My Husband, The Falconer

Number One studied and studied and tested and jumped through hoops for both the state and federal governments, and he got his Apprentice Falconer's License.

But, by the time he got all the licensing stuff back from the state and the feds last year, he didn't really have time to catch a hawk before the season ended, and he was bummed about that.

He made traps during summer and fall last year, and this winter, he started trying to trap a red tail hawk. He bought a small, friendly rat from Pet Smart, and we named her Remy. (after the rat in Ratatouille) She was cute, and even endured an encounter with some "Just For Men" to darken the white spots on her coat and make her more visible to the hawks. After her dye job, she helped lure in and catch a couple hawks. The trap worked! But the hawks were too old for Number One to keep, there are some age requirements that I don't really pay attention to so that's all I can say about that.

Remy

Then Remy had an unfortunate injury. One of the hawks must have gotten her with a talon, right in the ear. She was having trouble walking, but the bleeding stopped and she didn't die. We really thought she would die, but she started drinking and eating again, so then we thought maybe she just had a ruptured eardrum or something that was messing with her balance and making her walk sort of crooked, rather than a serious brain injury.

Number One gave Remy some time off, and she really seemed to improve, then he started taking her out again. In her trap, in the snow one day, she keeled over. Number One went in to town and got a little mouse from the pet store, it was a wild little thing that I didn't like. (I think the pet store just breeds feeder mice, and doesn't handle any of them).

It was getting down to the wire, the trapping season was ending and Number One was calling his falconry sponsor for advice. His sponsor told him that another apprentice had seen some hawks of the appropriate age up north, so Number One took a road trip.

He borrowed a couple traps and some rats from the other apprentice, although he liked his trap better. He put the little wild mouse in one trap, and put it out where the hawks were. At some point, he saw a hawk swoop down toward the trap, but couldn't see what happened. Then he saw the hawk fly off, obviously not trapped, but it looked like he was eating something. That darn wild mouse had escaped from the trap, and the hawk ate it! Feeder mouse, indeed.

Being up in the City, Number One went to Pet Smart and bought a much tamer mouse.

On the last day of the season, after a day and a half straight of throwing out his traps, just as he was about to pack it in, he saw a hawk and decided to try one last time. He used his trap this time with one of the other guys' rats, put it out there, and he caught his hawk!


The hawk really is beautiful. He doesn't have a name yet, but Number One has been having success training him. Now he will jump onto Number One's fist almost every time Number One wants him to! It is amazing. I don't know how long it will be before Number One can actually start training him to fly and return, but I will keep you posted.


Number One made the leg things, called "anklets" and he also made the "jesses", sort of rope-like things that are attached to the anklets, and he borrowed the hood from the other apprentice. The hood helps to keep the bird calm, and Number One is also training him to get into the hood. So much to learn for both of them!

At some point I'll take pictures of Number One's trap, and will definitely keep you posted about the whole process.

Squeals in the Night

Last night we woke up to the strangest sounds. Actually it sounded sort of like a baby giraffe or some other strange animal, squealing. And then there was running around, sounds of hooves and huffing and snorting. Right outside our window.

I had no idea what sort of animal makes those sounds. I did hear one of the dogs running around too, barking. I went to the back door with two flashlights and tried to figure out what the heck was happening out there.

I saw several sets of eyes, moving around. The squeals continued. Some of the eyes bounded away, and I figured out they belonged to mule deer. There was more squealing, and further away was huffing and snorting. I called the dog in the house, and he was panting, out of breath.

One set of eyes was near the ground, I heard the little deer sort of flopping around, not quite able to get up, and squealing. The deer must have gotten trapped in the new corner of fence created when our neighbors moved their garden, joined the fence with the fence on the field and took out the natural pathway from the orchard, where the deer clean up the fallen peaches.

In the distance, I heard the mother deer call softly, similar to a goat's bleating, to her fawn.

I moved away from the door as I saw the mother's eyes coming back. She was still calling to her fawn, and huffing. I'm not sure if the huffs were from running and jumping or just a sort of warning to me and the dogs.

I went back to bed, the squealing stopped, and the dogs settled in for the night on the carpet.

In the morning, there was no dead baby deer behind the house, as I'd feared we would find. It's mother must have gotten it to its feet and guided it out of the yard.

Survival of the, er, Biggest...& a Pretty Bird

not our lizard, this picture is from the DWR

The other day, Number One brought home a small lizard. As you may recall, we have a larger Collared Lizard that we've had for quite some time. The collared lizard is a fun little pet, who now lets ME feed him by hand. No more dangling and jumping dead crickets on fishing line, I just grab a cricket, stick my hand in there, and the lizard eats it. I think he loves me. Honestly, he knows when I am in the room, and lets me know when he's hungry. He occasionally lets me pet him. He doesn't do this for anyone else. He loves me. Although, I'm pretty sure he might like to taste one of my fingers.

So anyway. Number One put the smaller lizard in with our collared lizard. I hoped the collared lizard wouldn't eat the little guy. Of course, collared lizard was hungry so he went after the little lizard, but didn't catch him. I distracted the collared lizard with three or four crickets in a row, and I thought it might be the end of the Natural Selection happening in our dining room.

The next day, I didn't see the little lizard. The Collared Lizard looked suspiciously fat. And seemed guiltily sluggish. I offered him a cricket, and he didn't even blink. I'm quite certain the little lizard was his dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Today, Wifey saw a strange, beautiful bird in one of the trees outside. We looked at it with binoculars, a skill at which I am out of practice, and my glasses didn't help matters. We didn't know what kind of bird it was, but it had a variety of strange calls, including one that sounded like a small child saying "Owww!"

picture from Bird Watcher's Digest.com

Our bird field guide has been misplaced during our temporary stay at the bunkhouse, but I finally found the bird online. A Yellow-Headed Blackbird. If you go to the Bird Watcher's Digest website, you can hear some of the blackbird's calls too.

I need to get a pair of binoculars. And find our bird books!

Ranch Chores

The alternate title for this post: We Do Things Differently Around Here.

As we continue on our winter's adventure on the ranch, I thought I would share a few things that make our daily life somewhat...different.

Nearly every morning, we wake up to no water in our house. Not a drop. We make a pot of coffee using water from a gallon jug we stash every night. Then Number One goes out to the well and turns on the heater to thaw the frozen water pipes and/or jostle the water pressure switch. Anywhere from 10 minutes to an hour after that, we can resume our usual watery activities like flushing the toilet and doing dishes.

Every day, sometimes more than once, I am tasked with feeding the lizard. The lizard has a fancy wooden cage/home that RanchHand and Number One made, complete with a big rock and sunlamp, a large branch for climbing, and his own water dish. This, however, is a wild lizard, and a very particular one. He only eats live food, and his food of choice is grasshoppers. There is a shortage of live grasshoppers in these snowy and frozen parts, and the occasional live cricket we find isn't enough to sustain the lizard. We have a remote-controlled feeding dish that would theoretically make the freeze-dried insects "jump" but it doesn't fit in the lizard's home. So I had to come up with a way to feed the poor creature.

Every day, I loop a strand of nylon thread around the head of a freeze-dried cricket. (the dried grasshoppers needed to be refrigerated--who knew?--and I had to throw them away). I dangle the cricket into the cage, and make it jump, crawl and hop around to attract the lizard's attention. Sometimes I just dangle it in the cage and he comes and grabs it. (Today he ate three in a row this way). Sometimes he's just not interested, and I suspend it so it hangs through the wire screen of the cage, and later I come back to find he's eaten it while I wasn't looking. Thank goodness. Sometimes I worry about that poor guy's eating habits.

Our oven no longer just "turns on." We can't just turn the knob, set the temperature, and start baking. There is something wrong with it (thank god it happened after our Thanksgiving feast!). Now, every time I want to bake something, I turn on the knob, and nothing happens. Number One has to come in with some sort of flame and light the oven burner thingie. I don't know exactly, but sometimes there is banging and cursing involved that seems to help with the process. And then the oven heats up and I can commence with my muffins or what-have-you.

We have been looking at these ovens...but are a bit frightened that prices aren't listed on the website! Perhaps someday I'll have you all help me choose a color...we'll start saving our pennies.

Taking care of Woody and Jessie used to be on our list of daily chores. Sadly, they are no longer on our list. It pains me to throw away banana peels (their favorite), crackers and miscellaneous vegetable scraps. It feels wasteful. As does the brand-new stake they received for Christmas.

It feels like there are more weird daily chores around here. When they come to mind, I'll add them. Until then, I've got to go find Number One so I can make some more muffins.

Sometimes the Natural Order of Things Sucks.

Man what a season. You remember that Coffee had puppies? Or perhaps I haven't even gotten around to telling you...anyway, Coffee had some puppies right before Halloween. We ended up with five or six of them, and had given all but one away. Last Sunday was the last time we saw the fat little guy. We looked for him for days, but couldn't find him. Here are our best guesses:

- He tried to follow Donut (the 10-mile+ adventure dog) and got lost.
- The bald eagle Number One's been seeing around finally caught him alone and out in the open.
- He just wandered off and got lost.

My bet is on number two, but we will never know. The cute little pup is just gone. It's difficult and sad, but these sorts of things happen on ranches sometimes.

Now that Coffee doesn't have any puppies left, she apparently was wont for something to do. And the something she chose to occupy her time was horrible. You may recall that some time ago Coffee turned into a sheep-killer. And convinced some of the other dogs to join her, until we were forced to give the remaining sheep away (or bury them one by one).

Today, Coffee became a goat-killer. The goats, we thought, were safe in the orchard. Somehow, either Coffee got in or poor Jessie got out, or both. Woody came to the front door this morning, freaking out, trying to get our attention. Knocking on the door with his horns and hooves. Jumping up like a dog to peer in the window. Climbing on the grill.

Number One went out to put Woody back in the orchard, where he realized Jessie was missing. He took Woody around the ranch, looking for Jessie. Finally, after an exhaustive search, he found her, dead.

Jessie, top, with Woody

We are very sad and will miss this sweet little goat. Woody is distraught and lonely. He keeps trying to come in the house.

Number One isn't sure what to do about Coffee, who is currently locked in a kennel indefinitely. And I'm not sure what to do about Woody...there is a possibility we could find him a couple goat friends (I saw a sign at the grocery store a while back) or we may give him to the same lady who took our sheep. I'll let you know. You can be sure that no other goat will be as sweet as our little Jessie.

A Canyonful of Balloons

On Monday night, Wifey said some guy was going to park his RV out in the field where Marlboro usually sets up. She said some folks were going to travel down the canyon in a hot air balloon the next morning. I didn't know anything about it.

Tuesday morning, we woke up and I decided we all needed to go out in the field and watch. And wait. The balloon was supposed to float by around 7:30am, so we took some lawn chairs and coffee and dry granola for H-Bomb and Sawed Off out to the field. Then we waited. At around 7:40am, Wifey ran back to get some blankets and waffles.

I don't know how much longer we waited, until we saw this:


And we thought, man, he's flying kind of low. It was cool and all, but sort of anticlimactic, since he didn't crash land in the reservoir or anything.

Until we saw another balloon.

And another.

And they just kept coming.

There were about 8 balloons in all. I didn't get digital pictures of all of them because of course my camera battery died. I was also taking pictures with my 35mm (so you have something to look forward to). At some point I had to run back to the lawn chairs and get more film.


We watched the balloons for a very long time, much longer than I had intended since it was a school day for H-Bomb and no one was even dressed yet.



As we watched the balloons drift by, I also couldn't help but think of Stephanie and Christian Nielson. I don't think I have mentioned them on this blog before, but they have been constantly in my thoughts and in my heart since August, when they became survivors of a small plane crash in which the pilot died. Both Stephanie and Christian suffered severe burns, hers much worse than his, and both remain in critical condition in an Arizona burn unit. You may have heard about their accident, or about Stephanie's lovely blog, the NieNie Dialogues, both of which were covered nationally as well as by The New York Times and the Today Show.

The Nielsons have a family tradition of releasing balloons with hopes attached to them, to celebrate occasions in the lives of themselves and their four young children. Of course I thought of them. How could I not. And all my hopes for them were attached to these balloons that passed right over the ranch. Great Big Hopes, with Great Big Balloons.

If you would like to learn more about Stephanie and Christian's recovery, or contribute to their exponentially growing medical bills, you may read C Jane Enjoy It (written by Stephanie's loving sister, Courtney), where there are several ways to contribute. Fundraising efforts are also in full swing on the Nie Recovery website. Please at the very least keep good thoughts for them in your heart, they are very powerful things.


A couple of the balloons flew right over our heads, down the middle of the canyon. The horses and cows noticed the balloons too. They started running around the fields, confused.

The horses galloped over to us, "Are you guys SEEING this?"

And then they stood quietly and watched the balloons float away.

A balloon team (do you call them teams? a pilot and the crew?) drove in, testing the wind, watching their friends fly by. A couple of the balloons (including the first one) flew very low, over the reservoir. One guy touched down in the reservoir, in the water, and the balloon team suggested he had done a "Splash & Dash." But one of them said it may not have been on purpose. Then the possible splash & dasher touched down in the field, very close to a dead tree, and took off again. We don't know if he was playing around or having problems.

The balloon team decided to try to launch, right from the drive! It was exciting to watch them set up the basket, unpack the balloon, try to inflate it. And then they ultimately decided that it was too windy to launch. They were trying to gently deflate the balloon and set it back down on the tarp, but they asked for more weight. I ran over and tried to help them hold the basket down, control its location, while they were working on getting the balloon set down. It was really cool. A whole new world.

H-Bomb got to learn about what makes the fire (propane, like our heaters) and he and Sawed Off got to watch the whole thing up close.

Back in Michigan, we used to see occasional hot air balloons, but not like this. Not this close. Or this many. When my pictures are developed, I will post more from the set-up at the ranch headquarters entrance, and more of the balloons in flight.

At some point I ran back to the house to get the van, and we drove the van back when I decided we couldn't possibly stay any longer and still make it to school on time. We usually leave around 10:am, but because of all the balloon excitement and running around, I decided I needed a quick shower at 10:am. We still made it to school on time, with stories for H-Bomb to tell.

Who Knew?

Who could have ever guessed--after just a few days, these little goats are the sweetest, friendliest, cuddliest pets. Although I was advocating for the names "Chupa" and "Cabra" (get it? Chupacabra? the mythical Mexican blood-sucking creature? It would have been awesome), H-Bomb decided to name the goats Woody and Jessie (from Toy Story, possibly his all-time favorite movie). Woody is the boy, and Jessie is the girl.

Woody and Jessie are sweet little things. They love to eat carrots, peas, arugula, cauliflower, pretzels and the occasional ginger snap. They are snugly. They like to taste your clothing, sparkly sandals, and any strings hanging off your jeans. They love to be loved. They love being scratched behind the ears and horns, and on the neck. They love H-Bomb and Sawed Off.

They are curious about Baby Kittie and the dogs, and like to try out the boys' swing set.

They don't like to be left alone, calling out to you and trying to follow after you when you leave.

And they definitely don't like it when Mia licks them on the nose.

Livestock Update, Part Two

CG came home with more livestock yesterday. With a plethora of cows, horses, sheeps, dogs, cats, lizards and a salamander in residence, What could it possibly be?


A little pair of breeding goats. H-Bomb claimed the girl as his own, which means Sawed Off gets the boy. Theoretically, these goats will be tame and follow the boys around like dogs. We'll see about that.


For now, this cowgirl is going to learn about Cheese Making. And perhaps Goat Stew. They eat my garden, and the word "perhaps" will go away...

Livestock Update

I've been meaning to write about the additions to our little family for quite a while now.

It all started with a salamander. I don't mean a little salamander. He is about six inches long, and he has been living on my kitchen counter, in one of those huge plastic Costco Ginger Snaps containers, for several months. Number One found him in a screen on a sprinkler line, and amazingly he was still alive. He was young, so he still had gills. Since moving to our kitchen counter, he has lost his gills. He subsists on a steady diet of elm beetles, grasshoppers, worms (his favorite!) and the occasional freeze-dried cricket.

According to the Division of Wildlife website, he is a Tiger Salamander. He has yet to be named. He usually has a nice habitat with rocks and sticks in addition to the water, but Salamander has a tendency to get quite stinky, and every once in a while we need to change the rocks in addition to the water. We just haven't gotten around to getting him some new rocks yet. Don't worry, it's on the list.

A month or two later, we acquired an Eastern Collared Lizard. He had previously been caught in one of our desert corrals, and adopted by Ranch Hand's grandson. The boy took the lizard home to the Big City, put him in the aquarium with his other lizards, and the Collared Lizard ATE all the boy's other (store-bought) lizards. Shame on you, Collared Lizard. So Ranch Hand brought the lizard home to the ranch to an ecstatic H-Bomb.


CG bought the Collared Lizard a "reptile box" which is a glorified plastic shoe box, with holes in it and a lid with a trap door. Some day Collared Lizard will get a bigger home all his own. But for now, he resides in the box, high out of reach of Sawed Off. We asked CG to bring home some live crickets, but she could only find freeze-dried. Collared Lizard will not eat freeze-dried anything. He scooped all the freeze-dried crickets, as well as a piece of bread H-Bomb gave him, into a pile in the middle of his box, as if to say "won't someone take out this garbage?"

Every couple nights, we all go outside and catch live grasshoppers for the spoiled thing. And then we watch him eat them. It is quality entertainment. I don't know what we will do for him when grasshopper season is over.

During our camping trip, H-Bomb wanted to catch another lizard, and after the larger lizard Number One had caught inadvertently escaped his temporary coffee can home, we were determined to catch another one to appease H-Bomb, distraught that his new pet was gone! After much effort, and a Corona or two, we managed to catch a little baby lizard. Who for obvious reasons cannot possibly live with Collared Lizard. So Baby Lizard also has a home of His Own, in a huge plastic Costco Animal Crackers container. (what the world did before huge plastic Costco containers, I will never understand). Baby Lizard eats...what else?...baby grasshoppers. (as you can see, he does not eat ladybugs, or grasshoppers that are too big).


I'm not sure what species Baby Lizard is...and please understand that none of these beasts have been named, I am just capitalizing them because I have nothing better to do.

Branding Time...

It is Spring, and calves are being born all over the place. All the calves need to be branded, and it's easier to do it when they're young (and relatively small). Yesterday, it was a three person operation. I'm not sure how many calves were branded, but there were quite a few. Number One, riding my horse Calamity, roped the calves, then RanchHand and CowGirl branded them, earmarked them, castrated them (if they were steers, of course), gave them a shot of vitamins and a shot of "7-Way," then sent them on their way. (Number One is going to bring me the "7-Way" so I can better explain it later)


Number One is an excellent roper, but he likes working the calves on the ground too. These days, he's the only person on the ranch who knows how to rope, so that's what he ends up doing all day long.



After Number One ropes the calf and drags it over, RH and CG tie up the other legs and do their work. The earmarking is actually cutting the ears in a particular pattern that is assigned to our ranch. In addition to the branding, it makes it harder for cattle rustlers to steal them. I'm not kidding. Sometimes brands can be doctored to look different, but it's harder to do that when the cow's ears have been cut. And there have been cattle rustlers in these parts, more recent than you might think.


The branding irons are kept hot in this firepit thingie (it's too dry and windy to have an open fire in this particular corral out in the desert).


Yesterday was pretty windy. And dusty. But Number One kept at it. If you look closely, you can see that perfect loop in his rope, despite the wind. He is a good, fast roper. RH and CG couldn't stand around if they wanted to!

H-Bomb and Sawed Off were there also, sitting calmly on a cooler the whole time. Then of course after their snacks, they played in the dirt and avoided protective mother cows. Our dogs Coffee, Jack and Donut were there as well, cleaning up the spoils from the castrations. Hey, at least WE didn't eat them.

I took some other pictures with my 35mm camera; I will post them after I get them developed this weekend. Now I have to thoroughly clean both of my cameras!

Aah, Spring!

In reality it's only 44 degrees here, so it sure doesn't feel like Spring at all. I'm cold! I'm wishing I had put my long underwear on today, and I still just might. But things are happening on the ranch that are making me hopeful.

Sometime in the past couple days, little Coffee had a litter of puppies! Five cowdogs in all, the last legacy of dear Stanley. I haven't been able to get in there to take pictures of them, because Coffee is a good mama who's keeping her babies warm and snug in the hay.


There are two that look like Donut, two that look like Jack, and one that looks like Nut, from the last batch of puppies. Here are pictures of those older pups so you can be reminded of the coloring. Of course I will update with pictures of the actual puppies when Coffee lets me get in there. I believe the sun will have to come out before that's going to happen.

Nut, left, and Jack, right

Donut

This morning, Number One was out feeding the horses and sheep, and he noticed that the sheep we call Ma was having a lamb! We gave her some time and space, and the cute little thing came out quick. I took some 35mm pictures that will be better than these, but it was fun to watch the little lambie trying to stand up, then taking his/her first steps (too early to tell). So sweet.



All this makes me hopeful that one day, Spring Will Arrive. And it will bring the sun and some warmer weather too.

(stay tuned for sheep/lamb video. blogger is tempermental at the moment.)

Fresh Snow

We awoke this morning to fresh snow on the ground and sunshine! It was a perfect day for photography, so I left the boys with Number One and headed out. I took more pictures with my "real" camera, but since Costco is so far away and we have no plans to get up there any time soon (March?? April???) you'll have to settle for these digital shots.






The sheep are so cute when their backs are all snow-covered. They don't mind a bit. I took better photos of them with the other camera, but I couldn't resist posting this one. And below, our cat Li'l Bugger, laying in the sun. She has taken to living with the sheep, and it is the sweetest thing you ever saw. She rubs up against them, and they nuzzle her with their little black noses. Bugger's trademark is kind of a jumping rub--she'll be rubbing on you the way cats do and then sort of leap into it while rubbing. She does this with the sheep and the dogs also. Precious. Living out in the long shed the way she does, there's a chance she's starved for attention. At least she has the sheep to keep her warm at night.