There Are Strange Things Done on the Conrad Ranch

So today I was doing a bit of Spring cleaning and came across this little ditty from the winter.  It is long past time it was off my desk and shared with you so here it is with many apologies to Sam McGee and Robert Service...

There are strange things done on the Conrad Ranch

That are born in the minds of the lads

And you would think by now that I would know

The good thoughts from the bad.

Our neighbours have certainly seen queer sights

But the queerest they ever did see

Was the day on the ranch that there was no snow

And we decided  to ski

Now the man I know  is from Ontario where in the winter it snows and blows

Why his thoughts would abound that we could ski on bare ground , one only knows

Better question instead  is where was my head and what I could have been thinking

To cross country ski with little snow under trees,  by God I must have been drinking!

It was on Boxing Day when we went on our way to tackle our forest trails

It was hard to glide on the frozen mudslide and we crept along like snails

With encouraging claps and many misleading facts told by the man of the ranch

I believed him when he said that there was snow ahead and decided to take a chance.

Have you ever found a patch of snow on the ground and gone whizzing down a hill

Only to hit frozen mud and with a mighty thud, come to an abrupt standstill

The skis they do stop but not you on top, no you propel forward like lead

And that is how you fall upon the ground in a ball and hit your poor little head

Not once, not twice heck not even thrice you repeat this dramatic display

While the man of the ranch marvels that perchance we could on like this all day

Flopping around on the frozen ground  with legs and skis all bent

You spy on a hill an end to this thrill, in the form of a nice little bench

While catching your breath and enjoying a rest, and thinking of harm in precision

A rustling in trees has you poised to flee as you rethink this resting decision

It must be a moose, time to get the skis loose with the thought to make yourself  faster

The man leaps on his skis and is looking very pleased, and you think HA he’s a silly bastard

Then out from the bush with a swish and a swoosh a figure makes you pause in mid-step

The man of the ranch even stops his flight dance and ponders and takes a breath

For in all of your years in the woods  far and near you have never seen a fur hat

Bouncing up in the air with such pomp and flair perched upon a moose’s fine rack.

Instead under that hat there strode with a pack  our very own resident trapper

He’d been checking his lines when he heard all ‘our’ whines, and wondered what was the matter

With this all sorted out the ranch man gave a loud shout that his heart rate is too much at rest

He skied off across what looked like frozen moss with a couple of snow patches at best

 From across the frozen tundra he shouted back with a thunda’,  come hurry the snow is near

Having  lost my mind  and getting used to the grind, I responded, “I’m coming dear”

Off I went down some grass landing with a thud on my a__, and wishing it all would end

As I lay looking at the sky, out of the corner of my eye, I swore the trapper said “not this again”

Feeling no gain and only much pain, toward the ranch man I sent my worst glare

Come on he shouted and this I should have doubted, there is snow just over there

I know for a fact he said with impact that there is snow in that grove of trees

Not another ski I can go without some pearly white snow, I begged him to leave me please

I gathered my nerve and with much verve, I made the trees at a creep

Now I have to say in the pure light of day  that the snow was really quite deep

Much to my surprise and with tears in my eyes, I was able to achieve a good glide

With my head lifted high because the end was nigh, I began to ski with much pride

And there it was the last hill that looked so calm and still  except for that curve at the bottom

I don’t mean to be picky but it seemed kind of tricky even with snow piled about me like cotton

The ranch man went first, I heard a grunt burst  and then words that it was just a wee bump

But a log over the trail would have been a better detail  and that the skis and I would have to jump

That is it I declared, with my skis in the air, I am out of here, I am done

Skiing on hard frozen mud and landing on your arse with a thud  is not my idea of fun

With a huff and a sigh and my most evil eye off came the skis and the poles with a clatter

The ranch man feigned surprise and stood blinking his eyes wondering what could be the matter

You can stay out here and tromp around with the deer or maybe that fellow over there

For the trapper had moved on and was now on the pond, cutting holes with a great deal of flair

With my temper in a smolder and my skies on my shoulder marching past in a state of high drama

I suddenly noticed by chance that the man of the ranch was out skiing in his pyjamas.

There are strange things done on the Conrad ranch

That are born in the minds of  the lads

And you would think by now that I would know

The good thoughts from the bad.

Our neighbours have certainly seen queer sights

But the queerest they ever did see

Was the day on the ranch that there was no snow

And we decided to ski

Smiling through the pain...truly.

The resident opinionated Trapper

The Pyjamas!