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Okay, enough frivolity for now. We both enjoyed your comments and it helped shake off our winter blues out here at the Rat but I had better get back to catching up on our serious journaling before the renewed activity at the dreaded gas well across the road takes precedence once more. Oh yeah, they're back at it all right.
It wasn't long after Mark's very close call in the late Spring that we decided to beef up the front of his Dodge Ram. For those of you who haven't read our older accounts, it will help if you read Hit and Run first.
Much as we expected, the gas field did NOTHING to produce the culprit even after the BLM (Bureau of Land Management) weighed in and broadcast the incident. Nor have they done anything to make their increasingly anonymous gas field trucks more identifiable and accountable. Plausible deniability seems to be a valuable and growing intentional tool for such large corporations - and it is getting old real fast out here. I normally don't like to rant publicly but I suspect that they plan on pushing the limits of that neighborly envelope REAL soon. Here's the big industry salve on this earlier incident; we were told that the gas field makes budgetary accommodations for a 'hit and run' on a rancher's cattle. That certainly would have been a consolation if that idiot had driven Mark off the road to his death. In the meantime, we're living with the damages they inflicted rather than claim it on our own insurance and endure the increased rates after the claim. Nice. And they wonder why landowners develop 'an attitude' after a while.
In face of the obvious forthcoming bureaucratic frustrations, we chose to get proactive where it counts in the end - better protection from head-on collisions with idiots. The mesas, rabbit brush and curves provide plenty of blind corners and I have had my own share of split-second judgment near-misses on these roads. I don't even wander out that often! We were looking for something stout, something to give Mark a bit of an edge should the gas field throw another lead-foot truck driver at him again. If we have learned anything from Red, it is how to research the living daylights out of a new quest. We queried ranchers, outfitters and field people on what they liked in the way of truck front-end protection. We found some cheap 'knock-offs' but eventually settled on the "Ranch Hand' grill guard and bumper. Fortunately, he hasn't had to use it for self-defense from other vehicles but it has held up very well when gently nudging the odd belligerent cow forward and out of the way (more on that down the road). It also served well when Mark ran the Ram's front end dead on into the creek's eroded far embankment in his attempt to cross our running creek. The conclusion of that story can be found under Part 2 and Part 3.
You playing chicken wi' ME, Bub?
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Maybe this won't be such a long siege after all - I hope, I hope, I hope. I always knew that Mark was sharp but when he lights a fire under himself (or someone else does), he kicks butt in ways that leave me astounded. The last twenty-four hours has seen him burn through three fully charged cell phone batteries and connect with more savvy people than we knew were even out there. Knowledge is our best ammo, plain and simple. Sooooo, I may be back to regular journaling in a couple of weeks. Sooner would be better but I don't want to over-stress myself with intense multi-tasking. I miss you guys already. Not to worry, I have upped the ante on those little aspirin jobbies and am carefully pacing myself more than normal.
If PopeT is right (comment on last entry) about the ancient Greek belief that an eagle sighting is a good omen, than we are on a good omen roll. Today I heard my raptors and ran outside. I may be mistaken but it would appear that a combination of four hawks and eagles were occupying the same big tree behind the barn. I didn't think that was even normal or possible. Perhaps a message that opposing forces can intermingle without conflict? I hope so.
One of the hawks came over to visit and circled above my head despite Daisy's ruckus. Again, my results with mid-range digital shots are still marginal but the image shows two photos of my hawk overhead and one of two raptors landing in the big pine.
Thanks for the many well-wishes on this latest endeavor - it seems to be helping! I will be back as soon as I can manage. I am looking forward to finishing the potty tales.
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I have decided to title today's photo simply "Vigilance". It's of two good-natured shepherds keeping watch over their home turf.
My eagle and my hawk visitors from yesterday and today were perhaps trying to tell me something. The nearly white eagle had winged across the sage towards me after his drop into the creek. I was chilled by the beauty of his unusual, nearly transparent plumage in the sun as he soared low and lightly overhead and took up a roost in a dead tree at the top of the mesa directly behind the Rat. I called out to him in my best Eaglelese and he watched me intently, uttering the occasional response. The voice of the raptor is one which strikes a chord deep within my soul and echoes back out through my every bone and atom of flesh.
The hawk came by today. I had been looking out a large window of the Rat, enthralled by the aerobatics of a thrush as it tight-looped up and around to catch a grasshopper mid-air and I told Mark to watch. What nearly filled the window almost immediately was a hawk which swerved upwards from the ground at the last moment and landed on the roof overhead. We could see his outline interrupting the roof line as the Rat's shadow played across the ground. I ran out the opposite side of the Rat and the hawk began to repeatedly circle above my head. It was those damnably exuberant Aussie shepherds who caught sight of him and set up a raucous, stampeding melee to end that moment. The hawk swerved wide and took up vigil in a tree on the edge of the first bench up the mesa. I had the field glasses with me and we both stayed put, intently watching each other for half an hour until those dogs distracted me once more with their energetic foolishness. When I looked back, the hawk had departed as quietly and mysteriously as the eagle on the day before. I find something immensely strengthening and energizing in these rare visits which could not be duplicated by another mere human like myself. It's as though they wished to share their untamed, natural strength with me, to refresh me, to remind me that I am still a warrior at heart. Perhaps they were warning and girding me for a conflict ahead.
The complete unaccountability of the potentially fatal hit and run aside, it was today that Mark had been dealt a last straw to shake his ever gentle 'turn-the-other-cheek', 'do unto others' demeanor. We have both run out of fresh cheeks to offer. Mind you, we had been warned repeatedly by everyone who has dealt with the ways of the two ton energy gorillas out here that we were far too kindly for our own good.
This must simply change now, not just for our own good but for the good of many to follow. We have seen our generosity repeatedly abused and find it shamelessly rude. Enough is simply enough after saving and doing without for so many years to realize this dream of ours to find that corporations and collaborating government departments could largely care less about even what few rights a land-owner might have. No, I am not talking about any armed insurrection here ... we just don't conduct ourselves in such a manner (although some already have resorted to this in utter frustration). But we will avail ourselves to any legal recourse available and do what is necessary to reign in the abuses and treading upon rights that we are experiencing.
I am finally wise enough to understand my limitations in battle: those taunting chest pains and the pleasant long distractions of things like blogging. And so I wish to take leave of your very kindly company to concentrate my remaining energies and resources on this particular battle. I still have so many very interesting tales to share with you but this new matter does seem to be a priority, for my own peace of mind and sense of honor, if nothing else. Please don't forget us in the interim and please do check back in November in case we have some good news to share. And in the meantime, don't let any of this dissuade you from your own dreams. You will never regret trying and, like so many things in this interesting life, sometimes you regrettably have to take a stand to defend it. I am not so old that I have completely forgotten how to pull on a set of war gauntlets and flip down the visor before a charge. The spirit is still willing and that is good and maybe all I could hope for.
Friday, May 11th, was our last town run for supplies. Mark has become very good about letting me know when he is finished his errands and now back on the dirt road and heading home. He called just a few minutes after turning off the highway and was now only about an hour and a half away. What can I say? I worry about people, I inherited it from my mother. Get used to it 'cause I ain't about to change any time soon.
For an ETA of 1.5 hours, I allow an extra half hour before I start to really pace back and forth. Sometimes the roads are rougher than expected, sometimes you might meet up with someone and shoot the breeze a little or maybe just get stuck behind a herd of commuting cattle for a while.
A little over two hours after his call, I hear Mark's diesel as it drops down into our canyon. Brou hears it as well and can't wait to whine and widdle all over the porch when his best buddy returns. We're all out on the porch grinning when the Dodge pulls up beside it. Mark gets out and starts unloading without so much as a salutation for any of us. Hmmm ... something's up but I will just let it slide for the moment. He is even unusually oblivious to the curious dog noses poking into every new package. By the fourth bag of groceries deposited on the porch, however, he mutters something inaudible. This is my historic cue to open the floodgates of what has been eating at him. An impressive flood it was, too, and I soon became drenched with anger and outrage myself.
The Tale: About ten minutes after he had called, he was still on that part of the road which we both find unpleasant for its never-ending heavy washboard ripples and its thin layer of gravel which feels like oiled ball bearings under the wheels. Aside from the feeling of very little traction, we are going to have to make these trucks last a long time to come and, as a result, we plug along this section at 10 to 20 MPH tops.
Unfortunately, our town runs also put us in the position of being a lone salmon facing a steady stream of gas field vehicles heading into the field in the morning and back out at night. Such was again the case when Mark approached a blind corner after calling me. A pick-up going about 60 MPH popped into view and lost control as the driver swerved to avoid the guaranteed head-on collision. It was now sideways in the loose gravel and still heading for Mark. Mixed in with the thoughts that he was about to become a fatality, Mark managed a hard dive into the high brush on his right and braced for the crash. A kind brushing of fate had the other truck hook a little traction at the last moment and nearly straighten back out, nearly. Mark felt a sharp jolt and knew that he had been clipped as the other truck sped up and disappeared without so much as a tap of the brake lights in some sense of decency or responsibility.
Still shaking from the sudden adrenaline dump, Mark stepped out to survey the situation. Sure enough, there was a heavy swipe running from his left rear wheel well to the rear bumper which ended by breaking the rear tail light. And the guy never even thought about stopping for even a second - that was the final insult to injury. Our field friends looked for a week to find the culprit but their efforts yielded nothing so we are kicking this up several notches now.
There is a disturbing new trend in the gas field towards producers running vehicles without any identifying signage at all and nearly black windows. This anonymity is certainly handy in incidents such as the one Mark just survived and we are pretty angry and determined at this point to get some accountability and responsibility restored to where it belongs. We will let you know if we have any success to this end so "Watch This Space". If this incident had ended Mark's life or incapacitated him, this dream of ours and this blog would have all come to a painfully abrupt end so it seems a worthy quest to pursue the matter on principle.
You playing chicken wi' ME, Bub?
