Jan: It was a nice day, and we were out cross-country skiing with our dog at the time—Annie Oakley, the first of our three female shelter dogs. We were skiing along the road, and sitting in a big old Ponderosa tree was an eagle.

The moment I saw it, I immediately picked Annie up and tucked her inside my coat so nothing could happen. She also had a bite on her nose that we weren’t sure about—possibly from going out on her own. We had a dog door, and when we weren’t home, she would go down the road to wait for us. We think she might have had a run-in with a fox family that lived nearby.

But the craziest thing that happened was one summer when we had a wood rat—or pack rat—move in.

Nancy: Tell me about a pack rat.

Jan: They’re big—big tails, big bodies. It had gotten into the little attic space above our porch. We were setting traps constantly. We’d hear them running across the logs inside the house and even upstairs. At night, you could hear thumping as they moved around. That summer was... interesting.

Dave: One night, we were laying in bed, and the rat ran right across us. Right across the bed! Later, a stray cat showed up and stayed with us for a bit. The first night it was there, we heard a crunching noise—it had caught the pack rat and chewed off the top half—head, front legs, everything.

Nancy: Nature at work.

Jan: Exactly. We had first noticed something was going on because we were trying to grow tomatoes on the porch. When it was cold, we’d move them inside, but one warm night we left them out. The next morning, the plants had been chewed off—like a beaver had done it. But there were no beavers. So we started suspecting something was up.

Nancy: You’ve shared some incredible stories—skiing in and out, cutting logs, trucks getting stuck in the snow, wildlife, and more. But despite how hard it sounds, I get the sense that you have a deep love for this mountain. Where does that love come from?

Jan: My undergraduate degree was in elementary education and environmental science. Dave and I met in Ely, Minnesota—another wild place. I grew up in an urban environment, but I was always drawn to the wild. The wide-open spaces spoke to me.

Some people move to where we are now in South Dakota and can’t stand the openness—they feel claustrophobic in the prairie. I love that sense of space.

Even though this end of the mountain has become more developed, it’s still a place where people can build their own lives their own way. That’s rare these days—with all the rules and regulations elsewhere.

Nancy: Dave, what about you? What makes you love this place?

Dave: Partly, it’s my family connection. I remember coming up here as a little kid. My grandmother was excited about her new mouse traps. I remember her putting out food for the chipmunks and squirrels. She loved them—until one chewed through the roof and got inside the cabin. Then she didn’t like squirrels so much.

Nancy: You mentioned your mother had a reaction to the snowstorm?

Dave: Yes, my mom was really worried. Her stepfather, Jim Forsling, had died skiing in. So when that snowstorm hit, she thought, “Not again.”

Nancy: Understandable. That’s serious history. But it’s clear this place still holds so much meaning.

Dave:  It’s not just the family history—it’s the people too. In the '70s and early '80s, there were a lot of folks around my age living in cabins, building things themselves. We could afford it back then. That’s not possible now.

Jan: There was a whole community of people who bought small plots down here. Everyone helped each other—hauling sheetrock, painting houses, sharing tools. It was a tight-knit little community. That kind of cooperation was really special.

Nancy: So it was both independence and community.

Jan:  Exactly.

Dave: And there weren’t nearly as many “No Trespassing” signs back then. You could walk around freely. It was open range in many places.

Jan: Up through the early '80s, yes. We even had horses just move in with us one summer. They were probably drawn by the birdseed we left out. And we fed the birds year-round, even though the deer liked to eat what the birds wouldn’t.

This mountain is different from what most people think of when they imagine mountains. It’s still part of the Rockies, even if it’s a “baby sister” range. And the ranchers east of us—out near Esterbrook and Box Elder—they’re still running country schools if the ranch kids or ranch hands have children. That’s rare these days.

I used to love driving the back road to Laramie in summer—watching prairie dogs drag their dead off the road. No one believed me, but prairie dogs are not just herbivores. They’ll eat anything.

Nancy: The wildlife is... persistent.

Jan: Yes, it is.

Dave: We actually met working at the Boy Scouts of America canoe base outside Ely, Minnesota. She came up as part of a college program that got canceled, so she ended up working at the base. Our first date—well, she wasn’t my date. She was my best friend’s date. We were all going into town to pick her up... but as we were driving in, she was already biking out of town.

Note: The transcript above has been condensed from its original audio recording to improve the flow and readability of the story.