Sunday, November 21
Home and pigs

An early rising and quickly leaving, no not for a dawn balloon ride over the red rocks, but for a jaunt back across the mountain. Today was our own Rev. Tom’s 20th anniversary at our church; the temptation to join in the celebration was too much, so off we went and glad of it. It felt very good to share in the fun.

And . . . since we were over the mountain anyway, we stopped by home to feed and water the birds and pick up a few forgotten things. My fervent hope is that the added items don’t necessitate two trips to move out of here.

Not very happy making: the pig had returned while our backs were turned. A javelina has been visiting our abode, turning the new quail block into a nubbin and even rolling it down the driveway as he chews it up. For crying out pete’s sake, pig, pick up a hoof and hold it down at least.

This event would not be unusual if we lived in Prescott with an unfenced yard because the critters are everywhere about, but is a rarity in Chino. Unfortunately, in the process of creating a bird and wildlife haven, we have made it a hog heaven for the very few piggies in the neighborhood. In 35 years at this house, I have seen only three javelinas. This one makes the number four, but I have yet to actually spot this one, he being the sneakiest one of all. We have been victimized by one pig in the past 30 years and that one was also fairly recent. Wondering if they are one and the same. If so, he has altered his habits to avoid the wild woman who lives in my house - me.

After realizing that I was getting no assistance to encourage the last one to vacate the premises, I devised a plan of action that was successful, but only after extended effort. This is how I did it (understanding one has to see the animal in the act): Assemble items near back door - saucepan and wooden spoon (not anything with rivets). Glance out dining room window, spy javelina gnawing away at quail block with great abandon; snatch assembled weapons, throw open the door and tear out as rapidly as possible screaming at full lung capacity a sound that may resemble ancient warriors fighting for their lives; simultaneously running full speed toward the pig (pretending those long sharp tusks are not there); (this is time for multitasking) beat wooden spoon on bottom of sauce pan without ceasing (this is when it becomes obvious that a plastic handled riveted spoon is not up to the task because the handle immediately separates from the metal rendering it useless in light of those tusks one is racing toward); continue to run as noisily as possible toward the interloper, hoping that he drops his meal and turns tail before you get there, otherwise plan B is necessary. Haven’t devised plan B just yet.

Experience shows that the pig will run a short distance because he has been startled by wild woman, but unless the chase is continued, one has wasted one’s time. The bad news is that continuing the chase (please picture wild woman screeching guttural oaths while running full speed and pounding a wooden spoon on a metal pan) causes one to race past startled neighbors to whom wild woman cannot take time off to explain the mission. Thus it becomes a decision: do I care if the neighbors ever speak to me again or do I invite said piggie to live at my house. My decision was clear: it took quite a large number of screaming meemies to convince the javelina never to return.

And now I have another visitor. I surmise this is not the same one because he comes calling only at night, leaving me helpless to rid myself of him. I shudder to think that it is only a matter of time before he polishes off the quail block and begins rooting in my carefully tended gardens. Ah well, a challenge for when I return.

Hiking or not . . .

Weather-wise, this is being a not-nice week, causing most of our red rock viewing to be from our room windows or inside the car. If I were visiting here for a week from New Jersey, I would be inclined to bundle up and foolishly venture out for a daily hike; however, what I wanted was to get away for a spell and that is what I have done. I can drive over here any day I want when the weather warms and consider myself much more sensible.

Chris happily consoles himself by lolling on the bed watching the football game (this is a treat of the first order for him, being without television at home) while gazing at the magnificent spires of Cathedral Rock out the window.

Ancestors . . .

Being room-bound is not at all a bad thing when one has ancestors to keep one company. The intrigue of discovering whence I came has not only stayed with me for lo these many years, it has grown into some kind of mystical connection that I feel with all those who came before (oh okay, so it’s some kind of obsession that extends far beyond my forebears and to all of who and what happened to lead us to this time).

Chris and I have been extracting information from manuscripts and books we copied while on last year’s travel trailer trip. The amount of material we found at our various stops was huge enough that we are continuing a year later to assimilate it into our history.

When we discovered our Quaker and Huguenot ancestors of New Netherlands, we hit pay dirt. We followed them to North Carolina and visited their final resting places. We find that our families Dubois, Blanchan, Vernoy, Cool and others were Colonial settlers of great mettle and are remembered by many. A fascinating volume written by three other Dubois descendants who visited New Paltz, New York, in 1840 (260 years ago!) told of their horseback ride to those environs settled by our mutual ancestors. How I would have loved to make that journey with them (and how I would love still to visit that place)!

The Huguenots fled their homeland’s religious persecution and lived out their lives this side of the ocean, wresting a life from the wilderness, living with and at war with the Natives, being captured by and sometimes rescued from those whose land they invaded. Remnants of their endeavors exist yet, but better still to read the early histories and firsthand accounts of their daily lives.

In my imaginings of the difficulties of their lives, I conjure images of a veritable struggle to survive, constantly on the edge of hunger, striving to build and maintain rudimentary dwellings. And then I find accounts of incessant legal shenanigans indicating that our current litigious society doesn’t hold the proverbial candle to these Colonials. Seems there was nothing whatsoever that wasn’t appropriate for legal wrangling. One example of a multitude of instances: our Matthew Blanchan was sued for churning butter on the Sabbath. Methinks they might have been a bit lacking for outside distractions.

So there, I have lost myself in the past and care not that outside the room is cold and rainy.

Monday, November 22
Creeping

More family history charting, more fun, a bit of writing, but finally, one cannot stand the idleness any more. At home I would have been outside, inside, upstairs, downstairs a gazillion times, so find that I must hie myself out of doors. We pack up with snacks and coats without knowing a destination, at least so I thought, but Chris has a plan.

Normal people go for drives. I know this because occasionally I speak to normal people and they tell me these things. We, however, being abnormal evidently to a great degree, go for a creep. A creep is Chris’ version of a drive. It is effected in a vehicle, but a pace substantially akin to that of a six-month-old baby crawling across the living room floor.

In this case, the pace (or lack thereof) is necessary because Ruby is tiptoeing up a black-boulder-riddled path created by the eruption of House Mountain some time in the distant past, probably before ancestor Louis Dubois’ journey to our shores. With no goal set, we continue our creep upward until we have distant vistas set out before us in every direction. One can’t help but wonder just why we came to red rock country and then did our creep outside those incredible scenes. The high slopes on which we find ourselves are beautiful in their own way - wild, cactus-filled and surprisingly carpeted with small yellow flowers.

When I finally put my foot down about this torturous climb, we turned our noses to lower elevations and more pleasant outing weather. A jaunt down to the old V Bar V Ranch, now a public place of interest netted us a most pleasant afternoon. A fascinating place, both for its Anglo history and the amazing array of petroglyphs carefully guarded on a creek-side cliff. Touted as the largest rock art sites in the Verde Valley, the pecked-into-the-rock-face images are said to have been created between A.D. 900 and 1300. The Houston couple who now live at the site were as nice as could be. She mans the visitor’s center while he acts as guide and interpreter at the petroglyph site, which is accessed by a lovely hike along the creek bank.

In my past life as administrator of Yavapai College’s lifelong learning institute, I sent busloads of folks over to an annual celebration at this heritage site, but had never been myself, even after living so near to it. All in all, a super place to visit.

Leaving there, we did a bit of a scout elsewhere along the creek and enjoyed the autumn colors and the relief of being outside.

While out and about this day, we get a few common birds, including raven, common grackle, ruby-crowned kinglet, western scrub jay, western bluebird, dark-eyed junco, black phoebe and white-crowned sparrow.

The bad news upon returning was that the pump on the spa was kaput, a situation learned only after suiting up, swaddling ourselves in pool towels and trooping over there in the cold dark. Big bummer there, made me want to drive home to our very own hot tub, but somehow a three-hour round trip for a 20-minute soak seemed a little over the top.

Tuesday, November 23
Birding & more

We awaken to continuing dull gray skies and cold. At least it is no longer raining. No worries: stay in and work on various projects. If we get any more relaxed, we will have to begin calling our first meal of the day “brunch” instead of “breakfast”.

Because of a query from Eric about how many bird species we have identified at home over the years and because consolidating that information had been on my “to do” list for ages, I brought my birding folder with me and we set about getting that information into a coherent form.

We have been keeping a yard list only since 2007 and have been away for extended periods during those four years. We did include a few notable birds that we got before 2007, but the list is primarily since then. After spending quite a bit of time typing them all and Chris alphabetizing the list and removing duplicates, we were astounded to come up with an even 100 species - surprised at the large number and more surprised at the even number that sounds as if we are making it up. I certainly did not expect it to be that high; certainly we do not spend inordinate amounts of time attempting to identify birds on our place, nor do we do much away from the feeders area; I am certain we have missed many more that I have heard but never identified.

We also keep lists of birds identified on various jaunts near and far and enjoy being able to pursue this pastime everywhere we go. The Costa Rica trip of course was a bonanza of new birds. We thought the same would be true of Greece, but an unfortunate occurrence there put a stop to that when we laid the expensive Greek bird book down at an interesting ruin site and failed to retrieve it. It was after that I determined to purchase a field guide bag in which to keep the bird book.

Glad to finally have my yard lists consolidated, I am inspired to move on to my long-delayed life list. Hope I can keep that resolve after I return home.

The Earps, Big Nose Kate & Doc . . .

Thanks to Vicki and Richard, I now know loads more about the Dodge City/Tombstone/Prescott clan than I did before. They have sent me a couple of articles that Richard researched and wrote for the Courier that answered lots of my questions and meshed well with the research that I had done.

Evidently, that is about all I will find out via email for a while because the wifi here has gone kaput. Promises that it will be fixed have gone unfulfilled; my short blog has become much shorter.

Rowdy, touring, movies . . .

Since starting Rowdy on his medicine, we have watched for signs of either intolerance or improvement. We thought at first that he wasn’t going to be able to continue on it due to upset tummy. One wonders how one would detect some of the other side effects, such as aching joints and sore muscles. As Leslie notes, it would be so much easier if pets would just hack up their symptoms as easily as they do a hairball. At any rate, we seem to have moved beyond the stage where we wonder if he isn’t looking just a bit perkier to the “Yippee! He’s really getter better!” level. Still weak but definitely on the mend.

Not braving the continued inclement outdoors, we pretend to be normal people and go for an actual drive on an actual road. The lighting is wonderful, the scenery sublime. We stop for several look-sees and photos. Each time, we are reminded of how clever we are to be auto touring at the moment instead of hiking as we shiver in the wind.

Javelina Cantina, forebears . . .

Our only dine-out of this journey is a lunch stop at the Javelina Cantina (sounds like what I am operating at home). Somehow, Chris remembered that we had eaten there way back with Norma and George and that we had liked it. Well, we still liked it - food great, atmosphere dandy, views to die for and good service.

A fun happening during lunch: a group of women was there celebrating two of their members’ birthdays - 97 and 99. It was irresistible to me; we had to stop by their table to wish them each a happy birthday. It was fun to share in their party for a moment.

With impeccable timing, we arrive at the movie theater to see “The Next Three Days”, which turns out to be a long and wildly suspenseful flick. Great acting by Russell Crowe (of course) and the entire cast (I disremember who any of the others were). Highly recommend.

Best business name: Knit Wits