Category Archives: Ranch Journal

Killdeer Update

 

 

Keeping track of our cattle is never perfect, but keeping track of the Killdeer, even for a short time, requires so much assumption and speculation that it verges on fiction. Nevertheless, our Killdeer, defending the eggs in her nest, disappeared with her babies for the creek last week. Due to the drought and a creek that hasn’t run much for the past three years, we’ve had only one Killdeer nesting in our gravel driveway so far this spring.

Robbin noted that one of our pair of crows was carrying what appeared to be the white fluff of a Killdeer chick back to their nest earlier this week. We know how it goes, everyone is someone’s breakfast. But yesterday, crossing the remaining puddles in the creek, we found two chicks and an attentive, adult Killdeer in the cobbles and grass.

Getting two out of four to the creek, 200 yards and across the road, is a good percentage when one considers the gopher snake on the prowl for eggs, the crows and a variety of other predators. It’s a leap to assume this is the same Killdeer, but with no others around our driveway to the house, not as far as you might think.

 

SHE

 

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It was good to see her,
visiting like a sister
forty days late
with much on her mind.

Never aging and beautiful,
she spent the afternoon
outside in the gray—
left a rainbow behind.

 

JUST A THOUGHT

 

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Never really green with grass,
the south slopes tried to hide the clay,
standing naked in underwear

these past three years. Too late for rain,
precursor clouds let their shadows run
up canyon walls on gusts that stir

our dry flesh, that lift the hair—
each excited follicle reaching
to dance with the thought of rain.

 

Wind Gust—Macro-Monday, Weekly-Photo-Challenge: “Blur”

 

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Easter on Dry Creek is normally green and verdant with skiffs of popcorn flowers and patches of poppies on the hillsides. A month ago, I hoped for a long spring and time to photograph this year’s wildflowers with an eye for their expression as life forms, the evolved complexities of each species’ pollination structure, background lines and colors, etc., etc., but Robbin and I have spent the last three days preparing and planting our summer garden instead. C’est la vie!

 

 

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HOW MANY MOONS?

 
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If we measured life
in moons misused and wasted,
how many left full?

 

 

                              And as the moon rises he sits by his fire
                              Thinking about women and glasses of beer
                              And closing his eyes as the dogies retire
                              He sings out a song which is soft but it’s clear
                              As if maybe someone could hear…

                                        – James Taylor (“Sweet Baby James”)

 

APRIL 2, 2015

 

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Thirty days ago we hoped
for a better spring,
for clouds to rain us
back to normal
as we looked down
Ridenhour Canyon
to Dry Creek Road—
to the orchards
of Lemon Cove.

Hills now brittle and brown,
last year’s dead oak skeletons
have company, naked
as the Kaweahs—tilted
granite rock without snow.

Corporate Ag without water
drills wells to hell—
spending billions
into the Pleistocene
to hasten the conclusion
of farming the San Joaquin.

We had hoped for a better spring,
another month of rain and green,
creeks and rivers overflowing,
flooding Valley towns.

 

APRIL FOOLS

 

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We have come the long way,
rode uneven ground together
ever since that first day

bringing cattle off the mountain,
you there, at the corrals:
Craig’s branding at the cabin.

I could only see pieces of you
busy outside, between the boards,
as we parted cows from calves.

Or was it when he died young,
all consoling one another?
Perhaps the Belle Point cows,

my mixed and colored herd,
fat calves grazing spring,
let you let me touch your hand.

We were friends a long time
before our pillow talk of trust
and honesty, before all this

circling home and horse barn,
our ever-changing garden,
black first-calf heifers at the fence

looking in as we look out
at what we’ve done as one
the long way ‘round.

 

Killdeer Nesting

 

 

Not far from the Roadrunner’s cactus nest, a Killdeer is also sitting on eggs. The shoulder of our gravel driveway usually offers three or four Killdeer a good place to hide and incubate their eggs. To keep from running over them, we’ve been known to place a rock close to the nest. Once hatched, the Killdeer takes her babies to the creek about 200 yards away. But barely running this year and last, we’ve only this one Killdeer nesting.

I had hoped to get photos of her broken wing act, her ploy to lure the dogs away. But she stood her ground yesterday to protect her nest.

 

Drought: Blue Oaks

 

March 24, 2015

March 24, 2015

 

The impact of three years of drought on the Blue Oaks shows up well as the trees that have survived begin to leaf out. (Click to enlarge) These Blue Oaks are across the creek from our house, on a north slope at the 1,200-foot elevation. No rain in sight, the grass has turned 30 days earlier than normal as we prepare to head into an early summer.

 

Eurasian Collared Dove

 

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After a brief visit last spring, our count of Eurasian Collared Doves increased to four yesterday, including what appears (above) to be a juvenile, in just a matter of weeks. In order of appearance, the first pair began breeding and nest building almost immediately, followed by another male, then yesterday’s juvenile.

Pretty birds bigger than a Mourning Dove and slightly smaller than a Rock Pigeon, we’re not sure their presence is a blessing. Time will tell whether the most invasive species in Texas will become as big a nuisance as the Rock Pigeons, who thankfully disappeared last fall as their numbers dwindled through the summer.

The Collared Dove makes what has become an annoying two-syllable cooing sound just before it lands in a tree or on the ground where it feeds, that I can only describe as a distant baby crying, like the 1950s dolls that cried when you tipped them. Wiki notes that the species is ‘not wary’, that has connotations of stupidity for me, but I’d agree they’re fairly tame and unafraid, but observant enough to find our bird feeders immediately. The bird has many unique and interesting characteristics described in the links included here.

All About Birds