Moose!

So- the title pretty much gives it all away- but let me tell you how it happened.

We'd been keeping the boat moored in Deep Creek Bay.  That way, we could just walk down to the river, climb into the boat and go for a ride!  It was especially necessary because Bruce's truck was being repaired, so we didn't have a vehicle to put the boat in and take it out, as we usually do. (A VERY good friend picked up the boat, and dropped it in the river for us, as it was an unbearably hot week, and the only way to beat the heat was to be on the water!)  But now, Bruce was heading out to a week of meetings, and we needed to get the boat out of the bay and home before he left.

Bruce borrowed a truck (thank you, Jim!) hooked up the trailer and headed down the road. That left me with the "job" of walking down to the bay, and taking the boat to the landing to meet Bruce! I definitely got the best part of the plan. 

It was evening, probably 8 pm, and the sun was hanging low in the smokey sky.  I was toodling along when I thought I saw something on the bank.  A stump?

 NO! It moved!

I slowed way down, and finally cut the engine and drifted towards the Bull moose.  He wasn't in the least bit disturbed.  He didn't even look at me.

 

He just kept munching away at aquatic grasses while I snapped photos.

 

In fact, it wasn't until I started the engine, and started pulling slowly away that he even deigned to look up.

 

Poor Bruce couldn't believe he'd missed seeing a moose- especially a BIG Bull! I'm a little worried he's going to make ME drive the truck and trailer next time! ;)

That's part of what I love about Montana. There's the possibility of an adventure around every corner.

Haying season

I thinking haying season might just be a cultural thing.  Everyone out West, or at least, everyone in Montana, Wyoming, Idaho, maybe a few other states besides, knows what is waiting after the thrill, and laziness of the 4th of July holiday.  Back-breaking, HOT, itchy, scratchy, WORK bucking bales! And if you're not picking, you're cutting hay, or baling it well into the night. It's an INTENSE, frenzied, whirlwind of a job for about 2 weeks- perhaps a bit more for the hay crews- and then, it's over. Done. The hay is in the barn, and you don't have to worry about it for another year.

But there's more to it.  A camaraderie that residents of other states may not understand.  When you're out in that field, bale after bale of fragrant hay stretching out in uniform rows, you hear the whirr of the tractors cutting and baling in the distance. You see the mountains framing the fields, and deer grazing in the freshly cut pastures. There's a peace around you- a timelessness in the work. You watch huge flatbed wagons pull in through the gates, with bright, strong youngsters leaping down to wrestle with the hay. You see the old timers still able to lift a bale in each hand, and sling them expertly onto the slowly moving trailer. Usually, there's a dog or two, plumy tails wagging as they roam over the land investigating smells, or jumping on the stacked hay for a ride- 

just as there has been for pretty much time immemorial. When you're driving your old truck down the road, and see an equally dented pick up coming towards you, you know where they are going, what they are doing, how they are feeling.... 

And this is how it was for us.  We got the call right after we'd finished picking up the debris from our home fireworks show.

 'Hay's cut. It'll be baled tomorrow. Come and get it.'

This year, we were at a bit of a disadvantage. Bruce's truck was in the shop, waiting for a new gas tank/fuel pump/and various repairs on the electrical system (don't ask!) so we hooked up our old trailer to our tractor, and down the road we went.

and it worked just fine.

Fortunately for Bruce and me (UNfortunately for Chelsey and Dan) our daughter and son-in-law were visiting. They just chipped in and helped- REALLY HELPED without us even asking!

We all took turns doing all the jobs- picking, stacking, driving tractor-

There's definitely a feeling of accomplishment throughout this job!

But picking is only the beginning. Because once you leave the field, you still have to stack all that hay in the barn.

 

 

This went on for several days...

Picking hay...

 

 Driving it back to the barn...

stacking it in the barn...

 

 

 

 

until, all the sudden...

we were done! 

ALL 6 tons of hay, maneuvered into place like a giant puzzle, waiting to be fed to some very curious, and appreciative mares!

 

and then, 

you find that you're not remembering the heat, and the sore muscles as being all that bad.

What you remember is the view...

the peaceful beauty...

the connection with ranchers, horse owners, and farmers down through the years.

 You remember the personal triumph, and sense of accomplishment, and the camaraderie of your hay crew. So, when it's time to do it again, you realize you don't really mind that much.

 

Haying season is a very special time of year. 

Once you've been through it, you never seem to forget it.