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The Property on the North Fork
After our first night camping, we drove a short distance from the Ochoco Summit Campground down into another gorgeous ranch-filled valley for breakfast. Joan and Gordon had recommended us to the Little Pine Cafe and Truck Stop in Mitchell, so there we went. The food was quite good and AMPLE. The waitress was friendly and accommodating. All the ads in the windows had to do with huntin' and shootin' and ropin' and ranchin'. The magazines ran heavily to Big Game Regulations and Avon Catalogs. No smokin' in the Café the outside ashtray was a pair of cowboy boots.  There was a park bench made of horseshoes (no photo, sorry). But best of all, there was A BEAR!
The bear's name is Henry and he is a black bear. He lives in a big cage opposite the café, right by the truck stop. The three times we went by to visit (we liked Henry) , all kinds of locals and tourists were stopping by just for the joy of staring at Henry. When we braced Gordon later with NOT EVEN TELLING US ABOUT THE BEAR!!! He said, "What bear?" So, hah! We know more about their new home than they do. Henry is very accommodating about photos in the morning; in the afternoon he sleeps. Here is a picture of Henry on his  bed/house/shelter gnawing on a knee-or knuckle bone. From a LARGE cow I think. Here is a picture of Henry  snuffling up close to the cage wire (bottom is leathery nostrils, top is hairy muzzle) to see if I had any chicken, or, if not, how chicken I was. The Answer to the Second: A LOT. Henry laughed while I leaped back, but it's still an okay snout picture, don't you think? (Well, okay, I know these are terrible photos, if anyone is a Photoshop whiz, I'd welcome a lesson in how to filter out the cage.) Note the inside wire has a large mesh, which Henry can apparently move around and make holes in when he feels like it. The outside mesh is much finer and sturdier. I don't thing Henry bites, it might just be to keep people from feeding him. He's pretty big already, so I don't think he's hungry very often.
While in Mitchell we picked up a copy of the "Horsefly" a 16 page small (7" x 9") newsprint flyer listing various "Event Schedules for Livestock, Pets, Sporting & Family Fun." Also lots of ads and some handy hints--one on fly spray for livestock and people (Pinesol and water for the cattle; Avon Skin-so-soft, vanilla, vinegar and water for the people). And you will be getting a few more recipes this round. The first one, from "Horsefly," is for Two-Hour Jerky. No by-line and I haven't tried it, but these folks surely know what they're doing.
Oh wait, one more thing about Mitchell. This was a bumper sticker  on a pickup in the parking lot. We didn't think it was worth the challenge to find out who it belonged to. Although in my younger days I probably would have huffed and puffed and stomped and gotten laughed at by more than Henry. Not a loss of passion, just pickin' the battles better. (And, here's the throw-back: Don't tell me it's supposed to be a joke, because it shows some real nastiness. Just think about what kind of person would think this is funny.)
On to Gordon and Joan's property. Here's a map to show you what I mean by "in the middle of nowhere in the middle of everything."  This area has, in the past, been lucrative sheep country and this place clearly has been used to do something with sheep. There's no house now, just a trailer and a barn and a newish outhouse. The barn is similar to many other farm/ranch outbuildings around here. Inside posts are  tree trunk, pine or juniper, and the siding is some kind of local wood that turns this a deep, oily, brown as it ages. I guess. Maybe they paint the buildings with coal oil for all I know. Anyway you see them all over in all sizes; most are board and batten. Some, like Gordon's, are just board and you can see the outside through the siding.
You can tell there have been sheep here because there are clots of dirty wool and well-rotted manure all around the barn and a bagful of wool just sitting in front of it  . I never wondered how big the bags were "Yes, sir, yes, sir, three bags full" from the nursery rhyme (link for those who don't remember). This bag is about 6 feet long and 18 inches in diameter, but is only about one-fourth the size that we saw when we toured an historical sheep ranch in the valley (more about that later).
Gordon and Joan's property includes a nice little grove of shade trees where the house used to be (and will be again), and at the other end of the property, a small fruit orchard. That's one of the ways you can tell if a piece of land has ever been homesteaded here. If there are remnants of orchards, gardens, wind breaks, lilacs. Often the plants survive after the buildings have fallen down and disappeared. As we drove around, we began observing other things about the farms and ranches, too. And playing "How much influence does the woman have on this spread?" game. If the barn, corrals and outbuildings are nicer than the house, not too much. If the house is painted and there are non-essential irrigated flowers and/or a nice kitchen garden, probably okay. If there are no flowers at all, probably a bachelor rancher.
There are a lot of deer and antelope all around the area, one of the reasons Joan and Gordon bought there. We only saw one small herd of antelope, but quite a few deer. No elk, it's a bit early for them to be down from the higher reaches. And there really haven't been wild moose in Oregon in the last hundred years, but now they're starting to move in from Idaho. Anyway we didn't see any.
Gordon says there are coyotes and at least one fox on the property and I certainly thought I heard something in the canine family whining around the trailer several different nights. But eventually, I concluded it must be a mechanical sound from somewhere -- wind mill, barn door hinge, pump engine, something. Gordon also said there was a big owl that lives in the barn, but since we didn't know it was there, we didn't look for it. We saw plenty of other birds, mostly crows, magpies and swallows. Which reminds me, when we were at the lava field summit, a man was explaining to his daughter (and granddaughter who still looked remarkably like a bundle of flannel, so probably didn't understand) how to tell the difference between a crow and a raven. The raven is much larger of course, and has a different call. But, he said, ravens have a patch of feathers that don't lie down smoothly, a sort of topknot. And also that you rarely see ravens in the valleys in Oregon, only in the higher elevations. My internet experts mostly agree but say the erect tuft of hair is above the bill.
It will always be difficult to do this identity on the fly, but I think I'm getting closer.
There are several other outstanding things about the area where the acreage is. The view is fantastic  , there is an amazing fruit orchard within ten miles and the alfalfa field across the way is a classic. First the orchard. It's just difficult to accept the thousands of bushels of fruit that come out of the Thomas/Kimberly Orchards when it seems so dry and hot. There are acres and acres of fruit along the banks of the John Day River here, all irrigated, of course. All those soft, sweet, fleshy fruits -- peaches, pears, plums, apricots, cherries, nectarines -- and apples, too. A dozen varieties of apples, eight or ten of pears, peaches and apricots. It's quite impressive You drive down into the yard, past some oldish dogs and a cat or two and there's the stand and the orchards start right there beside the driveway. You can pick your own fruit for about half the prices of just buying it, and it's all less expensive than the super-market. Quite a drive, though. On the last day we got a box of peaches that Joan had asked for and just a few of almost everything else they had available. They have dried fruit and preserves and recipes. Here's one for Creamy Nectarine Tart. They also have applets and cotlets, nice candies made from apple or apricot pulp with walnuts, that we bought some of. I would have thought that the names at least were somehow reserved by the original makers of these candies, Liberty Orchards in Eastern Washington. Maybe they just haven't caught them yet, or maybe they have an understanding. I hope so. It was all great but we also got earwigs in our box. Bummer. They're ugly but they don't bite humans, so not too bad.
The last thing I want to tell about is the alfalfa. This particular valley grows a lot of alfalfa, a hay crop with a very high food value, good for keeping the cattle and sheep going in the winter. (Alfalfa is thought to originate in Iran and is an Arabic word meaning "best crop.") The field across from Gordon and Joan's was at just the right stage for harvesting, just before it blooms, when we were there. Indeed, the owners of the property, Sunny and Mark and a hound who was not introduced, came on the weekend to mow and turn the hay in the field. Unlike many hay crops, alfalfa is harvested when it is still green, but it has to dry out a bit before it can be baled.  One morning, maybe a week later, as we left for our tourist wandering, a man (not Mark) drove up in a pick up and revved up the hay rake to turn the windrows of alfalfa. It looked like a boring job and hard on the back. You have to keep turning around to make sure the rows are good and bits are not scattered between the rows. When we came back several hours later, the whole field was baled! And beautifully done, the field was clean, the bales evenly spaced. I suppose this is a skill that most of the men and half the women (ranchers and farmers, I mean) around here have -- baling a field properly. I was impressed anyway.
And I have rambled on too long. Next I think I'll tell about the historic sheep ranch -- the Officer/Cant ranch.
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