The Coleman lantern above my head is swinging from the ridge pole. Colton just hit his head on it…again. I can relate; I’ve hit it countess times despite the fact that we all know it’s there. It is hung judiciously right above the camp stove and folding tables and you are bound to hit it more than once. I'm sitting in the shade of the cook …
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On Those Happy Trails
In the shimmering noonday heat, we made our way up across the broad sagebrush monotype. Viewed through my sweat blinded eyes, it appeared as though we were bound for nowhere in particular; hill after hill marched ever slightly upward toward the distant Bitterroot Mountains, until they finally gave in to the abrupt uplift, festooned with dark green …
Bees, Blossoms and Beauty
“Check out the giant bumblebees,” Caryl said as she walked slowly through the riotous display of wildflowers. She had come with me on this trip to check water on the range, and as is typical, she was wandering around looking at plants. The wildflowers are amazing this year, with hills painted in reds (from Indian paint brush), pale yellow (from …
The Range of Why
“Hey! Could somebody let me out?” Linnaea could barely make out the muffled words, but she immediately obliged. It was Nathan, the Alderspring cowhand crew member who just finished his Bachelor’s degree in range science at the University of Idaho. He had spent the night under a heavy tarp with horse gear and camp supplies, cocooned from any further …
Beauty from Ashes
In the late afternoon of August 8, 2018, hot gusty winds lifted off the sunbaked deserts of the Snake River Plain, 122 miles to the south of Alderspring and our summer grazing country of the wild and remote Hat Creek Ranges. The oven dry winds blew up our valley and fanned a late afternoon firestorm on the already unstoppably ravenous Rabbit …
How Cows Can Save the Planet
Dear Friends and Partners As I look out my office window, dawn creeps into the valley for yet another grayish day. There is an undulating cloud ceiling above the ranch, and the mountain summits are lost in the mist. This is the day that the beeves leave the ranch for the high Hat Creek ranges. We will herd them horseback, down the valley, along …
The Range of Hope
In the gathering darkness of last night, I looked over to the bunkhouse. Wood smoke curled from the stovepipe. It had been raining and blowing williwaw winds as the Alderspring crew worked in the meadows on fences and irrigation all afternoon, and we didn’t get in from the wet meadows until nearly eight o’clock. The combination of damp clothes and …
Painting the Prairie
Dear Friends and Partners. Lincoln, Montana. The west is defined by rivers; the ancient paths of Native Americans followed them as do many of our roads. Hamlets and towns like Lincoln now punctuate the cursive penmanship of river meanders. I’ve been following the serpentine flow of the Blackfoot River threading the middle of Montana. It braids …