Crooked Creek carvings

The weather is improving and during Connie's last trip here we were able to get a few things done  at the house and take some day trips as well, but first a Jessie up date!

After her "fly about" where-in she was gone for 6 days. She seems to have settled in a bit more. She did go back into her mews for a couple of nights and I went out to feed her just as I always had, through the wire at her window ledge.

Two days ago she was gone before I got up and I didn't see her all day long. Then in the evening she was sitting on top of Hope's weathering area roof. I got a glove and offered her some food. She played coy and flew around a bit before settling back on the roof, and came down to eat off the fist. She then came back in the evening and settled on the window ledge to the shop at the corner of Hope's weathering area. I think she wanted to go into the shop, but didn't want to walk to get there.

When I woke this morning she was still sitting on the window ledge. I went out and put her food on the rock jack at the end of the yard and she ate there.

I am going to put a board for feeding her on the Rock Jack today.

Connie likes to go for drives in the desert, and its one of my favorite activities as well. I had taken her for most of the major trips prior to her heart condition, but there were a few little "short" places of interest that we had not visited. 

In the late 1800's a Cavalry troop had camped where Crooked Creek now crosses Hwy 95 for a couple of weeks during the "Indian troubles" in this area. I had heard that one of the troopers carved his initials into the Rhyolite cliff face. I had been there once quite a while ago and didn't think that it was all that far away from the road.

As with most of the rock formations around here these are of Rhyolite

As you can see in these cross sections there were long periods of change

in the deposits laid down.

This dark deposit is small river worn rocks and pebbles.

Most seem to be Obsidian in nature. 

The water has shaped the Rhyolite to look like little

diarama's set on shelves in the rock faces.

There are little "wonders" to capture your eye and imagination every where you look.

Of course the Pack Rats take advantage of the cracks and crevices.

Perhaps there were other carvings, but if so they have fallen from the cliffs.

Nov 23 1864

Perhaps there were other "Taggers", but I didn't find them.

For what ever reason the Eagles have not nested here this year.

While we were trying to find out if any Eagles were home this Prairie

popped out of a hole about 50 yards from the Eagle nest.

The Prairie is using the hole with the "chalk" marks.

I was a bit surprised that she was here. I had not seen one 

hanging about the area before.

The trip turned out to be a bit tougher than I had thought, but Connie held up well. Both of our feet suffered due to the side hill walking and the small "rolling" pebbles underfoot.

We were both surprised at the lack of bugs, and wildlife. I think we only saw two beetles, One had been captured and eaten by a Say's Phoebe. We only saw some Ducks, Ravens, Northern Harrier and the Prairie Falcons. 

Jessie!

As most of you know from past years Jessie is a captive bred Tundra Peregrine that I have had since 2005. I picked her up from her mother and siblings at 28 days old. I choose her from her siblings because of her attitude. There is a lot to choosing one bird over others, and I could probably write a book about it. With enough exposure to "baby" falcons one soon learns that some are exceptional given the right exposure and training, others just fill a space. Not all birds are equal, and the difference is due to its attitude toward life and eating.

Earlier than 19 days and a falcon will be imprinted if you take it from its mother and siblings. Twenty eight days seems to be the sweet spot for Peregrines. At that age they still know that they are a falcon, but can still learn to be happy with their life, since they have known nothing else but being with a falconer. Its still easier to screw up than get it all right. However when it clicks it can be magical.

It was for the most part like that with Jessie. When I plopped my butt down on her nest ledge her siblings ran to the furthest corner. Jessie

sat there and looked at me. She accepted my presence quicker than her siblings. That trait has stayed with her all her adult life.

She spent most of every evening lying on my chest and in my lap till she was able to fly. Her first year I think that she killed about 12 Ducks. That was good for the place that I had to fly her. Lots of the days that we hunted were nothing more than learning experiences for her in what she needed to do to be able to catch some of these Ducks. Its not as easy as it looks.

In essence she gave me 12 years of some of the best falconry that I ever had. After that first time out, she never failed to come back and almost all of them with a Duck to her credit. She would not give up, and she feared nothing. With most falcons it is a one shot deal. If they don't kill on the first try, they quit or go off sight seeing. Not Jessie, she would set down on the ground and wait until she caught her breath again and then she would mount up to what she thought was a good vantage point in the sky, spread her wings as if she was saying "pull"! Then she would take another shot at them. If they made the mistake of flying over the ground she would knock them out of the sky.

She differed from other breeds of falcon in that she did not sit on poles. If she got tired, she would sit on the ground. She was not afraid to go into cover either flying on on foot. Ducks that hid in the briars were not doing them selves any favors.

She killed four Geese in her career, but mostly took Ducks. The year she was two, we moved to Jordan Valley. I didn't have enough time to build a Mews for them at the time and she chewed the knot off her leash and flew off. After I crashed my plane looking for her she came home three days later and demanded that I pick her up. She had decided that she didn't like sleeping outside at night. She had a full crop when she came back to me, so it wasn't for food.

White Front Goose.

Mallards were her main prey.

Betsy my English Pointer was her back up, and ran with her, and stayed with her when she killed.

She had no fear of cover. It took me about 30 minutes to find her in this Sage.

In her 13th year she decided that she didn't want to wrestle with Ducks any more. All her family from Parents to siblings did not live more than 13 years.  I decided that she had earned her retirement, so I have fed her in her mews every day.

I had originally thought that she would soon die as all her siblings had by 13 years of age. Well, the stubborn old broad didn't die. This last year it began to bother me that she was just sitting there day after day with nothing to do or look forward to. I remembered that she had come back home when I had lost her so many years ago, and thought that there should not be a reason that she would not still do that.

So then I was left with the chore of rationalizing whether it was a betrayal of trust to  loose her shackles of captivity, or was it my responsibility to free her to whatever fate rules the lives of wild birds. While she, in her prime was capable of killing a Canada Goose on her own, and drive a Swan out of the sky by herself, The normal life span of most falcons is about 6 years. She is twice that and more. Roughly the same age as myself. There fore she is stiff and not as maneuverable or strong for that matter. After all she hasn't flown for two or three years. However if she is smart enough to base here, I can feed her when she isn't able to catch any thing. That of course was the big "IF".

I had been wrestling with this decision for most of the winter. The one thing that helped was my experience with Jasper, Tami's Kestrel that lived here for six years, and raised a family every year. He lived here on the place and wasn't above looking me up when he was a bit hungry.

I finally decided that she deserved the chance to decide her fate. That perhaps dying free was better than a retirement home with no one to play checkers with. The one thing that gave me hope was that if I did it right she too would stay here and come back when she needed food. After all, there are no distractions or down sides to being here. She has hunted here and had been flown here for at least 12 years. So I bit the bullet and fed her an entire pigeon, then took the window off her mews, so that she could come and go when ever she decided to. I crossed my fingers and went back in the house to get a book and beer and see how she would handle it. By the time I got back with my chair she had eaten her fill and "flew the coop"! I looked for some sign of her the rest of the day, with no luck.

That evening she was back sitting on her log in the mews. I got up around 7 am the next morning and she was gone. That was the fifth of April. As you can imagine I have been looking for her every where that I go, and flogging myself every step of the way.

A Peregrine has a pretty fast metabolism and prefers to eat every day. I had fattened her as much as I could prior to her release, but she had to be too soft and out of shape to be able to fly anything down, and her inability to get in shape the last time I tried to fly her, left little doubt that she was not going to be killing anything for some time.

With every day that went by I became more convinced that she had somehow gotten too far away to find her way home again. I cannot tell you how many times I went to the window or the door to look for her over the last week.

I order my Dog and Cat food from Amazon, and I had a big box on my back porch, that needed to go to the hanger so I could burn it. I also had some other stuff that I was taking out, so I was dragging the box. I drug it into the shop, and scared the hell out of Jessie who had spent the night roosting in the shop. I hadn't closed the door until just before dark, and she had apparently walked into the shop and found her perch.

I hurried to the house to get some food for her, and tossed her the lure with a big chunk of meat on it. Needless to say I am ecstatic about her return. I have no clue where she has been, and while it is possible that she hasn't killed, it is not likely. She was flying as strong today as I have ever seen her. While she was hungry, she didn't act as though it was anything more than breakfast for her, not salvation as if she had not eaten for 6 days.

When she finished her meal, she flew to the Motorhome and "chupped" her thanks for her breakfast. Connie and I were up replacing the windsock when she flew by and landed on the hillside. There is no way to guess how long her freedom will last before she succumbs to inevitability. I just hope that she enjoys each day as long as she can. I'll be here for her if she needs me.

As I write this now she has flown back into her mews through the back window and is sitting on one of her outside perches.

Keeping on top of the "Pandemic"

I mentioned on the First that my female Brittany, Josie had a Hysterectomy on Wednesday. She is doing very well, in fact much better than I would have thought. Of course, being a dog, she doesn't have to deal with the physiological damage of losing her ability to have children. This was the first time that I had ever left her in a Vets office, and I think she thought the worse was going to happen. I had never abandoned her before. She was torn between sulking and glad that I had rescued her. When we got home the first thing she did was to roll on the lawn.

Now lest you begin to believe that I am getting a little stir crazy sitting here all by myself, I am not. My problem is that this whole current episode is causing a "flashback" to my cop days when you develop a "gallows" type of humor to deal with the foolishness of the general population. Unfortunately its the "News" outlets that cause me the most problem.

 Now it appears after much pressure from the "Journalists",  we have decided that we need to wear a mask when we go out. Since I am too far from Portland  to be active in "Antifa",  masks are really hard to come by here. However having been a Boy Scout for a whole two weeks, ( Our "leader" decided we were too violent, and quit coming to the meetings.) I can make do. I am just having trouble figuring out which one is the best bet for me.

This is my portable one that folds up to a nice pocket size since the nearest human to me is 3 miles. I can probably get away with not wearing one till I am around humans.  I am sure this one will be a big hit for at least four or five of my friends.

This is the one that I favor, especially when going to the bank, or if we get our own Antifa branch here at Burns Junction.

April Fools Day, and everybody seem to be living up to the day.

Actually I had forgotten what day it was until one of my unsuccessful "lady friends" mentioned it to me. I had texted two of the ladies that I had met through various "dating sites", when I was still doing that, to make sure that they were OK. We had decided that we fit better as friends than lovers, but still liked each other enough that we still keep in touch. The excuse that both used was that I lived too remotely to be more than friends. At least that is what they told me, heck it could be true. One mentioned that I lived just east of Hell! Looks pretty good now don't it? Just joking, I love each of them for their own selves. Nice ladies! Both are doing fine, although one of them has resorted to doing spring cleaning, out of boredom and the "stay at home order". I have managed to avoid that so far. Like me, I am sure that most of you are reconnecting with old friends just to make sure that they are all right. I know I have had my share of emails and calls to see if I am still here.

I did have to go to Idaho yesterday to take the dogs to the vet. It seem that Josie, my little female Brittany's progesterone got out of whack after her last heat cycle, and required a hysterectomy. She had her operation today and I will get to pick her up tomorrow. She is doing fine so far.

I actually had enough food to last me for at least 6 months, other than butter, flour and sugar. I could have managed but with a few less luxuries, but since I was there I might as well get the few things that would help me maintain my winter profile. ( think  Alfred Hitchcock ) With a couple of hours to drive each way, and all the sights of "civilization" to inspire me, my thoughts began to stray to our predicament. Like Will Rogers, one has to only read the paper or keep your eyes open to find enough material for a comedy routine.  Besides some of you were wondering why I have been so quiet lately. The real answer is that the weather is too bad to do anything other than binge watch Myth Busters.

Of course the first thing that comes to mind when one thinks about this "pandemic" is the sudden urge to buy all the toilet paper in Costco and all the other stores in the "civilized world". Being out here in "East Hell", I buy a lot of stuff on Amazon. Now if they ever close that one, I will be in deep do do. I also buy my dog food from them. Saves me from paying 6 % Idaho sales tax, and it is convenient as all get out. I am on an "auto delivery" system that they have.

I had been having problems with Josie itching, and I decided it was the type of Dog Food that I had been using. I have always used Purina Dog food, but I think they have changed it.However the Purina Venison and Turkey solved the itch problem. When I checked Amazon all the Purina brands were "unavailable", and they informed me that they were not going to be able to send my next bag of it. This occurred at the same time that all the toilet paper disappeared off the shelves as well. I'm not saying that there is any correlation, but it looks suspicious to me.

On my way to Idaho, the roads were almost deserted except for the trucks. I saw very few cars. I brought along 7 gas cans to take advantage of the oil glut, so that I would at least be able to fly some this year. I have paid as much as 4.10 a gallon for 91 0ctane no ethanol in past years. It was about $3.00 this time.

I had a little time before my appointment, so I went to Costco to see what they had. They were only letting so many people in the store at one time, so I had to stand in line for a bit, but it wasn't all that long. Costco has caught up with most of the panic buying so they did have toilet paper. I passed it up once, ( I still have half a bag in the cool room ) but later decided that I should get it just in case there is another run (pun) on it. The only thing that I looked for that they didn't have was Bacon, regular Pepsi, and Honey Nut Cheerio's. My return trip back home was uneventful. The only thing playing on the radio was the "Daily briefing on the Corona Virus", thus leaving me lots of time to reflect on the vagaries of the human mind, and how we cope with times of troubles.

 I get email circulars from Costco regularly and I noticed the other day that they had a Bidet for sale at a quite reasonable price. Of course as a 75 year old man from the hills of W.Va, who had for many years used outhouses with sears and Roebuck catalogs along with the occasional corn cob for the tough jobs, I always considered that I was tough enough to wipe my own ass, without having to resort to "no sissy french contraption". Of course with the shortage of Toilet paper, I began to seriously reconsider my earlier thoughts on the matter. I even suggested to a friend of mine who "day trades" that he should consider buying some Bidet stock, just in case something serious should again raise its stinky head.

The more I thought about it the more reasonable it sounded. Heck it was only about $299.00. I had expected one of those thingy's to cost a lot more than that. So of course living way out in the boonies I hit "You Tube" to see what they were all about. Of course for 299.00, it wasn't the top of the line, there was one, not on sale, that appeared to be the "deluxe" butt washer, so I had to check and compare features.  The only problem that I could see to it was that the wash part took two minutes, and the blow dry cycle took five more, but then again what do I have to do, I'm retired. The only thing that really worried me was that I might like it too much.

 I currently have 26 videos covering bidet's, now on opening You Tube. Of course no one is watching to see where I go on the internet, is there?

So having actually bought an Amazon forest clearing brick of toilet paper,  (remember it wasn't that long ago some TV network was complaining about Costco being solely responsible for the loss of trees in the Amazon.) I really no longer needed a butt washer. With just me here and the occasional visit from Connie, I was good for at least a year or two. So now the Bidet had again gone from a good investment to a luxury. I was a bit saddened by my foolish purchase, but then it hit me. I could buy the top of the line Bidet and then sell my toilet paper on Ebay and have enough left over for a nubile cleaning lady to make a house call, or a vacation, failing that.

So keep your sense of humor and hang in there This too shall pass. Be careful while you are at it!

Finally some better weather.

I published this same post yesterday and for what ever reason the pictures were not showing up. I sent it to myself and the pictures were visible on my cell phone. So hopefully it is better.

Its actually been a really mild winter. One could almost believe that there is something to what they are now accurately calling Climate Change. After all the only thing that stays the same is that every thing is constantly changing. In my case its "an ill wind that blows nobody any good". I am getting to the age where I don't really care for the snow and wind blowing my "skirt up" all the time. However I am still ready for some nice warmer weather. I was even able to roll my plane out and shoot a bunch of landings again after much to long being on the ground.

Its branding time again. The calves and little boys are getting pretty big. Time for one to receive their ID, and little boys to "ride the range" again.

Its time for a little lunch, and you thought you were tough!

Yep, one critters misfortune is lunch for young Buckaroo's.
The fire in the barrel used to heat the Branding irons, will do
to cook these little tidbits.

I have a friend that has decided to sell her house and move back to her birth State of Alabama. I wanted to spend a bit of time with her and show her Leslie Gulch, which she had never seen.

As we started down into the Canyon we came up on a Male Chuckar who was doing his best to convince this little chick that he was the best male Chuckar on the whole mountain. From all the dust and running it appears that she wasn't buying his line, and they disappeared up the mountain with him still in hot pursuit.

The scenery is of course pretty spectacular, and yesterday was no exception. Carole had her new I Phone heating up from all the pictures she was snapping. I have been there many times and shared the pictures with you before, so I didn't take many pictures.

I was especially looking for wildlife to show her and on the way down only saw the frustrated Male Chuckar. Carole stopped me to get a better picture of a certain formation, and I took the time to look at something other than rocks. Not 40 yards off the road was this guy. They are colored so much like the dried weeds, that I had to do a double take. At first I thought he was the only one and as I began to look a bit closer, it turned out that there was a total of seven right in plain sight. I would have missed them if we had not stopped.

This boy is the biggest ( 3/4 curl) that I have seen so far.

Pack Rats!

Bushy Tailed Woodrat.

Winter in the Desert is generally pretty quiet. If you are retired as I am, life is much easier. I just read, do my exercises, catch up on TV and throw wood on the fire, and three days a week I get the mail- 6 miles up the road.

Right now in the world there is a Biblical proportion swarm of Locust eating everything in sight, so my problem with a Pack Rat is pretty small potatoes.

Pack Rats here come in three sizes, from Chipmunk size to LARGE rodent. Bigger than a lot of Squirrels. The bigger they are, it appears - the smarter. They have been known to cause such anger and desperation that people have been driven to take up firearms and actually try to kill them through the walls, by taking "sound shots". They also seem to have to chew a lot to keep their teeth to a manageable size. They also only come out at night when you are trying to sleep.

When we moved here, the place had been vacant most of the time and the Pack Rats were every where. Some of these things weigh more than a pound so the running foot steps through the ceilings can drive you a bit buggy and wild eyed. In Klamath it took Ferrets to get them to move out of the house. Here I am a bit luckier and the walls are solid. I long ago bought an industrial strength "Sonic" sound machine guaranteed to drive Mice and Spiders crazy and installed it in the attic, where it has done a yomans job. Nothing can stand it for more than a few hours. Of course there is the back porch which has suitable habitat for them. So I watch the Dogs, if they are interested in smelling around back there, its time to bait the trap.

I have noticed that I had a visitor and I was at a bit of a disadvantage because it got cold enough at night to freeze the water in trap containers. Pack Rats can jump quite well, so hard water was a problem. I have a couple of live traps that I use in the winter, and for Josie's entertainment, but Mice can set them off, so I prefer to not use them. I also had one in the hangar but I did manage to catch it after two tries. Pack Rats like Apples, so they work out well for the "GangPlank" trap. However the one on the back porch wasn't falling in the water but was eating the bait. I set up a game camera to find out what my opponent was. It soon became obvious that this guy was just too big for my setup. I tried changing the tub around since he accessed the tub from the wall, but he didn't trust the plank, and just reached out and held onto the wire to eat his apple.

Before changing the bait wire the third time he had snookered me, I decided to use a Rat trap to see if I could catch him with that. I found the trap sprung, but no Rat. I was just about to make a wire that set on the bottom of the tub, under water so that he had to use the plank instead of the wire, when I found him dead on the floor under a board. Apparently concussion will kill you as well. What ever, Dead is dead, and I will take it.

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