May 1997
After many months of absence the RP has finally returned to the ranch
and moved into a teepee down by the lake. The time spent living in the
desolate wild landscape of Easter Island seems to have been an agreeable
one and to have made a deep impression on the already reclusive RP.Inside
the teepee are kept but a few treasured possessions - a small drawing,
a painted buffalo robe and a photograph of Mr. Gus, the RPs favorite horse.
It's a simple life. A small folding fishing chair rests in front of the
teepee door where every night just before dinner cocktails are served while
the sun sets over the mountains and water. The RP rises early each morning
to circumnavigate the lake either on foot or by canoe, often in the company
of the Hatch Watcher where they can be observed conferring, undoubtedly
about recent entomological developments on the various ranch waters.
Also returning from Easter Island along with a trunk full of sketches of
Ahu heads, comes Jesper who is now employed as a runner, delivering messages
from the various ranch reporters for the RP's perusal. It's an exhausing
job as you can imagine.One never quite knows where the RP might pop up
next, but so far Jesper seems to be bearing up pretty well - all things
considered.. We think he's living somewhere in the garden as already he
misses his wild island home, Rapa Nui. Come winter though, we've prepared
a room for him in The Bunk House where we hope he will be more comfortable.
We've covered the walls with Plains Indian artifacts and sweet grass braids
to make his surroundings seem more familiar.
As this reporter rode out last week on the usual Tuesday route, I was astonished
to witness a most remarkable event. A rather large rainbow trout (of the
15lb variety) was resting his chin on the lip of a stone protruding out
of the water. Unobserved, I continued to watch as the trout quite brazenly
whistled over to the Australian bartender and ordered a cocktail onion.
Astounded, I watched as our Aussie friend reached under the counter to
pick up a sling shot into which he skillfully fitted the onion - then carefully
taking aim - delivered the tasty projectile dead center into the mouth
of the waiting trout. (This goes a long way towards explaining why our
bartender seems to have such great success with his "fly" selections)
If in fact these events had not been observed by me personally - I too
would believe the story to be a complete fabrication - a Tall Tale of the
most ridiculous proportions.
Yours truly, V.S.O.P.
Hickock Ranch Reporter 
