The Triumphant Return

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Now that we have discovered this new petroglyph, we look around the immediate area but it is obvious that no more are to be found today. The sun is starting to impose a bit of unwelcome perspiration. Despite the cooler Autumn weather, any movement out under the sun rays will do so as the day progresses. It's time to head back to the shade of the Rat plus a shallow bowl of milk for our feline adventurers. Even so, you regret leaving the thrill of the hunt behind.

But wait! Beautiful Dave the Cat has wondered off while we were busy enjoying the new petroglyph. "Bea-ut-i-ful DA-A-ave!" No answer. For the first time today, I am reminded of the perils of the canyon. It doesn't help that Dave came to us with no appreciable voice. Ming will let you know where he is quite readily, even when he is playing hidden panther games. Dave will not. At best, he will utter something akin to a breathy "Achhh!", a very quiet cross between the call of my crows and a German U-boat Captain. This will not help in finding him. And so we back track, calling and surveying the brush between the high mesa walls and the creek bank cliffs. Still nothing. Now I recall passing an explosion of rabbit fur on the way here, no remaining carcass, just random tufts of fur. An eagle strike, of course! I am suddenly deeply ashamed that I have let the lure of the triangle rock lessen my vigilance for the ever present threat of eagles searching for rabbits, cats and whatever else they can dive down upon. WHERE is Dave? "Bea-ut-i-ful DA-A-ave!!!" I now feel concern seep in as we pick up the pace of the search.
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Finally, ever so thankfully, we see a flash of his white fur as he trots towards us from the creek. "Ohhh Dave, WHERE have you been?" Relief replaces worry as I fling him up into my arms and squeeze him. Once we retrace my steps to rejoin Ming, who has lagged far behind by now, Dave squirms restlessly to be let down. "Now ... you two have to stay with me, okay? We're heading home." Look up now. Any sign of flying predators in these cloudless skies? No? Good, let's head down to the creek then!

There is no doubt in my mind as to why the term "like trying to herd cats" became popular, even though my two little friends are the best of hiking companions. Each still has his own agenda and joyful distractions. This can be a source of considerable concern when eagles are about. Hawks, crows and kestrels are no threat but those eagles are quite another story. I had mentioned this to a visiting Apache woman. She said "Cats? With the size of the eagles I saw up the canyon last month, you should watch out for your dogs as well!" These people don't exaggerate unless they're trying to pull your leg. She wasn't.
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Sorry about that little skid down the embankment. This really was the closest and easiest way down, you know ... honest! See, only the seat of your pants shows any traces of that indignity and I won't tattle. Where are the boys now? The cats join us at the edge of this sandy interstate-wide creek crossing. A look skywards. "Okay, guys, let's go!" Dave is, as always, the first to boldly go where no cat has gone before, strutting casually along in the open without a care. Ming follows slowly, already looking for his next hiding spot on the other side.
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We were about a third way across this broad thoroughfare when my crows appeared noisily with an unrelenting heckling from the mesa at our backs (see photo above; the mesa on the right). First only a pair of crows but ten others joined in as I looked up. They were circling a pair of eagles above us and ruining their silent high vigil. "Thank you!" I shouted as I drove the two cats quickly across to the other side.
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But cats cannot be herded on the best of days and Beautiful Dave was content to stop far short of cover and lie down in the creek bed (see photo above). One person juggling the immediate welfare of two cats does not make for efficiency. Luckily, Brou made one of his frenetic passes and responded to "Get Da Kitty!" He LIVES for such moments. With Dave now driven into the thick rabbit brush, I only had to worry about Ming. I shouldn't have worried, he soon joined us via deep brush cover.

The crows had done their work; the eagles tired of their raucous company and retreated back to the north. I so wished to collapse with relief at that point but we still had a long trek remaining in front of us. The undulating flats seemed more vast than on the hike in as I listened and watched intently for new predators while keeping the cat herd tightly by.

I find little as comforting as twisting the door knob and having a stream of animal friends beat me into the Rat's cool interior after such a good day's adventure. Are you ready for a bowl of cold milk now? The boys certainly are.
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While we're on the subject of cat herding, you might as well go see this video if you have the time and download capacity:

YouTube - Cat Herding

Yep, it will give you a pretty good idea of what Slim and the boys will be doing this Spring out here on the range.

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Sun and Shadow

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Retrospect: Late October 2007
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The sun out here in the high desert does a marvelous job of changing the views in significant ways, not only by the season but throughout the hour. My example below is of a favorite view of mine when I stand on the porch.

I love to gaze across the creek to the far mesa wall and ponder the red and black streaks on this one particular rock formation. If you look beneath the yellow dot in the upper half of the image below, you will see a very unusual triangle of red color. To me, it was an unlikely shape for Nature to form for no particular reason and it held no end of intrigue. Then, late one afternoon last autumn, I happened to look across the creek again (see the lower half of the photo). That triangle was NOT part of the rock face at all but a triangular obelisk of rock unto itself. Could that really be?
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I happen to be feeling pretty good today so whether you're ready or not, put on your most comfortable hiking shoes because we're going to round up 'the boys' (Ming and Beautiful Dave the Cat) and head across the canyon to find out what's really over there; the placid contemplation of this mystery is about to end.
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Once we cross the ups and downs of the sage and chico flats and find a reasonable path down through the steep banks to the creek bottom, it will be surprisingly hard to find the right path up to the target area on the other side. Expect one or two false starts as the ledge at the foot of the mesa runs out abruptly due to massive erosion. We will have to back track down into the creek bed and start all over again. All that huffing, puffing and cat herding for nothing so far.
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Finally we're all up and headed in the right direction. When the scale changes from far distance to 'in your face' macro, it is hard to determine if you have really found the right spot. The bluffs of the creek won't allow for back stepping to regain any part of our initial perspective. Here is a prime example above. You can see Beautiful Dave (in the lower third of the photo) watching Ming (center of photo) who is about to explore the dark crevice in front of him. On the right of that crevice is our target, the red triangle rock! Who would have guessed so at this point?
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The reward! Once we are able to stand at the base of my elusive triangle rock, we look up and see this incredibly ancient and weather-worn petroglyph. Did you feel that little shiver of delight run down your back as you glanced up and saw it, too? Look! One, two, THREE little Indians plus, I dunno, a critter of some sort to their immediate right. Was this rock part of a larger intact work at one time? Did you find your imagination trying to paint in the missing artist scribing away? Did you wonder if they had lived on that narrow bank in front of the rock or were just migrating through with the seasons? What was he saying?

While the rocks mutely testify to a past unfathomably ancient, there is something far more moving in finding a message or expression from a fellow human standing in the same exact spot as you but half a millennium before. There are so many messages in the rocks which we have yet to rediscover. Perhaps you will be right here with us when we do.
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The Rigs Up, Pal

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Less wordy, mo' piccy today.
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This dawn sky above greeted us this morning in a heartening way. Hopefully the next storm will hold off until Mark returns from today's big supply run after three weeks of waiting out the weather, construction and bad road conditions.
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Mark had reminded me to catch a photo of the rig from the first mesa bench. I brought the cats along since it was only going to be a short hike up there and back. They had been very miffed at their confinement during the heavy construction traffic. The dogs joined us and it soon became apparent that all parties were up to a much longer hike than I had planned. I should have known.
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We headed east along the first bench as usual and Dave found this amazing sandstone boulder. As old as the sandstone is, this one appears to be encasing even older rocks. These black rocks appealed to my imagination and reminded me of huge Anasazi pots. Dave is giving us his best vicious wildcat look.
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Beyond the second spring, the dogs found a new deer trail heading up to the second bench and it looked more knee friendly than our other trails so we all followed it upwards. The photo above shows Ming on the right, investigating these new rock formations and the high view.
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Here is the rig, a small town unto itself in the mud. While it hadn't rained in a few days, there were no winds or beaming sun to dry anything out.
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Oops! As I just said, the mud was still alive and well and helped this very large rig slide off into the ditch as he left the well site. All traffic came to a stop for a couple of hours until its companion rig with tire chains returned to drag him back to the main road. You can see the condition of the access road (the white patches are ruts full of standing water).

And to think that Mark is now still out there after dusk without chains after so many monsters like these have chain-gouged ruts in the road today nearly as deep as their tall axles.
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Here is the drilling rig right after the first heavy rainfall. The rainbow had an easy guess this time as to where the pot of gold lay. I missed the perfect shot due to camera problems AGAIN but the rainbow's base had been clearly resting at the foot of the rig just moments before.
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Next up: What it was like living with a drilling rig next door 24/7 and a report on if it really will leave at o:dark early tomorrow morning. We won't have to set any alarms for this event. Don't get too excited for us yet - we've heard that the next stage could be a wee bit more obnoxious.

Update: 7:00PM - Mark made it back home. It was warm enough that the mud did not freeze last night so he couldn't travel out "on the frost" this morning but he made it into town without too much misery. He noticed that our five mile road was by far the worst of any out here. He was not at all happy about the greatly deteriorated conditions he met this evening, despite gas field talk yesterday about grading the road today in preparation for the rig move. I guess they say what you hope to hear but do what they darned well please in the end. Unfortunately, it looks like another frost free night and it will be too dark for me to take photos of the rig getting stuck later. Oh, and those round-the-clock back-up beepers are starting to give me a serious migraine attitude.
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Why Thursday Sucked Ever So Badly

There are few things like the persistent dirge of a chronic, resistant infection to draw down your usual tenacity and taint your world view, I suppose. I will finally admit it. In my case, I am approaching the anniversary of what I call my 'Curse of the Pueblitos'. It occurred about a year ago while exploring an ancient pueblito ruin with Virgil's wife. I nearly poked out my eye on a surviving wooden roof pole (these folks believed in LOW architecture) and I developed a rather tenacious case of staphylococcus as a result. When I mentioned this to the neighboring ranch matron, she replied in her raspy voice "Yeah, I know what you mean, it's almost like someone didn't want you there. It always happened to me, too." This curse has gone from topical to systemic, back and forth several times by now with the help of marginally effective antibiotics, but nothing eradicated the problem completely and so I still await an appointment with an ENT who will hopefully drive this malevolent beast from its likely stronghold within my sinuses. Yes, I admit it, I am a little worn, and discouraged by now with the chronic fevers and acute pains lighting up half a dozen teeth like abscesses, an imaginary ice pick up my nose and a feeling like someone is prying out my eyeball while sitting on the previously broken part of my skull. It often puts me off any desire to write updates. But on with Thursday's events:

Mark left for town just after dawn with the Honda 3000EU generator. The dealer would do a valve adjustment, compression test, etc. and hopefully it would come home with him that night if all looked reasonable. These various 'by appointment' necessities have totally skewed our plan to only go to town twice a month. Oh ... and Mark's cell phone decided to no longer take a recharge so he would have to spend additional hours in line at the cell phone store to explore any remedial options there. What equipment failure or unplanned misery next, I wondered. What new boil to be inflicted upon Job today?

With no new Mark-driven projects at hand (my own drive has succumbed to this infection), I decided to take the pack for a walk. The kitty boys had been giving me 'the look' for several days but the chiggers had been keeping me out of the high grass lately. I donned the tall rubber boots and we headed up the mesa face, a party of five (obviously the two dogs weren't going to miss a hike to parts unknown). The sun was already warming the air and the two cats darted from the shade of one tree or rock to the next as I plodded along, intently surveying the latest blooms of the plants and being careful not to step on any. With this focus, I tend to cover a lot of ground before I know it. Our progress was interrupted by the necessary but unsuccessful chases of small striped lizards every so often by dogs, cats and tour leader or my coming across a new plant. At one point, Ming the black cat stopped to survey some creature's mark against a small bush. His ears went sideways, he stuck out his tongue and embarked on a series of quick, sharp pants. Then he took off at a determined trot, back to where we had come from. I presumed that he had found the marking of a bobcat and wanted nothing further to do with it. I quickly gathered up the other three beasts and headed out and eventually Ming changed his mind, followed and caught up. Shortly ahead of us lay a much less treacherous path back down to the canyon and we were soon all descended and crashing through the sage and grasses towards the road.

I had not previously noticed the heat but, out here in the open now, my companions were panting wildly with tongues hanging well out of their mouths so I sped up the pace down the parched road. Beautiful Dave the cat worried me the most. With his epicurean belly, he was now complaining vocally like the chubby kid on a Boy Scout trek. I stooped down and picked him up into my arms as the rest followed closely. The Rat seemed a hundred miles off in the distance still when Ming veered off the road and disappeared, his plaintive calls dropping further and further behind us. I decided to get Dave and the dogs to shelter and run back for Ming. Dave began to squirm in my arms as we approached the barn so I let him back down to the ground and he made a dash under the old cattle loading chute. I presumed he would collapse to rest, given his condition. Right at that moment, Ming had decided to catch up so I hurried on to the rat where he could collapse on the cool tile floors inside.

When I arrived back at the old chute, Dave was no where to be found. My heart sank, knowing that cats in dire conditions like to run off and hide to die. No response to my various best kitty calls. I looked in the tall grass, I looked in the barn full of piled junk. I would repeat this process of scouring the entire homestead several more times in the next hour, a sense of desperation and loss escalating with each new failed attempt.

Although the heat was now getting to me, I decided to scale back up the mesa for a bird's eye view of the homestead. I breathlessly sat down in the shade at the rim with the two dogs flanking me. From up here, perhaps I might catch any movement below. And I called and I called but only silence answered. And it was here, from my lofty ledge, that I could bury my face in my hands and wail uncontrollably at the prospects of losing my favorite little friend and blame myself for leading them so far from home in this oven of a place.

This is already a considerable amount of writing for the events of just one day so I will leave off here now and hopefully resume the tale tomorrow. I am depleted for the moment.

Not to worry about Dave, it eventually worked out.

A Good View of the Ol' BombBay

I heard Mark exclaim "Gagghhh!!! You're really part pig, aren't you, Daisy?!" so I looked out the window. I shouldn't have. What used to be the tri-color new dog in town was now a uniform, dripping mud brown. Worse still, she had convinced Brou to follow her into the mud wallow. So much for the vet insisting that we keep his surgery site clean. Sigh.

With the addition of this newest warm body to the clan of the rat trailer, I was beginning to understand the concept of population stress. I was having a serious lemming moment, in fact, so I rounded up the kitty boys to go hiking in search of cliffs. Ms. Daisy was secured to the grounds but Brou tagged along with us. The cats seemed a little miffed that we didn't leave him behind like we did last time but got over it quickly.

About a mile away from home base, we were hiking along half way up the mesa when a low flying B1 bomber flew directly, and I do mean directly, overhead. Close enough to see some details, loud enough to raise the hackles on everyone in the hiking party. It was awesome! Well, at least I thought so but, then again, I am a gearhead. Brou went berserk, barking and jumping up and down as he loves to do when the low fliers approach. Ming the cat velcroed himself in place, his eyes so big that they were almost glowing, his ears dead-sideways and now looking like two black horns. He laughably looked like a demon having a very bad hair day. But where was Beautiful Dave the Cat? He must have taken off like a jack rabbit because I spotted him some five minutes later emerging from the shelter of a cliff wall a good distance away.

Between the fly-over and seeing several new-to-me flowering desert plants, it was a marvelous walk about. Well, maybe 'the boys' didn't think so but I sure did.

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Humor of the day: (from buddy John E. in Phoenix)

Happy Mother's Day

So, we had this great 10 year old cat named Jack who just recently died. Jack was a great cat and the kids would carry him around and sit on him and nothing ever bothered him. He used to hang out and nap all day long on this mat in our bathroom. Well we have 3 kids and at the time of this story they were 4 years old, 3 years old and 1 year old. The middle one is Eli. Eli really loves chapstick.... LOVES it! He kept asking to use my chapstick and then losing it. So finally one day I showed him where in the bathroom I keep my chapstick and how he could use it whenever he wanted to, but he needed to put it right back in the drawer when he was done.

Last year on Mother's Day, we were having the typical rush around and try to get ready for Church with everyone crying and carrying on. My two boys are fighting over the toy in the cereal box. I am trying to nurse my little one at the same time I am putting on my make-up. Everything is a mess and everyone has long forgotten that this is a wonderful day to honor me and the amazing job that is motherhood. We finally have the older one and the baby loaded in the car and I am looking for Eli. I have searched everywhere and I finally round the corner to go into the bathroom. And there was Eli. He was applying my chapstick very carefully to Jack's ... rear end. Eli looked right into my eyes and said "chapped."

Now if you have a cat, you know that he is right--their little butts do look pretty chapped. And, frankly, Jack didn't seem to mind. And the only question to really ask at that point was whether it was the FIRST time Eli had done that to the cat's behind or the hundredth.

And THAT is my favorite Mother's Day moment ever because it reminds us that no matter how hard we try to civilize these glorious little creatures, there will always be that day when you realize they've been using your chapstick on the cat's butt.

Laughter really can be the best medicine

We've had a run of overcast skies and damp, chilly temperatures. Slim sounded pretty bummed out on Friday during the rain but had lucked out up top on Saturday and Sunday with a dry weather window for his annual cattle round-up. I don't imagine that having a trailer full of rained-out volunteer workers and bored kids would be a treat when everyone had been hyped up for serious cowboy action. Nor could I imagine having to wrestle with a lot of wet calves in the mud, especially since we still have all of his plumbing supplies in the back of the Dodge that he needed to get the showers up and running again. I guess we all just ran out of time on that project.

We had our own cabin fever moments brought on by this weather. It turns out that Daisy, the new dog in town, loves to find mud holes and returns soaking wet and mud covered. As she dries out, her thick, kinky hair sheds dust everywhere by the mound full. To cut down on the dirt, we have been keeping her indoors far more than hoped for. Two people and four critters are possibly too many for a place the size of the rat trailer, especially when that really means the kitchen and living room area. Daisy chases one of the cats, Brou chases Daisy as the new enforcer, Mark chases Brou to call him off. I sit here wondering where all the wonderfully deafening silence has suddenly gone.

A cabin fever hike was overdue. Rather than bring the entire entourage, I snuck away with just the original boys; Beautiful Dave the Cat and Ming the Merciless. As we threaded our way through the sage to the spring, I could hear Mark's exasperation with the two dogs who knew very well that they had been left behind. Just me and 'the kitty boys' once again and thankfully the whining and barking died down after we disappeared from view. Serenity had returned at last. We hiked along, exploring new and intriguing holes in the eroded sandstone walls and finally finding a new way up the embankment to the first bench overhead. Ming dashed from the cover of one tree to another but Dave boldly walked out in the open with me so I scanned the skies overhead for the golden eagles who had just been patrolling for prey again yesterday. So far, so good but maybe they had a better sense of the weather than I since it started to rain. Nothing like a little rain to motivate cats, believe me. Before long, we were all at a trotting pace for the half mile trek back towards the rat. Once the boys recognized our standard trail down, it was obviously 'every man and cat for himself' and they left me behind to pick my own way down the treacherous shale around the yuccas. The boys looked a little mousse-spiky from the rain and I must have gotten a serious chill.

I was feeling pretty miserable by the time the generator came on and was able to check on a friend's blog. I felt a surge of warm energy run through my aching, shivering limbs as my eyes welled up with tears from laughter. It's obvious that this man has not lost the ability to tell a good story in 35 years. If you need a good laugh, check out his tale of May 5th at:
http://alphonsedamooseramblings.blogspot.com/
or just click on his link on the left side of this page.
Thanks, Alphonse, I sure needed that.

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Humor of the day (sent in by Alphonse himself)

Barbara Walters did a story on gender roles in Kabul, Afghanistan, several years before the Afghan conflict and noted that women customarily walked 5 paces behind their husbands.

She recently returned to Kabul and observed that women still walk behind their husbands. To her great consternation, despite the overthrow of the oppressive Taliban regime, the women now seem happy to maintain the old custom and walk even further back behind their husbands now.

She approached one of the Afghani women and asked, "Why do you now seem happy with the old custom that you once tried so desperately to change?"

The woman looked Ms. Walters straight in the eyes, and without hesitation, said, "Land mines."