My Biggest Failure

Rumbling and clattering along the roads near my house to find and empty my trash bin in the predawn darkness, the garbage truck sounds like the arrival of all-out war.   Having awakened only a minute before the arrival of the truck, I step outside and watch the truck—a mobile collection of unreasonably bright lights—thunder and strobe away though the scattered timber collected on the low hills surrounding me.  

Both here and at my cabin, I strove to maintain a quiet presence.  This is my biggest failure in that.

—Mitchell Hegman

The First Day of Summer

Today is the first official day of summer.  Here in Montana, the season names should be accompanied with an asterisk.  A note applied to the asterisk would read: “In name only.”

In Montana, our weather (especially the temperature) regularly entertains wild swings that defy season norms.  We actually hold a world record for the most extreme temperature swing in 24 hours.  In 1972, at Loma, Montana, the temperature rose 103 degrees, from -54 degrees Fahrenheit to 49 degrees.

Most of our goofy temperatures, however, are drops to unexpected lows at the wrong time of year.   I have personally seen snow fall on every month of the year here at my house in the valley.  Just yesterday, on the last day of spring, my vehicle registered only 41 degrees as I crested Flesher Pass during a rain storm.  I am pretty sure I saw a few flakes of snow flitting about amidst the raindrops.   

Today, as I said at the opening of this blog, is the first day of summer.  But if you are planning a trip here in Montana, make sure you bring along a coat.

—Mitchell Hegman

Deadeye Des

Desiree and I spent Friday and Saturday night at the cabin.  On Saturday afternoon, the Wedll Family drove up to overnight in a tent alongside us.  Last year, on a similar stay, the two oldest Wedll kids (Carolyn and Jack) brought along their Red Ryder air rifles.  I spent hours plinking down aluminum cans with them.  Recognizing how much I enjoyed shooting the air rifle, the Wedll’s gave me an official Red Ryder for Christmas.

Naturally, I brought my Red Ryder air rifle with me for our weekend stay at the cabin.  Not only did Carolyn and Jack bring along their Red Ryder rifles; they also brought with them a suspiciously long and narrow gift-wrapped box.  “This is a gift for Desiree from the kids,” Becky Jo said, handing the box to Desiree.

I laughed.  “I think I have a pretty good idea what that is.”  Desiree carefully peeled away the wrapping after being presented the box.  Sure enough, the kids had given her a Red Ryder of her own.  Another Montana-style welcome.

“I guess I need to set up a few cans so we can try our hand a target shooting,” I suggested after capturing an image of the kids and Desiree on my smarter-than-me-phone.”

Weird thing.  Desiree turned out to be an excellent marksman.  She soon began plinking down can after can.  Plastic bottles, too.  Within an hour, she earned the name “Deadeye Des.”

Jack, Carolyn, and Desiree

Deadeye Des

—Mitchell Hegman 

Sweeping Hailstones Inside the Cabin

While Desiree and I were sitting inside the cabin drinking a midafternoon cup of coffee, a storm darkened the skies above our notch-like mountain valley.  A casual rain eventually pattered against the cabin.  “Look,” I told Desiree, “There is a little hail in that.”

Desiree has never witnessed a hailstorm.  She saw grapple falling not long after her arrival here, but not righteous hail.  As we peered out, hail began falling with greater and greater intensity.  The stones ranged from the size of a marble down to the size of a pea.  The inside of my cabin soon roared with the report of hailstones against the metal roof.

Hoping for Desiree to experience the storm with all senses, I did what any other semi-normal person would do.  I opened the cabin door and told her grab her smartphone so she could record the event.  As Desiree and I filmed the storm, hail glanced off the outside step and bounced inside the cabin.

The storm lasted for only a few minutes, but deposited enough hail inside the cabin, we had to sweep it up into a dustpan.  Given that, I guess we shall call Desiree’s first hailstorm a success.

Photo of Desiree Sweeping Up Hail

Sweeping Video

Hailstorm Video

—Mitchell Hegman

Future Huckleberries

Huckleberries have been in bloom, begging first at lower elevations, for a couple weeks now.  If all goes well and the blossoms are properly pollinated, the blossoms will be berries in the future.

The nature of huckleberry blossoms impacts the mechanics of pollination.  Whereas most flowers are easily accessible and freely expose their pollen on open anthers (male reproductive organs), the pollen of the huckleberry flower is hidden away.  For pollination to occur either a small insect will need to climb up inside the bell or a larger insect may be required to “buzz pollinate” the flower.

Buzz pollination (sometimes called sonication) is fairly rare.  Only about 9% of the flowers in the world rely on this form of pollination.  Buzz pollination requires an insect to clasp the flower, or parts of the flower, and vibrate to release pollen.  Oddly enough, honeybees are not capable of performing buzz pollination.  Many bumblebees, seeking to free some pollen for their lunch, are very efficient at this form of pollination.

A recent study conducted by researchers from the Montana State University documented insects visiting globe huckleberry flowers in May and June.  Some 47% of the visitors were bumblebees.  Wasps made up another 23% of the visitors.  Ants comprised 10% of the insects accessing the flowers.  An assortment of other leggy little critters comprised the rest. 

If nothing else, this study will make me go easier on wasps in the future.

I am in favor of anyone working to produce more huckleberries.

Pink Huckleberry Blossom

A Pair of Blossoms

—Mitchell Hegman

Finding an Arrowhead

Yesterday, while walking through a forest at some seven-thousand feet in elevation within the Big Belt Mountains, I glanced down and spotted a partial arrowhead made from flint.  Over the years, I have found a half-dozen arrowheads or partial arrowheads while wandering about my home state of Montana.  I found another one something near ten years ago while walking the prairie near my house.

Such finds always thrill me.  At the same time, a swath of questions rush through me:

How old?   How did the arrowhead find this place?  Did the arrowhead bring down a deer?  An elk?  What did these mountains look like when the arrow flew?  What luck brought me to find the arrowhead in such a remote setting?

I have posted a picture of the arrowhead I found.

—Mitchell Hegman

406 (A Tell)

If you see a “406” bumper sticker on a vehicle, you can be certain the owner of the car is from Montana.  It’s a tell.  Montana’s statewide area code is 406.  The sticker celebrates the notion that Montanans see the entire state as a single community connected by long streets.   It’s rare for a native Montanan to travel to any town in the state and not have some manner of personal connection with at least one person in the town.    

Filipinos have a distinct tell of a much different nature.  This tell applies to Filipinos living abroad.  In this case, you can tell when a Filipino is living in a home if you find a walis-tingting broom at the home.  The brooms are made from the thin midribs of palm leaves bound together on one end.

One of the first online purchases Desiree wanted to make after her arrival here was a walis-tingting broom.

Walis-Tingting Broom on My Deck

—Mitchell Hegman