Farm News 08-27-06

Sunday morning, after chores, 73°, raining


Pink Highways, Stone Presidents

Sioux quartzite is a common rock in this part of Kansas. It is red, hard, and is found here only as scattered rocks and boulders. Sioux quartzite is a gift from South Dakota, delivered by the last glacier. Sioux quartzite is to South Dakota as limestone is to Kansas.

When Sioux quartzite is crushed and mixed with cement it creates pink concrete. When it is mixed with asphalt it creates a darker pink material. So, South Dakota has pink highways, at least in the eastern part of the state. Western Iowa also has pink highways, and the rest areas along the interstate have wireless internet access. That is a pretty hard combination to beat.

Grandson Liam and I started from Oskaloosa, driving north on US-59 to St. Joseph, Missouri, where we turned onto north-bound I-29. Staying on I-29 we left northern Missouri and entered Iowa. At Sioux City we crossed over into Nebraska to go to the Lewis and Clark center, then back to Iowa and on north into South Dakota on I-29.

It amazes me that Iowa and Illinois both have neat, tidy, well maintained roadsides while Missouri, which is bordered by both states, looks like a dump. How can crossing an invisible political boundary result in such a change in appearance? Comparing high school graduation rates for 1998 shows Iowa has the highest rate, Illinois is 15th, Kansas is 17th, and Missouri 23rd. The rule that graduation rates improve the closer the school is to Canada doesn't seem to hold because Kansas is no closer to Canada than is Missouri. Nor does graduation rate seem to correlate with roadside tidiness, because Illinois is even tidier than Iowa. Nebraska, 4th in graduation rate, and South Dakota, 12th in graduation rate, are like Kansas, reasonably tidy. In South Dakota the roadsides tidiness is overshadowed by endless rows of billboards. Why would they hide such a nice state behind billboards?

Oh, well, it is a pleasant drive from the south eastern corner, to Sioux Falls, where one meets I-90, which stretches across the lower third of the state. Sioux Falls has a very nice park where the Sioux River falls over ledges of Sioux quartzite. A large army of Thirteen-lined Ground Squirrels, Citellus tridecemlineatus, scamper over the grounds cleaning up all dropped crumbs and tidbits. They work hard and are citizens, not illegal immigrants.


South Dakota apparently saves money by not posting speed limits. Several times we drove more than 50 miles without seeing a speed limit sign, even on the interstates. As the limits were varying from 55 mph to 75 mph, and I tend to drive at the speed limit, this was sometimes a nuisance.

We went west on I-90 to Mitchell, home of the famous Corn Palace. To be blunt, I thought it was without any artistic merit. Back on I-90, we continued west to Murdo where, after 159 miles in South Dakota and 652 miles of driving for the day, we stopped and spent the night at a Super 8, which, at $68.90, was too expensive. Still, we slept well. A beautiful old Packard Clipper Constellation was parked in front of the motel and more antique cars were parked in front of other businesses. I could see why the residents of Murdo liked their city, it was full of nice people. We looked at the old cars and then headed west again on I-90 in the fifteen year old Honda.

At Cactus Flat we turned south to loop through part of the Badlands National Park, which also had a large population of Thirteen Lined Ground Squirrels doing cleanup work. It appears to be all eroded gypsum, but not even the park rangers could confirm what kind of rock it was. I should have asked the Ground Squirrels, I suppose. We didn't spend a lot of time in the Badlands, but Castle Rock in Kansas is the same type of formations, with the same kind of rocks, I think. The Kansas display is much smaller but there aren't as many people, either. In fact, I've never been to Castle Rock when anyone else was there.

From the Badlands we rejoined I-90 in Wall, home of Wall Drug, which, like Paris Hilton, is famous only for being famous. From Wall we continued west and north through Rapid City to Sturgis, where we turned off onto SD-14A for Deadwood. Deadwood is a typical western tourist town with lots of gun-toting re-enactors walking around but few painted floozies. I went to the library and introduced my self as the Chief Fool of Oskaloosa and husband of the librarian. The librarian there was pleasant but not overly impressed with my credentials. However, I was able to send an email to my favorite librarian, so it was a worthwhile visit.

From Deadwood we went generally south on various unpaved mountain roads, giving Liam an opportunity to do some driving. The Honda has a stick shift, which, combined with the roads, gave him an opportunity for lots of experience in shifting up and down through the gears. We stopped at Mt. Rushmore, an interesting site but one which, having now been there once, I would just as soon visit in the future by looking at pictures.

After Mt. Rushmore we made the best part of the trip, the wildlife loop through Custer State Park. Ground squirrels, Prairie dogs, Raccoons, Pronghorn antelope, wild Donkeys, Mule deer, Elk , and Bison all came out to be seen. This is a mammalian adventure site, not avian. The wildlife loop increased my lifetime sightings of Pronghorns and Mule deer by at least 500%. I expected the wild Donkeys to be sort of scruffy and ill-bred, but was pleasantly surprised. There were lots of nice looking animals in the herds, well configured and healthy. If you want to see wild mammals, Custer State Park must be one of the best sites in the United States. I recommend it highly.

We finally left the Black Hills, traveling south on SD-71. The road started out paved, then changed to gravel. At the Nebraska border it changed to N-71, regaining paving, and we continued south to the Toadstool Geologic Area. We slept for a few hours at Toadstool and then continued our trip south. Before we reached I-80 in the south part of the Nebraska panhandle N-71 changed to four lanes with a wide median strip.

We took I-80 east to Sydney and then went south to Sterling, Colorado. From Sterling we went east to Holyoke, where we turned south to find our next destination: the Beecher Island Battle site on the Arikaree River. Alas, although there were signs taking us the the general location, we were unable to find a way to the actual site. I have been reading The Stalkers by Terry C. Johnston and, using his description, I think I was able to identify a few of the key locations, including the spot where the Indians prepared for their massed charges.

From the Arikaree we continued south to US-36, where we turned east and returned to Kansas. We continued east on US-36 to Wheeler, then turned south to Goodland and I-70. We went east on I-70 to Quinter, where we turned south on Castle Rock Road. About 15 miles south of Quinter is a clearly legible sign pointing east to Castle Rock. The drive up to Castle Rock is several miles east of Castle Rock Road and is clearly marked.

Castle Rock is out in a large pasture. Whoever owns the land is the kind of good citizen who makes an interesting natural feature available to the public. When the track through the pasture becomes becomes too deeply rutted, the cars simply move over and create a new track. This destroys pasture land, so allowing public access is not without cost to the owner. I don't know who it is, but, “Thank you.”

Castle Rock is a smaller version of the South Dakota Badlands. It is the same type of rock carved into the same kind of shapes. Castle Rock, though, is generally deserted. I have never seen anyone else there. It's wonderful to be all alone in such a landscape.

Liam had been wanting to see a rattlesnake on the entire trip, but we never found one. Castle Rock looks like a rattlesnake paradise, but not a one stuck its head out.

After Castle Rock we headed for home. We drove just under 2,000 miles on the trip, used 58.67 gallons of gasoline, for 33.9 miles per gallon, which cost $138.64 total for fuel. Not too bad, and it sure was fun.


How Dare They

The International Astronomical Union has arbitrarily removed Pluto's status as a planet. Kansans should be enraged by this. Clyde Tombaugh, the discoverer of Pluto, was raised in Pawnee County, Kansas. There are five towns in Pawnee County, Larned being the only one of any size. In most of the county one can stand outside at night, look up, and see a lot of stars. There is no bright glow from city lights obscuring the view, and the view is huge.

How can we show our displeasure? When we were unhappy with France we called french fries 'freedom fries', but there are no astronomical fries to rename. Perhaps we could begin a misinformation campaign, that being a very popular method of attack nowadays, claiming that the International Astronomical Union has Astrological tendencies. They removed Pluto from the list of planets as part of a liberal social engineering agenda, thinking that by eliminating Pluto as a planet they could increase the number of same-sex marriages.

Please write to your Senators urging them to condemn this world government plot to take away Pluto's rightful place in the list of planets.


Bucky is Sick

When I returned home Paula told me the buck goat was sick. I thought maybe something was wrong when I left. He looks fine, but he isn't eating and he isn't chasing Lucy, who is in heat. I started him on 2 ml. injections of antibiotic each morning and he seems to be picking up.

Gestation for a goat is five months, so if Lucy became pregnant this month she would have January babies, too early for comfort. Bucky's illness was well timed.

Farm News 08-20-06

Sunday morning, after chores, 70°




Tomatoes


Somehow, we ended up with a nice crop of beautiful tomatoes. The earliest ones all had blossom end rot, which is common in unusually hot weather. Then, despite daily temperatures of over 100° they began producing nice big tomatoes. They required one dusting of Sevin when the blister beetles attacked and a few horn-worms chewed on them until we picked them off and fed them to the ducks. Now the ducks have decided that if tomato horn-worms are tasty then tomatoes must be tasty, also, and are eating tomatoes.

This was not a year for green beans, a fairly rare sort of year. It's not just green beans, none of the beans are setting a crop this year. The neighbor's soybeans keep blooming but don't set beans. Too hot.

The Irish potatoes didn't do very well but the Sweet Potatoes look great. Of course, we haven't dug them yet so we don't know what is under the surface.

Generally, it hasn't been a very good year for vegetable gardening.

Back on the Road, Again


My Number 1 Grandson arrived on Friday. On Monday we are leaving for a trip through Nebraska and South Dakota. I haven't finished writing about the trip to the Continental Divide and I'm starting on another. Such is the condition of the modern world.


Book Report: Remembering Hypatia

by Brian Trent

Construction of the library of Alexandria was started in the 4th century B.C. and the library was in use early in the 3rd century B.C. It wasn't just a library, but more like a modern university, with a large museum, a zoo, laboratories, classrooms for up to 5,000 students, and offices for scholars. Alexandria was a Greek city, founded by Alexander the Great, with a population that was primarily Greek, although there were large Hebrew, Egyptian, and Persian communities.

For 800 years it served as the major repository of written materials in the world, holding not only the writings of scientists, but also the earliest versions of the New Testament, ancient Persian writings, some Chinese astronomical records, and ancient Egyptian histories. It held the original writings of Eratosthenes, who was named as head librarian in 236 B.C., and who showed that the earth was round and measured its size. It contained works which documented the function of the heart in blood circulation, works that showed that the earth and planets orbited the sun and accurately calculated the distances to the sun and moon, and the earliest copies of Homer's writings.

Hypatia was the last librarian of Alexandria. She was reported to be a brilliant, beautiful, and virtuous woman, dedicated to knowledge and understanding. She died when the library was sacked and burned by a mob led by Cyril, Archbishop of Alexandria. She was taken to the Caesarion, the principal church of Alexandria, laid on the altar, and skinned alive. That day is now considered to be the beginning of the dark ages. A thousand years would pass before mankind began to reclaim the knowledge that was destroyed in Alexandria.

Remembering Hypatia is a novel about the events leading up to that day. Although it contains many disconcerting anachronisms (references to tomatoes, for instance, which wouldn't make it out of the Americas until 1,000 years later), it does a good job of telling the story. Until Trent's book the only biographical novel about those events was Hypatia, by Charles Kingsley, which might be more historically accurate.


The story of Hypatia and the burning of the library are relevant to those of us who live in Kansas today. Cyril is reported to have said, “What will they do with mathematics, count the number of days of eternity while burning in hell?” Kansas is currently besieged by clergy who preach hatred and scorn knowledge. I don't think we are in any danger of entering another 1,000 year age of darkness, but neither did the scholars of Alexandria.

Cyril, by the way, is now St. Cyril, still recognized as a saint for his work in Christianizing Alexandria.

Scientific American Weighs In on Drugs and Mystical Experiences

See Magical Mushroom Tour, p.36, Scientific American, September, 2003.

A study has shown that two months after taking psilocybin, the active ingredient in the blue mushrooms, 79% of the subjects reported moderately or greatly increased well-being or life satisfaction, whatever that means. Warning: psilocybin mushrooms are not the ones with yellow to red patches on the caps, those are Fly Agaric and can be very poisonous.


Thank You

Thank you very much for your expressions of sympathy for the loss of Trusty. My hand is healing nicely with only a little swelling and tenderness left. I'm finally done with the antibiotics; Clindamycin leaves the nastiest taste imaginable in your mouth.

Tessie, the old Westie who used to guard the place, is too deaf and too blind to be much of a guard any more, she needs an assistant. This time I'm going to hunt for another small female terrier of some sort. Terriers were bred for years to be barn guards and, if you find a good one, it's hard to find anything better.

To subscribe, unsubscribe, contribute stories, complain or send a gift subscription, send an email to FarmNews@GeezerNet.com . The editor reserves the right to steal ideas submitted, rewrite submissions, and sign false names to them whenever it strikes his fancy to do so.

Farm News 08-13-06

Sunday morning, after chores, 78°


Cicada Songs

The season of cicada singing has arrived. This year we have only the annual species, Tibicen canicularis, in some areas called the Dogday Harvestfly. The various periodical cicadas around here appear according to their cycles, but this isn't the year for any of them. In 1998 the 17 year cicada made its appearance and produced a good year for fattening ducks.

The periodical cicadas have different broods in different parts of the country. The 13 year cicadas in Ohio might appear in a different year than the 13 year cicadas in Kansas. The 17 year cicada is the species with the longest period. I don't think there is a two year cicada, but there is a three year. Interestingly, all the periods are prime numbers, so there are three, five, seven, eleven, thirteen, and seventeen year cicadas. A while back we had two different periodicals happen to appear in the same year. If I remember correctly I figured it would be over 70 years before that particular pair would appear together again.

The annual cicada has dark eyes, whereas the periodical cicada has red eyes and isn't quite as large. They are all harmless, possessing neither stingers nor mouths. When they emerge they don't eat, they live only for sex, unlike adolescent male humans who live to eat and hope for sex.

Both males and females have structures called tymbals on their abdomens. Tymbals are, on the males, sort of loudspeaker type things. On females they are microphone type things. The males make the buzzing sound with their tymbals and the females hear the buzzing sound with their tymbals. Crickets and grasshoppers make noise by rubbing two body parts together, but cicadas have real sound systems.

Cicadas are arboreal ventriloquists. Stand under a tree with a cicada in it and try to find the insect. It is almost impossible to do it by tracking the source of the sound. Female cicadas can apparently locate the buzzing males, but not humans or ducks. Ducks locate cicadas by spotting them when, their ardor satiated, they fall from the tree.

Once a female cicada has located a male who gives the right kind of buzz, they mate and that is the end of the road for the male. He drops out of the tree to feed the ducks. The female cuts a little slit on the underneath side of a small twig and lays her eggs in it, then she, too, goes to feed the ducks.

When the larvae hatch they drop from the trees, burrow into the ground, and feed on the hair roots of trees for a prime number of years. Then the larvae emerge, climb a ways up a handy tree, and change into adults. Their skin splits down their backs and the adult emerges from the larval skin. When they emerge their wings are tightly folded and it usually takes several hours or more before they can fly. I watched the process some years ago with a friend and it took long enough for us to consume a bottle of scotch.

Once they can fly the head for the nearest tree, where the males get a buzz going and the females listen for for the male that sounds just right. Because cicada love is restricted to a single quickie on a tree limb, she doesn't bother to look for a keeper. The buzz is all she cares about.


Trusty, Ting, and the Coyote

Every morning Trusty has been in the habit of making a security tour of the place so that he could report that all was secure when I came out for morning chores. At the same time Ting would come out of the barn and catch a few bugs while they were still cool and slow. Wednesday morning started like most others, Trusty patrolling the yard and Ting catching bugs, when a coyote dashed out of the woods, snatched up Ting, and headed for the road.

Trusty, who was returning from his morning rounds, spotted they coyote with Ting in its mouth and gave chase. Morning traffic was starting to build but the coyote, with Ting, managed to make it across the road and into the ditch on the opposite side. Trusty didn't, and was clipped by a morning commuter and knocked back to our side of the road.

At about that time I came out to do chores and was surprised and concerned that Trusty wasn't there to give his morning security report. Then I heard him whimpering out by the road. As I walked out the drive a Sheriff's Patrol car pulled up and stopped by Trusty, who was lying just off the road about 50 feet east of the drive. I walked down to Trusty and saw that, although he wasn't bleeding, he was seriously injured, so I went back for the pickup truck.

I drove to where Trusty was lying by the road and parked the truck. The Sheriff's Patrolman had a carton of emergency paper blankets in his car and he spread one out to put Trusty on. I took Trusty's head and started to move him onto the blanket. Trusty snapped at me and sank a fang deep into the back of my right hand. So, the Patrolman brought a muzzle from his car and we muzzled Trusty, after which we were able to get him on the blanket and into the back of the truck. I hopped into the cab, spreading blood everywhere, and started driving to the veterinary clinic north of town.

It was about 7:45 am when we arrived at the clinic, and no one was there. At 8:00 a nice young woman showed up for work and told us that both vets were out of town for the day. After some telephone work the Patrolman found that the clinic in Meriden would have a vet available, so I turned around drove back home, which was on the way to Meriden, to pick up my billfold. I parked the truck and went around to the back to look at Trusty. I scratched his head and he took a last breath and died.

Damn! I liked that dog, even though he was way too enthusiastic about everything. I finished morning chores, noticing all the while that Trusty wasn't in the way and Ting wasn't there pecking at my ankles. Missing the dog was understandable, missing that damned chicken wasn't.

Butch, who lives a few miles down the road, now has two backhoes, a status in life that I could only dream about. He enjoys opportunities to show me just how helpless I can be at times just because I don't have even one backhoe. When I called him and asked him if he would dig a grave for my dog he was more than happy to bring his newer backhoe and do the job. We laid Trusty in his final resting place south of the pasture.

Finally, I was able to go into the house, wash all the blood off me, and put a bandage over the bite wound, which was still oozing quite a bit of blood. I knew Trusty had had his rabies shot, and I had received a tetanus shot within the last fifteen years or so, so I figured everything would be okay.

As the day went on, I sat around and felt sorry for myself because my dog was dead and a chicken I despised had been stolen by a coyote. Several times, I changed the bandage on my hand and each time noticed that my hand was swelling and turning red in the area of the wound. That seemed reasonable to me.

Paula came home at 5:00 pm, took a look at my hand, and said, “Oh, oh.”

She insisted I call the doc's office, even though it was after their normal business hours, and I knew that there wasn't anything wrong with my hand. Even so, I am well trained by now, so I called the doc's office. The phone rang a few times, and then someone picked it up and said, “Dr. S.”

I was in love. She had a voice that was like the fragrance of jasmine floating on the air. I started having visions of myself lying in bed while she caressed my forehead with her lovely fingertips. I tried to explain what had happened to my hand, feigning confusion and asking her to repeat everything two or three times so I could float on her lovely voice.

She seemed to be unaware of the true nature of my seeming confusion and simply prescribed a round of antibiotics. The local pharmacy was closed by that time, so I suggested that I would come into Lawrence the next morning to pick up the prescription. Dr. S. insisted that I start on the antibiotics that evening.

Paula insisted that she drive me to the pharmacy, and, well trained as I am, I acquiesced readily. By the time we reached the pharmacy I noticed that my hand was swollen much larger and the bright red area around the wound was now extending up my forearm. That didn't seem like a good sign to me, but, I was still in love, dreaming of oriental pleasures. By the time we returned home I couldn't pick up anything with my right hand, but I was still in love so everything was okay. I took the antibiotic and went to bed.

(The previous evening Paula and I had eaten Chinese and my fortune cookie said that I should be frugal for the next few days. The antibiotic cost $88.41. So much for frugality.)

It took a while for me to go to sleep but, finally, I drifted off. Thirty minutes later I woke up with a big bug crawling across my hand. I shook it off onto the floor and went back to sleep. Twenty minutes later I woke up to see a big bug, about four inches long, climbing up the window curtain. It disappeared and I went back to sleep, but every twenty minutes or so I would wake up and see another bug. Once I looked over the edge of the bed at a bug that had jumped off the curtain and saw a tiny bonfire burning far below. I unplugged the electric clock, which made the bonfire go away, and went back to sleep.

The next morning I got up early, still plagued with large bugs and occasional fleeting bonfires, and went out to do morning chores, but I couldn't find the barn so I went back into the house. Paula looked me over and said she would do chores.

By noon I was back to missing the dog and alternating between sorrow and glee that that stupid chicken was finally gone. My visions of languid oriental nights retreated and I again appreciated living with a woman who could both do chores and stroke my fevered brow. The redness had quit spreading and, although I still couldn't pick up anything with my right hand, the swelling was no worse. The only task left was to sit down and, mostly with one hand, type out the tale.


Dr. M. Goes Batty

Well, I’ve been in vet track for two weeks, and basically the Army has scared us silly of ever eating anything again. We spent the last two weeks in food safety and microbiology classes and for good measure a whole day of how food can deteriorate. That last class was in a lab, with examples. I’m surprised any of us are still eating.

So, with my newly free weekends, I have been exploring our local environs. This weekend, I made it up to Austin. Finally a place that I like! We had awesome Tex Mex, with killer Hurricanes. Then we explored the city and the very cool UT campus. But the best part was saved for last, the bats of the Congress Avenue Bridge in Austin, TX.

Bats, you say? Not just bats. 1.5 MILLION Mexican free-tailed bats (Tadarida brasiliensis). Only in August they have their pups with them so there are 3 million of them. This is the largest urban colony of bats in the world. The buzz is that the longways slits in the supports is the perfect home for them. At dusk they leave their concrete home and so many of them fly out that they can be seen on weather radar. They fly 100 miles round trip.

There are many places to view the bats. You can stand on the bridge, sit on the banks, or even sit in the parking lot of the Austin American Statesman building. But clearly the coolest way is to see them by kayak. The Texas Rowing Center rents kayaks, has a barbeque and leads you down the Colorado River to the bridge. Then you sit and wait. You can listen to some talented people play the banjo and the fiddle or talk to your fellow kayakers. Then the bats come out.

The bats sent out scouts first. I suspect these were the young whippersnappers that just couldn’t wait another minute to eat. They beeline down the river and then the rest follow making great long lines of flying mammals. The lines cross and make Xs then the bats break into clouds of darkness and fly off to eat 30 million pounds of mosquitoes. It’s amazing.

Over the Divide

The account of crossing the Continental Divide will continue next week.






 

Farm News 08-06-06

Sunday morning, after chores, 83°


Corn on the Cob

Tuesday evening we ate the first of this year's sweet corn crop. Ah! Delicious! It was Peaches and Cream, a bi-color variety with white kernels sprinkled among the predominate yellow kernels.

The first planting of sweet corn failed to germinate, so this is actually the second planting. We have had to water the corn a few times but, perhaps because of the weather, there are no ear worms or smut, a blue-gray fungus that attacks the ears.

My favorite variety of sweet corn is Silver Queen, a very old variety with white kernels. Silver Queen is a relatively long season corn, so if we had planted both Peaches and Cream and Silver Queen at the same time, the Silver Queen wouldn't be ready until fifteen days or so after the Peaches and Cream.


Spanish Fly Invaders


Blister Beetles are members of the family Meloidae, a bunch of nasty critters that cause blisters if you try to handle them. They are the source of cantharides, commonly known as Spanish Fly. They multiply at an amazing rate and love to eat red flowers.

We have had an explosion of the Blister Beetle population this year. The started on the tomatoes and then moved to the Hosta Lilies. By the time we noticed them that had almost defoliated the Hostas. A light dusting with Sevin killed them off. Good riddance.


How to Reach the Continental Divide


From northeast Kansas the quickest way to reach the continental divide is to get on I-70 and drive west for about 600 miles. I have done that a few times and can't recommend it as being a pleasant way to reach the continental divide. Some people think that time is money, even when on vacation, and thus take that route. Besides, there isn't anything to see in Kansas, is there?

I picked up John, an unemployed geezer, in Lawrence, got on the Kansas Turnpike heading southwest, and drove to Cassoday, a city of 127 souls. Cassoday is known as the Prairie Chicken Capitol, but we never saw a one. Nor did we see any of the 127 residents of Cassoday.

From Cassoday we drove east on N.E. 150th Road, a county road paved with gravel but with a relatively smooth surface. It was possible to drive 50 mph without tearing the tires off the car, so, at 40-50 mph, we drove into the heart of the Flint Hills.

The southern border of Chase County, the subject of Prairy Erth, by William Least Heat moon, is a couple of miles north of 150th Road. Cassoday is in Butler County and about 6 miles east of Cassoday we entered Greenwood County. This is tall grass prairie, although the grass seldom has the opportunity to grow tall anymore. Before cattle and horses came to these hills the grasses could grow up to eight feet high. Fires would sweep across the prairies and clear out all the trees and shrubs. Today the grasses are kept grazed down to less than a foot high in most places so that you no longer have to stand up on the back of a horse to see where you are going, but it is still treeless.

Ten miles east of Cassoday we passed the village of Teterville, population zero. There are no people living there, nor are there any visible indications that anyone has ever lived there. My kind of town.

About eleven miles east of Cassoday we crested a small rise and one of the great views of the Flint Hills appeared. The road in front of us sloped down into the East Branch of Fall River valley, a descent of a hundred feet or more. The far side of the valley was five or six miles away, and winding through the bottom was the East Branch of Fall River, only the protective border of trees visible. Not a single building intruded on the view.

So far, we hadn't seen a single Upland Sandpiper, Bartramia longicauda. They used to say of the Flint Hills, “An Upland Plover on every fence post.” (The Upland Sandpiper used to be called the Upland Plover.) The call of the Upland Sandpiper is a wonderful strange wolf whistle. We stopped every few miles and listened for a while, but never heard one call. I guess that is what happens when tall grass prairie is consistently grazed down to short grass.

About a mile east of Teterville, and a mile short of East Branch of Fall River, we came to the first cross-roads and turned south toward Lapland. Lapland, like Teterville, has neither residents nor any signs of former residency. If we had turned north we would eventually, after almost 50 miles, have come to Matfield Green, a village with 32 actual residents. To the south, though, Lapland was the only place marked on the map.

The 'map', by the way, is the DeLorme Kansas Atlas and Gazetteer, a 60 page book of detailed topographic maps. DeLorme publishes similar books for most states. About the only thing better are the USGS 7.5 minute quadrangles. The USGS maps do not necessarily contain more detail, but the are larger, easier to read, and have room for writing notes on the maps.

A few miles south of Lapland we came to the first 'low water bridge'. A low water bridge is actually a ford. The road dips down to a paved (hopefully) stretch over which the waterway flows. If the water level is low it is safe to cross. If the water level is high it is best to wait for a few days. The waterway is Oleson Creek, a dry, rocky channel that carries water only after a rain. No trees line it, just grass. The rocks are all tan Flint Hills limestone.

Two miles south we turned back east on a township road, rough, rutted, lightly graveled, with grass growing in the middle. After a half mile or so we came to another low water bridge, this one crossing the East Fork of Fall River. Again, the crossing was dry. A mile beyond this we came to a cross roads with another township road and turned south. Less than a mile later we were at the Hawthorne Ranch, a beautiful spot worthy of its isolation.

At the ranch we picked up Dave, also an unemployed geezer, who is devoting his time to making the ranch beautiful. He is making good progress. There are five Barn Swallow nests on the front porch, four of them started on their second brood of the year. The Bald Eagles nesting by the pond had already hatched and fledged their young and winged their way to Canada for the summer fishing and duck hunting. Dozens of Ruby-throated Hummingbirds ignore the feeders to feast on the nectar produced by masses of Scarlet Trumpet Vine.

We left at 1:20 pm, and slowly wound our way south and west on unpaved township and county roads, crossing the West Fork of Fall River on a real bridge, to finally reach US-54 six or seven miles west of Eureka. We followed US-54 west to El Dorado where we turned off onto K-254, which we took west through Towanda and Kechi to K-96, north of Wichita. On K-96 we went north west in the valley of the Arkansas River past Maize, Mt. Hope, Haven, Yoder, Elmer, Cropper's Corner, Hutchinson, Yaggy, and Nickerson.

At Nickerson we spotted a herd of camels, another herd of zebras, and a large number of ostriches. The wildlife in this part of Kansas is amazing.

A ways past Nickerson we turned west on County Road 80 and went past McVay's Corner and Kilbourn's Corner, where the road turned into a well worn trail through soft sand. After ten miles or more of sand the roads hardened and we entered Quivira National Wildlife Refuge, a large tract of marshlands and grassy sand dunes. We saw Ibis, whose beaks curve down, and Avocets, whose beaks curve up. Ducks, Herons, Stilts, and Sandpipers abounded, along with amazing numbers of White-tailed Deer.

We finally left Quivira and went north on soft, sandy county roads to Cheyenne Bottoms Wildlife Area where we saw more of the same wildlife as at Quivira, but in lesser numbers. North of Cheyenne Bottoms we came to K-4, which we took west through Hoisington, Boyd Station, Brownell and Ransom, where we stopped for fuel.

Here we began climbing up out of the Arkansas River Lowlands and onto the High Plains. We passed Arnold, Utica, Shields, and Healy, the landscape becoming flatter and drier with every mile. K-4 ended at US-83 and we turned north, traveling 45 miles to the next town, Oakley, where we stopped for a snack.

We had driven 365 miles from the Hawthorne Ranch, had a great trip, and were ready to cover some miles for a while.

We turned onto I-70 and headed west at 75 mph. Two hundred and eighty six miles later, at 1:20 in the morning, we were in Longmont, Colorado, at Raymond's house. Raymond is also unemployed, by the way. We were not yet at the Continental Divide, but we were almost close enough to see it. We had traveled 651 miles that day. It was time for the unemployed geezers to go to bed.

Book Report: Freakonomics

by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner

This is an interesting book that doesn't seem to go anywhere. It is full of fascinating accounts of chains of research and reasoning that produce conclusions such as Roe v. Wade resulted in a significant reduction in crime. It wasn't an attempt to justify abortion, it was simply a very clear, careful examination of the data.

If there is a point to the book, it seems to be that snap judgments based on prior biases do not necessarily yield truth. Careful science, along with ethical goals, should always be considered when making decisions about public policy


A Reader Writes

I was a researcher on/with some similar compounds [LSD, Ditran, Yohimbine, JB-132, and others], in ’67, at the Missouri Institute of Psychiatry [Univ.of Mo. funded], and so became very familiar with the ‘literature’ [scientific AND popular] on these things, and only want to dispute the part of this article that asserts that “there is no adequate language” to adequately describe these experiences - I want to dispute it because accepting that assertion continues the “mystification” of these experiences.

They ARE difficult to talk about in language that does NOT lapse into mystical or excessively scientific/hard to understand, BUT, if you are interested, the place to go is the work of Stan Grof. The experiences with these compounds, that experiencers have trouble finding words for, are what Grof calls COEXES - systems of condensed experience - very ‘compact’ complexes of memory traces. I’ll admit, the explanation comes CLOSE to being difficult, as you have to pick up a little understanding of something that comes CLOSE to Jungian psychology, but that may just be Grof training; but, I DO think he makes the experiences UNDERSTANDABLE.

A good point. Drugs don't make you see God, but they can put you in states where you might be convinced that you are seeing God. (By the way, She has green hair.)