Hangin' with the elk

I bought a couple of Groupon deals, even though I temporarily swore off them some time ago. I am just more careful about what I buy. One was for a tour of an elk farm that is about an hour away, and the other for miniature golf in Tualatin. I bought enough for a small crowd, so off we went on Tuesday.

Annie was at the tail end of a week here with her baby, Victoria, so be prepared for unending sweetness.

The elk farm is called Rosse Posse Acres. The tours are only $5 a person, and half that with the Groupon. The owner seemed very happy with the business that Groupon has brought their farm, so yay for that!

First up was a fun and educational lecture in the barn. We got to handle some elk antlers and other body bits, and read about the individual bulls.

I noticed, after a while, that Daniel was acting a little pouty  sad, and Bethany informed me that he was missing the water polo day of his swimming classes. Which explained it.

I could only con two of the darlings to pose for me.

Extra points for Kenz and Thomy.

The antlers of the bulls are proudly displayed on the wall. They are sawed off each year as soon as the velvet falls off, to forestall any murderous inclinations. Which are likely to happen, apparently.

Mamas and babies are kept in their own field.

Funnily enough, the girls of the family had been discussing community breastfeeding a couple of days earlier, and here is an example of it. Whenever a baby starts to nurse, another one or two will sneak up and have a nibble. This means that babies that are born later in the season tend to be runts, as they lose some of their milk to their friends.

The yearlings, who will face the butcher next year.

The bulls, who are named and measured for genetic characteristics and generally treasured.

The velvet on their antlers is full of nutrition and is eaten by the elk or other critters. When antlers fall off in the wild, they are also eaten by critters as a source of calcium.

There is a petting zoo on the farm and the kids (and a few parental types) enjoyed the animals.

Popcorn (gender unremembered) the baby goat was a big hit.

Popcorn's mama was probably too old to bear another baby and isn't doing well.

Kind of like how I felt after my last baby.

The wallaby was very friendly.

Daniel, still looking sad and not enjoying the animals.

The owners also breed miniature Schnauzers. 

They were more of a hit than the elk.

I made the mistake of handing over the camera when I held Victoria.

Daniel still looking ambivalent.

Next on the agenda was golfing at Tualatin Island Greens. 

I like this little course much better than those at amusement parks. It has trees and real green grass and a little stream running through it. And, while there were people in front of us and behind, we didn't feel crowded or hurried. And there is a nice clubhouse where you can take a load off and enjoy the air-conditioning.

Sweet little curls, cheeks, ears, dimply arms. Gets me every time!

Daniel was much happier playing a sport.

So, if you're local, I highly recommend both activities for an end-of-summer fling. 

And I also recommend that you take along something adorable like this.

Feel free to be jealous.

Snippets from the Ranch

Sunsets are always a delight out at the Ranch, especially on the days of unremitting heat when we are forced to run the noisy old window air-conditioner. The temperature cools down rapidly once the sun hits the horizon, and we gaily open all of the windows and fine-tune our bodies for every breeze that wafts into the house.

There were thunderstorms in the mountains on Friday and I sat and watched the lightning flickering in the clouds and listened to the thunder.

Unfortunately, the lightning strikes of last week (1,900 in twenty-four hours, according to one news report) have caused forest fires and one tree faller who was  helping fight the fires was killed by a falling tree snag. 

The air has been smelling faintly of smoke and the sunsets colourful and hazy.

I caught the sun as it was hanging on the edge of the mountains.

And it's gone.

The moon was large and orange a couple of weeks ago. 

I discovered the difficulty of capturing the moon at dusk.

We've had a few visitors to our little abode lately. 

Some of them were invited.

Some of them weren't.

They helped themselves to our flowers anyway.

Remember the poppies?

They are all dried out, so I spent a pleasant interlude on Friday morning (when I wasn't watching lightning or deer through my front window) collecting poppy seeds. I got a cupful without much effort at all.

I spend some time, almost every day that I am out here, pulling Russian thistle, the local incarnation of tumbleweed. A few weeks ago, I pulled up a particularly large one and found this nasty bug among the roots.

I put it in a large cup with some dirt so that I could show the kids when they arrived for their week of camp, but lucky I took a photo because when we went to look at it, someone (or something) had knocked over the cup and the bug was nowhere to be found.

Now I am wondering if another critter ate it.

The fun never ends out here at the Ranch!

We are still intrepid. Well, sort of.

Let's go on a hike today, I said.

Okay, he agreed.

That Steelhead Falls trail looks pretty easy, I said. Only four miles round trip.

Well, the hiking guide said "moderate", and "take hiking poles and wear sturdy shoes and be prepared for a boulder field and steep trails".

But, what the heck, we are seasoned hikers and "moderate" sounded easy enough.

By the time we lazed around on this beautiful morning, did some laundry, ate brownies and cookies for breakfast, went to the farmers' market by the fire station, and finally arrived at the trail head, it was almost noon. A little bit warm. But we were intrepid (which I have decided is tied closely to "ignorant", "naive", and "clueless") and off we went.

The beginning of the trail was easy enough.

The vistas were spectacular.

I was leading the way along what I thought was an obvious trail, but after a bit of back-tracking to find the real thing, Jeff pointed out what should have been obvious to me.

Trail markers.

Things went a little better after that.

For a while.

I ignored the gullies left by water in the springtime, which certainly looked like trails to me.

We knew we had to descend this cliff somehow.

A few more back-tracks and Jeff decided it was time for him to lead the way.

The situation started to look a little precarious.

If you know Jeff and me, we are slightly inclined to be disaster-prone on escapades like this.

It was getting to be mighty hot, and we appreciated the rocky overhangs and occasional juniper tree.

We wondered what lived in these holes.

It is a different beauty over here in the high desert, and the rivers are solace to the soul.

I think this is a ponderosa pine, which is pretty unusual in these parts.

Um, yes, this part of the trail was a little daunting. Narrow and precarious.

In fact, it doesn't really look like a trail at all, does it?

Back on stable ground, we were happy to see this old beaver dam.

I doubt this trail is navigable in the spring, as the bullrushes were growing about ten feet above us.

Suddenly, the trail seemed to dead-end in a bunch of boulders.

Oh yeah.

Boulder field.

So this is what the guide was talking about.

Want to see what a boulder field looks like from the other side of the river?

There ya go.

Only the one on the other side didn't have as much vegetation mixed into the equation.

We became trepidatious, rather than intrepid, and made out way s-l-o-w-l-y over the boulder field, which rather reminded us of the ill-fated Mt. St. Helen's climb. The trail was almost non-existent and we were second-guessing ourselves most of the time, wondering why we had ever begun this hike at all. 

I am pretty sure that this is where a woman had to get life-flighted out of the canyon earlier in the summer when she put her hand on a rock without looking and got bitten by a rattlesnake. I told Jeff that I will never judge anyone for that again. 

We finally got through the boulder field and concurred that we would never attempt this hike again.

And that we would not return the same way. 

Things got much better after that, except for the heat. 

I decided that, considering that we saw no other people on this trail, that we were the only ones stupid enough to hike it on this hot afternoon.

Jeff tried to coax me into joining him, but I decided not to tempt fate.

Supposedly, the trail to Steelhead Falls was only two miles long, but it was starting to feel much longer. I suspect I was suffering from a bit of heat exhaustion, as Jeff had insisted I wear jeans because of rattlesnakes. 

Now, my question is, will a rattlesnake bite through denim? 

Maybe skinny jeans weren't the best solution.

He also advised me to beat the bushes and rocks as we forged through them, warning the rattlesnakes that we were coming so that they could run away, which bit of folklore I'm not sure I believed.

Anyway, every time we turned a corner, I expected to see a waterfall.

And, finally, we did.

And there was much jubilation!

Large trees growing out of rocks are cool.

Apparently, the local kids like to jump off the rocks into the water, although it is discouraged because of the danger. Which probably only makes it more appealing to the younger set.

Here is the river above the falls.

We decided to take the half-mile trail to a closer parking lot and the plan was for Jeff to walk back to the first lot and get the car, as I was exhausted.

I sat on a rock in the shade of a tree and Jeff started up the gravel road. A few minutes later a man and woman (to whom we had spoken earlier) came into view and told me that we should have probably gone back the way we came, boulder field and all, as it was about three times as long again to go back on the road. I must have looked crestfallen, because he told me not to worry, that he would take care of it. 

He and his friend left in his red pickup truck and there I sat, hoping that they would find my intrepid man.

I sat and contemplated my dusty hiking boots.
Thanks, Barb, they served me well today.

And about thirty minutes later, along comes Jeff in his trusty Sebring. Turns out it was about ten miles back to the car. Gulp.
And thank you, Jeff Davis, who lives just down the road from us (as it turns out) for being our saviour today.
You know, I fully expected to be saved by someone today, and my faith was fully justified.

And after we got home and showered the dust from our tired bodies, I decided that we survived the trail quite well, and that some cooler day we might try it again.
Because we are intrepid that way.