White on green

A bit strange to see the snow on green leaves (that haven't really begun to drop yet), and on grass that still looks fresh and nourishing. This is a portent, I think. We will still have some lovely fall weather, even warm and balmy days. But we have been warned.

More of the white stuff

After the skimpy snow-fall we had just the other day it wasn't much of a surprise to wake up to about seven inches on the ground this morning. The temp was 15° and has been holding under freezing all day, so it may stay around for a bit. Down by the river they got 12" or more.

One nice side-effect of the snow is that the reflection of the sun fills the house with light, and that is very pleasant.

All indications are that we are in for a real winter this year.

A poor picture, but...

...he sure is a nice, big boy. Saw him at about 500 yards yesterday, just east of the house on my way out. Didn't have a long lens so had to enlarge a little chunk of a file to even get this much detail. I suspect he was coming out of the federal wilderness area just to the south of my place. He looks to be in very good shape, all set for the rut.

First of the season

Yesterday it was in the 60s but this morning I woke up to snow. It came down pretty hard throughout the morning but never amounted to anything on the ground as it stayed in the high 30s and low 40s all day. But we have forecasts for more of the stuff for the next few days and temps reaching toward 10°. Looks like it's getting to be time to break out all those winter-time inside projects.

¡Bandidos en el camino!

Drove down today to help a friend with a late branding and ran into these galoots. Well, not literally, but close. They don't challenge vehicles and just give way as you press forward but they can be pretty dumb about issues of right of way. These are young ones and they are pretty full of themselves. Kind of like human sophomores. They have a kind of goofy dumheit that is endearing.

Oh, no, Rocky! Not you, too!

Picture from news article. Source unknown.

Yes, it appears that the lovable Rocky Raccoon and relatives have joined the ranks of the Mad As Hells who aren't going to take it anymore. This was discovered up close and personal by a poor woman in Florida who had the misfortune of being mugged and seriously injured by a gang of them. As far as I know this is the first report of a group of raccoons attacking a person.

So now raccoons have joined the fray, along with coyotes who snatch cats and small dogs virtually from the arms of their owners, cougars who pounce on unsuspecting joggers, and bears who suddenly turn grumpy and homicidal. Makes you wonder what is going on, doesn't it?

Well, for one thing when you teach wild critters not to fear and respect you you have a problem. Humans and coyotes are not really meant to live in close proximity. Their politics differ so radically that it's really not a good arrangement for either of them. But as more and more people insist on expanding their habitations into environments which toothy citizens have had to themselves forever, there is bound to be some inter-species unpleasantness.

I'm reminded of folks who build a house in the woods and then call the state game commission to come and remove the bears that insist on wandering into their newly seeded yard and making off with their frisbees. Sensible game commissions tell the new arrivals to "deal with it" because the bears were there first. (There's also the story of the suburban woman who called the game commission and asked them to move the deer crossing sign near her house because too many deer were being killed by automobiles there.)

Most Americans don't know beans about wild things. Thus their sense of horrified betrayal when Rocky grows testy and clamps down on their ankle. That is no way for a lovable cartoon character to act! Nor is it pleasant to contemplate that bunny rabbits have fleas, cute little deer mice can carry bubonic plague, and that adorable little skunklet is a prime carrier of rabies.

Education might help. Fewer people would help even more. Neither are likely to happen. We'll probably be hearing from Rocky again.

Communication

I don't know what they're gossiping about, but they always seem to have plenty to talk about. They could just as easily light in a tree and have some cover. Instead they seem to prefer to be out in the open where they can enjoy the view. I'd give a shiny new quarter to know the latest topic of conversation.

Emma— ready to roll

Another dog post? Well, what did you expect?

My Emma is a big bitch— she stands 26" at the withers and weighs 65 pounds in hunting trim, as she is right now. She presents the image of a dog ready for anything and indeed she is. (More than a few males have tried to bully her and failed, sometimes with comic results. She will not be put upon and if she could talk would probably say "I can take care of myself!")

She's a pleasure to hunt with. She works close, is attentive to where I am and to voice, whistle, and hand signals. She also just about completely ignores other hunters and dogs when she's working, even when she knows them. Her points are stylish and rock-solid.

She has some faults, of course. She is a poor retriever, probably the result of working as a pup with dogs that did retrieve well and didn't give her much of a chance at that job. I also confess to being a lazy trainer on that score and letting her slide. She'll also sometimes strike a beautiful point on a spot where birds were but are no longer in residence. Other than those, she's a good worker and a pleasure to be afield with.

If you like dogs and enjoy hunting with one, you bond with them. It's a strange and powerful phenomenon that can't really be understood unless you experience it yourself. It's primal I suppose. Emma and I have bonded and I consider myself enriched by it. I don't think she cares: she just wants to hunt.

We're both looking forward to some good hunting together later this fall.

Neighbor critters

My neighbor to the east and the north raises bison on his place. I'm not sure but I think he just bought another place over east and now has 90,000 acres. He runs about 5000 buffs on this. He's been taking out his cross-fences and I think his pastures now average about 15,000 acres. Eventually he will have no cross fencing at all. This view of the hillside is on his westernmost section, nearest to me. It's about a mile away in this picture.

Buffalo are wanderers. They come by here from time to time, but there is no predicting when that will be. The last time I saw them on this hillside was in the early summer.

When the addiction strikes

I've already confessed to being a chili addict. And when the addiction strikes, as it does frequently, out comes the big pot and the drama begins!

I keep telling myself that I am going to start with dry black beans and do the work-up from all basic ingredients. Usually though, I use cans of Kuners of Colorado 'Black Beans with Jalopeños.' Cheating I guess, but it works for me. About ten cans of Kuners, a few pounds of lean, grass-fed ground beef (sautéed separately with garlic and cumin and then added to the pot), and lots of spices. Those long thingies floating on top are dried guajillo peppers. They have become essential to my chili pots. Also used is a lot of ground ancho chili, plus some ground hot chilis. The guajillos and anchos are not hot, but add a sweet, dark, smoky flavor to the chili that I really like and have come to insist upon. Add a little Mexican oregano, some more cumin, a few dashes of Penzey's Chili 9000 mix, some whole-kernel sweet corn, a dash of chocolate powder, and a chopped onion and let it simmer a few hours. This is a rich, dark chili for which "flavorful" is an understatement.

Only two gallons this time, but it will hold me for a while. The next batch will use cubed venison.

Enthusiasm

Anyone who is blessed enough to be "owned by a bird-dog" knows the syndrome: they are energized by the coming of fall.

Emma begins to get The Fever in late August, when the cast of light changes and the mornings are crisp and cool. Her ears take a different set; her eyes shine and glisten; she insists on going out early to make her rounds; she also insists that I go with her, as if she has something she wants to show me. Usually, though, she goes on her first rounds by herself.

The ranchstead here consists of about ten acres that are fenced off from the cattle. This little 'compound' is made up of some old buildings, my house and shop building, two long tree lines, some evergreens, several large brush piles, a dozen or so big round hay bales, and a myriad of coverts of brush and weeds.

In the morning, Emma is frantic to make the rounds of her domain. I let her out and she is moaning and whimpering with anticipation as she rushes down the stairs of the porch and heads off into her first adventure of the day. She knows she is to stay inside the wire and to check back with me every half hour or so, and so she does. She'll come back to the door, bark, and wait for me. If she hasn't finished her sport she will move to the steps and wait for me to release her again, and then off she goes to continue the Great Exploration for another half hour.

Her life is complete, and can only get better when bird season finally begins and the rambles will include me, and 'our' Browning.

For her, it's perfect happiness such as I think we poor humans can seldom, if ever, know.

That time of year, again

October arrives and thoughts turn to... woodpiles. Fireplaces. Gray days with a warm fire in the grate, good book in hand, and a dog stretched tummy-to-blaze on her rug.

I haven't had a fire yet, but the time is coming. Fortunately, I still have a good supply of wood ready from last year. It's already stacked under the porch waiting to be transferred to the covered area near the door.

In a way I am looking forward to the coming winter. Many "inside" projects have been put off through the summer and I have a full plate of them. More than enough to keep me happily busy.

Firewood is such a simple thing to be enthusiastic about. Such is life here.