It’s always been about the girls
on this landscape, grass and water
notwithstanding: the basic elements
of endless awe as maternal blooms
before our eyes with faint reflection
from whence we came.
We have lent all we know, watched
generations grow into mothers—
it’s always been about the girls.
While checking our stock water, we’re also feeding hay to our cows at the higher elevations, now three weeks away from beginning to calve. We culled heavy in May when we weaned our last year’s calves knowing that our stock water would be limited, especially on Top. We’ve opened those cows into two other pastures with springs that are struggling to maintain a flow into troughs. While feeding yesterday, we ran into this young buck, still with a little velvet, at the salt, reminding us that deer season opens soon, bringing us a little closer to the end of summer, shorter days and a chance of rain. We closed the ranch to deer hunting last year because of drought, feed conditions and lack of cover, and will again this year, allowing this buck a better chance to grow up.
One of four calves born a month early. A quick review of our records indicate that a bull fight occurred last October 26th when two bulls gained entry into the pasture of the second-calf heifers. Fence fixed and bulls out the next morning. But we’ll take a rain or a calf anytime.
One more reason to postpone town—
my list of necessities buried in a yellow tablet
of half-poems, songs you want to learn to play
on your father’s Martin—we are almost
self-sufficient with the garden, fresh limes
for our evening Tanqueray watching cows
come into water before grazing up hillsides.
Some waddle now, heavy with calf. Summer
seems to want to leave early on gusts,
shadows longer on the cusp of change
we mustn’t miss—another day of details
to keep us closer to the home we’ve made.
On the way to water, she’s learned
to like mustard seed in August,
lives up the dry creek bed alone.
Several Blue Oaks (Quercus douglasii) at the 2,200′ elevation were covered with these galls, ranging in color from rosy red to orange. There are over a dozen different kinds of oak galls, but I’d never seen these before. After a cursory search of the Internet, I’ve identified them as Wool Sower Galls. We have been concerned about the current drought’s impact on the Live and Blue Oaks on the ranch, killing a conservative 10-15%, though we have stands of 10-20 acres that are only leafless skeletons.
Exerts from Glenn Keator’s “The Life of an Oak”, (1998 Heyday Books) is fascinating reading: Whether galls harm oaks is uncertain; their prominence on weak trees suggests that possibility, although most studies don’t implicate galls in the death of oaks. This notwithstanding, heavy infestations may further weaken trees that are already stressed.
One highly specialized group of insects–the cynipid wasps (family Cynipidae)–is responsible for the majority of oak galls. White oaks host the greatest numbers of gall species. And among the white oaks, Quercus douglasii, the California foothill species called blue oak, harbors the most lavish diversity of them all.
Life for a cynipid begins as an egg laid in the young, active meristematic tissues of twigs, buds, leaves, or flowers. Meristems, where cells actively divide to add new growth. Because the newly formed cells have not yet taken on any specialized mature form–they do that later–they are able to accept new “programming.” This is what the cynipid hosts provide.
Some researchers have even gone so far as to suggest that there be actual bits of DNA from viruses in the larvae’s saliva. Viral DNA can replace the genetic machinery of host cells, completely reprogramming them and their activities, though how and why these viruses would have entered into such a specific relationship with the larvae is not clear.
My photos below suggest the Wool Sower Gall evolves from a small red growth that explodes into a hard, wooly-looking gall. It should be noted that these blue oaks are relatively healthy, especially compared to the many around them already losing leaves. It should also be noted that we haven’t seen many acorns for the past three years with the exception of these trees this year. I’ll try to keep track of these oaks and galls going forward, but any more info would be appreciated.
Weekly Photo Challenge (3): “Inspiration”
Some readers of this blog know that August is our weather indicator month for the following three months, 30-day cycles that presumably will intensify into winter when another ninety-day cycle sets up. We track our indicators and wait for confirmation in September, and hopefully storms in October.
Check out the link for current details for weather and fires in California, and a weekend forecast for Northern California.
Hens of summer
from under cover
grazing irrigated green—
man,
bird,
and beast
making ample livings
at first light—
no need for greed.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged irrigated pasture, making a living, turkeys
Thirty days away from their third calf, these girls gathered in the shade are watching me change the irrigation water on the pasture. Bred to Vintage Angus bulls, we’re excited about their calves, though a bit dismayed that it’s that time of year again. On a normal year, they would be on dry feed in the hills, but with little water at the higher elevations, we’ve kept them closer to home.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
On August 18, 2013, unusual high winds left this tree in a tangle of fallen limbs. DCJ file A landmark and reference point as we gather cattle, we sadly wrote it off as a permanent casualty of the weather, but despite the drought and its hopeless state, it perseveres and remains alive.
Weekly Photo Challenge (2): “Inspiration”
drycrikjournal 
