2009 February Archive at Beside the Stream

Archive for February, 2009

A Bactrian Camel

Published by Alice on February 28, 2009 in market. 3 Comments

I think the hardest part about opening a grocery store is the initial order–what exactly are we going to put on the shelves???

We spent yesterday in Dolores, on a second visit to a grocery store we’re using as a model to stock our store. Our customers will include WIC moms and gourmet home cooks. We’ll be selling low-end and high-end, but not so much middle… at least that’ll be our initial stock. It’s a giant day, and Bob and I are both stuffed with so much new information that we can barely see straight.

But still, we stopped to admire the beautiful camel on the way back home.

This Bactrian camel is the best thing about going to Dolores. He lives in a high- altitude pasture next to some broken down vehicles, and I think he’s old. He looks right at home in the landscape, and I’ve admired him for years. I don’t think he does anything except hang around, which makes him the largest pet I’ve ever seen.

This German Bactrian camel photo posted in Wikipedia and a dozen other photos suggests that my favorite pet camel near Dolores is very plump, which is why he has such turgid humps (love ‘em).

The limits of imagination, or, Two stray slides

Published by Alice on February 26, 2009 in photography. 2 Comments

This is a famous buffalo photo.

(Photograph of a pile of bison skulls waiting to be ground for fertilizer, mid-1870s . Courtesy of the Burton Historical Collection, Detroit Public Library.)

This photograph of 40,000 buffalo hides was taken within a few years of the previous shot.

It wasn’t that long ago that this region was truly wild.

Market Update

Published by Alice on February 25, 2009 in market. 12 Comments

The checkout counters were wired in yesterday through their new umbilicuses to the ceiling. Bob had the metal casings fabricated by our favorite welder.

This is the prep area in the back. Bob and four other guys put up the hood last week with a rented hydraulic jack (it’s very heavy). The walls in the whole back area are being tiled so they’re cleanable. I have a favorite tiler, but our partner hired Rory in a contract that included a long-standing bar bill.

Rory’s site dog Tasha has been on the job for thirteen years.

This is the side of the building that faces the highway. (We’ll be painting it when it’s warm at night; until then we’re enjoying two-toned neutrals.) We’re putting a BIG sign on this side of the building.

This is a mock-up. Hope you love it.

A Pet Beaver

Published by Alice on February 23, 2009 in beaver. 1 Comment

I’m working on slides for a lecture in DC in April.

Canada Science Technology Museum, Image No.:CN000942 c. 1931

This is my favorite slide. See the Indian’s braid? It’s Grey Owl. Born and raised in Hastings, England as Archibald Belaney, he posed as a Native American for most of his adult life. Grey Owl kept beavers as pets, and helped restore them to the Canadian wilderness.

Meltdown

Published by Alice on February 23, 2009 in snow storm. 0 Comments

There’s a drizzle today that’s probably snow in the high country.

Can you see the rain? The stream just lost its ice, and the snow is starting to recede.

Here are two deer paths converging in the back field (the bare spot to the left is our leach field). As soon as the snow leaves the high country, the deer will be gone. Until then, the gardens are under siege.

Deer don’t usually eat iris, but here they can’t seem to decide between trampling the plants or shearing them off at the base (let’s try both). (It’s been fun, but I’ll be glad when they’re gone).

In honor of mid-Winter

Published by Alice on February 20, 2009 in uncategorized. 3 Comments

Here are flowers from May

June

and July.

Winter ticks

Published by Alice on February 18, 2009 in elk herd. 7 Comments

Eeeeeew!!! This gang of elk is infested with winter ticks!

The horse and cow in this field are being visited by a dozen elk carrying a thousand ticks,

but these ticks specialize in deer, elk and moose; domesticated animals aren’t particularly susceptible to them.

The ticks will drop off in March or April to mate; they lay their eggs in May, and die.

The eggs hatch, and in the fall the larvae of the winter tick (also known as the elk tick and moose tick) will crawl onto the tips of plants to jump onto a new host.

This yearling will look better in another month, but for now he’s as cute as a bug with buboes.

Sorry about the ticks, big guy.

Skiing

Published by Alice on February 17, 2009 in snow storm. 8 Comments

I’ve skied since I was three and lived near a ski mountain for most of my adult life. We live about 15 minutes from Purgatory (now Durango Mountain Resort), and I have a pass that allows me to zip up, take some runs, and get back before you know it. I’ve never taken my camera skiing before, but I did today. Here’s the drill: the steep part of this mountain is the backside, and it takes two lifts to get there.

First we go up the six-pack.

Here’s the view at the top, and it’s a leisurely ski over to the quad.

All of the cliffs on the mountain are measured, and people (i.e. the teenaged boys (Sam)) know exactly how high they are. The problem is not the jump but the landing–steep landings are better. A kid died at the base of this cliff last year because there was so much snow that he suffocated in the flat landing… as the quad rolled on.

This is the view on the way to the backside–I’m skiing to the valley bottom,

where the terrain is getting steeper

and taking this lift with no guard or footrest (hate it) to the very top.

It’s like heaven up here,

at 10,822 feet. Breathe deep. Inspire.

Two turkeys

Published by Alice on February 17, 2009 in Merriam's wild turkey. 3 Comments

I told you that two wild turkeys are spending the winter with us, but I didn’t expect to have so little to show for it.

These are the kind of photographs you get when the animals are afraid of you.

When you consider that I’ve been doling out 50 pounds of cracked corn, day by day, you think they’d feel a little friendlier. But they don’t.

This is from last February, back when the turkeys felt like welcome guests. Go figure.

A dead elk and a poem

Published by Alice on February 15, 2009 in elk herd. 4 Comments

This elk was hit by a car today.

It looks like it has a broken neck, and is so recently killed that the crows haven’t broken its skin.

The elk ivories are still intact, but the backstrap is gone. If I was less squeamish I could have gone home for pliers and a sharp knife, and taken the eyeteeth and some meat for the dog; I took these photos instead.

One Art

by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;

so many things seem filled with the intent

to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster

of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:

places, and names, and where it was you meant

to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or

next-to-last, of three loved houses went.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,

some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident

the art of losing’s not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Beside the Stream