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!