Coast Range Publishing

11/11/2025

Introduction to Raptor Ravine

22/05/2024

"I look cooler than you in glasses." "Well I look smarter!" "You all look like idiots in those things!" So said glassless Amy who was the one who ended up having to wear them for real. [You know you are old when: Left to right - younger sister Amy - deceased, younger cousin Gail - deceased this week, me - not deceased, younger cousin Burke - deceased.]

27/10/2023

I do not drink often. But when I do, I drink the whole bottle. And then I eat the bottle to destroy the evidence.

10/12/2021

Figuring out new ways to put age in perspective at our ages is increasing difficult. My son helped me out with a new one this summer. We were out on the beach on the Oregon Coast after midnight in an area with few lights. He pointed up and said "there goes a satellite". I looked up and spotted a small, star-like object speeding across the sky. A few minutes later, we spotted another one, then another one. Six altogether in about an hour. "I've never seen those before," I said. He looked at me a little confused. "I would think it would have been easy for you to see them growing up on a farm with no light pollution,". I just smiled. "There were no satellites in orbit to see when I was on the farm,". He stared at me a moment, then it hit him. "You're older than satellites!". So there you have it. From now on when someone asks how old I am, I will just say "I'm older than satellites!"😀

19/02/2021

Raptor Ravine
ISBN 1441415963
Copyright © 2008 by James L. Butler

Prologue-Terror in the Forest
“Your bounty hunters are coming,” White Bear said, pointing toward two stocky men walking lazily toward them.
Alfred Weyland looked up from his paper dated September 2, 1939.
“About time. I can’t afford to lose any more animals.”
“We should leave this ravine. The spirits will not rest until we do,” White Bear said.
“We’ve been friends for a long time. I respect your beliefs, but they’re not mine,” Alfred said, as he gazed at the two approaching men.
Large packs were strapped on their backs and rifles were cradled in their arms. One had scraggly brown hair, dripping with sweat, and the other sported a curly black crop. Two large German Shepherds followed behind them with their heads down, panting.
“Bailey and Williams?” Alfred said.
“Yeah. Hear you got a poaching problem,” Williams said, as he gazed across the field full of sheep and goats.
“I’m not sure what I’ve got. Animals just keep disappearing overnight. There’s blood and a few scraps left, but nothing else,” Alfred said.
“What’re you keeping them out here in the middle of nowhere for?” Bailey said.
“People kept stealing them off my farm in Banks,” Alfred said.
“People are hungry,” Williams said.
“I thought this would be far enough away they wouldn’t bother me,” Alfred said.
“It’s far away, alright. That I***n driver we hired wouldn’t even bring us in from the road,” Williams said.
“My people believe this ravine is protected by the spirit of the Thunderbird,” White Bear said.
“Why don’t you track down these rustlers, chief?” Williams said.
“Anyone who enters will not survive. The ravine is sacred ground,” White Bear said.
“Guess we’ll just have to show you how it’s done, eh, chief,” Williams said.
“I am not a chief,” White Bear said.
“Where’d the last animal disappear?” Bailey said.
“Far side of the pasture last night,” White Bear said pointing.
The two men scanned the area White Bear indicated. They were in a small field surrounded by the thick forest of the Oregon Coast Mountain Range. The dogs ran ahead to a water trough outside a tent, lapping up some of the precious liquid in the bottom.
“Let’s get this over with,” Williams said, then whistled at the dogs. They left the trough, falling in step behind the two men.
“We will not see them again,” White Bear said.
“Those are hungry, out of work lumber jacks. I wouldn’t give any man or spirit a chance against them, even without the dogs and guns,” Alfred said.
“We will see,” White Bear said.
“Maybe I should’ve have warned them about the cougar you saw though.”
“If they are as good as you say, it won’t make any difference.”
Bailey and Williams stopped at the edge of the clearing to investigate a pool of dried blood dotted with bits of fur from a recent kill. They circled the area looking for clues to which direction the culprit had gone. There were some large claw marks in the hard ground, but no trace of a trail or evidence of a carcass.
“What’s this?” Bailey said, as he picked up a black feather over two feet long with greenish stripes spaced along it.
“Thunderbird,” a young boy said.
The two men looked behind them, spotting two little boys hiding behind a small bush.
“Who are you?” Williams asked.
“George,” one boy said.
“Twofeathers,” the other boy said.
“What’re you doing out here?” Bailey said.
“Waiting for the Thunderbird to come back,” George said.
“You’ve seen it?” Williams said.
“Just in the shadows.”
“How big?” Bailey said.
“Big enough to eat me.”
“There ain’t nothing in this forest with feathers big enough to eat you,” Bailey said as Williams chuckled.
“Big enough to eat you too,” Twofeathers said as the boys took off running toward the tent.
“Thunderbird. Humph. Just some vulture picking on scraps,” Bailey said, flicking the feather out of his hands.
“Now what?” Williams said.
Bailey surveyed the high, dirt walls on each side of the ravine, with the mountain peak above it.
“The only way out is the way we came in. Just head up the ravine until the dogs flush ‘em out,” Bailey said.
“Sounds good,” Williams said.
The two men and the dogs weaved through the thick, stagnant forest for hours. Their shirts were soaked with sweat from the summer heat. There was no sign of any stolen animals or any human presence at all. They finally had to stop for a rest, late in the afternoon.
“Haven’t seen Douglas Firs like these in years,” Bailey said as he dropped his backpack to the ground.
“Yeah. Can’t imagine why old man Weyland is letting his brother sit on a fortune in lumber,” Williams said as he slipped his backpack off, dropping it next to Bailey’s, while they rested up.
One of the dogs raised his nose high in the air, sniffed, and barked. The second dog joined in to see what was going on, barking as well. The two men picked up their guns, holding them at ready position. The dogs went silent, creeping toward a thicket with the two men stalking right behind them. A vicious snarl erupted from the thicket, followed by a huge cougar bursting out straight toward them.
“Look out!” Bailey said, jumping to one side as the big cat raced right between them, disappearing in the forest.
The dogs took off after it, barking frantically.
“Get the dogs back here!” Bailey said.
“Think we found our poachers?” Williams said as they ran after them.
“No, I just don’t want the dogs getting hurt!”
An ear-splitting screech ahead froze them in their tracks. The forest was deathly still with only the whining of the dogs breaking the silence. They moved forward slowly, spotting the dogs poking around at something just outside a cave in the ravine wall.
“It’s the cougar. They killed it!” Williams said.
“Max, Stony, get over here,” Bailey said.
The dogs retreated behind the two men where they paced back and forth anxiously.
“This isn’t right. Be careful. Somethin’ else is out here. Maybe in that cave?” Williams said.
“Spread out a little,” Bailey said as they approached the cave slowly.
“Awg! What’s that stench?” Williams said as a slight breeze blew in his face.
“Look at that cougar! No dog did that. It’s sliced open like it was butchered,” Bailey said.
“Whatever it is must be in that cave,” Williams said as they got closer.
“Wait a second,” Bailey said.
He bent over to pick up a feather just like the one he had spotted back in the clearing.
“Vulture?” Williams said.
“With green stripes?” Bailey said as he dropped the feather.
“What’re we dealing with?” Williams said.
“I don’t know, but it can’t stop lead. We rush the cave on three. You from the right, me from the left,” Bailey said. “One, two, three, go!”
The two men ran to the sides of the cave, swinging their gun barrels inside, ready to blast away.
“What in God’s name!” they both said as they slapped their hands across their face to block out the smell.
Their eyes bulged at the sight of a five foot high pile of partly eaten, rotting carcasses. The hum of thousands of flies filled the cave as they circled the rotting animal remains, seething with maggots.
“What did that?” Bailey said as he backed away.
“I don’t know. And I’m not sticking around to find out!” Williams said.
“Get the dogs and get out of here,” Bailey said.
“Where are they?”
An ear splitting screech ripped through the forest a few yards away, followed by the painful howl of an injured animal.
“Max! Max, come here!” Bailey called.
“I don’t like this,” Williams said gripping his rifle.
“It came from that direction,” Bailey said as he stepped toward a thick clump of brush.
Williams looked at the slaughtered cougar, then out into the forest as he clenched his hands around his rifle, flipping the safety on and off repeatedly.
“Forget the dogs!” he said.
“I’m not leaving them out here,” Bailey said, pushing ahead.
Williams followed him into the brush hesitantly until Bailey stopped in a small clearing.
“Oh no, what did that?” Bailey said.
One of the dogs was lying lifeless on top of a log, with its limbs hanging limp like a rag doll.
“Something that can kill us in a heartbeat,” Williams said.
The other dog yelped from deeper in the brush. Then all was silent.
“Yeah, only if it can stop a bullet. This way,” Bailey said.
“Forget it! Let’s get out of here,” Williams said.
“Nothin’ kills my dog!” Bailey said as he pushed ahead through the brush.
Williams followed a few steps until Bailey stopped at the edge of a stream. The other dog was lying limp in the water with the current pushing it against the branches of a fallen tree like it was an old rag.
“Impossible! That dog ran down a black bear without getting a scratch,” Bailey said.
“Those aren’t bear claws,” Williams said, pointing at large, deep, three toed tracks in the bank of the stream. “We’re in trouble. Big trouble!”
An ear splitting screech exploded so close behind them, they could feel the vibrations from the sound rippling through their bodies.
“Run!” Williams said.
They broke into a race through the forest, crashing through tree limbs, leaping over fallen trees, and tearing through briar bushes. Williams hit a low limb with his leg, tumbling in front of Bailey, sending both of them somersaulting through the brush with their rifles flying off in different directions.
“Find the guns! We’re helpless without them,” Bailey said.
The two men scrambled around in the brush, desperately seeking their weapons. Another screech ripped out from behind them, sending them crashing through the trees once more. This time they ran until their bodies completely collapsed in exhaustion, leaving them spread out beneath a large Fir tree, gasping for air.
“Gotta keep… moving,” Bailey said.
“Let it… kill me. It’ll be less… painful,” Williams said.
They lay motionless for several minutes as their hearts pounded, trying to get enough oxygen to their abused muscles to recover. Finally, they had enough strength to slowly sit up.
“Where are we?” Bailey said.
“Don’t know.”
“What’s chasing us?”
“Not a vulture,” Williams said.
“How do we get back to camp?” Bailey said.
“Walk until we find a spot where we can see the top of the ravine, then follow it down to the clearing,” Williams said.
“All our supplies are in our packs back at that cave.”
“You wanna go back for them?”
“Guess not. Rather be hungry than left in a cave to rot,” Bailey said.
The two men wandered through the forest for two days with no food and little water. They finally stumbled into the camp, ragged and delusional. Alfred’s crew could not make any sense of their babbling. They decided to just feed them, clean them up, and let them sleep.

Twofeathers and George stood in the main tent watching as Bailey slowly woke up. His clothes were torn and small cuts covered his arms.
“What’re you looking at?” Bailey said.
“Just wondering why you aren’t dead,” Twofeathers said.
“I told you to stay out of here,” Alfred said as he and White Bear entered.
The boys slipped out behind their fathers letting the tent flap flutter closed. Alfred and White Bear stood quietly as Williams slowly regained consciousness.
“Feeling better?” Alfred asked.
“I’m alive,” Bailey said.
“And thankful for that,” Williams said as he sat up.
“What happened out there?” Alfred said.
Bailey and Williams looked at each other, then at Alfred. Without speaking a word, they agreed that trying to explain why they had left everything behind because of a screech would sound cowardly. Bailey glanced at White Bear, spotting a large hunting knife hanging at his waist. He looked at Williams, who nodded in approval.
“I***ns,” Bailey said.
“What!” Alfred said.
“No people of mine would ever enter that ravine,” White Bear said.
“Well, maybe they weren’t your people. I***ns are the only ones I know that can cut a dog open like a sack of grain,” Williams said.
“The dogs are dead?” Alfred said.
“Yeah, and they butchered a cougar too,” Bailey said.
“We found your missing animals. They cut them up and piled them up in cave to rot,” Williams said.
“You angered the spirit beast. None of us are safe here now,” White Bear said.
“That’s why they did it. They don’t want you in their sacred territory,” Williams said.
“The spirits do not need our help to protect their territory,” White Bear said.
“No animal or spirit piles a bunch of carcasses in a cave to rot,” Bailey said.
Alfred studied the two exhausted, worn men for a moment before turning his attention to White Bear. He motioned to his friend to follow him as he left the tent.
“What do you think?” Alfred said.
“Something worse than death faced them. They cannot explain it, or are too afraid to explain it,” White Bear said.
“So, they’d rather stir up a fight with Indians than come clean,” Alfred said.
“They are desperate. They will protect themselves,” White Bear said.
George stepped in front of Alfred as he held up a large black feather with greenish stripes.
“Look what I found.”
White Bear stared at it like he was seeing an ancient spirit ghost as he slowly pulled it from the young boy’s fingers.
“What is it?” Alfred asked.
“We must leave this place, now.”
Alfred stared at White Bear for a few moments, adjusting his hat.
“Yeah, maybe coming out here was just a bad idea. It’s time to move everything back to my farm. We need to close this place off so no one comes looking for legends,” Alfred said.
“What about those two?” White Bear said.
“Pay them and tell them not to talk because we will never admit hiring them or seeing them anywhere near this ravine,” Alfred said.
“It is done. We will help you move the animals out today,” White Bear said.
“Today? That’s not necessary,” Alfred said
“I think he’s right,” Twofeathers said from behind them.
“Afraid?” Alfred said.
“The Thunderbirds never leave anything behind,” George said.
“You would make a good Clatskanie chief,” White Bear said.
“You’re Clatskanie? I didn’t think there were any left,” Alfred said.
“Only a handful. Twofeathers is the last child of two Clatskanie parents. We cannot be saved. But saving this ravine will bring you honor forever from our spirits,” White Bear said.
“Then it will be done. Let’s get out of here and leave this ravine to whatever haunts it,” Alfred said as he headed out to round up his crew.

31/01/2019

Coast Range Publishing partnered with Cummins Inc. to donate 200 copies of "The Cow-Pie Chronicles" to an elementary school of underprivileged children this week along with many other items in a Community Involvement Team Book Bag Project.

Follow James L. Butler and explore their bibliography from Amazon.com's James L. Butler Author Page.

24/05/2018

Illustrator for The Cow-Pie Chronicles sold three cartoons to the New Yorker, will be a special guest at San Diego Comic Con, and is nominated for a Reuben Award! https://www.facebook.com/lonnie.millsap

07/05/2018

Are there descendants of dinosaurs lurking in the deep, dark mountain forests of Oregon? ~maybe~ Check it out for free in the Kindle version 5/8 - 5/12
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“Another dead cat. Raptors sure hate cats.”… “Getting even for all the birds in the world.”Raptor Ravine is an adventure novel with the heart of E.T. and the tension of Jurassic Park set in the Oregon Coast Mountains. A boy fleeing a cougar attack falls into an ...

27/01/2018

I drove out to our old family farm a couple of weeks ago during one of my infrequent return trips to Michigan. I make it a point to go there and see the huge old barn (picture here from a 2012 visit.) I spent many hours working and playing in as a child. It has always brought back fond memories and made me wonder how I would feel to still be working on, perhaps owning a farm today. Not this time. This time it brought sadness as half of the barn had collapsed into a rubble. I will never go back to see it again.

18/11/2017

Nice letter from Foundation for Youth in Columbus, Indiana. No, not Ohio. Indiana!