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
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
Near the Solstice,
my irrigation water languishes,
lollygags in the pasture
of short-cropped green
and a few too many cows—
soaking and absorbed
fifty yards shy
of the wilting end
to my temporary world.
Fifty years ago,
my mother’s father
curtly admonished me,
forever instilled
that nothing is permanent.
After a dark night
of chasing dreams,
I wonder if death
is nothing—
nothing more
than a good sleep
while the water runs
to pasture’s end.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged death, Dry Creek, irrigation, nothing, permanent, photographs, poetry, water, weather
Posted in Photographs
Tagged Drought, Greasy Creek, photographs, rain, Sulphur Peak, water, Wordless Wednesday
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Drought, Dry Creek, feed, garden, haiku, photographs, poetry, Wagyu X mothers, water, weather, weeds
Black and brazen, the crows light close
to harvest nests in this speck of green
upon miles of dry and dusty brown as if
they own it—as if they labored here.
After last year’s cherry crop, Golden
Orioles homestead the Palo Verde tree.
In a patch of yellow monkeyflowers,
cottontails and quail cue up at the leaky
water trough, not a drop goes to waste.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Drought, photographs, poetry, water, wet seep monkeyflower, wildflowers
The past two dry years have been tough on the Great Blue Herons here, resorting to year-round rodent hunting to sustain themselves. With a measureable flow for only 18 days this year, absorbed before it made it to the Kaweah River, Dry Creek peaked at 9 cfs on April 3rd, compared to the 2010-11 season when Dry Creek ran until September 4, 2011. It’s too late for the chance of showers (and thunderstorms) today and tonight to help our feed or the herons much other than settle the dust and temporarily change the smell of things with only 5.67” of rain since October 2013. Those are the numbers, but one look at our April feed conditions says it all.
An image branded in my brain during the devastating Drought of 1977 is that of a Great Blue Heron fishing from the concrete bank of the Friant-Kern Canal near Exeter that gave me hope, that demonstrated their adaptability to me. No wonder they have become our totems—now if we can just take their lead.
Posted in Photographs
Tagged adaptability, Drought, Dry Creek flow, Friant-Kern Canal, Great Blue Heron, Kaweah River, photographs, water, weather