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Show ijijSjj MaDnnunitainmi if j an Chalat Water for the fields, gardens, critters too Somewhere high above the Kamas Valley the flood gates have been opened and now the fields are crisscrossed with silvery ribbons of water. The flow is governed by a system of diversion canals and makeshift dams according ac-cording to ancient formulas passed down from generation to generation. Each rancher has a turn to divert the flow onto his pastures of hay and alfalfa depending depend-ing upon the number of water shares he and his ancestors have been able to buy, beg, borrow or steal. The whole system is overseen over-seen by a water master who inspects the gates and records each turn in a small notebook carried in the front pocket of his overalls. The complexity of the system would be enough to challenge most personal computers com-puters but the water master is expected to keep all of the revelant data (as far back as the pioneer days) under his stetson. Disputes arise and more often than not they are carried on in the middle of the ditch or against the back of a pickup truck so a computer com-puter would be of little use. The seagulls follow the water turns, circling over the meadows until the dandelions and young alfalfa roots are submerged. As the water begins to seep into the ground the birds land and happily tromp through the mud. Then, when the last puddle has been absorbed, ab-sorbed, they fly down the canal to the next set of pates. Dur-r g his turn each rancher is kept busy clearing ditches and hand operating age-old wooden dams. It is not uncommon to see a lone figure trudging across the fields with his shovel over his shoulder at 3 a.m. It way be the slow season in Park City but it is the busy season on the ranch. Aside from providing life-sustaining water for the crops and cattle in the valley, the irrigation canals are enjoyed by a host of wild and domestic creatures. A weasel weaves down the canal, ducking into secret tunnels and then reappearing down stream. A pair of pin tail ducks paddles by, looking for a secluded cove in which to build a nest And under each bridge sky-diving swallows are busy building a maze of mud hutches. Our dogs have discovered a deep pool where the water rushes through a small steel door. They swim toward the door, spin downstream and then madly paddle back against the current. It is their first bath since last fall. The water is barely above freezing and still smells of the snow-covered mountains. Later in the summer it will be warm enough for an evening dip. , The water flows down part of the lane, flooding the wagon ruts and creating a bog around the corral. It spills over the dam, creating a watercress-filled pool and rushing along the fence line past our garden. Sometimes it sneaks into our root cellar and sets our aluminum can collection sailing around the stairwell. When it is our landlord's turn, I dip a watering can in the ditch and feed it to my houseplants. Having come all the way down from the mountains, it has more nutrients, I assume, than tap water. They seem to thrive on it. And so does the valley. The fields are a deep green speckled with yellow, white and blue wildf lowers. The horses dip their heads into the canal to take long draughts while robins splash beside them. Now that the gates are open our memories of a long cold winter are quickly melting away. |