With all the hoopla surrounding Climate Change and the approaching El Niño, suddenly the world is focused on the weather and a myriad of conflicting scientific observations and conclusions, heretofore ignored by most in the past. But for those of us involved in grazing livestock and dependent on the bounties of Mother Nature, October is the beginning of our rainy season as we try to look ahead into our futures.
Historically, “The Old Farmer’s Almanac” has offered as accurate a forecast as any:
PACIFIC SOUTHWEST
November 2023
4° below average
Precipitation 5” (1” below average)
December 2023
4° below average
Precipitation 3” (4” below average)
January 2024
3° below average
Precipitation 5” (1” below average)
February 2024
2° above average
Precipitation 6.5” (2” above average)
March 2024
3° above average
Precipitation 1.5” (2.5” below average)
April 2024
2° above average
Precipitation 5” (1.5” above average)
May 2024
2° above average
Precipitation 0.5” (1.5” below average)
June 2024
1° below average
Precipitation 0.05” (1” below average)
For what it’s worth, the rain total comes to 27”, well above our 15” average. We’ll just have to wait and see.
We could blame last spring’s atmospheric rivers, double our average rainfall for the season that kept us from branding our calves on the Paregien Ranch. Our heifer calves were exposed to our slick bull calves until we weaned in May, possibly bred that would miss our calving target date of October. A February calf instead would jeopardize the heifer and eliminate her from our replacement bunch.
When we vaccinated the heifers for clostridial, respiratory and Brucellosis diseases in June, we also injected them with Lutalyse to abort any short-term fetuses. Lutalyse is commonly used to synchronize heat cycles, especially when groups of cattle are to be artificially inseminated.
We’ve had an abundance of strong feed this summer, helping to keep our heifers in shape and cycling when we turn our low-birth weight bulls out in the middle of December. And as expected, they have been cycling, bulling, practicing all at once—a bovine orgy, a virtual humpfest.
Unfortunately, one heifer was crippled in the raucous activity, unable to put any weight on her right hind leg. We hauled water and hay to her for three days before walking her into the pen by the house. Shortly thereafter, she (Thelma) attracted a friend (Louise) who spent days and nights for week with her on the other side of the fence while the rest of the heifers were off grazing.
After two weeks, Thelma is much better now, and taking full strides. Louise was back again last evening to check on her friend. The bond is obvious. They may be twins, as we had several sets, but more than likely they were just raised together. Whether or not Thelma recovers well enough to make the replacement bunch remains to be seen. But either way, blame it on climate change and too much rain.
I don’t recall Dry Creek ever flowing into August, as springs continue to feed this morning’s 9 cfs (cubic feet/second). March’s atmospheric river estimated 8,000 cfs, that scoured the channel and undermined the gauging station, left few places to cross the resultant boulder fields and cutbanks. Only now, as our cattle work winds down, do we have time to address some of the impacts of last spring’s rains.
Both for vehicles and cattle, I had to move our crossing downstream. Moving the big rocks was rough work for the skid steer, but I had all the materials I needed in the high water drifts of sand and gravel to smooth the crossing this morning—less than a three hour job. On the way to the corrals, hoof action of our replacement heifers will smooth it a little more.
We’re looking forward to September when the cows begin to calve, another month of a hundred degree weather that often extends into October, but the hot summer days are getting shorter.
We train our young replacement heifers to be gentle and to follow the Kubota or feed truck when we feed so when they go up the hill in the next year or two, we can gather them and their calves easily. Having been through the same process, their mothers and grandmothers have imprinted this same calmness on their calves.
Due to the atmospheric rivers, we were unable to see our cattle for 3 months, but the calves gentled down quickly in the weaning pen on alfalfa hay. Now weaned about 30 days, they’ve been turned out along the creek on native feed and a little extra green due to the spring rains. We’ve been supplementing them once-a -week. While I was photographing the floods’ ensuing boulder fields and patches of cockleburs, they heard the Kubota and followed me, on the march, towards the feed ground, hoping it was the right day.
drycrikjournal 