Tourists - Feh!

So yesterday afternoon the boys and I heard engines - lots of engines. Something approached over the neighboring ridge, and it sounded like it was bringing friends. We ran up the driveway to see what was what. Ghost, always open to an opportunity to show off his legs, ran down and hunkered in the meadow, praying to his Speedy Perro fetish that it would be something chaseable. Oh, pleasepleaseplease...

Then not one, not two, but five of those damned 4-wheel ATVs appeared at the end of the ridge, crossed the wash, and headed up the road toward S&L's property. Now, S&L's driveway is not quite at the end of the road, but it's as far down the road as anybody ever actually goes; you can continue straight for another 20 yards or so and then face the impossible, heavily-rutted upgrade, or you can angle slightly right and up their driveway. The traffic pattern indicates that virtually everyone does that last thing, so virtually every tourist does - bypassing the easily-visible 'no trespassing' sign, around a couple of S-turns to the top of the ridge where a chain blocks further legitimate passage. I've never been entirely sure why S&L put their chain halfway up the driveway where it's not visible from the road, but every time I see an unfamiliar vehicle go that way I know what's coming next.

So the boys and I - sans Ghost, who had gleefully chased the five ATVs and knew they'd be back to chase again! Yay! - crouched on our own ridge and watched S&L's driveway. The ATVs actually stopped at the mouth of the driveway and read the no trespassing sign before proceeding to trespass - which I thought was nice of them, to at least acknowledge the sign's existence. Then like all tourists do they rode up the driveway till they got to the chain, and then turned around and came back. Why, I have often wondered, does a symbolic chain stop tourists, when the equally-symbolic sign never, ever does?

Now, whenever something like this happens the boys and I make ourselves clearly visible and as uninviting as possible: Them armed with lots of teeth and seismic, low-pitch barking and roaring; me armed with a nasty-looking rifle. So these tourists did what tourists always do after exploring the wonders of S&L's driveway: They rode back the way they came - ignoring the perfectly good BLM road up to the plateau that would have given them some actual adventure - and we went back to what we were doing. And that would have been the end of the matter - I'd forgotten all about it by bedtime - but along about 11:30 the boys woke me with a cacophony of barking that seemed to indicate more than a howl-off with the local coyotes. Even Magnus was out in the yard raising hell, and Magnus never bestirs himself after dark. Never. Also, I heard Magnus and Fritz, but...not...Ghost. Which meant Ghost had gone into combat mode. Something was actually present and nearby.

I went out and peered into the dark - we're only up to a half-moon, and it had already set - and couldn't see any lights that would indicate people up to no good. Animals don't usually concern me: As long as they stay off our ridge, it's their desert too. But I did remember all those ATVs, and I wondered if a few of those fellows had decided to check out S&L's property after dark. Grumbling, I got dressed, loaded the boys into the Jeep, and drove up to the chain. No sign that anything wheeled had bypassed the anchor posts, and nobody was likely to walk this far into the boonies. But we were already here, so we walked the remaining 200 yards or so, circled the house, and saw nothing out of order. I went home and back to bed, the boys settled down, and sure enough this morning I saw lots of cattle sign crossing the road from the meadow.

Cattle. I hate cattle almost as much as tourists.

Stupid cattle.