Guest Posts on County 10 are provided by contributors and the opinions, thoughts, and comments within are their own and may not necessarily reflect those of County 10.
I hear a lot of complaining about the limitations of living in Wyoming. After slightly over four decades of listening to the whining of two generations I’ve heard just about all the reasons that young people can think of to slam their hometowns and dream of the glorious life waiting for them in some metropolitan area. Call it angst or something else, but these kids just don’t have the maturity to enjoy what surrounds them.
One of the many things I look forward to with the change of the seasons are the return of migratory birds, and the often prominent nests of our local avian residents. For the last few seasons while covering the Riverton Legion Raiders at Roy Peck Field I’ve looked to the center field lights for an osprey nest. This year she moved it over a couple of poles to left field. The location didn’t matter, what I enjoyed, and was thrilled to see was the boys commenting on was the arrival of the nesting pair with fish in their talons for the hungry chicks at top of those light towers.
I witnessed the same thing a few years ago at the Wyoming Indian track. I was walking with my track team onto the facility at Ethete when I spotted my friend Chico Her Many Horses setting up the concession stand. I went over to talk to Chico just as an osprey flew over with a fish in one of its talons. The bird flew into its nest high atop one of the aluminum light towers surrounding the Chiefs football field.
“They’ve been up there all spring,” Chico said. “We can’t clear out the mess until they’re through nesting.”
A mess it was. A pile of sticks swaying high atop the tower in the face of a steady northwestern wind offered a few stray twigs. The track was a mess for another reason. Fish entrails and bird droppings littered the track underneath the pole. I could tell that the most common species these two birds were catching were brook trout from the nearby Little Wind River.
It was an inspiring sight. Some would even call it an omen of fortune to come. I don’t go much for omens but the Ethete scenery, combined with the crisp spring air held enough promise for me.
It’s tough to see the beauty around you when the phony world of Hollywood and social media beckon with promises of quick, easy money, and a glamorous lifestyle. If you never look up from your cell phone the world will sail by unnoticed.
It is an interesting paradox. As you grow older and your time grows shorter, you take more time to see and enjoy the things that interest you. If you don’t you just get stuck in a never ending spiral of work and worry. Give me an eagle in the morning sun anytime, or in this case a blazing fast fish hawk.
It’s tempting to read human motives and emotions in an animal’s actions. If this were true the osprey must have gotten a great laugh later that morning when it dropped half of its breakfast on the track next to a group of 5th and 6th grade girls at the high jump pit. Screams of “gross!” echoed across the infield. One of the boys ran over to look and came back to tell me it was nothing big, just half a brook trout and some fish guts on the railing next to lane eight.
Few towns in Wyoming are exempt from the approaches of wildlife. Hard winters drive them into towns and the local football field is always a popular spot to bed down.
There was a small herd of antelope that used to winter on the Shoshoni football field. On occasion I would spook them when I opened the locker room early in the morning for junior high track trips. A pronghorn exploding by you at 60 mph just as the sun rises is a much better wake-up than all the coffee you can chug.
An up close and “personal” encounter came early one morning as we packed before dawn for a meet in Dubois. The kids were loading up on the bus. I walked across Harold Bailey Field to the combination crow’s nest and equipment shed to get some starting blocks.
On the way back across the field I had a strange sensation. It felt like something was out there with me. By the dim glow of the porch lights on the homes north of the field I spotted the outlines of large animals. It was the pronghorn herd. They spooked just as I realized they were there. Crashing by me at sprinter speed I braced for the inevitable hit, but they missed me, raced towards the school and ran across the highway.
One of the boys said to me as I returned to the bus, “Hey coach, did you see the speed goats?”
“Yes, I did,” I replied.
Legendary Wind River and Morton High School track coach Leroy Sinner had a ritual for his team each spring on the old 330-yard track at Morton. During the first week of practice Sinner had the boys pick up the branches, trash and tumbleweeds that collected on the field during the winter. In 1973 there was a little extra cleanup. A herd of feral horses had wintered in the hills just above the Morton school and they left a field full of their calling cards. Not many places in America begin track season with rakes, shovels and wheelbarrows.
I looked up from my classroom window one day in Shoshoni and glimpsed a moose running down the highway. Antelope are one thing but moose aren’t indigenous to the desert plains surrounding Shoshoni. I went outside and watched as it darted through the gas pumps at the Fast Lane and headed west toward the causeway. A Wyoming Game and Fish truck followed closely behind. I’d venture a guess that this type of event never happens in Los Angeles, Chicago or Atlanta.
A more serious threat is found in the High County. Last spring a grizzly wandered into Dubois. We like to consider ourselves the apex predator, but as a guy who has come within a couple hundred yards of a grizzly in the wild, with just a fishing rod for protection, we’re not even close.
Mule deer in Dubois are as common as squirrels in Riverton but it was always a thrill to see them look down from the hills above the old field, or graze in the hay field east of the new Rams stadium. A close look at the grass in Dubois tells you they graze on the field as well.
In the 1970’s when Wyoming Indian High was still located at the St. Michael’s Mission complex a herd of buffalo grazed behind the school. It was a general belief that the bison herd belonged to the school but I never found out for certain. They did make a beautiful backdrop.
We are closer to nature here than nearly anywhere else on earth here in the Wind River Country. You don’t have to hunt or fish to enjoy the wildlife surrounding us, but you do have to take the time to notice