Visitor Center In The Desert

Last Saturday I spent a good part of the day giving things away.

Posting on a local Facebook classified site, I listed pictures of assorted ends and odds that have been laying around primarily in the garage, posted everything for free and encouraged others to do the same.

Some did and it turned out to be a nice day, with a number of people handing things (that had simply been taking up space) over to people who could make use of random stuff that we no longer needed.

On the way home from Arco (which was the meeting place for people to pick up things they wanted) LC, Kory and I headed towards the house, traveling back through the high desert of the Snake River Plain.

It was late in the day, the sun was already beginning to set, and although it had been unseasonably warm temperatures (as they do in this part of the country) were already dropping like a rock.

Half way home - in the middle of the empty highway, and in the middle of the empty desert - LC pulled the Tahoe off the road.

Climbing out I pulled the zipper of my jacket up towards my chin.

The early evening was dead calm and very cold but, excited to be in the middle of the desert looking out over the mountains to the north and the desert sunset in front of me, I gave the cold little attention.

We were into November.

With winter fast approaching there would be few days remaining like the one we had just had, and on this night the sky was silent and gorgeous.

  I wanted to enjoy it, for the little time we had left of it.............

Looking back towards Arco and the Big Lost River Valley................

The top of Big Southern Butte................

LC had parked in a huge paved area just off the highway, and close to the turnoff to Howe...............

After snapping a few quick pictures I climbed back into the truck and we continued with our trip.

On the spur of the moment I asked LC to stop at the Visitor Center.

We had passed by this center many times, and every time we blew by it I told myself that we should stop there on the way home, but somehow it never seemed to happen.

The desert between Atomic City has few focal points.

From Atomic City there are miles and miles of relatively flat land, with little to see other than sage and the odd INL secret squirrel installations visible in the distance.

Once you reach the turn-off to the tiny community of Howe, the terrain begins to slowly but irrevocably rise, first small hills and then larger hills, and then small mountains.

The promise of the tall and majestic mountains further into the valley are there, but only the promise.

And then...........in the middle of seemingly nowhere and nothing, there is a Visitor Center that overlooks Big Butte.

On this evening, as the sun was beginning to drop behind the mountains, and with little sunlight left, we pulled in to finally check it out.................

As we pulled into the Visitor Center I climbed out and headed towards the back of the building, drawn to the final heart beats of the sunset.

Behind me, I could hear LC reaching into the back of the truck to fetch our dog, who was already excitedly anticipating this unexpected walk so late in the day.

After snapping the picture above, I turned my attention to the information boards.

There were many of them, and like a mad woman on a mission I began snapping quick pictures, knowing that in just a few minutes we would be completely out of daylight.

Information board about the desert, about INL, about Big Butte, about the vegetation and the rock formations and the volcanic history of this region.

Click on the pictures and they will enlarge..................

Walking to the far end of the Visitor Center I looked up and studied these flags for a moment.

They were wind blown.  

Frayed from the cold and the endless wind that blows without constraint across the desert.

It was only a couple of days away from Veterans Day, and as I studied the frayed and tattered flags I hoped that someone (who?) would change them out.

LC approached with me Kory, looked up at the three flags, and when I said something about them he mentioned how difficult it was to maintain flags in this unforgiving environment.

True.

But maintain them or don't put them up................

I watched as my guy and my dog headed back towards the info boards and then headed for the Tahoe.

It was freezing, but the night was so incredibly beautiful that I was just not ready to climb back into a vehicle, pull back onto the highway, speed across flat desert land back to our tiny desert town.

Not just yet...............

Right behind the Visitor Center is a dry river bed.

On the shoulder of the highway is a sign letting passers-by know that they are driving over the Big Lost River.

The Big Lost River is a dry river bed.  

A lost river indeed.

This sign told the story of a river diverted, and of the huge volume of water that over the years has been dedicated to farming between Mackay and Arco, and that eventually has drained this river.

Such a shame.

A shame not only from a dry-river perspective, but also because Arco is beginning to struggle mightily with water issues.

Interestingly some of the river has gone underground.

Also interestingly, Atomic City sits on a huge aqua duct...............

It was a good day when it was all said and done.

It would have been better if I could have sold things, but truthfully at this time of year I had little ambition to try and sell random things that were simply taking up space in our garage and what will eventually be our sun room.

This close to winter I only wanted to clear things out.

So people who could use our unwanted things were happy to get our cast-offs.

After meeting with people in the parking lot at Pickles Place in Arco, LC and I walked into the restaurant and quickly grabbed some burgers before heading back towards Atomic City.

And after mediocre and slightly overpriced burgers, it was nice to finally make a stop at this Visitor Center in the desert, that looked really beautiful against a back drop of a setting sun...............

The night walked down the sky with the moon in her hand...............Frederick L. Knowles

Softly The Evening Came

Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon 

Like a magician extended his golden want o'er the landscape; 

Trinkling vapors arose; and sky and water and forest 

Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together............Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Breaking Through The Clouds

All the unexpected color that we had in the desert through a rainy August and through a mild and warm early fall are now gone, only to be replaced with the familiar brown and beige.

The sky is becoming increasingly angry and I am becoming increasingly impatient for snow.

By tomorrow night the bottom is supposed to drop out.

Not in the way that the bottom drops out in early fall when day time temperatures suddenly change from 80 to 50.

The kind of bottoming out that takes night time temperatures from 32 to 0.

Small chances of snow are in the forecast every day, so I guess we'll see.

And in the meantime, regardless of whether the sun is shining or the snow is falling, and regardless of whether the temperature is 52 or 22, I will walk with my girl.

In the quiet of a quiet town in the middle of the desert, the quiet seems to be cathartic for both of us.

Kory doesn't like Blackfoot.

It is a small, farming town of only 10,000 people, that is located 30 miles to our south.

The place where we bank, and shop, and do all the other types of business that people need to do in order to keep their lives together.

Usually our trips to Blackfoot are busy and entail multiple stops.

Throughout Blackfoot there are garages that use noisy air compressors and other car-repair-things that make loud noises and that scare our dog.

On our approach to town Kory inevitably retreats to the safety of the bunker on the floorboard, and she stays there until we are ready to leave town again.

LC, after watching her hunker down on the floor of the truck for the first time, made a joke about the unexpected noise and our new dogs' response to it.

Blackfoot is now unofficially known at the Puppy Killing Place.

 After negotiating too much traffic and inevitably spending too much money, we are always pleased and over eager to finally blow out of town.

Within five minutes of leaving Blackfoot we have the highway to ourselves, Kory finally makes her reappearance,  and both of those are good things................

Although we still do not have snow in Atomic City, we are surrounded by snow.

This morning there was light snow covering Big Butte.

There was also light snow covering one of the Twin Buttes, but interestingly only one.

In the mountain ranges to our north though, there is increasing amounts of snow, which began almost a month ago and which has only increased from that time to this.

Late a few evenings ago I walked with Kory.

It was almost dark and I had planned on staying in town.

On the spur of the moment, and instead of turning left at the end of the main road and picking up one of the town side roads, Kory and I continued walking straight, impulsively heading out of town.

Turning onto the first trail outside of town we wandered together around the outskirts of the raceway, that is now dormant to the next six months.

Absently walking, taking turns wandering on trail and wandering through open fields filled with knee high sage bushes.

It had been raining most of the day, but this late in the afternoon I looked to the north and could see that the skies were beginning to clear.

It was supposed to be cool and sunny the next day.

What I was seeing in front of me told me that the forecast would hold true.

The mountains close to Howe (about 20 miles from Atomic City) were filled with snow and the pink clouds of a setting sun..................

In the northwest the mountains that had been hidden all day were beginning to make their reappearance.............

And looking back the way we had come, Atomic City was bathed in a pink sky.

I could see the lights of the bar, Big Butte behind town, and the red sky that was battling with the heavy cloud cover that had dominated the town all day.

It really was going to be a nice day tomorrow!

I had planned on walking a little further on the trail, picking up another trail and then one more on the far left side of town, that would eventually circle me back to the house.

My main concern at the time was getting back to the house before it got too dark, but instead my concern quickly turned to coyotes.

I could not see them but I could hear them to the north of me.

There were a few of them.

Standing for a few moments listening to the coyotes and watching Kory intently sniffing a sage bush, I briefly debated what I should do.

I could hear LC's voice in my head.  Take your gun.  No, I'm just staying in town.

So much for just staying in town........

Here I was standing in the middle of a trail, close to dark, listening to coyotes off in the not-too-far distance.

Dammit!

After a brief internal conversation I decided to take Kory back the way I had come.  It was the quickest way to get back into the city limits...............

Walking the next morning in bright sunshine...............

After a couple of frustrating weeks trying to get in touch with Chris, I finally talked to him last night.

He has moved yet again, and this time is sharing a house with two other people.

One guy and one woman and the woman is apparently more than a room-mate but less than a significant relationship.

He seems happy with the move, happy with the room-mates, happy with the woman, and it sounds like it is a good living situation all around.

It is good to hear that he is with a woman in some capacity because I think that it has been a long time for him.

I am happy to hear that he is living with people that he likes.

If I think about it all too much, I know how much I worry about him.

He has been alone up there all this time.  

And it pleases me if I know that he is a little less alone........

Two and a half years ago Chris moved to Calgary and for a few days he was unemployed, homeless and living out of his car.

Thankfully only for a few days on all counts.

In these past couple of years my son has moved countless times, had countless different jobs, finally decided on a career path, and finally gone to school to get the training he needed.

He got a job in his field right out of school and this week his probationary period is over.

After many stops and starts my child is finally pulling all the pieces together and building himself a life.

When he talks to me I can still hear the scattered thoughts and the what-ifs - his mind moving at warp speed and even through the phone I can hear the hamster wheel in his head spinning wildly.

But that's just Chris.

Always working the angles.  Always seeking and striving and struggling to find his place in the world.

When he called me last night he had just finished shoveling snow and wanted to talk for a long time.

I still remember the first time that he was in Iraq.  

I never knew when my son would call me, and more often than not he would wake me in the middle of the night.

In the middle of the night my Air Force son would talk to me for well over an hour at a time, talking in that free wheeling and random way he has when he just wants to connect and reconnect with me.

I would sit in my pajamas with my feet up on the desk in the home office, listening to Chris babble on.

I think he liked the calls because he called me often that first time.  The second time he was over there we got cut off frequently and with no warning.

I know that I liked the calls.

He was OK.  He was safe.  He was fine.  

He was OK.

More calls than not over the past couple of years have been sporadic and brief.  But recently they have been longer.

I will take that as a good sign.................

My dog happily chewing on a rawhide bone in the living room..............

There is more to a boy than what his mother sees. There is more to a boy then what his father dreams. Inside every boy lies a heart that beats. And sometimes it screams, refusing to take defeat. And sometimes his father's dreams aren't big enough, and sometimes his mother's vision isn't long enough. And sometimes the boy has to dream his own dreams and break through the clouds with his own sunbeams...........Ben Behunin 

Max And Copper

Yesterday was November 6, and it was the one year anniversary of when we drove over to Boise to pick Kory up at the airport:
http://livingthejuneauadventure.blogspot.com/2013/11/the-story-of-kory.html
Over the past year she has slowly but irrevocably become a beloved and cherished member of our small family, and LC and I are still in awe of her.
Her speed and agility, her loving personality, her sweet heart, her ability to communicate with us, and the impact that she has made on our lives..............

Over the past few months both LC and I wondered if our sweet girl would like to have a buddy.
Another dog for company.
Another dog to play with in the yard and to run with out on BLM land.
We wondered if this still-young dog was being stimulated enough by two owners who sometimes wrestle to keep up with her boundless energy.
And so a month or so ago both LC and I began looking online for another dog that we though may be a good fit for our girl.
A dog with a sweet nature, who loved life as much as she did, who could go toe to toe with her out on BLM land, who could back her up in the event of unexpected confrontation.
With those thoughts in mind we searched, and eventually we found Max.
He was two years old.  A yellow lab.  Located about 70 miles away in the Rexburg Animal Shelter.
LC and I looked at the picture of this apparently happy boy.
He had not yet been neutered, but we knew that the adoption fee included the neutering, as well as up-to-date shots.
His face made me smile.  Shining eyes.  Wide open and happy face.
He looked like a big, friendly, fun loving, people loving, life loving, energetic goofball which was exactly what we were looking for.
Calling the day before we made the trip, I was reassured that Max may be a good fit for us.
The woman at the shelter that I spoke to reassured me that he was friendly, happy and eager to please.  
So far, so good.
I told her that the plan was for LC and I to meet Max first, and if we liked him we wanted to introduce Max to Kory to see how they got along.
Kory would be the one making the final decision.
I was told that we could bring Kory into the fenced area with Max so that they could interact with each other.
When I expressed concern about all the dogs that must have played in that same fenced area, I was reassured that every dog at the shelter was first quarantined for a week to determine health and to identify any aggressive personalities.  And then they were all given initial shots before being released into the general animal shelter population.
Max had been out of quarantine for only two days.
I liked her answers.
LC, Kory and I eagerly drove up to Rexburg late yesterday morning, on the one year anniversary of our getting Kory, excited at the prospect that we might find a running and playing buddy for our dog.
Walking into the animal shelter I was immediately pleased with what I saw.
A bright, clean, well lit building and after telling the young lady at the desk about our desire to meet Max, she asked us to sign in and then wash our hands.
More and more I liked this place.
After a visit to the dirty, noisy, disorganized shelter in Blackfoot, each positive answer and engaging smile and sign of cleanliness and caring reassured me that we were in a place that truly cared about animals.
The young woman behind the desk was a student intern who was working for school credit, and she led us through the building until we reached a door that led directly out to a fenced area
Unlike Blackfoot where the dogs were relegated to small and damp cages, there were three dogs at this shelter and they were all playing outside.
As soon as I saw Max I smiled.
He was beautiful.  Big and muscular and looking like a happy, tail wagging pup.
With a great deal of difficulty we managed to keep three enthusiastic and energetic pups inside the fenced area, and LC and I squeezed through the half open gate.
Immediately Max ran over to us and with his mouth, nipped at my hand.
Startled I pulled my outstretched hand back, and Max immediately worked his way behind me, stood up on his hind legs and tried to hump me.
OK.  He was a two year old un-neutered male.  Keep that in mind Karin.
Walking to the center of the fenced area LC called to Max and he enthusiastically ran in circles around us.
And then stood up on his hind paws again, rested his front paws on my shoulders, and humped me again.  He had a good hold on me and I struggled to pull this big and heavy dog off me.
For the next 15 minutes Max alternated between running, nipping at me, biting at my jacket, and standing on my back and humping me, and it was all I could do to keep this muscular mutt at bay.
No.  
He was a beautiful dog, and I knew that some of his rambunctiousness would be tamped down after neutering, but LC and I looked at each other and knew that this was not the right dog for us.
And not the right dog for Kory.
We had to adopt him before getting the neutering, and neither one of us was willing to take a chance on what kind of dog he would be after the fact.
He had no manners at all.  Someone had done him a grave disservice.  Would he make a good family dog for someone?  Would he make a good farm dog for someone, when he had not been socialized at all?
We didn't know.
But he was not the right dog for us.
Walking back into the shelter we told the young volunteer and the young employee what we had decided.
In conversation we found out that Max had been in quarantine for two weeks, and had been at the shelter the longest of the dogs they had.
That isn't what I had been told over the phone.
I thought that, but did not say that.
Would we be interested in fostering Max for a few days?
No.
With that, we disappointedly walked out of the shelter.
Climbing back into the Tahoe LC and I decided that we would stop at the Idaho Falls shelter and Blackfoot shelter on the way home.
Since we had to go by them anyway.....................

Walking into the Idaho Falls Animal Shelter we quickly realized that it was also clean and well cared for, and after greeting the friendly lady at the front desk she pointed us in the direction of the animals.
Unlike Rexburg, the dogs were all inside, and unlike Rexburg there were many many more dogs.
God I hate these places.
All desperate, unwanted, unloved, innocent animals who had been abandoned and disposed of by careless owners, many of them surreptitiously placed in a drop box in the middle of the night so as not have to pay the $20 fee for surrendering their dogs and cats over the city.
So many times I have wondered why people refused to get their animals fixed.
,And so many times I have wondered why a person would pay $200, $500, $1500 for a specific breed of dog that is the result of copious back yard breeding in this region.
Why would someone buy a dog from someone who views dogs simply as Christmas money, when there are millions of unwanted animals every year that are euthanized.
Walking through the rows of cages filled with beautiful dogs I was reminded again of my dislike of people.
There were a couple of very small and very cute puppies, who were sitting forlornly on the floors of their cages looking out into the hallway that had now become their constrained and heart breaking world.
And my heart broke for them.
It broke for them all.
A few dogs simply sat and looked at us as we passed by after reading about them.  A few eagerly bounced around their small cages looking hopefully at us.
Please take me.
Please.
Pick me.
Goddammit I hated these places.
And then we saw this girl.
She was very thin.
I crouched down and she silently walked up to the front of her cage and stood there, not looking at me.
Hello Baby.
She was shy and uncertain and I reached the tips of my fingers through the cage and softly touched her cheek.
I spoke softly to her.  Her name was Copper.  She was two years old.  
LC and I were both drawn to this thin and shy and seemingly sweet little girl.
She needed someone to love her and to call her their own.
I could sense it in every fiber of her thin body.
LC and I talked to the receptionist, we grabbed a leash, walked back to Copper and gently put the leash around her neck.
Walking out to the fenced-in grassy area, as soon as we took the leash off her Copper did what a hound dog does.
She was instantly and strongly nose driven.
After smelling her way around the grassy area Copper began to run full speed around the interior perimeter of the area.
She was suddenly fast and energetic and I smiled as I watched her.
Partly because I recognized a dogs' delight at a brief taste of freedom, and I relished in her delight.  
And I smiled because of how she looked when she ran.
She was fast although not as fast as Kory.
And unlike Kory - who runs with the speed and complete grace of a Greyhound - this beautiful little girl was all legs and knobby knees and she ran with the grace of a slightly off balance new foal.
Spending a long time with her LC and I finally decided that we wanted Kory to meet her.
Only, when I talked to the receptionist she referred to the fenced area as the "Parvo Field".
Copper had had a rudimentary physical and no apparent illness or viruses were found (although the owner had tossed her into the drop box with a wood sliver in one paw so big that it had required medical attention), but the woman was not prepared to tell us that there was nothing in the grass that Kory could pick up.
So no.  That wasn't going to work.
Instead, we decided to keep them on the pavement and small front lawn to the side of the shelter by the parking lot.
I had Copper.  LC got Kory.  
They sniffed each other and then both ignored each other, each more intent on following their respective noses than interacting together.
Over the next 20 minutes they occasionally crossed paths, sniffed each other and then went back to following wherever their noses took them.
No fights.  No growls.  No dominating behavior from either of them.
Not much of anything really.
The longer we spent with Copper the more we liked her.
Copper had been thrown into the drop box and the shelter kept those dogs for a week before adopting them out, until they got in touch with the owners if possible (to see if owners had either changed their minds or to see if they could get the $20 surrender fee from them).
If the dog wasn't chipped or tagged there was no way to get in touch with the owner, but Copper was chipped.
And so the shelter had made the call - pay up, come get your dog, or the city will send you a bill.
As we were outside with Copper and Kory the owner walked out of the shelter, having paid the dough and formally surrendering the dog.
We could take her today if we wanted her.
The owner blew smoke up our behinds and we stood wordlessly listening to him blow smoke.
He thinking we were buying his crap, and both of us already knowing the truth about who and what he was.
And yet again yet again yet again yet again I was reminded of how much I hate people.
Putting Kory back into the Tahoe we walked into the building with this quiet and precious Plott hound dog.
An elderly volunteer grabbed a couple of treats, called Coppers' name, and this up-til-now quiet and introverted dog suddenly looked up and stared attentively at the treat.
The woman said "sit" and Copper sat.
She repeated the trick a second time.
This dog was reachable and she was trainable.
I was beginning to fall in love with this sweet little girl.  
I could feel it.
I sat on the floor, called her to me and she came.  Moving my face close to hers I softly called her name again, and she looked me in the eye for the first time.  For just a second before looking away again.
I stroked the side of her face and rubbed her long, floppy ears.
God this girl needed someone to love her.
We took her outside again.
How would Kory react to another dog in her home?  In her house with her people?
Kory had been through a lot in her life and we only knew very little of her story.
She was comfortable in her home.  With her people. With her routine.  With her walks and her runs and her town.
We decided to test out in a small way how she would react to another dog on HER turf.
Opening one back door of the Tahoe I held onto Korys' leash.
LC opened the other back door and encouraged Copper into the Tahoe.
When Kory gets into the truck she jumps with one effortless, graceful bound.
And so I smiled as I watched this gangly, all legs and knobby knees hound dog, as she pulled and tugged and worked her way up into the truck.
Kory immediately jumped over the seat and into the very back of the Tahoe.
Copper half stood on the floorboard and half sat on the seat, unsure of where she was supposed to be.
Calling Korys' name I encouraged her to come back over the seat, so that they would be together in the same seat.
Only............instead of them sitting together, and instead of a growling power struggle (both of which we thought were possibilities), Kory crawled down onto the floor.
Curling up in a ball in one corner of the floorboard, she silently hid her head under the seat.
I looked down at my dog who suddenly looked so uncertain.
And that was it.
I couldn't do it.
WE couldn't do it.
We both liked Copper very much but we couldn't bring ourselves to bring her home.
We had agreed that Kory would be the one to ultimately make the decision of whether or not we got another dog.
If it wasn't good for her, then it wasn't good for us.
And looking down at our dog, who suddenly and silently looked so threatened, depressed and uncertain, we knew that it wasn't good.
Kory was fine being an only dog, and the center of our world.
She was fine with not sharing her home and her family with another.
We walked back into the shelter with this wonderful little girl, took her back to her cage, gently took the leash from around her neck, closed the cage and walked away from her.
I lay awake last night thinking about Copper.  About how thin she was and how she had been thrown into a drop box with a large wood sliver in her paw.  About an owner who looked us in the face and who lied to us.  About a sweet little knobby kneed dog who got to run and play in a yard.  Who sat for a treat.  Who let me rub her face and her ears.  Who scrambled up into a car seat thinking that she may be going to a new home.  Who we took back to a cage and walked away from.......................

A Dog's Purpose - From a Four Year Old

Author Unknown
 

Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife, Lisa, and their little boy, Shane, were all very attached to Belker and they were hoping for a miracle.

I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn't do anything for Belker and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.

As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for four-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt Shane might learn something from the experience. 

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away. The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion.

We sat together for a while after Belker's death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives. Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, "I know why."

Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation.

He said, "People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life -- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?" The four-year-old continued, "Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long."