For any ranger, one of the many
delightful fringe benefits is an opportunity to live in close proximity to wild
animals. At Piute Meadows, deer were a constant (thanks to the horses’ salt
block on a stump fifty feet from the cabin, which drew every deer in the entire
area to my front yard). Various birds nested in trees, ducks in a nearby pond,
sandpipers on the gravel bar where I bathed. And, when I’d show up at Piute in
June, there’d be a family of marmots under the floor. The babies arrived before
I did. Once they were old enough, the whole family would move out and take up full-time
residence in talus piles under rocky bluffs at the meadow’s edge. In 1996 and
97 I was living with my girlfriend, Diane, down near Lone Pine and the kitties
stayed home with her. Without the presence of predators (not that my cats
would’ve taken out baby marmots) the family seemed more at ease and stuck
around longer than usual. Being kittyless made me grateful for the added
company and I really enjoyed having them around. Here’s a few journal entries
that mentioned my cabin-mates. By July’s end they’d moved on…. (And, by the
way: this was not the first (nor last) time I arrived home to find a marmot in
my plastic grain bucket.)
15 Jul (Mon) Feelin’ beat. Time for an easy day. Worked
on the plant list all morning which, this year, amounts to me poring over my
new Jepson Flora of California (1700+ pages) trying to figure out the latest
“mystery plant.” In the morning, after I’ve had tea, the lure of my flora is
about as strong as the lure of a new comic book to a teenager. Can’t explain
it…. ◦◦◦◦◦ After breakfast, read and took a two hour nap. Being able to sleep
for two hours in the mid-morning is a good indicator of tiredness. But roused myself
after lunch and, not wanting to waste an entire July day, walked up the hill to
the south fork of Dinky Creek. Climbed to its source in a tiny cirque-let and on
up to the ridgetop overlooking Cora and Harriet Lakes. Continued, first time
ever, to Pt. 10700+ (the highpoint before reaching the pass between Tower and
Helen Lakes). Fabulous views…tired legs. Took photos for the first time in
ages. Found a new plant, a yellow composite, which looks to be an alpine Senecio. ◦◦◦◦◦ Headed home, feeling very
tired. Some token glissading (very poor). Followed a little brook then
contoured down and hit the meadow at its head. Another wonderful foray into the
wilds of “Piute Wilderness” (what I call that whole mountainside behind the
cabin.) ◦◦◦◦◦ Got home and found that one of the baby marmots (12” long, nose
to tail) had climbed into one of those 5 gallon plastic buckets on the porch
and was jailed therein, pacing in tight circles and chirping for mom. Shortly before
leaving the cabin I’d visited with the three youngsters who, every morning,
hang out at the little vent-hole—their front
porch. I sat very still and let the mosquitoes feast at will while the kids
popped in and out of the hole, too curious to stay under cover. Very very cute
to see all three of them, shoulder-to-shoulder, sniffing and gazing at me in
fascination from little more than an arm’s-length away. Hoping to get them used
to me and less cautious. ◦◦◦◦◦ Anyway, baby-in-a-bucket: carried the one pound
chirper to the vent-hole and dumped it out. Odd, that I should hope for some
sign of gratitude from a marmot. But, still, I hoped for something like the
rodent version of a wink, a nod, or a humble bow. A sign of thanks. After all,
I could’ve had marmot fricassee for supper instead. But they only want to get
away in a big hurry and don’t trust
you forever more. It ain’t like them Hollywood movies way out here in the wild
kingdom…. New moon tonight.
17 Jul (Wed) Really beat; time to take a day of genuine
R&R. I’ve traveled at least five miles a day for the last 14—covered 155
miles in that time. Feet hurt and back sore. Read books and napped much of the
day. Marmots on the porch and scurrying about under the floor. Glad to be in,
out of the bugs. They can really get to you after awhile…. ◦◦◦◦◦ In the
afternoon, walked out and finished putting up the back drift fence—a few wires
still down at the SW corner. Strolled out into the meadow. Windy and scudding
clouds. Worked on this log ‘til dark and bed early. I’ll be alive again
tomorrow.
18 Jul (Thu) Windy and cool today. Since I caught up in
this log last night (!!) I wrote a few short notes this morn to friends who
haven’t heard from me in ages. While I wrote with the lantern still on (before
sunrise in the cabin, which is about 7:30 these days) the marmots started
chirping under the floor as if in alarm. I went outside, gorgeous early crisp
light just below the cabin but the upper meadow in shadow, and one adult came
out the vent-hole after I’d whistled a bit. (Have discovered they come out sometimes
when I do my “cat whistle.”) It poked its head out and chirped at me—all
serious—while I stood there grinning, stifling the urge to laugh. I’m not gonna
start feeding ‘em but I would like it
if they didn’t run and hide every time I came out. The deer are less wary. It’s
already occurred to me that since I have no cats this year I have these
pet-surrogates to keep me company. I like it a lot, actually, having them
around.
[Almost a week later,
after four days off, rode back in to Piute.]
24 Jul (Wed) On the trail at noon, clouds building
already. Thunder before I got past Leavitt Meadows. ◦◦◦◦◦ Lovely ride in with
on’n’off sprinkles and lightning, just a perfect
sort of storm—enough to make everything smell good and settle the dust but not
enough to pour off my hat brim and down my neck. As I was going through Lower
Piute, coming up on a stretch of the river I heard a Hermit Thrush singing its
sweet song. Had thought I might not hear another this season. These fine storms
create a host of sensations and associations with their dramatic sounds and
lights and smells, all nostalgic and primal but at that moment the thrush’s
song was so beautiful that I concentrated on my perception of sound and temporarily
shut down eyes and nose, even though eyes remained open. This was made easier
by the long hours of riding, sitting still in the saddle. As I rode on the both
sounds increased in volume but the rushing water was winning out until,
finally, I could barely hear the song over the river or the sound of raindrops
hitting meadow grass. Then I could just
hear the thrush, barely, underneath the river song. Big drops slamming into my
hat brim and sliding soundlessly down Red’s neck. Rhythmic clop clop of horse
hooves in the sodden trail. It was like a motion picture in sound, the river
gaining prominence over the lyrical birdsong, raindrops and hooves beating the
background rhythm…all else was tuned out. I felt a poem rise up in me, which
started to write itself in my mind—first one that’s come to me in several
years. But it was raining, otherwise I would’ve stopped and jotted lines down
in my little notepad, and ten minutes later this was all long gone. I’d lost my
chance. These moments seldom appear and I was sorry to watch this one slip by
but at least I got to hear it just this once. ◦◦◦◦◦ Home, everything put away
and in dry clothes all cozy. Wrote in this log on the porch. The baby marmots
were coming and going, running right past me two feet away to head into their
hole. They’ve visibly grown since I left last week but one is now obviously
“the runt,” only about half the size of its siblings. I sure enjoy having them here
though I see they’ve deposited their little turds all over the porch in my
absence. (At least they don’t stink….)
25 Jul (Thu) Marmots all over the place! They move up onto
the porch while I’m away. They’re cute and all but this may get a little
tedious. There’s tiny little marmot pellets on the saddle racks, big
momma-turds all over the log by where I dump the dishwater (her lookout station…). And this
ain’t gonna get any better. ◦◦◦◦◦ Which reminds me: what we need here is a
predator or two. There’s several families
of marmots in the vicinity; never seen so many. But no redtail hawks this year.
Saw one fly over the meadow awhile
back but not nesting here as usual. That’s the main reason there’s still so
many baby marmotas. [Marmota is their
Latin name.] (Many noticeable differences this season in bird populations—no
kingfishers, no mallards in Upper Piute at all. What’s goin’ on?) ◦◦◦◦◦ Took my
first real bath of the year out on the gravel bar, first “full immersion” at
least. The river has finally slowed down enough that it can warm up a little.
Not exactly warm, but tolerable and
it fixed me right up. I was really flagging.
27 Jul (Sat) Out on the porch while a light rain fell
soundlessly, horses grazing right over there. As I’m writing this (in the
present for a change…) one of the young marmots jogged up to the porch with a
ridiculous mouthful of elk sedge protruding from either side of its mouth and
the critter stopped—a scant yard from my left foot—to stand up on hind legs and
look me over intently while sniffing the air for more info. They’ve begun to accept
my presence a bit more. Times like this, I’m tempted to start feeding them, get
the little fuzzies to where they’re eatin’ outa my hand. But, no…that would be
UNPROFESSIONAL!
28 Jul (Sun) Every morning, just before sun hits the cabin,
there’s a rank commotion under the floor—scrapings, thumps, sound of sand cast
against plywood…a few chirps. It’s taken me awhile—duh!—to figure out that the children are having their morning constitutionals
in the form of rodent-wrestling. They don’t go outside ‘til after sun-up and
are back through their hole every eve well before dark. The one with the grass
moustache I saw last night was heading home with a bedtime snack. Just now, muggy Sunday eve,
one of the kids is rustling around in the stack of lodgepole [firewood] rounds
beyond the saddle racks, five feet away. I turned and plainly saw it pawing at
a dangling leather tie-strap. Marmots
are notorious chewers-of-leather (going for the salty horse-sweat residue…) and
I had a brief instant of panic—THAT LITTLE
RASCAL IS CHEWIN’ ON MY SADDLE!!—followed as quickly by remembering that these
marmots have a king’s ransom of salt in their yard. So I continued watching,
stock-still. And it became apparent that marmota junior was just playing, as any
kitten will, with a dangling string. It pawed and batted, pulled it in for
quick nibble, continued to play until maybe too self-conscious from my staring.
I’m so grateful for this chance to
watch an animal I really have ignored and am ignorant of. Today’s lesson: all children play.
©
2016 by Tim Forsell 15 Apr 2016
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