tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3184101106033216772024-02-20T13:25:54.304-08:00A Natural History of My FatherThe Writings of Louis Franklin JonasMarqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-47003924742216723072014-04-06T07:07:00.000-07:002014-04-06T07:07:24.233-07:00A (unfinished) Letter to the Family<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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4 Nov, 1980</div>
Hi, Cherie and Kids:<br />
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Another form letter to bring you up to date on what this maverick's been doing, and how healthy he is at present. I was making great strides toward my normally good health, walking about three miles at a stretch, occasionally, without strain. Then I decided to try the Mesa Trail here, which runs generally along, or among, the Flatirons, those great sandstone slabs, standing on end, which are quite well named. It is a mountain trail, of course, with a fair degree of steepness in many spots, and some large steps of stone, which required a lot of assistance from my shoulder and back muscles, along with a cane, to surmount them. My nephew Jack (Lucile's son) has really been a great help to my moral and health. He sponsored me as a Shaklee dealer, which is company is probably the leader in good vitamin and mineral supplements, so I've had really good nutrition. Then his upbeat, determinedly optimistic personality has helped me to toughen up, and fight my ailments, instead of meekly accepting them, and thereby getting progressively more disabled. The lack of a paycheck for ages (it seems like from another life; it has been about five months) has been somewhat of nuisance, also. I should get my first check from Social Security this month sometime, for Disability.</div>
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The weather has been quite mild, this week it has been up to 70° F., or higher, most days. Getting windy now, though, and about time for a heavy snow. Jack (nephew) says he can fly me to I. F. The church we go to said they can come up with money for the plane fare. Can somebody pick us up at the I. F. airport? And maybe check the Shelley motels, to see if there will be openings? You'll all be impressed with Jack; he's quite a guy.</div>
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You know, if I can handle all the pain I've had, and still having, and come out of this in a good shape, I'll consider it the greatest accomplishment of my life. And the feeling of being imprisoned, in a weak, ailing body. Maybe you can give me a call, preferably about 8:30 or 9:00 pm, let me know how things are. I'm not sure just when we can make it. I'd like to stay about three days, to make sure the kids know how to take care of the guns, and will handle them safely. And to get enough memories of you all, to carry me through another year. I'm not sure where I'll be, or what I'll be doing, after I get back in shape. </div>
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Fran and I have gone to Transactional Analysis groups to get in touch with our inner problems and desires, and we've found there is quite a difference in our life styles, so we might have to get a friendly divorce, to give each other the chance to attain our personal goals.</div>
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I'm not sure yet <i>what </i>my goals will be; I've been concentrating more on regaining good, physical condition; I can't do much till I do. Jack and I might go into business together; he's doing quite well with Shaklee; it would be handy, to have a few hundred a month coming in from that.</div>
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Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-55107735650245154182014-04-06T07:02:00.000-07:002014-04-06T07:02:56.508-07:00"Where Falls the Blame?"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It must be observed that the human race</div>
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Has developed a method for saving face.</div>
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When a human being makes an error,</div>
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His monster ego is beset with terror.</div>
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He turns around, and what does he do</div>
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But blame that horrendous mistake on you.</div>
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You, of course, have a reputation,</div>
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And will not brook the implication.</div>
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You deny the accusal vehemently,</div>
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And turn the blame inclemently.</div>
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Finding a fall-guy, you throw the muck</div>
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And rest content, having passed the buck.</div>
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But really, why fret who has the blame?</div>
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The error's still there, all the same.</div>
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We should be concerned with just the correcting,</div>
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And leave wholly off with all the suspecting.</div>
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Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-10843313950729629522014-04-06T07:00:00.000-07:002020-06-21T17:10:59.268-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitSa-MjaY6wtCTUVWoff7lKX6JzqaucpLjnRpMqvjwtDRU7V7FYdO5DPCNR_pkpmlFeljljsjN81Po8aqr2GwnNX405_2aIA19-HVBbCaOn1ezFuAojHjECRM00q10fXHhy_ONXH3W1I0/s1600/little+mami+and+grandpa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitSa-MjaY6wtCTUVWoff7lKX6JzqaucpLjnRpMqvjwtDRU7V7FYdO5DPCNR_pkpmlFeljljsjN81Po8aqr2GwnNX405_2aIA19-HVBbCaOn1ezFuAojHjECRM00q10fXHhy_ONXH3W1I0/s1600/little+mami+and+grandpa.jpg" width="612" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy and me in 1978 (or thereabouts)</td></tr>
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Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-11097892559533698862013-03-07T11:41:00.004-08:002013-03-07T11:41:51.790-08:00"The Tom-Cat's Tale"<div style="text-align: center;">
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<i><b>"The Tom-Cat's Tale"</b></i></div>
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Where th' pussy cat preens, and pats her fur,</div>
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Or, from some high fence-top cusses a cur,</div>
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When darkness falls, I'm a yowlin' to her-</div>
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Fer I'm a tough an' ornery brute,</div>
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But I reckon I'll die with my head in a boot.</div>
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In a garbage ca I c'n find a meal</div>
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That's high in smell, and high in appeal,</div>
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An' I'll catch me a rat if he dares to squeal-</div>
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Fer I'm a tough an' ornery brute,</div>
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But I reckon I'll die with my head in a boot.</div>
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From an outpost high, with a watchful eye,</div>
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I wait in a manner relaxed, but sly,</div>
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Fer a careless hound t' mosey by,</div>
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Fer I'm a tough an' ornery brute,</div>
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But I reckon I'll die with my head in a boot.</div>
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He lived his carefree, swagg'rin life, </div>
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An' lingered not with a lovin' wife,</div>
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'Til th' City Pound put an end to th' strife.</div>
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Fer he WUZ a tough an' ornery brute;</div>
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And as predicted, he died with his head in a boot.</div>
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~Louis Jonas </div>
Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-14349984011404150692012-07-30T08:34:00.000-07:002012-07-30T08:34:31.872-07:00What it Takes to Be a SuccessFirst, what does "success" mean to you? My definition of the word is, "Accomplishing what you really want to do." So I have been a success in many ways, though I've never gone quite as far as I would have liked. I wanted to play the guitar and sing well. I wanted to be one of the best with guns, bow, lariat, canoe, horse-back riding, tracking game, writing poetry and prose, writing a fresh book on philosophy and several other things. Some of these I did quite well; others I intend to do yet....<br />
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How does one achieve success? My belief on this is: "USE YOUR POTENTIAL TO THE FULLEST EXTENT" When I look at the multitude of failures (<i>most</i> of the human race), I see that they loafed; they might have graduated from high school or college, then got a job which they could understand and hold down to the boss' satisfaction, then stopped trying to become better; to advance in knowledge and skills; they were satisfied to come home after work, drink their two or three martinis or beers, and sink into an easy chair to watch TV till bedtime. Then they take a sleeping potion, to counteract the lack of physical exercise. In the morning, coffee, tea or pep pills get them awake again, and they go through the same routine as they did the say before. The only chance for them to make much real future progress is to get fired or laid off. <br />
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So there isn't much competition. Psychologists generally agree that most of us use about 10% of our potential. And research and experiments have indicated that, like the muscles of our body, the more we use our brain, the thicker the cortex (Gray-matter covering of our brains) becomes. So the more you think, the easier it becomes. It's like any other work (or effort); the more you do it, the more you are apt to become accustomed to it, and even get to where you like it. I get restless, bored, and irritated, when there are no challenges in my life, so if one challenge doesn't fall into place in the natural course of events, I go looking for something I'm interested in, and try to become more adept to it.<br />
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And "success" doesn't necessarily mean I got first place in some competition; I compete with <i>myself </i>mostly. I like to conquer my fears and laziness and bad habits. I like to get closer to God. It's exhilarating to reach for extra intelligences or courage, or physical strength, and find it. <br />
<br />Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-87520275139418702872012-07-30T08:28:00.002-07:002012-07-30T08:28:54.624-07:00Ruby-Crowned Kinglet. . .Partial Article<i>(Ed. note: some paragraphs of this nice little article are missing, but the words that are left are worth savoring.)</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEietdZ1LK-CX6gMdJYylXMUcYq1b5crhpyhyphenhyphenREctzMKBzuUEtqZKa6_rJIAbVtIcpcRhrRBMEyG1vk6Xxp7sAUPVVXNgmKUMNIi-XcLYIWLFNvxKn3bsGBk63hnRC_xfPe1BJwwY6bV26M/s1600/Ruby+crowend2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEietdZ1LK-CX6gMdJYylXMUcYq1b5crhpyhyphenhyphenREctzMKBzuUEtqZKa6_rJIAbVtIcpcRhrRBMEyG1vk6Xxp7sAUPVVXNgmKUMNIi-XcLYIWLFNvxKn3bsGBk63hnRC_xfPe1BJwwY6bV26M/s320/Ruby+crowend2.jpg" width="270" /></a></div>
. . .Memories of hillsides covered with yellow glacier lilies. Helvella mushrooms growing by the peck near old logging areas, and chucks sunning themselves on a warm rock, come flooding into the observers mind.<br />
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When he spies the tiny songster which gives such a pleasing vocal performance, and watches until the kinglet turns in the right direction so the sun shines on the bright flash patch on the crown of his head, the watcher marvels anew at the brilliance of the "ruby."<br />
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For the outdoorsman, spring is officially here. This pleasing little busy-body adds much to a walk in the woods. The stream fisherman who has time to notice such woods dwellers, the fisherman whose one and only reason for being on a mountain stream is to be able to brag, "Oh, sure, I got my limit," is a poorer man than he needs to be.<br />
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Until an observer becomes acquainted with the ruby-crown, he may find it hard to identify, since it is only at a certain angle that the flash patch shows plainly. The best recognition marks are the small size and short tail, and the conspicuous whitish eye ring. He also has a chattering call note very much like the scolding of a house wren. . .Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-76142142535902009952012-01-21T11:07:00.000-08:002012-01-21T11:11:52.997-08:00A Tribute From a Friend<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(Ed. note: This post is not written by Lou, but by a friend of the family. It is from a book of memoirs entitled "A Thin Slice of Sky." The author is Thomas L. Burnett) </i></span><br />
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He was part Jeremiah Johnson, part Audubon, and part soldier of fortune. Lou rented the old cabin while we spent two years in Whitewater. He holed up with his books, guns, letters, and botany collections to outlast the winters.<br />
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Bundles of dried peppermint hung from his ceiling. A burlap bag of venison jerky slumped against one of the support posts, like a laborer on siesta. The cabin was dark and warm. His bed had no pillow. "Bad for your back and neck", he asserted. He stretched and tacked animal pelts to the outside of the cabin. Crammed into the north wall, serving as cheap insulation, were envelopes from women around the world.<br />
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Dad admired Lou for living life so easily. Dad coveted his powers of observation. Lou saw the natural world acutely. Ever ready, a botanist's magnifying glass hung around his neck. He frequently flicked it open to examine rocks or plant parts.I was entranced by his jolly yodeling and tricky whistling.<br />
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Lou's mountain prowess was legendary, at least in our family. He was a real live hero, stamped from the mold of Pecos Mill and Daniel Boone. One day he squinted and gestured southwards to the bony ridge. "Biggest buck I ever saw lives up there." he said. "I was sitting up there quietly one day, when down below me what looked like a cherry tree started to move. That was no tree, that was his antlers. Never saw him when I had a gun."<br />
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In all my figure hunting, I kept a lookout for this monster, believing all the time that a mule deer pf such grandeur could really exist.<br />
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He told of meeting a bear face-to-face coming around a corner of a trail. He was alarmed but determined not to show it. "I just growled at him", he said.<br />
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The bear decided he had met his match. Ursus turned and padded away. Even now, when I hike quietly on paths paved with moist leaves, I imagine meeting a bear and wonder if my courage would ever match Lou's. <br />
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A walk with Lou was an education in ecology; he knew and told how plants, soil and climate fit together. He named the conifers, grasses, dicots and ferns. He explained the mutual lechery of algae and fungus within lichen. Stopping at a swiped anthill, a black mudhole, or a rotten log that had been ripped open, he estimated how much time had elapsed since the bear had visited. He spotted a tuft of cinnamon-bear hair on a barb or fence wire. No one else was as observant.<br />
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"This is what the ruffed grouse eats in the winter."<br />
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"A porcupine likes aspen--one's almost girdled this sapling."<br />
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"A bull elk has used this tree to scrape the velvet off his antlers."<br />
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He was a walking plant identification guide, a lecturer without a podium. Though he never attained his doctorate, due to personality clashes, he said, no professor stirred my interest in nature the way Lou did.<br />
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He suggested we gather Morel mushrooms one summer evening. It had been raining for two days. We walked through O'Connell's place, across an aged logging bridge and into a young stand of lodgepole pine. On the forest floor was a buildup of needles, springy under foot. Two or three times each year we'd make this fifteen minute hike and harvest a couple of pounds, to be sauteed with dear stakes or scrambled into eggs and bacon.<br />
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Like a playground drug pusher, Lou got my father hooked on puffballs. Compared toe Morels, one could really make some volume with puffballs as they grew to the size of grapefruit or cantaloupe. Dad would spot these freebies in the pastures of the Church Farm and bring them home, like a Viking proudly bearing his plunder from the Anglo-Saxons. Slabbed and fried in butter, their tofu-like flesh was supposedly edible, though I don't think the kids ever found out. Even mother, who normally loved any food that was free, was lukewarm about puffballs. Perhaps Dad ate them just to be macho--not to be outdone by Lou.<br />
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My own male ego was also exploited once when, with Lou we were hunting atop the Bald Mountain. We had shot a young buck and had dressed it out. Being the inordinate distance from one mile from the house, we though it best if we took some nourishment before attempting the return.<br />
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Eight inches of old snow patchily covered the ground. Near a big fir tree, where there was no snow, we built a small fire. Lou divided the liver into three pieces. We roasted them on sticks, as if roasting marshmallows. Camp Robbers hung close by in the trees. When the meat was black on the outside, we tried to eat it. It was rare inside. Lou ate his; Dad ate some of his. I tried, but after a few feeble attempts, the men said I didn't have to eat any more if I didn't want to. The troops of Napoleon retreating from Moscow didn't have it any tougher.<br />
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Another foolishness Lou forced upon my father was bathing in the creek. A thick growth of willows offered privacy from the country road. Bathing here was not a leisurely affair, even for hardy Lou. Ninety seconds usually sufficed. The procedure was as follows; yell; soap very lightly ; yell; rinse; yell; dry off. Actually, yelling was fairly uniform throughout. I tried it once as a teenager. A bath in 29 degree water sounds like a manly challenge. It sounds invigorating until you are naked and standing with one foot on a sharp rock, the other on a mossy, slippery one. The air temperature had dropped from it's afternoon high of 89 degrees to 59, and the only mosquito in 300 yards is biting the back of your thigh. At that moment, being a mountain man like Lou loses it's appeal.Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-37791139190685903742010-05-27T11:20:00.000-07:002010-05-27T12:07:12.746-07:00Our Favorite Weeds, by Lou Jonas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU9NRyXQbdjlj2QM99jPJ9ZnUj5_Xa18wI7txyV6ZbMSiSkNm9m5nfKydgPIWMS08XU7AnThsuq2FqXYYtZ-XyvDSQrb1FH5za1G9uqo94fQ_jutA6OgVf5i0ESJz-LEOTX4Mi5LQ-NNs/s1600/18May+012.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU9NRyXQbdjlj2QM99jPJ9ZnUj5_Xa18wI7txyV6ZbMSiSkNm9m5nfKydgPIWMS08XU7AnThsuq2FqXYYtZ-XyvDSQrb1FH5za1G9uqo94fQ_jutA6OgVf5i0ESJz-LEOTX4Mi5LQ-NNs/s400/18May+012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476024479584519474" border="0" /></a><br />" A weed is a plant nobody has found a use for''. If that statement is true then there are very few weeds in the world. Many of those which the average gardener spends lots of time and money to get rid of, are regarded as favorite vegetables in other countries.<br /><br />Salsify, if noticed at all by the average person, is called a dandelion with an especially strong stalk. Those hardy pioneer-type gardeners who like something new occasionally and have tried "oyster-plant" as the seed companies call salsify, realize that it is very worth-while to include this "weed" in the garden every year.<br /><br />Chicory, of course, has been a favored plant in France for centuries, and the highly expensive witloof is a is a bunch of bleached chicory leaves. Chicory is mixed with coffee in Louisiana, and many people don't like coffee without it. It should be much more healthful than pure coffee.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">~Chicory</span>~<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGsTy04xaQTziOMaT5opxqAGkoJ_x081O_yOFtC5HV4AXO-F9cF_tVF2TxAN-s9errZQYcHZL1qc4bShcvo0g5jyfyh5qJz3kOqlMpVZfMYW-nx1uxbxpejiplIwbrd2z7vGPDhmMXSUg/s1600/chicory.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGsTy04xaQTziOMaT5opxqAGkoJ_x081O_yOFtC5HV4AXO-F9cF_tVF2TxAN-s9errZQYcHZL1qc4bShcvo0g5jyfyh5qJz3kOqlMpVZfMYW-nx1uxbxpejiplIwbrd2z7vGPDhmMXSUg/s400/chicory.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476027305473198850" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Purslane is a favorite garden vegetable in Europe, and is used in salads and for potherbs. With its rather bland taste, it is much better mixed with something like radishes or cress.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">~Purslane~<br /><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje3nPIwmGwNPRBWf69YJmR6HQXVw4RKaAqxDaEV4pqwkJ_PG418At9HV-9ArjBzdGG-qu5vEAd2y_Z-IdPJPsnXsQBIcD2aBxveThLoqFpsdU4QraDUIbQuX_FxphHX-xerqD_Zfr_h1M/s1600/purslane.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 322px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje3nPIwmGwNPRBWf69YJmR6HQXVw4RKaAqxDaEV4pqwkJ_PG418At9HV-9ArjBzdGG-qu5vEAd2y_Z-IdPJPsnXsQBIcD2aBxveThLoqFpsdU4QraDUIbQuX_FxphHX-xerqD_Zfr_h1M/s400/purslane.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476028236257207458" border="0" /></a><br />Burdock is a much-esteemed garden vegetable in Asia, and seed can be bought from some seed companies in the U.S. The young, tender leaves, if boiled in two waters, are good spring greens. The young stems can be peeled and boiled, tasting much like asparagus. The roots of the first-year plants can also be boiled, then skin peeled, and served hot with butter. The root is claimed to have power to cure baldness, but we suspect that, even if it works in some caes, there would be many it would not help.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">~Burdock</span>~<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizQHO4dCP306XUR6CT6cLYWlXdwu827XDu0HVL5bTIuGm_ymn-W0il5p1k1lzxoBWXum5mFnY_n4txDPPfFvlPbX2Xtegp7l8q__gKUs82RhFEZEFWxE-xr6Pa9jlPAss18-13zW84QZE/s1600/burdock.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 363px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizQHO4dCP306XUR6CT6cLYWlXdwu827XDu0HVL5bTIuGm_ymn-W0il5p1k1lzxoBWXum5mFnY_n4txDPPfFvlPbX2Xtegp7l8q__gKUs82RhFEZEFWxE-xr6Pa9jlPAss18-13zW84QZE/s400/burdock.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476027313941372482" border="0" /></a><br /><br />In soils with a hardpan, heavy clay or silt, not many plants have the power to penetrate to the lower layers, where soil nutrients are usually in better supply. The weed roots find small cracks, or push their way through by brute force, and bring up nutrients from where many crop roots can't reach. When the plant is decomposed, as in their use for green manure, the top soil becomes much more fertile. Furthermore, the channels opened up by the weed roots can be followed by crop roots, and also by earthworms. Earthworms are perhaps the most important single factor in the formation of good soil structure, and in changing raw organic matter to humus.<br /><br />One author says that weeds accumulate those nutrients in which a particular soil is deficient. For example, weeds of acid soil like sheep sorrel and ribwort, are rich in calcium and magnesium. When the weeds decompose, and the nutrients become available for crops to use.<br /><br />Any plant which is easy to raise, can be depended upon to raise a good crop every year, and which is tasty, can be sure of a welcome in my garden.<br /><br />For instance, pokeweed, one of the tastiest plants, and one which is good to mix with more bland greens, seems to thrive as well in a garden as along a fencerow. It is one of the best for raising a good supply of succulent sprouts in the basement in the winter. It was used in pioneer days for ink, and Euell Gibbons reported having read a letter written during the Civil War with poke juice ink, which was still perfectly legible. He states that an analysis, comparing raw with cooked poke, showed that Vitamin C, and other nutrients, are not lost during the boiling for 10 minutes, and the subsequent draining; that is, not lost to a significant event.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">~Poke~<br /><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqTcHRZcx3sz9OawQqqWL54ySDqWytEBhtAnc9h6SBhOYpu3YTM1o5ZtCxrUcaqxv6UzB7nJtSgSJjnSYOQ1q_20rNnI4LQrS9dkFQSggR4HgAB2NU_-gE_bGgNtZwsY6g-lFqwLwwTF4/s1600/poke.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 326px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqTcHRZcx3sz9OawQqqWL54ySDqWytEBhtAnc9h6SBhOYpu3YTM1o5ZtCxrUcaqxv6UzB7nJtSgSJjnSYOQ1q_20rNnI4LQrS9dkFQSggR4HgAB2NU_-gE_bGgNtZwsY6g-lFqwLwwTF4/s400/poke.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476027319583710466" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Since it makes sense to me, to save labor and costs in whatever I do, I'm not inclined to pull those good, useful vegetables like dandelions, pokeweed, pigweed, lambs' quarters, ribwort, and purslane. I just mulch them along with the other vegetables, how around them when I hoe (which is seldom), and make good use of every one of them.Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-8918080448960796162010-04-07T17:35:00.000-07:002010-04-08T09:04:30.832-07:00"Lengthening the Harvest Season"<div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;">(Ed. note~ Unfortunately the last page of this article is missing)<br /></div><br />If I accidentally get to Heaven one day, I'm sure I'll be able to garden all year long. But none of the places in which I've lived, so far, have quite have had quite that long a growing season. So, since organic gardeners are supposed to be smarter and more independent than ordinary gardeners, I try to figure how to make the best of what we have (And actually, I like some snow and freezing weather in winter.).<br /><br />Here near Idaho Falls, the winters are frigid enough to send many transplanted southerners and Californians home after one exposure. But I found I can carry many crops through the winter in good condition, even in the soil. With one decimeter (approximately four inches) of mulch (preferably of sawdust, so mice won't feel too welcome) I've harvested beets, carrots, Jerusalem artichokes, turnips, even red and potatoes! Two decimeters is better for potatoes; they don't get so sweet that way. Oak leaf lettuce, spinach, and chard wintered well under sawdust, and provided the earliest possible green vegetables. And kale! This year I've seen two gardens, including ours, where kale survived a winter which was consistently cold (only one several-day thaw in January, and below 20F, frequently, with very little or no snow to keep the soil from freezing deeply) and still looks green and fresh, and is producing some very tasty and pest-free bunches of young leaves the last of March. I'm sure it would winter better under a light mulch. So I'll use sawdust on it next winter, then wash it off about March 25, and expect some delicious early salad. And I'll tie a yellow ribbon around the two most vigorous and tastiest plants, and let them go to seed.<br /><br />Mulching takes work, but the benefits are many. What satisfaction to eat the tastiest possible vegetables, when others have to patronize the "stupor" markets. Even though we store some crops in the basement, they simply don't hold their flavor like those in the good earth. I suspect there is some connection between the actinomycetes, fungi, bacteria, organic matter, and other ingredients of good soil, and good keeping qualities and taste.<br /><br />Plus it's good to know the vegetables aren't as risky to eat as those with various biocides on and in them. I once bought a pack of carrots which tasted so much like DDT I threw them away, and haven't bought store carrots since. Having lived in Arkansas when plants were spraying cotton fields, homes, highways, livestock, and people heavily; and having worked for a veterinarian there who used DDT by the handful in his dog pens, I know what DDT tastes like. Research by the California Fish and Game Department showed that carrots and other drops do take up insecticides, and concentrate them.<br /><br />The mulch can be spade under in the spring, if you have good organic soil, or raked off to let the soil warm early, then used again during the summer.<br /><br />Some crops survive without a mulch; like chives, garlic, cornfield cress, burdock, comfrey, parsnips, horseradish, and parsley. But if you want to dig root crops throughout the winter, without resorting to dynamite, it's wise to cover some of your plants.Otherwise, the ground may be frozen down one or two decimeters when you need them. We use stakes protruding three decimeters or more above the soil surface, so we can locate the rows under whatever snow there may be.<br /><br />Location has a lot to do with length of growing season. In mountains, or even in foothills, it pays to determine which area experiences the lightest, and the fewest, frosts. You'll find frost pockets in low spots, whereas up slope, or near a small canyon, the more rapidly-moving air currents may make a difference of two or three weeks in the frost-free season. And you'll length the season for such crops as Jerusalem artichokes by planting some in the sunniest, earliest-warmed part of the garden, so it will start growing sooner. But- put some in the shadiest, coolest spot also. Mulch them both heavily in late fall, and those in the cooler spot will be about two weeks later to sprout in the spring. After they are actively growing, I've never found tubers till autumn.<br /><br />Companion planting makes a difference, too. By planting pokeweed and Van Buren or Beta grapes just under the dripline of elm or apple trees (because these trees hold their leaves longer than such as birch or box elder), you increase their chances of surviving early and late frosts. However, since elm trees are tough competitors with the roots of domestic grapes, you may want to dig till your energy gives out (and hope you got to three feet at least), so you can put a sheet metal barrier between the roots of the two plants. Or if you have soft soil and lots of energy, you can cut both ends from a clean steel drum, and plant the grape or pokeweed inside it.<br /><br />Borage in the everbearing strawberry patch leads to a larger crop, larger berries, and probably a two-week longer bearing season; perhaps for more reasons than just frost protection. Maybe borage just likes strawberries!<br /><br />Experienced gardeners learn which crops are best-suited for their area. Apples, hardy apricots, some plums, and pie cherries are most dependable for fruit trees here, but if I . . .<span style="font-style: italic;"> (Ed. note- the rest of this article is missing)</span>.Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-26335494685019834902010-03-29T10:10:00.000-07:002010-03-29T10:39:55.961-07:00The Tale of a Cat<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6BxkmvkPn7zsJOeUd3SesV8uVAN_xHgYDEVWQWw1Dxm1HJkFKm17E5ETLzv0_hraRfvJBm5YMj-i7YgydPUYOfShWAYtIumWvvc_g7akaXhRKUbkBVCMxCPwGcugsImJJy0Jux4n7YOE/s1600/bobcat.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 321px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6BxkmvkPn7zsJOeUd3SesV8uVAN_xHgYDEVWQWw1Dxm1HJkFKm17E5ETLzv0_hraRfvJBm5YMj-i7YgydPUYOfShWAYtIumWvvc_g7akaXhRKUbkBVCMxCPwGcugsImJJy0Jux4n7YOE/s400/bobcat.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454111780211330866" border="0" /></a><br />Lou Jonas<br />Bozeman, Mont.<br /><br />In my Lone-Mountain days, in Montana, a neighbor rad the long-range weather prediction for the coming winter, and decided to spend it in Arizona. He asked me to look after his pet wildcat while he was gone. I promised to do so, thinking it would be very little trouble, and would let me get better-acquainted with wildcats, whose tracks I often saw in the timber, but seldom caught a glimpse of.<br /><br />So I let the cat in the cabin once in a while to relieve her boredom, and give me a chance to psychoanalyze her. She proved to be an entertaining and friendly pet. I spent many pleasant hours relaxing, by watching Sheena prowl around the cabin and investigate every piece of furniture, every corner and "hidey-hole".<br /><br />One night I felt lazy at bedtime, I left Sheena sleeping on the rug when I turned in, instead of returning her to her cage, as usual. That would have been all right if she had continued to sleep on the rug, or anywhere else, for that matter. To Sheena, night time was playtime. I was almost asleep when I sensed something whipping past my scalp. Then a set of sharp claws combed through my hair just a little too deeply for me to sleep well. That's the only night I ever slept with a blanket over my head, indoors.<br /><br />Once she jumped up on my lap. The reason she got a chance to do this was that I was reading, and hadn't observed her intentions. I regarded her with a wary look, trying to fathom just what she was up to, but it's hard to brush twenty pounds of wildcat off your lap, since they have such an effective means of anchoring that they are almost irresistible, so I let her stay.<br /><br />She always liked to soften cushion with her front paws before lying down. She did the same thing to my leg muscles, and I've yet to figure out how a soft cat paw can be so bruisingly hard.<br /><br />The she eyed my long beard, with her head cocked first to one side, and then to the other. She must have liked it, because she smiled softly, and brushed her head against it in a loving soft of way. She patted it a little, but her claws were only partly extended, so there was very little bleeding.<br /><br />She laid her head alongside mine and purred, and her beautiful white teeth closed gently over the lower part of my ear. I did some rapid calculating, trying to figure how I could disguise the loss of half an ear, in case she decided she liked the flavor. The suspense finally got to me after a long moment, and I gripped the nape of her neck, figuring I should at least try to save <span style="font-style: italic;">part</span> of my face. She relaxed immediately, retracted her claws, and went limp. If you ever need to wrestle a tiger or lion, perhaps you should try this same hold.<br /><br />I described her as gentle, with a sweet disposition. Well, she was, but remember, men, how entrancing it is to be dining with a charming, soft-voiced, liquid-eyed young lady? Imagine being out with on like that who turned into a werewolf when the waiter put a rare steak on the table! And envision her ears flattening back against her head, and her pupils narrowing, and a threatening snarl issuing from her lips. This is about the way that I was affected the first time she complained of being hungry, and I handed her a venison rib. Fortunately, she was smaller than I, and not rash enough to attack a hermit who snarled some himself, upon occasion (Maybe she just didn't like venison ribs). Should I have offered her tenderloin?<br /><br />Sheena wasn't fond of dogs. Once a lost Australian shepherd came to the cabin, and poor, half-starved beast hung around for a day or so, absorbing all the grub I could rustle for him. When Sheena came near the cabin while I was feeding him, she must have become jealous, because she suddenly spit, growled and jumped all at the same time, giving the dog a solid thump in the ribs with her forepaws. The dog gave a roaring bark, apparently warning her that if she wanted trouble, that was the best way in the world to get a bellyful of it. He didn't deign to look straight at her, but continued to concentrate on making friends with me (My respect for Australian shepherds zoomed to new heights. The Aussies I had known previously had been quite timid.).<br /><br />Once Sheena got loose and strayed away from home. Being domesticated, she wasn't adept at catching food for herself, and I was worried about her welfare. Next morning a neighbor half a mile away called and reported that the cat had been on his back porch. I pocketed a chunk of venison and rushed to his place. I was trailing her through the timber and talking, telling her how beautiful she was, when she recognized my voice and came running, delighted to see me, and relieved to be with her good friend again, and especially interested in the venison. Getting her home was a problem. I was skeptical about the wisdom of carrying her, so I decided to let her walk, and try to coax her along with me. We passed a neighbor's house, where the Weimaraner dog barked, and Sheena delivered a hearty wallop to my leg with both forefeet. This was probably an effort to get me to climb a tree, or to run, so we could escape what she considered our common enemy. Or she could have been rattled, and hit the closest animal she could find.<br /><br />In late March, Sheena became restless, as though she had an important engagement somewhere. She escaped from her cage one night. I trailer her over the melting snow for a half mile, and then lost the trail. Since she had been traveling in a quite straight line, she must have been primed for some far traveling, with a more compatible friend driving her onward. There were plenty of mice that winter, so she had a fine chance to learn to hunt, before she starved, and I evidently had less appeal than a male bobcat.<br /><br />I don't know if our paths ever crossed again, but when I see a medium-sized cat track in the timber, I can't help but wonder if Sheena was fortunate enough to escape hounds and hunters, and if perhaps she dimly remembers a human who was once a trusted friend.<br /><br />Does she ever watch me as I pass by the spot where she crouches, almost completely invisible behind a small fallen limb? Does she ever have an impulse to come running up to me, only to be held back by some ancient fear?<br /><br />Sheena was a good pet, but <span style="font-style: italic;">wild</span>, and how else should a wildcat be?Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-31262447864640650272010-03-25T10:25:00.000-07:002010-03-25T10:40:46.696-07:00Newsletter-From Virginia ,1969<div style="text-align: left;">Broad Run, Virginia<br />4 Jan, 1969<br /><br />Howdy,<br /><br />We have a crowded schedule, as usual, so will try to write four letters at a time; perhaps that way we can write to all our friends.<br /><br />The job is interesting; it is nice to get paid for doing what I used to do for fun. We are making a complete inventory of the natural areas of the U.S. and its trust territories, and helping to establish criteria for a "natural area" which we hope will be acceptable to all ecologists. We are also making a list of the research which has been, and is being done on natural areas. We will establish a system for storage and retrieval of data, sometime soon.<br /><br />I have a very good boss; Gene Wallen, a real go-getter, with a background in oceanography. The other scientists in the department are first raters, also; Helmut Buechner, Lee Talbot, Ray Fosberg, to name some. Lee Talbot is now in India, working on the Gir Forest, and in Ceylon afterwards. I get out in the field often, and really admire these hardwood forests. There are quite a few species of oaks, and red maple and and pignut hickory are common. There are also several species of pine, including the Table Mountain Pine, which is not very widely distributed. It was interesting to see witch hazel blooming this fall, and interesting to see the many species of ferns. We flush wild turkey occasionally, and bob white quail, white tail deer, cottontails, and gray squirrels are common. the mockingbirds, cardinals, bluejays, and titmice stay here all winter.<br /><br />We're very close to apple orchard country, as well as peach and apricot country. Christmas trees aren't so plentiful as they are in the Gallatin Valley.<br /><br />Most gardeners here try to get their potatoes planted by March 17, and the rest of the garden correspondingly early. There isn't much of a selection in the supermarkets now.<br /><br />We had two measurable snowfalls so far; the first was a few inches, and melted soon. The second measured about 12 inches, and then a 40 miles an hour wind blew for 2 or 3 days. It seemed ironical to be more solidly snowbound in Virginia than we ever were in any of the Rocky Mountain States. We only have one drift between us and the county road, but it is about 200 yards long, and two to five feet deep. So we borrowed a microbus, and are driving out through the field. After the plentiful fall rains, I would say that the ground water supply should have been restored; last fall many springs went dry here, and there was a very poor crop of acorns, and the black walnuts were quite small, many of them unfilled.<br /><br />I didn't do any hunting this fall, and we miss the supply of venison which we normally have. However, I have made friends with a lot of good hunters, so I will probably hunt next year. I intend to use the bow for deer; I should be able to get a turkey, also.<br /><br />We had a husky Kirby-style 7 lb. 6 oz. boy; that completes the team. He weights about 14 now, at almost 3 months. The other kids are doing well. Kandy is in 2nd grade, and Jamie in 1st. The schools are totally integrated, and I guess they both have colored teachers. The schools do seem rather hillbillyish, so I don't mind keeping them out of school to take them to museums and the zoo, and other interesting places. This country is about like living in a history book, with so many battles having been fought nearby, and so many important people having been born here.<br /><br />I'll close here, and wish you the best.<br /><br />Vaya con Dios,<br /><br />Louis<br />Director, Center for the Study of Natural Areas<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-25268566541415030872010-03-25T09:19:00.001-07:002010-03-25T10:43:39.540-07:00Control of the Packrat<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1pbkoN7nn-DV22rOIj88yijByFynJob9O9m9gdEjUDOyRx4jX8LKvfRw1_53aecxLxVF_xOwS2iX0vTLnE02_xEHzz3wvEKg2h-bTozWKbO6iIXS3UpzoIIjoINa0L-PYY0tL0NYi7ls/s1600/packrat.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1pbkoN7nn-DV22rOIj88yijByFynJob9O9m9gdEjUDOyRx4jX8LKvfRw1_53aecxLxVF_xOwS2iX0vTLnE02_xEHzz3wvEKg2h-bTozWKbO6iIXS3UpzoIIjoINa0L-PYY0tL0NYi7ls/s400/packrat.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452612964913226466" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">(<span style="font-style: italic;">From a school paper, written 1961)</span><br /></div><br />The various species of rats included in the genus Neatoma are interesting, and some of them are quite handsome, but their business operations are usually one-sided. Their nuisance rating is high when a hunter misses his wrist watch or eye glasses, and discovers sign pointing to a "packrat", or "woodrat", as the thief.<br /><br />As long as the woodrat dwells at a distance from human habitation, he is an innocuous and interesting animal. When he favors a ranch cabin with his presence, he can contaminate grain and other foods, especially if they are carelessly stored, in such containers as burlap bags. His habit of collecting such interesting objects as jewelry, silverware, and socks causes many humans to develop a definite antipathy toward him.<br /><br />This rodent may be easily captured by taking advantage of his natural habits, such as his custom of traveling close to walls, and running behind objects where possible, due to his protective instinct for remaining near to cover. A length of stove-pipe laid parallel to the wall, with a size 0 or 1 steel trap set inside, is almost certain to result in a catch the first night.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDwdeDrccbFBFTh1QbIxhyphenhyphent3osEoqJaDsm-3T-tV8XKeOTBszp4azyq0Mi1PeOyzIIHNR_WOSPC4sAe0IlP00wteaOV3gAqvSHhZEUCtuPdXvPsxPabFQX1H1gSh_M3yTne2SeDgSDj9Q/s1600/2packrat.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 389px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDwdeDrccbFBFTh1QbIxhyphenhyphent3osEoqJaDsm-3T-tV8XKeOTBszp4azyq0Mi1PeOyzIIHNR_WOSPC4sAe0IlP00wteaOV3gAqvSHhZEUCtuPdXvPsxPabFQX1H1gSh_M3yTne2SeDgSDj9Q/s400/2packrat.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452612947476820754" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Another effective location for a trap is in a flat cake pan, with rolled barley or oats completely covering the trap. The constantly-roving rat is easily caught here, also.<br /><br />A different method of control is with the use of a flashlight and firearm. This can best be illustrated by relating the following anecdote.<br /><br />Wes Darling is a cattle rancher in central California. On roundup one fall, he and his brother slept in the cabin which Wes maintains on his summer range. Their slumbers had been disturbed by the gnawing and rustlings of a pack rat which had his homestead under the cabin.<br /><br />The second night, Wes bedded down with a flashlight and a loaded 12-gauge shotgun nearby. When the rodent entered the cabin and began its nightly investigation of the kindling pile, Wes snapped on the light and fired as he caught the rat in the beam. The rat and the charge of shot left the cabin together, boring a new hole as they went. The event was somewhat complicated by the sudden awakening of Wes' brother (who is a detective sergeant). He leaped from his bed, stumbled over the bed where Wes slept, and turned the stove over as he fell to the floor. Apart from such domestic perils, this method has more disagreable and lasting effects, if there is a woman dwelling in the building who dislikes holes in the walls of her home.<br /><br />If the house is built with log walls, and replacement panes are readily available for the windows, the preceding method may be varied, as was once done on the Gros Ventres range in Wyoming. Ralph Lerocq and five other punchers were on fall roundup, and had just moved into the cabin which had been built for such use. A bushy-tailed woodrat attracted their attention through most of the night, and they decided to rid the premises of his presence. Since each carried a pistol for romantic reasons (they were no more efficient with a handgun than most other cowboys), they planned to use these to solve their rat problem. The end of a wooden apple crate was propped in such a position that it would fall and block the entrance to the rathole when the supporting stick was jerked away by means of a string, the other end of which was taken to bed by Ralph.<br /><br />The "boys" retired in good spirits, having packed in enough food and drink to keep them this way. The principal actor in the scene made his entrance soon, and when assured of this by the direction of the sounds, Ralph jerked the string, and the intrepid punchers, reckless of any danger from their prey, left their beds with drawn six-shooters. They lit the lanterns and began the execution. After some near misses, the rat realized his unpopularity, and began an earnest search for exit holes. He forsook the floor in favor of the ceiling joists. Splinters flew, and shooters were more in danger than the target, because of their larger size and greater numbers.<br /><br />Having found no way of leaving through the roof, the woodrat dropped to the floor once more, the jumped onto a chair and ran across the table. A full gallon can of syrup was resting there, and was centered by a .38 special slug. The eventual demise of the prey was anti-climactic. Perhaps the most important qualifications for <span style="font-style: italic;">this</span> technique would be a fairly high intellect and a masterly skill in handgunnery.<br /><br />Slowly, humanity is accepting the fact that the most efficient way to control woodrats (and all our other animal neighbors) is to use preventative measures, such as properly-constructed buildings, and vermin-proof storage. If such natural controls as gopher and bull snakes, screech and barn owls, and weasels are allowed to live in some measure of security, they are quite willing, even eager, to control rodents.<br /><br />Since woodrats have proven to be adaptable to general laboratory use, and may assume great importance some day soon, it behooves mankind to act in a mature way in his "packrat" control. They may be means of conquering some vicious disease, some day very soon.Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-40021688990795390782010-01-19T10:29:00.000-08:002013-02-15T07:58:52.950-08:00Favorite Pets in Our Family Were Blondie and Dagwood!<span style="font-style: italic;">(Ed. note~This story dates from the 1950s, with Dad's first wife Frances. I believe he was in California at the time.)</span><br />
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We made pets of all the farm animals and also of many of the so-called wild ones of our state, but when someone gave us us a pair of baby badgers, well. . . that was a challenge. Everyone said that a badger just couldn't be tamed.<br />
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Calling my new infants "Blondie" and "Dagwood", I took them into the house and put them down. There is no prettier animal than a wee, soft-coated badger. Two light stripes run from their nose over their head to their neck. They are most beautiful when startled, or angry. Then they seem to just "blow up" and spread out about twice their width and every hair is standing on end. The hissing sound they make at this time, seems to be a whistle.<br />
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The little fellows took off when I put them down on the kitchen floor and visited every room, looking things over. At last they decided it was nap time so, tucking their heads under their furry coats, they fell asleep in the clothes closet, a pair of old felt slippers for their bed.<br />
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We fixed a house for them out in the shade, and knowing they great diggers, placed rabbit wire under the house and pen. They would sleep most of the day, and we let them out in the evenings to play.<br />
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We could pick them up any time when they were small, but after they reached two months old, it seemed I was the only one they trusted. I could call to them and they would come as fast as their short little legs would go. Then they would come to a very quick strop, blow themselves up, and hiss. I would pick them up and stroke their soft fur, all the while talking to them, which they seemed to enjoy.<br />
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None of the others in the family could do this. If they tried, those sharp little teeth quickly put a stop to friendship between man and beast. Never once did Blondie or Dagwood bite me.<br />
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When they were about three months old, I started to shoot gophers for them. These they would shake to pieces before eating. They had been eating table scraps and cooked rolled oats, but were very particular as to just what kind of food was fir for their royal highnesses.<br />
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Take beans, for instance. These would be sniffed at, rolled about, and then a hold would be dug and the beans buried and patted down beneath a layer of dirt.<br />
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Blondie was as sweet as she could be and gave up a lot for Dagwood. He was the aggressive type, and tried to be the big shot. He was sometimes mean to her and would slap her around now and then. But once in a while, she had enough of his nonsense. Then the fur would fly. Rolling over and over, they would squeal at each other until one was winner. Then the loser would go off into a dark corner, cover up its head and sulk for a while, looking like a small brown puff-ball.<br />
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We had the pair for over a year, then having to move to the city, we knew our pets we thought so much of would have to go back to the prairies. We would not give them to anyone for fear they would be mistreated. It was spring, so we took them to the far north pasture, where the gophers were plentiful, and turned them loose.<br />
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Dagwood took off at his highest speed and started digging, but Blondie just stood by my feet. I almost cried at that, but soon she saw her "better half" almost out of sight in a hole, and curiosity got the better of her. Off she went, and when we last saw them, the dirt was flying from the new "diggin's". I hope they were happy and perhaps by now there are several little "fuzz-balls" in that little home on the prairie.Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-52556109939590183932009-12-14T13:47:00.000-08:002009-12-14T14:02:36.781-08:00A Christmas Letter to Rose and Doug (her husband)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwEgB5CeukDSkKt9wC9dkNZbQnnM4y54tBl3p5gRY9MnEasBnOErwurdoIQIUbMI1c-E2g1725vVMkN4bg3HEuOJsXN_Tg9mAcFUdwdqbT-Gq2QyIkWezQhorXF67KUObrc3C6zdauEgs/s1600-h/Christmas.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwEgB5CeukDSkKt9wC9dkNZbQnnM4y54tBl3p5gRY9MnEasBnOErwurdoIQIUbMI1c-E2g1725vVMkN4bg3HEuOJsXN_Tg9mAcFUdwdqbT-Gq2QyIkWezQhorXF67KUObrc3C6zdauEgs/s400/Christmas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415215465977741154" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: right;">Bozeman, MT<br />1964<br /></div><br />Hi, Rose and Doug,<br /><br />You certainly picked the right present for Cherie and me-our old alarm clock was about shot-we never knew if it was right or wrong. And your card was the most charming of all we received-in fact, about the most Christmasy we've seen.<br /><br />We had an enjoyable Christmas, watching Kandy and Jamie with their toys. Kandy went to bed with the little doll with the hurt feelings that you sent. Of course, Cherie let the kids eat cookies and candy instead of food, so Kandy was sick all night. We all have to learn the hard way to say "no".<br /><br />We had some of that terrifically cold weather here-it was 30 degrees below one morning, but the spell lasted only a few days.<br /><br />We were marooned in a blizzard for several hours, in Idaho. I had visions of us all perishing. We weren't too well prepared, as far as clothing is concerned, but, fortunately, snowplows were on the job and we made it, but it took almost 11 1/2 hours to travel 218 miles. I was relieved and happy to get home, but happy to have had the experience. That was quite a feeling, to have sleet pelting me in the face so I could hardly see, and be driving through drifts, never being sure just when I'd get stuck.<br /><br />I wish you could enjoy snow and cold weather as much as I and Kandy. She's getting independent-goes out and entertains herself occasionally-also tends to travel afield, which is sort of worrying.<br /><br />We had mostly bare ground, but two days before Christmas it snowed several inches.<br /><br />The house trailer's crowded, but little by little we are organizing and reoganizing, for more efficiency, and it is livable, now. If we are lucky, we can buy some land next year (if I find some way to ake money), and build a log structure enclosing the trailer, with room for tools, books, car and goats. I'm a dreamer, I guess.<br /><br />Doug, do you think it would pay to put a straight shift in a '50 Dynaflow v8 Buick Super? It's a pretty rugged old car, but the automatic transmission gets stiff and hard to start on cold mornings. It also is hard to start when the motor is hot, sometimes, choking itself out. What do you think causes it? If we were closer, I'd liketo hire you to work over both these vehicles (my Dodge '56 pickup, too).<br /><br />I hope you are both well and happy-we're so darned busy we don't have a chance to notice whether we're happy or not, so we must be.<br /><br />Hope to see you somehow this year.<br /><br />Love, Lou, Cherie, Kandy, and JamieMarqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-52560909325323184182009-11-13T09:39:00.000-08:002009-11-13T09:44:28.205-08:00Another Letter to Sister Rose<div style="text-align: right;">Dec. 28<br /></div><br />Hi, Rose,<br /><br />Thanks for the radio, and the toys for the kids. They should have enough now, so we won't have to buy them any more till they're teenagers.<br /><br />It was fun to hear your voice-as Cherie said, if you want to get away from there, we should be able to send you the money. I'm sure the weather wouldn't be any worse here than there, and most likely better.<br /><br />Our winter camp was fun, and educational. Wasn't very cold, but I guess that's all right for this time. We saw lots of deer, and some snowshoes (rabbits).<br /><br />I have to go to school and see if I have any important papers or letters. I don't know if I'll get to go duck and goose hunting, as I wanted to, but maybe I'll survive until an elk-hunting or fishing expedition comes up.<br /><br />We've been doing some wiring, shelf-building, and painting. We need an electric dryer in this country, and we needed some more receptacles, too.<br /><br />So long for now,<br /><br />Love,<br /><br />LouMarqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-86772300394976403702009-10-22T15:35:00.000-07:002009-10-22T15:43:12.622-07:00Cowboy Poetry: "Ode to a Faithful Partner"(<span style="font-style: italic;">Written in Little Rock, Arkansas, in 1952)<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;">You are speckled now with rust, but you've helped a cause that's just,<br />And old Samuel would be proud of you today.<br />For a man of skill was he, back in 1873,<br />Where he sent the "Hawg-leg" to the West to stay.<br /><br />There's a story long an' proud, of a gun that never bowed<br />To a pistol, foreign-made or otherwise.<br />Now, your "champeen" days are done, but, you rugged son-of-a-gun,<br />You've set up a record which don't need no lies.<br /><br />Be they red men, black, or white; were they wrong or were they right;<br />When they gripped your walnut butt, they fought well-armed.<br />You have swung at Hickock's side, you were there when Custer died,<br />And it weren't no fault or your'n if they were harmed.<br /><br />You've beheaded willow grouse; been called upon to kill a mouse;<br />And with your help, I've dined right well on goose.<br />Where I've rode, you've been along, and I always felt so strong<br />That I'd argue with a grizzly or a moose.<br /><br />For you meant it when you spoke; and it wasn't any joke<br />To the varmint who had raised when I stood pat,<br />Or the gambler who had won, and proved crooked when 'twas done,<br />For his "hide-out" couldn't start to back up that!<br /><br />Someday we're gonna part, but I'll say, with all my heart,<br />That you have proved the truest friend I ever knew.<br />Through the sandstorm and the blizzard, 'gainst the snake or Gila lizard,<br />We have fought and won, but now we're nearly through.<br /><br />We preferred a rugged life, and we had our share of strife,<br />Which was what we really wanted after all.<br />So 'til Gabriel sounds his horn, we'll be ready, every morn<br />To enjoy each lively fracas 'till we fall.<br /><br />Lou Jonas<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></div>Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-23778070910899053972009-10-20T08:32:00.000-07:002009-10-20T08:54:09.981-07:00Family Newsletter, to Sister Rose<span style="font-style: italic;">(This letter was written as Dad was about to begin a job as Director of the Center for Study of Natural Areas at the Smithsonian Institution. He was to hold this job for one year. Thankfully, they went on to have child #5, which was me.)</span><br /><br /> Sept 21, 1969<br /> Bear Canyon, MT<br /> but not for long.<br /><br />Dear Friends,<br /><br />Speed is the watchword, as usually; we intend to pull out for Virginia Tuesday. And the thesis isn't done, but we feel that it is past the toughest part, which was getting the data organized and synthesized into efficient tables, graphs, and figures. I'm gradually getting to be more of a statistician, and more fond of this valuable tool (statistics, that is). We will probably go through North Dakota and Minnesota, to let the kids see some different sights, and to avoid some of the possible September heat (though we might be wishing for some of it, if it turns cold.).<br /><br />We will be signed onto the job, just about as soon as we want to be. First, we will have to get somewhat settled. We will live in the manor house (once owned by one of the Duponts) for a while, till other housing becomes available, since the Williw house (The large stone three-story structure) will take some time to fix up.<br /><br />We 're pretty excited about the possibilities for the future. It looks like I will be right in the center of the activity, and have a chance to do anything I am big enough to do. I know some of the scientists connected with the Smithsonian, and will meet all those who are concerned with ecology and conservation (most of them), in the next month or two. I should meet all the best-known and most active ecologists in this country, and several from other countries, in the next year or two, so it looks like I will have plenty of contacts for future jobs, if any come up which I want.<br /><br />We are supposed to have our fourth and last child about the 6 of November. This will be a little close for traveling, but with the camper, Cherie can stand up once in a while, and move around more. We plan to take a week for the trip, also.<br /><br />This is one hunting season when my guns will get a rest. In fact, I hung up my rods early in the season, too, and have been spending ten or twelve hours a day, mostly working on the thesis. It's very interesting, but it will be a great relief to have it out of the way, and the degree in my hand, so I can start contributing to the scientific store of knowledge, instead of trying to soak it all up.<br /><br />The Bull run Mts. are near Plains, and Warrenton, Va. Fine hardwoods, with turkeys, mushrooms, squirrels, whitetail deer, etc.<br /><br />I carboned off the first of this letter, to allow me to write to several of you, will add a personal note.<br /><br />~Dear Sis;<br /><br />I hesitate to say this, knowing you might expect us to come, and we might disappoint you, but maybe we will go through Iowa again, and drop in to see you.<br /><br />We'll be pulling a trailer, and to save time and money, we should take as direct a route as possible.<br /><br />How are you, and Doug, and his family, doing?<br /><br />How much did you use that book on self-improvement, you had there? Those things <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> work, but they take lots of time and effort for someone like you and me, who were so throughly trained in discouragement and cynicism. however, if it hadn't been for books like that, I would probably have committed sideways many years ago, instead of being about to get all the things I want (besides what I already have).<br /><br />So Love,<br /><br />Love,<br /><br />Lou, C, K, J, K, and ?Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-22983278054955488742009-10-19T09:44:00.000-07:002009-10-19T10:24:19.909-07:00A Family NewsletterJuly 23, 1966<br />Bozeman, MT<br /><br />Dear Friends,<br /><br />I've reached the stage where I have so many friends it is hard to put aside time to write to each one of them often enough to keep our valued friendship in good repair (I'd hate to drift apart from any one of them). So I've come up with a scheme which I hope will enable me to correspond more regularly, and let each friend know just about how things are here with the Jonases.<br /><br />I've decided to write a monthly newsletter to convey all general information, and then add a personal note at the end to each individual, so that you'll know I haven't put friendship on an automated and impersonal basis.<br /><br />So~here begins Newsletter No. 1, of July 23, 1966. First, I'm pretty well involved in this business of doing research trying to prove myself worthy of receiving a Ph.D. I have been to the Teton National Park several times this summer, for stretches of several days at a time. I got a chance to observe the various wild flowers as they came into bloom, and to prospect for good fishing and mushroom hunting in various parts of this section of the Rockies. This year I saw several plants which I've been looking for for years; for instance, Indian Pipe (Monotropa), and broom rape (Orobanche). Out in the sagebrush (Artemisia tridentata) we found a great many caterpillars, evidently the larva of the Io moth. I brought home a couple for pets, and they have doubled in size in three weeks, so they must be doing all right.<br /><br />There is an area there where violet green swallows sit on rocks and branches, and one can easily observe the beautiful combination of colors on their backs. Those are some of the most gloriously-colored birds in existence. When I was leaving the area I have selected for camping (so I can be right in the midst of my study area), I ran upon the hugest bull bison I have ever seen. The heavy growth of long wool and hair on his front legs made him look much like a woolly-chapped cowboy of the Teddy Roosevelt era. He was a little grumpy, so I let him take his time about moving away, so I could take the road back to civilization. It was a treat to see the elk out feeding in the grass-sagebrush areas, even though it was quite a warm day, and was bright and sunny, at 5:00 p.m.<br /><br />It was also a surprise to see the moose out feeding in the middle of the day. Two cows were "grazing" on the algae at the bottom of beaver ponds, and evidently enjoying it greatly. One was calfless, and appeared quiet plump, at least by normal moose standards, while the one with a calf was rather gaunt. The calf wasn't yet educated enough to know how to graze with his nose underwater, so hewas wandering around samping various leaves and twigs. Willow was quite acceptable to him, and it seemed that he enjoyed the taste of cattail leaves, too.<br /><br />The moose seem to have definite preference for certain willows; just why is not known yet-there is a lot to be studied in that field. There are a great many species of willows, and even the best-known willow taxonomists make many mistakes. There must be a great deal of integradation between species, as there evidently is in cottonwoods, too. Nature doesn't have much regard for taxonomists.<br /><br />My thesis will consider the various factors contributing to plant succession, trying to arrive at the reasons for cottonwoods being primary colonizers on gravel bars, a certain willow species on sand bars, and a different species on silt bars. And just how the building or washing out of beaver dams affects the communities of plants in that area. I'll have quite a challenge, gathering all the evidence available there, and then organizing it in such a manner that I can make some hypotheses which will stand up against the critical appraisal they will receive from the world's ecologists. It will be great fun anyway, even without allowing for the hours of incidental bird-watching, mushroom-gathering, an dfishing. I intend to get practically all my protein from trout and whitefish. I'll also try to get a bushel or so of suckers, for canning. We discovered that suckers have a very pleasant taste, at least as good as that of trout. The bones can be softened like canned salmon bones, by including 1 or Tablespoons vinegar per quart, and canning under pressure.<br /><br />The fishing here near Bozeman has been good, with trout taking dry ot wet flies, or most anything else. A brown hackle peacock with red tail, fished wet or dry, did a find job for me the other night on Rocky Creeek, with trout (rainbow and brown) up to 11 inches being harvested. Ed Oswald, a fellow ecologists, and I caught 20 or more grayling, up to 11 or 12 inches, from Heather Lake, a rather high mountain lake at the end of a 4 1/2 mile climb. That was a fine sight, also, with a great flower bed extending for a couple miles, holding patches of marsh marigold and white buttercups, beautiful Dodecatheon (shooting star), heather, and other blooms. Then there were conies to watch, and hyalite opal to pick up, and white-crowned sparrows and finches to entertain us.<br /><br />The kids are at least as entertaining as the fish and the other wild animals. Cherie took them to see the pigs the other night, and mentioned something about the "mama pig", then Jamie mentioned something about the "Jamie pig", and of course, there were "Kandy pigs" and "Kirby pigs", also. Kandy likes to see her daddy return each trip, and has to find me a prsent to show how she loves me. So she gets a pan and some wrapping paper, and fixes Daddy a love gift.<br /><br />Kirby is Mr. Muscles, and has learned that he can climb, so now the period of extreme watchfulness begins all over again. He gets wildly enthused over cows and horses when he sees them close up. We want to take them to the Park to see the bears and other animals this fall, maybe sooner. We counted 7 adults and 3 young, the last time we came through.<br /><br />On our last trip to the Tetons, we camped in the middle of the elk's night bedgrounds, and they woke us up frequently, either bugling or barking at the tent and car. Then some exceptionally talented coyotes favored us with a concert two different times. It was a very interesting night. And we went over Teton Pass in order to avoid the "bear jams" where strings of tourist cars are parked in the highway to watch and pohotograph bears. The east side of the pass islike a great flower garden. There are great patches of exceptionally robust fireweed (Epilobium Angustifolium), then extensive areas of bright scarlet paintbrush (Castilleja), and some fine specimens of mountain hollyhock (Iliamna rivularis). It was a very worthwhile show.<br /><br />I took time to go to the top of Signal Mt., where such a fine view of Jackson Hole is available, and was treated to a great musicale there, mainly furnished by hermit thrushes. Then a hummingbird put on a display of aerial acrobatics, rising 30 yards into the air, then dropping like a bullet almost tot he ground, then repeating, while its mate watched from the grand stand in a Douglas Fir. A snowshoe rabbit was trustful enough to hop around the mountaintop near me, feeding and people-watching for a while. Then a blue grouse male was displaying on top, too-according t on eornithologist, he does that about every year, or at least <span style="font-style: italic;">one</span> grouse does.<br /><br />Time for a study period again-have to memorize a general botany text, study more taxonomy, and review Spanish again, all in preparation for course work and comprehensive exams, which I am told are really a traumatic experience. So long.<br /><br />~~~~~~~<br />Aug. 5 I'm back from the Tetons once more, and about swamped with tasks which should all be done imediately. I need to get the battery charged, perhaps fix the starter on the pickup, so we can sell it, since it is getting a little untrustworthy, and I don't have the time and the room it requires to work on old cars. We hope to get by with just one vehicle for a couple of years, and save the money we would otherwise spend on repairs taxes, antifreeze, etc. I can use a state car to traveling back and forth to the park, I guess.<br /><br />My advisor and I have about decided that we need a rubber raft or a canoe to do the work most efficiently there in the park. I've been looking at several different types of plant communities there, namely, a silverberry, and a cottonwood, and a blue spruce, and various willow species, along with lodgepole pine, red osier dowgood, and some other species. I have to use the clues present, and look for other information, to make decisions as to just what is taking place, and how long it will take the blue spruce to replace the cottonwood, and the lodgepole to replace the aspen, and what will happen if beavers build new dams, or if present dams are wahed out, and so on. It's quite interesting to a naturalist like me, but it is a real challenge. Occasionally I feel overwhelmed at the magnitude of the problem, realizing that there is much that I need to know, and that I have just one more summer to come up with a proposition that will stand up under the close scrutiny and critical attitude of several experienced botanists and ecologists.<br /><br />Anyway, I'm having fun and learning a little each day. I am working on Spanish every now and then, too. There is a good possibility that I can use it in the future. The South and Central american countries are interested in hring american scientists, especially if the American taxpayer will foot the bill.<br /><br />The fishing is still good here, but I don't get to partake of it as often as I'd like. I stopped at the upper Gallatin and caught some plump, tasty cutthroat trout last Wednesday.<br /><br />The kids have been making lots of demands on my time, so it has taken quite a while to type this section of the letter. I'm learning alittle more aobut using carbons, and also am getting used to typing, so maybe these newsletters will be more legible in the future. I guess I had better stop and read a little in the Spanish text. So long again.<br /><br />~~~~~<br /><br />I've been promising the kids we'd take them to Yellowstone Park, to see bears, Rangers, and geysters, so we finally broke away long enough to doit today. Kandy was disappointed in the Rangers. In the book her little neighbor has, it portrays Rangers as sharp-nosed men who run around talking to bears, and these real-life ones seemed a little too prosaic to her, I guess. They really enjoyed the bears, though. We saw one sow with 3 cubs, and that was a nice bonus. Then when we saw some geysers from a distance with the steam arising, Jamie wanted to know if the clouds had fallen down. They were impressed with the boiling water springs, also, and the boiling mud.<br /><br />While waiting for kids to go to sleep, and for the mad pace in general to taper off, at Cherie's sister's house last night, I did a lot of reading in a book called "Word Power", which I assumed was some book on vocabulary building, but it really was about the effect which our conversation has on our lives, another slant, and a very effective one, on the power of positive thinking. It made me realize that of late I've been letting negative thinking and worry creep back into my life, so I can now go back to convincing my subconscious that the "impossible" things I'd like to do are just as possible as the other "impossible" things I found I could do, if I tried.Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-37876416711708186952009-10-18T19:34:00.000-07:002009-10-18T19:39:17.160-07:00A Letter to Rose (Dad's Sister)10 Feb, 1977<br /><br />Hi, Rose,<br /><br />Glad you enjoyed your Denver trip. I've been thinking of sending you bus fare to come out here, sometime next summer.<br /><br />We sure would like to get some of that excess snow the East and Midwest is having such a rough time with. If we don't have a heavy snow pack in the mountains, it tends to make the summer water supply short.<br /><br />We had a pretty good Christmas; the kids always enjoy it. How are Doug and Karen doing? Are you drawing unemployment pay? You should be able to get that, anyway, even if your boss wasn't paying into it.<br /><br />We're always busy enough, trying to get the house fixed up, keep cars running, etc. We want to build on a utility room and greenhouse, and maybe a garage this year.<br /><br />Cherie is working at French's now (they process potatoes in various ways). Marqueta stays busy, and makes a mess occasionally, or breaks something. She has lots of energy and an active mind. Jamie's becoming a <span style="font-style: italic;">very</span> good artist. Kirby and Marq are good workers, Kandy does all right, too. She's 15 now, and has changed a lot. And Jody's still my little buddy, a nice loving kid.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Bye, with love,<br /><br />Lou and Cherie, etc.<br /></div>Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-38941827258835797012009-10-17T09:38:00.000-07:002009-10-17T09:51:21.351-07:00Osage Orange-Hedge Apple-Bois d'Arc is Ripe<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4B3UR-IWN_SqdJGxqPAkJBi8Y6OIYYHdj4lfhBSvNarIQ9QBzIAMzKasjU8bnsWpyZ7N_pvj9eAczOOnYEkzCvpYeAjT3odRR6W1UvGTRMNJ-ldOYHgT8gCJshtzzl4qsg7NmUVW0cEM/s1600-h/osage-oranges.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4B3UR-IWN_SqdJGxqPAkJBi8Y6OIYYHdj4lfhBSvNarIQ9QBzIAMzKasjU8bnsWpyZ7N_pvj9eAczOOnYEkzCvpYeAjT3odRR6W1UvGTRMNJ-ldOYHgT8gCJshtzzl4qsg7NmUVW0cEM/s400/osage-oranges.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393612471053492178" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(Originally published in the Piedmont Virginian)</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">By L. Jonas</span><br /></div><br />A small tree, known to early French explorers as "Boise d'Arc," is generally called Osage orange, or hedge apple.<br /><br />Its French name is well-deserved, since this is the best American wood I know of for hunting bows. Until laminated fiberglass and wood came on the scene, many archers spent long hours whittling down a strip of this hard and resilient wood, till the cast was right. The bows looked handsome, too, especially when the tips of cow's horns were used on the ends, where grooves were cut for the bowstring.<br /><br />The tree was originally a native of Oklahoma and Arkansas but when the pioneers discovered what an effective hedge it made, it was widely transplanted through the Midwest and the East.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhBfZtGaCRtJGLZINMLumXh7CuuXrN6Wxo-1ZK8IBjyxdTxLgEZG4ozi7fnlJWN6FCTdPhPpbmG4C1Zbjus6GQCWHnNQCffafXsNn93B7A4nEzdBAWa1MOkM1mHZE6LdFtakOkzhhKxc/s1600-h/OsageOrange3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 393px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhBfZtGaCRtJGLZINMLumXh7CuuXrN6Wxo-1ZK8IBjyxdTxLgEZG4ozi7fnlJWN6FCTdPhPpbmG4C1Zbjus6GQCWHnNQCffafXsNn93B7A4nEzdBAWa1MOkM1mHZE6LdFtakOkzhhKxc/s400/OsageOrange3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393612467519336450" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Effective is the right word for it, too! It grows quite well closely spaced, and its inch-long thorns can repel any large farm animal.<br /><br />Old hedge fences can still be seen in the Piedmont, and some of them still mark the course of old Civil War roads, such as long County Road 628, near High Point, where the road was straightened some years ago.<br /><br />Not only were the thorns useful for keeping animals confined, but the hedges also had their good points as far as the hunter and nature-lover were concerned.<br /><br />Rabbits found them a safe refuge, especially when some of the trees had been cut, leaving a stump surrounded by living "barbed wire." Quail still parade along these hedge rows, and squirrels find much of their early winter feed in the large fruits. Birds such as the evening grosbeak apparently like the seeds, also.<br /><br />These fruits also make good bowling balls for the young country boy who doesn't mind staining his hands with the milky sap. It is possible that, if it ever occurs to the medical scientists, this juice will be found to be valuable, perhaps for removing some warts, like other lactiferous plants (milkweed and others).<br /><br />The thorns do present a problem where the tree sprouts up in some place where it is not needd or wanted. however, it may be that the insecticidal and insect-repelling properties of the fruit will compensate for this.<br /><br />Reports are beginning to pile up of persons who put one or two of these fragrant balls in their kitchen to drive out cockroaches and other pests. Some of the social elite like to use them for the fragrance itself, just to make their old mansions attractive to the nose, as well as to the eyes.<br /><br />The wood is a beautiful yellow, when not weathered, but it is as hard to chop as any wood known, and will chip a good axe blade, when dry. This hardness makes it a little tough to drive staples in, but the durability of the post makes up for this. Some of the posts, even when only two inches in diameters, will last 40 or 50 years. as firewood, it burns almost like hard coal-hot and lasting.<br /><br />I've had problems with this tree, such as when cutting a staff for climbing, and chopping it out of the pasture, but it is still a very interesting member of the Piedmont flora, and like most other problems, if we understand how to use the best, and take care of the words points, we'll live a richer life.Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-25543571798505119332009-10-10T09:30:00.000-07:002009-10-10T10:32:47.937-07:00Brewer's Blackbird<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">By Lou Jonas</span><br /></div><br />It's amazing how a Brewer's blackbird can carry three or four cabbage worms, and another insect or two, and still do an effective job of scolding an animal which is somewhere near its nest.<br /><br />The nest is usually well-protected by thorns, but both male and female maintain a day-long sentry duty, and they are aggressive and active enough to put sparrow hawks and magpies to flight.<br /><br />The gardener who is fortunate enough to have one or two pairs of Brewer's blackbirds nesting near his garden realizes how worthwhile it is to plant rosebushes and gooseberries for use as nesting sites. The vegetables don't begin to suffer much from insects until the young birds have matured and the family has left to take up a life of foraging in hayfields.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(Drawing by AnnaMarie Graham)</span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCGKoTEAWBULlmHtsSgdZiqXAhRuI7N7qRIVR0M8H5WSAQLiK514yzvJOVAmqJ5hXSVEA3y8mrVwpWbeOlX3MTHK6jnqIfqiOnZNfFZ3DkbYlWXoW8LGh2gFNM6tpTWiRok6PZCQwYMPw/s1600-h/brewersblackbird.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 292px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCGKoTEAWBULlmHtsSgdZiqXAhRuI7N7qRIVR0M8H5WSAQLiK514yzvJOVAmqJ5hXSVEA3y8mrVwpWbeOlX3MTHK6jnqIfqiOnZNfFZ3DkbYlWXoW8LGh2gFNM6tpTWiRok6PZCQwYMPw/s400/brewersblackbird.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391025431606466098" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Insect Diet</span><br /></div><br />A recent issue of the Montana Farmer-Stockman reported a survey of blackbirds and their foods in Winnipeg, Canada, which revealed that drop-damaging insects formed the greater part of the diet, including such as grasshoppers, beet webworms, pea and grain aphids.<br /><br />The white and glossy black color of the male, along with a fairly long tail, are good clues for field identification. In strong light there are purplish reflections on the head. The song of the male is rather quiet and a little wheezy, but it comes as a welcome relief from the normal sounds of a Montana winter, such as the rattle of sleet on the window and the whining of the cold east wind.<br /><br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sociable Polygamists</span><br /></div><br />This blackbird is quite sociable to its kind. Nests may be at least as close as five yard, and though females may outnumber males, seldom are there any Brewster spinsters. The male is a willing polygamist and may maintain more than one nest in his territory.<br /><br />The family dog finds life more peaceful and quiet when the young have become independent. Then the parents lose their suspicious and aggressive attitude. When they have forsaken their nesting area for another year, the gardener feels sort of lonely and neglected.Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-48866653311068726832009-09-03T08:54:00.000-07:002010-03-25T10:43:01.018-07:00"The White-Faced Hornet-a Good Country Neighbor"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ubIB-cND6ybpa8mhyWzPZZ2D_EwtGklE9wjuLO0_wlML5h2ZqBnj4Fkww3nCD5xkUEIHDt9ezsshsr5wSUo72tvowamkOAdfBo2qO9cu8d3HjkysCL89Y4pLxe1E_CrNcA33k-OI7B4/s1600-h/white-faced+hornet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ubIB-cND6ybpa8mhyWzPZZ2D_EwtGklE9wjuLO0_wlML5h2ZqBnj4Fkww3nCD5xkUEIHDt9ezsshsr5wSUo72tvowamkOAdfBo2qO9cu8d3HjkysCL89Y4pLxe1E_CrNcA33k-OI7B4/s400/white-faced+hornet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381735562641472434" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">By Lou Jonas<br />(Originally published in the Piedmont Outdoors)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">A teacher might envy the ease with which the white-faced hornet cant arouse immediate interest in the dullest of students.<br /><br /><br /><br />Of course, its efficient attention-getter, the stinger, is seldom used, unless you are foolhardy enough to shake the branch of an apple tree where Vespa maculata has her nest. We have had large nests within a few feet of our door, at least two different years, and none of us except me was ever stung by a white-faced hornet (When I shook the apple branch.)<br /><br />Of course, when the temperature hits 100 degrees or higher, it pays to be careful: wasps, like humans and other animals, get more short-tempered in hot weather.<br /><br />This wasp has a more chunky build than most, and the white face and white stripes on a black background help to identify it.<br /><br />The nest is not hard to identify, with its large size, after the colony is well-populated. Some measure as much as two feet in length in the South, where the warm season lasts longer.<br /><br />In the fall, the old queen hornet in each nest has become senile, and is merely waiting for cold weather or a predator to finish her life. The young queens leave the nest, and winter under bark, or some other sheltered place, from which they emerge to begin a new colony the next spring.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCResTTFxK8k-BKyMzgtv0OZm0-ttx9DdSaLDvKANLrkuSWG8GKuljhMTnje1Bvm5UtN7ioOSN_44zPYgn91aT4odb6VZYhxz_fUvsQlUX-3d4M828JKEZdb7rWuvOoUuAvI_JjLTxZe8/s1600-h/hornetsnest.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCResTTFxK8k-BKyMzgtv0OZm0-ttx9DdSaLDvKANLrkuSWG8GKuljhMTnje1Bvm5UtN7ioOSN_44zPYgn91aT4odb6VZYhxz_fUvsQlUX-3d4M828JKEZdb7rWuvOoUuAvI_JjLTxZe8/s400/hornetsnest.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381735574858046514" border="0" /></a><br />Old nests are seldom used--the queen starts from scratch, chewing fibers from weather or partly-decayed wood, and builds a series of horizontal combs enclosed within a paper envelope.<br /><br />Comstock said, "A small empty nest. . . is evidence of a tragedy. A queen. . . had started to found a colony. . . " but before she could rear a brood of workers to relieve her of the task of gathering food and paper, some predator such as a bird or a praying mantis had captured her.<br /><br />Hornets eat spiders, caterpillars, and other insects. Wherever a farmer soaks feed for his hogs, flies are apt to gather, and there one can expect to see Vespa sitting on the edge of the barrel, revolving a fly in its "hands", nibbling around the edges like a kid with a tasty apple.<br /><br />Vespa's speed is reported as 13.3 miles per hours, so a swift runner can escape the ministrations of aroused hornets, especially if his enthusiasm has been boosted by one or two injections.<br /><br />Some experienced "hornet-escapers" recommend running through limber brush such as willow or hazelnut bushes, which, while swaying as a result of a man's swift passage, may whip the hornets out of the air, or cause them to ricochet and lose speed, or at least confuse them.<br /><br />One article, at least, has been written about the ability of hornet venom to counteract rattlesnake venom, but the exact dosage was not specified (The best self-treatment for rattlesnake bite is still an ounce of prevention.).<br /><br />Having known many veteran bee-keepers to extol the praises of bee venom (similar to that of hornets) as a preventative for arthritis and rheumatism, and knowing of experiments which were done at Montana State University, to discover the effects of wasp venom in the treatment of arthritis, one might speculate whether this readily-available medicine is not responsible, at least in part, for the good health most outdoorsmen enjoy.<br /><br />Let us be properly grateful for these treatments we receive from our sharp-tailed friends.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div></div>Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-46507681642782771982009-08-18T08:47:00.000-07:002009-08-18T10:30:35.964-07:00The Valuable Elderberry<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglz212SDfTIdW-8Axui-hppE9tetgxGJmEjPVAku-L6su50a1ar0_0SFGsZ4Nxkq0p-_KjDWXJUwo3Dg2pLAJdC0dKWS2Zzg7OBFtF1ozV3ixauf5YQUEv7S0OBSm2cBnUwfLhFbKW4rI/s1600-h/18October+167.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglz212SDfTIdW-8Axui-hppE9tetgxGJmEjPVAku-L6su50a1ar0_0SFGsZ4Nxkq0p-_KjDWXJUwo3Dg2pLAJdC0dKWS2Zzg7OBFtF1ozV3ixauf5YQUEv7S0OBSm2cBnUwfLhFbKW4rI/s400/18October+167.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371356396052444914" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Valuable Elderberry<br /><br /></span>by L. Jonas<br />(Printed in the Piedmont Virginia September 29, 1971)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">The common elderberry , known as Sambucus canadensis to scientists, is widely used in landscaping , and to attract birds. the multitudinous small white flowers give the bush, especially a healthy well-formed one growing in full sunlight in moist soil, the effect of a vase of white flowers.<br /><br />The fruit is unusually rich in vitamin C, and other healthful nutrients. It has been a highly-regarded herbal remedy among Romany gypsies, Indians, and other herbalists for centuries. The flowers can also be used as a medicine, and are frequently used as fritters (fried after being dipped in batter).<br /><br />The leaves are reputed to be an effective insecticide, and the dried leaves have been used to keep certain insects away. Cows eat the leaves, whether for food or the medicinal value, perhaps only the cows know.<br /><br />Pioneers collected crocks of sun-dried elderberries and mixed them them with apples or other fruit, or by themselves, to make pie. A tea from the dried fruit, with some honey, is good for upset stomach, as well as bad colds. The juice makes a healthful drink, but is so strong, that it is much better mixed with apple juice.<br /><br />Look for elderberries along small streams. It's worth getting acquainted with.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div></div>Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-86238997086728435982009-06-26T10:02:00.000-07:002009-06-26T10:16:36.529-07:00Dwarf Mistletoe<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIZWKyW8Va-mKnfOSn3Rm3h6YwnLFX1SfSMk4SfWGclfPGxdRmQfM9wyA8JEmHX5_mX35QEwHoS3ahy8ze7k19NT4GZRbAuh-5z9ozxdUIXBCPHOudpgDGsVngFO0bQMv1RTD-smcAXYc/s1600-h/dwarfmistletoe.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIZWKyW8Va-mKnfOSn3Rm3h6YwnLFX1SfSMk4SfWGclfPGxdRmQfM9wyA8JEmHX5_mX35QEwHoS3ahy8ze7k19NT4GZRbAuh-5z9ozxdUIXBCPHOudpgDGsVngFO0bQMv1RTD-smcAXYc/s400/dwarfmistletoe.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351686260614455650" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">From "Our Wildlife Heritage", Montana<br />1 May, 1962<br /><br />by Lou Jonas</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Here is a plant which makes it legitimate to kiss a pretty girl, furnishes a uniquely shaped wood used in Western furniture and building, and, on the scientific side, ejects a seed at about 100 times the launching speed of satellite rockets.<br /><br />This is the only member of the mistletoe family known to Montana. It has been used in place of the much larger and showier American mistletoe to hang in doorways at Christmas time, but there are drawbacks. Most of these dwarfs are less conspicuous than the needles, so it may be necessary to carry a magnifying glass to prove your point.<br /><br />Probably the most conspicuous sign of its presence is the "witches'-broom" which is frequently seen on evergreens. The "witches'-broom", in turn, is responsible for the peculiar malformed poles which are used in the manufacture of unusual furniture, and as supports for ceilings in many commercial places which desire a truly Western atmosphere.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">A witches'-broom</span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQDXgZ8cubXtJ4MaAajmPxkDSeSITcZQRIj4jC5cYDq3070inSrcwFJ3hyphenhyphenv8xdhg7HxfNd-Zzqd2cycjj0aQlIgP65Ba1_dFEaNo9VHSkht0U74VNkTLdW-p5EOc7hFMVpSg2QF4H45kk/s1600-h/witchesbroom.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQDXgZ8cubXtJ4MaAajmPxkDSeSITcZQRIj4jC5cYDq3070inSrcwFJ3hyphenhyphenv8xdhg7HxfNd-Zzqd2cycjj0aQlIgP65Ba1_dFEaNo9VHSkht0U74VNkTLdW-p5EOc7hFMVpSg2QF4H45kk/s400/witchesbroom.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351685862633433954" border="0" /></a><br />The knotted Forest, extending through part of Montana and Wyoming, is a common source of this type of lodgepole log.<br /><br />Scientists have timed the speed with which this plant ejects its tear-drop-shaped seed, and estimate it to be about 500 g. The initial acceleration of a typical satellite-launching rocket is between 5 and 10 g.<br /><br />There are five species of dwarf mistletoe in Montana, most of them more prevalent in the western part. Each has a specific host on which is grows. The one which prefers lodgepole pine is fairly common in Bridger Canyon, near Bozeman, and, of course, in the Knotted Forest.<br /><br />Another, which lives mostly on limber pine, is found only occasionally, but if one travels to the crates of the Moon, in Idaho, it came be observed on almost all the places in the monument. One species likes Ponderosa pine, another will be found on fir, and still another Western larch.<br /><br />The leaves do dontain chlorophyll, so it is able to manufacture its own food, but obtains water and minerals salts from the tree. The flower is inconspicuous, and the fruits are tiny berries which cling to a limb, in case they are fortunate enough to land there, and then begin a new generation.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div></div>Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318410110603321677.post-66999349755343230782009-06-25T08:46:00.000-07:002009-06-25T09:05:30.597-07:00The Porcupine<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdhEaQddNzU7VdMK_a4U2UqZ7DpgBRtcDeUZkawOv7q2PsDmLsCdpVTBFOH1_fesaGIyvdyLEEAVLRz14lPOxn1Cofnn_7yP-rIujjqNGUijv0PoXwed5hSThfA3H55c-_-iF5E_nNIXc/s1600-h/porcupine.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 346px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdhEaQddNzU7VdMK_a4U2UqZ7DpgBRtcDeUZkawOv7q2PsDmLsCdpVTBFOH1_fesaGIyvdyLEEAVLRz14lPOxn1Cofnn_7yP-rIujjqNGUijv0PoXwed5hSThfA3H55c-_-iF5E_nNIXc/s400/porcupine.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351296758863225666" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">By L. Jonas<br />(Printed in a Montana newspaper in the early 1960s)</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;">The blunt-nosed "quill pig" could hardly be mistaken for an "eager beaver." He moves rather aimlessly from tree to tree, and finally selects one which seems just the same as all the others.<br /><br />When there is snow on the limbs to furnish drink for him, he is content to perch high above ground for weeks. He apparently is sensitive to temperature, as he seeks cover in caves or beaver holes when the temperature drops past 30 below zero.<br /><br />His preferred food is the bark from all species of pine, but he will accept spruce, cottonwood or willow bark, and feeds willingly in a handy alfalfa field or corn patch, and also eats water plants.<br /><br />His diet may include such delicacies as axe handles, plywood signs, aluminum pans, automobile tires and dynamite-anything, in short, which tastes even slightly of salt (<span style="font-style: italic;">Ed note: they also love rosebushes!</span>).<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tasty Trees</span><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Occasionally Porkie girdles young pines. Then the sugars, which are produced by the chlorophyll of the needles, are blocked above the scar by hardened pitch. This makes the area above old scars very tasty to him, as well as to squirrels and mice.<br /><br />One porcupine is estimated to destroy as much as $50 worth of timber a year. In this respect, of course, he is a poor second when compared to careless hunters, with their cigarettes.<br /><br />Cattle and horses sometimes attempt to investigate this creature at close range. Not fond of being handled (or nosed), Porkie wards off such unwelcome attention with a swift tail and erected body spines.<br /><br />Only the fisher and big cats seem able to kill him with impunity, and they are his only serious enemies among the forest dwellers. When these predators are removed by trapping or poison, the numbers of porcupines increase greatly, and they become a threat to timber production.<br /><br />One winter in Jackson Hole, from November till April, I shot 19 porcupines, in order to relieve the pressure on the pines and spruce in our area. Montana forestry officials have imported fishers to release in the north-western part of the state, to control the porcupines there.<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Porcupine Meat<br /></span></span><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Woodsmen find porcupine meat a welcome change from the steady diet of venison, especially if Porkie has had access to alfalfa hay, or green water plants. If he has lived in deep timber, and eaten nothing but spruce bark, he tastes much like the tree itself, but he is still far from inedible, especially if the eater has been travelling on snowshoes all day long.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><br /></div><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></div><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /></div><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></div><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div></div>Marqueta (Mar-kee-ta) G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13471332103238738458noreply@blogger.com1