The Bullhead

Tales from the Backyard…About three miles from the farm there was a small creek where we would go fish for bullheads.  I remember one day catching one about 2 inches long and decided I would make it a pet and so started to carry it home.  They can live for hours out of water.  To walk that far alone I must have been six, as we moved shortly after that.   Bullheads have sharp painful spikes at the ends of their pectoral fins so you have to be very careful holding them and not squeeze or they will extend their pectorals and jab you, which has some painful bacteria and the pain lasts for hours if not days.  I remember making it all the way to the yard and in my excitement to show my mom, I squeezed too hard and it jabbed the stinger into my palm, god that hurt, I threw it down and killed it with a stick.  My hand hurt for days.

Chilkoot Trail washout

Tales from the Backyard…  One summer at Klondike we had this hellascious storm that had dumped 6” of rain over 2 days.  The Chilkoot trail was a mess.  The rangers had reported that almost every bridge had been washed out, there were over 100.  I amassed the entire trail crew, along with my preservation crew and hired several of the locals to head to the back country and begin the arduous task to make the repairs.  The crews were split in half, one to work the length of the trail, making repairs as necessary as they went and the other to work on our largest bridge, which was 110 feet long, it being totally washed out, the river actually had been diverted.  The crews stocked up and off they went.  I kept in touch via radio.  Early the next week, the rangers had scheduled a helicopter to resupply the Ranger station so I asked if I could be dropped off at mile 13, the big bridge.  When I arrived, the crew of 13 just stood and watched as I landed and got out.  They were tired, dejected and suffering from lack of sleep from the 18 hour days, but worst of all they were demoralized and had lost sight of the task at hand.  No one was in control.  The amount of work they had already accomplished was phenomenal, having built all the new log and stone filled cairns in the river and had cut all the trees for the walkway and supports (the design is kind of Burmese style).  I assembled them and complimented them on what they had done so far and then assigned the various tasks left to be done and sent them out.  By the end of the day they had completed the bridge just as the helicopter came to pick me up.  As I lifted off I looked down and they all were just staring up at me leaving and from the looks on their pride filled faces,  I thought as I flew away  of them thinking, “Who was that man?”, and later learned that that is exactly what they were thinking.  My thanks to you all for a job well done.

Nibbles

Tales from the Backyard…  My wife had a cat named Nibbles and one year we made our annual trip back home to see the folks and upon our return, found her sick and dying.  She was 20 or so, so we made a bed for her in our bedroom so she could leave in peace.  I went to check on her later in the day and found our daughter Heather (2 ½) sitting beside her, reading.  She had gathered every book she owned and was reading them one at a time.  I had that on tape, but somehow I misplaced it.  When Anna died, Janice had her cremated, the ashes to be buried by the crematorium.  One day as we were driving up the Saw Mill Pkwy, I said “that must be where they buried Anna”  “Where” she replied.  I said “Didn't you see the sign”  “No” she said and I said, spelling out the letters “D U M P”.

The Pine Martin

Tales from the Backyard…  One year the Regional Chief Biologist asked me if I would assist him while he did sampling of the lake (Crater Lake).  Why he didn't ask our park biologist I don’t know, of course I accepted.  While we were rowing along the lake shore we spotted a Pine Martin chasing a red squirrel along the rocky shore and up into the trees they would go, down the other side and over the rocks again to another tree and round and round they went until it was as if one said “Time Out” and they both stopped.  The squirrel was facing down the tree and the Pine Martin facing up, their noses almost touching.  Even from where we were we could see their chests heaving in and out trying to catch their breath.  Then it was “Time in” and off they went round and round again.  We just sat and watched as they must have done this for close to 3/4 an hour, repeating the “Time Out/In” process on different trees until the squirrel decided he had enough and ran into a hole.  The Pine Martin, feeling outwitted, hung his head and left.  I often wonder if this is a game they play every day or if it was a onetime thing.  A game of life and death to be sure for the squirrel.

The Black Snake

Tales from the Backyard…  A friend from Nevada  ( Tony), whom I was in the service with, came to visit us in the park and, as he was an avid fisherman, I told him I had a spot which might prove fruitful.  Klamath Lake is known for some monster trout, I mean in the 10-20 lb class.  We arrived at the lake and scooted over and down the rocks to the lake-shore.  I handed him a lure which I said they were hitting on and he began casting.  He shortly got the lure hung up on the rocks by his feet and reached down to extricate it when a huge black Water Snake of about 5 feet long shot out right by his hand.  He cleared the ten foot bank with ease.  Coming back he hooked into something really big and after a long fight, lost it at the shore.  The look of disappointment on his face I can still see.

Blue Crater lake

Tales from the Backyard…  Like a Geico commercial, “Did you know Crater Lake was not always blue”?  As Paul Harvey used to say; “And now, the rest of the story”.  In 1974 our stupid Superintendant decided he wanted a port-a-san at the bottom of the lake trail and could not be convinced otherwise.  Maybe he thought that people would want their picture taken at one of the world’s greatest vistas, standing in front of a Port-a-san, who knows.  So Ken and I started to make the arrangements by hiking to the bottom and surveying a good spot which was out of sight of the trail and the boats which took you around the lake.  Being solid rocks at the bottom the next step was to build a platform for it to sit on that was accessible but still out of sight of the trail hikers.  A few weeks later we had built a beautiful deck and when we put the port-a-san on it, sitting there you could see the whole lake through the doorway, a real kings thrown.  Unfortunately, in the fall we had to go down and empty the contents into containers which then had to be carried out by hand, the 1 mile hike to the top.  No small job, but we had plenty of help from the trail crew for the process.  I poured a little more water in the tank and made sure everything would flow out the valve under the toilet while Ken got things ready underneath.  The outflow had a single open/shut valve; you pulled it open and pushed to close.  With buckets ready, Ken pulled on the valve, the whole thing came out in his hand knocking over the bucket and before we could rectify the problem, the Port-a-san was empty.  So now you know why Crater Lake is blue.

Grounded

Tales from the backyard…Our neighbors, the Thurnbecks, had kids my older sibling’s age.  They would go over and play and I would tag along.  One day they were watering something; I don’t know what and would collect the water in buckets from a faucet at the side of the house.  I wanted to help but was told not to touch a bare wire which was close to the faucet.  This wire was a ground wire for the TV.  I had accidentally touched it once and nothing happened, but the next time my hand was on the faucet and that’s where I stayed, glued to both the faucet and the wire and could not release from either.  I yelled and yelled for help but every time someone would touch me, they would get a shock and then Mrs. Thurnbeck thought to unplug the TV and I was saved.  It had no ill effects other than burning a hole through my thumbnail and maybe my memory brain cells got fried, I can’t remember.