Everyone is happy, I exclaim—
half-inch rain after forty-five days without—
grass, trees, birds and animals revived,
the February air full of the future
as black cows and calves ascend
the green slopes across the canyon
reaching for the richer ridgetop feed
by evening. We raise a glass
to the generosity of all the native
gods and goddesses, to the crow pair
robbing nests and the bobcat trailing quail,
the ground re-energized—the vitality of life
spilling right before our eyes.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal
Christmas storms colored the canyon early,
purple brodiaea, blue lupine, white flakes of snow
upon the green as wildfires of poppies spread
slope to slope, mid-February, forty-five days
warm without rain. I used to think I knew
what it took to paint these hills with flowers,
like the warm spring rains in ’78
after the drought. Living here 100 years,
Nora Montgomery claimed she’d never seen
so many poppies in this canyon, solid gold—
nor I since. Each a fantasy, no two springs
the same, we live in the 10-day forecast
for rain, for grass, for cattle. The Old
Farmer’s Almanac predicts a backwards
spring, growing cooler through April—
we never know, and like the cattle
in grazing circles, we plod through time,
always eager for another taste of spring.
She foresees an early spring,
winter warm as we brand calves
in the open space between rains
this ground and cattle need
as much as we for our sanity.
The finches vie for corners
in the post and beams
that hold the roof and summer sun
at bay. Fat ground squirrels play
grab-ass, warming-up
for the real thing, planting seed
for fresh armies of vermin
to attack the garden.
Already the love songs
of a hundred coyotes
fill our dark canyon
from dusk to dawn—invite
the dogs to sing along.
One never knows about the weather—
it can do anything anytime it wants
to make geniuses or fools of us all.
Last flash of limbs
in a pagan dance
as shadows crawl
across the creek
to pull night’s curtain up
into the stars.
The canyon has come to life
with promises of spring—
birds and trees are talking
above the bulls’ primal bellowing—
tension spills with energy.
Shrill yips and howls
in every draw ignites
another all-night
canine celebration
to exasperate the dogs.
Even the old flesh perks up
with fresh strategies,
just in case the market’s up
and we get more rain—
just enough to do it over again.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal
Tagged cattle business, celebration, pagan dance, rain, spring, sycamores, water, weather
Though no one dares complain about the rain, we’ve been working towards a branding between storms as the corrals dry out. Yesterday began cold and foggy as the sun broke through occasionally.
With an exceptional crew of neighbors, it was fun and relaxed for our first branding of the year, a good opportunity for Allie (Fry) Fox to sharpen her skills. She’s been part of this ranch since she was a baby.
It’s always a pleasure having Douglas Thomason in the pen bringing his quiet and calm expertise to the party. Bodie, his young son below, looks ready to follow in his footsteps.
What a great day! Robbin and I are thrilled. Thank you all! With wild and varied predictions of rain (Atmospheric River) through New Years beginning this evening, we’re ready to enjoy the holidays.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged branding, neighbors, rain, Wagyu X Calves, weather
We make rules
to keep ourselves in line,
orderly before
whatever captain
steers our ship between
calm and storm.
Out here
unpredictable weather
calls the tune
we must dance to—
navigate this landscape
come hell or highwater.
The rules change
before our eyes—
nothing stays the same
no matter what—
but we were never taught
to quit the game.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal
Tagged circumstance, full moon, life, RESILENCE, RULES, weather
Before my time
an empty bottle cast
where there was no road,
pink with a lifetime
of blistering sunlight
and I wonder who
a horseback threw it
now in the short grass—
legends in these hills,
weathered men,
drinkers all
coping with the times—
with bankers and buyers
betting on the market
and little chance of rain.
Or what couple when
lay naked then
in wildflower sunshine.
Not much has changed
except for the price
of a cheap bottle of wine.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal
Tagged cattle business, lovers, weather, wine
Out of the Gulf to rest upon the spine
of the Sierras, run aground on the Kaweahs,
animal shapes spill overboard
after marking months of blazing days
since April showers, we watch clouds
and wonder if it rained on Arizona friends,
or if it’s pouring now on the Kings
or in the Roaring River Canyon, Rowell
Meadow darkened beneath them.
Despite hot monsoon gusts that lift
and twist the dust across the pasture,
pregnant cows sequestered to the shade,
we dare to breathe relief as the sun slides
south—split redwood and Manzanita
waiting ready near the woodstove.
With daylight comes the fretful calls of calves, two miles down canyon from our early morning coffee. By day four they will have stopped bawling for their mothers, another two miles and 2,000 feet in elevation up the canyon. Averaging 650 lbs., these nine month-old calves are not babies, yet miss the only security they’ve ever known. It is not easy. We’ve tried fenceline weaning, only to conclude that it prolonged the bawling and the anxiety on both sides of the fence.
We’ve been blessed with cooler weather this week as we gathered the Paregien Ranch to haul the calves off the hill, six gooseneck loads down a steep, 4-wheel drive track to Dry Creek—two hours round trip. Limited to loose part-loads, we have to panel half of the calves forward over the pickup’s back axel to maintain traction, each trip leaving the dirt road a little looser. The following day, we culled the cows deeply, limited to five or six cows per trip as we prepare for continued drought conditions.
All things considered, we’re pleased with the condition of the calves and cows. With one more pasture yet to wean, we will wait until the coming hot spell passes with a forecast high of 113°. We’ve experienced a more volatile pattern (than what once was normal), between highs and lows this June https://drycrikjournal.com/weather/journal-2020-21/ and hope for another cooling trend a week from now.
Meanwhile, we fill the barns with hay today.
Despite the welcome 1.5” of rain this month, bringing our total rainfall for the season on Dry Creek to a meager 6”, our grass is short and thin, especially on the south and west slopes of our lower foothill country. Unless we get some well-spaced rains in April, we will wean our calves early, probably weighing 50 lbs. lighter than usual. With limited stockwater and no dry feed to carry our cows through summer, fall and to an unknown beginning of our rainy season, we will have cull our cow herd deeply. A strong high pressure ridge, typical of La Niña, is blocking storm activity to California and the rest of the West. Furthermore, market returns for cattle producers are stuck in an unsustainable range, in part due to Covid-19.
After a wonderfully fun day helping Kenny and Virginia McKee brand their calves in Woolley Canyon yesterday, Robbin and I are moving slowly as we recuperate by enjoying the colors of spring in the gathering fields around us. The lush appearance of the Fiddleneck and Popcorn Flowers in the photo below is deceptive as they have little nutritional value for cattle, but they do shade the ground and help hold what moisture we have.
drycrikjournal 