From time to time we feature stories and guest posts from customers that we think are pretty extraordinary. I think you will love author and BENDY friend, Rozanne Enerson Junker’s unique quarantine story. Rozanne unexpectedly found herself in Scottsbluff, Nebraska during shelter in place.
Besides finding joy in her family, Rozanne writes about discovering this historically rich small town. You'll learn about an unexpected friendship with a curious four year old, a realization that a simple stream can tell a fascinating story about the natural habitat of a community, and how her discovery of an old grave yard captured the spirit of our early Pioneers.
Enjoy!
by Guest contributor Rozanne Enerson Junker
Scotts Bluff, Nebraska. Photo credit: Rozanne Enerson Junker
When I left San Francisco for North Dakota on March 4th, I packed my faded blue UGG Adirondack shearling-lined snow boots, a pair of low-cut, warm Salomon waterproof hiking shoes and my denim-colored BENDY's. March is a nasty winter month and I wanted to be prepared.
I had planned a two-week trip—a week to visit my mother (who recently turned 97 years old), sister, brother and their families in northeastern ND and a week in Scottsbluff, Nebraska to visit my daughter and her family with a side trip to the Crane Trust to view the magnificent Sandhill Crane migration along the North Platte River.
Sandhill Cranes, Photo Credit : Rozanne Enerson Junker
An unexpected delay: #SIP
Now, as summer approaches three months later, I am still in Nebraska. The shelter in place order in San Francisco arrived mid-March and all my friends, including my husband, urged me to Stay put! Don't come back! Don't get on a plane. And I haven't.
As the country begins to loosen up and I consider a return trip to San Francisco, I can't help but count my many blessings.
First off, I’m extremely lucky to have enough retirement savings to afford to stay, even at an incredibly economical rate, at the Fairfield Inn. The staff was welcoming and kind and around Easter time, the manager upgraded me to a suite with three windows, including a large window looking west, at Scotts Bluff National Monument and the evening sunsets.
An overgrown bit of water
Looking out the window every morning, from my third-floor vantage point, I discovered a surprising amount of life in the tiny creek that runs along the four-lane state highway. For the longest time, I considered it an irrigation ditch but one of the Fairfield's staff members told me it was Winter Creek, possibly one of the creeks where wagon trains stopped on their way to Oregon.
Winter Creek from hotel room, Photo Credit : Rozanne Enerson Junker
Rich history in the Nebraska panhandle
When I look to my left, over towards the Bluff, I can imagine the hundreds of thousands of emigrants that passed through here headed for Wyoming, Idaho and ultimately Oregon's fabled farmlands. Some say the 2,000-mile trail is the nation's longest graveyard, with 65,000 deaths in 25 years.
And I think of the Sioux, Cheyenne and Arapaho who had hunted buffalo here, whose name for what we now know as Scotts Bluff was Me-a-pa-te or "the-hill-that-is-hard-to-go-around," and who lost their lands to American expansionism.
The Pony Express, transcontinental telegraph and US military all made their way through the Scotts Bluff area.
Nebraska's unique wildlife
But for life in the Creek today, none of that matters. The muskrat travels east to west about 8:30 almost every morning. Sometimes earlier. I've also seen it in the evening carrying greens in its mouth and I wonder if it has a nest somewhere along the route. I've seen tiny footprints in the mud.
A busy muskrat. Photo Credit : Rozanne Enerson Junker
There is also a kingfisher that sits, its back towards the rising sun so it can see better, on the thick cable that runs across the Creek. A kingfisher??? I couldn't believe my eyes and yet, when I checked with my compact super-zoom camera, it was what it seemed to be. I've even seen it catch a small silver fish and watched it smash the fish left and right, against the cable to soften it up, tenderizing I suppose.
Lately, I've seen what I think must be a carp twirling around, shaking up the mud at the bottom of the Creek. I can only glimpse its tail. Actually, I have no real idea what kind of fish it is and might search out an opinion of a knowledgeable person. I've a photo of its two-pronged tail and perhaps that will be enough?
Osprey nest. Photo Credit : Rozanne Enerson Junker
There are two osprey nests nearby. The one out near Lake Minatare was a complete surprise as I came upon it with my new best friend, LJ, the four-year-old son of my daughter's partner. Getting to know LJ and inhabit a four-year-old's world is an unexpected blessing. Together, we also came upon a Canadian Goose nesting and made many trips out to the lake waiting for her eggs to hatch.
Photo Credit : Rozanne Enerson Junker
The second osprey nest is closer to town and I've seen soaring osprey through this marvelous window. I've also seen the ten turkey vultures who, as it turns out, return to Scottsbluff every spring. Not as beautiful as the migrating cranes or osprey, they serve their purpose.
What I've seen most are the melodic red-winged blackbirds that scoot along and among the reeds and cattails. The Creek is almost packed in places and I can't understand how the mamma mallard and her seven little chicks can work their way through. I've also seen a pair of male mallards, but they seem to avoid the mamma and the babies. There are robins, kingbirds, sparrows, grackles and killdeer—common birds that I take for granted, but probably shouldn't.
Mamma mallard and her seven little chicks. Photo Credit : Rozanne Enerson Junker
A few mornings ago, I was astonished to see a great blue heron being chased down the creek by a blackbird or a grackle, I wasn't sure. I recognized the heron by its flight pattern and its size, I always carry a camera to double check what I see. I saw it again later that day but haven't seen it since.
Great blue heron. Photo Credit : Rozanne Enerson Junker
I try to mediate and spend 20 minutes with Qigong exercises in the mornings. I walk five miles a day and do an hour of Pilates twice a week, using a Pilates video that my SF teacher, Ashley Beldon, posted free on YouTube. I have three standing Zoom calls a week.
My unexpected new friend
With pre-school closed and my daughter and her partner working from home, I've been able to explore LJ's world and he mine. I've been a basketball player, a referee, a pirate, a shark, a farmer, a rancher, a cop, a fire fighter, a doctor and a Domino's pizza delivery person. I've also taken turns with nerf guns, squirt guns and swords.
Rozanne's new friend. Photo Credit : Rozanne Enerson Junker
He, in turn, has taken an interest in birds and even uses a large down duvet to make a "nest" that he fills and hatches Easter eggs almost daily. He absconded with my National Geographic Birds of North America and my recent David Sibley, What's it Like to be a Bird? I keep forgetting to get them back.
A few days ago, we walked a mile each way to see two swans and we searched for their nest to no avail but we were excited to find swan feathers, blue robin's egg shells and a nest blown from a tree. I've shown him the hawk's nest in the cottonwood tree along the irrigation ditch just north of Target.
Hawks nest. Photo Credit : Rozanne Enerson Junker
It was 85° here yesterday and suffice it to say that the Ugg's are in the closet. So are the Salome's as they are too warm to hike in but the BENDY's continue to prove their worth! On Mother's Day, I wore them on the three-mile hike up Scotts Bluff with my daughter and her partner.
Mother's Day hike
Small town livin'
Scottsbluff is full of surprises. Every other house has an old wagon wheel, or a Huskers or Go Big Red sign, or a miniature windmill. The homes are well-kept and at the first sign of spring people were in their yards primping as if they were going to prom. There's a great pizza/brewing company that makes a wild mushroom pizza with a cauliflower crust. Downtown appears be thriving even with a Walmart, Target and Dollar General nearby. When the virus closed the movie theatre in town, the theatre created a "drive-in" using the side of a semi-trailer and broadcasting the movie, Goonies, through the car radios.
On my walks, I've seen four-foot-long bull snakes and have been hissed at by a monster rattlesnake, its head and rattle held high. Some sort of pit-bull mix bit me, chowing down and holding onto my leg until its owner called it home, leaving me bloody, bruised and a bit scared. Wood ticks have tried, but failed to find purchase!
Rattle snake. Photo Credit : Rozanne Enerson Junker
I've seen rainbows that stretched across the sky and the best thunder and lightning storm ever. The wind was so strong one day that it blew a car, whose owner had not set the hand brake, straight into the Creek. Sunsets are golden, orange and pink and occur nightly.
Nebraska Sunset. Photo Credit : Rozanne Enerson Junker
Discovery of an old grave yard
I've found one of the most interesting places in Scottsbluff to be the Fairview Cemetery that dates to 1901. My imagination roams as I explore the final resting place of European-American, Native Americans, Chinese, Japanese, and Latinos. There is Nellie Black Bear Pumpkinseed (1912-1974) and Margaret Blue Bird Shangreaux (1921-1971). Stephen R. Streeter (1829-1902), Sam Yamada (1877-1957) and Sankichi Kishiyama (1876-1966) and his wife, Shima (1890-1987). There is Norman and Cleo Red Bear, born three months apart and dying 10 months apart. There is Pantaleon and Epimenia Zamudio, both born in the 1890s, whose tombstone reads descanse en paz, rest in peace. And then there is Jack C. Todd (1898-1983) whose tombstone shows an etching of a cowboy on a prancing horse and reads English Cowboy and Papá Lolo (1850-1934) whose stone reads This immigrant farmworker inspires the struggle of generations. This confuses me somewhat as Nebraska became a state 1867, but weren't all settlers, except for the Native Americans, immigrants? I wonder of their lives, their loves, their joys and their sorrows. I wonder what they would say if they were alive today.
And I give thanks
Some mornings I get sad and feel a bit like Rapunzel, wishing there was some way to escape. To let down my hair and welcome a prince who will carry me off to someplace safe. Feminism be damned, give me the fairy tale!
Then I remember I am someplace (relatively) safe and sadly acknowledge the 100,000+ Americans who have died with the Covid-19 virus and the million friends and relatives who mourn their loss, and I remember that I've found joy in the company of my daughter, her partner and their four-year-old, an overgrown a bit of water and the natural beauty of Nebraska's Panhandle.
And I give thanks for unexpected gifts.
Rozanne and Madison
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