Third day wean
when hungry heifers
eat out of my hands
at the feed bunk—
leafy alfalfa flakes
that fall apart, the rich
green of last year’s
high-dollar hay—
rather than distress
over mothers no longer
posted at the gate
that most have left
lamenting another loss
of nine-month intimacy
and their mother-daughter
companionship.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, Ranch Journal
Tagged 2023 heifers, bovine intimacies, innocence, photography, poetry, stress, weaning
I think we’ve finally caught up and close to being on time with our ranch work since the last Atmospheric River at the end of March. We got across the creek towards the end of April when flow was down to 90 cfs to see our cows while trying to get our fences up to hold them when we gathered and weaned. Since the ARs, Dry Creek is spider-webbed with streams of sand in new high-water channels requiring some leveling with the skid steer to replace fencing and to approach the creek. Meanwhile on this side of the road and creek, we’ve had a crew building fence to better accommodate the acreage changes since Robbin and I have scaled down our activities.
But on time, our first bunch of calves will be weaned and ready for Visalia Livestock Market’s “Off the Grass Sale” on Wednesday, May 17th. They are 7-weight Vintage-sired steers. The market has been strong, though slightly weaker lately. With our cow numbers down due to acreage changes and past years of drought, we will need whatever extra money the market will offer us.
After seven days a week for nearly two months, it’s a relief to feel caught up.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged Drought, Dry Creek, Off the Grass Sale, photography, rain, Vintage steers, Visalia Livestock Market, weaning, weather
The grass has turned while we’ve been busy repairing our fences in order to sort and ship our calves to town. Because the brush catchers upstream failed to hold all the debris, our pipe fence across the high water channels when the creek was flowing 8,000 cfs (cubic feet/second) collected what leaked by until it was overwhelmed.
It’s been a slow process, but neighbors and friends brought their hydraulic muscle to stand it upright Sunday morning in a couple of hours. We had to cut it in sections and finished welding them together yesterday.
Thanks to all concerned.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal, Video
Tagged Atmospheric Rivers, Dry Creek, hydraulic muscle, neighbors, photography, pipe fence, rain, weather
We haven’t been able to cross Dry Creek for three months due to the series of Atmospheric Rivers that began last December. Subsequently, Robbin and I haven’t seen the cattle for three months.
Fortunately, we had a dozer nearby to spread the cobble and sand bar evenly across the channel.
Salt hungry, they’ve been doing fine without us. We were quite pleased with both cows and calves.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal, Video
Tagged Calves, cattle, cows, crossing, Dry Creek, photography, rain, weather
Ever so gentle, these waves of wild oats—
easy undulations into the wide swath
of bright-yellow White Mustard
in the disturbed ground
where we fed bulls
drought after drought.
If ever I could reinvent myself
as easily with storm after storm,
shake the slow walk and run
with breath aplenty, mind sharp.
Hazy days of snapshots flashing
uninvited or young among old men
now gone in the photograph
of the branding crew Rochelle took
when Craig was still alive
hanging on the bathroom wall
with south slopes of pure gold,
wet spring after the Drought of 1977.
Ever so gentle, these waves of memory,
stories only searching names,
ever so gentle, they come to me.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged age, branding crew, Drought, Drought of '77, flashbacks, Holland Corrals, memories, photographs, photography, poetry, rain
No spring chicken, she’s let herself go
wild after a decade of waterless summers
as if saving up the emptiness to fill at once—
every wrinkle in these hills oozing rivulets
into foaming cappuccino creeks cresting
towards runaway rivers spilling, flooding
valley towns and farm ground with lakes
and bogs—all the years of prayers answered
with much more passion than we wanted.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Drought, flood, Mother Nature, photography, poetry, PRAYERS, rain, weather
Too many years courting goddesses,
genuflecting at the foot of ridgetops:
oak trees sharp and close enough to touch
to beg relief—to even entertain
such shameful blasphemy, such
feeble will to forever lose their ear.
Every river canyon churns to fill
and spill its reservoirs, white-capped
Sierras stacked with two-year’s snowpack
awaiting summer’s melt to flood the flats
and yet I can’t concede what is not me:
always ready, waiting for a good-hard rain.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged dams, flood, photography, poetry, prayer, rain, rain goddess, rivers, snow, weather
We have left our mark on this ground:
the house, the pipe, the horses,
cattle, shop and barn—and the avenues
between them—that were not here
forty years ago where the deer lay down
beside the road. Our tracks everywhere
we worked details into grazing hillsides
and raising calves you’ll never see
before they are erased by time’s storms
and someone else’s appetites and dreams.
Our short moment among the mortar holes
and pictographs that will outlive our presence.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry
Tagged culture, Home, mortar holes, photography, pictographs, poetry, time, tracks, Wuknaw
Road closures everywhere, San Joaquin Valley flooded, haven’t left Dry Creek Rd. for a week. Glad we’re on higher ground. 3.5″ more forecast Sunday thru Friday next week.
I am reminded of Christmas Eve, 1955. Much to my father’s chagrin and contrary to his good judgement, we celebrated with my mother’s parents, Dorothy and Floyd Cutler in Green Acres, Visalia. Mill Creek ran beside the home and we all took turns watching it rise on the concrete steps leading up from their garage. When it was time to leave, my Dad carried us three kids and Christmas presents through 3 feet of water to the car, then got the ’53 Buick stuck. My grandfather hooked on to it with his Studebaker pickup and we drove back to Exeter through the swamps (Lovers Lane to Anderson Road) on the two-lane highway in two plus feet of water (Kaweah River before the Terminus Dam), wincing every time we met another vehicle’s wake in the headlights.
Posted in Ranch Journal
Tagged 5 feet high and Rising, Dry Creek, flood, Johnny Cash, Kaweah River, rain, road closures, Terminus Dam, weather
The creek-flood bears no malice
as it carves its way to a flatland war
unearthing trees and buried cobbles
of past centuries—laying waste
to man’s old and new improvements.
It cares no more than the clouds and rain
that feed its energy, its violence
and its thunderous roar. Nor does it
bestow charity to soothe our minds
and flesh—it has no agenda, no noble
purpose nor dishonorable motives.
It just is what it always has been.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Dry Creek, flood, photography, poetry, rain, water, weather
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