Sucker must be permanently branded on my brow. Never can I turn down a charming person telling me an engaging story. This inability to say no has proven to be one of my best traits – it has consistently led me down more interesting paths than I could ever image. One such path led me to the University of Montana’s School of Media Arts and getting one of our lovely Tennessee Walking Horses to star in a movie.

Early one autumn, I answered the phone to find an articulate and creative young man, Alex Pollini, on the other end. He was making a “cold call” to me by way of the number he had found under Horses for Rent in the yellow pages. His earnest voice implored me to provide a horse for him to use for a film he was producing as part of his program at the School of Media Arts. How could I resist – even after he admitted that it would be something of a commitment as he needed the horse to appear in Garnett Ghost Town located some 60 miles east of Missoula? To my ears, this had the sound of a fun field trip with members of our equestrian club, an opportunity to learn something about film making, and getting to see one of our beautiful horses grace the silver screen in a classic western. Naturally, I signed right up.

Not knowing what to expect, I did the logical thing and googled Alex Pollini which took me to Pollini Productions. WOW – this kid has talent! Indeed, as my interactions with Alex began to unfold, I became smitten with everything about this guy. Working with a crew of six to eight people, Alex and his project partner Byran Baldwin always handled themselves like a pros – easily orchestrating complicated scenes, getting full cooperation from all involved, and maintaining a calm atmosphere throughout long sessions of just plain hard work. Much to all of our delight, they ended up doing much of the filming on our ranch.

The horse we chose to participate in the film was Smokey – a handsome “leading man” kind of horse with something of a stubborn streak who has stolen many a young girl’s heart. Smokey fit the part to a tee – big with an imposing presence and a forgiving nature that allows him to maintain his composure while carrying a rider who knew little about horses.

During the filming of various scenes, I found myself interjecting with tips about how the actor should perform certain tasks in order to appear as a real horseman. It made me realize that my own interactions with horses have become second nature – that my body’s muscle memory enables me to unconsciously perform routine tasks with fluid, efficient, and quiet movements. Seeing the actors handle Smokey seemed to magnify those small gestures that distinguish a horseman from a mere passenger on a horse. To the entire crew’s credit, my interference was not only tolerated, but encouraged.

Our November field trip to Garnett Ghost Town proved to be a wonderful close to a year of trail riding. Pulling the horse trailer through snow and ice patches on the road and starting out with our horses slipping and sliding on the icy grass along the trail from the parking lot to the town, we savored the last bits of a glorious fall. Smokey performed like a card carrying member of the Screen Actor’s Guild as he walked up and down the same hill numerous times to get each scene just right. The rest of watched from afar, sitting relaxed on our horses while they quietly grazed and enjoyed the waning warmth of the autumn sun.

The resulting movie, Blood Money, far exceeded my expectations.  The black and white film was shot on 16mm Kodak 7266 Tri-X reversal film and hand processed by the filmmakers. By hand developing the negative, the film became more susceptible to scratches, dust, and other debris creating a visual texture that parallel the themes of the film. The sound mix combined tones and original scores borrowed from classic western films to create a piece unique to Blood Money This wonderful silent movie takes you back in time and capture the experiences of those early day movie goers when western cinemas got their start.

Grateful for our joint venture, I wanted to continue Dunrovin’s involvement with the School of Media Arts which led us to host an “Evening at the Ranch” with a barbeque, student films, equipment demonstrations, and the debut Alex’s and Byran’s film to raise money for their Media Arts lab expansion.

It is truly remarkable that the University of Montana, located so far away from the urban centers most associated with film making, has built such a strong Media Arts program in such a short time. During his Christmas break that year, Alex toured a University of California’s Media Arts program. They impressed him with their expansive labs and high tech equipment; and he impressed them with his access to a horse and a ghost town for his film project. That difference may explain some small part of UM’s success – while other schools may offer access to better equipment and facilities, UM offers access to incredible places and a community ready to embrace them – a city full of people who, just like me, have sucker branded above their brow.

Dunrovin Ranch has the great fortune to have Geoff Pepos use his many talents as an artist and film maker to help us tell some of Dunrovin’s many stories. Recently Geoff has been working on a series of shot films about various aspects of Ozzie and Harriet’s story. This means that Geoff and I (SuzAnne) need to make occasional trips to Helena to follow Ozzie’s postmortem journey to become part of a permanent osprey display at the beautiful wildlife educational center, Montana Wild, which is operated by Montana Fish Wildlife and Parks. Recently (2/19/15), Geoff and I made yet another road trip to Helena to witness and film the taxidermy process involved in bringing Ozzie “back to life” as a museum mount. I will soon write a separate blog about Ozzie specifically – but here I simply want to share the fun that Geoff and I had on the drive itself.

The day started off with little snow in sight, temperatures well above freezing (horrors – we NEED winter snows), and with a brief, but beautiful, bright pink sunrise as we headed east from Missoula. The morning sky turned a pale blue as the sun slowly climbed into the sky. One my favorite parts of the drive to Helena is the Little Blackfoot River Valley with its steep rock canyon walls, clear river, old homesteads, and tiny towns of Avon and Elliston. The valley rewarded us almost immediately as we exited Interstate 90.  A group of three golden eagles and four or five crows were vying for the remains of a deer that had been hit by a car and was dead along side the highway. They all flew up into the trees as we stopped to get a couple of photos. We drove back and forth two more times, waiting for them to return to the kill, but we were unable to lure them back within better view.

One old homestead caught our eye, which necessitated a second photographic stop. Geoff was unfamiliar with the Montana Beaverslide contraption that the early Big Hole ranchers from Beaverhead County (hence the name Beaverslide) used to create big hay stacks that were both windproof and waterproof because the top layers formed a thatched roof over the hay beneath. Many Montana ranchers continue to use them in spite of the availability of modern baling equipment – which can be more costly to purchase and operate than a team of horses.

We couldn’t help ourselves from stopping two more time as we drove up and over the Continental Divide at McDonald Pass. In the 1930’s, all of Montana’s steep mountain passes were equipped with water fountains on both sides – not necessarily to provide drivers and passengers with a cold spring water drink, but to cool down hot engines and replenish over heating radiators in early model automobiles. We Montanan’s are used to seeing these water fountains along nearly all of our mountain passes – some are defunct and abandoned, some are in ruins, and other are still operative and continue to invite passing cars to stop to fill bottles with the sweet mountain water. Those of us raised in Montana in the 50’s clearly remember begging our parents to stop at each and every one of these fountains to escape the car, refresh ourselves with a drink,  and start a water fight with our siblings. What great memories!

Topping the pass and catching that first glimpse of the Helena Valley and the sweep of the Mountains to the east always requires a momentary stop in the scenic turnout to marvel again at what a wonderful thing it is to live in this great state. My heart will never tire of seeing such Montana scenes roll across my windshield. Nor will my heart ever tire of sharing these scenes with such fun and interesting friends as Geoff. Thank you, Geoff and Montana, for a most enjoyable and memorable day.

Is nature ever not beautiful? My dogs and I have created a well worn path along the Bitterroot River from the morning walks that we take nearly every day throughout the year. Should we not tire of the same scenery over and over again?  Ah, but that’s nature’s secret. It never really is the same. Little changes accumulate into transformed forests. Rivers flood and ebb and creep across valley floors carving new channels, building new beaches and sand bars, bringing new detritus from upstream. Each morning’s cloud cover, down pouring rain, soft falling snow, low hanging fog, or brilliant hot sun all cast different shadows, gather or diffuse the light, and paint with varying color pallets. These every changing features combined with the ever changing tilt of the earth and its seasonal cycles of the plants and animals ensure the each day is a unique display of nature’s endless dynamic jigsaw puzzle.

Yesterday’s morning brought a dusting of fresh snow and some thin, low wispy fog. The western Bitterroot Mountains were completely shrouded, while the Sapphires were back light with the rising sun. The dark bark of the big weeping willows and cottonwood trees stood out against the gray. The first direct rays from the sun highlighted the yellows and tans of the cattails along the marsh. Everything was quiet, pensive, and unhurried.

As I stopped to take a few photos, my two canine companions did as they always do when their games and fun are interrupted. They tried to patiently stand at attention, with Jewel guarding her ball and Kola keeping an eye out for any movement. But a couple of minutes seems a hour to them. Soon they were staring me down with that “let’s get going look”; and when that didn’t work, Jewel merely sat beside her ball.

The silence and the heavy sky keep my feet planted. Then my eyes and my mind looked directly at them and brought into clear focus my two wonderful little canine friends. A moment later,  echos of the conversation that Sterling and I had with our friend Larry during Sunday’s Superbowl floated within mind’s reach. Larry and his family had recently lost their long time dog, Jessie. The family was still grieving – and frankly wondering if Jessie’s death might signal a new dogless chapter in their lives. Their daughter soon graduates from high school and will be spreading her wings, setting her course for collage. They are, like Sterling and me, older parents who are well past retirement age as they face their soon to be empty nest. Visions of traveling and freedom, downsizing their home, and crossing off the items in their respective bucket lists, as well as allergy issues, compete with and complicate the idea of rolling out the welcome mat for another dog.

My own mind can’t grasp that concept – life without a dog. I have lived with a dog every year of my life, save the three years that Sterling and I lived in Chile. I am not even sure who I would be sans dogs. Dogs has been a central part of nearly every aspect of my life – where I live, where, when, and how I recreate, who I married. While not really a “dog person”, Sterling knew that it was a package deal – me and my dogs. And he has embraced their presence in our lives.

Dogs have keep me going when I wanted to give in to despair, depression or simple laziness. They pushed me physically and kept me in shape to survive many serious medical challenges. Dogs have listened to rile about injustices – both real and perceived. Warm fur, soft eyes, and wagging tails have helped me emerge from grief, failure, and shame.  They always take my side in any argument; they fend off any stranger who might look cruelly in my direction. They  welcome my friends and they taught my new born babies the wonders of the animal world. May a day never come for me when I must be without a dog.

I hope to end all my days in much the same way I currently end some of my days right now – sitting in the warmth of my living room with my feet up, snuggling with my two beautiful dogs, conversing with my wonderful husband, and watching Downton Abbey. It’s my plan – and I’m sticking to it.