Just before entering Boise, Idaho, a ranch remains almost intact. On the east end is a housing development, but on the west end cows and horses graze and eat hay, and the bulls live in the field across the road. It's the last vestige of life as it was, a pleasant respite before entering the busyness of the city.
However, the ranch was chosen for a huge housing development with a shopping mall to sustain the development population. Then the economy turned ,and the cattle still have their home. But most important is the fact that the bulls were joined by a bull elk who has taken up residence with them Passersby usually see only his antlers as he lies down to chew his cud in back of the field.
Some people say there's something wrong with him because he doesn't live with the instincts of a wild animal. I say he's smart - so smart that he's become a media star in the Boise newspaper, with countless photographers, and on television.
At mating season he leaves to do his bit to ensure the continuation of the elk population, and then he returns to his life of ease.
His presence is the only bright spot that I've found in an economy in trouble. Without it, the elk and his friends would be gone. It seems that no matter how bad things get, if you think about it, there's always something to lighten the load.
18 December 2009
There's Gold In Them Thar Hills
Yes, gold fever has struck again in Idaho's Boise Basin. Beginning in 1863, more gold was taken from here than from Alaska during the gold rush there. But when it was over it was over, leaving behind a rich history and historic towns that thrive on tourism. Then the price of gold skyrocketed, and more than a few entrepreneurs are at it again.
Or are they more like fishermen? When fishing, if the fish refuse to bite you change the bait. If they still don't bite you change fishing hole sand hope for the best. That's what's happening here There's gold here; it's just a matter of finding an economical way to get it out. So they're digging, trying out their various machines, moving locations, and usually working at a fever pitch. But,.like fishing, it's the thrill of waiting for the big one that keeps you going. And even a few little ones will do - especially in today's economy.
If gold is ever found again in quantity, the world will know about it. Until then, we'll let the winter snows cover it all up, and we'll hope for a shiny spring.
Or are they more like fishermen? When fishing, if the fish refuse to bite you change the bait. If they still don't bite you change fishing hole sand hope for the best. That's what's happening here There's gold here; it's just a matter of finding an economical way to get it out. So they're digging, trying out their various machines, moving locations, and usually working at a fever pitch. But,.like fishing, it's the thrill of waiting for the big one that keeps you going. And even a few little ones will do - especially in today's economy.
If gold is ever found again in quantity, the world will know about it. Until then, we'll let the winter snows cover it all up, and we'll hope for a shiny spring.
Yes, gold fever has struck again in Idaho's Boise Basin. Beginning in 1863, more gold was taken from here than from Alaska during the gold rush there, leaving behind a rich history and towns that thrive on tourism. Then when it was over it was over - until the price of gold skyrocketed, bringing forth entrepreneurs with their dreams.
Or are they more like fishermen? If the fish don't bite you change the bait. If that doesn't work you change fishing holes. That's what's happening here. They dig,.using their various machines, and move to new locations to try again. There's gold here. That's a fact. It's just a matter of finding an economical way to get it out.
If gold is found again in quantity the world will know about it. Until then, winter snows will cover the ground and we'll hope for a shining yellow spring.
Or are they more like fishermen? If the fish don't bite you change the bait. If that doesn't work you change fishing holes. That's what's happening here. They dig,.using their various machines, and move to new locations to try again. There's gold here. That's a fact. It's just a matter of finding an economical way to get it out.
If gold is found again in quantity the world will know about it. Until then, winter snows will cover the ground and we'll hope for a shining yellow spring.
As much as I've been in the woods, I've never seen a wolf. So I was happy to recieve a skull to process. He was taken on Hungarian Ridge near Idaho City, ID by a local hunter.
I was awed by his jaws and teeth. He was equipped to break large bones of any animal. His jaws opened at least ten inches and his large canine teeth would penetrate deep into his prey.
After seeing the size of the animal, I was amazed at the fact that they were brought in from Canada and turned loose on our elk herds here in the northwest. Why it was done is open to question. It seems to me that the losers in the project are the wolves.
Wolves have always killed elk and whatever game is available in the way nature intended. By introducing more wolves, the balance has grown out of control. The harvest of game by man can be controlled through determined territories, length of hunting seasons and the number of hunting licenses issued. No restrictions can be put on wolves who must eat year around. So to keep the game in balance, the wolves must be killed.
Nature takes care of her own. Men seems to conplicate her authority.
I was awed by his jaws and teeth. He was equipped to break large bones of any animal. His jaws opened at least ten inches and his large canine teeth would penetrate deep into his prey.
After seeing the size of the animal, I was amazed at the fact that they were brought in from Canada and turned loose on our elk herds here in the northwest. Why it was done is open to question. It seems to me that the losers in the project are the wolves.
Wolves have always killed elk and whatever game is available in the way nature intended. By introducing more wolves, the balance has grown out of control. The harvest of game by man can be controlled through determined territories, length of hunting seasons and the number of hunting licenses issued. No restrictions can be put on wolves who must eat year around. So to keep the game in balance, the wolves must be killed.
Nature takes care of her own. Men seems to conplicate her authority.
13 December 2009
Return Of The Mountain Man
Roger is now busy with quiet things such as working on his European mounts, but it wasn't always that way. Life with him began as a wild west adventure and continued as such for many years.
I was recently reminded of the near-catastrophe with his father, Mose, just a few days after we were married. It was hunting season, a fitting start for our life together, and Mose decided to take relatives to hunt one of his favorite spots in the country where he had lived all his life. He drove to a basin about ten miles from home, pointed the hunters in the right direction, and then he took a stand in a low saddle nearby in hopes an elk would pass by on its way to feed. He couldn't accompany the hunters because he had a bad heart. They would meet at the pickup at dark.
After dark, the hunters came back to the house, saying that Mose wasn't at the pickup as planned. So, like the wild west of old, horses and riders appeared to scout the country. Those who didn't ride took off in jeeps and other four-wheel-drive vehicles.
In the kitchen of the ranch house, female friends and family waited with Stella, Roger's mother. As the night wore on, conversation wore thin as we attempted to take her mind from the circumstances. Periodically, some would retreat to the couch for a few winks of sleep. Dark turned to daylight, and the road in front of the house was empty of passing cars. The morning wore on, and occasionaly a car came by, but it was unknown. The situation was dire because Mose not only had a bad heart, he was diabetic, he had only one arm, and he was in his late seventies.
Then, at mid-morning, a car appeared in the distance that looked like that of Uncle Bill, Mose's brother. As Stella sat quietly at the table, the rest of the group rose to the windows. "It look's like Bill's car," someone shouted. "Yes, it is Bill's car, but I can't see the driver or if there's any passengers," another chimed in. "I see the driver and I think I see a passenger." "Yes, there is a passenger, but I can't tell who it is." "I see that the driver is Bill." Then the car stopped. All conversation ceased as the passenger stepped out and slowly headed toward the house. "It's Mose!" was shouted in unison as tears of joy streamed down tired faces.
As Mose walked slowly up the stairs and opened the kitchen door all voices were quiet. He nonchalantly placed his hat on the rack inside the door, paying no attention to the crowd in the kitchen. Stella, who was still seated at the table, crossed her arms in front of her, and quietly and slowly said, "Well, where have you been?
"Don't bark at me! I haven't had my breakfast!" was the answer. The kitchen crowd smiled and left The mountain man had returned, and he probably needed a nap before he ate his breakfast.
I was recently reminded of the near-catastrophe with his father, Mose, just a few days after we were married. It was hunting season, a fitting start for our life together, and Mose decided to take relatives to hunt one of his favorite spots in the country where he had lived all his life. He drove to a basin about ten miles from home, pointed the hunters in the right direction, and then he took a stand in a low saddle nearby in hopes an elk would pass by on its way to feed. He couldn't accompany the hunters because he had a bad heart. They would meet at the pickup at dark.
After dark, the hunters came back to the house, saying that Mose wasn't at the pickup as planned. So, like the wild west of old, horses and riders appeared to scout the country. Those who didn't ride took off in jeeps and other four-wheel-drive vehicles.
In the kitchen of the ranch house, female friends and family waited with Stella, Roger's mother. As the night wore on, conversation wore thin as we attempted to take her mind from the circumstances. Periodically, some would retreat to the couch for a few winks of sleep. Dark turned to daylight, and the road in front of the house was empty of passing cars. The morning wore on, and occasionaly a car came by, but it was unknown. The situation was dire because Mose not only had a bad heart, he was diabetic, he had only one arm, and he was in his late seventies.
Then, at mid-morning, a car appeared in the distance that looked like that of Uncle Bill, Mose's brother. As Stella sat quietly at the table, the rest of the group rose to the windows. "It look's like Bill's car," someone shouted. "Yes, it is Bill's car, but I can't see the driver or if there's any passengers," another chimed in. "I see the driver and I think I see a passenger." "Yes, there is a passenger, but I can't tell who it is." "I see that the driver is Bill." Then the car stopped. All conversation ceased as the passenger stepped out and slowly headed toward the house. "It's Mose!" was shouted in unison as tears of joy streamed down tired faces.
As Mose walked slowly up the stairs and opened the kitchen door all voices were quiet. He nonchalantly placed his hat on the rack inside the door, paying no attention to the crowd in the kitchen. Stella, who was still seated at the table, crossed her arms in front of her, and quietly and slowly said, "Well, where have you been?
"Don't bark at me! I haven't had my breakfast!" was the answer. The kitchen crowd smiled and left The mountain man had returned, and he probably needed a nap before he ate his breakfast.
12 December 2009
Recently I picked up my sheep from a breeder who has a flock of 200 American Barbados sheep. Although my sheep is a Suffolk ewe, a woolie sheep with a black face, I like the breeder and I liked his sheep, and so I decided to cross them with the Suffolk even though the Barbados are tiny little things with hair instead of wool For the breeder, his sheep are a means of making a living, but I'm in the sheep business just for fun with a tiny flock to enjoy.
Among his sheep, I noticed a ewe who was crippled. Upon closer observation, I noticed her ear was torn. The breeder told me she was blind, and when she strayed away from the flock, a coyote got her. He agreed to let me take her home.
Whether she and the Suffolk were friends before or they became that way from riding together in the pickup for the 100-mile trip home, I don't know. But the little Barbados mainly ignores the other sheep that are like herself, and shadows the Suffolk who is twice her size. It's as if she finds safety trailing a large animal. The Suffolk, named Beauty by the way, seems fine with the arrangement.
As I write this,. the sun is shining in their snowy pen, and they are lying down together ,soaking up the rays. When Beauty gets up to go into the shed, she'll have the little one right beside her.
No one told anyone to look after the less-than-whole little sheep. No agency had a thing to do with them. That's one of the appealing thing about animals.. They know how to take care of their own. Although Beauty was named in jest, the big sheep who towers above the rest was given a proper name after all..
Among his sheep, I noticed a ewe who was crippled. Upon closer observation, I noticed her ear was torn. The breeder told me she was blind, and when she strayed away from the flock, a coyote got her. He agreed to let me take her home.
Whether she and the Suffolk were friends before or they became that way from riding together in the pickup for the 100-mile trip home, I don't know. But the little Barbados mainly ignores the other sheep that are like herself, and shadows the Suffolk who is twice her size. It's as if she finds safety trailing a large animal. The Suffolk, named Beauty by the way, seems fine with the arrangement.
As I write this,. the sun is shining in their snowy pen, and they are lying down together ,soaking up the rays. When Beauty gets up to go into the shed, she'll have the little one right beside her.
No one told anyone to look after the less-than-whole little sheep. No agency had a thing to do with them. That's one of the appealing thing about animals.. They know how to take care of their own. Although Beauty was named in jest, the big sheep who towers above the rest was given a proper name after all..
07 December 2009
Friends
Recently, I picked up my ewe from a breeder of American Barbados sheep. Although my sheep is a Suffolk, a thick-wool sheep with a black face who towers over the tiny Barbados, I liked the breeder and I liked his sheep so I wanted to cross mine and see what the offspring would look like. For him, the sheep are a means of making a living. For me, my tiny flock is there just to enjoy.
When I picked up the ewe, whose name is Beauty, by the way, I noticed a Barbados who was crippled in one of her legs. Upon closer examination, I saw that her ear was torn in half. The breeder told me that she was blind, and when she strayed away from the flock, a coyote apparently got her. He agreed to let me take her home.
Whether she and Beauty were friends at the breeders or whether they became friends as they traveled together in the pickup I don't know, but when they arrived here the little blind sheep shadowed Beauty's every move. As I write this, they are lying together in the sunshine that fills their snowy pen, soaking up the warm rays. When Beauty goes into the shed, the little sheep will be right beside her as though she realizes she's safe when she trails beside the larger animal. The arrangement seems to be fine with Beauty.
No one told the flock how to take care of the less-than-whole sheep. No agency intervened to dictate arrangements. That's one thing that is so pleasing about the animal world. They know how to take care of their own.
Beauty was named by us in jest. It seems that she was given a proper name after all.
When I picked up the ewe, whose name is Beauty, by the way, I noticed a Barbados who was crippled in one of her legs. Upon closer examination, I saw that her ear was torn in half. The breeder told me that she was blind, and when she strayed away from the flock, a coyote apparently got her. He agreed to let me take her home.
Whether she and Beauty were friends at the breeders or whether they became friends as they traveled together in the pickup I don't know, but when they arrived here the little blind sheep shadowed Beauty's every move. As I write this, they are lying together in the sunshine that fills their snowy pen, soaking up the warm rays. When Beauty goes into the shed, the little sheep will be right beside her as though she realizes she's safe when she trails beside the larger animal. The arrangement seems to be fine with Beauty.
No one told the flock how to take care of the less-than-whole sheep. No agency intervened to dictate arrangements. That's one thing that is so pleasing about the animal world. They know how to take care of their own.
Beauty was named by us in jest. It seems that she was given a proper name after all.
23 November 2009
Too Many Wolves?
As much as I've been in the woods, I've never seen a wolf. So I was happy to receive one to process. He was taken on Hungarian Ridge near Idaho City, ID by a local hunter.
I was amazed at the size of the teeth and jaws of the animal. His jaw opened at least ten inches and his large canine teeth were equipped to tear into any prey.
Wolves have always killed to eat. It's the way nature intended. However, why more wolves were brought from Canada and introduced into our elk herds in Idaho is open to question.
The number of game taken by man can be controlled through established territories, length of seasons and the number of hunting licenses issued. No restrictions can be put on wolves who must eat all year. As a result, the game has dwindled and the wolves must now be killed.
Nature has a method of taking care of her own. When men tamper with her authority, somebody loses. In this case, it seems it is the wolves.
I was amazed at the size of the teeth and jaws of the animal. His jaw opened at least ten inches and his large canine teeth were equipped to tear into any prey.
Wolves have always killed to eat. It's the way nature intended. However, why more wolves were brought from Canada and introduced into our elk herds in Idaho is open to question.
The number of game taken by man can be controlled through established territories, length of seasons and the number of hunting licenses issued. No restrictions can be put on wolves who must eat all year. As a result, the game has dwindled and the wolves must now be killed.
Nature has a method of taking care of her own. When men tamper with her authority, somebody loses. In this case, it seems it is the wolves.
15 November 2009
Montana's Story
When the blogs were read to my first-grade grand daughter, she wanted to add her own. The results warmed my heart. I hope you enjoy it, too.Punctuation was added and spelling corrected in places, but that's all.
"Hi. my name is Montana and I have a dog named spike and a dog named rocky and Casey. And I have a cat named patches and another cat named little fellow and a horse named popcorn and I come and I visit all the time. I visit not just my dog, but my grandpa. Now you see that I don't just visit. I be me and I be loved, and you be you. Bye."
"Hi. my name is Montana and I have a dog named spike and a dog named rocky and Casey. And I have a cat named patches and another cat named little fellow and a horse named popcorn and I come and I visit all the time. I visit not just my dog, but my grandpa. Now you see that I don't just visit. I be me and I be loved, and you be you. Bye."
13 November 2009
Is There Gold In Them Thar Hills?
Yes, gold fever has struck again in Idaho's Boise Basin. Beginning in 1863, more gold was taken from here than from Alaska's gold rush. When it was over it was over, leaving behind a rich history and towns that thrive on tourism. Then the price of gold skyrocketed, bringing out entrepreneurs who put their hearts into their work in hopes of striking big.
Or are the entreprenurs more like fishermen? When fishing, if the fish don't bite you change bait. If that doesn't work you move to another hole. And so they dig, using their various machines, then move to new locations with a new plan of attack. There is gold here.That's a fact. It's a matter of finding an economical way to extract it.
If gold is found again in quantity, the world will know about it. Until then, winter snows will cover the ground, and we'll wait for a shiny, yellow spring.
Or are the entreprenurs more like fishermen? When fishing, if the fish don't bite you change bait. If that doesn't work you move to another hole. And so they dig, using their various machines, then move to new locations with a new plan of attack. There is gold here.That's a fact. It's a matter of finding an economical way to extract it.
If gold is found again in quantity, the world will know about it. Until then, winter snows will cover the ground, and we'll wait for a shiny, yellow spring.
08 November 2009
Should Kittens Grow Into Cats?
I like cats that are good hunters. I have some, and our neighborhood is full of them, so the hay-pile tarp remains free of mice and moles. But next door the female Manx (cats without tails) had kittens, and among them was a calico female. Female Manx are excellent hunters and so are calicos so I saw no reason not to add another good hunter to the neighborhood. Besides that, my grand daughter would be thrilled with a new kitten.
When we brought the little thing home, I sat in the living room admiring the eight ounce ball of yellow, black, and white fluff as she jumped and pounced on nothing in particular. I saw her hunting potential and I knew that as she grew shed' be just the hunter I had hoped for. At the same time, my little grand daughter visited us, carried her around the neighborhood all day, thrilled, as I had imagined, with her new baby kitten.
Two weeks later my grand daughter visited again . She leaped out of the car and ran for the kitten who was playing in the yard. Then she ran to me with the kitten in her arms, fighting back tears. Wailing with desperation in her voice she said, "Grandpa, my kitten grew!"
She somehow thought her gift of a baby kitten would remain as she first laid eyes on it. I saw the kitten hunting as a grown cat. And the kitten? It would probably grow as kittens do and turn into the cat it wanted to be without advice from either of us.
I
When we brought the little thing home, I sat in the living room admiring the eight ounce ball of yellow, black, and white fluff as she jumped and pounced on nothing in particular. I saw her hunting potential and I knew that as she grew shed' be just the hunter I had hoped for. At the same time, my little grand daughter visited us, carried her around the neighborhood all day, thrilled, as I had imagined, with her new baby kitten.
Two weeks later my grand daughter visited again . She leaped out of the car and ran for the kitten who was playing in the yard. Then she ran to me with the kitten in her arms, fighting back tears. Wailing with desperation in her voice she said, "Grandpa, my kitten grew!"
She somehow thought her gift of a baby kitten would remain as she first laid eyes on it. I saw the kitten hunting as a grown cat. And the kitten? It would probably grow as kittens do and turn into the cat it wanted to be without advice from either of us.
I
05 November 2009
The Smartest Elk In Idaho
Just before the city limits of Boise, Idaho a ranch is still intact. On the east end is a housing development, but on the west end cows and horses graze and eat hay, and the bulls do the same across the road. It's a pleasant respite before entering the busyness of the city, but most important is the sight of a large bull elk that has taken up residence with the bulls. Usually only his antlers are seen as he lies back away from the road to chew his cud. Some people say that something is wrong with him, that he doesn't have the instincts of a wild animal. I say he's super smart - so smart that he has become a media star in the Boise newspaper, on television, and with hundreds of photographers. He leaves during mating season to do his bit to ensure the continuation of the elk herds in Idaho, and then he returns to his life of ease.
The ranch was chosen for a huge subdivision with a shopping mall to susatain the subdivision population. Then the economy turned. Without that situation, the ranch, the cows, the bulls, and the bull elk would be gone. It seems that no matter how bad things get, there is always something in every situation to bring enjoyment, if only for a little while.
The ranch was chosen for a huge subdivision with a shopping mall to susatain the subdivision population. Then the economy turned. Without that situation, the ranch, the cows, the bulls, and the bull elk would be gone. It seems that no matter how bad things get, there is always something in every situation to bring enjoyment, if only for a little while.
03 November 2009
Boys And Horses
Three 20-year-old boys arrived the other day to pick up their horses for an eleven-day hunting trip. They'd be camped out and they were dressed in their western best. Only one of them had been a cowboy all his life, the others were learning and eager to be in that class. Their eyes sparkled in anticipation of the trip. They looked like young gun slingers who were about to head for Dodge to root out the bad guys. Not an unusual scene, perhaps. But the two who hadn't been cowboys were, in the past, young men in trouble, headed for a life of problems. It was their introduction to horses that changed things. There is something about working with animals that can give a purpose to those who have none - young and old alike. Maybe that's one reason our ties with the old west are so strong.
02 November 2009
The Morning Routine
It's morning now and the day's routine has begun. The three big dogs who have had their morning milk ( a habit that started I don't know where and can't seem to be broken) are stretched out at my feet. The cats have been called outside after their breakfast, so I assume the mice have run for cover. The rooster next door is repetively crowing so the world will know he's on the job in the henhouse. The sheep are blatting now and the mule is honking, It's time to step into the cold to finish the morning's duties. All is well on the north side of Idaho City.
27 October 2009
It's Fall Time, and in Western Idaho, Winter Winds are Beginning to Blow
It's Fall time, and in Western Idaho Winter winds are beginning to blow. Soon the few colorless leaves that cling tenaciously to cottonwoods will give up their hold and fall to the ground. Snow will cover them so they may remain intact, creating soil from which new plants will spring next season.
The last of procrastinators are lumbering home with pickups piled with firewood for Winter warmth, meeting along the way hunters whose bounty lay in pickup beds. Their families are assured of meat for the Winter.
The temperatures at night here in Idaho City are freezing and below. Gardens, though usually small because of the rock soil, have been harvested and the produce canned.
Fields of green in the county now sprout mounds of hay, and animals that depend on it will eat in abundance this Winter to protect themselves from the cold.
All is well in the little town that survives no matter what happens on the troubled national scene. It's satisfying to flow with the seasons.
The last of procrastinators are lumbering home with pickups piled with firewood for Winter warmth, meeting along the way hunters whose bounty lay in pickup beds. Their families are assured of meat for the Winter.
The temperatures at night here in Idaho City are freezing and below. Gardens, though usually small because of the rock soil, have been harvested and the produce canned.
Fields of green in the county now sprout mounds of hay, and animals that depend on it will eat in abundance this Winter to protect themselves from the cold.
All is well in the little town that survives no matter what happens on the troubled national scene. It's satisfying to flow with the seasons.
17 October 2009
European Mounts Preserve Your Trophy Animal Affordably
208-392-4514
Email: jrlong10@yahoo.com
I live on Elk Creek in the midst of hunting grounds in the lower Sawtooth Mountains just east of the Boise, Idaho foothills. I'm retired now, but my life as a Montana rancher and big-game outfitter is still in my blood, and I share the excitement of your hunt by preserving it with the finest of European Mounts.
I know what it takes to bring home a trophy animal and I want to preserve it for you in the best possible manner so you can share the hunt with your family and friends. A quality European mount is an appealing way to do this, and much less expensive than a traditional mount. I use dermistid beetles for the first step in preserving the skull. Rather than the damage that is done by boiling, this method insures that the bones stay intact. Then they are put through a degreaser process and bleached for superior whiteness.
Please contact us for more information via phone (208-392-4514) or email (jrlong10@yahoo.com). Thank you and happy hunting!!!
Please contact us for more information via phone (208-392-4514) or email (jrlong10@yahoo.com). Thank you and happy hunting!!!
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