<br />Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-24104132580528838912015-05-22T20:28:00.001-06:002015-05-22T20:28:52.767-06:00My Jack is Sick<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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How sick remains to be seen.<br />
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He developed a cough on our trip. Not extreme, but intermittent. At a recent routine exam/vaccination visit to my vet, he thought some x-rays might be in order. The radiographs revealed spots on his lymph nodes.<br />
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Since we had been in the desert Southwest, and since Jack had been digging in pursuit of the elusive marmot, Desert Fever of course reared its ugly head. A serum sample was sent off to the vet school clinic at Fort Collins. A week of tenterhooks, for me, followed.<br />
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The report came back negative for VF. That's good news, in itself, but opens up the specter of lymphoma. My vet, in whom I have great confidence, felt that Jack was not presenting as had most of the dogs he had seen who had turned out to have a lymphoma condition. So a 21-day course of antibiotics was launched, to combat some other, unknown, infection. Jack is on day three. At the end of the 21-days a new set of x-rays will be made. If there is no improvement it will mean a trip to Fort Collins and an aspirant biopsy.<br />
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I am so afraid of lymphoma. My last three males died of some sort of cancer before their time.<br />
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Fortunately, Jack shows no sign of illness except for an occasional gagging cough. Today a bit of that, y'day none at all. I do so hope that is a good sign. He is active, appetite good, spirits normal. I would give a finger or two to keep it that way.Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-51910492488893288522015-05-21T12:20:00.000-06:002015-05-21T12:20:04.090-06:00The Two-wheel Solution, Part the Second<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs_DT2hACUbJ9u0J2bbtq5lfKaWYl3MSye-b2cDgXxcix0sKIPMGXZiQnsR8a5Ur2mBt_f030UJzft5nn7K2qdg4rKjL-KXPzgrwZkpc-vSwjLMvUn5Ht48TOPyuwkZVxUDt2L61WdBKI/s1600/ash+creek+camp+road-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs_DT2hACUbJ9u0J2bbtq5lfKaWYl3MSye-b2cDgXxcix0sKIPMGXZiQnsR8a5Ur2mBt_f030UJzft5nn7K2qdg4rKjL-KXPzgrwZkpc-vSwjLMvUn5Ht48TOPyuwkZVxUDt2L61WdBKI/s320/ash+creek+camp+road-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Later we camped for a few weeks in the Prescott National Forest. The urge to explore and reach out into the countryside got even stronger. There were miles and miles of NF roads and trails and ranch roads that begged to be ridden, explored, photographed. I did the best I could with the fine little bike, and got a lot done, but realized that there had to be a better way for an ol' guy to get around in such country and not be deprived of any Go-See compulsions.<br />
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When I got home I made the decision:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWW7Nfx18m0sB8zObisQqW2Ae4UJh6c4jux2u9un7ZLrfVlYmjVb_oB732Smf9B6lPU9z9WWDrketLM5UBmKcLYiDdyFkPbx4FSUXf5RmUNEBTc-AC9321TvhYu6nT17Red9nFohko9FI/s1600/crf100-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWW7Nfx18m0sB8zObisQqW2Ae4UJh6c4jux2u9un7ZLrfVlYmjVb_oB732Smf9B6lPU9z9WWDrketLM5UBmKcLYiDdyFkPbx4FSUXf5RmUNEBTc-AC9321TvhYu6nT17Red9nFohko9FI/s320/crf100-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
There were weight considerations, since I intended carrying the moto-pony in a special carrier on the back of the trailer. I figured that less than two-hundred pounds was the limit. Reliability was also a serious issue. Getting ten miles out in the desert is great; getting back is even greater. The 100cc Honda fit the bill on both counts. Only 10HP and 170-pounds but it's a peppy little cayuse and will take me where I want to go and get me back to camp without a lot of stress. I also appreciate that Honda says it has a "bullet-proof power plant." I don't take that literally, but I know about Honda reliability from other equipment I own and it is very reassuring. I have several months to get used to it here on the place and on a couple of summer trips before we get back to the Southwest next winter. I'm looking forward to it.<br /><br />Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-77886478335232153602015-05-21T12:01:00.001-06:002015-05-21T13:23:53.552-06:00Western Arizona & The Two-wheel Solution<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuPBpJgGMfhSSiJV8-yfViJDBUhbVs6PVpDjBDK5vwkS1MbuVtCTWdW5zwkXuvMK-YbSkJrZqoHN6voMrbVE-YnduDJQYF73LTG50w5dJOInkGRRtGwC0HwEJlnZ4bpdNSEbVoX2xskS4/s1600/sunrise+from+our+q-site+camp-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuPBpJgGMfhSSiJV8-yfViJDBUhbVs6PVpDjBDK5vwkS1MbuVtCTWdW5zwkXuvMK-YbSkJrZqoHN6voMrbVE-YnduDJQYF73LTG50w5dJOInkGRRtGwC0HwEJlnZ4bpdNSEbVoX2xskS4/s320/sunrise+from+our+q-site+camp-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Sunrise from our camp west of Quartzsite. Quartzsite is a very strange place indeed. It has the air of a carnival, and the overall feeling is that you will come back in the morning to find everything, and everyone gone, nothing left but a few tent pegs and some discarded beer bottles. We camped about seven miles west of the town itself and thus avoided much of the sleaze.<br />
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I found myself wanting to explore more of the desert than I could manage on foot, so I decided to buy a bicycle. I made the trip down to Yuma and came back with a nice hybrid mountain bike. </div>
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The bike worked a treat, but I found the going (i.e., pedaling) pretty hard work on most of the desert terrain. As much as I liked the bike I realized that if I were to have real access to the desert I would need something that catered a little more to this Ol' Guy's abilities. The story continues...</div>
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<br />Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-76903605091567194282015-05-20T07:52:00.001-06:002015-05-20T07:52:43.447-06:00Late May on the High Plains<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH8Oox09_cdhOQzhYx38pKuOWFnoRdef0uUZeL2TCew3RNgFrgjsjGXLdIrm5q8z_e6ugCr5LhqCQVcRV0g1xo2KydBTRFrXMKjKhZmzoGJKcNt44eAecsvYg7cU1-xyPNUJgPXk1gIPU/s1600/late+may+on+the+plains.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH8Oox09_cdhOQzhYx38pKuOWFnoRdef0uUZeL2TCew3RNgFrgjsjGXLdIrm5q8z_e6ugCr5LhqCQVcRV0g1xo2KydBTRFrXMKjKhZmzoGJKcNt44eAecsvYg7cU1-xyPNUJgPXk1gIPU/s320/late+may+on+the+plains.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
About three inches yesterday and overnight. For this I returned from Arizona? Shouldn't complain though, as we have had killer blizzards later than this.Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-65724962468252760982015-05-19T17:55:00.000-06:002015-05-19T17:55:23.103-06:00Jack and the Doves<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW2dpAeqdTJuvxuQAiFsP-fPd9cjTl57W0q5lykiAi1RVfxAMlW8SUdtPu2nmqmyOZ2THoV0lvsoRQ5pXDw9Obd24AIkvpD_CN6E6hTneY4JA0tKXnwPu28bY7yY2mu_bWnxHMJ7MWFE8/s1600/jack+does+the+lowdown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW2dpAeqdTJuvxuQAiFsP-fPd9cjTl57W0q5lykiAi1RVfxAMlW8SUdtPu2nmqmyOZ2THoV0lvsoRQ5pXDw9Obd24AIkvpD_CN6E6hTneY4JA0tKXnwPu28bY7yY2mu_bWnxHMJ7MWFE8/s320/jack+does+the+lowdown.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Where we stayed for that month in New Mexico was surrounded by desert flatland-- at the foot of the Chiricahuas to the west and the Peloncillos on the east. My Shorthairs, Jack and Emma, loved to take long, rambling walks in the desert. There were plenty of doves and occasionally quail for them to sniff out, point, and wonder at why I did not have the Browning.<br />
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They have different hunting styles, those two. Em stays erect and moves gracefully from thicket to thicket, head up and alert. Jack, on the other hand, 'does the lowdown.' When he gets birdy he crouches as low as he can get and glides across the ground. When he's really on the prod he scrapes his chest.<br />
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I love watching them work.Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-5085280900712645512015-05-19T10:15:00.003-06:002015-05-19T10:15:45.720-06:00Rodeo, New Mexico<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhPmOw7rGScDk-msn3-47xGJPSE7vJ79aVYWWzEilNBLAYDfXv6wxLiLrMN2YQcHrsZzd_Kn7DovuXGxM_DbOnFAvDBHejdbFfx_1Hq3d0UoikWXD6piJ6RR-cETKuQZZbMXxcS5FCaCk/s1600/rodeo+nm+web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhPmOw7rGScDk-msn3-47xGJPSE7vJ79aVYWWzEilNBLAYDfXv6wxLiLrMN2YQcHrsZzd_Kn7DovuXGxM_DbOnFAvDBHejdbFfx_1Hq3d0UoikWXD6piJ6RR-cETKuQZZbMXxcS5FCaCk/s320/rodeo+nm+web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />This is it. Rodeo. Did I mention that there was not much there? The café (called, suprisingly, The Rodeo Café) is the building with the <i>balcón</i>. Makes me hungry just lookin' at it!Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-15193948825109151752015-05-19T10:07:00.000-06:002015-05-19T10:08:23.679-06:00In New Mexico<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh64aLCtzKyNgIuxUUEpu3BoL6Qmh7VP2K4nLcovOmFxWby89VDoaBtsbyCyzfFB_oy_uSqYW8raNusl34UUyXX0p3ETtmL-mrMkkap50BZhv3B-NdIo6JVMeiUMEr1FvUU7ukegC0YxxI/s1600/chiricahua+sunset+141228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh64aLCtzKyNgIuxUUEpu3BoL6Qmh7VP2K4nLcovOmFxWby89VDoaBtsbyCyzfFB_oy_uSqYW8raNusl34UUyXX0p3ETtmL-mrMkkap50BZhv3B-NdIo6JVMeiUMEr1FvUU7ukegC0YxxI/s320/chiricahua+sunset+141228.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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We started our Southwestern <i>hegira</i> in New Mexico, after spending about a week in Texas. I am not one for 'RV parks,' preferring instead to boondock-- camping off by ourselves in remote areas and depending on the solar rig and the generator to give us what power and creature-comforts we need.<br />
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But we found a really different kind of RV park in New Mexico, fifty miles from the border at Douglas, AZ, and just a few miles north of the tiny village of Rodeo. We liked it so much we stayed for a month. The Chiricahuas loomed to the west and made a great backdrop for those awesome sunsets, of which there were many.<br />
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This was pleasant living: we had water, sewer, and electricity hook-ups and there was wifi right to the trailer. What more could we want? And because the 'lots' were huge we never felt crowded.<br />
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Rodeo was a hop and a skip away. There isn't much there, but they do have a café where I dined often. The <i>huevos rancheros</i> there, for breakfast, were the best I've ever had. Be worth going back for them alone!Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-74392242625941000142015-05-18T16:51:00.001-06:002015-05-18T17:47:15.820-06:00Back on the home-ranch...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6-8wnExPlrZdqsNkldfR6Rt6ToSs0uSsex-fiWF5AW3UAfHFmZkX2RyGUxhk3E3qQtalB2zY5kUWHdcN0fFXZd1_PEqO8CD5rEaB5ZqlLJmQNoBbkIFtLyCBtcK1mGtA0v-OjXRE0dHM/s1600/ash-creek-camp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6-8wnExPlrZdqsNkldfR6Rt6ToSs0uSsex-fiWF5AW3UAfHFmZkX2RyGUxhk3E3qQtalB2zY5kUWHdcN0fFXZd1_PEqO8CD5rEaB5ZqlLJmQNoBbkIFtLyCBtcK1mGtA0v-OjXRE0dHM/s320/ash-creek-camp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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We're back. After 4.5 months (140 days) and almost 9000 miles of vagabondage! A great trip through the Southwest, where we boondocked in many wonderful spots.I don't know who was happier with our gypsy life: me or the pupz. <br />
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I owe an apology to regulars to my blog for my non-attention. I'd like to remedy that, but we'll have to see how that works out.<br />
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I'll try to post some updates on our trip. Bear with me, friends!Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-26539089334577102032014-06-09T18:36:00.000-06:002014-06-09T18:36:10.263-06:00Not to forget MIss Mags!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0lUEIVb65-g2-8_cGsK1eDDAUUtw7p_u3SyXlGJ0cezRzR2NVxVcjlKsvpEHXTbyLkbYdi43ZUo-EWKlWc_VCDeRfq6kfUORWwD57f46xn7OG1CNyOLmDWNMS9WE71hnjPCH3OQFqfJQ/s1600/mags+in+otra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0lUEIVb65-g2-8_cGsK1eDDAUUtw7p_u3SyXlGJ0cezRzR2NVxVcjlKsvpEHXTbyLkbYdi43ZUo-EWKlWc_VCDeRfq6kfUORWwD57f46xn7OG1CNyOLmDWNMS9WE71hnjPCH3OQFqfJQ/s1600/mags+in+otra.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
Miss Mags. She is not the outdoor dog that the other two are. We hit some pretty cold weather, even got snowed on, and she found herself much happier in the trailer. I think the trailer is her favorite place in the whole world.<br /><br />I shouldn’t blame this entirely on her, but being a Boston Terrier her obedience factor is in inverse proportion to how far away from me she is. Under 25’ and she is an angel of compliance. Over 50’ and she can’t hear me for beans. Thus, she spent a good bit of her outside time on a lead attached to a sand-spike. She actually didn’t seem to mind the restriction very much, finding all sorts of trouble to get into within the reach of her tether. It’s not all her fault: she didn’t get the kind of intense training the Shorthairs did. All my fault.<br /><br />She also hates cameras. Bring one out and she refuses to look at it and will try to go “somewhere else.” This one, above, is a purely lucky grab shot that I got away with before she realized what was happening. Her lens-aversion is the main reason I have so few good pix of her. Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-84314733747545116712014-06-08T10:28:00.002-06:002014-06-08T12:36:23.599-06:00The venerable .45 Colt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I haven’t written on a gun topic in a very long time. But here’s a recent addition to the stable that I thought some folks might enjoy seeing.<br />
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It’s one of the Lipsey’s special-run Rugers on the smaller, flat-top frame, of which I am a great fan. It’s a .45 Colt with an auxiliary .45 Auto cylinder, which makes it a very versatile handgun indeed.<br />
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This is the first 5-1/2” barrel I’ve ever owned. I prefer the 4-3/4” (4-5/8” in the case of Rugers), or the 6.5” or 7.5” barrels. I’ve just never cared for the looks of the “artillery” model. It's an esthetic thing, and not ballistic or mechanical.<br />
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<i>NOTE: The original Colt single-action army revolver, adopted by the army in 1873, eventually appeared in three different standard barrel lengths: the 7-1/2”, or “cavalry” model; the 5-1/2” or “artillery” model; and the 4-3/4”, or “civilian” model. Why Ruger decided to shorten the 4-3/4” to 4-5/8” is unknown to me.</i><br />
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Anyway, the 5-1/2”-er is really growing on me. It hangs very well, and so far the few groups that I have shot with it are completely satisfactory.<br />
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I have no doubt that this revolver will be sharing our wild-country rambles in the near future.Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-90012629083744156442014-06-08T09:35:00.000-06:002014-06-08T09:35:03.531-06:00Emma<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJpgHToqRK7MhdcqvvRW5siwEob2jYEUCFDQ-sObv4Hed2haAvktFTk55tzaeq3wjNx8kzuo3hwaSKq94WZVFq_FKKR3BVQai1kba6CsCVqi-P8yCy-F8XM_WYL9MM8-7iF3guw8s8PQ/s1600/em+wading-blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJpgHToqRK7MhdcqvvRW5siwEob2jYEUCFDQ-sObv4Hed2haAvktFTk55tzaeq3wjNx8kzuo3hwaSKq94WZVFq_FKKR3BVQai1kba6CsCVqi-P8yCy-F8XM_WYL9MM8-7iF3guw8s8PQ/s1600/em+wading-blog.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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While Jack had nothing but exuberant enthusiasm for our recent two-week-+ trip into wild places, Emma ran him a close second with her quiet, but intense, enjoyment of places that she loves.<br />
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Emma is twelve-and-a-half, which is getting up there for Shorthairs. In her case she has several fused disks at the base of her spine, is dysplastic, and also going blind— which I have only recently discovered. When we took walks she would sometimes lose sight of us and her near-panic was obvious as she tried to figure out where we were. So I took to talking to her almost constantly and waving my arms when she would turn her head my way. This evidently pleased and reassured her as her tail was in almost constant motion.<br />
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She has always loved streams and creeks and so if there was one without reach, that's where we headed. Playing paddy-tootsie in a cool creek is definitely one of her premium delights. Jack is not as fond of water as she is, but he humored her.<br />
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Dogs give us everything, without stint, and if we can't give back some of that as they need us most then we shouldn't have the privilege of living with them in the first place. Anyway, that's my story...Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-75303156471974105552014-06-07T17:33:00.002-06:002014-06-07T17:33:38.825-06:00Jack the Ham<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl-H9zrRk9F7a293092PiH7lvpgh772O7QWgw6fzQlOSZpvL-RGfeIZ308Z2apj73rceg_ThPwDzfIU5dn9miIaXC-yjEDcqcJpeowSRg6aro46p92K8TG29fUkyLXZj3_HLSRA8aV26I/s1600/jack-o-the-wild-blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl-H9zrRk9F7a293092PiH7lvpgh772O7QWgw6fzQlOSZpvL-RGfeIZ308Z2apj73rceg_ThPwDzfIU5dn9miIaXC-yjEDcqcJpeowSRg6aro46p92K8TG29fUkyLXZj3_HLSRA8aV26I/s1600/jack-o-the-wild-blog.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
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Those who know Jack know that he is the consummate ham. Point a camera at him and he starts posing. Where this comes from I have no idea-- except perhaps that I give him a firm "Whoa!" when he is in a position I like for the camera.<br />
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He was in heaven on our Wyoming trip. The terrain suited him to a T-- from really icky bogs to rocky mountain trails with huge boulders to scramble up and down.<br />
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The only feature we were unable to find on the last trip was a nice stream for Em to play in and me to walk in looking for "mountain water" to photograph. That will be high on our list for the next trip.Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-14207924869760675852014-06-07T17:23:00.001-06:002014-06-07T17:45:12.613-06:00The High Country<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Y6U5gcjF19kbkLUfEd3mOVQBM0zCGmgdOfdmbm31x17vXD4G0b12bbns4zUZBTjbI3D-JbGRQNfIDGAQQVSqDqCt9nIfoIZdCpmsRHctOAF9j1PCXtwjLoiSI4tBXhw75W605qGZTAc/s1600/wyo-1-blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Y6U5gcjF19kbkLUfEd3mOVQBM0zCGmgdOfdmbm31x17vXD4G0b12bbns4zUZBTjbI3D-JbGRQNfIDGAQQVSqDqCt9nIfoIZdCpmsRHctOAF9j1PCXtwjLoiSI4tBXhw75W605qGZTAc/s1600/wyo-1-blog.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
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Trying again with the pics.<br />
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The Wyoming high-country is addictive. I've got some things that have to be done this week coming up, but then we are going to go back. Perhaps for the rest of June. The dogs seem to like it as much as I do. Jack especially. He couldn't get enough of our walks and the chance to explore.Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-46291450259379859642014-06-03T17:30:00.003-06:002014-06-07T17:40:15.546-06:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Good grief! Has it been that long? Well, it is what it is so no apologies.<br />
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The pupz and I have just returned from a two-week-+ roll-about to try to shake off a bad case of cabin fever induced by a pretty bad winter. The trip was a great success. All winter I was concerned about my oldest, Emma, as she is badly crippled with fused disks, dysplasia, and arthritis. But she weathered the winter, and enjoyed the trip as much as I have ever seen her enjoy anything. It was a great pleasure to see her smile constantly with the pleasure of it. (Dogs <i>do</i> smile, as any dog person will tell you.)<br />
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The picture shows one of the places we camped on our trip. Look in the upper right of the rocks. Do you see the profile of a big dog, looking to the left? I called this Big Dog Rocks, as it had no name on the map.<br />
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I'll post a few more pix from our trip.<br />
<br />Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-59036074324739459262013-10-20T21:02:00.001-06:002013-10-20T21:02:30.582-06:00And yet again...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuch0tiq7cRj92MOjQv8-umaH6M5NL0abAmC7Lzg0uoX4Gfqlwuocv9rEeUx-KFcUea4RgyyhJab5iBPcnjDqrcX2IjR8n_uONJw0BeOjkG6EbNTS6bsvlquA4Ka5GQ7kann8qZ6jlh1o/s1600/sunset+131018-1-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuch0tiq7cRj92MOjQv8-umaH6M5NL0abAmC7Lzg0uoX4Gfqlwuocv9rEeUx-KFcUea4RgyyhJab5iBPcnjDqrcX2IjR8n_uONJw0BeOjkG6EbNTS6bsvlquA4Ka5GQ7kann8qZ6jlh1o/s320/sunset+131018-1-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
By now everyone who checks in here from time to time must be downright sick of seeing this damn windpump. I can only plead that it is in my "front yard" (285 yards away) and I can't help photographing it in the myriad different lights that play upon it. I guess it's a compulsion. Wouldn't doubt that this is the most photographed High Plains windpump to ever squeak in a brisk westerly.<br />
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God bless Aermotors, wherever they are. They are the lifeblood of the plains.Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-10296764270767832162013-10-20T11:18:00.001-06:002013-10-20T11:18:47.940-06:00You asked for it!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh706P95xd8LU5703HOUNnIS_T2K4e1HA3m6MrxLdHhwiROsyYJ05hF1IcfqQOQ10zdxmm9CY2RvNHs3EQLBPM8rxxX7QyFVQlL35UXwqYxr93rBWQTgLIwUXHGW-266kD8S5xcL3byViE/s1600/jack+as+oil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh706P95xd8LU5703HOUNnIS_T2K4e1HA3m6MrxLdHhwiROsyYJ05hF1IcfqQOQ10zdxmm9CY2RvNHs3EQLBPM8rxxX7QyFVQlL35UXwqYxr93rBWQTgLIwUXHGW-266kD8S5xcL3byViE/s320/jack+as+oil.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Well, not <i>everybody</i> asked for it. But BobF said a recent pic of Jack afield would make a good oil. So I whipped out my pallette, squirted some oil paints on it, found my mink-hair brushes, and dashed off a quickee. Enjoy, Bob.<br />
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(You might have to click on it to embiggify it.) <br />
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:)<br />
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<br />Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-34789493174935162982013-10-15T09:18:00.001-06:002013-10-15T09:18:09.527-06:00The long road home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbiCJs2ZjD99gbRJQhPxcYqFptJMdQoZUbbBiOusu3JmgxNYwRc8yt33PVOPI7w82NMrtamLkLJHr2cPwh9lAiovRITze99IAGtoO-O0n4AivOhRtdLYJRrYISft2pOGJkEJqrfmahQms/s1600/stormy+road+131010-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbiCJs2ZjD99gbRJQhPxcYqFptJMdQoZUbbBiOusu3JmgxNYwRc8yt33PVOPI7w82NMrtamLkLJHr2cPwh9lAiovRITze99IAGtoO-O0n4AivOhRtdLYJRrYISft2pOGJkEJqrfmahQms/s320/stormy+road+131010-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Last week I had to take Jack to the vet for his routine rabies shot. None of the other dogs needed anything so he and I made the trip alone. Our regular vet is 80 miles away. There is one closer, only 35 miles, but I like the regular vet to see the dogs regularly. I also like the dogs to see the vet! For the most part they enjoy their trips to see him, and the great staff that pampers them and makes them feel special. Despite their nervousness their tails are always going a mile a minute.<br />
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I live at just about the mid-point of a north-south one-lane road (called a "two-track") that runs between two east-west secondary roads 70 miles apart. Well, actually I live two miles off to one side of that road and not on it. As we returned from the vet I could see a storm developing to the south, and could watch it move from east to west. There were a few lightning strikes, but not many. At the point I took the snapshot above we were yet about ten miles from home, but we managed to make it before the brunt of the storm hit. In the end it didn't amount to much at our place and all we got was a nice little spate of welcome rain. Most of it was well south of us.<br />
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By the way, I noticed the other day that our two track, which is about half paved and half dirt, does not even appear on the official state highway map. That's OK by me.<br />
<br />Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-83348210333071526672013-10-15T09:02:00.000-06:002013-10-15T09:02:01.757-06:00Autumn sunset<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkEOS8an2OcYBpKrteS5QWo_g3oDMRlzfCOmi2y_uBBI_Y2x_XY7nZzs0hUoOlTFFaVA3_HTr6qZ0S1R_1SZ6rI7Peo8RWivbmknIYOquvFR1Zif67dU-S6uLKIUF6B7p7UzPAnocJXqI/s1600/fall+sunset+131012-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkEOS8an2OcYBpKrteS5QWo_g3oDMRlzfCOmi2y_uBBI_Y2x_XY7nZzs0hUoOlTFFaVA3_HTr6qZ0S1R_1SZ6rI7Peo8RWivbmknIYOquvFR1Zif67dU-S6uLKIUF6B7p7UzPAnocJXqI/s320/fall+sunset+131012-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The other day we had a wonderful golden sunset. This is common this time of year. But it is a fleeting thing, gone in a minute or less. I sometimes see a really fine one, but by the time I get the camera it is gone. But that's what a photographer does: chases light, light that is never the same again and when it passes it is gone forever. <i>Photography</i> means "light writing." I like the Irish better: <i>griangrafadoireacht</i>, "the craft of sun-writing."<br />
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This is a good time of year for sin-writers. If they are quick enough!Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3908274775029435387.post-13841649374143176572013-10-14T17:29:00.001-06:002013-10-14T17:29:44.959-06:00The call of the fall...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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These cool mornings, with a bit of chill in the air, energize Jack like nothing else can. He won't take no for answer and I almost always succumb to his entreaties and take him, and me, for a nice long ramble. There's nothing quite like being afield with a good dog— and friend— like Jack. He could do this sort of thing, inside our wire, on his own. There's plenty of ground to explore there. But NO, he has to have me come along, too. He's almost like a little kid: "Come and watch how good I hunt!"<br />
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So I go, and watch, and am pleased and energized myself.<br />
<br />Rio Arribahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00419797863330620382noreply@blogger.com4