Category Archives: Ranch Journal

Adios 2015!

Photos: Lee Loverin and Terri Drewry

 

We ended the year with our neighbors helping us brand. Beautiful day, big calves, rain on the way. Happy New Year!!!

 

Back to Work

 

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Though the impacts of our four-year drought are fresh in everyone’s mind, and far from mitigated by recent rains, our approach to work has changed. With most stockwater ponds less than half-full and Dry Creek just beginning to run, no one dares suggest that the drought is over.

But instead of gathering and branding calves in the dust this year, we are watching weather forecasts trying to get our calves marked between storms. But so are our neighbors with whom we trade labor. It’s tricky business, though a welcome change.

Trying to get anything done between Christmas and New Year’s Day is usually futile, but with a promise of over an inch of rain early next week, we’re branding another bunch this morning. We gathered Tuesday and Wednesday, cut wood for the branding and cook fires, planned a meal, and even had to weed-eat the grass in the corrals so we could rope today. The pace has been tough, but with an eye towards the coming El Niño, no one is complaining (too much).

Eight inches to date on Dry Creek, more than the 2013-14 season.

 

TWO THOUSAND MOONS

 

In the road with last night’s
road-kill raccoon, he videos
an eagle light from pole

to fence post, the coyote
hesitate in the pasture
before ambling off

and he asks who would win
if he wasn’t parked
with his parents watching.

When do we lose our eye,
not recognize the shy retreat
from our presence, our history?

Two thousand moons ago
the natives left
rabbits upon our doorstep

to keep us and our guns
inside. What gods
would blind us so?

 

Too Much Fun

 

 

Four straight nights of family making music. Grandpa’s done!

 

(Photos: Neal Lett, brother Todd’s daughter Katy’s husband, OMG!)

 

 

A light caress reminder
after a long time gone,
slow wet promises of more—

of fidelity we believe
as if she never left,
our flesh blooms green.

Christmas fell in 2015
to fill four nights rejoicing,
strings and voices rising

to greet the gentle rain—
four dry years forgotten.
We’ll never be the same.

 

WPC: “Now”

 

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Weekly Photo Challenge: “Now”

 

Christmas Jam

 

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Sulphur Peak

 

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Overnight rain, wind, hail and a light dusting of snow down to 2,000 feet for our Christmas present on Dry Creek. Fairly rare, especially during the last four years.

Whole family here jamming into the late night hours (10:00 p.m., 3 hours past my bedtime), Robbin and Bob with guitars, Jaro and I with harmonicas, all singing what lyrics we knew.

All good, beautiful morning, Christmas 2015!

 

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Bagels and lochs on the deck.

 

ALWAYS MOMENTS

 

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On the weather map
watching the storm slide
slowly down the Sierras,

a green right arm wraps
around San Jose,
counterclockwise,

headed toward this warm
midsection, and I wonder:
with an upper cut of cold?

—wet inch down already,
as if the gods are on a mission
to treat us squarely—

as if there is a plan
to anything,
or just random rolls

we learn to adjust to
moment after moment
never seen before!

 

Going Home

 

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Cold and foggy yesterday morning, we drove the cows and calves we branded on Thursday back to Belle Point. A fairly easy climb to Greasy Cove as steam rises from the cattle in front of Terri, Robbin and Lee.

 

Mustard Greens

 

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A beautiful day Friday, I took my camera while checking the calves we branded, photographing this one resting comfortably in a bed of mustard greens, along with the gray cow and calf born late September.

 

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We’re taking the whole bunch back to Belle Point this morning after a slow 0.30″ rain yesterday afternoon and overnight–the same rain we raced yesterday morning while branding Tony Rabb’s calves just over the ridge in Antelope Valley.

Forecast for 8:00 a.m. up until the last moment, skies were clear at daybreak as the storm approached from the coast. Tony made the call and we hustled through 100 calves before the first drop landed at 11:30 a.m.

I note, not so much for posterity but to jog my failing memory, that we had a lot of fun at the quickened pace, far from ‘old people slow’. My first opportunity to help the neighbors brand this season, I took Bart, Robbin’s wonderful gelding, who worked well-enough to have some fun himself, a tough little horse hard not to like.

 

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I also found the Burrowing Owl in his digs Friday while checking the heifers just recently exposed to Wagyu bulls. The first wave of family arrives today. ‘Tis the season.

 

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