The Coldest Day and The Hottest Day

A Harmless Loon

She sat me down with measured frown
to pet my full attention
her brows were knit, her pupils lit
with flames of ill contention

A troubled sigh was followed by
a question of my worth
and how to train my feeble brain
unused since time of birth

My faults are few but how they grew
when teamed with female wiles
that probe the id and soon get rid
of unresponsive files

Wherein my life has dealt with strife
performing a charade
that spells buffoon, a harmless loon
who failed to make the grade

Well hell, my dear, you've naught to fear
I rarely show my face
or flaunt my name to cause you shame
and bring unjust disgrace

Please trust in me, I'm sure you'll see
I've finally come to grips
with slothful ways that mar your days
as brandy nears my lips

Why just tonight I feel so bright
my thinking is much quicker
we must construe that this is due
to spirits in hard liquor

Thundermug 2002

Where Danger Lurks

Two creatures I won't tangle with
in slumber or awake
a miner with a hangover
or a sunburned rattlesnake

Needle Teeth

One must respect the weasel
and grant it a wide berth
a weasel kills in sheer delight
and fears nothing on this Earth

Thundermug 2002

The Coldest Day

The coldest short period my body has been exposed to was on Cebolla Creek in January of 1994. We had fifty head of Cadwell ranch cattle on upper facilities of our ranch and keeping water holes open for them was an early morning chore I had solved by making small, temporary dams with ice that I barred loose on a bend of the creek with slow moving water.

It was approaching 20° below zero with an ever present wind on this day as I took bar and shovel to the ice with cattle strung out waiting for their first drink of the day. It went well in spite of the cold and I had only one block to maneuver to partially check the stream and raise the level of the water to where three or four cows could drink at a time.

The ice was slick from a new snow and I was on my hands and knees with the shovel pushing the one remaining block into position. The block rolled, the shovel skated over it and I lost my balance. I seemed to roll rather slowly but was unable to stop and landed in the creek face up under water. I had held on to the shovel, luckily, and was able to use it to right myself. I was scrambling and pushing with the shovel handle to get back on solid ice when a neighbor, John Martin, from a ranch to the southwest, drove by on his way to feed cattle. He waved and went on.

There was no need to panic once on solid footing and the house and warmth were only a quarter mile away. I wasn't hurt and snow depth was minimal but I had two barbed wire fences to negotiate in a beeline. I was able to straddle the first one and throw my left leg over but by the time I reached the second fence my clothes were frozen so solid all I could do was push my midsection against the top wire and roll over, dropping to the other side. I reached the house, hollered for Inez to open the door, and I shuffled to the wood heater as she gasped and ran for a rug to place by the heater to soak up the water. I was completely ice crusted from top to bottom, the lashes of my left eye were frozen shut and my right eye was barely open.

Several days later I met John Martin and asked him why he hadn't helped me. He replied, "Hell, I didn't know what you were doing down there. I went home and told Bobbie the biggest sucker I had ever seen was floundering around in the creek by Jackson's meadow."

Fare

Lorda 'mighty, boys, I'm cold
I think my feet are froze
what good is all this gawdam gold
if ice is all it grows

Let's hit that riffle one more time
the colors still look good
before the bottom starts to slime
from all that mossy wood

What in hell possesses man
to rummage down in gravel
for specks of gold to coat his pan
and make his brain unravel

A night or two with a drunken whore
and a rousing poker game
have taken all my dust and more
I love 'em just the same

For life is life to live as well
as rugged men see fit
to buck the odds and live to tell
the meaning of "true grit"

Let's clean the sluice and bar the ditch
We'll get our gear together
and leave this freezin' sonuvabitch
'cause, boys, it looks like weather

Thundermug 2003

The Hottest Day

The warmest lengthy period my body has been exposed to was in August 1981 between the towns of Spearfish and Lead, South Dakota while working in and near Squaw Canyon. Anne Dutka, geologist in temporary status, and I were running grid lines and taking soil samples for Freeport Exploration Company on a gold prospect.

Previously, and in cooler temperatures, while running a grid, we had passed a waterfall where two young men and two young women were frolicking under the water completely nude. I had been anxious to get back after that but we had been delayed in another area. Now it was August, blistering hot and we had been exposed to the sun all morning on a westerly slope. I was in meltdown, my clothes were plastered to me, my boots were squishing with perspiration, and I had taken the bulk of the samples to ease Anne's burden. She was a very willing and energetic partner and never complained, however it was apparent she was suffering from the heat as much as I.

We had passed an abandoned mine, overgrown with brush and just begging for some exploring. I made note of it on a topo map hoping to return when it was cooler and I had more time. That line took us by the waterfall where we had seen the nudies and I was determined to join any and all in such comfort to reduce my body temperature, not to raise it.

The waterfall was just a trickle. The spring that supplied it was nearly dry but less than a hundred feet from the overhang a hole had been eroded or sculpted in some manner to form a basin four feet deep by perhaps eight feet in length wide, enough to fit my frame into. I told Anne she could go hide herself or join me, that I was going to undress and wade in. The hole was in bedrock and clean. Anne declined to join and disappeared.

I hung my clothes on nearby bushes and eased into the most refreshing bath I have ever had. I took only a few minutes but it was so hot my clothes were nearly dried, including my socks which had been dripping when I took them off. On the return, up a hill to the east, I stopped to catch my breath, stooped over with my hands on my knees to help take a little of the weight off the pack from my lower back, and a snake, at least three feet long, slithered between my feet and coiled up in the shade of a pine tree. He was too hot and tired to strike, I was too tired to care.