El Rancho del Arte

This morning I made an altar.  It reminded me of Prairie when she made an altar for her grandmother in November, for El Dia de los Defuntos, Day of the Dead. And I thought of Ecuador, where we made altars for the Old Year to celebrate the New.This morning I put out two clay vessels of ash, a carved horse head, a wedding invitation and a thank-you card.

Lenten Altar

Mike made the little bowl and I made the person. We made them in church with the Methodists in Joseph. It was fun. It was also somber. Everyone in the church got a piece of clay. We made the pots and then filled them with bits of communal ash. The Canyon Wedding painting and Canyon Wren print were made by Jon, our son-in-law. Our old friend Chuck Gibson carved the horse head one winter on the Snake River and gave it real hair.

Another kind of art, by Jerry Nolte

I didn't think I was making an altar. I was just cleaning up a bit. Taking off the winter tablecloth and putting out a white and yellow runner. And then I saw the pots and horse head on the windowsill and remembered Lent and sacrifice, which made me think of blessings.

Art?  They worked!

In the business of life, sometimes I need an excuse to make art. Luckily, there are plenty of excuses. Where we live. The traditions we follow. Love. Questions. And you, listening to this story.

Dawson made a wooden sheath knife. 

From Sara at Magpie Ranch, Home of Bunchgrass Beef

Bagpipes and Ice on the Imnaha

Half moon in January

Ice flowing in the Imnaha

I drove out to the old timey dance last Saturday night. It seemed kind of ridiculous, travelling 45 miles to play music for the dance, only to drive back to the ranch the next morning.



I couldn't talk Mike into making the trek, but he reminded me that people used to ride six hours to the grange, dance most of the night, ride back home and go to straight to work. I guess that was his way of saying, 'buck-up and enjoy it'.

Playing for dances makes me learn new tunes on the concertina.  Mike helped me practice two new waltzes. Dark Island and Caledonia. We both like Dark Island a lot. Maybe it reminds us of growing up on Puget Sound.

Roasted veggies on a cold day, Sara and Pete

Mike and I weren't the only musicians at the ranch. Long time friend, Pete, came to help out for a few days and brought his bagpipes.

I was remembering when Pete first started playing bagpipes, about eight years ago. It was pretty awful sounding, but we kept telling him it's great, keep practicing. Now it is an honor to have him play for weddings, funerals and soon we hope, dances. He has a nice small set of pipes that he can play in the living room. He also has big pipes that he played outside in the frosty morning. From the kitchen window, I watched him slowly marching back and forth in the driveway, wearing his red balmoral, the sound of the highland pipes filling the canyon.

Pete and Bird

We're in the middle of weaning, so Mike has been spending all his time on the river. It was nice to have Pete's help trailing the cow herd up to the bench.Calves are doing good. Waiting for Dawson to come down and visit them in the corrals.

Trailing to the bench

With nighttime temperatures in the single digits, the river has been pretty iced over in places. One morning Kodee, Gabe's Labrador retriever, and I were surprised by gunshots from some chukar hunters up in the rims across the river. At the sound of the shotguns, Kodee snapped to attention, sighted the hunters far up on the slope and bolted for the river.

Newt and Crazy Kodee

In spite of me yelling at him, he leaped out onto the ice, broke through into the open channel and was swept down stream as he swam across and then struggled to climb out, breaking ice until his feet touched bottom. He would have high-tailed it up toward the bench if Mike hadn't gotten him stopped with a whistle. He almost swam back across when he realized Mike was calling him. Crazy lab.He finally came across the bridge. Enough swimming for one winter's day.

From Sara at Magpie Ranch, home of Bunchgrass Beef

Winter Ranging

Mike scythes a path for the new fence upriver

Winter work is lining out for the year. Upriver along the bar, right through a big patch of poison oak is where we are building the new fence. The old fence, was across the river. It worked pretty good, but the neighbor took it out for fishing access. Mike crossed the river in waders and spent two hours with his custom hand scythe brushing a path through the poison oak .I will be really glad when that fence is built and it is easier to keep the herd where we want them to be.

Jon and Mike crossing back for another load of steel posts

Mike and Jon Rombach ferried the steel posts over using a guide rope and Jon's pontoon boat. It took both of them to keep the boat from swamping in the current.

Jon ferries a batch of posts to the lower section

They got the posts across in one day, which was good because the next day the river rose to 3,000 cubic feet per second, flood stage.

Cammie and Gabe packed out salt

After Christmas, Gabe and Cammie, Dawson and Wes surprized Mike and I by coming down to help for a few days.  It was Weston's first trip to the river. He reminds me of Mike's brother Bill.

Weston looks like he has Uncle Bill's dimple

Cammie and Gabe rode and packed salt while Mike and I took the boys upriver to work on gates. The cattle were glad to get the salt and it will help encourage their distribution across the range.

There was time for a fishing lesson, but Dawson soon took up exploring for snails, empty snake holes, bones and rocks. Gabe and Mike didn't catch anything either.

Dawson on the old bridge abutment

Fishing below the bridge

In January we'll be weaning calves. Herding cattle. Building fence. There are already green sprouts in the sheltered places, and the cold doesn't seem as cold as usual. Will it be a mild winter? Will we see spring earlier than usual?














I love winter in the canyon, because I love being in the canyon. This year, it feels different. I find myself wondering already about summer, remembering the drought we just went through, and not wanting it to come again.


By Sara at Magpie Ranch, home of Bunchgrass Beef

The Fire and The Wedding

In late August, as the drought set in, a hot wind picked up flames from a lighting-strike on the Snake River. We were worried about Ramsdens out north and then we heard how they had fought it in the beginning, when it seemed they might contain the flames. Shoveling, beating the smoldering grass.
But then one acre became a hundred and then a thousand and then ten thousand. They lost their winter feed, evacuated cattle from their summer ground. It brought back memories I don't like to think about.

Years ago, when we were working at the Steen Ranch, we'd been surrounded by a fire. I remember opening gates, trying to find horses and cattle in the thick smoke, praying the wind would shift. And in 2007, a fire burned our winter range, threatening the house and barn. And afterward, we struggled with the expense and toil of finding replacement feed, of having to hold cattle in the valley,  feeding hay and chopping ice during the long dark months.

Fire-burned spring, 2007

Now as Prairie's wedding approached, the Cache Creek fire shifted east and south toward the Imnaha. The Forest Service closed the road to the ranch. The fire had already burned fifty thousand acres and Prairie and Jon had to face giving up their wedding in the canyon. We irrigated around the ranch house, mowed fire breaks and watched the smoke boiling towards us up the river.

 

Jon and Prairie at the River

As luck would have it, the winds shifted and our winter ground was spared. We gave thanks while at the same time grieving our neighbors' losses. The road was still closed, but the Forest Service let us bring Jon's family in for a sweet little gathering alongside the river.

It all worked out. The next afternoon, in a golden swale at the foot of the Wallowa mountains,130 of us shared a community vow at Jon and Prairie's wedding. Afterward, we feasted and danced the night away in our barnyard under a blue moon.

Late night revelers, Cammie and Dawson

Prairie and Jon's All Homemade Wedding Menu

Slow-braised Bunchgrass Beef
Whole Grain Rolls
Spicy and Sweet Barbecue Sauces
Sheepherder Beans
Local fresh crisp veggies
Erin Donovan's famous Green Goddess Dressing
Vinaigrette Cabbage Salad
Aunt Sissy's Texas Cole Slaw
Our Guests' Best Salads
Blackberry-Peach Cobbler
Vanilla Ice Cream

Gabe swings the bride

  From Sara at Magpie Ranch, home of Bunchgrass Beef 

Sustainable Livelihoods - Sustainable Friendships

Naran 4 months old, June 2012

When I think of Mongolia I think of vast open space, the bright colors inside a Ger, the dust and heat and interminable jarring of jeep travel across the Gobi desert. I also think of the smiling faces of our friends, Ene and Aza and the video Mike took of their daughter, Naran, on his trip to Mongolia this past June. In the video, Mike and Naran (which means sun) are in the dining room of Ene and Aza's new home outside the capital of Ulan Batar. I can hear Ene and Aza talking in a room nearby. I feast my eyes on the images of Naran who I haven't seen before, but it is Mike's voice, whispering and cajoling, making the funny sounds grown-ups make to get babies to laugh and smile, that captures my heart. As I watch little Naran's hand grab onto Mike's enormous finger, her sparkling eyes and the gurgle of laughter that spills from her round face, I'm reminded of the precious nature of friendships across the world. 

Arkhangai Province, Mongolia, 2006

In June, Mike was hired to work on Phase III of the Sustainable Livelihoods Project. He first met Aza while working on Phase I in 2006. That year, Mike spent two months travelling the country and learning about the livestock production methods and products of herder households. He was part of an international team sharing information about management tools and market opportunities that herder groups could use to improve their standard of living and the health of the rangelands they rely on. Aza was just 22 years old, and working in the SLP office in Ulan Batar.

Aza and Ene, dominos at Magpie Ranch, 2010

Three years later, Aza applied to graduate school in the US and Mike wrote a letter of recommendation. Before long, we heard that Aza and his fiance had arrived in California, crammed into the apartment of a distant relative while discovering how difficult and expensive it is to find housing is in San Francisco. By spring of 2010, they were ready for a much-needed trip away from studies in the big city. They borrowed a car and drove north to Wallowa County and the Magpie Ranch. They joined in fixing fence and herding cattle, with evenings of games, good meals, storytelling and toasting. 

Mike and Aza fencing

Ene on KP at the ranch

Over the next four years, Mike will be making the long journey to Mongolia on a regular basis. He will see Naran grow into a toddler and then an adventurous little girl. The unfolding lives of Ene and Aza will remind us of our own children and grandchildren. The goals of the sustainable livelihood project will also remind us of  our work at home. Though the landscapes are different, as part of a pastoral system, we share common ties to the land and face the common challenge of adapting to a changing world. We seek profitable markets for our products and strive for the knowledge, skills and relationships needed to sustain both our way of life and the natural systems that we are a part of.

Just like we rely on our neighbors here in Wallowa County to help us out when we need it, I take comfort in knowing that on the other side of the world, Mike has friends to call on.  Whether, stranded, sick or just wanting someone to share a song or story with, I'll know he's in good hands.

Sara, Mike, Ene, Aza

Out of the Canyon and Off to Mongolia

Yay. The cows are on the summer range. It's always a good feeling to make the transition from Horse Creek to the Zumwalt Prairie and have the herd turned out for the season.

Dawson Hale, almost four

Dawson, Mike and I took the first leg and got them started up from the bottom. It was a warm day, but the cows still travelled pretty good. We walked a lot, bringing the pairs up the road, and then Dawson rode for while.









I said, "Do you want to ride double or do you want Grandma to lead you?" "I don't need you to lead me. I can ride by myself," he said. "Mama says if I don't hold onto the reins I have to get off."  Good advice.

When we got to Log Creek we left Chester and Bird with the horse trailer and hiked up after the cows to the first gate. We cleared trail as we went. Mike cut brush and poison oak and thistles with shovel and machete and I attacked the blackberry vines with a pair of loppers. Dawson "whacked weeds" with a stick.

Coming back down Log Creek

Our original plan was for Mike and I to push the cows on up the next day, but then Mike got an offer to do some more work in Mongolia. By the next morning we were saying goodbye in the Walla Walla airport before I headed back to Joseph.





Gabe and Cammie and Dawson met me in the driveway with truck and trailer, horses loaded, ready to finish the job. We drove out to the canyon rim and Gabe and I rode off the top, gathering the herd out of the basin and pushing them back up. We lucked out with cooler temperatures that made the climb easier for the cows and calves.

Once we topped out, Cammie took over for Gabe, the two of us riding the next four hours to the road pasture. The weather took a turn and within an hour, the temperature had dropped and it was spitting rain. Dawson rode double, first with Mom and then Grandma, before the cold and rain drove him into the warm pick-up with Dad.

On top, Sara, Cammie and Dawson

We continued to make good time and reached the road pasture well before dark. Gabe said he thought we could make it all the way in a couple more hours. He was right, the cows probably could have made it, but I couldn't.

My gloves and boots were soaked through and my face was frozen from the last hour of wind-driven sleet. "I've got to get in the pick-up and warm up," I said, teeth chattering. We called it a day and drove home through the storm.

Last day, Gabe and Bird with  Kodee on the Zumwalt

The next morning we had an easy few hours ride to the pasture gate. Gabe and I finished out the job, avoiding McClaran cattle that had just been turned out in the 400 acres.

"Hidden" elk calf

There were cow elk all over the place and we rode right by one calf, folded into the grass below the trail.

Punch - "We did it!"

It was really nice to close the gate after the last cow, knowing the herd was settled for the summer. Even Punch seemed happy.






As we rode back to the road, I said I hoped it would rain when we needed it, that the ponds would last, that the storms, when they came, wouldn't burn up the prairie or the canyon.

And I thought of Mike on his long flight west to Mongolia. Come home safe I thought; the cattle made it to the summer range.



From Sara at Magpie Ranch, home of Bunchgrass Beef

A Conservation Legacy

Spring rains and sunshine have turned the canyons from gold to green. It is a world of fecundity, from the lush ribbon of trees along the river banks to the verdant folds of the grassy benches. A world that hums and flutters and slithers and splashes. A world of osprey and cliff swallow, gosling and merganser, butterfly and bumble bee, bull snake and river otter.

Balsamroot Sunflower

New calves are popping up everywhere. Their mothers emerging from sheltered draws and thickets with wobbly offspring. The calves soon to be cavorting across the benches with their peers.

Heifer nurses her first calf hidden in a draw

We've been helping the neighbors brand. A bunch of good ropers from upriver waded into the herd and a ground crew of young and old wrestled and worked the calves. The more experienced hands razzed each other over missed throws and hollered encouragement to the kids when they dallied on a calf. From young to old, everyone had a job, and if you didn't know how to do it, somebody showed you.  It renewed my appreciation for the skills and muscle that get the work done, and afterward, for the stories and food that reward our labor. 

Next generation getting the job done

Time for a little wrestling 

At the end of the branding, the rain started up again and the narrow steep road got slicker and greasier. I'm glad a few of the cowboys threw their chains on before hauling their horses to town. It's a reminder to take care, to think things through, to use the tools we have. 

Later that day, I cozied up with Rangelands reading a review of the book Generations on the Land: A Conservation Legacy, about the ranches that won Aldo Leopold awards. 

It says the most important tools are planning, partnerships, teaching, sharing and hospitality. It says to steward our resources we need multiple generations. Cattle bred to fit their environment. Adaptive management and enterprise diversification. I'd have to say, it sounds just like what we do. So I guess we're reflective of Leopold's agrarian ethic. We are thankful. 

Dawson riding home with Daddy

From Sara at Magpie Ranch, home of Bunchgrass Beef