The day has come to plant the seed,
these youngsters knowing nothing
of one another, of propagation,
or the nine months before
she becomes a mother
nosing and nursing her first calf—
deep-rooted instinct drives them.
A dead-beat dad, he moves on
to practice what he’s learned,
to keep track of all the girls
he sorts by name and nature,
always ready to go to work
or play like people we know
from the Internet news,
or some a bit closer to home.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2025, Ranch Journal
Tagged breeding, bulls, heifers, photography, poetry
Granite outcrops clean,
lichen islands
ignite in flames,
November’s sunset
after a good long rain—
gray back to green,
both slopes and flats—
creek stalled
a mile upcanyon,
black dots
of cows and calves
grazing ridgetops.
Glistening tree bough
drops diamonds glistening,
raining rain.
There is more to heaven,
I suppose, a giving-up
of tarnished flesh
and character,
collected wisdom
won the hard way
for eternity—
this canyon green
I’d rather stay.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2025, Ranch Journal
Lots of commentary on the cattle business lately with a focus on the price of beef. But relative to inflation, $20 will buy a cheeseburger, fries and a soda or a USDA Choice New York steak at Costco. What a deal!
Our 4-year drought (2012-2016) doesn’t seem that long ago when we had to cull some older bred cows for slaughter in order to feed the rest of our herd expensive hay. A good part of the reason why producing cow numbers are at a 75 year low. Though the media has its red meat theories, nobody mentions that the US population has more than doubled since 1951. This is simple to understand: supply and demand.
KEEPING SECRETS
How do they know, these old fat cows
that read a baggy sadness in my walk
among them checking irons as they pull
alfalfa stems apart to tongue green leaf
in the corral? The gates are set, waiting
for the truck to town. There is nothing
right about the moment, that they know—
little consolation in my voice, they eye me
suspiciously searching for details
in my muted gestures. If I told them
all I know of town, of auction rings
and rails, they would all revolt
for the brushy hills, lay fences down
to take their chances without water
through the summer—that I know.
-JCD (“Best of the Dry Years, 2012-2016”)
The three variables for the cattle business are weather, price and politics, any one which can reduce our once-a-year paycheck to a loss, but two or more can be an economic disaster—none of which have we, nor the government, any control over.
In the photo above, Robbin and I fed a few replacement heifers before the forecast Atmospheric River. The grass geminated last month has become short and spotty and we have to keep them in shape to cycle and breed when we turn the bulls out in two weeks—just part of the business.
As I write, it’s been raining overnight.
Posted in Photographs, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged beef, Drought, Dry Creek, photography, poetry, politics, rain, red meat, water, weather
I wake with the dream after telling Earl
how many cattle of his I saw, ten to twenty
cows at a distance in and out of the brush,
chemise and manzanita peeling flies off their backs
while grazing new green under their protection—
part of a flat mountain pasture claiming space
between the rocky slopes of Live Oak
with a good spring hidden from mortal eyes—
a perfect place for heaven, for the cows and calves
I spied that we agreed to gather this morning.
They didn’t seem shy, didn’t lift their heads
to see me on the ridge trying to get a count
while searching for an overgrown way out
as they moved slowly, one step at a time,
each leg waiting its turn towards taller grass.
But which horse that has died am I too old to ride,
though Earl is young and ready without a plan
for the adventure? Panicked, what am I to do?
I roll awake relieved from dark saddling, overjoyed
to have connected with my neighbor and foster father.
Earl A. Mckee, Jr.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2025, poetry
Tagged DREAMS, Earl McKee, Harvest Supermoon 2025, photography, poetry
Our friend and neighbor Chuck Fry had just placed his new trail cam up on the Paregien Ranch the day before this shot, (October 8th, so ignore the time and date that he hasn’t brought up to speed). We were surprised and shocked to see three lions, who judging from the location and their direction, had just passed through our cows and calves around the water tough in the daylight. It makes us nervous, nevertheless–a wonder we have any calves at all.
Short of a half-inch of rain, on the cusp of our first northern storm, we’ve been calving for 30 days now and feeding these first and second-calf heifers until the green grass comes. The cows leave their calves in nurseries, though some are old enough to eat hay.
But like children of any age bunched-up and left alone, they look like they’re headed for trouble. Robbin caught their hillarious high jinks while mama’s not looking in the following video.
A great time of year!
We kept relics in the garden
to remind us of the sentries at night
surrounding orchards of oranges
their fire-red caps lit,
smokestacks glowing, chugging
diesel to keep the freeze out.
A black cloud hung low
in the mornings over Exeter,
white diaphanous curtains gray,
suet under grammar school noses
to save the crop of gold
the town depended on in the old days.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2025, poetry
Tagged Exeter, freeze, oranges, photography, poetry, smudge pots
Photo: Allie Fox
It’s that time of year when the cows begin calving, and these two girls were in the bottom of a Ridenhour Canyon when Allie, her sister Katie and the two 1 year-old boys, Asher and Hayes, passed by on the way to check water in Paregien’s. Robbin and I have been checking the first and second calf heifers after they’re fed… and yes, we’re feeding hay too, having just increased the amount to keep up their strength before they calve. We have a few on the ground already, coyotes thick as fleas on a ground squirrel. It’s always exciting, and sometimes disappointing when you lose one.
Naturally, we love this time of year, especially now that the temperature is running in the 90s. It’s our beginning of the year.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged Calving, feeding, New Year, photography, Ridenhour Canyon
As we’ve done every year, we’re recording our first calf of the season here to substantiate of our Age and Source verification for the USDA. Tag # 3362 is now a second calf heifer.
I’ve let the blog slip by with little or no posts lately while I’ve been working on a new collection of poetry, “Native Harmonies; ranch poems”. It’s been a stop and go project for the past year that I’ve pared down to about 90 poems now. Sean Sexton offered one of his paintings that he exhibited at 2025 National Poetry Gathering in Elko for the cover. Here’s my mock up:
It’s been a mild summer as the days are now getting shorter and cooler. Big Wind last week had me moving vehicles out from under trees, gale force winds Saturday while Phoenix was also getting blown away. Influenced by monsoon activity, August is our month for thunderstorms, lightning and wildfires. Looking forward to fall, and a chance for rain.
Posted in Photographs, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged 1st Calf 2025, photography, poetry, weather
Too bright to sleep
or wrestle with dreams
with a full Sturgeon hole
rising from the ridgeline
into the night sky
like a gigantic galactic leak
upon us, for all the UFOs
and UAPs to pass through,
for all the excuses we need
to behave like lunatics.
drycrikjournal 