Tag Archives: Greasy Creek

Rites of Spring

IMG_8015

 

On our loop of Greasy Creek to check the cattle last Sunday, we interrupted some strutting wild turkey toms busy with their rites of spring in our Gathering Field.

 

IMG_3331

 

IMG_8030

 

Ode to Motherhood

IMG_8159

For most people, a cow is a cow, but the grace of this native pair despite their good flesh, a seven year-old Hereford cow and her heifer calf, approaches the perfection of motherhood for me, reminding of an ode included in “Poems from Dry Creek” and published by Starhaven in 2008.

 

IO

On the horns of an infant moon,
the creek shrinks and pools
between sycamores and live oaks

as babies come to first-time mothers
bringing the bear tracks downcanyon
on the scent of spent placentas.

Black progeny of the river nymph –
white heifer driven madly by Hera’s
gadfly Oestrus to cross continents

and populate Asia – find maternity
perplexing at first. Yet, lick and nuzzle
the stumbling wet struggle to stand,

suckle and rest that enflames instinct
in all flesh. Worthy timeless worship,
no better mother ever than a cow.

WPC – Letters

IMG_3476

Weekly Photo Challenge

Robbin and I made the loop in Greasy Creek yesterday to check on our cattle and feed conditions. Robbin photographed this roll of used barbed wire and granite patch of Bush Monkeyflowers that reminded me of David Lee’s entertaining poem:

 

BARBED WIRE

                    You just cut that sombitch right here
                           – Karl Kopp, Yarbrough Mountain

It isn’t no easy way
to find the endpiece of wore
onct it’s in the roll
you can pick it up bounced it round
like this or roll it
upside the barn hard
mebbe it’ll pop out
most times not
don’t cost nothin to try
it was this man back home
name Johnny Ray Johnston
a inventor
he invented this thing that could help
find the endpiece
and sent it off to Warshington

he had this brother
name Haroldwayne Johnston
a blind gospel preacher
he wasn’t always
he’s a mean sonofabitch young
all filt up with sin and equity
fighting raising hell
had three four of them girls
his age up to the doctor
all before he’s called
it was this other brother
name Leonas Timothy Johnston
he neve learnt to read
so he got a job with the highway patrol
got shot by a shiner
i seen that worefinder
it worked my brother he bought one
where’d them pliers go?
so Haroldwayne one day
he’s out in this field
where the neighbors run his hogs
hiding in the shinery
shooting a pellet gun
to watch them squolt and run
I guess he was lesse
it was two years before he tried to heal
Mavis Tittle’s one that died
of the toothache so he must have been twenty-four
goddam watch it
worell tear the hide right off
your hands you seen them gloves?

this storm come up a sudden
caught him out there
looking like a cyclone
he had to get home so he run
by the time he got to the fence
it was hailballs coming down
he tried to climb through with the gun
poached hisself
shot right up his nose
made all the blood go in his eyeballs
he’s blind
that fence caught him
he’s straddled of one wore
the top one had him grapt by the butt
here comes the storm
he sez he could feel that wore
go green when the lightening struct
made him a eunuch
he could look right at a naked womern
wouldn’t nothing go down
nor come up after that
you find them pliers? look
in the jockey box or under the seat
sez he heard God call him

he’d been hollering like a sonofabitch
they heard all the way to the house
and was fixing to come but he quit
they waited till it quit raining
sez they’d of thought he’s dead
and that would of made two
only one brother left for a seed crop
all that blood out his nose
except he’s praying to hisself out loud
he never even heard them coming up
it isn’t none there? look
in the back see if it’s some sidecutters
or something so they known he’d got religion
and they never seen he’s even blind yet

he’s a gospel preacher after
and Johnny Ray’s a inventer
Leonas Timothy was arredy shot dead
what it was was a piece of wore
it could be fixed on the end at the store
except it was red paint on it
wherever the red was was the end
when you’s through using wore
then fix the red one on
next time there’d be the endpiece red
Haroldwayne he saved hundreds of lostsouls
come all over to hear him heal
best on headaches and biliousness
it was one family had this crippled boy
come about eighty miles to see him gospel preach
brung this boy up front
he taken and grapt his head
hollers the words and sez now walk
but he fell on his ast still crippled
they sez it wasn’t Haroldwayne’s fault
them people didn’t have the faith
I heard he drownt a year or two after that
the govament never did send Johnny Ray
no patent agreement we figured
he kept the invention for hisself
so Johnny Ray he made some up
and sold to his friends around town
you caint buy it nowhere else
I wisht I had one now
I’ve waste more damn time on wore today
then I have to lose
bring them pliers here
let’s cut this sonofabitch it don’t matter where
we gone set here all day
won’t never get this damn fence done.

“Barbed Wire” from Porcine Canticles
©1984 by David Lee, Reprinted by permission
Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271 Port Townsend,
WA 98368 (360/385-4925)

courtesy: poetryexplorer.net

February Snow

Sulphur Peak

Sulphur Peak

Pogue Canyon

Pogue Canyon

There are no weekends off this time of year as we juggle days around the weather, neighbors’ brandings and our own, trying get the work done. Low snow down to about 1,000 feet with the last cold front that brought 0.62” of welcome rain, we gathered the Wagyu bulls yesterday for their return to Snake River Farms in Idaho, for their TB tests and Health Certificates before they leave California.

Roads into the foothills are impassable, corrals too muddy to brand, neighbors try to reschedule plans to mark their calves, often with cattle gathered on short grass. This time of year, one day runs into the next until we’re all done.

Greasy watershed

Greasy watershed

Though hard on our cows who have endured nearly three months of abnormally cold weather, we’ll gladly take the snow, any kind of moisture with less than eight inches of precipitation this season, well-below normal. The snow melts slowly, retreating only 500 feet yesterday, to saturate the ground beneath like a time-released prescription. We are still feeding hay in the Greasy watershed each chance we get, but it will be next week, after three more rescheduled brandings, before we can get another pickup load up the hill.

Though I know we’ve had cold winters before, I don’t remember one with such a devastating impact on our cows. One day at a time, and before we know it, we’ll have wildflowers and then be complaining about the summer heat.

Robbin and Bart

Robbin and Bart

FIVE HUNDRED SOULS

I am here to gather cattle, ride the ridges,
see – light step on the morning, rising
higher before the sun shatters atop Broke-Up
to search out darkness in the draws.

Soft dirt under hoof, cowtrails cut in grass
on grade travel easy to the same places,
speak no tracks yet today. The Coyote Tree
is dying, lost the limbs they hung them on

in the old days, my young days when
this was the way – old road the CCCs
with wheelbarrows, pick and shovel,
mule-drawn Fresno scraper in the hands

of many men carved upwards out of Greasy
where it met the Kaweah before the lake,
the dam, before the lowland changed.
Wide sand beach with tules, cattail-hemmed

Wukchumne camp, five hundred souls
before me. I was afraid, dark within
Chiishe’s den in Belle Point’s flank.
Hear my father say, ‘Keep your eyes peeled!’

I am here to gather cattle, ride the day
down – cows, calves and a century and a half
spread before me – the buck and run of years
that haven’t changed, still shaping me.

                                                            for Hank

Greasy Loop

Kaweah Watershed - January 10, 2011

The gray fog and low clouds clinging to these saturated foothills finally gave way to a little sunshine yesterday. This shot of the snowpack in the Kaweahs was taken from a ridge below Sulphur Peak. I attempted the loop in Greasy to check the cows and calves and to make certain that our bulls were still home working, and to assess the condition of our roads. It’s WET, water running, dribbling, oozing everywhere. With an accumulation since December 15th, our rain gauge overflowed, holding 12 inches when completely full – a lot of rain for this country in a little over two weeks.

Creek in the Road

I ran into the creek at the bottom of Sulphur, a part of the flow diverted into the road up the draw by limbs, leaves and debris that I was able to remove with a shovel and chainsaw. Remarkable runoff when one considers that the last significant rain occurred a week ago.

All the stock ponds are full and running out their spillways. I couldn’t complete my loop because the pond at Grapevine was going over the dam/road, and I had to backtrack through Sulphur to get off the mountain. Despite the cold on the Kubota, it was exhilarating to see some sun and cattle.

Slick - calves unbranded

(click photos to enlarge)

Sulphur Branding 2010

Photos by Earl McKee

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

We branded last Friday and were lucky enough to have Earl bring his camera to his corrals in Greasy – a beautiful day! In the slideshow are Kenny & Virginia McKee, Tony Rabb, Doug Thomason, Brent Huntington, Zach Shaver, Chad Lawerence, Chuck Fry, Clarence & Frances Holdbrooks, Robbin, Bob & I.  Thanks all!