Read a poem about the Owyhee Canyonlands by Statesman reporter Jeanne Huff

November 22, 2006 

Shear-walled canyon cracks
Border roughly-hewn earthen benches, tables — Idaho plateaus.
Land hot, thirsty, rugged, where folks with corderoy hands
Reach out, like mothers, like fathers
To keep it all safe.

It’s big here,
Miles big, thousands of ‘em.
Cowboy names — and songs — drift through these canyonlands
Like howl of wolf, yip of coyote, cry of eagle, sing through
Windstorm, drive deep into hearts.

Roaring whitewater, dust-sifted plains;
Etched with green valleys, furrowed by lazy creeks.
Squint your eyes, you can see buffalo nibbling on sagebrush.
Shoshone, Paiute once lived here too.
Land of gold mines, goldrush, now golden opportunity.

— Jeanne Huff

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