Not so “private” property

Yesterday, as I’m bundling up to go work outside, I walk pass the living room window and see a person walking along the back part of our property down by the shed. We live on what I like to refer to as “2.5 acres of leave me the fuck alone”. I have done my time living in close proximity to others and really prefer having acreage as a buffer. Our property is WAY out by the Superstition Mountain. Who is this person and why are we walking out here?

I grab my walking stick and head out unsure what I am getting ready to face. I regularly wear steel toe boots on the property for safety. I’m wearing leggings, jeans, two shirts, two flannels and a head wrap because it’s 50 degrees outside. This lizard needs heat she can peel away as she works up a sweat.

Now three times my actual size, I stomp outside to greet the intruder.

Oblivious and casually walking, it’s an elderly woman armed with a camera. I can take her.

I yell down to her “Hey! Can I help you???”

“…No.” She answers and continues on her trek towards my water tank.

My face at that moment had to have been priceless.

What the hell is happening this morning? Another reason why I’m not a fan of Mondays.

I am now forced to hike on down to have a more personal conversation and to be honest I’m not smiling and sweet. I’m annoyed. Like I mentioned, I’m on 2.5 acres and had no intention of walking the perimeter of it when it’s “freezing” outside first thing in the morning.

As I get closer she’s startled. She roughly in her 70’s, thin, socks with her semi- appropriate hiking sandals, loose legging type pants and light jacket. I again ask her if she needs something. Confused she says, “This isn’t a road?” We are standing next to my water tank. Yes, its technically a dirt road that does not lead anywhere but my property.

This is where it gets better. “Does this take me to the Heiroglyphics Trail?” she asks. “They said it was within walking distance. An easy hike.”

Only locals will openly laugh at this. And I did as I hung my head shaking it. Who the hell sent this poor woman so far off track? We are roughly 3 miles from the parking lot of that trail. I refuse to tell anyone a hiking trail in this desert “easy”.IMG_0445 (1).JPG

Thank heavens it’s not Summer, she didn’t go much further and get lost or hurt!

I’m not saying that to be dramatic, I’m serious. She had no water with her and she was alone. Though out casually walking, she was oblivious to the much-documented fact that my property is a thoroughfare for a healthy pack of coyote and a growing herd of javelina with baby in tow. IMG_2524.JPGHad I allowed her to continue on she could have easily walked right over to the main wash all the animals use.IMG_2102.JPG

It’s cold for the desert so she was not really all that in danger of meeting a rattler but again all bets are off when a reptile needs heat and comes out to find a spot in the sun.

We have a sign that reads “Private Driveway” with a Certified Wildlife Habitat sign right below it. She said she thought it was for the other property where she was staying and dismissed it.

One of the things I giggled about when we bought the property was the entrance having a chain across. Why would Elwood and Gerd need a chain? Cute elderly couple who had been living up on a hill way out in the desert for years, really a chain is necessary to keep people out?

We don’t use it most the time but found out quickly it proves useful certain times of the year.

Now I’m being reminded our Snowbirds are back and the chain needs to start going back up. Visitors flocking from anywhere its cold and snowy to come soak up our perpetual sun. They are easy to spot, they have on much less clothing than the locals and they are pale.

As I escort my lost Snowbird back up to the front driveway she tells me she is staying in the house next to us. He air BnB’s it or whatever. “It’s huge inside!” she marvels “… have you been in there? Lots of rooms….”

Yeah lady lots of rooms not as many windows. H.H. Holmes style construction. 6000 square feet of crazy is situated right next to my property line. No, I haven’t gone in that place for a visit. I prefer to watch him from a distance half assed roller brush it with blood red paint.IMG_4910.JPG

I say none of this out loud.

We stop at the beginning of my driveway. As she continues talking I find myself feeling guilty about how I reacted to her earlier. The nice woman standing before me had simply been lost. She meant no harm. But because of having lived my life, I am not all that trusting, seen too much. My first animal instinct was to protect. Protect me and mine. But somehow my Momma Stace protection mode had shifted into keeping HER safe. I had stopped growling at her.

By this point I had relaxed enough to share stories of the mountain and encouraged her to go over to the Superstition Mountain Museum to learn more then sent her back over to where she came from.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

doin’ the rattlesnake shake…

We both see it at the same time. It’s laying in the road up ahead. Is it dead? And what kind is it?

We slow down to a crawl to get a better look. It’s a rattler.

No longer alive, yet I’m still terrified. The head took the impact of this hit and run. The rattle broken off and gone. But this has happened recently. The body is squishy and warm.

My husband knows what’s going to happen next. I want it. I want this snake so it’s life wasn’t wasted. It will come teach with me at the museum. The skin will educate.

He also knows he was the one driving and pulled over so….

But honestly, my brain was on pickle ball just minutes ago so mentally I am a disaster now.

We had gotten up early and were heading over to a park in Apache Junction that has nice, free outdoor courts. I am dressed for pickle ball not roadkill recovery. I don’t want to smell. I’m positive neither does my husband. We also don’t drive an open truck. We have an Expedition that I put things in I shouldn’t. There really isn’t a way to describe what a few week dead coyote smells like. It’s currently down in the shed waiting it’s turn to become educational…I will write about that later.

Grabbing a box, we scooped up the dead snake, put the lid on and threw it in the back of the car. My brain has basically exploded at this point. Yuck!, gross!, OMG this is super cool!, how am I doing this?, what am I doing? I don’t know how… must go to youtube, oh yeah pickle ball.

Adrenaline.

Up until this past April, I had never seen a rattlesnake in the wild. I am born and raised desert. Now, thanks to living around the Superstition Mountain and working at a museum with a very old barn and stamp mill, I have.

They are terrifying. A living, moving, breathing diamondback is beautiful and deadly at the same time. I have great respect for our wildlife. I don’t really have it in me to be the one who would kill a snake. It would have to be attacking my dog or something where I was defending. I’m more catch and release.

Hitting the pickle ball around for a while was greatly needed but still didn’t drain my anxiety. I brought the rattler home, I was going to have to skin it. I have absolutely no idea how.

youtube.

I find some crazy dude in Florida that sounds like someone I would hang out with and watch his video. His snake is huge, but in Florida they have all kinds of crazy reptiles so the one he had was probably average and he was right at home working with it.

But watching and doing are two entirely different things.

This snake body I have is squishy. I have no real area or tools dedicated to this new hobby of mine. I improvise.

Though my husband is awesome, supportive and a Marine, no he is not going to touch this. He hands me an axe and protective eye wear.

The mangled head must go. Again, I am new, this is my first beheading. I am having an out of body experience. I tell myself it’s already dead and I’m just cleaning it but that doesn’t slow the high- speed train of adrenaline pulsating through me.

I have scissors dedicated to this sort of thing after I used them to remove the skin from a Javelina corpse.

I will spare you the rest. How anyone would eat snake I don’t know.IMG_1256

I get parchment paper and lay the skin out flat but realize this is going to make jerky quickly since it’s 100 degrees outside before noon. I go back to my youtube guy and see that if I want my skin soft and pliable I need to soak it.

So that’s where we are now. Soaking.

…it’s about the animals

I knew I had a calling for the Superstition Mountain Museum right away. My first walk around the property where Apacheland Movie Ranch once stood, just minutes from my house, left me with a such a strong personal experience that I wrote about it, photographed it and then went to the Museum and Volunteered.

Believing my calling must have something to do with that certain time in movie history, I watched the Elvis movie Charro! twice every shift so I would know the details and could explain why we had the Chapel on the Museum grounds.IMG_0001.JPG

I began learning the history, ordered the tshirt (seen above in picture) listened to  the stories and even met a few actors who had filmed there. I learned about Pasty Montana, first female country artist to sell a million copies of her single “I want to be a Cowboys Sweetheart” and the men who found her lost foot prints. I tell every girl I meet about her so we don’t lose valuable female history.IMG_0168.JPG

Though extremely comfortable in this “Historic Old West” style land I was now immersing myself in, I knew in my heart I wasn’t the right puzzle piece…not yet.

Then in April and May I met my first rattlesnake, then my second…my third…my fourth. And though my enthusiasm was still in full swing for Charro! happily playing on the mini T.V. in the General Store, my tales of snake encounters were what was truly exciting my guests. Such a common question “Do you see snakes out here?” I simply would tell the truth and show pictures.IMG_0397

I offered to work on Fridays inside the main museum gift shop. I wanted to learn more and the barn wasn’t going to help teach me to become a Docent. No, my dear friend James “Jim” Swanson and a few others would teach me and had already offered.IMG_4202.JPG

When I asked my boss Jeff aka “Crispy” about becoming a Docent, he handed me a few pages stapled together with something that had been reprinted multiple times. My eye sight is so bad I strained and with my usual tact said, “What the hell is this?

( Jeff aka “Crispy” with our self appointed Union Leader Karen)IMG_4789 (1).JPG

Long story short, the manual had been a work in progress and a really good one at that, but my buddy Jim’s health issues got in the way and time had passed. Could I fix it?

What better way to learn all about something then to read and write about it? I would change no words just update, add my pictures and learn a ridiculous amount of history with the help of an amazing few Docents we have.

But once I started working inside the gift main shop, I quickly realized I hardly belong near expensive one of a kind pottery that I know nothing about. Or the amazing jewelry I don’t wear. It’s not me.IMG_1430

Instead I would hover by the animal exhibit. With my Phoenix Zoo background, being born and raised desert and now living in crazy town Gold Canyon photographing every critter possible plus my recent snake encounters with pictures, I was right at home.

Then it happened.

I hear excited shouts over by our side patio. A grandmother, mother and child have their faces pressed up to the glass “Baby Roadrunners!”

Now to be honest, and I have two resident roadrunners on my property that I see regularly, I cannot say I have ever seen a “baby” roadrunner in the wild in my life. If there are baby roadrunners on the museum patio I’m running over there with my camera (iPad).

What I see when I look out are nothing more than what, for lack of a better term and it doesn’t matter anyways, I am going to call generic desert birds. Not baby roadrunners. I attempt to use my zoo training and go to tell them these are not in fact baby roadrunners but are…

I get a mad Grandma insisting that those are indeed baby roadrunners and they have them all over their property! Hmph!!

No, you don’t have baby roadrunners all over your property you nit wit is what I wanted to say but I smiled and said, “Oh really? Nice.” and walked away.

Later, same day, I over hear someone who should know better say a Javelina was a rodent. (uh…no)

A small pop happened at the base of my skull. It’s the animals! Duh! I love animals! My favorite part of being at the zoo was helping bridge the gap between the general population and the animals. My local animals obviously need the same help!

I go to Crispy and tell him I have an idea. I made an “animal fun facts” sheet, could we post it so our guests could learn a bit more? Much to my happiness it was received so well from our Museum Queen and leader Liz that it was mounted on the exhibit!

Then I ask about the display. If you know me this is not a surprise. I’m going to want more. Can I get more snakes? A jackrabbit? Turkey Vulture? What can we do? I am told to call the taxidermist but I make Crispy do it.

Between my personality and the taxidermist…let’s just say more than a few people were excited to see us meet. Fascinated by anyone with this career I couldn’t wait. We hit it off beautifully.

My enthusiasm and respect for the animals met a talented, artistic and unique man more than generous in spirit and kindness who understood my collecting of dead animals I find. I have been told he claims to have visited other places outside of this planet. I will be grabbing my spoon for those tales. If someone is smart they would film us chatting.

Starting in August I will be doing Animal Fun Fact talks in front of the exhibit we have at the Superstition Mountain Museum! From 10-2 I will hang out on Saturdays and share as much as they will let me!

I am also still in the process of helping update the Docent Manual they currently have with more information and pictures. Jim is always my helper as my legitimate historian. A walking tour handout for the inside of the museum I am just finishing up and hope our guests will soon enjoy.IMG_4474.JPG

I contribute to the monthly newsletter “In the Loop” by creating a way to introduce the volunteers to one another called “have you met…?”. When you have over 200 volunteers it’s easy to feel like you don’t know anyone. Trust me, I’m going to include everyone! My least favorite thing on the planet are people who exclude others.

I have come a long way since becoming a volunteer a year ago. I cannot wait to see what this next year brings. It’s going to be awesome. Come see me. I’ll show you around.IMG_0701

Bird Watching

Have you ever had one of those moments where you question advice you have given?

It’s been about two weeks now that my husband and I hiked the Peralta Trail so we could see Weaver’s Needle. A few months back I introduced some of you to the Peralta Trail and its history but needed to wait for the deserts high temps to break before I could go hiking and get pictures for you. The story is very cool. Go back and read it if you haven’t. I creatively titled it The Peralta Trail.IMG_7074.JPG

Anyways, the weather lately has been fabulous with highs somewhere in the low 90’s. For us desert folk, that Sunday morning felt “chilly” so we waited and left for our hike “late” at 8 am. Peralta is a good four-hour hike, grand total up and back, unless you are running and I’m not going to recommend that ever.IMG_7142.PNG

Peralta is a real hiking trail for sure. It’s far from flat. You are hiking up into the Superstition Mt. over big rocks and boulders to get the spectacular view of Weavers Needle. This spot has so many claims of gold, mystery and death surrounding it not to mention the Apache Indians, their belief this is the home of their Thunder God, and all 200 of Peralta’s men being massacred trying to leave this general area with gold, the Peralta Trail will forever draw visitors from around the world to come and see the view for themselves.

We call our seasonal visitors “Snow Birds”. They come from where ever it is cold and gloomy and enjoy the fabulous weather we have this time of year.IMG_7112.JPG

About twenty minutes into our hike back down from the top of the Mt. we could hear a group coming up. Men, women, probably a few teens too, not really sure, but a good sized group. I didn’t count. What we did over hear as we approached were disgruntled women who had been told this was an easy two-hour hike. Obviously whatever other plans they had for the day were now ruined thanks to whoever had sent them on this sightseeing excursion.

They all are basically lost at this patch of the trail until they see us and that solves their navigation issue. Excited men and a few frustrated women ask us how much further to the top. We answer honestly “about twenty minutes”. With this news most of the group seems ready to run the rest of the way to the top but a few are debating turning around.

(Now mind you at this point they have driven about 6 miles on a lovely bumpy dirt road to reach the start of this trail, hiked about 2 maybe 2 and a half HOURS up into a cactus covered Mt. to see a view, then will have to turn around and get back down for another 2 plus hours! What hateful friend or relative did this to them I don’t know)

Now this is the part of the story I have replayed over and over again in my mind. Should I have…?

I turn to the women and smile and say “You’ve made it this far…you don’t want to miss the view…”

and we hike past.

I guess the size of the group made me feel less concerned about safety or if they really could make it. No one appeared hurt in any way. Also, I figure if you can complain that loud about not wanting to do this anymore then you probably DO have the strength to hike another twenty minutes to the top.

But I should know better. Encouraging tired hikers can be a bad idea. A wonderfully “warm” day to a desert kid like me is not the same to a relative from the East Coast. Strong accents told us at least some of this group was not from around these parts. It is painfully dry in the desert and honestly very few transplants can come out here and hike for 4 hours without feeling seriously dehydrated.

And as I always say, there are no life guard towers out here! No one is going to come rescue you if you flop over. Know your limits.IMG_7328.PNG

The flip side, had I sounded worried or concerned about them making the last twenty minutes they would have assuredly turned around when really the only challenge they were facing was mental. Plus, that just makes for even worse complaining if you didn’t even reach your goal and turned around in defeat because wandering around the mall or watching T.V. seemed like a much better idea for the day. (Admit it ladies, that’s a guaranteed bitch and moan session ALL the way back down the Mt. and no one needs that. Besides, your butt will thank you for this hike later.)

We don’t hear them after a few more minutes and can see up the side of the Mt. they have decided to go the distance. I’m happy for them. I truly am. I almost feel proud. I knew they could do it. Going back down will feel much easier.

I’m reminded it’s that time of year again, our birds are back. We need to watch them. Keep them safe.

(I am also grateful to not know any of the complaining ladies personally so later when they are beyond sore I will have no part in the blame.)

The Stamp Mill

 

I have some fun “PDR” or “positive desert reporting” for you this gorgeous Monday! At exactly 10 am this morning I watched the 20- Stamp Mill ore crusher demonstration at the Superstition Mountain Museum. If you have not watched the demonstration of this massive machinery get ready to mark it on your calendar!

Like most women I know, I love gold and have spent my entire life just fine with not knowing exactly how gold is found, produced, made, or whatever. I just like gold in the shiny jewelry form… handed to me in a pretty box.

But reality is, if I had to go climb a dangerous, cactus covered mountain and blast holes into it hoping to find rocks that possibly have gold hidden inside only to lug those incredibly heavy rocks back down that mountain on a mule…? Then go smash those rocks hoping there is enough gold inside to have been worth risking my life for?!?!

This is not going to happen. Not ever. Certainly not for jewelry.

It truly amazes me that anyone did this. But they did. Countless men have lost their lives following maps and trails into the Superstition Mountain searching for gold. The Museum is filled with books retelling true stories about the famous and not so famous gold miners. The more I read the more I am fascinated.

These stories of mining gold become eerily real as you stand there with the amazing Superstition Mountain as the back drop while the men running the Stamp Mill explain the process then proudly fire up their rock crushing machine.

It happens once a month, it’s free and the scenery is spectacular.

October 10 @ 10 am Demo is the last Monday. November through April Demos are once a month, twice daily on Saturdays.

November 12 @ 11 & 1

December 3 @ 11 & 1