TOOLS

Using what we have

I felt my horse pause for a second and then resume his very fast walk. 

 The rancher riding behind me said, “Hey What’s going on?  That’s the third time he has stopped and dropped one little apple of poop.”

 I steeled myself for his reaction to my explanation.   “Well”, I answered, “He is new to this part of the Forest and he is making sure we can find our way home.”

 He said something about horse poop in general and resumed his bored silence.

 I work in the Range Department of the U.S. Forest Service.  My job is to check fences, water tanks, grass and weeds.  I also keep an eye on the riparian zones and use of the vegetation by wildlife.  I usually ride my horse, Chance, when I have a field tour with a rancher.  Chance is an Arabian and can walk fast in the mountains.  He is sure footed, loves to climb hills and work hard.  If it was not for a few embarrassing habits it would be a joy to ride him in the company of others.  I bought him to be an endurance horse and he is very good at that.  He also packs, (reluctantly) can do barrel racing and pole bending, and has worked as a cow horse.  He’s a terrible cow horse but he is just a little better than an ATV.

 Art and I rode up a steep hillside to a little bench.  We, (I) decided to measure the cattle grazing use on the open ridge.  Chance stood still as a rock while I took a couple of pictures.  I got off and started my transect.  First I recorded a UTM point on my Global Positioning System in my little iPAQ notebook. Then I chose a point in the distance, in this case a tree, to walk toward. Next I measured the amount of grass the cattle had eaten every second time my left foot hit the ground. When I had recorded 25 of them I looked up.  Chance had grazed around to the end of the transect and was waiting for me.  I took my camera out of the saddle bags and took a final photo back over the area I had just measured, remounted and was ready to go. 

 I looked over to see if Art had noticed Chance’s brilliant ability to stay out of the way and still meet me at the end of the transect.  Art was looking over the edge of a cliff smoking a cigarette, and took no notice of me whatsoever. 

 Art was riding a sensible little Quarter Horse mare.  She was red with two white hind socks and a narrow blaze.  She did not think much of Chance and pinned her ears and snaked her head every time he looked her way.

 “Well,” I said brightly, “The elk haven’t used much grass in the high country this spring, the cattle will be able to stay their full allotted time in this pasture.”

 “That’s because they’re in my hayfield eating alfalfa.”

 I tried again, “So cattle prices are up according to the radio this morning.”

 “I contracted my calves two months ago when they were 20 cents lower.”

 I decided there were no safe subjects for us to discuss so I rode along in silence, except for the soft plop sound every hundred yards or so when Chance left another horse apple.

 We came to a Y in the trail and Chance left a poop close to the Y both before and after the intersection.

 Art finally asked, “What do you feed him that lets him drop just one little apple at regular intervals?  How can he control it like that?  Can he keep it up all day?”

 “He gets grass pasture at night, a quart of grain with extra vitamins and minerals in the mornings, and a few alfalfa pellets for treats.”   “I don’t know how he controls it but he can keep it up all day.”

 Suddenly Chance let out an explosive snort and jumped sideways.  Arts horse bolted by us and it took him a little while to bring her back into control. I was hoping it was a grizzly bear or a moose that spooked Chance but looking around all I saw was a spruce grouse.

 “What spooked the horses?” I asked.

 “Your horse spooked my horse.” He answered.

 We had made 9 transects and had traveled several miles so I suggested a lunch break.

 “I dropped my sandwich when your horse spooked.”  He replied. 

I offered him half of my protein bar but he did not want any.  I was beginning to wonder if this day could be any more dismal when a thunder storm rolled over the mountain and rain started pouring down before I could get my slicker on.  Fortunately for Art he had donned his slicker after the hullabaloo with his horse.

 I shrugged into my slicker, already damp, got back on Chance and we continued up the trail to see a newly installed water tank in the upper end of a large grassland, miles from the road.  I was really getting annoyed with Art.  I had looked forward to a day with someone else to go along.  I usually work alone so when someone accompanies me it is a treat.  But today I was working with a person who felt the day was a waste of his precious time. 

 Suddenly I noticed Chance was lashing his tail from side to side and that when he looked back at me his lips were pressed tightly against his teeth, two sure signs that a horse is angry.  Unfortunately, Chance is a mirror of my emotions.  If I get mad, he acts out.  I tried to calm down and relax, think beautiful thoughts.  No good.  Chance pulled out the big guns.  When Art and his horse came just a little too close Chance blasted them with gas.  He looked around to make sure it was a hit, and pranced up the trail, head high and banner tail waving.

 Art asked again, “What do you feed that horse, geeze, let me lead.”

 I reluctantly let him lead.  His little mare poked along and Chance was going mad with frustration at the slow pace.  I would hold him back for a while, then let him walk fast and catch up.  Then hold back again.  It was kind of a reverse inch worm system.  Finally we reached the top of the grassland where the new tank was located.  The new system was on the edge of a high grassy park, just inside the timber.  It was not obvious from the trail, therefore less likely to be shot full of holes. 

 My irritation dissolved.  The system had an exclosure around the spring about half an acre in size.  The fence was tight and secure.  No cattle would be able to access the spring.  The headbox that collected the water was placed so maximum flow went to the first tank.  The first tank was a 10 ft. round fiberglass model.  It held about 1100 gallons of water.  The float valve was protected with a bear proof cage made of rebar and chicken wire.  I could see that birds and bats would be able to swoop down for water in relative safety and if they did fall in they would be able to use the cage to get out.  Even the trickiest bear would not be able to get to the float through the cage.  The second tank was about 60 feet below the first tank.  It was a 10ft. X 3Ft. rectangular fiberglass tank.  It would hold 430 gallons of water.  The float cage was smaller than on the round tank but would still deter bears from playing with (breaking) the float.  A small wildlife ladder went up the side of the tank adjacent to the pipe.  The tanks had been helicoptered in during mop-up activities after a small wildfire the year before.  Art had packed in the fence posts and wire with his horses.  Art might be a quiet man but he was a marvelous engineer.

 “Wow.” I said. “Very nicely done. The cattle can trail in through the timber from the 500 acre park to the west to use this tank in addition to the tank providing water for this park.”

 “Yeah,” he answered, “the water storage alone will be a big help.  The cows will be able to get their drink and go back to grazing instead of standing around the spring waiting for a puddle to fill.”

 Oh, I thought, two whole sentences.  This guy is getting positively chatty.  I got off and took pictures of the system from every angle for our Infra (infrastructure) records, made a few notes, took a UTM and we were done for the day.

 It was still raining, the clouds were low over the mountains and it looked like the storm would last into the night.

 Art said, “I could call my wife from that ridge to the west and have her meet us about 3 miles from here, then I could take you to your truck.”

 We were only about 6 miles from the trailhead where my truck and trailer were parked.  If I went with Art we would ride for 3 miles and be in the truck for another 10 miles to get to where I was parked.

 “Thanks for the offer,” I said, “but Chance and I can go back by the trail.”

 “You’re sure?”  “It’s pretty wet out here.”

 “I’m nice and dry inside my slicker, Chance and I will be fine.

   We parted company and Chance tossed his head, broke into his fastest walk and we headed back for the trailer.  On the way out I noticed the fresh rainy smell of the grass and the wonderful scent of the pines and fir.  Wildflowers filled all the parks.  At the edge of the timber I saw a cow elk and her tiny calf.  I thought of the wonderful tools I had.  An endurance horse that could easily walk 4 miles an hour, a handheld computer to do all the math, a GPS system to make accurate maps of my transects, an awesome camera to record this beautiful day, and a poop trail to guide me home.  It just doesn’t get any better than that.

Diane Johnson