A Scratching Ghost, and Way-too Friendly Neighbors

Several months ago, I purchased a 6-year-old Charolais bull for my small cow herd.  He's a big white, muscular guy, and very quiet.  I was a bit concerned that a new bull in a new pasture might try to look for a way out, so the first morning after I'd turned him in with the cows, I looked out in the back field.  No bull.

I got on the quad and made a circle around the 35-acre back field.  Found all the cows, no problem.  No bull.  So I rode the fence-line.  No holes, but still no bull.

I opened the back gate into my neighbor's property and went northwest around the point of the hill nearly to Springville.  No stray bull over there, and not even any tracks in the trail.  I decided there couldn't be any bull in that field because he'd make tracks, or I'd find him hanging along the fences somewhere.  So, back to my field and shut the gate.

Having gone around the western half of the outside fence, I started along the eastern half.  No holes, no broken wires.  Everything seemed secure.  Now I was beginning to wonder if I had Houdini for a bull, and he'd magically gotten out somehow.

Within 100 yards of the house is a big oak tree with several granite rocks of significant size scattered near the base.  I'd glanced in there when I looked the first time, but there weren't any animals, just boulders.  Besides, the cows were all half a pasture away.

As I approached the house, puzzling in my mind trying to figure out where this new bull could have gone ... I rode right up on him.  He was laying under the tree, in the shade, between the boulders which are about his size, resting quietly.

He had literally disappeared from view by being in plain sight.  So nothing would have it, but he must be named Ghost.

This morning, my bride was on her way down the drive on her way to work.  Ghost was standing right at the gate.  When I glanced over, this was the picture I saw.  Sharon going down the road, visible under Ghost.

I wasn't sure why he was standing right at the gate, other than he was simply waiting for me to go to the barn to feed hay.  So I walked a bit closer.  Then I discovered why.

There is a Pyracantha bush growing along the fence (you can see a hint of red berries above his tailhead).  Ghost was slowly and gently swaying side-to-side scratching his rear-end on the berry bushes.  Even Ghosts have itches in their britches.

Yesterday, late morning, I went to the back door to let our three dogs go outside.  As I opened the back door, the large male bobcat we often see in the area, ducked off our patio, and around to the far side of the garage.

This cat is fully large enough to make a very quick meal of either of the two Chihuahuas, and could really cut up the Boxer.  I watched the dogs, who'd gone the other way, and they'd not seen the cat.  I walked outside with them, making sure the bobcat beat a hasty retreat and wasn't waiting on the far end of the garage.

My concern is that often I let the dogs go outside by themselves.  The key is to make some "people" noise, sending the wild critters scurrying to safety away from humans, and before they decide to catch a quick snack.

Yesterday evening, probably around 8:30, I heard a coyote talking between the house and the barn, so they are coming very close to the house.

During the day when I know where they are, I really don't mind them being in view.  But I'd rather they stay a bit further from the house for the safety of my dogs.

Home again, Sycamores STILL Holding Leaves

After a wonderful trip to San Francisco, then Vacaville to visit, Rocklin for dinner, and back to Napa to visit kids, we returned home yesterday.  As we entered the river-bottom area, I started looking at the Sycamore trees.

Almost every leaf is now a brilliant yellow, but amazingly, most are still hanging tightly to the limbs of the tree.  I was quite surprised, as I anticipated the wind we had while we were absent, would have brought down the majority of leaves.  But it sure didn't.  A few more were on the ground than before, but not nearly the carpet of leaves I expected.

Sharon commented how beautiful the trees are dressed in their Fall Finery, and they certainly are that.

The dogs spent the days in the kennel at our vet, and were mighty glad to see us return.  With the fireplace warming the house, and dogs spread out on the couch, things were normal again.

I had a rather embarrassing event while we were gone.  Embarrassing in that it could have been prevented.

I parked the truck in a parking structure across from the hotel, only to learn it would not crank hard enough to start the diesel engine when I went to leave San Francisco.  After a 30-minute wait, and a few unproductive efforts, I was soon on my way again.

A stop at a Kragan auto-parts store in Vacaville, and I learned the terminals were corroded.  I seriously doubted it could be THAT corroded, but maybe.  So bought a terminal brush and a little foaming spray.  After 15 minutes effort, the terminals had been cleaned, sprayed, removed and replaced, and I was a bit chagrined to discover it cranked briskly.  So, now I have to schedule a terminal-cleaning about every 6 months.

The column needs finishing today.  I need to get some pictures to go with the column.

Quieter Hilltop

Grandkids and dogs, escorted by kids and wives, have all hugged and waved as they departed the hilltop.  The silence is nearly deafening.

But as usual, it's always wonderful spending time with family.  The turkey was excellent.  String beans, bacon and onions were good.  Mashed potatoes, using real spuds of course, were tasty.  But the most wonderful ingredient was the love generously spread around the table.

An injury to the visiting dog Maru, caused a Thanksgiving evening trip to the Tulare-Kings Veterinary Emergency Service in Visalia resulted in several stitches in two places on the dog's leg.  Plus, Maru has to suffer for 10 days with the indignity of wearing one of those white plastic "bite collars" to force him to let the wound and stitches heal.  In reality it was simply a matter of taking care of the problem, not anything that serious.  Expensive, but simple.

As is often the case when I have large healthy male offspring visiting the ranch, I am able to obtain physical assistance in fixing things.  This weekend was the installation of a gate, mounted on a railroad tie hinge-post, and another tie on the other end to bump up against.  The only way to get deep enough to effectively hold the gate, and subsequently help hold up the barn, was to break off a small corner of the concrete floor in the manger area, then dig down until we hit granite.  That was the easy part.

One of the realities of living in the Sierra Nevada Foothills, is that the whole place is made of granite, else it would be flat.  So the distance to the granite was at most 4 inches on the west end, and probably 2 inches on the east.  The remaining digging was done with a pinch-bar and a shovel.  Something has to chip away the granite, which fortunately, is a lot easier to dig this time of year than in July.

The pinch-bar was used for a while, then it was decided to try the (expensive) post-hole digger.  I've never like the "knuckle-banger" model, one of those with two wooden handles and a scoop on the bottom.  This allows banging the device in the hole, pushing the handles apart so the scoop pinches soil in the hole, then depositing the result on the ground.  When you open the scoop, the handles go together, thus the "knuckle banging" move.

The one I bought some months ago, at the encouragement of a son, ("Oh, spend the extra $15 Dad, and get a really good one.") has a heavy mechanical scoop on the bottom, with stout fiberglass handles.  But the real key is the weight.  This one allows even digging in solid granite to go reasonably well.  So, a good 22 inch hole was created in the core of the foothills, accompanied by much sweat and effort even on a cool afternoon.  The posts were planted, holes bored, hinges installed, and a gate was hung.

Of course, this morning every joint in my hands is complaining bitterly at the work accomplished because of their efforts.  Ahh, getting older sure isn't for sissies!

Bovine Babysitting, Plus Update on Strawberry

It has always interested me when I see cattle act in a manner similar to humans.  Or should we describe ourselves as the "human animal?"

I am feeding hay in the barn now, even though the grass has sprouted.  With the onset of cold weather it will stay nice and green, but growth will nearly cease.  Not entirely, but almost so.  Thus the cattle need some supplemental feed to maintain body condition and health.

Manners at the bovine table are non-existent.  Pushing, crowding, butting, and even standing in the manger are all tactics for obtaining what an animal determines as their fair share of hay.  When cattle line up at the feeder side by side, there is no room for the calves among the much larger adult animals.

It is not unusual to see a few calves standing behind the cows, safely out of the way from being stepped on.  They would munch on hay as a novelty, but their primary source of nourishment is still milk, and Momma is eating hay to provide that for her calf.

Sometimes calves are even intentionally left outside the barn.  A single calf, one that is fairly young, maybe in the first week, will be left curled up behind a tree or rock, or near a fence-line to wait Mother's return.

But if there are a group of three or four calves, they won't be left alone.  Take, for example, this gathering of calves yesterday morning.

One cow, baby-sitting four calves, including her own.
Her calf is the black-white-faced calf near her left shoulder.

Three of these calves are not hers.  I have no clue how it was decided for her to be the designee in this baby-sitting task, but she is obviously doing something intentionally.  The other cattle are in the barn, munching merrily away on Alfalfa hay.  These four calves are staying safely out of the way, "hanging out" with the other calves, being watched over by this cow.  

The clouds were breaking away, and it was a pretty nice day.
But this cow still missed out on the hay, as she watched over the calves.

Will this cow go to hay this morning, and another be designated baby-sitter?  Who knows?  I'll watch though.

Strawberry, Dandy, and Shiplay (our horses) seem to be getting along reasonably well.  Dandy is not about to allow Strawberry into the barn yet, for that is where "his" hay is fed.  She might get some of what is his, and he couldn't have that!  

It was nearly dark the last time I looked toward the barn last evening, and it appeared, in the gathering dusk, as if Strawberry were actually standing at the door of the barn.  I couldn't see the other two, so assumed they were inside.  But just allowing her to stand in the door without chasing her a safe distance away, is an improvement.  

I expect this defensiveness will dissipate over a few days, and they will get used to being in the same space.

Wonderful Wet Morning, with Stingy Sycamores

Winter has indeed arrived, though it will definitely get colder tonight, Monday, and Tuesday nights.  But no hard freezes ... yet.

Just for the record, I had 1.25 inches of rain in the gauge this morning early.  But it has showered a few times since then, and now looks like closer to 1.30 - 1.35 from a distance.

I turned Strawberry (see blog below) out of the corral this morning into the pasture with Shiplay and her gelding, Dandy.  Shiplay is nearly 20, maybe a year or two more.  Dandy is 8 or so, and has zero manners, and is very protective of anything that he deems his ... like hay.

I've been feeding Strawberry in the corral and the other two inside the barn.  They've been sniffing each other across the fence for a week, and the squealing and cavorting had nearly stopped, so it was time to let them run together.

As could be predicted, they ran around the 3 acre field a few times.  Dandy bit Strawberry on the rear a few times, and Dandy got thumped in the chest an equal number of times when the new girl fought back a little.  Neither the bits nor the kicks were serious, just territorial in nature.

I waited a couple of hours to feed everybody hay to give them a bit of time.  When I went to the barn, Strawberry was very interested and Dandy was determined to keep her completely away from "his" hay.

Finally, I shut the door on the two, let Strawberry go into the corral she's been in, and threw her hay in the feeder, then closed her gate to keep the other two off her back.  This is where we've been for a week, so that should get things settled down long enough for everybody to eat.  I'll go down and let her out of the corral after a while.

Does this description of what's going on sound like 2-year-olds in the playroom?  Or young teens being young teens?

This morning I went out to the trash trailer with kitchen trash, and there behind the horse trailer was the big male bobcat.  He ducked and moved away, but not as you might expect to see a wild animal run away when seen by a human.  He walked very deliberately.  In fact, I tried to dig out my phone and get a picture to share with you, but he had put the trailer between us.  When I moved far enough to see him, he was just ducking around the corner of the house.

The Sycamores are going to hold their leaves until Spring, I've decided.  They are not going to share them with the rest of the world, but keep them to themselves.  Maybe they know it's going to be a very cold winter, and want to hang onto their leafy coat.

I glanced up at them Friday afternoon as I went out, knowing this rain was coming in, and would probably have an appreciable amount of wind.  Though there is still a modicum of green in many leaves, there is also a great deal of yellow as the chlorophyl has re-entered the tree.  So, I assumed when I came home last night around 9:00 p.m. I'd find a carpet of Sycamore leaves along the river bottom portion of Globe Drive.

Exactly as last time, the road was wet and there was not one doggone leaf on the whole road.  Well, maybe one or two, but very few.  Certainly not what I had expected.  I guess the Sycamores are simply being stingy.

Warm Today, but Get the "Woolie's" Out!

Fall is indeed arriving in the San Joaquin Valley late Friday.  The weather forecast says we're going to have a 74 degree high today, with a 40 low.  Then 69 high on Friday, with only a 46 low that night, with the rain coming in during the late evening.

Saturday is supposed to be off-and-on drippy, and only rising to 61 degrees.  Then only a 57 high on Sunday, 53 Monday, 53 Tuesday, 54 Wednesday, and back up to 63 on Thursday.

But there is a distinct possibility of frost on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday mornings, as lows are predicted in the 33 degree range.  So some of the cold pockets should show a little white.  As is common following a cold storm from the Gulf of Alaska, there is cold and dry air behind the storm, thus the sharp cooling.

No, this isn't the local weather forecast, but the changing season is always interesting to me.  Having been raised in the cattle industry, where we lived and died by the weather, it still has a great appeal.

My wife, Sharon, fails to see the positive side of all this.  She absolutely hates these swings in temperature, ie: 74 high today, to 53 high on Monday and Tuesday.  Her arthritis, and sometimes general demeanor, both frequently get grumpy.  Additionally, she often contracts a nasty cold this time of year, blaming the 20-degree swings in temperature.

I got an e-mail the other day from one of my neighbors who is also visited by the local meandering Peacock.  She's even named him Howard, saying she sent a link to this blog to several friends so they could see pictures of the Peacock she talks about.

I've been keeping an eye on our two horses, Shiplay (an older mare) and her gelding son Dandy, and how they interact with the new horse, Strawberry.  I have the new drafter (pix below) in the corral feeding her hay and some grain, and letting them get acquainted over the fence.

All appears to be quiet.  I haven't heard any squealing over the fence for a couple of days, though I was indeed gone all day yesterday.  But, think it is almost time to turn her out and let them be in the same pasture.

That will probably mean a return of the squeals and being a bit territorial.  But, unless I miss my guess, even that will settle down quickly.  So, this afternoon I think it'll be a good time to find out.  Stay tuned!

Two Kinds of Honkers

First thing this morning, I took trash to the trailer.  My attention was caught by a loose "V" of Canada Honkers following the river up toward Springville.  I didn't take time to see where they went, but there have been times when they circled around against the south side of Snailhead, the big hill south of Springville, and then back south along the foothills, nearly going right over the top of the house.  That is always pretty nifty to hear and watch.

There is also a small pond south of the house a quarter mile or so, that the Canada Geese have claimed as theirs.  They congregate around the pond, on the bank and surrounding pasture ground.  I have seen as many as 15 or 20 big Honkers there at times.

But the honker I saw this morning was not gray and black, but very much multi-colored.

We have a Peacock roaming our neighborhood that has survived every predator.  I'm certain the bobcat and coyote would really love to make a meal of this big guy.  But he's outsmarted them.

But instead of the sounds I've heard in Mooney Grove, and locations like that where Peacocks are kept, this one honks.  He sounds more like a car horn, or one of those big-bulbed "ahh-oo-gah" horns than an animal.

One day this summer, before I had seen what he looked like, I heard this funny honking sound. And the sound moved.  I was irrigating and was spending several minutes in the area below the barn, but I couldn't spot what was making that strange noise.  When I did, I was floored.

He visits at least three of the houses around this corner of Globe Drive, and each one puts out feed for him.  So, he's got a great deal going.  All he as to do is go from one to the other.  But he seems to go to one house for a few days, then to the next, never wearing out his welcome.  

When he visits our house on his circle of visitations, we have a pie-pan we put some wild bird seed in for him.  He knows all about that.  

Even though I had a bit of telephoto lens cranked into this shot, I was still within 10 feet or less.

When he first showed up on our lawn, our 3-year-old Boxer, Beau, was incensed that creature should be on our lawn, and proceeded to make a dash to try to catch him and rid the hilltop of unsavory characters. But a rather unconcerned Peacock displayed his escape mechanism.  He simply flew vertically a few feet then over to the roof of the garage.  

He honked derisively at Beau, as I yelled at the dog to let him alone.  Beau still doesn't really like having him around, but he'll behave and let the Peacock eat his grain.

This morning I got another start.  I went to the barn to feed hay to the horses and cattle, only to find the big bird up on top of the stack of hay bales.  Obviously, that's a safe perch, even if he went up to the rafters.  Obviously it offers some protection.  I hope he doesn't mess up the hay too much though.

This afternoon, I heard him honking out in the pasture on the west side of the house.  I went out to fill the empty pan, leaving the back door open.  

Beau put him on the fence, but only half-heartedly.  I yelled at Beau to get back in the house, which he did, and the Peacock hopped down onto the patio again.

I rattled the grain in the pan, then placed it out on the corner of the lawn.  He came right over toward me, with the dogs watching carefully.  But they were being good about it all.

I sat in the patio a few minutes, shot a few pictures, and made the dogs let him eat in peace.  After going inside to write this, I heard him honk down in the pasture to the west again.

It was almost as if he was saying, "Thanks."

The Strawberry Roan

We've had a  new arrival on our hilltop, and she's quite a beauty.  At least in our eyes she sure is.  It's a 10-year-old draft horse mare, a nice evenly-dappled red roan, the color horse folk call a Strawberry Roan.

A VERY young Marty Robbins sang a song about a mean Strawberry Roan horse you might get a kick out of listening to here on YouTube.  Incidentally, it was this very song Marty sang to get on a radio show when he was first breaking into the music world.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L3BkHtlSYR4

Our girl, whose name is actually Strawberry, doesn't look at all like that outlaw horse Marty sings about.  In fact, we think she's pretty nice.  She's also gentle, quiet and friendly.

She doesn't look too big in this picture, but she's very proportional in her size.

However, according to the man I got her from, she CAN, and WILL buck!  In fact, his wife tried to ride her, and this mare got serious about bucking.  As he put it, "As big as she is, that mare really got with it.  So much so that my wife landed on her feet."  In other words, rather than just taking a tumble from getting dislodged from the saddle, the horse threw her into the air, allowing her to get her feet under her before she came down.  

So, it looks like she won't be a riding horse around here.  I don't really want to see if I can come down on my feet.  The alternative hurts too badly.  There are other plans though, and I'm going to explore them.  Like maybe pulling a cart, which may be what she's bred to do anyway.  

There exists the very real possibility she has an instinct about being a "puller" not a "rider" and that's why she works so hard at resisting being ridden.  But I intend to see what I can do about learning.

When you add Sharon into the view, the perspective changes a bit.

Then Sharon stood on the uphill side of the mare ... and now you can see just how tall Strawberry really is.

You have to realize Sharon's feet are probably a good four to five inches higher than the mare's feet, and all you see is Sharon's head. 

We're keeping her in the corral for a few days, allowing she and the other two horses to get acquainted over the fence.  There's already been the requisite squealing and that sort of thing, but everybody seems quiet and not very excited about it all.  I don't expect any real problems.  

After a period of nosing each other across the fence, I'll let her out with the other two, and expect things will be quiet.  Probably a bit more territorial stuff, but shouldn't be very difficult.

Anybody know where I can find a nice little two-wheel cart?  Or a harness set-up for a drafter?

PHS vs MHS - Some Granite Bowl Thoughts

Last night the Porterville Panther Varsity football team defeated the Monache Marauders quite handily.  The Granite Bowl trophy will reside at PHS this next year.

Big deal!  The last time I checked every one of those kids playing football, riding the bench, playing in the band, or sitting in the stands cheering, hails from Porterville and the surrounding area.  Let's just call it Tule River Country.

If the only thing we value is a win, then Porterville defeating Monache last night is a big deal.  Sometimes, though, I think we miss an important point about cross-town rivalries.

Monache came into existence long after I graduated from Porterville High.  I had the privilege of returning to PHS as a teacher for over ten years.  During that time I also served three years as the Athletic Trainer, always under the watchful eye of our team physician, doing most of the taping of feet and ankles, while caring for a variety of other sore and tender body parts.  I got to be right on the field with the teams for three Granite Bowl games.

I was always a bit disconcerted by some of the overly-enthusiastic cheering from one side or the other.  However, that's a part of the game, and I understand it.  And, I also have to own up to the fact that I participated regularly in many rousing Pep Rallies in the Boy's Gym.  Oops, that's the "Red Brick Gym" now. Oh goodness me ... we MUST be PC!

But I digress.  My all-time favorite story about football games between Monache and Porterville occurred the year a most unfortunate event happened during the Porterville/Exeter game.

The game was close.  Exeter was pressing.  It was late in the game and both teams were playing well and playing valiantly.  The score is not important, nor who won.  It was simply a hard-fought game, being played by good kids.

The Exeter quarterback settled under his center to take snap.  A fired-up Panther defensive back was anxious to stop the drive.  He tried to time an excited, driving leap over the line to catch the Exeter quarterback exactly when the ball was snapped and before he could step back.

Whether the quarterback sensed he could draw an offside penalty by delaying his count, or whether the defender simply jumped offside is irrelevant.  In the instant before the ball was snapped the Porterville back flew across the line, knocking the Exeter quarterback unconscious.

The ambulance was immediately summoned.  Full c-spine precautions were taken, and the young man was rushed to the hospital for evaluation.  However, after a full examination the quarterback, none the worse for wear, was released to his parents.  He'd taken a severe blow, for certain.  But youth and good sports equipment, combined with a good night's sleep, soon had him back in good shape.

But there was a great uproar from fans on both sides, and from all over.  Articles appeared in the paper, bordered in black.  Letters to the Editor were published.  There were accusations of all sorts.

I had an opportunity to speak to the father of the quarterback a few days later.  His son told him, "Dad, don't blame him.  He was simply playing as hard as he could.  So were we.  If he'd have been an instant later and the ball would've been in my hands, he'd have been a hero.  He simply beat the snap by an instant, so he's a goat.  You can't blame him for playing hard."

The Granite Bowl was to be played two weeks later.  But with all the uproar and hoopla over the Porterville/Exeter game, school officials feared reprisals or "get-backs."  They took great precautions to prevent any such problems.  Nobody was to be allowed to go between sides at Jameson Stadium.  Even the teams were going to be carefully kept a safe distance from each other, except on the field for the games.

At 4:00 PM the Freshman teams met at Jameson Stadium.  Everyone involved was on edge fearing some untoward event.  PHS was the home team that year, sitting on the west side of the field.  The Porterville Freshmen were delivered to the northwest gate.  MHS players were delivered to the northeast gate.  School officials stationed themselves between the players as they entered Jameson.

The game was played, though who won has faded over the years.  But it was a good clean game, uneventful, and the final gun sounded with nothing unpleasant happening.  The players were hustled back to their respective gates to load on the waiting bus.  But, the busses were late.

So, here stood 60 football players, all Freshmen, probably about 14 years old give or take a year either way, huddled around opposite corners outside the north fence.  Blue and Gold on the east, Orange and Green on the west, but they were all Tule River Country kids.

These kids had been playing baseball, basketball, and other sports on various teams together for years before going to high school.  They were friends.  They'd just played a good game against their friends, and now they were being ushered out separate gates to the non-waiting separate busses.

Within minutes there was great confusion.  The kids, admittedly sometimes smarter than us adults, solved the problem immediately.  They mingled with their friends, shook hands, laughed, talked, and chatted.  And do you know ... there was not one harsh word among those kids?  Not one.

I don't know who won the Varsity game that year.  MHS was pretty powerful then, and PHS often struggled.  So Monache probably gave the Panthers another drubbing.  Regardless, every player was from Tule River Country.

Whether Monache succeeds, or Porterville succeeds, or Granite Hills succeeds, the truth of the matter is simply this: the athletes and students from Tule River Country are succeeding.

As one parent put it, "Porterville is up for the moment.  Monache'll be back."  And they will.  And so will Granite Hills.

And whichever school they attend, they'll bring success, honor and plenty of excitement to Tule River Country!

No Spider Webs Flying, Walking, or Otherwise

And we got 0.75 inches of rain out of that last little bit.   With no warning either.

Oh well, such is life in the country.  Just when you think you can trust a flying spider web, they letcha down!

One other little item I though of the other day, also relates to rain storms.  Look at Black Mountain when a storm is coming and clouds are gathering, and if you can still see the top of the mountain (5,000 feet altitude) don't worry about getting much rain.  On the other hand, if the clouds settle down and cover the peak, down to maybe the 2,500 foot level, ditch the roads.  It's gonna rain.

Evidently, though the local area will not get much rain unless the cloud deck bottom is at or below 5,000 feet.  Above that, I suspect there is insufficient "crowding" against the mountains, and it just goes on to Nevada.

Also, if it gets really low, like on top of the foothills themselves, it's also less likely to rain very much.  It may well get foggy, but probably won't rain much.

Today was a perfect example of foothill rains.  We were getting a little "frizzle" of a rain this afternoon when I headed for town.  By the time I got to Success Lake, I could see bright sunshine past Rocky Hill and it had quit raining.

Often, it can be bone-dry in town, and get a good rain at home, because the hills hold the storms along the base of the mountain range, and squeeze out a little moisture.

Tomorrow is Veteran's Day, and today Porterville buried one of their own.  A very poignant reminder to us all.

I've spent the past two days working hard on some handyman jobs for a lady who has apartments, and have had neither the energy, nor the time, to post to the blog.  And right now, I'm about to fall off my chair.

I also got to do a wedding this afternoon late, so elected to skip Writers Group tonight.  By the time I got home, it was almost time to start the group, I was in Springville and hungry as I hadn't eaten.  Next week.

Floating Spider Webs

Every rancher or farmer has certain things they watch for, which may give them a clue as to what is coming down the pipe, weather-wise.  I have always watched for, and felt were reasonably accurate indicators, the big floating gobs of spider web drifting along in a gentle breeze.

They don't seem to fly when the breeze is anything but a drifting zephyr, however.  The spider evidently spews out a big blob of spider web which gathers into a loose ball.  The spider then spins out a single thread, and I've been told, hangs on the bottom when the big bunch of web catches the wind and is blown away, sort of like hanging on the bottom of a balloon.

Now why they are doing this, I am not too sure.  I've always assumed the creatures were responding to changes in barometric pressures, or more probably a change in the PATTERN of barometric changes.  Because they have interpreted impending weather involving precipitation, they're moving.  To safety?  To a drier spot?  Who knows?  But when one sees several "flying spider webs" floating along on a gentle afternoon breeze, it's a decent bet rain is coming within a day or two, if not sooner.

I spied a couple of flying webs during the early afternoon on Friday, though what I might term as "puny" ones.  They weren't very full or large.  I looked at the weather forecast.  As it didn't show any real indication of serious rain, I passed it off as a goofy confused spider.  Maybe he (or she) was just "practicing" for later.

Until yesterday afternoon, however.

I was in Strathmore during the middle of the day.  At 1:45 I was startled to note the wind was really moving the trees I could see out the door of the Memorial Building.  I headed for the truck at 2:00 p.m. ... in a persistent shower.  Hmmm, maybe those spiders knew what they were doing after all.

Of course, the rain was just a tease, and didn't put enough water in the gauge here at home to be measurable.  Even a small sprinkle at this time of year, while we all wait anxiously for a serious rain of an inch or more, is another few days.  And the grass is moist this morning.

But you can be sure I'll be watching the drifting afternoon air to see if I can spot a big fluffy gob of spider web floating along.

The Sycamore Trees are FINALLY Turning

As I came through the river bottom ground yesterday afternoon, I glanced up at the big Sycamore trees beside the river, and was pleased to see a large amount of yellow in the canopy of leaves.  Nature has finally gotten the word to the Sycamore trees.  And exactly as I predicted, they're all turning at once.  Most of the trees are still flying their yellow flags, with very little green of any sort remaining.

Now all we have to do is wait a few more days to let the last of the "stick-to-it'iveness" of those yellow leaves loosen their grip.  Then the first good windy storm will bring them down en mass.  Then when we drive through the river bottom it won't be one lone leaf in the middle of a wet road.  The blacktop will be covered with leaves.

Speaking of storms ... the weatherman isn't.  But wouldn't you know it, Veteran's Day he's predicting a rain storm.  Fortunately it is currently looking like it won't start until very late in the day, or possibly overnight.

How many times have we started to town for the start of the Veteran's Day Parade, watching the sky to see if it would clear.  Although I know it has rained on the parade a few times, it seems the majority of years we get the parade down Main Street in the dry.  The street may be damp, but no rain is falling.  Usually.  And the Band-a-Rama has only been rained on a few times.  Very few if my memory serves me right.

I was looking at long-range weather forecasts this morning, and though it is not looking like an early, soaking fall, it doesn't look bad.  The green grass on the foothills has been started in many places, and as long as it gets a little moisture periodically, it'll do fine.

When the first really good rain comes into California to deposit an inch or more, the ground will get soaked up then, ensuring the continued life of the grasses.  If these periodic spritzes don't come, it can really stress those tender plants.  But right now it looks really good.

We got a little moisture last weekend, and it looks like a bit more this weekend on Saturday night or Sunday morning.  Next Thursday, or at least Thursday evening, we should get a dab more.  Then it looks dry through the 19th.

Those waves of moisture don't always result in water being dropped to the ground, though there often will be just a bit.  Right now, anything is better than nothing.

And what's with this mid-80's temperatures?  My fireplace nearly ran me out of the house yesterday.  And overnight the fire went out.  That'll give me a chance to take out the ashes though.  And the warm weather is soon to change.  Looks like 86 today, 77 Saturday, 70 Sunday and 66 Monday.  Nighttime temperatures aren't going to get into the mid-30's until the end of next week, and then only temporarily.  Typical fall weather.  Warm in the afternoon, cool at night.  

Volunteer Day in Bakersfield

Our middle son is the Executive Director of the Bakersfield Homeless Center and Women's Alliance.  (a physical and sexual abuse shelter)  The offices for the Alliance are housed in an older building in the downtown area.

A call from my son Tuesday afternoon late, described an electrical problem of sparking and smoking proportions, that was going to require my attention.  So yesterday morning at 8:00 a.m. I was at the back door of the Alliance, ready to chase down the problem.

Of course to accomplish that, I had to feed the horses (in the dark), fill hummingbird feeders on my front porch (all 6 of them - also in the dark), write a script for my Stock Market Report for Central Valley Business Times and send that off to Doug, get a shower and shave then get dressed, and finally, on the way out go by the barn and feed the cattle and horses some hay.  And, by golly I still got to Bakersfield by about 8:05.

After a careful description of the problem, it became apparent that some wonderfully generous folk had volunteered to put new stools, floors, and fixtures in the bathrooms used by clients, as well as replacing the light fixtures.  The well-meaning soul who got tasked with replacing the light got thoroughly confused by the mass of wires in the light pots in the ceiling, and things didn't work.

But I was still baffled by the sparking.  That would indicate a dead-short somewhere and I couldn't find one.  Finally, an application of a multi-meter on wires revealed a hot wire here, a hot wire there, what appeared to be common wires, and then I made a MOST startling discovery.  From common to hot revealed 110v.  But from hot to hot ... a blistering 240v.  Aha!  THAT's what caused the sparking.

Light bulbs burn really brightly at 240v, but only for a few seconds.  And, as it turned out, the new exhaust fan I'd replaced a year or so ago, ran really quickly for a moment before fricasseeing the coils.

Once the new fan motor was installed, the lights were a snap, and by 2:30 I was on my way home, tummy full of a good lunch out with son and staff, and very self-satisfied with my efforts.  And, of course, the Alliance didn't have to call an electrician, for they have good-ol' volunteer Dad.

Funny how, as parents and grandparents, we get the "opportunity" to provide those kinds of services for our families.

But in retrospect, I get great satisfaction out of being able to chase out the problems, making everything work right while keeping things humming along.  Trouble-shooting like that is a real mental challenge, and requires careful, and thoughtful efforts.  So, in truth, I'm grateful for the opportunity to do it.

Back to Reality

Sharon had a day off yesterday, so we stayed around the house, washed clothes, napped, and took some time to get over our big Weekend Wedding in Cambria.  But this morning, it's back to the grind.

I previously defined my father's idea of the "Perfect Grass Year" being: Rain on Halloween, Green Grass on Thanksgiving, Fat Cows on Christmas.  I've been a bit worried about our first rain coming in early October, fully three weeks ahead of Halloween.  Sometimes when a rain comes too early and starts the grass, it can not follow up, and let the grass either dry up entirely, or really stunt it back.

But this year, we kept getting a little rain and the grass stayed wet all month long.  And because the temperatures are still warm enough during the day to encourage growth in the new plants, the cattle are able to go out in the range areas, and nip a little green.  I keep "lunching them along" with a little hay, but they finish that up quickly, then head into the back field for green.

Keep an eye on the southland this week.  The temperatures and humidity are very conducive to serious fire threats, and then add in some Santa Ana Winds, and you have the recipe for late-season fires in the south.  Had to chuckle at one fireman who commented on the Wildland Fire web site, "The difference between baseball season, and fire season?  At least we HAD a baseball season."

One of my means of income is as a Mobile Notary Public.  I get assigned to do Loan Packages, most of the time as a re-fi loan.  Watching the interest rates decline, I had hoped the calls to do Loan Signings would pick up within a month or so.  It has taken nearly 3-4 months for the volume of calls to pick up, but it is finally increasing.

When I took Chapter 4 of Fire on Black Mountain, my Young Reader novel, to my superb critique group two weeks ago, it was suggested that it needed a little more "tension" or "conflict" in this chapter.  There was a lot of description, even a fair amount of dialogue to expand the descriptions, but it was suggested I add in a reason for a 10-year-old reader to keep turning pages to "see what's going to happen."

I spent most of Monday afternoon trying to do that successfully, but am not sure how I did.  I am planning on taking it again, and reading it a second time to get a gauge on the effect of my work.

The critique group is like having 4 seasoned professors, in a post-graduate course on writing.  They have helped me so much, and have allowed me to improve my writing skills, but most importantly my editing skills.

The hard part is not always in getting the words down on paper, or in my case on the computer screen.  The hard part is going back over what you've written and chop, tweak, and edit it effectively.

At times when I am writing, and especially when I'm editing my own work, I "hear" one of the other group members stressing some point, and I am able to make changes based on their suggestions.  And they are just that ... suggestions.

There are times when one of us will use a particular word to describe something.  During the critique a comment is made, "That word just doesn't work for me."  The writer always has the option to take or ignore the suggestion.  I have had the experience of leaving a word in something, then taken it back to the group.  The same person will circle that word again and have the same comment a second time.  Now I really have to look at it carefully.

But, I know far beyond any question, my membership in this group has made a huge difference in my ability to craft words into readable tales.  And I thank them sincerely.

Big Weekend, Interesting Week

Last week was busy, as we got ready for the weekend, which was even was busier.  This next week, though much quieter as far as things to do, promises to be most interesting.

The weekend was occupied by a trip to Cambria for a big family wedding, and the "gathering of the troops" for the event.  Lots of family, lots of kids, and a great time.

The biggest giggle of the wedding day was provided by the 3-year-old flower-boy.  Four boy cousins provided the Flower-boy and Ring-Bearer duties.

He was most intent on his duties.  Reaching into his basket, he'd remove a couple of petals, but instead of dropping them on the ground in front of him as most dainty little girls would do, he'd throw them up and back over his shoulder with the vigor and determination only a little boy could demonstrate.  He had everybody in stitches with his intensity and serious demeanor.

And of course, there had to be other minor glitches.  The aisle was set up with the chairs far enough apart to allow the bride, with Dad on one side and Mom on the other, to easily bring their girl to the alter.  But when the flower baskets were added, they were hung on lawn-hooks pushed into the ground inside the chairs, reducing the aisle width by at least 12 inches on each side.  As the groomsmen and bridesmaids came down the aisle, they were having to weave around the flowers.  When Mom and Dad and the bride same down, Dad had to figure out how to step around the flowers without stepping on the train on the bride's dress.  But, as a problem, it was really minor.  In the big picture, those things are pretty unimportant, but always memorable.

The rain gauge on my fence here at home collected a little rain while we were gone. This morning it shows at least 0.35-0.40 of rain, so the country got a good watering.  That sure helps the grass, which is still trying hard to grow in these warm days.  As long as the grass will grow a little, it helps my hay bill.  I am just "lunching along" the cows right now, giving them enough to help out, but that puts them away to the back field to find a little grass.

The long-range forecast says it is going to be plenty warm (mid-70's) for the next few days, with the first predicted 32 degree night not coming until Nov 14th.

I have been watching a website that has, what appears to be, a bunch of retired (and even some active) firemen who post information on this site.  (www.wildlandfire.com)

During active fires, the information on that site was amazingly current, and was exceptionally accurate in reporting size, fire activity, and potential acreage.  Plus, the timeliness of the postings about a particular fire tend to indicate some postings are coming from smart phones in the hands of firefighters on or near the actual fire.

Now that things are relatively quiet however, the conversation has turned to weather.  One post this morning referred to a NOAA site, which predicts 96-98 in downtown Los Angeles, which could break the 1900 record high for November 4th of 96 degrees.

Of even greater importance is the prediction of inland winds, capable of drying out that country in a big hurry.  Even though the ambient air temperature will not assist with heating the air, the compressing of the downslope winds, known as Gradient Heating, is still going to warm the winds.  Thus the 96-98 high for downtown LA.  One also predicted up to 55 mph gusts on one of the peaks in the So Cal area.

So ... I don't think I'll unpack my "Go-Bags" quite yet.  It's entirely possible to get a call to support a fire in the southland.  (I have contracted my 3/4 ton pickup, with driver - me - with both USFS and CalFire)  Needless to say, I'll be watching the website, and keeping an eye on the weather.

One Of Those Days

I got around in good time this morning so I could leave for Los Angeles promptly at 8:00 a.m. and have adequate time to make an 11:30 appointment.

In reality the trouble started Tuesday afternoon. I went to get the tires on my truck rotated from front to back.  Before the dust settled and the checks cleared, I had new brakes on the front end, the brake rotors had been turned, and there were two brand new tires on the front.

But now I was ready for my trip ... or a least I thought I was.

Up early, horses fed, cattle fed, all my chores done, and I rolled down the drive 5 minutes before 8:00, planning on a quick stop for fuel on the way.  I was very smug as I turned onto Highway 190.  Not only was I thoroughly ready for the trip, but I was also right on time.

As I got up to speed I glanced down to scan the gauges.  The symbol of a battery was shining bright red.  Then it went out .. came on again ... and promptly winked out again.  That was troubling.  All was not as securely ready as I had hoped.

I stopped to fill up my tank.  When I started on the battery light never went out.  I made a quick call and resignedly headed across town to they guys who work on my truck.

Two hours later I was on my way to Los Angeles, with a brand new alternator humming along nicely.  Fortunately, it was all covered by Warranty, and I was only out time, not money.

I called the doctor's office.  They said to come on in whenever I could get there.  They could work me in.

The upshot of the day was that I made a round-trip to Los Angeles with no dangerous problems, no tire blow-outs (which had been a real threat I learned), and the brakes stopped me smoothly.  And I didn't have an electrical problem in the middle of the Ridge Route.

Even the doctor's appointment worked flawlessly.  I only waited 10 minutes before seeing the doctor.

And on top of all that, I got in and out of Los Angeles between drive-time traffic, driving most of the freeway miles at cruising speed.

So, I guess it really WAS one of THOSE days ... a really GOOD day!

Quick Comment & Question

I am thrilled to see the number of viewers coming to this blog.  Thank you all very much.

One feature this web site has, is the ability to see what country the viewers are coming from.  I now have 75 viewers from the US, 8 from Canada, and 1 each from Denmark and Russia.

Feel free to make a comment, either good or bad, about any post.  If you'd like to see more of this, or less of that, or whatever you think, I'd really like to hear.

Quiet Sunday Morning and a Fire in The Fireplace

I had to break down and start a fire in the fireplace this morning.  Though it is really not that cold, it still feels good to have a little warmth coming out.  I'll have to keep plenty of kindling around for we will probably see the fire go nearly out during the day, before rebuilding it at night.

After a raucous night last night, it feels good to take it a little easier this morning.  Well, maybe raucous is a bit harsh, considering it all.  An unexpected, last-minute loan-signing job, a dash home then leave for Eagle Mountain Casino not long after getting back, pick up our tickets to Randy Travis, go to dinner (thank goodness we had reservations), then off to the 8:00 p.m. concert.

The new sit-down restaurant at the casino, The River Room,  did not have one of their better nights. The front desk was turning away walk-up diners, explaining to us they wanted to be sure they could get all of us fed and on our way to the concert in a timely fashion.  Since our reservation was for 6:00 p.m. we thought we had more than plenty of time. Actually, we did, but it was nearly 7:25 before we paid the bill and headed for our seats.

Delivery of food from the kitchen was both slow, and not always as ordered.  Even the General Manager got into the act, bringing out plates and bussing a table or two.  Wait staff was trying hard, but it was a rough night in the kitchen.

The food was excellent, and our steaks were done perfectly. But cold potatoes and not-well-done-enough steaks were sent back by other tables. However, I suspect if you went on a night other than a concert night, it would be fine. We will definitely go back.

Of course, the highlight of the evening was the concert by Randy Travis.  He is a consummate professional and very accomplished. So much of the music he performed is so well known we could all sing along. And most of us did.

His backup band is comprised of 8 men, 3 of which provide vocal backup for him. When he went through introduction of the band, we were struck by the length of time they have worked together.  The newest member of the group has been with him 7 years, the fiddle-player for 32 years.  Sharon and I commented, "You don't keep band members traveling on the road with you for 7 years, much less 32 years, if you're not treating them right."

I noticed the Sycamore leaves in the river bottom are finally beginning to show color, but not in the usual "one here - one there" manner.  Rather the entire tree is slowly changing hue.  Most trees are still basically a dull green, but a few are beginning to look a bit more yellow throughout the canopy.

History Day

Yesterday I had the most marvelous experience at Zalud Park. I was one of 56 presenters in the annual Butterfield Stage History Education Day for 4th Graders of the area.

1,400 or more of active 10-year-olds came, with their teachers, to be led to a different presenter's station every 20 minutes. High School students were utilized as guides or escorts for the classes, taking them around the class's next presentation in various locations all over Zalud Park.

Long lines of students waiting to be served a hearty lunch. But, waiting time in line was only about 15 minutes or less. 

The variety of presentations was diverse and covered many different subjects. Subjects ranged from tanning hides, an Indian TeePee, Corn Husk Dolls, Playing Stringed Instruments (like banjo, zither, etc), branding pieces of wood, cooking in a Dutch Oven over a fire, Indian dances and games, and old tools used by pioneers.  These are only the ones I could see, as I didn't get an opportunity to go around and look myself.

My subject was "Reading Cattle Brands." The basic rules of reading brands are simple, but if you don't know how it can be confusing.  I was raised in the cattle industry so grew up around it, and learned how to tell the difference between a Lazy R or a Hanging S.

I created a PowerPoint (actually it's in Keynote, a Mac application) presentation, which could be used in a classroom if there were a TV to use.  Because I was to be outside, I printed mine out on paper so each "page" could be held up for kids to see. I also took a handful of old brands to show as well.

I needed a helper to hold up the pages while I stood in front of the kids to show the brands, and explain everything.  I went to the folks running the show and asked for someone to come be my assistant for the entire day.  Very quickly Lao, a young man in his second year with the California Conservation Corp (CCC), showed up, "You needed some help?"

Lao standing ready for action.  Some of the kids approaching our station. Pages are all in the box in order, ready for him to hold them up for me.  His Red Hat indicates he is a Crew Leader, and not a Blue Hat, or a "newbie."
Notice the yellow fire truck beside his hat in the background.

Lao was quite impressed with the affair, and commented to me, "Gee. I wish we'd have had something like this in Fresno where I went to school."

It was an excellent day for the students and teachers from both the Porterville Unified schools as well as several of the outlying schools.  When I asked, I was told the Porterville schools provided 800 attendees, and the remainder came from places like Burton, Terra Bella, and Springville.  A teacher and their entire class of 4th Grade students moved between the presenters as a group, staying together during the entire time.

The students were made into four different teams (colors of Red, Blue Green, Orange) and moved to a new location when the fire truck parked in the parking gave a blast on the siren. The high school student knew where they were going next, and would take the class to their next assigned location all over Zalud Park.

We started the first presentation at 9:00 a.m. doing 6 by 11:00 a.m. then broke for lunch for an hour.  The school district had made a really nutritious "goulash" sort of meal of hamburger, corn, macaroni elbows, seasoning etc, and then a serving of Apple Betty, a nice muffin, and milk.  Not gourmet, but very decent, and filling.

At 12:00 p.m. we started up again, doing another 4 presentations in the afternoon.  Everything ran like a well-oiled machine, and literally zero problems.

I had a ball, thoroughly enjoying watching the kids, and presenting to them.  Most were wonderful, and none were a problem.  Some were more attentive than others, but almost all went away knowing a little more than when they arrived 20 minutes earlier.

A real tip of the cap to the folks at PUSD for putting this on for the 13th year.  It was originally started by the Porterville Chamber and was a 2-day affair, general public on Thursday, kids on Friday.  When they dropped it, the schools thought it so valuable an addition to the education of the kids, they have continued it, but only as a 1-day affair and only for 4th Graders.

Spirit's doing well

Spirit, the twin-calf born Friday afternoon and being cared for by our neighbors, is doing exceptionally well.  If we aren't careful, when she comes back to our hilltop to join the rest of the herd, she's going to be more human than animal.

That calf is being absolutely and positively spoiled.  Spoiled rotten in fact.  But right now, that's just fine.  She's alive.  There is no doubt she would not have survived the night had the ladies not intervened.  So go ahead and spoil her a little.

Milk Replacer from a bottle is providing all the nourishment she needs for now.  But a little scoop of Calf Manna will be offered to her right away, as the calf can do very nicely on that.  Add in a little hay for roughage, and "Spirit" will be all set.

I spent the morning working on a presentation I am going to be doing for the area's 4th Grade students at the Butterfield Stage History Education Day at Zalud Park on Friday.  4th Graders study California History this year, so the Butterfield Day started to augment their education, utilizing folks of the area who can provide "Living History" demonstrations and presentations.

My 15 minutes with the kids will be about "Reading Cattle Brands."  When I am finished, they will be able to look at a brand and tell whether it is a "Lazy R" brand, or maybe a "V Hanging S."  By going through the pages of my presentation, I'll involve the kids in "calling" brands.

If there is time left at the end of my 15 minutes, I can always tell a story about Judge Roy Bean, the Hanging Judge, who convicted a cattle thief.

Using a "running iron" the bad guy "fixed" the Bar-S brand to look like his brand, the Forty-Eight.  As soon as the brand healed, it was impossible to tell the new brand from the old.

So how did Judge Bean get the goods on the thief?

Come to Zalud Park Friday morning disguised as a 4th Grader and I'll tell you.  If I have time.

"Spirit" is Thriving

Our neighbors, Bob and Peggy, have been taking wonderful care of the little calf.  At first the front feet would not hold her up as they had not uncurled following the months in the womb.  By massaging and stretching, she is now able to stand on her own, and is doing much better.  Bob is even going to the length of massaging her behind with a warm rag to stimulate her bowel movements, exactly as the cow would do.

Of the greatest importance, however, is the sucking instinct.  Bob said she took about half a bottle of milk being poured into her mouth, let her swallow, and then pour more, before she began sucking his finger.  Now she's taking a rubber nipple on a bottle.  He is getting Milk Replacer down her and she is doing well.  And of course, the more of that Milk Replacer she takes in, the stronger she will get.

And she is indeed a cutie.

Because she refused to quit, she's been named "Spirit"

Her head is down in this picture, not because she wasn't feeling good, but was concentrating on staying upright. 

Though we tried yesterday to get the old cow to accept this baby, it had been too long.  All she could see was this was a strange calf, and not hers.  After the cow butted this calf a couple of times it became obvious this one is going to be a bottle-baby until she can eat Calf Manna on her own.

And, frankly, with the situation as it was, with me in Chico, and only Sharon here, to get help from the neighbors, the calf would have been dead had everybody not stepped in.  Could we have gotten the cow to "take" this calf?  Maybe, if she'd been put in with the cow immediately.  But that just couldn't happen with the limited resources available.  So the calf is alive, and we will have to care for her in the best way we know how.

I had thought possibly this calf was the product of a second conception, maybe a few weeks or even a month later than the first one.  Having seen the calf I've changed my mind.  I'm convinced this was indeed a fraternal twin, conceived at the same time as the other one.  Somehow, this fetus didn't develop as fast, or completely, leaving the front legs not quite "finished."  

Time, Milk Replacer, and Calf Manna will most probably cure what ails this little gal though.

So ... now you know the upshot of all the fal-de-rahl on the twins.  

One Lone Leaf, and Two Strange Twins.

If you've been following the Strange Saga of Sycamore Leaves, you know the trees in the river bottom along the northern end of Globe Drive are not behaving as they should.  Not at all.

When the river gets low, usually in the last couple of weeks of August, I watch for the first sign the Sycamores are getting ready to stop using water so heavily, as they begin to yellow a leaf here and there throughout the canopy above.  This year, even though the leaves got a dusty shade of green, which usually indicates they're about to begin turning yellow, they never did.  In fact, as recently as last Friday morning (the last time I went through there in the daylight) there were no bright yellow spots visible.  None.

I was gone all weekend, so when I returned home last night, having been rained on most of the way south from Chico, I fully expected to see the ground littered with Sycamore leaves brought down by the wind and rain.

From the Upper Globe Bridge, and all across the river bottom, there was no carpet of dry leaves.   But about half way, there was one single, lonesome, great big dry leaf.  Just one.  The roadway was absolutely clean.  Wet, but clean.

Turning the corner and starting up out of the sand-flat, I pass under an Oak tree.  That was an encouraging sign. The Oak had the good sense to shed a goodly number of leaves.  The wind and rain spread them over the roadway.  Now that was what I had expected back in the flat.

But not the Sycamores.  Strange.  What's with these stubborn Sycamores?  Are they simply being difficult?  Nothing like a stubborn Sycamore.

Now that we have received a couple of little showers (though the amount received yesterday only wet the bottom of my rain gauge and isn't measurable) will the Sycamores get in line with the rest of the well-behaved, season-respecting trees?  Will they recognize it is indeed mid-October?  We shall have to see.

I arrived in Chico about 5:30 Friday evening and was busily getting set up for the weekend conference I was there to attend when my bride called.  Now I always enjoy hearing from her, but I was truly busy.  I didn't really have time to engage in being a socially correct husband.

Well, in truth of course, I did.  But I didn't want to TAKE the time.

But, it was one of THOSE calls.  After being married 45 years ... I immediately recognized the signs ...  I'm sharp.  I took the time.

It seems one of our old cows had calved.  Not just one calf, but actually two.  We had twins.  But there was a problem which made it one of THOSE calls.

One calf, a pretty black with white face, was quite healthy.  The other, apparently a real anomaly, appeared to be a preemie.  The only way that can happen, is if the cow is actually bred at two different times, conceiving both times, so that one fetus was full-term, the other not quite.

Obviously there wasn't a whole lot I could do from Chico, so she had to rely on neighbors and friends and figure it all out.  I gave her a couple of suggestions, and and a phone number to call, returning to my business at hand.  I left her to deal with the calving problems.  And of course, she figured it out.

A neighbor is bottle-feeding the preemie, and we are going to try to get the calf onto the cow today.  Not sure whether that will work or not, but we shall see.  Plus, the front legs of this calf are not even uncurled yet, though the neighbor has been working on stretching the tendons.  She has gotten the calf to stand, but only briefly.   Time and warm milk will provide the strength to use them more and more.  And the calf is taking the bottle willingly, so the sucking instinct is intact.

The old cow was licking the other baby this morning, spiffing it up for the day, which is a very good sign that she is "mothering" her offspring.  The trick will be to get her to take BOTH calves.  Not sure whether that can be done or not.

Sharon was very concerned about seeing what she termed a "pack of Coyote" around the house.  She thought they might be a couple of females, each with a couple of big early-season pups.  When I told Sharon they were probably coming around to clean up after-birth she was much relieved.  She thought maybe they were after the calf.  It's not impossible, but that's probably not the case.

It is really good to be home again.  I left here at 7:30 Friday morning, and didn't get home until 7:15 last night, driving 345 miles each way.  Sure encourages one to sleep well, though.

Sycamores, Skunks, and a forgetful Notary

You might think the headline is somehow related.  It's not.  I just wanted to get your attention.

Well, actually it is in a way.

First, the colors of the Sycamore leaves in the river bottom along Upper Globe Drive, range from brilliant green to nearly yellow.  One tree, as you get off the bridge, is at least 100 feet from the river's edge, on relatively dry ground.  The leaves on that tree are far from green, most turning a dry-yellow, and will be falling before too long.  Many others standing at the very edge of the river, with roots extending under the flowing water, thus constantly watered, are still holding their green colors, though most have taken on the dusty hue.  But very few yellow-colored leaves are in among the green.

Sometimes in the fall, when the season is about to turn, the green leaves of all the trees will become interspersed with bright yellow, slowly spreading to the entire tree over a month or so.  But this year, we see nearly zero yellow ... yet.  I'm assure you, that day is coming, but I am at a loss to tell you when.  I suspect the first really cold night may bring on a rush to Fall, and the yellow leaves will show very quickly.

Another skunk was bounding along beside Globe Drive as I came home around 7:30 p.m. last night.  Funny how you won't see (or smell) them all summer, and then in the Fall .. they are all around.  I still get a whiff of skunk every few evenings.

Yesterday turned out to be the busiest day I've had as a notary public in many years.  I can go for two weeks without getting a call to facilitate a loan signing for an escrow company.  And then it seems I've suddenly shown up on someone's radar screen again.  But yesterday was ridiculous.

Without going into boring detail, I had a 9:00 a.m., dash home, print up docs for the 6:00 p.m., grab a bite of lunch, record and edit my audio for our Business News website, post that, pick up everything I needed for the 3:00 p.m. and the 6:00 p.m. and roll.

While I ate lunch, I got a call to see if I could do a small job.  I already had to go to Three Rivers for the 3:00, and since the small job was in the same place, I agreed, printed the docs, and added that one to the mix.

And, bottom line, it all fit ... almost.

As I was driving along on Spruce Avenue on my way toward Highway 198 to go to Three Rivers I had a sudden sinking thought.  I called Stockton and sure enough I had failed to do the one last thing needed to have my Stock Report appear on the web ... post it.  I'd done the recording, and editing.  I had it all ready to go ... and got so busy getting three more appointments sorted out I forgot to simply post the blasted audio to the web.  Sigh.

That seems to happen more as I get older ... but I forget why ...

One more loan signing this morning, some grocery shopping and other errands, and hopefully time to get ready for Writers Group tonight with Chapter 4 of Fire on Black Mountain, my young reader's book.  I'm tempted to say no, and stay home, but I really need to be there and read as well as help with the critique of the other folks' work.  So, am going to give it a go.

Great Weekend, Crazy Week

The wedding rehearsal on Friday and the ceremony on Saturday turned out well.  Nice group.

My phone rang off the hook on Friday and then again on Saturday, so I've ended up with three Loan Signings on Tuesday, and another now on Wednesday.  No complaints though, let me assure you.

I finished the rough draft on the next Daunt to Dillonwood column and should have it ready for turning in by afternoon.  At this moment if is about 200 words longer than it needs to be, so the editing needs to be a chop-and-whack session.

On Friday of this week, I have to make my way to Chico for a meeting, returning on Sunday afternoon.  It is close to a six hour drive each way.

Sunday morning, just before 7:00 a.m., I was heading for Springville.  As I came into the river bottom area I spied a yearling doe walking toward the river for her morning drink.  I slowed as she passed across the road in front of me, and walked into the thickets along the side of the river.

These are the same thickets I mentioned in the column about the potential for flooding.  I was very near this little doe, yet as I got even with her, I couldn't see her.  She moved, and I caught her motion.  But she very accurately stopped with  thick area of leaves between us, and both literally and figuratively disappeared.

Then I spied the fawn doing the same thing she was.  It would move a little, but used leaves as a shield from my line of vision.  Very amazing creatures, with a finely-tuned sense of how to disappear from view.

I also noticed the Sycamore trees in the river bottom have not even begun to turn  yellow yet.  Here we are nearing the middle of October, and all the leaves seem to be holding their green.  I suspect when they do turn, the change will be quite abrupt and sudden.

Did you notice the small group of Buzzards in the trees along the river bottom south of the Barn Theater the other day.  Just like humans, I guess there's always a group that either don't pay attention, or didn't get the message.

Animals on the Hilltop

The wild animals have totally taken over the Gill Hilltop.

My grandkids from Bakersfield are actually pretty wonderful children, rambunctious of course, but we have a great time together.  Of course, the menu for lunch has to include Grampy Burgers.  And that's a tale all its own for another time.

The Wednesday night reading of the book, Fire on Black Mountain, got a very positive thumbs up from the ladies.  As is typical following the critique, the suggestions proved to be most helpful in making the story read better, and be more correct in presentation.

I am told one of the major reasons manuscripts are rejected by publishers, is they are not punctuated nor structured correctly.  Long run-on sentences which should be broken into two or more much shorter sentences, are also a common mistake.  So the value of reading my work to this experienced group, is immeasurable.

The process of re-writing and re-re-re-editing the story, is ongoing and seems continual.  But, Chapter 3 was read this week, and there are only (?) a total of 15 chapters.  So, obviously, another dozen to go.

The ladies of the group have commented on my improving writing skills, which is very gratifying.  I too have noticed a positive difference in the way I build the tale.  But any improvement is a direct result of the learning process of: reading to this group, listening to their suggestions, then practicing what they suggest as I write a new piece.

The key is going to be to get it sold though, so a publisher has to take a liking to the story as well.  Obviously, that is a good 12+ weeks away, which makes the finishing date on the book about mid-February if one assumes we won't meet every week.

Time for Grampy to pay attention to the young'uns.  I have a wedding to officiate on Saturday afternoon, with a rehearsal this afternoon, so the kids will be going down with me.  Mom will pick them up at the rehearsal.  Ah yes, busy times around here.

Wet Evening In The Foothills, But What's Next?

What's with this rain?  Though it feels good as compared to the hot, dry summer around here, I am concerned about it being a bit early.

My father, an old experienced Stockman, used to quip, "The perfect grass year would be to have rain on Halloween, green grass for Thanksgiving, and fat cows on Christmas."

And, this rain, though nice, may be at least three weeks early.  If it continues to rain during the fall months, early is no problem.  But historically, the rains in the fall can be spotty and fickle, if they continue at all.

You may be thinking, "What's the worry?  Three weeks isn't very long."  And in one sense you are very right.  But consider this.  Plant a new lawn, let it get up enough to break the soil and throw out those first leaves, then quit watering it for 3-4 weeks.  Even if the weather is relatively moderate, the new grasses are going to take a beating from being dry.

This fine morning, October 7th, there is about 1.05 inches of rain in my gauge.  I already had 0.25 inches from the weekend, so last night's rain brought at least 0.80, which is plenty enough water to start the green grass sprouting.

There can be both good and bad in the sprouting of the grass though.  The good part is ... the days are still pretty warm.  The grass will grow more quickly than if the days were cool.  The more it grows up before the cold weather, the better chance it has.  When it grows up, it also covers the ground, which tends to help hold the moisture in the soil, extending the time between necessary irrigation by rains.

The bad part is ... the days are still pretty warm.  This dries out the moisture much more quickly, bringing on dry soil conditions sooner, which begins to adversely affect the tender new grasses.

One of the plants vital to our area, the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, is Filaree.  (pro: fill - a - ree').  This is one of the very first plants to sprout, and is very rich in nutrients.  The cattle will actually lick the ground in order to eat this plant as it emerges.

If the Filaree sprouts, and then gets dry, it turns a deep burgundy-red color and lays flat on the ground.  Fortunately, the plant can survive a long time in dry conditions this way, awaiting the next life-giving rain storm.  When the hillsides of the foothills have a dull red color, the Filaree is waiting, flat to the soil.

When the rain does come, the change in the hillsides is startling.  The dull-red hillsides will turn into lush green hills seemingly overnight.  When moisture enters the nearly dry Filaree plant, the red color is replaced by brilliant green, and the ability of the plant to stand tall is renewed.

My dad used to comment of those times following a good soaking rain, "The grass is growing so fast, it's throwing dirt in the air."  And it surely almost appears that way.  The change in the grazing ground can be startlingly abrupt.

Today we have had only the first rain.  It is enough to sprout the Filaree and other grasses.  We will soon see breaks in the soil as the seeds begin unfolding their first leaves, reaching for the sunlight.  Around the rocks on the hillsides, where the rain has run off the edges, the additional moisture will urge greater growth.

The very sun that urges growth, will also hasten drying.  The next rain is surely coming, but the real question is when.  Are we seeing the beginnings of a wonderfully wet winter?  Or are we going to be teased with an early rain, and then nothing, bringing on a long dry spell?

Whatever it is ... it's started.

Will The Tule River Flood This Winter?

As I make my way to and from home along Globe Drive, I enjoy looking in the river bottom to see what I can spot.  Yesterday I noted the rather dense undergrowth below the Sycamores and other trees.  Many of the trees are 12 to 15 inches in diameter, towering high in the air.  But it is not the trees that are the "root" of the problem (pun thoroughly intended).  It is the proliferation of little growth that will start the flooding problem.

Nature has a way of cleaning out the river channel which She calls flooding.  This starts high on the slopes of the Sierra Nevada, usually because a nice warm rain has come in on the heels of a cold storm.  The snow-level is down around 3,500 feet altitude, just above the Upper Powerhouse on Highway 190.  Then what's known as the "Pineapple Express" comes barreling in, straight out of Hawaii, and is both wet and warm.  You know it's going to get sloppy down here when you hear it's raining at 10,000 feet.

This brings all that snow down in a great rush.  It is this combination of events, the cold storm out of Alaska, and the warm rain behind it from Hawaii, that have precipitated many of the more destructive floods in the Tule River Canyon.

When the water level in the river channel begins to rise, smaller plants along the side get uprooted, washing along in the rushing muddy water.  When sufficient little stuff is uprooted, it begins to build up around the trunks of the trees.  When the accumulation of small stuff exceeds the holding ability of the roots of a tree, down it comes.

When one tree comes down, others are sure to follow.  Soon there will be a log-jam of trees exactly like the bunches of little stuff hanging up on the trees.  As the logs accumulate, water builds behind the temporary dam.  But ... the downward flow of water will not be denied.

At some point the collection of trees and rocks holding the log-jam give way to the inexorable pressure of the river at flood stage.  Now a channel-wide floatilla of uprooted trees, tightly packed with small brush and other lighter plants, goes bounding downstream cleaning the channel as it goes.

As effectively as a giant bulldozer, this jam of logs and plants will scour the river bottom, removing all dirt, roots, and plant material from the channel.  When the river recedes, and returns to its quieter form, there are only bare rocks shining in the sunshine once covered by thick, lush brush and plants.

The underbrush and plants under the trees seem to repeatedly flourish and grow, constantly fed by the river, until the flood cycle scrubs the river bottom the next time.  The process of regrowth can take 15 to 20 years or more before the right set of conditions come along to cause a flood.

So, will the Tule flood this year?  If the storm conditions create a high flow of water, the undergrowth and mature trees are there waiting to become a huge floating bulldozer and scour the river channel most of the way to Lake Success.

The Buzzards Are Leaving Us ... No They've LEFT!

Coming out of town yesterday evening, I glanced up at the Eucalyptus trees south of the Barn Theater.  Not only were the tops of the trees populated by buzzards, the air above them was full of circling birds.  The cooling weather, including the rain we had Friday and Saturday, have set in motion a timeless event. Migration.

These birds hang around the area all summer cleaning up carrion as Nature's garbagemen.  But when fall begins to turn, the abandon us and head south, traveling in well-defined routes into Mexico where they will spend the winter.

The buzzard is fully capable of flapping wings and putting themselves into flight.  Their preference however, is to glide on long outstretched wings.  The only way to stay aloft without flapping their wings, is to descend.  They are essentially falling out of the sky in a controlled manner.  If it were not for updrafts, a buzzard in flight would soon either be on the ground, or be forced to flap their wings to regain altitude.

These big black birds are masters at finding and using every available updraft they can find.  Some feature of landscape, something that is warmer than its surroundings, will start a bubble of air upward.  As that air moves up, it will provide vertical lift to gliding birds.  Even though they are descending, relative to the air passing under their wings, the upward bubble is pushing them higher above the landscape.

When the buzzard migrates they gather into large flocks, many times numbering in the hundreds.  They fly around apparently aimlessly until somebody hits an updraft.  When that bird banks into the vertical breeze, others see it and join in.  Pretty soon everybody is circling the column of rising air being lifted into the sky.  When the lift gives out, the bird on top will level off and head for Mexico.  As the rest of the "stack" reach that height and the lift gives out for them, they too fall in line, wings outstretched and unmoving gliding along in a long line.

When the lead bird finds another rising bubble of air, it turns into the lift and another rising stack of birds is soon built.  I have seen as many as four and five "stacks" with birds streaming between the top of one stack, and entering into the bottom of the next stack.

Another interesting form of lift is caused by a breeze blowing against a hillside.  The air runs into the hill, and flows up the slope toward the top.  I have watched buzzards riding these upslope breezes, skimming the edge of the hill, their inside wing nearly touching the ground.  They will fly back and forth across a clear slope, rising on each pass until they climb above the ridge or hill.

But not every buzzard goes south.  Some will tough it out and remain through the winter, for you will see one or two here and there.  When spring returns to the San Joaquin Valley, and the green grass is growing lush and full, start watching the southern sky.  The rest of our flying garbagemen will be back when the weather warms.

For now though, the big trees along Highway 190 in the river bottom ground, the big Sycamores near PDC in particular, as well as those Eucalyptus near the Barn Theater, are a temporary roosting place for buzzards gathering together to begin their annual trek to Mexico.

Added later: I had to be in town late morning, so threw the camera in and was going to go into town past the Barn Theater on Plano, and get some pictures of the buzzards, working around the Eucalyptus trees, and the general area.

As I came along Highway 190 beside Porterville Developmental Center, there was not one buzzard in those trees, or in the park area.

This doesn't look good.  Have they all left?


I scanned the trees east of the Tule River Bridge on Plano.  Still not a buzzard in sight.

Well son of a gun.  They're gone.

I slowed as I approached the trees next to the Barn Theater.  Not one buzzard remained.  There weren't even any birds circling in the air anywhere in sight.

Nature spoke quite loudly to the buzzards, they listened, and they're on their way to Mexico, via Hinkley today.  The season has changed according to the local feathered prognosticators.