One summer the Cowman and I setup cowcamp in a fifth wheel on a ranch in SE Oregon. The ranch had a small but nice RV park in the middle of it. Most of the RVers were there for the summer, so everyone watched out for everyone else. There was a big center lawn area with a bonfire pit and a club house with laundry facilities, and hot showers.
I met a couple of knappers there and they showed me where to find obsidian and how to knap obsidian knives and arrowheads. I never came close to being as good at it as they were, but it was interesting to learn. I still have a few of my points.
Just over the ridge from the park was a small draw ringed by pines and Junipers. A tiny creek wound through the draw and was surrounded by a stand of Quakies. Many with carvings on them. There must have been a homestead there at some time as a few pieces of foundation from a log cabin could be seen.
After a long day in the saddle I would often take Max, the wonder cow dog, and a rifle and go there to explore. Or just read if there was enough daylight left.
On one of my trips around I came on some big nests up in the pines. When I got back to camp I asked the Cowman what had made them. "woodrats," he explained.
Thereafter we always opened the hood on the pickup before we took off in the mornings to make sure they hadn't made nests in the engine overnight.
One night as the Cowman and I were playing a game of Cribbage we heard a small scratching noise under the sink, damn mice. We thought we had done a fair job of sealing up the trailer so no mice could get in, but after that the Cowman got some high powered glow in the dark poison and put it in a bait station under the sink. No more scratching, or signs, so we kinda forgot about it.
After one very long day, as we sat at the dinner table playing the four millionth cribbage game, an unholy noisy ruckus came from under the sink. The Cowman signaled for quiet, tiptoed over to his boots, grabbed one and headed toward the door under the sink. He pulled open the door, and there was the damn biggest woodrat. He must have been chowing down on the bait, cause he positively glowed green. He took one look at the Cowman and launched himself at him. So, there is the green glowing woodrat attacking the Cowman, while the Cowman is swinging his boot, trying to get the upper hand. Round and round they went, with neither having much success other than to wreck havoc on the kitchen. Max who had been sleeping by the door came to stand by me and watch the show. Finally the woodrat made a mad dash back under the sink and escaped back outside through a small hole in the wall. The Cowman gave me the steely eyed look, and said "don't you dare laugh". I busted up laughing.
We never saw another that summer, I guess one was enough.