Fall is the time of year when some of the greatest migrations on the planet take place.
Malcolm and I have been off the road and, for the most part off line, for a little over a month now. While we were off, our time was consumed with gathering, packing, loading, and then the reverse of all those actions.
One chilly evening we were down by the water working on getting some things loaded before dark, when a familiar but seldom heard sound reached our ears. And sure enough, when we looked, way off on the horizon we could see a long wavering line of sand hill cranes making their way towards us. Have you ever watched them in flight? They do not fly with the organization of geese and ducks. It always looks to me as if they are constantly trying to straighten their line, and failing time and time again. This particular group made their way to the lake behind the house and were well into their circling (which takes a while) and landing routine, when we noticed another line off on the horizon. And behind them, another line, and once they were landing, another line, and it went on like this for an hour or more! By the time they were finished, there must have been hundreds of them up on the lake, and it was all I could do not to abandon Malcolm to the work and sneak up there with the camera. If not for the fact that it was too dark for decent pictures and that I didn't want to risk disturbing them, I would have done it.
As it was I did end up with a picture of their great migration. The next morning, Malcolm and I had to run an errand and we left pretty early, just as the cranes were gathering into their various groups and heading on east.
After that, there was just one more migration to get taken care of. It involved a lot of early EARLY mornings,
Some "people" are good pickup travelers.
All those crazy Carlie Jean pictures are actually from the first three hours of our first trip. Which should be enough explanation as to why I kicked her out into the Peterbuilt. I thought I was going to go crazy. Apparently our Carlie Jean, the big truckin' dog, is not so much of a little truckin' dog. It was a lot quieter once she was moved, but really not that much more pleasant.
It was tiring and long and tedious because it was the same trip, same scenery, and driving a pickup is actually a lot more tiring than driving the big truck. Can't explain why. It just is.
It took three trips.
Trip one was pickup and Peterbuilt and then the Pete stayed in TN and the pickup went back to MT.
Trip two I hauled the horses down with the pickup while Malcolm took the Kenworth down with the hopper. Our broker actually got us loaded for that one, so we got paid to move our stuff more or less.
Malcolm got there a day after me and the horses, but all ran smoothly and we didn't have any problems. The horses were relieved to get off the trailer and their eyes about popped out of their heads when they saw all that green grass. I don't think they came up for air for at least three days!
Back to migrating:
Then there was trip three. We had moved the trucking business and our horses and tractor, but we still had to go back for our household things. We also needed to haul a couple more things with our pickup. But why drive two vehicles back empty. So, Malcolm, ingenios problem solver that he is....
We loaded up in some cold windy weather, turned around, and got back to balmy Tennessee. We decided to take a couple weeks to unload, unpack, and do some relaxing before we hit the road again.
We had not expected to be leaving Montana. It's amazing how much the road of life can turn so drastically in such a short amount of time. But we've landed solidly on both feet in a wonderful place, where we're surrounded by lots of family and have already had encounters where we've been able to get reaquainted with old friends and already began to form the bonds for new friendships. We love our new home, and are excited about our life here in my sweet home state of Tennessee!