Christmas Day Picnic, 2011

This is how we celebrate Christmas on the ranch:

Mia, dog of the desert, loves a good hike.
We found a warm, sunny spot on the rocks for our picnic.

The boys were sent out to gather firewood.

I am supervising the operation, right before I take over!

Some of the wood is a bit long...

H-Bomb is a good wood stomper!

Cheers!

Playing on the rocks. Notice the coats are gone; it was a beautiful day!

Picnic time! Cas, Number One, Mia and I.

David, Cas, Number One, enjoying the sun and the champagne!

Time to head out.

Happy Christmas, Everyone!

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.

Christmas Eve Hike

Here is the last picture I have of Jessie. She and Woody accompanied us on our Christmas Eve hike with the boys, along with Mia and Donut. They would have happily joined us in the house for hot chocolate afterwards, but that would have been going a bit far. We took just a short hike on Christmas Eve, because it was cold and the boys wanted to be pulled in the sled. Woody got bored when we stopped and I was trying to keep him away from the boys and their snowball fight (sometimes he likes to butt them with his head), so he decided to pick a fight with me. Not too fun. I called Adam to help me, and we just started hiking again and he was fine.

Jessie was and Woody is a good hiker, and they both love(d) to get out into the desert with us. They were very loyal and dedicated, and would come when I called them. Woody still does, of course.

We do miss little Jess.

R.I.P. Coffee

27 December 2008

A good mom and a sweet, hard-working girl,
but too blood-thirsty and obsessive for the rest of the livestock.
Sorry you made that choice, Coffee.

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.

Lost & Found

Jack

Sweet little Jack is missing. She and her brother, Donut, went missing before Thanksgiving. The other day, H-Bomb started crying about them on the way to school. He was getting mad and said "We need to go to the people's house who has our dogs and take them back!" And when we got to town, instead of eating his little lunch plate before school, he was all depressed and just lay there on the couch because he was so sad.

I made some calls. The nearest towns to the ranch are 35 miles in one direction and 60 miles in the other direction. In the farthest town are two rock climbing shops. We happen to live in a world-class climbing area. Unfortunately. I called one of the shops, told them about our missing dogs, asked them if they'd heard anything about any climbers picking up some new dogs in the creek. ("the creek" is what those climbers call our ranch. our home.) They hadn't heard anything, but were empathetic.

I made some more calls, to more people in both towns. Finally, a call to the Humane Society. They said they had a dog that matched Donut's description, and emailed me a picture. (but said, "he did not respond to that name.") Since we don't have the internet in town, I ran to the visitor center to use their computer for a minute. And there was our Donut, in a foster home, 60 miles from home. Sawed Off saw the picture and said "ON'T" (pronounced like "don't" but without the "d")

They also said they had a black and white dog, that may or may not be Jack, but who had been found earlier than we thought our dogs had gone missing. "But know that she's been adopted already," the Humane Society said. I wondered what this meant...if it was Jack, we couldn't have her back? Because someone found her and took her and then someone else took her and even though she's really our dog??? I didn't want to think about it.

A mixed blessing, but the black and white dog wasn't our Jack. I emailed back some pictures of Jack, and also a picture of Sawed Off hugging Donut.

I made arrangements to pick up Donut the very next day. That meant Number One had to take the boys to school, while I drove 120 miles round trip to pick up the dog.

I got to the Humane Society, and was talking with the lady who runs the shelter. I asked her if the woman who "found" Donut was a climber. The lady said yes, she is a climber. And told me the climber was reluctant to give Donut back. (which explains why he "didn't respond" to his name. Likely story!) This climber had KEPT our dog for a WEEK before she even spoke with the Humane Society. The Humane Society had only known about Donut for THREE DAYS when he'd been missing almost TWO WEEKS! This climber was upset that Donut's rightful owners had showed up to claim him. I understand getting attached to a dog, but Come On. He's Not Your Dog!! The lady who runs the shelter thankfully has a brain in her head. She showed the climber the picture of Sawed Off with Donut, and told her "He's their dog. End of story." The climber argued that the dog had been "so skinny" when she found him. The lady explained that he is a working cattle dog, he's slender and athletic, etc. There was more, but I'm tired of repeating the stupidity.

So anyway. I got Donut back. He was very happy to see me. And then I visited the climbing shops in person. I told them both that a climber had taken one of our dogs. I explained that it's not a "rescue," it is STEALING when you take a dog from their property, no matter how extensive that property may be. Climbers, especially local climbers, ought to know better.

After Donut and I got home, we made the rounds in some of the climber's camps, but it was too early (everyone was still out climbing or whatever) and I didn't get to talk to anyone. I was headed home when I spotted one truck, hidden at the end of a canyon. I talked to that guy, and although he hadn't seen Jack, he is very helpful and is going to take care of some things for us. I won't elaborate on that arrangement, but he feels the same way about climbers these days, and their sense of entitlement and arrogance and lack of common sense.

The whole way home, Donut was on my lap. Snuggling. Sleeping. Occasionally licking my face. Happy. He was excited when we crossed the cattle guards; he knew he was Home. He wagged his tail when the other dogs barked and howled at our return to the ranch. He jumped and pawed at his friend Mia. He climbed on Number One's lap on the couch and licked his face too. He snuggled up to the boys' hugs, more face licks. How anyone could take him and keep him away from his family is beyond me.

Today, I made some more calls, and emailed more people. I have enlisted the help of many more climbers, some of whom I used to know when I lived in town. I am hopeful that Jack might still be found. Honestly, with the tenuous relations between ranchers and climbers, I am still astounded that a "local" climber would STEAL one of the ranch dogs, without thinking to stop at the ranch and inquire. What was she thinking??

Welcome home, Donut!
photo by Jean-Claude Mezieres


We miss you, Jack-Jack. Come home.

The State of the Ranch: Good and Bad

If I sat down and listed every single thing that is currently wrong with our house, I believe I would lose my mind, so I’ll just list a few. To give you an idea. I haven’t blogged in a while, so please bear with me. Or skim through, whatever. There a couple good things in here too. (Trust me, there really are!)

We are still, apparently, waiting on a bid from the contractor to complete our addition. We were prepared to wait, but MONTHS AGO when ABEG said to “Go Ahead” we got excited. For nothing. So now we are somewhat frustrated about the lack of progress.

The new front door the contractor installed during Phase I, but did not finish on the inside, you remember, the one that fell off the hinges a couple days later? Or maybe I was so mad about that one I didn’t even tell you. Anyway, now it doesn’t close unless you lift up on the handle. Hard. And if you want to lock the deadbolt? Forgetaboutit. You have to not only lift up the door but align the deadbolt with the hole, and then the doorknob thingie doesn’t line up. Whee. Also, even if the door is closed, you can kick it open. I tried it the other day when Sawed Off accidentally locked me out. It’s good for relieving aggression, but not so good when you’re thinking about being home by yourself. Deadbolt it is. I’ll have to add it to Number One’s list.

Our siding is not yet completed. We were waiting for the satellite internet dude to make it over here, and he finally did over the weekend. Now we can have someone finish installing the siding and seal it all before the snow flies! I am so glad I pushed to have the old chinking removed and the logs resealed before the siding went on—there was a significant, noticeable reduction in the number of elm beetles in our house!

Also, we currently have only half of our electricity. Meaning, half of the breakers in our breaker box don’t work. Luckily it is the inconsequential half, if you don’t count the bathroom light fixture. The theory is that there is a break in the line, somewhere underground, and we have yet to find it. Some of the wires from the generator may be shorted out underground, which would theoretically explain why we only have partial power. It’s just a theory.

Right now we have no power/lights in our bathroom, no power in the hall outlets (but thankfully at least one light in the hallway), no power/lights in H-Bomb’s room, no power/lights in the playroom, only half power (no lights) in the living room (thank goodness it didn’t affect the television!) I haven’t checked all the outlets, or the lights in the garage, but thankfully none of our appliances (2 fridges + 1 freezer) were affected.

Many of the other buildings are affected as well, the bunkhouse has untold fixtures/outlets that aren’t working; RanchHand and Wifey were running extension cords to their fridge and microwave; there is power out in the barn and some outbuildings. CG’s house seems to be unaffected, but she is on a different underground line from the rest of us.

CG’s brothers were here, trying to fix the electrical line, but they didn’t have the right equipment or couldn’t find the problem or possibly both. Who knows how long this will go on before CG breaks down and hires an electrician?

Her brothers did temporarily fix RanchHand and Wifey’s electricity by rewiring their breakers. When I found out about this, quite by accident, I was upset that the same service was not offered to us. We are running an extension cord from the kitchen (nearest working outlet) to the bathroom for a small lamp on the counter, near the sink—not exactly a kid-friendly setup! I spoke my mind this past weekend, and when I overheard one of the brothers discussing the situation with CG, “it could be another two weeks…” and she said “Oh, that’s FINE” without a second thought, I could not contain myself. I explained our bathroom situation, and asked that our breakers be rewired also. Brother was supposed to come down in the morning to address it.

The next morning, Brother did come down. And when he suggested re-wiring the entire breaker box, so we’d have all our power back, I asked what the risks might be. He said the box could get “hot” or the breakers could trip. I spoke with Number One, and we decided to just live with it. Brother said rewiring wouldn’t be too difficult, and we’d put the wires back in place it when the whole line is fixed, but with us not being here, we just said forget it.

I think I was just upset on principal, anyway. It’s not like we aren’t managing, and by now we’re so used to having things going wrong in our house On A Daily Basis that, a lamp in the bathroom? An extension cord running down the hall? Not a big deal. But the fact that someone else got their power “fixed” and we weren’t even offered or considered for the same deal? That’s enough to make this cowgirl fume.

It doesn't help much that Number One is constantly on the mountain these days, and we miss him. The other day when Sawed Off said, “Wan go moun wit you, Dada” (translation: Want to go to the mountain with you, Dada). Number One was getting choked up. He misses us too. Soon the fall gather will be complete and he will be here with us, and maybe even be able to come to town with us too.

H-Bomb has been playing and loving soccer, he has even kicked the ball a few times in the games. That’s all he needs to get excited! “Mommy! I kicked the ball THREE TIMES tonight!” Number One has only missed one game (he’s been doing a lot of driving to come down for the games: a two- or three-hour drive from the mountain plus almost an hour to town, and back).

H-Bomb is so proud whenever anyone comes to see his games. A couple weeks ago, he had even more spectators: his Grandpa and our famous cartoonist friend from France, Jean-Claude Mezieres. Grandpa drove Jean-Claude down from the airport, and Grandpa stayed the night at the town house. Jean-Claude is staying at the ranch, in our camper, for a month, I will post more about him next. We love Jean-Claude. We are going to visit him in Paris and at his country house. Very soon.

I have been canning pear and apple jams and butters (in my spare time!) and am getting ready to move on to salsa. It is almost time to harvest all the tomatoes—green and all—before the frost comes. I need to get busy. I made just one pear pie (…sniff…) before the pears got too ripe…I wanted to try freezing the pies, but I just didn’t have time.

I also have a list a mile long of things to do in and around the house, which may or may not get done. The leaves have mostly turned on the mountain, making our drive home spectacular. Except for when a deer ran out and struck our van in the side the other day. I’m not even kidding. We need to get the van fixed now too!

Some days H-Bomb says he wants to be a skeleton for Halloween, which would make my job a heck of a lot easier, because that’s what he was last year. I think we’ll turn it into a Pirate Skeleton, just accessorize the skeleton costume to make it more exciting. I think he’ll go for it. Because I sure don’t want to have to throw together a Tyrannosaurus Rex costume (his first request) at the last minute!

Oh, and Woody, the male goat, STINKS. He literally exudes some kind of male goat stench. It makes a person gag. Jessie does not seem to stink at all. It’s hard to tell for sure with Woody clamoring for attention TOO!! Not only do you have to wash your hands after touching him, you also have to change your clothes. It doesn’t exactly help with my laundry situation.

And Coffee, sweet little Coffee, is pregnant. Again. We really need to do something about this. But the puppies will be very good cattle dogs, a Kelpie/Catahoula mix.

Pre-Order YOURS Today!!!

Downsizing.

This is a process that's been going on for a while. I think it all began when we were out of town and CG decided to give away every single one of our puppies. H-Bomb and Sawed Off were devastated that they didn't get to say goodbye. They LOVED those puppies. And I was devastated at the method of "giving away" that was employed: a cardboard box, unattended, in the hot sun with no water, outside a Walmart which resulted in the Humane Society being called. Seriously. That is exactly what happened, and I am not yet over the cruelty and irresponsibility of it all.

And then, Coffee and Jack decided it was really super fun to attack and kill the sheep. One by one. At first, we thought it was just an "accident," cow dogs are too rough for sheep, sheep are more fragile than cows. We found one of our sheep had gotten out of the pen, and figured she had gotten cornered by the dogs. Then we found our lamb, in the pen, dead. Then there was a night of massacre, we lost another sheep and three of the four remaining were limping around and bleeding.

We put all the dogs on lock-down. Shortly thereafter we left for our scheduled vacation. While we were gone, it happened again. Despite our explicit instructions, more than one dog was out of the kennel at the same time. I believe three dogs were out at once, and they packed up and went after the sheep. Again. We lost another one.

We are down to three ewes now, and we are going to sell them. They are just not compatible with our current dog situation, and it is better to get rid of them now than to haul off their corpses later, honestly.

Then there are the goats, Woody and Jessie. I am really torn about this one. Since H-Bomb has started going to Kindergarten, I have felt like I just can't take care of the darn goats by myself. It's just too much. And Wifey is afraid of them, ever since Woody pinned her leg against the fence with his horns (I think he just wanted her to give him some attention) and then knocked her down and out of her shoes as she was running away from him. At least she is able to laugh about it, but she doesn't want to take care of them while I'm gone.

If the goats are staked out during the day, someone has to keep an eye on them so they don't get too tangled up and don't knock over their water. At night, they have to be run over to their little pen near the sheep. In the morning, they have to be run over to wherever it is they are to be staked out. It doesn't sound like a lot, and perhaps it's not, but day in and day out, it does get old and tedious.

I told CG that we needed to get rid of them, but now I'm having second thoughts. Maybe I could do it. I'll try it and see. If I get into the groove of taking H-Bomb to school, get organized, perhaps I could still put the goats in and out. I was really looking forward to trying to make goat cheese.

So anyway, as soon as we find a buyer, we won't have any more sheep. I'm not sure about the goats, and as affectionate as they are, we will miss them if they go. I'll keep you posted.

UPDATE: I asked Wifey if she would help with the goats one or two nights a week, and she said yes. And then later, she said no. So, unless I can find someone on the ranch who is willing to help with the goats...they're going to have to go. =(

Puppies! Want One? Seriously...

We have five male puppies, ready for new homes! They are boxer/kelpie mix, and both of their parents, Coffee and Stanley are excellent cow dogs. Their big sister Jack is an excellent cowdog too, she was born last year. Anyone want one? We really can't keep any of them.

H-Bomb asked if we could name one Stanley and then keep him. :( (We lost Stanley this winter.) He also thinks we should get a new "Joe-Dog" some day.

H-Bomb and I had a good time playing with all the puppies today!

Spring & Sprinklers

Number One is out in the fields, getting the wheel lines ready to start irrigating. H-Bomb didn't want to go help him. Neither did Sawed Off. So they were outside playing.

Then we heard barking out in one of the fields. The hounds, Sonny and Rico, along with CG's dogs Taz and Hank and perhaps even Coffee or Donut (it was too far to tell) were bugging some cows and bulls out there. I yelled at them, but they didn't bat an eye. I ran around and tracked down the four wheeler, then grabbed H-Bomb and Sawed Off and chased the dogs out of the field.

Number One heard the barking from the next field, and the hounds heard his jeep coming, so they hightailed it over to him. I said to the boys, "Do you want to go see what Daddy's doing?" Despite the fact that they had on no shoes and no sweatshirts, they decided they did want to go see Daddy.

And that, my friends, is how I tricked them. I took them out there, showed them all the kinds of fun that Daddy was having replacing every single broken sprinkler head on the wheel line, out in the freshly spring-toothed field, AKA the dirt. I asked them if they wanted to stay. Offered to go back and get them shoes and sweatshirts. They said YES! Coffee came with me on the four wheeler. Sometimes she just has to get away from her five puppies. I can relate. I came back to the house, faster with just me and Coffee on the four wheeler, grabbed shoes and sweatshirts, and went back to the field.

Sawed Off was in Daddy's jeep, handing him sprinkler heads.

H-Bomb was barefoot, walking the wheel line.

I put on sweatshirts and H-Bomb's shoes, then I left.

Well, I couldn't stay, could I?

You can't fix wheel lines wearing sparkly sandals.

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.)

R.I.P. Stanley

An imposing presence, overly affectionate, talented and dedicated cowdog.
We miss you, Stan.
26 January 2008

Dogs in the Night

Sundial At Night

We have a lot of dogs on the ranch right now. I'll do another post about them later, after I take some new photos of the puppies who are practically all grown up by now. Because there are so many dogs, currently we alone have seven, we can't let them all in the house at once. Obviously. Occasionally, we do let one or two dogs in to cuddle and warm up and get trained.

The dogs pretty much have free rein of the ranch most of the time. They get to run around and play and hunt and laze about when Number One isn't out working. Sometimes, they find things, treasures if you will, to either bring home (gross) or roll in (ewwww). I'm undecided as to which is worse: finding some random body part of some random partially-decomposed and chewed up animal, or reaching to pet a dog and almost throwing up because their fur has carries the stench of death. It's a toss up.

Sometimes, a lucky dog or two will be in the right place at the right time, and is allowed into the house. But as soon as they come in, we basically have to smell them. This is where the cute part about H-Bomb comes in.

Recently, there has been some kind of dead thing out on the ranch somewhere, only the dogs know about it. And I do mean, every single one of those dogs knows about it. The stench has been lingering. For a while there was not one dog we could let into the house.

Around Christmas time, we let a dog in, and H-Bomb was the first to go pet him. We asked H-Bomb, "Does he stink?"

H-Bomb replied, "No, he just smells like the night."

Isn't that a beautiful observation? Poetic. I just love it.

Animal {non} Sense

I am constantly surprised by people who don't know a lot or even a little about animals. Especially if they live on a ranch like this one, surrounded by animals.

Wifey just came over to talk to me because she is going up to the mountain today. C.G's little dog has to take some antibiotics, a pill, every morning, and Wifey asked me if I could give her the pill tomorrow. I said, sure. Wifey went on to tell me HOW to give her this pill:

"C.G. says you have to take the little pill, cut it out of the cellophane, and SHOVE IT WAY DOWN HER THROAT, then GRAB HER MOUTH AND NECK..."

I interrupted to say, "yeah, I'll just wrap it in a piece of cheese or something. That's how you give a dog a pill."

She said, "Well, that's how I do it with my dog, but I've just been doing it C.G.'s way, because that's how she told me to do it."

[I can't say that I've ever in my life met someone so, shall we say, obedient...]

I said, "Well, that way is mean and too hard. I'll do it with cheese."

THE END.


Oh, and also, Wifey said that Mia bit her shoe as she was trying to come in the house. I asked if she kicked at Mia, and she said, "I did stick out my foot to keep her out because I know you didn't want her in the house." Well there ya go. Mia's the guard dog.

Oh, AND...Wifey said "those cats of C.G.'s need a huge bowl of food Every Day!" I said, "that's okay, I'll just put out TWO bowls."

I am nothing if not efficient.

R.I.P. Joe

We miss you, buddy.
8 September 2007