Whiskey on the side ......

[Seajay]

Whiskey on the side....
The cow camp named Pie Plant was so named because of the wild rhubarb that grew in the area or this is what they told me when I questioned the origin of the name of the place. It was a log cabin with a concrete floor and a well pump beside the sink. It had effectively three rooms. The ''front room'' was a combination kitchen/dining room/living room with a couple of cot type beds along the wall, an old sofa and a couple of living room chairs. The table was made from boards and the chairs were the ladder back types with woven bottoms. One of the ''chairs'' had a soft cushion in the seat. It was reserved for new guys and trick to it was that the chair had no ''woven bottom'' in it. When you sat down you went all the way thru the seat of the chair and everyone got a good laugh out of your misfortune. Yep, they got me with the ''cushion chair''..... There was a ''safe box'' attached to the wall which was made of thick lumber to keep the mice out and the food inside. There were shelves for canned goods and stowage. There was a nice outhouse about fifty feet to the rear and a large wood pile.
The two ''back rooms'' were for sleeping and it was best if you brought your own sleeping bag or ''covers'' for this purpose. There was also a ''loft'' that was used during round up when a lot of guys showed up to gather the cows to send them to market.
Art Price, Jim Price, Whiskey the cow dog and myself spent about ten glorious day in this cabin and this is were I learned to listen to the earth breathe and to listen to God in his heaven as he walked around.
Whiskey was a cow dog. I never new her exact ''breed'' but she was some sort of herding dog like a sheep dog but she was smaller. She might have weighed 40 pounds. She had what I would call a ''mottled coat'', kinda shaggie and rumpled looking, kinda long but not long enough to get tangled in stuff. Her tail was kinda long and ''swooshie'' and she had one blue eye and one brown eye and to my recollection, I never heard her bark. She could run like a bullet and when she stopped she would usually lay down. Sometimes she would go into a low crouch like she was sneaking up on something and when she was with me she seemed very happy. She would trot along out in front of me and often look back to be sure I was still there and still going the same way she was. We became fast friends and I would feed her every night after the days work with the cows. We developed the habit of ''going to the rock pile'' across from the cabin.
The ''ROCK PILE'' was a large out cropping of medium size boulders about the size of a small car across the meadow from the cabin. Lots of times in the evenings me and Whiskey would walk across the pasture and climb the ''rock pile'' and just sit and watch the chipmunks play and we would sit there and watch the sun go down. Strangely she seemed to show no interest in chasing the little chipmunks. Usually the rocks would be slightly warm from the days sunshine and lots of times the evening was the prettiest time in Taylor Park.
The cabin made a perfect picture down in the valley and the sun would set in the mountain gap directly in line with the cabin. A stream of sunlight would wash down the mountain and across the cabin with shadows on both sides of the cabin. Almost like it was in a ''spotlite'' of sorts. Lots of times the sunsets would simply ''knock your sox off'' out there. Greens and golds and reds and bright yellows and purples and seemingly every color in Gods paint box would splash across the sky as ''Old Sol'' dipped its head behind the Rockies. It was a truly peaceful time sitting on those big rocks just watching and smoking while Nature played out the end of another day. Lots of times Whiskey would curl up on the rocks and lay her head in my lap and doze off while we sat there. Out there you could sit and listen to the ''night sounds'' when the sun would go down. Little ''chitters and chatters'' of pack rats and field mice would tease your ears and you could hear the tiny footsteps and ''scampers'' of the ''critters'' as they came out to claim the night. Sometimes you could see faces in the clouds as the sun would set. Big and mean faces and tiny baby faces with smiling lips and big eyes. Sometimes, for a fleeting instant I felt sure that I could see the face of God in those clouds. My eyes would acclimate to the darkness and the starlight and Whiskey and me would amble back to the cabin in the dark.
This was a very peaceful time for me. A time to think and reflect and wonder about the future and what it held for me. It was a very good time in my life and I shall never forget these times in the west …...


Whiskey and me at sunset......

[CorsairIIAT]

Very nice story Sea Jay.

[Dragonrover]

Nothin like the company of man's best friend.