Robbin brought in and armload of (4) Striped Armenian Cucumbers early this morning that neither the rabbits nor squirrels have bothered this summer. More work, of course. This will be her umpteenth batch of crunchy dill pickles. The Bombay bottle has found a second life, filled with citronella now to deter the flies.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged Bombay, flies, pickles, Striped Armenian Cucumbers
Forgive the fruit flies
their penchant for wine,
their bitter taste
and I
for defying nature
with a lid.
There is no end to it,
the assault
to comfort and convenience.
Our country is dry and short. We’ve pulled the bulls off the irrigated pasture to make room for our bred heifers due to begin calving by the middle of September. We will have to feed the bulls in this pasture where Allie and Terri were driving a few to water last week. Even though we’ve sold 25% of our cows, we continue to step up the amount of hay we’re feeding with no idea of when it will end or whether it will pay for itself in the long run. But if we have to sell more cows, we just don’t want them to be thin.
Cooper’s Hawk
under a rainbird’s shower,
yellow eyes
mermaid and frog
before taking a drink
at the ‘sip and dip’.
Too hot to hurry
in the heat
we all grow tame.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal
Tagged Cooper's Hawk, Drought, water, wild
Four-thirty and it’s cooled down
from 115—black cows are leaving
sycamore shade for the water trough,
>
plodding several hundred yards of hard clay
and short blond fuzz to drink,
not like last night’s forceful mob,
>
but one-by-one, the order established
over years of living together—uphill
two hundred more to shady Blue Oaks
>
to gather and decide which way to go.
The heat has slowed their rhythm
only slightly, they are bound to graze
>
what’s left on the slopes behind us:
take the steep trail to the top of the ridge
or the long pull only part-way to the sky.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal
Tagged bovine democracy, cow, grazing, habits, politics
Pulling the first of 12 joints of 20’ pipe plus the pump this morning after losing water last evening. We weaned our last bunch of calves Thursday when we hauled them out of Greasy, and were celebrating our good fortune until the pump quit. Fortunately, Willits Equipment had time and personnel to replace the pump and control box by 1:00 this afternoon. This well also serves our house.
Just one of the joys of rural living, but we wouldn’t trade it for the alternative.
Midday siesta, I dream of water running
down the Tule, ouzels dipping, or
beer cooling in an eddy on the Kern—
of you and I, our faces streaked with rain
as if we were crying—love in our eyes.
All the mud-stuck trucks, leap-frogging,
winches whining as the clouds cracked,
bursting with more of the same.
>
What else can we look forward to
this afternoon, inches from the Solstice,
what else can we do but dream? The air
is thin and burns the lungs. Leaves curl
in the garden while cows commiserate
in the shade of sycamores and oaks,
all their stories stored within rings,
chatter from the good old days.
>
And what of native wisdom banked
in their massive trunks, or smooth gossip rocks
in the living Live Oak shade? All the secrets
we have lost to progress, all the important
unimportant things that have not saved time,
but accelerated it and our poor hearts
just trying to keep up. 110 degrees at noon,
what else can we do but dream?
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal
Tagged dream, heat, progress, rivers, siesta, tree rings, water, wisdom
Light show late last night, mostly cloud to cloud I’m told because I was sleeping, except for one thunderbolt that touched down on the Paregien Ranch. Eerie dawn with dark clouds and a big wind to fan the flames, cowtrails corralled half the fire in short feed. CalFire crews, helicopter and DC 9 kept the loss to 15 acres. Crazy weather: 116° at 4:00 p.m.
With daylight comes the fretful calls of calves, two miles down canyon from our early morning coffee. By day four they will have stopped bawling for their mothers, another two miles and 2,000 feet in elevation up the canyon. Averaging 650 lbs., these nine month-old calves are not babies, yet miss the only security they’ve ever known. It is not easy. We’ve tried fenceline weaning, only to conclude that it prolonged the bawling and the anxiety on both sides of the fence.
We’ve been blessed with cooler weather this week as we gathered the Paregien Ranch to haul the calves off the hill, six gooseneck loads down a steep, 4-wheel drive track to Dry Creek—two hours round trip. Limited to loose part-loads, we have to panel half of the calves forward over the pickup’s back axel to maintain traction, each trip leaving the dirt road a little looser. The following day, we culled the cows deeply, limited to five or six cows per trip as we prepare for continued drought conditions.
All things considered, we’re pleased with the condition of the calves and cows. With one more pasture yet to wean, we will wait until the coming hot spell passes with a forecast high of 113°. We’ve experienced a more volatile pattern (than what once was normal), between highs and lows this June https://drycrikjournal.com/weather/journal-2020-21/ and hope for another cooling trend a week from now.
Meanwhile, we fill the barns with hay today.
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