Decisions On The Arkansas

Lee and Bill Bailey on the Arkansas river

There is a special sign language used by voyagers on the rivers of the West. It is rich and varied with special nuances and concepts not always found in our spoken language. The subtleties hidden in the flow of the unspoken narrative can be infused with meaning and direction. It is used primarily when two people don’t want to speak to each other due to having discussions like this in the past. Here is a brief translation of what’s being said by the two individuals above.

The traveler on the left with her single arm outstretched and fingers pointed downstream is thought to be saying:

We should go down the water this way. We should not hit either bank. We must endeavor not to sink the boat by any foolish action for that would be bad. In case of imminent danger I will jump out and run alongside on the bank until I see whether you survive or not. If a poisonous snake should fall into the bottom of the boat do not shoot it or strike it with your hatchet. Watch carefully for rapids and call out loudly and clearly if they’re near. I will jump out and wait for you at the bottom of them. You bring the boat through. Do not spill anything. Do not light your pipe in the boat and set it on fire like you did last time. Do not get us lost…. The rest is lost in translation due to not understanding the subtle fingering used by the outstretched hand but this translation is thought to be fairly accurate.

Her companion is replying with a two handed gesture normally used by males which vaguely means:

Wait! What !?!

As stated above this is a language full of obscure meanings and concepts and can sometimes be misinterpreted by non-fluent speakers. However I believe most of the important thoughts were presented. Or of course they may be completely wrong. That’s happened before.

Cowboys

Moving the herd down from the high country somewhere in Wyoming

One day while browsing thru the local flea market looking for that perfect western artifact to put in the office to keep me inspired and connected to that period I’m most attached to, I found something special. I was in one of those booths that immediately draw you in because of the type of objects there. That collection of old and retired things that resonates with your idea of what’s cool and represents that era that completes you and satisfied that nostalgia for a way of life that may never even have existed in reality, but sure feels good to think about.

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The item found was a pair of old saddle bags. They were stained, the leather so dry and cracked that picking them up risked pieces falling off. The straps were mostly missing and the one that was still attached so brittle that moving it to get the bag open risked its disintegration. Inside was a notebook, the pages lined with those faded blue horizontal lines and the vertical red ones setting the margin. The kind of notebook you practiced your cursive writing in.

Many of the pages were torn out but the ones that were left held treasures more valuable than gold. Sketches drawn with colored pencils and ink faded almost past recognition. Of scenes real or imagined, covered with stories of a life lived long ago. It didn’t matter if they were true or not. A person’s dreams and memories can be whatever they want. Whoever created these pages left a legacy of their own life that were destined to be private but needed to be shared with the world. To take us back to a time that was less complicated, less buffeted by our current events that leave us stressed and disappointed with how life seems to be playing out now. A time when wanting to be a cowboy seemed a pretty noble ideal.

Is This 2021 ?

Is this 2021? We have been busting hump to get here. You’re sure it’s 2021 and not last year. We couldn’t take it if this wasn’t 2021. OK then, good.

Now where’s all this extra hay we’re supposed to get?

Happy New Year

coyote and the rest of us searching the void and hoping for the best.

Well let’s put this bad boy to rest and get on with it. There’s got to be better times ahead.

Happy New Year everybody.

Christmas circa 1830’s

Gathering around the fire Christmas Eve at Bent’s Old Fort

Christmas during the 1800’s was very different than the way it is celebrated today. The emphasis was on the gathering and sharing, less on the material things we seem to value so much today. We still gather and show each other how we love them even if it isn’t around a campfire. The need to be with each other and share our lives in one of the biggest holidays we celebrate is still one of the most important times of our lives. With that in mind I would like to share with you and your loved ones my wishes for a very Merry Christmas and hope for a brand new year. Be well everyone.

Summer Wind

There are portions of the Firehole river that race down from its confluence with the Madison and Gibbon rivers to tumble over the Firehole falls and through the Firehole canyon. At this point it’s a boisterous, tumultuous river, roaring with exuberance as it crashes over rocks, slams around high walled bends in the canyon, and sends its white frothed waters dancing into the air. Finally it makes its way through the Firehole Cascades and begins to widen and slow down and rest for awhile.

As it enters the Fountain Flats area very near the Mount Mary/Nez Perce trail it becomes an entirely different river. It’s wider, slower, often attaining a mirror like surface reflecting the pines that line its banks, with nothing to break its surface but the occasional trout rising to take a Stonefly or White Miller Caddis. Osprey take advantage of its crystal clarity to swoop down and grab its daily meal sending widening ripples outward until gradually the river returns to its quiet flow.

It is here that a pair of Trumpeter swans took residence one late spring choosing this quiet stretch of river to mate and feed and make it their home, at least for the summer. They slowly cruised up and down the still waters, gently feeding along the banks and seining the river bottom with their large webbed feet to bring the insects and other choice bits to the surface.

One warm summer day the breezes that blew up and down the river causing ripples and swirls and little wavelets to spread across the river’s surface, disturbing its normal mirror like surface, found one of the swans standing on the bank. It wasn’t a strong breeze but it was enough to stir something in the swan. A memory of past flights perhaps, or a reminder of changes to come, it called to the swan and it spread its wings and raised itself high to catch every delicious bit of the breeze ruffling its feathers. Most likely reminding it of the journey it and its mate would soon be taking as the summer wind changed to fall. The call to them to begin that journey to their winter home too strong to ignore. That will come later, for now it can bask in the sun and take delight in the wonder and warmth of the summer wind.

Equipment Failure

Yellowstone National Park Sept 2005

In any sport one has to have the right equipment and keep that equipment in tip top shape. If you’re a pole vaulter and you use a flimsy made in a third world country pole, and it snaps when you’re making your best run at the Tokyo Olympics you’re not going to get a medal. If you’re a shot putter and your shot is made of Unliftanium from one of the Baltic countries and you can’t even lift if off the ground let alone heave it anywhere, you’re going to look dumb and be laughed at by those with better equipment. This is important in the game of life.

What you see above is a contestant in the annual “Rut” or how you get babes in the Elk world, held every year to decide the mating rights among these large and very belligerent ungulates. As you have no doubt seen on any of the nature shows these male Elk fight with each other to claim and acquire the most cow elk in their harems. Because they’re big and strong and have large, but huge antlers, the cow elk desire to be obtained by the largest and strongest bull. Thus making him the winner. However many battles need to be fought and the tides of victory and cow elk accumulation ebb and flow throughout the season.

One thing remains constant however and that is they must maintain their equipment in perfect order. In this case this poor fellow had a disastrous mishap that cost him his left antler. He went in to a contest with another bull who snapped it right off during the attack, thus ending the battle, his opponents ability to proceed in the contest, and his chances of getting lucky in the mating game. It is unknown if the substandard equipment was a poor choice by the contestant, a genetic failure, or why the antler failed. Maybe it was just nature’s way of saying “Nope, you’re done. No cows for you.” In any case no other bull would fight with him. It was the Bull Code where the bulls would only fight another bull that was as big and strong enough as they were so that a win would impress the cows.

The moral of this story is if you want to win keep your antlers in good shape. Don’t be losing one or it’s game over. Maybe next year will be better for this guy.