Tag Archives: Wyoming

Riding Fence

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Cowboys Pinedale Wyoming

If you want to see fence go to Wyoming. They have some. Miles of it in fact, miles and miles and miles of it. It stretches from here, where you happen to be at the moment, to way the heck out there. Beyond however far you can see. If you have new glasses, or have just got your eyes done and think you have the eyesight of a young eagle, you still can’t see the end of it. Stand on top of your car, jump up real high, squint and still the fence goes on. Too put it simply there is a lot of fence in Wyoming.

Ok if you’re one to ask questions about fence and fencing in general, and I suspect you are, here are some answers.

Is fencing dangerous? Fencing in and of itself is not inherently dangerous, although it is terribly unforgiving of your desire to just turn left and drive off into the pasture land, willy nilly, as it were. One exception, most fencing is wire and it’s got pickily, stickery pieces with sharp pointy edges every 8″ along the entire length of it. This is known in the trade as Barb wire (Easterners say Barbed wire which clearly identifies them as tourists, dudes and tenderfeet) and is the primary fencing material used in the west and Wyoming. These are designed to tear your brand new $120.00 jeans if you try to sneak thru it by crawling over or under or trying to jump it and missing. So be warned of that.

Does fencing block off access? Fencing does block off access. This is both good and bad. Bad if you’re one to go out onto someone’s land and squat there. Build a house maybe, scatter old wrecked windshield-less cars from the 40’s around. Put up signs saying things like “The Jones Live here. No Trespassing.” Or “Beauty Acres, We Don’t rent Chickens.” The people who really own that land don’t like that. They don’t want you to do that, Hence the Fence. The good, because it keeps things like the above from happening.

Why do they have so much fence you might ask and can I go and see it? Yes you can go and see it. Just behave yourself. There is a lot of space in Wyoming. You can drive for what seems like days and not meet an oncoming vehicle. And people somewhat like you and I (but not us) own it, all of it. Even parts that don’t look like they’d be worth owning, someone does, and it isn’t you and me. This is neither good or bad it just is, deal with it. I don’t know about you but I don’t own one square inch of any fencible land in Wyoming. I’m betting you don’t either, unless of course you’re a bonafide Wyoming landowner, and if you are you already know all this stuff.

What’s the real reason they have fencing, not the bull you’ve been handing out so far? Ok, the real skinny on fencing and why it’s done can be answered in one word, Cows. Cows is the reason we have McDonalds. There are other restaurants too that are in the cow meat business because of cows and lets face it if you want to eat cow meat while you’re out driving around looking at fences, you have to go to McDonalds. Wyoming landowners have figured this out some time ago and taken advantage of this knowledge by buying up and owning the entire state of Wyoming and then fencing it.

Why do Wyoming landowners like fencing so much? Because. That’s it in a nutshell, because they want to and can.The fences keep one guys cows on his own place and doesn’t allow those cows to mingle or fraternize with the guy’s cows next to him. Each guy and/or girl feels very strongly about this. There’s been trouble about it, so like they say “good fences make good neighbors”. Because of this it is imperative that one’s fences are in good repair, not busted and laying on the ground so cows can leave and get all mixed up with someone else’s. To make certain of this the landowner employs cowboy type guys to inspect the fence regularly for damage. This is known as Riding Fence in western or Wyoming talk. The image above shows two young cowboy trainees riding along a fence to check its integrity and continuity. This is an important job and taken very seriously by all involved. If they find any discrepancies they will immediately race home and tell the landowner so it can be fixed. Good job boys. Thanks for helping all of us better understand fence and fencing.

How Avocets Drink

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*The Institute just got word that were Avocets up at Hutton Lake in Wyoming and they were drinking. Now to most of you this is a so what, snore, yeah, kind of thing but to us it’s a really big deal. We have an entire department devoted to all things birds. How they work, what their middle names are, can you eat them, what makes them different from Homo sapiens or web-footed ungulates. Anything and everything birds. We’re like the CNN of this stuff.

Our bird or Ornithology department was busy when the information came in about the Avocets drinking. We had them out near our final perimeter fence installing those new ultra-powerful hydrofracting transformers to run the 880 amp tri-ithulim fencing we installed to keep trespassers out of the sensitive areas we have over there. That’s why we had to send a cobbled together team made up of one of our cooks, the guy that passes out the shovels and hoes to the interns as they go to work in the morning, our senior cartologist as he’s the only one of the bunch that can string two sentences together and our staff photographer.

Our staff photographer is the one that made it possible to understand how the Avocet’s manage to drink. Unbeknownst to us he had developed, completely on his own, an App-like device that can be retrofitted on digital cameras called the SloMoStill. This is a revolutionary device that can be coupled to a camera with large fat rubber bands and duck tape and with the additional software provided cause light to slowdown as it passes through the camera’s lens, thereby stopping the action in the shot so it can be recorded on the sensor. You can see that at work as you look at the water droplets suspended in air in the image above. See they’re not falling back into the water as gravity demands. Genius. Because of the new ability this invention provides us we can now see in perfect clarity how Avocets drink.

Look at that long recurved bill. That is not a straw. The end of its beak is way out in front of where its mouth is, so the Avocet when it wants to drink has to stuff its whole head and mouth underwater to accomplish this, thereby risking drowning or being pounced on by a predator that does not have its head stuck underwater, or so we thought. But because the new SloMoStill camera App was at work our crack photographer has proven this is wrong. Instead we can see that the Avocet does not stick its whole head in the water and risk getting it in its nairs (bird nostrils) making it cough and/or choke in an embarrassing manner. What it does instead is smack the water’s surface smartly with that long thin beak and as the drops of water rebound into the air, grabs them one at a time to let them roll back into the Avocets mouth. If you look closely you can see a drop of water in the Avocets bill in preparation of being swallowed. Pretty darn clever, eh.

There you have it, another mystery solved by the scientific folks at The Institute. A few short minutes ago you didn’t have a clue as to how an Avocet drank. Now you know it all. Go ahead share it at the water cooler, astound your friends with bird lore that they never thought you knew anything about. Be the envy of the Animal channel watchers as they will never see anything like this there. And it’s all free for the reading. Pass that on to your friends too. Check out *The Institute at BigShotsNow.com and be smarter than everyone else. It’s an American thing to do.

*Note: For those of you unfamiliar with The Institute and what it does, please see the page labeled “The Institute” on the Menu Bar above. That should explain everything. You shouldn’t have one single question remaining after reading it. None. For those of you favored few who already know about the Institute, Nevermind.

Jack Rabbit

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Lots of people don’t know jack about rabbits. If you ask these people about rabbits, like, “So What do you know about rabbits?” many of them will simply say I don’t know jack and walk away. But there is a lot to know about rabbits. Much more than say, aardvarks or 3 toed sloths or even dogs and cats, of which very much is known.

Rabbits have played a huge part in history down through the ages. Take for instance the Easter bunny. There is a bunch of weird but strange facts about how a rabbit and especially one that lays chocolate covered Easter eggs in a basket full of fake green grass made of green cellophane, came to be the head of a multi-gazillion dollar marketing campaign that has spread around the world.

For instance how is the succession of rabbits chosen to be the one true Easter rabbit amongst all the rabbits of the world. How does that work? There are a freaking huge amount of rabbits in virtually every country on the globe, how do they choose that one that will be the head of the rabbit world for the rest of his life. The Head Rabbit that hands down decrees, visits poor children and homeless rabbits around the world, makes decisions and choices which will affect faithful rabbits everywhere, and gets to wear neat Easter rabbit clothes and live in a colossal warren where he is the Big Clover forever.

To answer that we went to the source, which is Hutton Lake National Wildlife Refuge in Wyoming. Wyoming is like Rome to rabbits, and Hutton lake is like the Vatican. This is where anything of importance to rabbits spiritual lives happens. Special envoys are sent from rabbit colonies all around the world to be part of the organization that handles rabbit doctrine. And the single biggest, most important part of their rabbit lives is when an Easter bunny dies and a new one must be chosen.

After the mourning period is over the rest of the rabbits get down to the critical business of selecting the new Easter rabbit. First among equals of each delegation are chosen, then those most important of rabbits are locked in a big cage together and cannot leave until they have unanimously chosen the new Easter rabbit. This can be an extremely contentious time with much un-rabbit like discussion and occasional ear pulling, and the occasional well placed thump from an extra large hind foot. Each delegation has an interest in the new Easter rabbit, as this gives much prestige to their colonies back home but more importantly allows their regional viewpoints to be heard and hopefully implemented.

Each day is spent in reflection, discussions, maneuvering, imploring, deal making, whatever it takes to come to a consensus. At the end of each day a vote is taken and if there is no unanimous decision amongst them the rabbits burn a sage brush treated to produce black smoke. This means no new Easter rabbit was chosen. The next day they repeat the process until they finally come to a unanimous decision on which of them will become the new Easter rabbit. When the decision is made they burn some sage treated to create white smoke and the multitudes of rabbits waiting impatiently for the newest Easter rabbit to be chosen, let out squeaks and cries of ecstasy and joy that can be heard for miles. In fact it can be heard around the world as news travels at the speed of light and informs the faithful that there is a new Easter rabbit.

Within days the factories crank up production of chocolate facsimiles of the new Easter Rabbit, chocolate covered Easter eggs are flying off the assembly line, tons and tons of fake green grass is produced and marshmallow chicks and rabbits are quickly packaged and loaded onto 18 wheelers for delivery to big box stores around the country. The Easter business is back in business.

Meanwhile back at Hutton lake the conclave of important rabbits has disassembled and gone back to the business at hand of running one of the biggest groups of mammals on the planet. It won’t belong until we see the fruits of their labors as Easter is just around the corner. Hopefully there will be enough chocolate covered everything to go around. If this new Easter bunny has his way there will be. And that’s a good thing.

Sing A Song Of Morning

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We’re not the only ones that find joy in the first light of morning. Our companions on this big blue ball hurtling through space find as much pleasure in the beginning of the day as we do. For some it means that they’ve made it through another night and celebrate the gift of another day. For others it may just be the colors and freshness of the light that gives them reason to address the morning.

This plover seems to be one of those that is finding the colors of the morning require some comment. Perhaps a word of thanks, or a call to the universe to say it is here and alive and glad of it. I belong to that camp. Just take it in. Be immersed in the moment. Be glad you’re alive. Sing a song of the morning just because you can.

Reemergence

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One of the tales we have posted in the past dealt with the heart-breaking story of the Scottish Thistle farmers of the Jackson Hole area in Northern Wyoming. Briefly, they were early immigrants to the area and brought with them their ways, traditions, farming techniques, and a streak of bull-headiness seldom seen in an area noted for its stubbornness.

As described in this earlier post http://www.bigshotsnow.com/thistle-farm/ these new comers to the valley were bound and determined to sow their seeds and reap the harvest of thistle thereby capturing and dominating the thistle market. But due to ignorance and the refusal to take any advice regarding the agricultural limits in this part of the country they met with a stunning defeat, a failure of magnificent proportions, that bankrupted each and every family in the thistle industry.

Soon they were seen leaving the area. All their earthly goods piles into wains of all sizes, their women walking listlessly behind them, some carrying nursing babes at their breasts, the children, the few who had not died from the harsh unforgiving conditions dragging their hoes behind them. The little furrows they left the only sign of their passing. Some of the older men pushing their wooden wheelbarrows ahead of them, still filled with unplanted thistle seed, their hope for the future, as they headed for the new promised land in Nevada. They had heard that the conditions there were perfect for growing thistles and with that dream in their hearts they left Jackson Hole and its surrounding area forever.

The remaining thistle left behind unattended soon withered and died until there were no more thistle plants left alive in the valley. It was as if they never were. However every once in a while a fence rider would come into town and after a few daiquiri’s, or a Golden Grasshopper, both without the little umbrellas in them, this is the west after all, would tell of seeing a thistle plant growing next to a fence post. Of course he was immediately cut off and thrown out of the bar. No one wanted to hear that crazy talk. It was like the stories of Bigfoot or happy marriages, there are some things you just don’t talk about.

For years the plains were empty of thistle, stories of their reemergence swept aside as the ravings of sunblind drovers and frost bitten cowboys. Then one fateful day in early March a prospector came staggering in to town nearly dead from exposure. Clutched in his hand was a thistle. Just the red part but undeniably a thistle. The town needless to say was on the edge of mass hysteria, some not knowing whether they had been snakebit or struck by lightning. Others ran around in circles hollering “Woe are we! The thistles, they’ve returned.” Others unable to stand the stress and strain immediately got blind drunk and were last seen staggering off into the wilderness. It was a time of chaos. A time of fear.

Before long, cooler heads prevailed and the largest posse ever assembled in Teton County, Wyoming was galloping out to find and root out these thistle plants wherever they may be. They were out seven months but finally they returned with a small group of thistle tied across the packhorse’s panniers. The thistle’s heads lopped off as a symbol of victory and worn around their necks as badges of honor. They assured the nervous townsfolk that they had eradicated the thistle from the countryside and it was gone forever. A huge sigh of relief was heard throughout the land and people began to go back to work, safe in the feeling that thistle was gone and gone for good.

But the story is not over, as they seldom are, and it was one of The Institutes own researchers that was responsible for bringing it back to life. We had sent our own Scottish descendant of one of the very first families to settle in the area, Somerfed Fyfe Olgilvy Callum Ewan McLean-Kennedy/Burns or as we all knew him, Tim, to see if there was any truth to the stories of the Reemergence of the Scottish thistle. What he brought back was nothing less than remarkable, clear photographic proof that thistle was alive and well and growing in Teton County. Tim wanted to keep the location secret to protect the plant but we said no Tim, this is too big a story. We have to inform the public. People have to know about the return of the thistle. It’s their right. What the future will bring with this knowledge is anyone’s guess, but I can tell you this, the story is not over. Not while The Institute is still in existence. We will out the truth regardless of consequence. Even if it creates a thistle emergency in Jackson Hole. Let the seeds fall where they will.

Wind River Reservation

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Fall in the West is a pretty incredible time. We don’t have the magnificent range of colors that occur in the East but what we have is just as gorgeous in its own way. We’re heavy on the golds and yellows with a smattering of deep rusty-red when the scrub oak turns. The grey of the hard rock mountains is a perfect foil for the huge expanses of earth tones in the meadows below.

There is no mistaking Fall out here. Especially if you’re traveling through the Wind River reservation. The light this time of year seems tailor-made for showing off these vistas. There’s a reason you see so many calendar shots of this type of scenery. It’s just flat out beautiful. Subtle colors blend together as if by design. Contrast between the harsh outline of the mountains against the softness of the foreground adds to the pleasure of witnessing these timeless views. The beauty of this land cannot be duplicated. Drive out and see for yourself. The only downside to our color show is that it doesn’t last long enough. But while it does it cannot be surpassed.

CrowHeart Butte

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As you drive up that magical highway, highway 287 which runs from Port Arthur, Texas to Choteau, Montana, you will find many amazing and curious things. As the song said “You can’t get to heaven on 287, but you can get as far, as you can get by car.” Along the way there are landmarks and geological features and places where famous and infamous events took place and this is one of them.

This is Crowheart Butte, a place famous for a huge battle that took place here in 1866. The event took place, but exactly how it played out, is still open to discussion. There are several versions of the story but the one that has the most legs is this one I’ve passed on below.

Crowheart Butte is located on the Wind River Reservation somewhat East of Dubois, Wyoming. It is the home of the Shoshone tribe but this wasn’t always the case. In 1866 the Shoshone considered the entire Wind River area their own hunting grounds and vigorously defended it from any incursions by other tribes. The Crow who chose to also hunt here disputed that fact and lay challenge to the Shoshone that they would hunt here as they pleased and the conflict took shape. There were several tribes involved, The Shoshone, the Bannock and the Crow. The Shoshone and Bannock were allied against the Crow. The battle commenced and lasted for five days during which there was great loss of life on both sides.

The chief of the Shoshone, Chief Washakie, challenged the chief of the Crow, Chief Big Robber, to a duel to the death to reduce any further loss of life on either side. The chiefs would fight on the top of the Butte and whoever was the victor would decide who the valley belonged to and the other would leave to hunt there no more forever.

The one who was victorious would cut the heart out of the other and eat it as a symbol of his strength and power. Chief Washakie was the ultimate winner and defeating Chief Big Robber did cut his heart out. This is where the stories differ. Some say he did indeed eat his opponents heart and others say that he impaled it on his lance and brought if back to prove his victory. Supposedly when asked about the incident later in his life he replied “One does reckless things when you are young.” Regardless of the ending of the story regarding what was done to Chief Big Robber’s heart, the Shoshone were now the owners of the valley which later became the Wind River reservation as it is known today.

Because he was so impressed with his enemies fighting abilities, Chief Washakie chose to give Chief Big Robbers tribal name, the Crow, to the butte and the small town that grew up near there. Crowheart butte is visible from miles away and is the prominent feature in the area. It can be seen clearly from highway 287 as you travel from amazing place to another.