Half full, half empty—
but differing perspectives
to prove fences work.
Posted in Haiku 2015, Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged Drought, fences, grass, grazing, weekly-photo-challenge
When we quit questioning,
when darkness falls
upon the wilderness of wonder,
are we afraid
of our imagination,
of other possibilities
among the night songs?
How full and fresh the child
that asks and asks, that sees
the disconnected weave
a vibrant tapestry!
How stale is he
that wears the answers
chiseled in a cave
to recite by braille.
None of the girls seemed opposed to having a little party yesterday now that our cattle work was done. Allie Fry, who is heading off to Fresno State next week, wanted to learn to rope and Terri Blanke, who coaches the youngsters before the Three Rivers Lions Club Team Roping, is helping her with the basics that evolved into a competition that included Robbin and I. An athletic quick study, Allie surprised us all.
We smoked pork ribs all afternoon, put eggplant and peppers on the barbecue, then put wild blackberries that Allie and I picked after feeding and irrigating in the morning on vanilla ice cream for dessert.
Thank you girls, we got the work done.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Before and after the weather report
we get news from far away places:
tragedies and terrible things
that want to linger in our minds
asking questions—but we don’t like
the answers that must be true
about the nature of humans opposed
to peace, that are driven to leave
horrible impressions behind.
We watch the cows come into water
in a well-spaced line, taking turns
at the trough, then count quail babies
herded on the lawn to escape the cat.
Within a wrinkle among so many others
on the durable hide of this planet,
we inhabit a canyon shaped
by the allocation of water
apart from the world outside.
Behind our back, ground squirrels
crawling on their bellies raid
the peach tree, an Elberta with huge
fruit starting to color that bob
and bounce across the pasture,
bigger than the heads that run
with them gripped in yellow teeth.
Come evening, a flutter of black
feathers, our resident pair of crows
dining at the fence line on scattered
cadavers, fuzzy lumps awaiting
buzzards for breakfast.
Everyone trying to make a living,
nothing goes to waste,
not even peaches.
– for Mas Masumoto
Perhaps this Glossy Ibis arrived with the monsoonal flow out of the Caribbean last week, as they are common to the East Coast. Often referred to as Black Curlews, they are shaped differently than our plumper and partridge-like Long Billed Curlews and behave more like Great Egrets and Blue Herons as shallow wading birds, though smaller than both. Try as I might to record this sighting with ebird, I failed. What distribution maps I found indicate no sightings in Central California. Amazing what you see when irrigating!
(Spooked a bullfrog!)
My brother, the old farmer, says
that it’s about over, that out
in the Valley where I seldom stray,
brand new drilling rigs rise
every two miles above the orchards,
out of corn fields reaching past
underground rivers that have lost
their way—like locusts, like aliens
descended to pound and perforate
the earth with steel, pneumatic
proboscises, they shine
through sun and starlight.
In the garden, the damp earth
moves, as if alive, with tree frogs
and toads traveling the shade
from flower leaf to vegetable
like a plague, like a sign
at the end of farming
or this drought, or for El Niño rains?
All the wishing at the wellhead
doesn’t matter to a tree frog.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged El Niño, old farmers, signs, tree frogs, water wells, well drilling rigs
Last Friday evening while congratulating ourselves with a cocktail, having finished gathering, weaning, shipping our calves and processing our replacement heifers, Robbin tactfully reminded me that one of the primary purposes of this blog is to keep track of what we do on this ranch–hence this Ranch Journal entry for July 2015.
Looking back to July 2014, we had no replacement heifers to process with so little feed, so we have to go back to July 20, 2013 to see if we are ahead or behind schedule. Less calves and replacement heifers to process after a dry spring this year combined with the late spring rains in 2013 probably account for the difference. But reading the entry for 2013, little else has changed with the drought. We’re now in maintenance mode: irrigating, light feeding, and regularly checking our dwindling stock water at the higher elevations.
Though all received a second round of vaccinations, including Bangs vaccine for Brucellosis, not all of the 75 heifers will make the team. We will cull 5-10 head before turning the Wagyu bulls out in mid-December, depending on how they look. We have moved our calving date back two weeks aiming for mid-September calves, hoping for a little cooler weather. Currently, our 7-weight steers bring the same money as 600 pounders, but with weak demand to turn out on mid-West grass. A later calving date would make them a little lighter and more attractive when we sell them. And we may wait until the 1st of January 2017 to turn our bulls out, as that would also allow our cows an extra month off without a calf, as we would still wean at the end of May. Time will tell, but that’s what we’re thinking now.
So it’s out early in the morning, shade up during the day when we can.
When were children, we ran half-naked
through July and August sprinklers
where the tough Bermuda grass
always needed mowing. We spurned
shady places and lay instead with girls
getting baby lotion tans. As my flesh
cooked, I would close my eyes, fireworks
beneath their lids—my imagination ran
to places I knew nothing about—
just disconnected flashes of flames
within the black. No one seemed
to mind the heat in those days.
Posted in Haiku 2015, Photographs, Poems 2015
Tagged Brand, Fire, iron, weekly-photo-challenge