October 27, 2024

How the Swiss Army Knife Will Hypnotise You

 

A few months ago, a veteran upland bird-hunter on Facebook asked people to list their favorite pocket knives. I have owned a few since I started carrying one at age 11 or whenever. Most popular brands have ridden in my jeans: Schrade, Case, Old Timer, Gerber, Buck, and so on.

But then one day I needed a knife -- apparently I had donated my last one to Amtrak -- and I picked up this Swiss Army knife that a friend had given me some years back. (He bought in Zurich, no less.) 

I own a Leatherman tool, and it's good, but where had this knife been all my life? Got a cactus spine in your hand? Get the tweezers. A wine bottle needs opening? The Leatherman won't do that ! 

When I posted a photo of it on that hunter's Facebook page, he deleted it. He is for some reason opposed to German pointing dogs, whether smooth or wirehaired, and apparently the Swiss knives are way too Mitteleuropäisch for him as well.

It's a good thing I did not mention that I hunt deer with a Mauser rifle. Or that I am now temporarily caring for a German wirehaired pointer. (How do you say "Miss Bossypants" in German?)

If you are a SAK owner, this video will help you to "level up." For instance, I did not know how to ise the wire-stripper notch correctly, mainly because there is an actual wire-stripper in my tool box. But now I see the trick to it.

Watching twenty or thirty of the "60 secret functions" has a hypnotic power to it. You may find yourself craving the color red and the mysterious, "useless" awl.

And if you don't crave one, respect "The Kind of Men Who Carry Pocketknifes." 

October 18, 2024

Watching Them Fly Away Is the Best Part



 
Most birds, when you release them into the wild, take off like rockets. Owls at night, hawks and songbirds by the day — all the same. 

Not this young red-tailed hawk. Yes, he came straight up out the box, brushing my face, but then he landed nearby. It's like it took a moment for him to realize there was nothing above him but the clear blue sky of southern Colorado's Wet Mountain Valley.

Another volunteer wildlife transporter had brought him to the Raptor Center early this summer. He had only minor problems, recovered successfully, and had been exercising in the big flight cage (a.k.a. flight barn), which is about two stories tall and . . . barn-sized.

Now he stood in the grass for a few seconds, then bounced up, caught the wind, and swung out in a low circle (the "line-control model airplane moment"), gained more altitude, circled past our Jeep and a county Road & Bridge truck (hawk life includes vehicles), and went where I knew he would go.

That was a large, mostly leafless cottonwood by a creek. He is only a dot in the video at the point, but when M. and I drove away, there he was, perched on one of the highest branches

I like to think that he was building a new mental map: mountains, creek, lake, forest farther away. Was he already scanning rodents with his 8-powered eyes?

October 02, 2024

Pot Creek: The Ruins of the Interpretation of the Ruins

Back in 2017, a columnist for the Taos News wrote about Pot Creek, the area's "best-kept secret archaeological site." It was not until earlier this summer, a mere seven years later, that I thought to check that out.

I had seen the entrance signage many times,  but I did not know that "For 25 years or so this little gem has been closed to visitors. But while still officially closed, the Forest Service turns a blind eye to eager curiosity seekers." (Yes, grammarians, that is a "dangling modifier." Evidently no one edited "Backpackerbill.") 

This is a site that was re-discovered by Luria Vickery in the early 1970s while doing work on an advanced degree in archaeology. In 1992 a Forest Service team, under the cultural guidance of a Picuris Pueblo representative Richard Mermejo, and a representative of Taos Pueblo, spent a considerable sum shoring up the remains of an ancient Pot Creek pueblo dwelling and kiva, making it available to the public.

It included a dozen interpretive signs spaced out along a hardened pathway with benches for contemplation at rest stops. The signs and benches are still there in surprisingly good condition after 25 years of neglect.

Back then, the Forest Service also developed a paved parking area with rest rooms, which sadly deteriorated beyond repair. A docent lived on the site at the time, providing information and guided tours. Of course, there is none today. Since then, the site has gone into serious neglect and has been closed for the past few decades.

Aggressive signage that the locals ignore.

Part of the problem may be a joint ownership of the site between the US Forest Service and Southern Methodist University, whose Fort Burgwin satellite site is nearby. 

I pulled in there, seeing one other vehicle (never met its occupant) and a barbed wire fence. It was easy to find the path along the fence that led to a break and to step through.

There was a map of the interpretive trail. It felt like something left by the Ancient Ones, although I could read it.

Marco the dog and I followed the trail. We walked through today's piñon-juniper forest through land that at one time was cornfield and dwellings and kivas. Few if any trees, most likely.

There are other Ancestral Puebloan sites like that in the hills south of Taos along NM 518. I was once walking one of the many "social trails" and came across a complete kiva, boarded over, with a very rickety modern ladder leading down into it.

A similar boarded-up kiva at Pot Creek itself.
I thought for a moment about exploring that other kiva, but then considered that if the ladder broke, I would be down there alone, and expecting a Chesapeake Bay retriever to punch 911 into a cell phone is expecting a bit too much.

But all was not static at Pot Creek. Forestry crews had been on-site quite recently, thinning the timber. Piles of juniper logs were everywhere — great firewood for somebody. Here they are paired with signage. Yeah, the "magic of juniper" would be in my wood-burner. Unfortunately, it is more than a hundred miles away

So clearly there is no money in the public-education archaeology budget, but there is money in the wildland fire-mitigation budget, and someone decided to spend some of that at Pot Creek, perhaps as a gesture toward preserving the site.

Finally the trail led to this parking lot, with vegetation slowly cracking the asphalt. Room for fifty or more vehicles, but none on that day. And the handrails were overdue to be repainted. 

The Ancestral Pueblo people who lived at Pot Creek abandoned it centuries ago. Maybe they were too vulnerable to incursions by mounted Comanche raiders and moved to either Taos or Picuris pueblos. 

Perhaps someday, someone will re-interpret the interpretive site: "This flat area, now thickly covered with pine duff, was once a gathering place for pilgrims who came to visit these more ancient sites. Excavations have revealed a layer of pebbles mixed with bitumen, possibly a ceremonial site or a site of athletic contests."

Or maybe the clash of bureaucracies can be resolved.

October 01, 2024

Six Years After the Spring Creek Fire

The Spring Creek Fire ripped through big parts of Costilla and Huerfano counties in southern Colorado in June-July 2018. Periodically I drive through one area because it's on my route to New Mexico.

A lot of (mostly summer) homes in this area survived — clearly because they benefited from retardant drops all around them. It sure changes the view from the old picture window though.

This photo is published in accordance with the Colorado Photography Act of 1964 (familiarly called the "Ektachrome Act"), which requires that all professional and semi-professional photographers in the state—essentially anyone who has ever sold a photo—shoot at least one full roll of slide film on scenic shots featuring golden aspen groves