Hostage Crisis at the Horse Farm

July 4th , and we were headed towards Mt. Rushmore. Out by Sherman, the kids collected the mysterious long brown feathers off the ground.
I noticed what appeared to be dead birds hanging upside down in the trees. Hawks maybe? How a hawk would die, up there and at that angle?
The manager came over and explained that Fish and Game put the dead hawks up there to scare away the turkey buzzards. Then I noticed, far up in the tree branches, these huge black fat vultures, delicately perched on the tiny branches.

As we wind our way out toward the mountain D. said he’s done with South Dakota. Yep. He could have cut this visit one day short.
“You could missed Mt. Rushmore?” I said incredulously
“I saw it yesterday” he said.
“You saw the hair in George’s nose”
He shrugged, and checked cell coverage again.

We found entry much easier this time. Of course, the park opened at 9 and we were there by 9:05. The entrance to the monument is grand, with pillars from each state, the state flags and engraved dates of statehood.

The kids wanted to take a picture of the Washington pillar ( because that’s where we live). And the Oregon ( because that’s where Ronnie was born). And New Jersey ( because that’s were the twins were born) and Pennsylvania ( because that’s where Bresh was born) and maybe California ( because that’s where Schoolie and Gramma live).
And we were out of batteries for the cameras.
Thirty batteries in less five days?
“Run into the gift shop” D. said “ I’ll bet they have them.”
So I do. And they do. And I discover something very important.
They sell digital camera BATTERIES for DIGITAL CAMERAS.
Dummy.
“I think I’ve solved our battery problem” I said. “We’ve been buying the wrong kind of batteries”
D. looked at the cover.
“It won’t make any difference” he frowned. “How much did you pay for this anyway, 47? I only spent 10”
Oh well.

We take the presidential tour, a half mile loop talk. It’s clear Nick is in seventh heaven. This ranger is chalk full of presidential trivia. The Ranger speaks endlessly about George being a farmer, Teddy’s love of nature, Lincoln’s death and George’s death.
Nick is riveted.
Ronnie discovers fascinating rock formations in a granite boulder.
Bresh and Chase wilted in the sun.
I wandered off and photographed an Indian Teepee.
Then I saw a crack in some boulders. People are lining up to go into the crack. Curious, I lined up too. The girls joined me. On there other side of the crack was just an unusual angle to George’s face. I’ve had enough nose crack pictures to last a life time so we left.
“Why’d we do that?” Asked Ronnie as we rejoined the presidential tour..

The presidential tour ended near The Studio, a dedication to the life and vision of the sculpture, Gutzon Borglum. We headed down to hear the lecture. D. situated himself on a chair. The kids scattered. I wandered about a bit. There is a scaled model of what Mt. Rushmore was to look like, very different then the one actually carved. There are also picture of the operations, the gadgets used to build. The old ER nurse in me wondered what kind of crush wounds occurred on the mountain during construction. Eventually I rounded a corner and find all the kids in front of a standing fan.

Its hot.
Its soooo hot.
What’s the temperature at home?
I said, Its hot, very hot and its probably raining at home. Now go learn something.
Nick does.
The ranger talked about how you sculpt a mountain and the equipment needed and the dynamite needed and the men needed. And Borglum’s dedication.
“He’s a nut. A screw ball” D. whispered.
As we left, two actors dressed as Teddy and Lincoln arrived. Nick is the first to shake their hands. We pressed on. It’s a hike back up to the top. D. was most anxious to go.
“Did you see Teddy Roosevelt, Mom. I sure would have liked to ask him questions.” said Nick.
We, of course, have one final stop.
Twenty minutes later, we exited with stuffed bison #2, a mood necklace, one shirt, two hats and two hat pins. But Nick can’t find the presidential trivia books he saw in The Studio.
He really wanted them and this is soo his thing. So he and I hiked back down to get them. While I waited in line, the presidential actors began their talk. Nick wandered over to listen to the talk.
“What are they saying?” I asked.
“Speeches. They’re giving famous speeches. I think I know the one Roosevelt is giving. It’s the Bull Moose one”
Roosevelt gave a speech on a Moose? I have to admit I have no idea what Nick is talking about.
But he looked so earnest, and so excited clutching those trivia books that I impulsively bought a membership to the Mt. Rushmore historic society.
Hey, we got a “free” canvas bag AND 20 % off our next purchase.
I’m glad we did Mt. Rushmore for Nick but, I could have missed it.
“This was the best thing so far, mom, this does not suck” said Nick




This next section should be titled:
How Kim got her way and wished she hadn’t or How we were held hostage on a horse farm.

Wild Horse Sanctuary. I wanted to see it. No one else did. I won because I had the car keys.

We drove fifty miles south on a highway, and off roaded it a good ten before we arrived in the choking dust cloud, in the blazing heat, at a dinky store in the middle of nowhere.
I thought we were going to take a bus tour to see the last of the Wild horse population in the US.
Instead, we are held hostage by a tour guide and his horde of flies.


It started off well enough, with him showing us the working horse farm.
And then it was onto the flora.
Then the rock formations and more flora.
Then about the owner, Dayton Hyde ( who?????) a famous author, rodeo stunt man, best friend of Slim Pickens, who built this sanctuary out of the goodness of his heart.
This kind of background information can make an experience… special.

The kids started melting.
Its hot
Its really hot.
What temperature is it at home? Is it maybe raining?

Then its on to a Bluff overlook. A really beautiful sight actually, with a green peaceful valley way below. Turns out is the site of the Hollywood studio setting for Robert Redford’s Crazy Horse.
Its here he started to veer off subject, a little.
Did we know the difference between Reel-a-lty and Reality.
He illuminated us for twenty minutes in the blazing sun
Hollywood is full of idiots, assholes who wouldn’t know the first thing about history.

“I’m going to die” said Bresh
“Better fix that“ said D. indicating Bresh, as he perched on a rock.
I try to distract her with the flowers and the cactus and the fact that we will see Wild Horses any minute now. Hopefully.

As we load up in the bus, he said, “Don’t get me started on Custer.
And even though no one said one word, apparently he IS started on Custer.
We don’t move an inch.

Custer’s an idiot. An arrogant blood thirsty SOB. Out manned, out horsed , out gunned. Inferior in every way and highly deserving of the ass kicking he took.

Well, that’s not new news. And then.

Custer’s the biggest idiot every produced by Michigan. Anyone from Michigan? Did they know they had produced such an SOB? Most Michiganites don’t appreciate it when he pointed out this fact, but hell they should really know what an asshole they produced.
Apparently, he’s the one to enlighten them.

The flies crawl all over the girls as they stretch out on the seats. D. sat glumly against the cracked windows of the bus hoping to catch a breeze. Nick appeared to be not listening.


The bus DOES start. However, we rocket down another trail that is definitely not headed towards what I think would be green grazing pastures of horses.

“Mom” said Nick, “if you let me have that lighter I saw at the store I’ll-”
“Nick” I said “you lost me at lighter”
“Mommy” whined Ronnie” what do you think my mood necklace is telling you about my mood”
I pretend liked I didn’t hear her.
“It said I’m thirsty Mom THIRSTY.


The he yapped on about Dayton Hyde and his books and how he, the guide, had checked out every story Dayton had every written in minutia and every single word about anything Dayton had ever written was the gods honest truth and there wasn’t a single writer in this lousy day and age who that could be said about.
Had he mentioned the difference between Reel-a-lty and Reality?
He had but, shit, if he didn’t explain it again.

“Is that sweat on your forehead, Daddy” asked Ronnie “I’ve got some on my legs.”
She and Bresh examine the sweat. So do the flies.
They haven’t seen much sweat, apparently, growing up in Washington.
Or flies either because Ronnie manages to trap one in an empty water bottle.
“Is this what it was like growing up in California?” Asked Chase.
And when I said yes, it was really hot in Sacramento.
“Wow your childhood musta really sucked”
Compared to this? Nope.

On the second bluff’s overlook, he showed us where, in the valley, the Sioux would come following the buffalo along the river banks.
Did we know the buffalo had nearly been exterminated by the settlers who only took the tongue and the horns? Did we know they were left thousands and thousands of carcasses to rot?

Yes. We all knew that but what we really want to know is where are the *&%$ing horses?

And yet, those frickin’ idiots named the town Custer?
Did we know Custer came from Michigan?



And then its more driving the sanctuary, and seeing the canyons, and seeing the ravens, and seeing the dust bowl and even more about Dayton and Slim Pickins and how Dayton could have BEEN Slim except he had been in a horrible accident the week before.


And I wonder seriously if this man was off his medications.
And I wonder if perhaps I could just takes his

Had anyone been to Mt. Rushmore?
This here sanctuary is much prettier then Mt. Rushmore ever could be.
Mt Rushmore is the biggest fraud ever, did we know that?
And the government Taxes you to build it then charged you ten bucks just to see it. What a rip off. They are charging you TWICE.

I noticed Nicks back bristle.
And he steers off road and said, “we’re off to see the pteroglyphs”
And my heart just sinks because pteroglyphs don’t sound anywhere near horses. Not even farm breed ones.

At the pteroglyphs, he showed us the Indian carvings.
I showed the kids how, if they stood just right, they might feel a breeze.
They do.
And they don’t.

D. kicked a bush and says, I hope your having a good time cause the rest of us are *&%$ing miserable.


And then it is, finally two hours later, its off to see the actual wild horses.
But on the way;
How about those French?
Did we know they think they better then us?
Did we want to know how he put them in their place?
Did we know he spoke perfect French and could offend them in their own language?

And then finally, finally an actual, real life wild horse.
But he just couldn‘t keep him mouth shut..
Did we know that horses are smarter then most people?
Especially those idiots who named the town Custer?
Or those idiots who built Mt. Rushmore?

And Nick’s back is a ramrod and his lips are all pursed together.

Did we know they had screwed it up the first time? Did we know that?
They had moved it from one mountain to another? And one face to another
Finally, poor Nick, in an agony of defensiveness, finally pipes up and said that they TELL you that in the tour.
“So their finally admitting to it, are they” he said querulously..
I patted Nick on the back in a show of solidarity.

And finally, we get to the last herd, rescued from the Utah canyons. The ranch had done a DNA test and these horses were the direct descendants of the horses the Spanish conquistadors rode in on.
Which is actually, really cool but just way too late to salvage this.

Look, there’s a prairie dog shouted Ronnie, my four bolt for the side of the bus.
O those varmits, the guide said, which eliminated any possibility he would ever be a friend to the Ms.

And at last, the bus bumped its way back to the general store, dust cloud, flies and all and the misery ends.

The souvenirs, (more like war medals) were picked and I was left to pay while everyone headed towards Sherman’s air conditioned cab.
I looked over one stuffed neighing horse, two wild horse hats, two hat pins, and two small plastic mustangs.
I am waiting for the total when D. poked his head in.
“Hurry up”
I said“ ok I’m just trying-”
The screen door slams. A minute later he poked his head back in
“Oh, and someone drank your water.”
Well then.
I pull out the money and the cashier whispered she’d thrown in a free water because she’s a mom too, and gave me a tight smile.

Back at Sherman, I am greeted.
“We took a vote. This sucked. I mean really really reaally sucked” declared D.
“Yes it sucked, really sucked” declared Nick.
“This was the worst by far the worst thing we have done on this trip” D. said.
“Yep. Canoeing was way less sucki-er then this” said Nick
“And that guy was an asshole” D. grumped, pulling his hat over his eyes and slumping in the seat.
“Yeah, an a-hole” said Nick

I think I’m done with South Dakota.

The Jewel Cave

July 3rd dawned beautiful. The kids went outside to admire the hundreds of geese who lived outside the door of our lakeside cabin. Lakeside cabin is perhaps too generous of a word. Our cabin was very small with two pull out beds in the middle of the living room. But I liked cozy. More troublesome was the one tiny bathroom for six people.
Deleted Scene
Followed by scenario B.

Out at Sherman, loading up for the day, I tried to figure out what kind of bird is dropping their feathers everywhere. They are brown and too big to be crows. The kids started to collect them but I told them no, lets hurry up because I am ready! for Mt. Rushmore.

D. had scheduled our second cave adventure, the Jewel Cave lantern tour, at 3pm. All the tours had been fully booked so if we missed the 3 o’clock deadline we’d be out of luck.
So, its Mt. Rushmore, eat and then the Jewel Cave.
That’s the plan, Stan

“Can you name the four presidents who are on Mt. Rushmore?”
“No”
“OK, name one. Just one”
“Nooooooo!!!”
Insert scenario B.

We quickly figured out something was going on as we approached Mt. Rushmore. The roadside parking started four miles before entering the monument and there was an endless stream of back packing parents with strollers and barbeque pits and water bottles.

Apparently there is an Independence Day celebration on Mt. Rushmore. 30,000 people come annually to the mountain to celebrate. By the time we arrive at 10 o‘clock, 29,500 people were already there and the last five hundred were ahead of us.
As we slowly poked Sherman’s nose through the never ending maze of buses, and RV’s and SUVs , it became clear we were in no way going to see Mt. Rushmore today.

“Well, this sucks” said D. “keep driving”
As if I had a choice.

The kids leaned out the window snapping distant pictures of George, Thomas, Teddy and Abe. About 1/2 hour later ( less then ¼ of a mile) they got a profile view of George.
“Look at his nose“ said B.
“Can you see the hair? I think I see a hair in his nose” said Ronnie.
“That’s a booger” said Chase
“Will we see their butts?” giggled B
“That’s just a stupid postcard” said Nick.
“Do they fart? Said B, undeterred.
“I think I smell it” Said Ronnie.
“That would be Nick” Said Chase
Insert Scenario A

What do you want to do now I asked.
“I don’t know” said D. morosely “How about seeing Crazy Horse’s monument?”

We drove another 30 miles to the Crazy Horse monument. It is just like Mt. Rushmore, the largest mountain sculpting but still under construction. it’s a tribute to the legendary Crazy Horse and his culture. Its visitors site has a huge Native American museum and hundreds of native arts and crafts.

Once there, we lined up for the standard video which told the history of the sculptor, Korczak Ziolkowski. He was a man without a family and without roots. He found kinship with the Indians who invited him to do this immense project in the 1948. He stayed for the rest of his life. He died in 1982 and 9 of his eleven children still work on the mountain.

Wow. I thought. What dedication. What love of the culture. How cool to believe in something so much.
Obviously a lunatic, said D.
We wandered through the various artifacts displays, dresses, moccasins, beaded work, pottery.
I found the history of Crazy Horse. He had his first kill at 12, a buffalo. He had a vision at sixteen, interpreted by a medicine man, which predicated he would be a great leader. He was madly in love with a young woman who married someone else. Their love affair continued for many years resulting in Crazy Horse being stabbed by his rival.
I just loved it. The whole thing.

Eventually, Chase and I find a sculpture titled The Death Song. It depicted a Lakota warrior in the midst of battle. He has tied a sash around his waist and anchored it to the ground with a stake. The warrior wouldn’t move from the site until they died or won the battle. Already his horse lay dying, and this warrior is poised for battle singing about his death.
“Wow” I said to Chase. “Isn’t that heroic?”
“Sure” said Chase already moving on.
I am just not going to impress her.

Outside, on the veranda we get a good look at the memorial in progress. The head is mostly visible. If you looked closely, you could see workers, like ants, scurry over the top. There is also a scaled model of what it will look like when it is done. It is being done three dimensionally and will probably not be finished in our lifetime.

While walking across the veranda, I spotted a Native American in full dress garb. He was exotic, dressed completely in black, with beads and embroidery. His head dress was a turban of black and white turkey feathers which slung way down over his eyes.
He was drinking a sprite and talking on his cell phone.
I grabbed a camera to take a picture but its batteries were dead.
“Quick Nick” I said “Get a picture”
Nick tried but it was too late.
D. changed out the batteries.
“How many of those do we have left” I asked.
“Very little” He replied “Keep an eye out for a radio shack”

Just as we were about to leave there is a demonstration of Native dancing. At the end, the children are invited up on the stage to dance. Bresh and Ronnie exuberantly run to the stage. To the beat of the drum, Bresh does the Macarena. Ronnie follows suit. The twins grabbed their cameras and pushed video. Bresh and Ronnie preened to the beat. D. and I clapped loudly
We headed back to Sherman.
“ You know what I got? YOU doing the MACARENA!”
Insert scenario C.

The take from the Crazy Horse Gift shop: One stuffed buffalo, one wooden Teepee plus canoe, two Crazy Hats, three Crazy Horse Hat pins. Nixed at the counter where two arrows with very sharp tips. Both Ronnie and Nick were very disappointed.
And then it was on to the Jewel Cave.


We drive and then we drive some more because we are waay to early for The Jewel Cave Tour. I am feeling a little tired and not very enthusiastic. The kids are feeling the same way.

“Mooove OVER”
“I’m tired I just want to get some sleep”
“You’re on my side”
“I’m not on your side. The pillow is. ”
Insert Scenario B


“Stop It. STOOPP IT”
“I’m just fast forwarding through the previews”
“Give me the channel changer”
“No. Its just PREVIEWS.
Insert Scenario C.

Deleted Scene.
Insert Scenario C.

I decide that nixing the arrows was a very good idea.

We do make it to the Visitor’s Center, together, as a family, in one piece. But a new bit of trauma arouse. The visitor center ran a continues video of our tour, the Lantern Tour. It showed long dark tunnels and squeezed spaces and tight bends. And its pitch black, except for the shadows of the lanterns. . Chase said she doesn’t want to do it. I don’t want to do it, either. I ask D. if we can get out of the tour because it doesn’t look all that fun. He pointed out that all the other tours are booked. And what, we were going to come all this way and not do a tour?
O Dear.

I give it a second try by asking the Rangers if there might be a size issue? Maybe only a member of the seven dwarfs can go? Well, no. Not the case. Apparently, bellies, lung tissue and facial skin are malleable enough to pass through the tunnels.

With nothing left to do, I tried to distract everyone by watching yet another Visitor’s Center’s video on the wonderful rock formations, even better the Wind Cave. The formations ARE beautiful, all blues and whites and curly cues. There are stalagmites and stalagtites, floating crystals, water crystals, gypsum flowers and a mummified bat. And everything appears to be so… spacious that I think the first video must somehow give the wrong impression.
Ronnie worried the cave might give her diarrhea again.
Chase insists she doesn’t want to go.
And Nick, sensing weakness, professed his absolute desire to go on the tour and insinuated anyone who didn’t want to squirm through tiny holes are coward.
Insert Scenario A.

Eventually, we went for a walk outside the Visitor Center with a good hour left to waste. I hoped to burn off the kids and my nervous energy.
“Tell me the parts of a cell”
“Atoms followed by molecules-”
“Wrong”
Insert Scenario A.
Some kicked someone else, complicated by someone else video taping it.
Insert Scenario B and C
D. started yelling and swatting.
Insert Scenario D.
On that note, we leave for our tour which started on the other side of the center so we have to drive there. Pretty much, I am thinking I don’t want to be in a car with these people, let alone in a tight crawl space.

Suddenly, as we drive to our site, Bresh burst out “We are going to die! I love you. Nick” The covers her mouth, as if not to let any more words escape.
We were all startled into silence.
“The guilt just seeped out of me” She said between her fingers.

Hey, wait a minute, I DO like my family.

There’s about ten other people on the tour. The lanterns (actual oil lamps) are lit and handed to everyone except Bresh and Ronnie. And we started.
The first video was correct.
First, the lantern gave absolutely no light. So yes, it was pitch black. Second, It WAS all crouching under overhangs, squeezing around posts, navigating narrow passages. And that was before then we came to the stairs.

Actually, the Ranger called them “stadders” a cross between stairs and ladders. Ninety ( 90!) teeny tiny steps, maybe eight inches in width, down, down, down, steeply down into complete black nothingness.
You had one hand on the lantern and one hand on the rail or, in my case, I had a choice: Ronnie or the hand rail. I tried it with Ronnie on the side of me. No room. I tried it Ronnie in front of me. She slipped and another visitor stopped her fall. Finally, I made her follow behind me, holding on to my pants. She kept saying “Yeewh, mom, I’m touching your butt”
“Its that or death” I hissed back.
I could heard D. huffing and puffing somewhere behind me, waay behind me.
Once, being slow I came to a wall and didn’t know which way to go. It was a hairpin turn but damn, in the dark, which hairpin?
I sure hoped this was worth it. I hadn’t seen even one crystal yet.

Then we round a corner to an open cavern. I was immensely relieved to have my feet flat on the ground. I did a head count.
Are you OK D? I whispered.
Yes. How about you?
I took a breathe and composed myself

In the center of the cavern were stairs going straight up into a hole in the ceiling. At last I think, we are going to see something beautiful.

Then the guide said this is the end of the tour. This is where the famous Herb and Jan Conn discovered another entrance to the Jewel Cave ( and points to the stairwell which I now noticed is blocked off) after fifty years of existence.
The guide proceeded to talk about all the beautiful sights in the OTHER cavern above us and the other 140 miles of Jewel cave ABOVE us.
And there you have it.
We turned back went up 90 teeny tiny steps, crouched through holes, squirmed around posts.
Then we exit the cave into the sunlight with all our limbs unbroken, our kids accounted for, our belly fat and our facial skin intact still intact.
“That would make an awesome Disney ride“ said Ronnie
“It smelled like fart in there” said Bresh.
“I heard Mom fart this morning” said Ronnie

Sigh.

South Dakota Day 1

Our first day in Rapid City, South Dakota started late but 15 hours in Sherman the day before made us reluctant to crawl back in. We couldn’t decide what to do. I wanted to see Mt. Rushmore but it was hot and hazy. Maybe it would be clearer tomorrow. D. had the Wind Cave high on his list and that is where we pointed Sherman.
As we leave, D. leaned out the window to see if he has cell phone coverage. He doesn’t.
I asked him if he thinks he’s missing out on anything.
He said he wasn’t but kept fiddling with the cell.

At the visitors center, we sat through a video. It explained the geological forces which shoved the Black Hills up, creating the cave from limestone and pools of water. We saw pictures of the cave’s unique rock formation, called boxwork. We learned how the cave “breathed”, when the atmosphere pressure above tried to equalize with the atmospheric pressure in the cave. It created a “wind” from the cave.
It was mildly interesting. The kids were ready to go on the tour. Ronnie, in particular, wanted to see the rocks.
The guide started by telling us not to touch any of the formations. The oils on our hands would destroy them. I saw Ronnie put her hands behind her back.
What a great little kid she is.
The guide led us in about ½ mile. There were dim lights along this particular tour. I hadn’t brought my glasses. I couldn’t really see what the guide was pointing to but the kids did. They started clicking away with the cameras. D. carried plenty of extra batteries on him and whispered half way through that, when we return above ground, we needed to find Radio Shack. Quick. We are more then half way through the thirty we had brought from Washington.

About then Ronnie handed over her camera. I figured her battery went dead. I changed out the batteries but she didn’t want it back, instead clung to my hand. A few minutes later, she said the cave was making her feel weird.
I whispered back we are half way done and yes, it is a little scary to be soo far under ground. She continued squirming. A minute later she repeated herself, twisting more on my hand. She felt funny. She felt weird.

Well, I said a little less sympathetic, its TOO late to not do the tour so she needed to hold it together. But she became more insisted. She really was feeling sooo weird. This cave was making her WEIRD.

Annoyed, I start to come up with bigger and better threats.
Does she want to be the ONLY Sibling who didn’t finish the tour?
Does she want to go back….. ALONE?
And while she tearfully denies all the above, a light bulb goes on.
Ronnie do you have to pee?
No she says through gritted teeth I have to poop.
O poo.
We are 180 feet underground, only half way through the tour and I didn’t have the faintest idea what to do. D. came over. He tells her to sit when the guide is talking. I wasn’t sure how that would help but had nothing else to offer anyway.
I started counting the minutes by guessemation.
15 minutes more
12 minutes more
11 minutes more.
Then had to start all over because I obviously was way off base.
Is this thing ever going to end? Would everyone just please stop asking questions?
B came over and hissed at Ronnie to get up off the rocks. Doesn’t she know she is DESTROYING the Wind cave?
D. swatted her away. B looked on disapprovingly.
Finally, finally , finally, the guide summarized her tour and pointed to a little crevasse in the wall. The exit had been near us for the last quarter of the tour.

Later, D. asked Ronnie if she feeling better and she said yes, but she just couldn’t be sure the cave wouldn’t give her diarrhea again.
D. asked me if I enjoyed the tour.
No!



Once back on top, D. wanted to return home but we were so really close to The Mammoth Site, I wanted to go see it.
“ Wouldn’t it be cool to see some Woolly Mammoth bones?”
“Nope” D. said “It will be cheesy and stupid.”
“How are bones going to be cheesy and stupid?”
He didn’t know but he was sure they could make it cheesy but IF I wanted to see cheesy bones well then, fine, lets do it.
I checked with the kids. Seeing cheesy mammoth bones sounded just fine to them.

During the short drive there, D. adjusted the cell phone. When we reach the Mammoth Site, he’s pleased. He DOES have coverage.

We had extraordinary luck. The next tour started in 5 minutes. I rushed Ronnie to the bathroom, just in case. When we returned, the others were in the souvenir shop and it is my kind of shop! Stuffed dinosaurs, stuffed buffalo, excavation tools, puzzles, models, rocks. This was by far the best shop we’d seen.
The kids thoughts too. And could I PLEEEEZZZZ buy the gifts now?
No, I reluctantly said, souvenirs are AFTER the tour.

Then we went in and learned about how sink holes were created, much the same way Wind Cave was, and how this site was discovered when a bull dozer set about digging for a fancy housing development.
The guide took us to the perimeter of the pit and showed us the various levels of sediment. He explained how slippery the sides of the sink hole would get when wet and the mammoth too heavy and flat footed to get out. Then he had us stand under a display model of a Columbian mammoth and compared it to an our modern day elephant. Nick posed under the mammoth.
The kids whipped out the cameras. D. squinted at his cell phone.

Then we went on to learn the difference between a Wooly mammoth and the Columbian mammoth, mostly habitat. The Columbian preferred warmer climates but Wooly mammoths had also been found, indicating that at some point South Dakota had been very cold.
Hard to believe when it was ninety degrees out.
We learned the dig had uncovered mostly male mammoths which were probably younger and less cautious then the females.

Two of four cameras went dead. We had left the remaining few batteries in Sherman. Its ok, I told the kids, two is enough.

The guide showed us the active site where the bones were being swept away by hand brushes. Some uncovered skeletons were easy to see, others required more imagination. The guide pointed to outside the pit where full skeletons had been assembled. The kids kept clicking away. I noticed D. was checking emails.
The guide was just explaining that there was an estimated 30 feet more to go on this dig when I noticed an interesting skeleton, the predecessor of a mountain lion.
It had an elongated head, no teeth and a perfect rib cage.
“Chase, I said wickedly “does that remind you of anything?”
“Mom!” She frowned “I just now forgot about it. Thanks a lot”
I took a picture anyway. Then the third camera went dead.

After the tour we headed for the museum where the kids posed inside a replica of a indigenous home built with mammoth bones. Bresh wanted to see the lab in the basement. The others wandered out to the gift shop.

I took her. She was very excited.
“A veterinarian needs a lab right Mom? I’ll have a lab when I’m a Vet.”
We stopped at the windows. Behind glass walls, you could see the tables with artifacts laid out and in the windows were pictures of the paleontologists and their finds: fossils, the leg bone of a mink and the skeleton of a frog.
That just amazed me. The frog couldn’t have been bigger then 1 inch. I get how you stumble across a four foot mammoth tusk but a one inch frog? How could something that tiny been completely recovered? And reassembled? And scientists know what it was?
Back on level one, D. had put the kabosh on souvenirs.
Too expensive. Too much. Too late. Too everything. Translation: no emails worth mentioning.
I was really disappointed but kept mum.
Back at the car I asked D. if he like The Mammoth Site. Was it too cheesy?
It was ok, he said, checking coverage again.

Parenting on a x-country trip

I have establish a useful ledger on Family Behavior. When indicated, please insert specified scenario.

Scenario A: Sibling I baits Sibling II into a verbal confrontation. Verbal confrontation escalates into a physical altercation, usually followed by a full frontal attack. The remaining siblings choose sides. Takes approximately 10 minutes to peak or until a parent is provoked enough to intercede.

Scenario B: A territorial infraction. Defined as crossing seating lines, touching seat belt, encroaching feet into seat space, repeatedly rapping back of seat with feet or otherwise touching anyone anywhere. Includes both purposeful and accidental infractions resulting in same outcome. By passes verbal stage and goes directly to physical retaliation. Five to 7 minutes peak depending on the non driving parent tolerance.

Scenario C: A technology infraction. Defined as touching laptop, touching digital camera , touching video channel changer or taking unflattering pictures of siblings and threatening to post them on the internet. Immediate full on assault requiring quick parental intervention (this for fear of technology loss, bones heal). Two to three minutes, tops.

Scenario D: Any of the above scenarios complicated by Parent I disapproving of Parent II disciplinary tactics, saying so forcefully, resulting in a long rehash of previous parental failures. The children take sides. No time limit.

We left Montana very early, hoping the kids would sleep until breakfast maybe three- four hours down the road. Sadly, not so.
“Chase, what presidential candidate came from South Dakota?” asked Nick.
“I don’t care” She shrugged.
“Is it because you don’t KNOW the answer” replied Nick.
Insert Scenario A.

“You kicked my head”
“I did not! You put your head down by my heel”
“You moved your heel over on purpose”
“ No I didn’t. You purposely lowered your head down”
Insert Scenario B.

D. had googled “The Best Diner in Bozeman” and it was an ok breakfast in a ok diner with famous people on the wall, only one which I recognized. Michael Keaton, and this only because a batman poster was next to him with his name printed on it.
“Oh sure” said D. “There are a lot of famous people here, such as John Kerry’s first wife.”
OK .

Back on the road, the kids rejected the World at War and Ken Burns Civil War series for a fourth viewing of Ratatouille.

“Do you think the kids are stupid, you know, dull, uninterested? D. asked disappointly. I reassured him the kids are just tired. Secretly, I don’t blame them. Please, World at War for the next twelve hours? Taser me now.

Still it was a little concerning that Ratatouille, even in its fourth viewing, out ranked almost every natural wonder we encounter as we left Montana.
“Hey look kids, look at the waterfall, isn’t it pretty?”
“Huh” said Nick, lifting one ear piece.
“I forgot this part” giggled Bresh. How could she forget? She just saw it an hour ago.

There was one exception. Prairie dogs, real ones this time, who dotted the landscape in the thousands.
“Slow down Mom slow down! I didn’t get the picture of him he was sooooo cute.”
“Oh man, my camera is dead again. Do we have any more batteries?”
Prairie dogs rule.

Eventually, the beautiful mountains, the pine trees and the winding rivers gave way to gentle rolling hills, scrubs and winding rivers. Which gave way to flat lands. Then dry, flat lands followed by even more drier, flatter lands.

“I thought we were in the Black Hills” I said “I don’t see any hills“
D. points to a few distant bumps.
“And I thought they were black. Do they look black to you?” I ask
D. shrugged.
I noticed D. fiddling with his cell phone.
“I don’t think there is coverage.” I offered.
I’m trying to get email” He said “ Beth is just forwarding personal stuff. No work”
“Are you feeling… left out?” I asked
No he denied.
Crackberry rehab is tough.
“Hey, try the radio . Let’s see if we can get NPR“ He suggested.
Crackberry addiction complicated with particular severe case of politicio-itis.
It was going to be a long drive.

Maybe five or six hours in D. asked if I wanted to turn off and see the site of The Battle of Little Big Horn.
Well, yah! I would. I loved Indian history when I was Nick and Chase’s age. All those stories of Sitting Bull and Chief Red Cloud. The kids are just going to LOVE this.

And so we trucked off the highway and Sherman lugged up the road through wrinkly hills to Little Bighorn. As we traveled, I tried to whip up the kids sense of history. Did they know this famous battle? Had they heard of Custer? Did they know he DIED here?
Nick lifted his video handset off one ear.
“Who won?” He asked.
“The Indians” D. said.
“Cool” and then it was back to Ratatouille.

Just as we enter the park there is a warning. Anything taken from the battlefield was a federal offense.
“Wow! You mean there might actually be artifacts out there still?”
“I guess so” said D. dubiously.
If I find an arrowhead I’m keeping it, I vowed.

The kids wilt immediately.
Its hot.
It sooooo hot
Doesn’t it rain here?
What temperature is it at home right now?

At the visitors center, D. opted for a ranger lead lecture. Nick followed. I herded the girls to the (air conditioned) museum. Maybe looking at the artifacts, reading the stories and seeing the pictures would engage them.
Unfortunately, no.

“Girls, listen to this. Crazy Horse said ‘My lands are where my dead lay buried’
I waited for a response.
“Isn’t that beautiful? Tragic? They took everything from this great warrior but they couldn’t take his spirit” I prompted.
I am greeted with blank looks.
“You see, he was fighting-”
Their eyes glazed over. I gave up and continued on, with the three of them trailing slowly behind me. Eventually they wandered off towards the bookstore. Bresh does find one thing of interest. Its a calendar of Prairie Dogs. Maybe I should have spiced up Custer’s Last Stand with some prairie dog casualties.

Back in the car, D. had us drive the battle route. We stopped at Weir’s point.
“You’re telling me Custer couldn’t see 2000 Teepees from here?”
“He does from here but attacks anyway.”
“I wonder what he was thinking, he had to know he was outnumbered”
“He thought he could take them”
“Wow“ I said, thinking of all those white markers which pockmarked the Last Stand Hill.

“Have we left yet” asked B from the backseat.

No one even complained about the lack of souvenirs.

Montana: Yellowstone + "a canoe trip"

Day one: Montana. Yellowstone National Park.

This happen rather haphazardly. D. wasn’t keen on the whole park idea; We woke up late; The kids discovered Prairies Dogs (ok, they aren’t actually Prairie Dogs) and were busy stalking them with the cameras. But Yellowstone was only a half hour away and you have to see Old Faithful, right?

So it was decided. We’d dash in, see Old Faithful blow and come back. Maybe we’d even get to see Yogi Bear and BooBoo.

We left the “compound” with the four kids (waving goodbye to about 35 “Prairie Dogs”), four cameras, one supply bag, one technology bag and two cell phones. We almost lost Chase when she didn’t listen to instructions to keep the windows UP as we drove down the dirt back roads. Her Lucky hat flipped out the window. Check out the picture, we did eventually let her back in.

I was a bit surprised to discover Old Faithful was about 30 miles into the park. I guess I was thinking this was more like the Zoo. You know, park the car, go through a main entrance, do a quick walking tour, buy souvenirs and get back to the cow pastures and the rodents.

But something happened on the way to see Old Faithful. We came upon a small traffic jam. I tried to nose Sherman around but no luck, both the lanes were blocked.

What are these assholes doing? D. asked, peering ahead.

We quickly discovered what. They were taking pictures of a buffalo. And…. Wow! It was the most amazing buffalo. He was sooo close and soo… mammoth like and sooo majestic, just grazing on the grass. That buffalo changed everything.

From that moment on, it was all four cameras on deck and the kids on high alert.

D. reverted to his most authoritative Navy Lt. voice which became a bit hysterical as the chase went on.

Get ready kids. Are you ready? Get the cameras on. Are they on?! Are they on? Hurry. Hurry your goin’ to miss ittt!!! Give it to me! Give it to me; get Sherman closer, no, CLOSER! Damn. I missed it. Can you turn around?

We leaned out windows, ditched Sherman mid lane, climbed fences, chased wildlife, and plodded through dung heaps and leaped over stone hedges. We saw the geysers, the hot springs, the Paint Pots, the mud volcano and yes, Old Faithful. We gazed at the waterfalls, the mountains, the plains and meadows. We clicked away at coyotes, Buffalo (Oh, sorry, Bison not Buffalo! Just ask Mr. Sheffield!), antelope, Elk and Eagles. It was absolutely breathe takingly spectacular.

We used 12 AA batteries (the digitals ate them at a rapid rate), took well over 200 pictures, spent six hours and made the entire loop around the park.

“Next time, we stay IN the park” vowed D.

We returned to our Prairie Dogs and cow pastures clutching our souvenir bag. Our Take: Four Yellowstone Park shirts, four Yellowstone hats, one pocket knife with Chase’s name, one utility knife, 1 defective “squeeze me” stuffed bear (20% discounted), one bag of “precious gemstones”, one “pooping” bear keychain, one solar powered MOM keychain, one copper bracelet, one pair of copper earrings.

“This did not suck” declared D.

No it did not, I concur.

Day Two: The Dead Moose

Now, I hadn’t canoed in thirty years. D. hadn’t either but he had navigated a Nuclear Cruiser so that had to count for something.

So we rented two canoes, 6 life jackets and two boat pads. We oochied Sherman down the tiniest forestry road, praying no one was coming the other way, to the dock. After excavating a dead scorpion from one of the boats, we divvied up the kids. D. had Nick and B. in an aluminum boat. I had Chase and Ronnie in a green plastic one.

D. led our little expedition out of the inlet into the open glassy lake. It was serenely beautiful. The water was turquoise. The mountains, black and purple with growth, jutted straight up from the rocky shores. The Montana skies beamed down on us. It was idyllic and all ours, not a soul in sight except a lone fisherman far off.

We paddled about a bit, eventually canoed to an island in the middle of the lake and pull the canoes up on to shore. The idea was to swim. However, our canoes disturbed the rocks, and the crayfish living underneath them. At least, I think they were crayfish. You know those lobster-like creatures with little pincers? Well, this was a setback and while D. was able to convince Nick, Chase and B that the crayfish were more scared of us then we were of them, try as we might Ronnie would have none of it.

No way. Absolutely not. One already bit her. Just now, in the water. Right there. On her foot.

The others strip down to their swimsuits and tiptoed into the water. I give up and set Ronnie on a rock. This arrangement lasts a minute when the bees start bothering her.

The BEES! MOM! Here! Right here! One just stung her. On the shoulder or maybe on the life jacket or maybe UNDER the life jacket.
Fine, I say, sit in the canoe. Bees don’t like canoes and they won’t sting you there. Ronnie complied, lower lip puckered out, arms crossed. The other three kids join D. in the deeper water, howling at how cold it is.

Then the flies start bothering Ronnie.

I started to get really annoyed but we are both distracted when B. declares she simply must pee and where the bathroom? To which D. and I point to a large rock and she giggles and crosses her legs and protests too much. And the twins howl for the cameras and declare this is going in THEIR blogs And Ronnie declared she also needs to pee badly, very badly and finally both go behind the rocks and the crayfish are forgotten.

Then, somewhere along the line we notice our voices echoed.

Well, this is too just way to much entertainment for the Family.

Each family member takes a turn yelling. B whoops. Ronnie offers up a pterodactyl scream. Chase yells “You Suck” Nick seconds it. D. shushes everybody, takes a huge breathe and bellows. And I swear, the pine trees bend over by the shear velocity of his projection. The sound comes crashing back on to us to all our utter delight. We collapse onto each other in giggling, self satisfied heap.

And then we hear a disembodied sound

“Who”, says a she- voice, “ is making that racket?”

We are momentarily speechless. A minute later a red canoe rounds the bend of our island and comes into sight.

“Where are you from?” the she voice demanded.

“From Seattle” Offered up a chagrined D.

“Well go back” she states, “you’re scaring the wildlife”.

Then she paddled furiously away.

This did knock the wind out of our city slicker sails. So we gather up all the shoes, and socks, and t-shirts, life vests, kids and oars all the while commenting on Ms. Crab Apple Red and her sucky attitude.

“She sucked,” said Nick.

“Yes she did” said D.

And we paddled to another part of the lake still enthusiastic albeit quieter and were greeted again by the crayfish and their neighbors, the water snakes.

I ask D. if water moccasins are only in Georgia and Nick informs me that Mr. Sheffield says they are in Lake Michigan and so he, Nick, assumed they could be here in Montana too. This declaration doesn’t deter Nick from wanting to catch them. I wondered if the snake could in fact BE poisonous and insisted Nick leave it alone. We decide to move further down the cove.

There, we stretched out on the ground and let the warm sun beat down on us. D. pulled the Yellowstone cap over his face. Nick copied him. Chase laid out in the canoe and I wondered why I didn’t have the foresight to have packed a lunch.

D. says “This sure doesn’t suck”

And I agreed. It doesn’t suck. Yellowstone was sooo yesterday.

Eventually, we decided maybe it is time to head back and D. shoved off with Ronnie and N. in the aluminum canoe. And as I pushed off to the middle of the lake a single cloud passed over my head and blocked out the sun. I looked up and it looked, well, a tad dark and ominous and was that thunder? Wow. I thought. I sure hope it doesn’t rain. A few strokes later I definitely heard thunder and there wasn’t just ONE cloud in the sky. There were many. D. called from the other canoe that he sure hoped it wasn’t thunder because where there is thunder, there is lightening and being in an aluminum boat during a thunderstorm would be bad. Very bad.

Now, it’s important that I write down exactly how the next events unfold because Merinos really enjoy storytelling and this event doesn’t actually need embellishments but will in due course get some.

We knew we weren’t going to make it to the dock before the rain starts but we did make it to the next spit. I pulled up just as D. tried to exits his canoe. The boat tipped over. N. and Ronnie spilled into the water. This is followed by offended shrieks and D- issued commands. N. and Ronnie emerged wet but unharmed. D. followed, his face arranged in his lets-try-and-make-the -best-of-this. He’s not very good at the face. We hauled both the canoes up further up on the ground and crouched under the overgrowth. The thunder clapped. A jagged piece of lightening streaked. The wind whipped about a bit and the rain started in earnest.

Ronnie shivered. B said she was scared. I said, think about Survivorman. He does this all the time. This is fun. THIS is an adventure.

Survivorman led to a discussion about who we’d eat first. B, because she is a vegetarian and thus be saved from having her morals conflicted or D. because he could supply lots of food until we are rescued. But eventually it started raining harder and it was really wet and cold. The boats were drenched, the shoes were drenched, the clothes are drenched; We were reduced to silence. The kids sat glumly on a log. Hunched over, with Nick’s shirt as a hat, Ronnie reached out and plucked a thistle. She handed it to me and told me Survivorman said you can boil this and make nice hot tea and could I boil this thistle? She shivered for effect. I felt badly for her.

“This sucks”, said N.

Chase seconded that.

We all concurred.

About 20 minutes later, there was a lull in the rain. The clouds were still roiling above us but D. said we just needed to make this turn and we could be at the dock in just minutes so let’s MOVE it. Obediently, Chase, Ronnie and I hopped in the canoe and push off. We moved out about 500 feet when I heard shrieks from the shore. They had capsized again, this time dumping everyone and everything into the water. I heard B sobbing and D. cursing a blue streak. I turned the canoe to go back.

“Go! Go! D. yelled "I’ll meet you around the bend".

“Oh God” said Chase “B must be terrified.”

“Keep paddling, honey” I said, gritting my teeth “Daddy has it all under control.” Hmmmm.

A few minutes later Chase said she didn’t recognize anything.

“The dock is just around the bend” I said “Keep paddling” I look back. D. hadn’t left the shore yet.

I don’t remember it being this shallow, Chase complained minutes later. I looked down. It IS shallower then I remembered. And murky. And there was this icky green growth sucking on my oar. The clouds were darker and the wind picked up again. I looked back, D. was far in the distant but coming

“Keep going” I said irritably.

But eventually I had to admit this wasn’t the right way. We stopped and waited for D. to catch up so we could tell him we’d gone the wrong way. Our canoe bumped against the murky bottom. We silently shook the green gunk from our oars. The seepy bogginess settled in.

Then, Chase spots IT, mere inches away.

IT was an enormous skeleton, partially submerged in the water; an elongated toothless skull sticking up from the green gunkiness, it’s rib cage arched out of the water, its spine curved in a perfect semi circle. Four spiny legs, minus hooves, disappeared underneath our canoe.

Ewwwwhh. Icky. Freakish, in fact.

“What is it?” asks Chase, stricken.

“A cow.” I said, trying to keep my voice causal despite the creepy crawlies running up my spine.

“Do we have to stay by IT? Can’t we leave?” pleaded Chase.

“No, No. We can leave, we can leave. Let’s go meet Dad.” I said, sharing her panic.

Back at the dock, Nick said, “Well, canoeing definitely sucked.”

“The canoe capsizing that really sucked” contributed B.

Chase added “Dad, we would have never beat the rain ‘cause you would have taken us the wrong way and we’d be stuck by that dead thing on the water until it was all over. And that would have sucked, big time.”

I concurred.

“The next inlet? The skeleton? Oh, that’s probably the moose the bear got last spring” Said the ranch manager.

Eaten by a bear. Now that WOULD suck.

Tally so far:

11 slug bugs

5 spilled drinks (Chase four, Ronnie 1)

Road kill: Two dead birds, one dead deer, one furry thing, not small enough to be a house cat, one moose

“Mom, you can’t put that moose down as just a carcass! That’s something that will scar me for life!”

Missed opportunities: none