Out at 8:30 with our friends to the Sunburst Trout Company in Canton. "Processing fish by the grace of God," read the sign in front of the small building. Inside, workers fileted trout that had been deftly decapitated by a machine that produced a little stream of bloody water.

After a tour of the raceways -- Sally Easley giving us handfuls of feed to throw in the water to create a frenzy -- we returned to the building for a taste of hot smoked trout and cold smoked trout (both delicious). We bought six filets for dinner, along with trout sausage, trout dip, and both varieties of smoked trout.

After lunch we headed to a ranch of Scottish Highland cattle to pick up some grass-fed beef that Lyn had ordered. The rancher refused payment, saying that he prefers people taste it first, and then if they like it, they can pay for the next batch.

Hania asked if we could see his cattle, and we drove up a dirt lane behind his pick-up to a little pasture where three woolly females grazed with a calf. The view, down the hill and across a valley to ribbons of mountain, was spectacular.


We drove a little higher to the rancher's house, with another spectacular view and a bull named Maximillian in the front yard. He called to Max and he slowly came up to feed (the long porch was high enough he couldn't climb onto it).

(Photo taken by Donnette Yeaton)

"When I come back," the rancher said, "I want to be either a herd bull or a house cat. They both got it made."