Coco and the Coyote

One of our dogs, an aging, overweight Chihuahua named Coco, got quite a scare last Wednesday.

I had gone to the barn and was working on my latest project.  It was nearly time for lunch and I was trying to finish something so I could go eat.

Suddenly Coco was screaming at the top of her lungs, and not barking.  I leaped out the front door of the barn, to find four dogs on the hill next to the driveway.  Wait ... not four dogs ... but Beau, Tinker, and Coco, and a mangy looking coyote.

And the coyote was busily trying to dodge and dive after Coco, with our Boxer Beau hazing the coyote.  I started yelling at the top of my lungs, not knowing what else to do. This apparently had the desired effect on the the coyote, for the animal broke off chasing Coco, and now had to deal with Beau who was now the aggressor.

I called Beau off, and the coyote disappeared over the ridge heading to the back field and safety.

Jumping on the quad, I went to the house to see what I could learn about all the ruckus.  Coco was on the front porch, walking around, and did not show any visible signs of injury.  Tinker, the little tan Chihuahua, was likewise in apparently uninjured shape.

Coco displaying her shaved shoulder and the wound, and Tinker.

When I began looking Coco over, I found a little blood but not nearly what it could have been.  A paper towel and a little wiping and I finally discovered a 3/8 inch wound on top of her back, between her shoulders.  I worked it a little, cleaned it up as best I could, and decided it would only take about one good stitch to close it up nicely.

My first thought was to just clean her up and leave it alone, as it certainly wasn't very serious.  However, my second thought was the lack of cleanliness in the mouth of the coyote.  It was quite obvious one of the canine teeth of the coyote had penetrated her hide, then ripped a 3/8 inch wound, much less than it could have been.

I called the vet, who told me to start for town as soon as I could.  Because the other two (Beau and Tinker) also had need of a trip to the vet for shots, I put everybody in the truck and dashed off to Porterville.

Coco got to stay for the afternoon. The vet said he rinsed and flushed the wound thoroughly, applied some antiseptic, and took the one stitch to close it up.

She is one very luck dog.  The only injury is the one showing.

Several things are disturbing about this.  First, it was 11:30 in the morning, bright sunlight, and not anywhere near what one might consider normal "hunting" time.  Second, the dogs were on the hill between my house and the bridge over the ditch, within 100 ft of the house or less.  Third, the coyote was most probably passing through the pasture below the barn and used the ditch bank as cover.  When Coco saw him coming, she had at least a moment or two to dash for the house, which probably put off the coyote's attack.

Tinker is a very fast dog, and frankly unless the coyote got a jump on her, any hunter would be hard-pressed to catch her.

In chatting with my vet, I was told several pet owners have lost cats to the coyote around the Porterville area.

Bottom line of the tale - Coco stays near the house, and this morning Tinker stayed with her.

Another Day in Paradise

As I went out the door this morning to go check on irrigation, I had no intentions of doing a follow-up on Spirit or anything else for that matter.  But Fate has other plans sometimes.

As I stepped out the door, the big peacock had visited out hilltop, and was inside the dog kennel picking through Spirit's grain for morsels.

Notice he now has a huge, beautiful tail.  One of these days, I'll catch it fanned out.

So, having grabbed a quick shot of Honk, or Howard, depending on what you call him, I headed off to irrigate.  Spirit was laying down under a Pyracantha bush, so figured she might stay there.

Nope, not this girl.  She was not far behind me when I approached the ditch.

Yesterday's posting here showed you a couple of pictures of a momma cow and her new baby.  Momma had been leaving her little girl tucked away on the other side of the horse pasture.  Today was the day she brought her calf around to join everybody else.

She and the baby were laying down in the shade near the ditch.

Baby was not too sure about me being so close, so she got up.

Of course, I had to get a couple of pictures to share with you, and then get my irrigating done.  So Spirit, the dogs and I all proceeded down into the pasture.  Spirit is trying to learn to "socialize" with the other animals, so goes down and gets near.  Sometimes the calves will come closer to her, but this morning everybody sort of held their distance.

Once the irrigating was finished and the horses had been thrown a little hay, I started back to the house, only to find that Spirit had stopped to say "Hello" to the new baby.

If I tried to force these little events to happen, it would never come to be.  It seems I must certainly live a truly blessed life.  I hope you enjoy reading about these little day-by-day occurrences.

Got the Pictures

So, you know the day I complain about having any pictures of Spirit going along with me to irrigate, it works out.  Often she sticks SO close to me it is difficult to get pictures of anything but the top of her head or her back.  But this morning she came down and had a party.

She came close to me several times wanting to be scratched or petted, but also spent some time nosing around the pasture area.

My usual "crew" is Beau (the Boxer) and Tinker-Bell (Tink for short - The Chihuahua).

While I'm half-way down the drive I walk on down to the mailbox to get the morning paper, and of course Spirit wants to go along.  

Notice the tail - straight out.  She is running all the way around me as I walk toward the cattleguard.

Of course, she isn't going to cross the rails of the cattleguard, so she has to wait on the pasture side.

So ... are you coming back on this side or what?

One final check of the water and she "posed" in front of the barn.

Once I had the irrigating done, I walked over to the barn to feed the horses.  Spirit really didn't want to go into the pasture with those great big critters.  I lost track of her for a bit, but she's been out in the pasture and all around the barn before, so she can find her way with ease.

Hay fed, I was walking back to the house, and heard Spirit bawl.  She was on the other side of the horse pasture, across from the house.

Here she comes.  She's walking along the outside of the Horse Pasture fence, toward a cow and calf ahead of her a ways.

She stopped and visited a few moments with Momma and her new baby.

And then it was time to find the gate into the small pasture that has a gate in it that will allow her back into the yard.

But first she had to get a drink of water from the trough.

And then down the fence and through the gate ...

No ... she wanted to play "hard to get" so sauntered down the fence as I waited to get a picture of her coming through the gate.

But after I walked out the gate, scratched her on the back, then walked tantalizingly back through the gate ... she decided it was not such a bad idea after all.

I think Beau wondered if she'd get it figured out too.  

Oh well, Spirit went irrigating, had a big walk all the way around the barn and horse pasture, and got back with no problems.  

Spirit and Irrigation

The advent of spring brings the return to irrigating duties around here.  I have some ground below the ditch that gets flood irrigated all summer, and that requires tending ditches and all that with a hoe or shovel.

I like to go down to the pasture in the mornings before it gets too hot, but right now, it's still pretty cool wading around in wet ground.  I am almost always accompanied by the dogs, Beau and Tinker.  And recently, Spirit has decided she wants to go along with us.

I haven't been able to get any pictures but will try to do so as this is an interesting addition to the Tale of Spirit.

She has gone down at the same time I walk down, and she has wandered down at her leisure, but either way she gets next to me along a ditch.  The other day I was walking toward the barn through the irrigated ground, and she was just prancing along as if she were part of the group.

I'll try to get some pix in the next couple of days.

Today is Column Writing Day around here though, so gotta get busy.

Spirit Doesn't Know She's Not a Dog

Spirit is a welcome addition to the hilltop, even though I have to take a shovel to the front porch and the patio on occasion, .

A few days ago, a friend of mine came up to trim the horses' feet, and brought Breanna, his 5-year-old daughter.  She thought Spirit was really something.

Beau had to get in the act as well.

Spirit spends most of the time here in the yard, but does go out and socialize with the cattle in the pasture around the house.

This yearling Charolais heifer was resting comfortably so Spirit went up to her and began licking her back.  

If she is along the driveway when we go out in the truck, she will run alongside, following us all the way down the driveway then stop at the cattle guard at the bottom of the hill. She simply thinks she's a dog with black and white hair.  She loves to be scratched on the back, or rubbed on her cheeks and under her chin.

She is a chewer though!  I recently left the door to the truck open while I carried groceries into the house.  I came back to find Spirit contentedly chewing on the strap on a small umbrella.  In fact, she had chewed the entire end off it.

Our front door is in the middle of the house, protected by a wide porch the length of the east side.  Spirit has claimed the door mat in front of the front door as her bedroom.  She sleeps with her side against the security door, making a bit of a banging sound when she lays down.

During the day, she has chosen the front flower bed for a resting place.

She doesn't sleep in the dog kennel anymore, but since the bottle holder is in there, she returns there for morning and night bottles.

The red rubber nipple on the bottle is showing her teeth marks so badly, it is leaking like a sieve so will have to replace it before too much longer.

The highlight of this update on Spirit occurred yesterday.  Sharon was not at home, and I had retired down the hall having brought the dogs in from outside.  Suddenly Beau started barking as if someone were coming up the drive.  I couldn't hear a vehicle, and wondered what was going on.

Thinking back, his next bark was almost as if he were startled, and said, "WHAT?"

I hastened to see what he was barking about. I turned the corner from the hallway to the entryway, only to find Spirit inside the house, with her head through the kitchen door into the hall looking for me.

When she saw me she realized she'd better scram, so quickly turned and after one slip on the kitchen linoleum floor, trotted out the back door again.

When I came in with the dogs, I had failed to latch the back security door, so Spirit took the opportunity to come visiting.

After all, the DOGS go in there.  Why shouldn't she?  I suppose that makes sense to a calf/dog.

As you can see, The Saga of Spirit sports quite a few pictures.  Sharon and I are of the opinion that one fine day this might make an interesting (and hopefully salable) children's picture book.  If nothing else, it will make a great record for my grandchildren.

New Family Information

The genealogy of the Gill family has long been an interest of mine, but there have been limitations to what we could find.

My father was Vernon, his Louis, then Levi, and finally Samuel.  And that was about as far as we could go in tracing the family.

My grandmother was known to have done some exploring, but supposedly when she learned that some parts of the family may have been "Scottish Pirates" she dropped it.  She didn't want to dig too far, I suppose, in fear of actually finding out more than she wanted to know.

There were rumors and intimations that John may have been Samuel's father but no proof.  My middle son, Louis, had also done some searching using a variety of methods, including Ancestry.com.  As genealogists often lament, we couldn't get "across the pond" to find out from where the family emigrated.

Until today!

A cousin from down the Fred Gill line (my grandfather was Louis, a brother to Fred - we're all related to Levi), Linda Gill called the other day saying she had read some of the information I had written and published in the Daunt to Dillonwood column in the Recorder.  She was traveling in Ohio, not far from the town of Circleville, where our Great-Grandfather Levi lived, married, then emigrated to California.

She called to get a little more information explaining she was nearby, and might as well go into the community and see what she could learn.  I gave her everything I thought she might like to have in a rush of information.  When we finished, she said she was "...38 miles from Circleville." She later laughed that they had intended to be in Circleville a few hours, and ended up staying two nights.

In her searching information in Circleville, she did confirm that Samuel's father was indeed John, but still couldn't get any link to Scotland, Ireland, or any other place for that matter.  But by confirming John as being in our chain of family, she opened some doors.

In a series of excited calls this morning, Louis finally found the link "across the pond."   But it was not to any place we had expected.  It turns out that John's father was Edmund, and Edmund was born in 1680 in the northern part of the Isle of Man.  That would make him my Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandfather.

So, it turns out that the Gills emanate from a little rock in the middle of the Irish Sea, nearly equidistant from England, Scotland, and Ireland.  IOM, as it is referred to in most of the Genealogy listings, is not governed by any of the three, but is their own entity.



Like the folks on the TV show "Who Do You Think You Are?" this info had to be dug up.  If it were not for Linda going to Circleville, searching out the proof that John Gill was indeed the the father of Samuel, Lou would probably not have found the definitive link to Edmund.  It is fun to finally get enough information to actually be able to track our ancestors back to where they were living when they emigrated to America.

In fact, we found they lived in the Lezayre province, near the town of Sulby roughly five miles inland from the port of Ramsey on the northeast coast.  Digging around on one of the web sites, I also found the John Gill family emigrated through New York on June 28, 1831, having sailed on the ship Meridian.



Apparently my Great-Great-Grandfather Samuel and his wife Isabella had already emigrated and settled in Circleville, Ohio.  When his parents, John and Isabella, and the rest of the family arrived in America, they settled around Warrensville, Ohio.  Today, it is apparently known as Warrensville Heights, and is a suburb of Cleveland, some 170 miles north of Circleville.

A search for Warrensville simply brought up a main road in Cleveland, Warrensville Center Road.  I enlarged that map and poked along up and down that road until I found an area, presumably a suburb name, that was Warrenville Heights.  So apparently when it became a part of the city of Cleveland, the name was changed a bit.

The interesting part of all this is that much has to be assumed, though many different things can be proven. Still, it is exciting to know that the Isle of Man was home to the ancestors, and that the Gill clan is neither Scottish, nor Irish, nor British.  Instead we are Manx, the name given to residents of the island.

And, yes, the Manx cat, the flat-rump, tailless cat, was a breed originated there too.

Snow in Springville

When I got out of bed this morning at 5:30 a.m. and went to the back door for wood for the fire, it was snowing steadily.  Not hard, but steadily.

But the air temperature was 40 on the porch, and the driveway never did allow snow to accumulate. But, as it does once in a while around here, it dusted the hillsides nicely.

In the early morning light, the iPhone camera takes a pretty grainy picture, but you can see the accumulation on the pasture, and the top of the entry light.

A few minutes later, the light was better, but you can see even that fast, some of the snow was melting off the pasture.

 The view the other way down toward the barn reveals even more of the lower ground is melting off quickly, and the driveway is not accumulating any snow at all.  But if you look carefully, the top of each post is holding a little dab of snow.

It is precisely this condition, when followed by a warm "Pineapple Express" storm coming right up out of Hawaii which rains up to 10,000 feet altitude, washing off a good snow pack, that causes major flooding in the Tule River.  And the river bottom ground is definitely ripe for flooding.  With all the little brush, and a solid 20 years of big tree growth, the pieces are all in place.  Whether it happens or not depends entirely on the weather.

Rain, Horses, Trip, and Diesel. This and that.

With the rain yesterday, my gauge shows about 0.60 inches, so a good bit more than the Recorder is reporting fell in Porterville.  But then, that is the way the foothill rains work.  As the clouds and associated moisture approach the barrier of the foothills, and ultimately the entire Sierra Nevada range to the east, they "hang up" on the hills.  And while they are "hanging along the hills" they give up moisture.  The further you go up the canyons in the area, the more you observe the additional moisture.  A friend of mine who lives several miles up Balch Park Drive will often find 25-50% more in his gauge than in mime.

This morning, I had to chuckle at my big gelding, Dandy.  First thing in the morning I feed his mother, Shiplay, a bit of Senior Mix for horses, aiding in both her digestion, and nutrition.  Shiplay came up to the pen when Sharon was leaving for work, and the big drafter Strawberry was there too.  But no Dandy.

Then I realized, he was making all sorts of racket from down at the barn.  When I looked, the barn door had blown shut during the storm, leaving Dandy inside, and Shiplay and Strawberry outside.  And let me tell you, Dandy was NOT a happy camper.

Of course, he's a big baby anyway.  If Shiplay is out of his sight for even a minute, he's upset.  And he doesn't ever suffer in silence.  With great whinnying cries, he lets everyone within a country mile know that Dandy is upset about something.

When I went to the barn to feed hay to the cattle and the horses, I opened the door and let him escape his storm-imposed imprisonment.  You'd think the Governor had issued him a stay of execution.  Out the door he dashed, as if he was heading for a fire.  Then he discovered Shiplay and Strawberry standing passively in front of the barn.  He set up, sliding to a stop, then tried to act as if he knew that all the time.

I throw two flakes of hay for Dandy and Shiplay, who almost always eat their hay together.  I put that in one corner, then put another flake of hay down for Strawberry about thirty feet away near the other side of the barn.  If I don't keep the two locations separated, Dandy will try to control both spots, keeping the hay for himself.  Shiplay on the other hand goes to her corner, head down, and quietly has her breakfast.

Dandy will first go to his two-flake spot, and start eating.  Strawberry peeks in the door, then makes a trotting dash behind Shiplay and Dandy, to get down to her one-flake location.  Some mornings, Dandy will decide it's not worth the effort, and let her eat in peace.

But sometimes, like today, Dandy wants to run between both feeding spots, keeping Strawberry away from either one.  But she's gotten smart.  When he goes to the one-flake location, she strolls to the two-flake spot, and grabs a bite.  When he dashes toward her, she simply circles around and goes to the spot he abandoned to chase her away.

This seems to last for about three or four minutes, and then they all get bored with the game, and peace settles into the barn.

With a crystal-blue sky, not a cloud to be seen anywhere at this hour, it's going to be a beautiful day at least for a little while.  Sounds like things will cloud up and rain again by evening, and that tomorrow is going to be a solidly wet one.  Bring it on!

My monthly dash to Sacramento, attend an Area meeting on Saturday from 10-4, and then dash home again, comes up this weekend.  Sharon and the dogs will keep the hilltop warm, while I slosh up the Valley and back.  I'll leave Springville about 5:00 a.m. and get home around 9:00 p.m. after a dinner stop in Fresno.  But it does make for a long day.

Holy COW!  I came past Eagles Nest yesterday and gaped at the price of diesel!  $3.719 a gallon.  Man, that is just ridiculous.

With the price of Crude Oil futures in the mid-$80 range, where it's been for many weeks, I cannot fathom why distillate prices are so doggone high.  And I don't buy into the concept that all the upset in Egypt has brought this on, either.  If so, why aren't Crude futures shooting up?  That's where the refineries would turn to hedge their purchases.  It has always caused me to shake my head when I hear from friends who live in the eastern half of the US, and they tell me their gas prices are $0.25 to $0.35 per gallon cheaper than right here on top of the pool of oil.  And it's not like the refineries are that far away either.

With fuel costs this high, I have begun to really think about bundling all my "town chores" into one trip, then staying home if at all possible on other days.  That said, today I think I may be forced to get ready and go to town at least two hours before my job starts at 1:30 p.m. so I can run some errands, and pick up groceries, get some copies made and prevent having to go back to town tomorrow.

Spring in the Foothills

This is without a doubt, my favorite time of year.  The hills are green, the weather is bright and sunny, and the temperature is mild, often cool in the morning and shirt-sleeve weather by midday.

Coming up out of the river bottom a week ago I noticed the willows that have stubbornly insisted on growing around the telephone terminal box along Globe Drive, have put out the bright green/yellow blooms.  The long narrow leaves will follow soon, but for now, the stark thin sticks are accented along the tops by the bloom.

The spring season is also a time when ranchers build fences.  The ground is wet and will dig much more easily than any other time of the year.  The weather is not overly hot, so being out in the sun all day is not such a huge job.  And, well, that's just when we've always built fence.

My neighbor and I have a pair of bulls that tend to want to butt heads, and this means fences between us often need repair.  Finally, this winter, we decided one particular stretch needed to come down entirely and be replaced.  So ... that's what happened.

Because we both have other obligations, the project has run out over several weeks to get finished.  But this Saturday is finally "Finish Day" and should wrap it up.

Not a huge length, and the braces at the top of the hill, and also at the bottom , are all in, and the steel posts in between are all driven.  All that is needed now is to pull the six strands of barbed wire tight, then clip them to the steels.  

Fortunately, I have a hillside that the cattle are grazing on now, as my field is to the left of this line, his to the right.

Bottom set of braces, with my transportation parked out of the way.  You can see how pretty it is out here now.

Strawberry and Spirit

Several folks have asked about or newest arrivals on the hilltop, Strawberry the drafter mare, and Spirit the twin calf.  Well, here they both are.

Spirit is on this side of the fence, Dandy with the blaze face, his mother Shiplay hiding behind, and Strawberry up next to Spirit.  

As you can see, all are doing well.  Spirit is still taking a bottle twice a day, but may get cut down to maybe 3/4 bottle or less, as she picks up on Calf Manna, a grower grain ration, and alfalfa hay.

Strawberry on the other hand is enjoying green grass, and daily alfalfa hay down in the barn.

And, though Dandy still likes to lord it over her, she has manages to get past him and into the barn so she can get to the hay.

Spring is Sprung

The old saw about "Spring is sprung, Fall has fell, Summer's here, and it's hotter'n ...." is not true now, for sure, but it is indeed starting to be true.  At least the part about Spring, springing.

The first harbinger of a change that I saw was the rate at which my Hummingbird feeders are being emptied.

Five of the six feeders hanging on my front porch.

During the late summer, we have 75-100 birds coming and going all during the daylight hours, especially during the very early and last-light times.  But during the winter months, I have taken down two feeders, until that slows down, and then removed two more, leaving only a basic two feeders for the mid-winter months.

This year, I cut down to four hanging feeders, but never went lower.  In November and December I would fill them about every third or fourth day.  But in late December, and especially during January, the activity level picked up, at first slowly, but still increasing.

But about mid-January, the feeding frenzy in the early and late hours has become frenetic again.  I am now filling all four feeders every other day, to stay up with them.  I think it is a bit early to put up the final two feeders, but that time is surely not far away.

Morning feeding time.

In this forum, I have talked about things I observed in the surrounding Nature, and reported them to you. This increase in Hummingbird activity was quite expected, but not until now, maybe even another couple of weeks, before we began to see an upswing in activity.

So I am wondering if that 13.30 inches of rain we got a month ago was not only the high point in winter storms, but may have also been the last shot out of the cannon.  We have seen this happen in years before, as the winter rains quit early, but it means for a somewhat shorter grass year, too.  The final flush of growth on our hillsides depend on a good drink of water sometime in late-February and hopefully a little more in March.

But, that time is still a ways off, and we could still get a good rain.  Nothing is drying out around the ranch yet, as every possible niche is either oozing water, or only now beginning to stop leaking.  So the ground is wet, and the grass is feeding on it.

Above the fog level, here in the foothills above Lake Success, the sunshine is delightful.   It is beginning to warm up during the middle of the day now, and that will certainly put the plants into a growth burst.

Speaking of fog ... which nobody likes to drive in ... many folks commented on the "smell" of the fog Wednesday evening.

About 4:30 that afternoon the evening fog came swirling in with a vengeance.  I stepped outside the building on Olive, just west of the PHS, and was startled as I smelled smoke.  Then I realized it wasn't smoke, like from a burning fire, but smelled more like a fireplace.  

I puzzled on that one a bit, wondering why we suddenly had early and thick fog, as it has been a little less aggressive.  Then I realized an old science fact, and it began to make sense.

Fog is nothing but a high level of humidity floating along.  When something solid gets in the way, a small bit of that humidity attaches to the tiny piece of something and becomes a floating water droplet.  The smoke from the Main Street fire during the morning hours threw a large quantity of smoke in the atmosphere.  And smoke is nothing more than a plethora of tiny particles of carbon and other chemical compounds, floating away from the fire.

So when the sun went down, and the air began to cool, the humidity found the smoke, and bingo ... we had a thick, aggressively-formed fog bank.  Granted, we had fog that morning, but it wasn't nearly as thick, and only formed during the late-night hours.

Spring is fencing time in the ranching country, as the ground is wet and much better for digging than during the summer months.  The weather is more comfortable too.  My neighbor, Rusty Hunter, and I are replacing a fence between us, renewing the entire thing.  The only way to fix this one was to tear it all down and start new.  The new posts on the ends are in, and the first wire will soon be strung to define the line where the two or three wood posts in between will be placed.  We'll both be glad to get this one finished, and get the cattle back in that pasture.

Wow, how time flies

A couple of you have dropped me e-mails asking what was going on with me.  To make a long story much shorter, I applied for, interviewed, was hired, and have worked two weeks on a real paying job.  What a marvel that is.

I have returned to teaching, and am working as a part-time teacher (actually more of a tutor) at the Tule River Indian Study Center in Porterville.  I have been assigned six youngsters, five boys and one girl, from 5th Grade to 9th Grade (freshman at PHS).  I work Monday through Thursday, 1:30 to 5:30 p.m. with Friday off.  Those Fridays when I need to leave for the northern part of the state for one of my monthly meetings, I am already off and don't have a conflict.

Since it has been much too long since I posted, it's time to catch you up on what is going on around the hilltop.

Spirit, the black and white twin calf is still doing reasonably well.  She's still on the bottle, and doing quite nicely.  She's started picking up on Calf Manna, and today I added grain and alfalfa hay.  She's growing and really fills up the dog house in the kennel, so may have to make some further arrangements soon.

Strawberry, the big roan drafter, has found her place with Dandy and Shiplay.  Dandy is still a bit of a stinker to her.  He tries to herd her away from hay, or if we offer a carrot.  She simply moves away a bit, until he quits, then immediately returns.

IT RAINED!  Man, did it rain.  Over a period of sixteen days, I got 13.30 inches of rain in my gauge.  On the hill behind us, and north to the south side of Snailhead, the ridge between here and Springville, there are several outcroppings of white stone, some of which was responsible for the digging of a Tungsten mine on the hill behind my home during WWI.

Also present in this area is a deposit of crystal stone, similar to Rose Quartz.  Every spring I have seen in these hills has a smattering of quartz which carries the water.  My theory is that when the mountains shift and slip, stone such as granite simply crumbles and crushes.  But the quartz stones shatter like glass, leaving cracks which carry water.

During the big rain, a much greater amount of water than usual was deposited on the foothills.  As this soaked in, it found quartz paths which do not usually get filled with water.  But this winter every outcropping is oozing water.

One of the small gullies draining some of the country to the east of the house, will only run if the rain is heavy.  Not only did it run, but it ran strong.

During this rainy period, a portion of the hillside behind the house fell away.  Because it was just below the road leading up to the old mine shaft, I assumed I needed to do some ditching on the road or have it wash out during the next good rain.

When I got to the site, I discovered it had nothing to do with run-off from the road, but simply was the hillside being saturated with water.

Of course, all this water falling on the area raised the Tule River up to the point the County Road Department removed the railings and support posts on the Upper Globe Bridge, closing it to traffic.

The Tule River drops quickly but the high-water level is obvious.

Looking upstream from the deck of the bridge, the highest water level deposited a little trash there.

Most of the locals went around the signs, crossed the bridge without the safety measures, and saved time and miles, especially if the trip were to Springville.

The book is coming along, even if slowly, with the support and advice of the Writer's Group.

I will make an effort to get in here and blog a little more often ... let's make that a whole LOT more often.

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?