Bright among the oaks,
rare and far between up here,
moisture and a spring.
Bright among the oaks,
rare and far between up here,
moisture and a spring.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged cottonwood, Drought, haiku, photographs, poetry, Sulphur Peak, water, weather, weekly-photo-challenge
It’s been a long, dry year, but we’ve begun to breathe easier now that our last bunch of calves is in the weaning pen and headed to town tomorrow morning. Born last fall, they are averaging about 100 lbs. lighter than normal due to the drought, but current prices more than make up the difference.
The country we graze is cross-fenced into pastures. We gather each twice a year to brand and wean while culling the cows that don’t fit our program either due to age or late calving dates. It takes about six weeks for us to wean all our calves, but longer to brand when it rains and while we’re helping our neighbors. We try to keep our cows in the same pasture their entire lives here, familiar ground where they can make homes and the gather becomes routine. Because of our terrain, rotational grazing is impracticable—so we understock to meet most feed conditions instead.
This second year of drought, however, has reduced our cowherd by 40% while feeding 500 tons of alfalfa since last fall. Because of the time and feed required for a heifer to have her first calf, we kept no replacement heifers this year. It’s disappointing for Robbin and I to see them go and the efforts of the past twenty years reduced so drastically, but we hope to take advantage of this heavy culling by improving the genetics of our cows into the future. We are encouraged with a good base to work with, as our cowherd now is fairly young, a third of which are first and second-calf cows.
Near term, we concentrate on improving stockwater until it might rain again this fall.
Posted in Photographs
Tagged branding, Calves, cows, Drought, Dry Creek, photographs, water, weaning
Grazing the haze between
the Great Divide—
over and over again.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Great Western Divide, haiku, Kaweah Peaks, photographs, poetry, Sawtooth, weekly-photo-challenge
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged dawn, Dry Creek, haiku, photographs, poetry, weekly-photo-challenge
Native generations rise
at water, hoof and pad,
inhaled at dawn.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Drought, dust, Greasy Creek, haiku, Indian Ground, Natives, photographs, poetry, water, Yokuts
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Drought, Dry Creek, haiku, photographs, poetry, San Joaquin Valley Quail, water
We have culled the cows again,
dependable girls
raising good calves every year
let me walk within the crowd
of old hides in the corral—
we’ve known each other well.
It was artful, the long trail
of green alfalfa flakes
spaced on dry grassless ground,
last evening’s table set before
I called them from their shade tree—
before today’s auction ring.
It’s time.
They will never look
this good again.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged cull cows, Drought, Greasy Creek, photographs, poetry, weather
Early morning gather,
we occupy the foreground
close to corrals, the road,
a truck—short April grass.
Sort cows from calves—
weigh, wean and load
for fifty years since
they dammed the Kaweah
with another layer of man
we no longer notice
as we adapt like livestock
to the landscape.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Drought, first-calf heifers, Kaweah River, photographs, poetry, shipping cattle, Terminus Dam, Wagyu X, weather
Frogs frozen in clay and plaster
fired with human expressions
rest on the outside railing,
on shelves, behind glass
like angels from the past
saved for this last moment
of goodbyes, each beckoning
a memory to come alive
that was—that is everlasting.
for Carol Donnell
1938-2014
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged bullfrogs, Carol Donnell, photographs, poetry
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Armenian cucumbers, bread & butter pickles, canning, garden, haiku, photographs, poetry