Episodios

  • Bob Bragg

    Bob Bragg
    Oct 1 2025

    This week, I interviewed Bob Bragg, of Cortez, Colorado. Bob grew up in the Midwest, went into the Army, went to college, rodeo’d, riding saddle broncs and backback. Ultimately, he settled in southwestern Colorado where he’s been teaching in ag-related fields for decades. The man is 80 and as spry as a 40-year old.

    Here, he shares an encounter from back a few decades ago that I think helped confirm for him a lifelong respect and appreciation for animal behavior and intelligence. Bob describes a day moving cows up Yellow Jacket Canyon. Now that canyon, like a lot of canyons in this high desert area, has steep, steep sides. To scramble up them can mean holding onto a branch of scrub oak for dear life. Following game trails is often your best bet, but even then it can be challenging.

    The cows that Bob and students were moving were indeed domestic, but they encountered feral cows. Feral cows are cows turned loose and, since no one has handled them in perhaps years, they are on their own, surviving in big country, adapting to their circumstances.

    I can just imagine those wild cows saying ‘hey, how ya doing’ and then hasta la vista, nice seeing you, to their fellow bovines.

    Bob has a decades-long show called Farm News and Views that plays weekly on KSJD here in Cortez.

    I really enjoyed hearing how that scene unfolded and appreciated Ben’s take-away.

    Awe, Nice! welcomes interviewees. If you have a moment you experienced while working outside and would like to share it, contact us here.

    If you’d like to donate, find a link here and thank you.

    Keep your eyes, ears, and mind open. Until next time.
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    6 m
  • Mini-Awe-Polis 4

    Mini-Awe-Polis 4
    Oct 1 2025
    Welcome to Awe, Nice! where we highlight moments of wonder while working outdoors. We’re on the radio and we’re also on podcast platforms. My name is Maddy Butcher. I live in southwestern Colorado and I’ve been a journalist for 40 years. Thus far, we’ve focused entirely on interviews with people working on the land, but soon we’ll have segments from folks who work on the water. Fresh water, salt water. I grew up on the coast of Maine and today I wanted to share another mini-moment of awe. Yes, it’s time for Mini-Awe-Polis. Mini Awe Polis is a bundle of small wonders collected in my noggin. Like hay in my jacket pockets. A few segments ago, I talked about experiences around tide. This week, I wanted to share another ocean-related thought. Fog. Fog fosters uncertainty. It’s funny, even the etymology of fog is foggy. Danish, Old Norse, Old English, Dutch, and German languages all have somewhat similar words which, back in the 16th century meant things like spray, or damp, moist, or drifting snow storm. Fog appears when water vapor, that’s water in gas form, condenses. Fog is tiny water droplets hanging in the air. Fog often happens when there is a difference between the water temperature and the air temperature - like a cold morning on warmer water, or vice versa. Fog hardly ever happens if there’s wind. So, if you’re sailing, for instance, and it’s foggy, forget about it. Some describe fog as being in the dark and that’s true. But, you know, when you’re walking in the dark you generally feel the ground beneath you. It’s a surface you can rely on. But if you’re on a boat and in the fog, you might be traveling through water with depths of 200 feet, 20 feet, or two feet. You might be heading towards the shore or away from it. Hard to say. Fog can completely derail your plans for getting out on the water. Even if you know the area well, even if you have a depth finder, fog will make things difficult, if not impossible. Unless you’re clamming. It’s good to be a clammer when there’s fog, you just need the tide to come at a decent time of day. There are buoys and lighthouses and other marine markers to help if you can see. If you can’t see, there are bells as well as fog horns which mostly sound beautiful, low and regular, like a cow calling for her calf but without any urgency. Horns and bells might drive some people nuts. Certainly fog has that tendency. You can’t rely on fog lifting at any time. It just will when it does. I remember painting houses on Harpswell Neck when I was a teenager. We just couldn’t paint if it was foggy (which it often was). You might as well be painting in the rain. When I was working construction on the coast (but not painting) the fog would be so thick you’d need a towel to regularly wipe the moisture off your face. I worked at Cook’s Lobster House out on Bailey Island in my 40's. It was, of course, right on the water. I should say almost everything on Bailey Island is right on the water. It’s an island which connects to Orr’s Island (which connects to Great Island and the mainland) by a cribstone bridge. A cribstone bridge is built from massive blocks of granite and water flows through them. Nothing but gravity holds it together. Of course, it’s paved on top but that doesn’t really count. It’s thought to be the only one of its kind in the world. Anyway, lots and lots of tourists would come to Cook’s to sit in the booths or outside at tables, eat lobster, and look out the three sides of massive picture windows where they could see lobster boats, fishing boats, sail boats, motor boats coming and going. Except when it was foggy. Then you couldn’t see past the parking lot. When will this fog go away? Your guess is as good as mine. Can I get you another rum and Coke? The poet Colin Sargent wrote: One year the fog stayed all summer As if it were a lodger Picking his teeth after dinner, Refusing to retire To his room upstairs Awe, Nice! welcomes interviewees. If you have a moment you experienced while working outside and would like to share it, contact us here. You can find a donate button here. Keep your eyes, ears, and mind open. Until next time.
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    5 m
  • Forrest Van Tuyl

    Forrest Van Tuyl
    Aug 26 2025

    Welcome to Awe Nice, where we highlight moments of wonder while working outdoors.

    This week, I interviewed Forrest Van Tuyl. Sound familiar? Forrest wrote Rockjack and he sent the instrumental version to me for the intro and outro. In a forthcoming segment, he’s going to talk about that song and the ranch structure that inspired it.

    For this segment, he shared a moment when he was working in way eastern Oregon, not far from the Idaho border. Sounds like amazing country and here he is to tell us about a long, keen observation.

    Forrest is married to Margo Cilker, who is a musician and also someone who sings about time outside. They have performed all around the country, in Europe, Scandanavia, and at the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko, Nevada. I hope you check ‘em out.

    Forrest

    Margo

    AweNice welcomes interviewees. If you have a moment you experienced while working outside and would like to share it, contact us here.

    My name is Maddy Butcher, I developed Awe Nice to highlight moments of wonder outdoors.

    Keep your eyes, ears, and mind open. Until next time.
    Más Menos
    7 m
  • Mini-Awe-Polis 3

    Mini-Awe-Polis 3
    Aug 26 2025
    My name is Maddy Butcher. I live in southwestern Colorado and I’ve worked as a journalist for several decades. I like to spend time outside and, thankfully, I have spent many years working outside, not just playing outside. I think it’s important to distinguish between the two. In my experience, people’s perspectives, experiences, and philosophies towards the outdoors is different depending on if they are building a life where they’re working, if they become an important part of their outdoor world, or if they’re just passing through. So far, we’ve focused entirely on interviews with people working on the land, but that’s not by decree. As I’ve mentioned, I grew up in Maine and I’m looking ahead to interviews with people who work on the water. Occasionally with this project, I share a few mini-moments of awe. My nickname for these segments – cringeworthy, I’m sure – is Mini-Awe-Polis. Mini Awe Polis is a bundle of small wonders that have collected in my noggin. Kind of like the hay in my jacket pockets. This week, I wanted to share some water-related thoughts, maybe to kind of to prep you all for those interviews with fishermen and lobstermen. Okay, maybe it’s just an excuse to share them. The biggest factor in being on the water where I grew up on Middle Bay, anyway, was tide. I’m guessing you know what tide is. But if you don’t, tides are the rhythmic movements of the world’s water, based on the pull of the moon. In Harpswell, the difference between high and low tide is nearly 10 feet. In Miami, closer to the equator, it’s less than three. Heading up the Maine coast to New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, in the Bay of Fundy, the difference between high and low tide is 53 feet. Billions of gallons of water flowing in and out, twice a day, every day. Not exactly, twice a day. The movement of the tide is more like once every 12 and half hours. So high tide would be at three in the afternoon on Monday and more like six o’clock by Friday. Tide, at least for us on the mud flats of Middle Bay, meant the difference between heading out to swim or boat or go clamming or fishing or not. It meant that a moored boat would likely be aground or nearly so at low tide, but floating freely at high tide. It meant the difference between swimming in water the height of a kiddie pool or the deep end. Living on the mud flats isn’t all bad though because at low tide on sunny days, the mud soaks up the sun and heats up the incoming water. By August, that means it’s actually swimmable. Maybe water temps in the 60s. In certain areas and at certain times, you do not want to mess with the tide. The flow in tight spaces of the shore creates current that you can’t swim against and often can’t boat against. Maine’s coast is full of ins and outs and wild meanderings. A straight line from the New Hampshire border to the Canadian border is just 228 miles as the crow flies. But the in and outs and peninsulas and islands make it nearly 3,500 miles. 3,500 miles! If you’re on the water, you really need to know where you are, where the tide might take you, or how it might make things more challenging. And oh boy if you want to start combining tide with fog. In the coldest of winters, the ice would freeze clear across Middle Bay, a mile wide in spots. But inevitably, tide would break up the ice in chunks, sometimes as big as a yard or as small as a cooler. It was a thing to go iceberg hopping, a really stupid thing that we did as kids. A boy I knew was iceberg hopping. The tide was going out and took him way down the bay. Like miles away from home. The Coast Guard had to fetch him. I want to say something more about mud flats, since they get so disparaged. I mean, they are not picturesque, like rocky coastlines or sandy beaches. If you’re barefoot or are digging into the mud, that mud will stay with you. It’s so finely grained that it can be hard to wash off. Mud flats have a particularly wonderful but certainly distinctive smell. Earthy, salty, of the seaweed and eel grass and clams and hermit crabs. As a girl, I was riding a bus to summer camp up the coast. There was a girl from New York City who said, ‘pew, what’s that smell? It smells like a sewer! Welcome to the Maine coast, honey. AweNice welcomes interviewees. If you have a moment you experienced while working outside and would like to share it, contact us here. at awenice.com. Oh, and AweNice also welcomes your support. You can find a donate button here. Music is by my friend, Forrest Van Tuyl,. Find more of his terrific music from a link here. Keep your eyes, ears, and mind open. Until next time.
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    6 m
  • Rae Nickerson

    Rae Nickerson
    Aug 18 2025

    This week, I interviewed Rae Nickerson. Rae lives is persuing a PhD at Utah State University in Logan, Utah, but travels widely in the west. She studies large carnivores and specifically works on conflict reduction between wolves, grizzlies, and livestock.

    Rae has had several encounters with bears, some scary, some hilarious, like when a bear was trying to get apples out of the back of her truck while she was trying to sleep in the cab. But she picked another kind of encounter to share with us.

    Aside from all her work in the field and with producers, she also finds time to help the Western Landowners Alliance with conflict reduction outreach.

    Apologies in advance for the audio quality. Sometimes when recording people for these segments, we don’t get the most stellar reception. Doing the best we can.

    AweNice welcomes interviewees. If you have a moment you experienced while working outside and would like to share it, contact us here.

    Our music is by my friend, Forrest Van Tuyl, who knows a bit about wonders at work. Find more of his terrific music here.

    My name is Maddy Butcher, I’m a journalist and day worker here in the Four Corners area. I developed Awe Nice in hopes of brightening your day. If you’d like to donate, head here and thank you.

    Keep your eyes, ears, and mind open. Until next time.
    Más Menos
    7 m
  • Beau Gaughran

    Beau Gaughran
    Jul 31 2025

    Welcome to Awe Nice, that’s a-w-e-n-i-c-e, where we highlight moments of wonder while working outdoors.

    This week, I interviewed Beau Gaughran of Berwick, Maine. Beau directed A Brutal, Beautiful Life, a short documentary about ranching for which I served as writer and producer. It’s done well at film festivals and is now online.

    Almost all of Beau’s work is outside, often in the backcountry. I’ve learned from him that you need athleticism as well as creative talent to excel at this kind of filmmaking.

    The moment that Beau chose to share doesn’t unfold outdoors, but it sure is worth hearing.

    One of the reasons I love working with Beau is because of how he sees, how he takes in his surroundings. Such a talent.

    Hearing, of course, is huge. Because of his decades-long enthusiasm for water sports and because of particularly angular ear canals, Beau’s had lots of ear infections and compromised hearing. He’s right not to take it for granted, eh? Where would Awe, Nice! Be without it?

    Awe, Nice! welcomes interviewees. If you have a moment you experienced while working outside and would like to share it, contact us at awenice.com.

    Our music is by my friend, Forrest Van Tuyl. You can find a link to his music and a donate button on our about page.

    Keep your eyes, ears, and mind open. Until next time.
    Más Menos
    8 m
  • Kim Kerns

    Kim Kerns
    Jul 29 2025

    This week, I interviewed Kim Kerns. Kim is a fourth generation rancher in eastern Oregon. The country is remote. No Man’s Land. Services are distant, which is why her family and their neighbors banded together to organize a rural fire fighting entity, which you’ll hear about.

    I met Kim several months ago and we talked about dogs, mostly. Kim and her family have about a thousand sheep and hundreds of cows. They have eight guardian dogs, several stock dogs – those are mostly kelpies and border collies, and she also has Burt, an 18-pound Jagd terrier, who keeps down the pack rat population and takes on all comers, Kim told me.

    Predators are a constant source of concern. Mountain lions, wolves, coyotes. She relies on her incredible guardian dogs to keep her animals alive, especially during calving and lambing, in the spring, but really year-round.

    It’s a big operation and she tackles it with her parents, her husband and two employees.

    Kim said she met a big family from Seattle up on Big Lookout Mountain during the 2017 eclipse. They were planning to just watch the eclipse in a parking lot or something, but they ran into some NASA guys who said, “Heck, no. You’ve come all this way. You’re going to get up to this mountain!” And they did. Afterwards, that family tracked down Kim’s dad online and got a message to him that visiting with Kim and her friend, Maddie Moore, was a highlight of their trip.

    Awe, Nice! welcomes interviewees. If you have a moment you experienced while working outside and would like to share it, contact us here.

    Our music is by my friend, Forrest Van Tuyl. Find a link to his terrific music here. If you’d like to donate, find the link on our About page and thank you.

    My name is Maddy Butcher, I developed Awe, Nice! to highlight moments of wonder outdoors.

    Keep your eyes, ears, and mind open. Until next time.
    Más Menos
    8 m
  • Sisto Hernandez

    Sisto Hernandez
    Jul 24 2025

    This week, I interviewed Sisto Hernandez. Sisto lives in Arizona and I met him at a training for range riders. Range riding is a successful strategy for deterring wolves from predating on cattle and Sisto was teaching, sharing his insights from work with the reintroduced Mexican wolves.

    A few notes on some things Sisto mentions:

    - Traps aren’t metal contraptions, they’re fenced off areas of between five to twenty acres, built for holding cattle.

    - Tapaderos are leather fittings, sometimes rawhide, over stirrups that keep anything from getting wedged in your stirrup. That's a scenario which can be pretty dangerous for you and your horse.

    - The Mogollon Rim forms the southwestern edge of the Colorado Plateau and features big sandstone and limestone cliffs. As you might imagine, it is a significant natural boundary for flora and fauna.

    - The Rodeo-Chediski Fire burned nearly a half million acres in 2002. At the time, it was the biggest fire in Arizona history.

    That country that I've seen on or abutting the Grasshopper Livestock Association acreage (which itself covers nearly 200 square miles) is everything he describes. Beautiful and sometimes treacherous. Hopefully you can check it out. At least by taking a drive down Highway 77, which runs through reservations, National Forest, and Salt River Canyon.

    I did a little research and learned that aside from his work on the land, Sisto was an accomplished saddle bronc rider, competing for years at the national level. Brain and brawn.

    AweNice welcomes interviewees. If you have a moment you experienced while working outside and would like to share it, contact us here.

    Our music is by my friend, Forrest Van Tuyl.

    If you’d like to donate, find the link here and thank you.

    Keep your eyes, ears, and mind open. Until next time.
    Más Menos
    7 m