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Where the wild things are
Neverstill Ranch is perched in a dead end valley, surrounded by tens of thousands of acres of forest land. It is truly on the edge of the wilderness. In the wee hours of this morning Rose and I were loading the magic meat truck with pâté, sausage, beef and chickens. Above us the bright, pendulous orb of the moon floated over a dense blanket of fog. In the deep darkness of the forest the chilling human-like scream of a cougar, punctuated by the staccato yipping of coyotes sent chills down my spine. Out in the pasture our livestock guardian dogs, Huck and Bugey stood guard over the flocks of chickens, ducks and turkeys, howling and barking at the full moon in chorus with the wild things. It was at once terrifying and comforting. I thought of my well-worn rifle hanging above the farmhouse doorway and set back to work.
See you in the Magic Meat Truck!
George
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