"Sweet Dreams are made of this..."

The gear arrives on site, brought by "The Bee Man"

More than three years ago, before we moved to Montana, the dream was planted in our oldest daughter's heart to pursue beekeeping as a hobby.  If I remember correctly, she mentioned it casually in a conversation one day.  That week, I grabbed a book from the library for her — "Beekeeping for Dummies", I think (though she's certainly no dummy).  From that point on, she began a voracious appetite for knowledge about bees... an "independent study program", if you will.  So naturally, upon arriving in these wide open spaces, she wanted to take the plunge and acquire a colony of her own, ASAP.  Being big fans of local honey, the Dear Bride and I agreed we would help her pursue the matter, in God's timing.

As it turned out, we have become acquainted with a wonderful family with much experience in the the Bee-o-sphere (among many other skills like canning/preserving, gardening, etc).  The Dad is someone I also happen to work with at my job with the Martin City Water District, near Glacier National Park.  Anyway, to make a long story short, this "Bee Man" (not his real name, of course :-) has hooked us up with his supplier, and our adventurous daughter now has her own colony!

The two boxes with the removable frames inside, will make up Emily's hives.  The other box — the screened one with the can of sugar syrup in the middle — will be discarded once the colony is transferred to the hives.

The queen was lucky enough to get her own little "travel suite" for the journey, which the workers are quick to cluster around

Look closely... the queen inside the box has a green dot on her back, indicating that she's young, and ready to do her job.

Getting ready to shake them in

The stragglers need a little more persuasion

Mama and the girls look on...

Emily is fearless!  :-O

Looks like the girls want to join F.B.K.A....

"Future Bee Keepers of America"  :-)

"If you build it, they will come."

 The next day, we went to check on "the ladies" to see if their queen had situated herself... She had!  The weather was cold and breezy, which helped calm the hive, it seemed.

Congratulations, dear daughter.

Venison Report

WARNING:

If you are a member of PETA, I apologize in advance for offending your sensitivities.

Now that that's out of the way...

This morning the three wanna-be deer slayers (My two oldest children and I) went over to our friends' house, who had graciously offered us one of their deer, a buck with a mere 4" of antler on his cranium.  When we arrived, the animal had already been expertly eviscerated, decapitated and elevated by his hind legs:

Now let me just brag right now on a couple of young gentlemen, whom our family is proud to know.  Matthew, I believe, is about 13.  He's the lad responsible for our family's recent motherlode of meat.  He dropped that buck in his tracks with a shotgun slug, right out in his own backyard.  Handy.

Then there's his older brother Daniel, who seems to live-and-breathe hunting-and-skinning.  At 14 years old, the way that guy wielded a skinning knife and a sawz-all was downright impressive:

With the skills these guys have, it would have been easy for them to make sport of our inexperience.  But the best thing about Matthew and Daniel is that they have been diverted, by loving and wise Christian parents, from the trap of cruel and thoughtless peer pressure so pervasive in public education.  These guys have been taught to show love and respect at all times, and they wear such qualities like badges of honor.  They were glad to be able to help us out, without needing so much as a word of oversight from their father (who was occupied nearby).

Hats off to young people like this everywhere (including my beloved children), who will undoubtedly bring hope, healing and provision into this broken world, in Christ's Name.

Doing what she's created to do...

This evening, we were treated to quite a show after our evening walk, and the whole family clamored for a front-row seat.  This otherwise-very-friendly feline (she always comes around and purrs at us) had hit the jackpot, and was enjoying her prize:



Just a few minutes later, my little Munchkin (10-yr old daughter) reported that Lucy had ingested the whole mouse.
Simply amazing!  Way to go, Lucy!

Ric, the Tanner??

Yes, being the aspiring Mountan Man, I've been reading the definitive primer on the subject of tanning hides:



After deciding that I should, in fact, attempt to become adept at this primitive (but complex!) skill, I decided to post an ad on Craigslist, to see if anyone had any "hides" laying around in their freezer, just itching to be tanned.  Well, as it turned out, someone did!  Here's what I got back:

"Hi...  I shot a nice black bear last fall, the hide [and skull attached, I've been told] is in my freezer.  Was not quality to make a rug out of as she sat on tree limbs to eat apples and rubbed off alot of butt hair. I was shocked at the prices to get hides tanned. I don't want it to go to waste, so if you are interested in working out some sort of deal. If it turned out nice I could pay you for your time and get it back or if not we can say we tried to save it.  [He leaves his name and phone number here.]  Get ahold of me and see what we can do..."

So, I'll be picking it up on Saturday (of course I'm bringing the kids), and we'll see what becomes of it.  I'd like to look back on this day and be able to say it was the beginning of my long experience in the tanning trade.

For the love of dogs

I've always been a "dog person".  Even for those long stretches when I haven't owned one (say, the last 27 years), I can still appreciate how loyal to and supportive of us humans they typically are.

But never more so than the last 10 days.  No sir.  You see, for the last week and a half, my life and the lives of my family have been significantly dependent on the stout hearts, attentive ears and watchful eyes of one shepherd-mix ("Selah") and one Great Pyrenees ("Buster").  While we sleep peacefully within the wafer-thin walls of our 12' x 16' Coleman tent in the middle of the Montana wilderness (but still thankfully within the front yard of their owners' house), Selah & Buster diligently take up the night watch.  The previous owners of our friends' house said that their dogs kept them from seeing even a single predator (and hardly even a deer) anywhere near the property for the entire 8 years they lived there.

So while thousands of little "rat-terriers" get strollered around metropolises wearing embarrassing little pink monogrammed sweaters, Selah and Buster are naked, proud and aware, earning their status as "Mountain Dogs" every single day.  So tonight -- and every night -- I'm saying a little prayer of gratitude for them...

...But I still sleep with my Glock.

;-)