Finding Jack — May All Your Blues Be Birds

I had a survey on BLM that I could only get to by driving through a private ranch. I called the rancher but he didn’t answer, and his voicemail wasn’t set up. So I drove out to the entrance of the ranch and found a house.

A woman came out in fleece pants. I told her I needed permission to drive on the ranch road and the rancher wasn’t answering his phone. She said, “Jack is either branding with my husband, on his tractor, or getting surgery. If he’s on his tractor, he’ll be home by noon.”

It was 11:00.

She texted her husband, but Jack wasn’t there.

So she called Leslie at the Ace Hardware in Jordan. “I’ve got a girl here doing a burn survey and she needs to get ahold of Jack.”

Me, “Bird survey.”

“On his tractor? Well have you seen Scott?”

Leslie saw Jack’s son Scott in one of the aisles. Leslie put Scott on the phone. The woman in fleece pants put me on the phone. I said, “Hello, sorry to bother you. I’m doing a BLM survey and I was wondering if it would be ok if I drove on your road.”

Scott said sure.

We hung up.

The woman in fleece pants asked, “What kind of burn survey are you doing?”

Me, “Birds. I’m counting birds.”

“Birds! Oh, I’ll have to call Leslie back and tell her it’s birds not burn.”