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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.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
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.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged bird feeders, birds, Collared Dove, Dry Creek, Eurasian Collared Dove, Eurasian Collared Doves, photographs, Rock Pigeon, wildlife
Hollow pipe songs at first light
pierce the darkness, own the dawn
with answered calls from oak trees
and granite piles of fractured rock
balanced on the edge of time
frozen around me. Early morning
solos grow into a chorus of chants
on the other side of the door,
a primitive awakening to greet me,
to ignore my circle of chores.
We’ve become part of the landscape
they return to, generations born
near cattle, horses and water troughs.
After these dry years, a colony—
a reunion of Roadrunners nesting.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged birds, Blue Oak, Drought, Dry Creek, photographs, poetry, roadrunner, water, weather, wildlife
Two centuries of women
gone beyond
healing and grinding,
needing shade
away from men—
dead Live Oak place
to roost for years,
our pair of crows
make familiar
flutters of love
balanced on a branch,
know one another’s
every feather,
preen and quiver
with how it feels
into the gloaming
afterwards.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015
Tagged birds, crow lovers, crows, Kaweah, Live Oak, photographs, poetry, wildlife, Yokuts
Leftover cedar
logs from the house
twenty-five years ago
paid for
frame a loamy mix
of decomposing granite and clay
with horse manure
stirred and piled
fine as sand
three years fluffed
with the skid steer
and fill what could be
a feeder along the fence—
a sixty-foot trough
for bare root raspberries
blackberries
border of red onions
come summer
and it not yet spring.
Like finches building nests
we enlarge the garden
in two half-days,
tend to instincts
warm air brings
and flesh demands
like plowing fingers
in fresh-worked dirt.
We lift another glass
and see colored fruit
years from here
paid-for.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged birds, blackberry, Dry Creek, garden, photographs, poetry, raspberry, red onions, weather, weekly-photo-challenge
On the low, rocky ridge,
a Roadrunner moans for a mate
in declining octaves—first awake
February mornings, ever hopeful
for a better day of circumnavigating
barn and garden. Then returns
to hear his song carry to the creek
that has found the river now
for the first time in years, tying
dry ground, this canyon together—
breathing easier, whole again,
it spreads coolly through us
as Wood Ducks skip upstream
to feed beneath the canopies
of old oaks and sycamores.
We have learned the call,
draw him closer with an answer
only more rain can bring.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged birds, Drought, Dry Creek, garden, photographs, poetry, rain, roadrunner, water, weather, wildlife, Wood Ducks
Thin veil of snow on the Kaweahs—
granite shows on peaks undressing.
The creek slows and disappears
as the thirsty earth drinks miles
from the river, puddled behind a dam
that will not fill the Valley’s furrows.
Tan medallions, last spring’s leaves
quiver from brittle fingers of oak trees
sprinkling green hills, giving centuries
of rainfall back as decomposing homes
for smaller survivors. It is not over
despite a forecast chance of rain—
dry seasons last, leave evidence only
years of floods can erase. Almost March,
the buzzards have returned early
circling an easy harmony of generations
gone—each clear voice rising,
we hear assurance and good advice.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged birds, Blue Oak, buzzards, Drought, Dry Creek, Great Western Divide, Kaweah, Kaweah River, photographs, poetry, rain, water, weather, wildlife, Yokuts
Posted in Haiku 2015, Photographs, Poems 2015
Tagged birds, corrals, Dry Creek, Egrets, haiku, photographs, poetry, weekly-photo-challenge, wildlife
Nothing sudden, poor dry hills
like thin cows show too much bone,
I look away for a spot of green
in shadows of trees, on north slopes
to weigh our hopes: how many days left
before it rains? Bankrupt with years
of debt, of dirt exposed, of dust released,
the old oaks have given-up to start over—
to become earth again, and we
make plans to brand another bunch
like Kestrels courting spring, falling
in a flutter before me yesterday:
fourth of February, seventy-seven degrees.
Nothing sudden, we plod against the obvious
knowing nothing stays the same.