Dispatch 52
Rose Cottage, Idaho

December 26, 2021

Greetings, Fellow Adventurers!

My latest mistake was thinking that with only a week or so before we left for the annual trek to Palm Desert, there was no need to get the snowblower out of storage. This is the sort of unfortunate thinking that led to Sir E. S. Shackleton, as well as his ship and crew, being locked in Antarctic ice for months in 1914. 

I was excited to see the first falling flakes, and was eager to get out and shovel the fluffy white stuff, knowing full well that it would be my only chance before I found myself in California sunbathing, surrounded by palm trees and swimming pools. Little did I know that those flakes were just the beginning of a three-day snow storm that has not stopped yet. I have shoveled snow into piles as high as the proverbial elephant’s eye, and the novelty has quickly waned.

The happier news is that Santa arrived right on time, and I received more presents under the tree than my behavior this year merited. Santa is a good guy and understands my limitations when it comes to good, or even civilized, behavior. The only requested gift missing under the tree was a genuine Amazonian blow gun, complete with a dozen poison darts. It appears that the worldwide supply chain issues have made Amazonian blow guns hard to get. Go figure. 

The reason I needed the silent shooter is that about every squirrel in Power County has moved into our backyard to feast at our bird feeders. Obviously, a war has ensued. But of course, the police, on the behest of the neighbors, have strongly suggested I put away my grandfather’s shotgun or risk a holiday incarceration. I suspect none of these law enforcement fellows are Audubon members.

On a happier note, my whiskey business is barreling along. My latest blend of “Old Trout Whiskey,” which I call “Cutthroat,” after the Idaho trout and what this drink feels like going down, has met with great success. I do computer work for the Power County Highway district and those old boys, especially the snowplow drivers, sing its praises. I wonder if that is why so few locals are out driving while the streets and highways are being plowed. That just occurred to me!

My home-built whiskey still, located in the basement, has just about reached production capacity, and I am looking for commercial property to expand. Now, should you have a few of the old denaro to invest, I could, because you are my pals, let you in on the ground floor of a business with a bright future. Well, that is, if the U. S. Alcohol and Tobacco Tax & Trade Bureau don’t come snooping around. Darn neighbors, again!

When I get back to Idaho in the spring, I am seriously thinking about making a bootlegger run into Utah once a month. Many of the boys down there consider my elixir a real blessing, and they need a steady supply. Now, if you are looking for a part-time job, and know the less traveled back-roads of Idaho and Utah, and can lift wooden crates of whiskey in and out of a car trunk, please contact me. Oh, being familiar with a shotgun would be handy. I can supply the shotgun.

Well, that is about it for now. While writing this, the snow has started again. I am certain Scout is wondering when I will continue the dangerous work of shoveling the driveway. Fortunately, I have plenty of firewater to keep me warm.

Scout and I hope this note finds you perky, and that you have plenty of hooch, and someone to smooch!

 Dispatch 51

Rose Cottage, Idaho
August 20, 2021

Greetings, Fellow Adventurers!

We have returned from this summer’s Trout Camp--three adventurous weeks in the rugged Boulder Mountains, practicing my camp craft and survival skills. Fortunately, we had some nice rain showers and cloudy weather to keep the high temperatures somewhat in check. You may have heard we have been having a hot spell out here in the west. Scout has made matches off limits to me, so the forest is significantly more safe.

Speaking of matches, did I tell you that I burnt off some weeds this spring? I got finished, thought I had the fire dead out, and went in for my lunch. After I had my sandwich and chips, I looked out the window and started wondering where the smoke was coming from. I jumped up, ran outside and saw that I had set my own fence on fire. As you know, such events are not that unusual in my life, but all summer my pals have been ribbing me. Oh well, live and learn.

You are probably wondering how the fishing in Trout Camp was this season. Honestly, it was terrible. Very little water in the streams, and what was there was too warm for the trout. I did not catch enough fish to feed a hungry cat. I sure hope we get a good snow season this winter.

The garden here at the cottage is doing well. We have lots of tomatoes and other green stuff that Scout makes me eat. I tell her real men live on jerky and beer, but I am coerced into eating a salad every day. She says it is good for me. I say pastries are good for me. We agree to disagree.

Speaking of pastries, a favorite topic of mine, I made my first peach cobbler two days ago and boy was it good. I picked the peaches from a pal’s tree and went to work. The depth of my culinary skills continues to surprise people. Of course, my having any skills at all surprises people.

Now that the temps are trending down, I am thinking about starting up my Dutch oven cooking parties again. I will get out the old iron pots and then raid the neighbor's chicken coop late at night. We will all eat out on the sawhorse tables under the trees in the backyard. It is always lots of fun until the Old Trout Whiskey runs out and then things either taper down and people go home or a big fist fight explodes and the police drop by. Good old Idaho folks!

Say, did you hear that a big part of Oregon wants to join up with Idaho?

Apparently, Oregon politics are too liberal for them and they like the conservative politics of Idaho better. I suppose that would be OK, but with all the Californians moving to Idaho, they may be in for a surprise. Personally, it is all the same to me. Seems like the regular folks always get kicked in the pants regardless of who is in charge.

Well, it is about time for my afternoon reading time (nap) and I cannot pass that up. I hope you are all well and looking forward to your Covid booster shot. I know I am. There are lots of adventures in the future and I don’t want to miss any of them.

-Your pal, Old Trout

 Dispatch 50

Palm Desert, California
March 28, 2021
Greetings, Fellow Adventurers!

Sorry, it has been a while since my last dispatch, but I was afraid of using the computer.  I thought it could give me a virus, it seems to always have one. Scout eventually talked me down from that misapprehension.

Anyway, as you may know we are in the desert sands, and I am reunited with my camel Pete.  Happy are the days on Pete, trotting over the dunes in the evening, singing cowboy songs to the moon.  Unfortunately my shortcomings continue to plague me in the most unexpected ways.  For instance, the other day Scout and I went to town for grub.  I had made a few faux pas in camp over the previous days, so Scout headed straight for the drug store to replenish her supply sedatives. Suddenly, for a few ill-advised minutes I was off the leash, as us married fellers say.

I immediately made a beeline for the general store, Ralph’s, to get ice cream, pastries, and anything else that looked good before she caught up with me.  It is good to be foot loose and fancy-free with ten silver dollars gangling in your pocket.

As the store doors slid open, I realized to my chagrin that I did not have my darn viral mask thing.  Everyone wears them like talismans down here, and I was sure they would toss my sorry behind out in the sandy street if I did not have one. I knew I could not go back to Pete for mine because Scout would catch up to me and I would not get any treats. What to do?

Being a resourceful buckaroo from Idaho I realized that right there beside the shopping carts was my solution.  They had one of those little white barrels of very wet sissy towels to wipe your cart down with.  Solution found!

I ripped off a good foot of the soggy things and covered over my mouth and noise, tying them on at the back of my head with a trusty fly fisherman’s knot.  Then I headed for the ice cream freezers.  

Well, gosh, I had not gone ten feet breathing in that rattlesnake juice before I had become dizzy and had a pounding headache.  Also, my fellow patrons were looking at me like I was crazy as I wobbled toward my goal.  By the time I got the cooler door open and my selection made,  I could hardly stand up and was hallucinating.  It seemed all my fellow shoppers now appeared to be snowmen.  This seemed odd, but I have consumed a lot of Old Trout Whiskey over the years and am no stranger to “odd visions”.  

Well, off I headed for the check-out counter and freedom.  Of course, as usual, I had to wait in line. There were about six snow men in front of me.  By the time I got my turn and my dollars laid down I was in pretty tough shape.  I asked the checker snow person if she knew her nose looked like a carrot and I laughed like a jackal at my cleverness.  Of course, she pressed a buzzer and once again security forces arrived in my life.  They removed my mask jolly quick as I complimented them on their coal eyes, top hats, scarves and the quality of the zip tie holding my hands behind my back.

As it happened, just a few minutes later Scout headed toward Ralph’s and there I was zip-tied to a bench outside the door, eyes rolled back in my head, unconscious.  There was also a half gallon of ice cream in my lap, melting in the desert sun and covering me with sticky goop.  By her watch, Scout later told me, we had only been apart about fifteen minutes.  She immediately swallowed two of the nerve medicine tablets she had just purchased and got some security snowmen to lift me up on Pete.

Of course in hindsight, everything turned out just fine, and we can all have a good laugh around the campfire (not Scout so much) and everything turned out just fine.  In the end Pete licked up the melted ice cream. Turns out French Vanilla is his favorite as well.

PS. We are having such a rewarding season here in the arroyo that we are staying two extra weeks and will arrive back at the cottage about April 16. See you all then.