Pot Shots

Woody had a list of chores that kept very him busy for the entire week of our visit to SIL's ranch.

He hammered and hefted. He sawed and drilled. He groomed and clipped. He mended and repaired.
And, one by one Woody checked off the chores on his list.

SIL worked right along side of her big brother. It was a good thing to see as she has been ill most of this year. But now that she is healthier, she got right to work. Me?  I still stayed out of the way.


The chores went smoothly enough and we only
had to make a couple of trips into town to
get more supplies. I did notice the glee in Woody's eye as we turned into the hardware parking lot.

Towards the end of our stay at the ranch, the Woodster wanted to paint the deer stile he built a couple of years ago.

What we are calling a deer stile is a pass through of sorts in the barbed wire fence. The idea is to prevent people on ATVs riding on SIL's property and destroying the environment, yet at the same time allowing horse back riders, hikers, and deer or other wildlife access to the property. There is no proof that any person or animal has actually used the stile yet, but the opportunity is there.

Anyway, like most other things on a ranch, the stile requires periodic maintenance. It needed painting.


SIL has 80 acres, which includes a little river bed canyon. Her property goes from her main cabin across a meadow to the canyon, across the canyon, and continues for about 15 yards on the other side of the canyon depending on the zig or zag of the property line in relation to the canyon's edge. On the other side of SIL's property line is an abandoned house (complete with loads of trash which the owner threw onto SIL's property before he was sent to prison for reasons unknown) and space cleared for a new house next door to that. SIL's property was fenced when she bought it, but some of the fencing is gone, cut, or weather beaten away. Anyone with access to the neighboring properties is able to walk to the edge of the canyon fairly easily.

SIL is on the far side of the river bed canyon. The deer stile is at the
bottom of the canyon.

So, one morning Woody grabbed some paint and a few brushes. He and I hiked from SIL's quonset hut barn down into the canyon. After a little bit of prep, Woody was soon painting the stile. I was along to take a few photos.









It was a truly beautiful day and fairly quiet  except for occasional traffic on the nearby highway. I wore a white cotton shirt and beige pants along with a very large sunhat as the temps were quite warm. I had already sunburned my scalp once. I took a few photos and enjoyed the morning. The smell of the sage was absolutely intoxicating.

Woody was busily painting and I had a good time snapping a few photos.  The quiet of the morning was suddenly shattered by the sound of gun shots coming from the far side of the canyon. Bang BANG! Bang BANG!

We briefly thought about hunters trespassing on SIL's property, but figured it was someone shooting at targets on the neighboring property. Besides, we were well within SIL's property with No Trespassing and No Hunting signs clearly posted.



I am a naive city slicker. Let me emphasize NAIVE.  I don't really know when hunting season begins or ends. I thought it might be coming up as signs in town welcomed hunters.  It never occurred to me that the season might have started already. Woody continued painting and I was happily snapping away when WHIZ....thud!  A bullet had come screaming across the canyon, landing about 20 yards (or less) from me! Oh my God!!  Woody hollered at the shooter and the shooting first changed direction and then stopped altogether. I was shaking a bit and hid myself deeper in the bushes.  The Woodster kept right on painting. Woody was mostly camouflaged in his browns, while my white shirt stuck out like a white flag, sore thumb, or the hind end of a white tailed deer.

The hunter had to have been standing about where SIL was standing in the above photo. I immediately scanned the canyon top with my binos, but didn't see a thing.  The hunter had to have seen me. That thought sent shivers down my spine. Did the hunter think I was a deer? Was I an idiot for being in white and beige in order to combat the heat? Or, was the hunter the idiot? Or was he perhaps sending a warning our way because he didn't like the No Trespassing and No Hunting signs??  I didn't like any of the options.

Woody often tells me that any adventure that doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Hah! I am a So Cal city girl. I don't do heat or snow and I especially don't do gun shots. I didn't exactly turn into a quivering mass of jelly, but it will be a cold day before I venture down there again. No.....wait.....I don't do snow!