How Sweet It Is

It is exactly three weeks ago today that the poodles, Pooker, and I moved to the new house. And today, exactly three weeks later, the other feathers and furs joined us. They moved in like they have been waiting to arrive, waiting to demonstrate their new routines. And they got right to it.

At some point I'll be able to articulate what I am feeling in this moment. For now, I'll use words like relief, contentment, satisfaction, pride, exhaustion, hopeful, encouraged, grateful, humbled, determined, protective, accomplished.

Today, it's mostly about the word gratitude. Heaps and buckets, rivers and pools, an endless supply.

Moving the ranch is not easy. Moving while renovating is not easy. Moving while leaving half your family behind is definitely not easy. Without my friends, well, let's just say I was fortunate enough to not know what that would mean.

I thank you, my friends and family, for your support, your time, your encouragement, your talent, your car, your trailer, your truck, your generosity, your caring, your strength, your humor, your effort, your thoughtfulness, your food, YOU.

I love you all. You all have your own spot in my heart. And while my animals are not sure who some of you are yet, I know they too send you love because they know who and what is important to me, that is for sure.

So, as I sit here worn out from the day's physical activity and emotional experience, I am freshly showered and comfortable on my sofa. The night air is cooling. I can hear the night bugs, I can hear my pups breathing in deep sleep. And I can hear my boys outside my window moving around, Shadow calling up to me on occasion, and I can reassure him quite easily no matter where I am in the house.

This is how sweet it is.

Unraveling

It's a word that has come up quite a bit lately.

First, it was used multiple times while doing exactly that with a little more than acres of electric fence tape. Five individual strands were wound together, criss-crossing around a long pressure treated post to make it easier to store and transport. No one thought about the unwind.

Then it was an emotional meltdown last Sunday. I'm not sure I used the word unravel, but it sure was a great description of my state of mind.

Yesterday, it came up again. This time, it was attempting to start a new roll of toilet tissue. There were pieces flying all over the place, big, little, long strips, tiny specs, and I was digging down two layers before I could get that bugger started.

So, what is it about that word? Is it my life unraveling before my eyes? Is it unraveling the binds of the past few years, strung so tightly while desperately holding us all together, waiting for our own space to appear? Is there a mystery somewhere deep down inside that with some crafty soul unraveling, I'll become much wiser?

Or is it as my friend, Mark, said to me while I was grunting and snorting and rejecting any pause in progress of unraveling that danged electric tape: "With a little bit of patience, we can get this done."

Well, such a simple statement for such a huge undertaking. But what about that? What about recognizing that as this new chapter page turns, awaiting the words to be written, patience will lay it out nicely, line by line, at the pace of a relaxed Sunday reader. It's my story. I'm the author. With what word will I choose to begin?

We got that post unraveled. And now with that tape I am creating a new space for my family.

Patience. Who knew!

Unraveling

It's a word that has come up quite a bit lately.

First, it was used multiple times while doing exactly that with a little more than acres of electric fence tape. Five individual strands were wound together, criss-crossing around a long pressure treated post to make it easier to store and transport. No one thought about the unwind.

Then it was an emotional meltdown last Sunday. I'm not sure I used the word unravel, but it sure was a great description of my state of mind.

Yesterday, it came up again. This time, it was attempting to start a new roll of toilet tissue. There were pieces flying all over the place, big, little, long strips, tiny specs, and I was digging down two layers before I could get that bugger started.

So, what is it about that word? Is it my life unraveling before my eyes? Is it unraveling the binds of the past few years, strung so tightly while desperately holding us all together, waiting for our own space to appear? Is there a mystery somewhere deep down inside that with some crafty soul unraveling, I'll become much wiser?

Or is it as my friend, Mark, said to me while I was grunting and snorting and rejecting any pause in progress of unraveling that danged electric tape: "With a little bit of patience, we can get this done."

Well, such a simple statement for such a huge undertaking. But what about that? What about recognizing that as this new chapter page turns, awaiting the words to be written, patience will lay it out nicely, line by line, at the pace of a relaxed Sunday reader. It's my story. I'm the author. How will I choose to start this?

We got that post unraveled. And now with that tape I am creating a new space for my family.

Patience. Who knew!

Context Is Everything

What a funny!  I have been laughing over and over this morning about a Spanish language mix-up.  Actually, it could have happened in either English or Spanish if you think about it.

As some of you know, I have been working quite diligently to plan a successful week of campaigning for my boss, Aelea Christofferson, who is running for a seat in the US House of Representatives.  She is traveling across part of I-84 here in Oregon, making a stop in about six cities by Friday.  My job has been to make contacts in each city, set up interviews with the local media, radio and newspaper, arrange meetings with the mayors, influential community groups and individuals, unions, as well as an Indian tribe and to find someone to host an open house or reception which is open to the public for a meet and greet.  All of this is to set the stage for her return visits and also to inspire people to get out and vote in the Primary Election and certainly in the General Election.

One of the radio interviews I had scheduled for this morning was with La Ley, the Hispanic radio station in Hermiston.  Yesterday, I spoke with the CEO of the station, in Spanish, to introduce Aelea and arrange this interview.

This morning, I was out with the animals, pulling carts and rushing around to get my chores done before heading to an early dentist appointment.  My phone rang.

It was Martín, one of the political news reporters from La Ley who would be joining the interview and who wanted to ask a few questions to fill himself in on the campaign.  There I was, pulling a cart full of hay and being pressed for time, continuing to fill feed buckets and bags, redirecting two bad boy goats who wanted to cut me off so they could stop the cart and eat, meanwhile keeping an eye on Pinkie who was attempting to break into the dry lot to nip at the roaming horses, all the while holding the phone with one gloved hand attempting to refocus my thoughts on the campaign to keep up with the conversation, in Spanish, in a very winded breath.

Me preguntó Martín:  "Está corriendo?"
Yo le contesté:  "No, no, estoy afuera con mis animales."

Pausa.

Question mark lingering in the air.

Oh how I laughed!  I shall add this to my list of language learning humor along with:

"Why do they keep saying thank you good bye?" and "Oh!  You mean tresmedialunas is actually the number of media lunas I can order and not the name of a very big breakfast?"

I love language.  I love how forgiving we can be when speaking with someone in another language.  I love that laughter is universal.

Translation:
Martin asked me, "Are you running?"
I said, "No, no, I'm outside with my animals."

Happy Anniversary to Me!

These past few days I have been quietly celebrating a milestone in my journey.  I have also been reflecting on the past year and sending much gratitude out to the universe and in toward myself for this occasion.

On October 31 of 2012, I moved out.

With very little money to spare, a ranch full of animals and my capable self, I took up a ranch of my own.  Incredibly generous friends and one of my sisters helped me move each and every one of us.  A friend came over to help me make a dent in the unpacking.

New routines were established, for all of us.  New paths browsed and grazed.  New dirt mounds discovered to bathe in.

It was a lot of work to set up this place before I could move.  Perimeter fencing and gates were put up, the house for the homing pigeons would make a perfect hen house after a new roof and door were installed, a goat shelter was built, a dog door installed.  It was very tight on the budget to get this work done but I had a goal in sight.

The challenges aside, I sit here celebrating myself.  It's a 7 day a week job, I'm on call 24 hours a day.  Vet visits, colic incidents, injuries, fecal analysis, daily chores, hay deliveries, water management, it all gets done.  My animals are healthy and happy. And then there's my day job and teaching and my spiritual work.

Some days it can feel like a circus.  When there is a day that nothing out of the ordinary happens, I celebrate that too!  There are some days when I wish I could hand someone else a list of things to do.  It's a momentary thought.

I work hard.  I'm always thinking and anticipating.  I make great efforts to stay healthy in body, mind and spirit.  And sometimes I worry.

So, with this new moon energy tonight, I set the following intention:  That I lovingly release all fears and worries and that I am always capable and comfortable in taking care of myself and my sacred charges.

Happy Anniversary to me.

Why Respite Ranch?

When the wind blows in Central Oregon, it's time to redirect and retreat indoors.  Rain? Snow? Cold? No problem.  Wind?  I run for cover!

It is very windy today.  The kind of wind that just knocks the wind out of you to make its own force even more hearty.  I thought spending a few hours indoors would be a good time to start on those taxes.  Then I realized it had been a while since I had posted a blog.  Naturally, the priority won out.

The animals and I are in our sixth month here at Respite Ranch.  Everyone has done a beautiful job adjusting to the new surroundings and rhythm.  They are thriving under the blue skies.  It is a lot of work taking care of everyone.  I am still making my own adjustments for what works best for them and being mindful of space and time for me.  They come first.  As any of you with children can appreciate, my business drops when one of them needs something.

Restating the fact, ranch life can be hard, painful--outer body and inner soul--and sometimes cruel.  Yet for any moment of discomfort, there are hours of comfort.

I invite anyone who could use a shift in perspective, a little personal space, a spot of encouragement to find their clouded truth, to come to Respite Ranch and just be.  We are surrounded by trees, countless birds overly generous with their songs, mountain views, fresh air and love.  Lots of love.

If hugging or grooming a horse is not within your comfort zone, just sitting and watching them and absorbing their therapeutic energy is vibe altering.  Of course, I would encourage you to redefine your comfort zone.  They are incredible healers.  Intuitive, giving, grounding, kind, compassionate, and knowing.  Looking into the eyes a horse is like finding the portal to your deepest self.  There is only truth.  There is only love. 

Do you enjoy eggs?  It is an honor to crack a pearl from one of my girls and enjoy the rich flavor of the bright orange yolk, the way an egg is supposed to taste.  Those not accustomed to farm fresh eggs might think the egg is a funny color.  It's the happiness and health of my beautifully feathered hens being shared with you.

They like to follow me around the ranch and they talk as we go along, commenting on what bug they just snatched from a blade of grass or encouraging me to give them a little snack from the house.  They are big fans of yogurt, tuna, rice and all kinds of fruits and vegetables.  We contribute very little trash to the landfill.

While Shadow and Pippin can get rather randy this time of year, observing their antics and their affections melts away any ice walls that serve no positive purpose.  They nap together, sometimes curled into each other.  They call to me in very sweet voices, "ma'aaa" and I cannot resist.  Shadow is so affectionate, it's hard to fathom.  When he curls up at my feet, I'll sit on the ground beside him and he wiggles a bit to get himself touching me or he finds a way to rest his horned head against my body.  And with such tenderness and knowing that he is safe, my angel falls asleep.

He will stand for as long as I will to be groomed.  He likes to extend his front legs, one at a time, and I gently pull on them, move them around, massage his shoulder and his joints and he is genuinely grateful.  Shadow is my protector.  If he hears my voice change as I scold Pippin for his bad boy advances, Shadow will leave his hay in his house and come running to me, literally.  If Pippin is challenging me, Shadow will knock him clear of me.  Then he comes to my side to be sure I'm okay and I thank him and kiss him and he walks away with pride knowing his momma is safe.  Honestly, is there any greater privilege?

Pippin is a handful.

I pray he never stops loving peanuts because that is how I get everything done with him, including brushing his hind legs that look like tattered wool blankets.  Pippin wants nothing to do with a brush so while he is shedding, he has big clumps of wool hanging off of him.  So, I feed him peanuts with one hand while brushing him with the other.  He is smart enough and understands that I get something too.  The poor baby does take his share of bumps and bruises by the head of Shadow.  There is a good 25 pounds difference between them and Shadow does have all the power.  So, when he gets an undeserved pummeling, he comes to me for comfort.  The other day, he managed, as goats do, to get a hook of a cord stuck in his mouth.  Thankfully, I was able to keep him from pulling and Shadow from head butting long enough that I could figure out which way the hook was facing and get it out of his little mouth.  He cried.  I kicked into crisis management mode.  So now we are just watching the little swelling he has on his cheek to be sure it doesn't get worse but only gets better.

They are humorous.  They are fun to watch running around in circles chasing each other or the dogs.  They are clever and you can be impressed by just what they'll figure out.

No ranch stay is complete without the loving companionship of Bodie and Pinkie.  Once you get past their individual manners of greeting you, they are perfect hosts.  You will not be left alone, no need for affection will go unmet, your desire for tactile stimulation will be more than satisfied, and your heart will smile and laugh.  Their love is sincere and endless.  

As wide as you can open your heart, they will fill the space with their loyalty and acceptance of you.  And when they fall asleep on your lap or at your feet and start to twitch, snore or talk in their doggie dreams, it is impossible to hold onto anything that doesn't make room for your greatest good.

Pooker,   the matriarch of Respite Ranch acknowledges you every time you come in.  She is partial to the Y chromosome, so if your gender is not such, she doesn't intend to offend, it's just the way she is.  She is 18 years old and she deserves every treat, kiss, bath, scratch she gets.

The Respite Suite has calming energy for a visitor.  I had the very comfortable queen bed made many years ago.  It puts you on the pedestal you deserve with its pillow top mattress, extra pillows and light down comforter that is cozy in winter or summer.  The windows are adorned in green, from the natural landscape outside.  The lamps are soft, the iPod loaded, a candle and incense ready for a flame, a few books of interest are on the table for when a line of written inspiration can round out your day on the ranch.

I enjoy my space.  I enjoy looking out onto my animals and hearing my hens cluck up a storm when they've left one of their pearls for me to find.  I enjoy how the physical work keeps my body strong and allows these magnificent beings to exist in harmony and respect of each other, knowing they will be cared for and provided for, nurtured and appreciated.

I think about my previous homes in city landscapes.  What different lives I've led.  I'm going to stick with this one for a while longer.  More lessons have been learned in the past 5 years than in the previous 40.  What a gift.  I am very happy to live this gift and share this gift, and I am not ready to tuck it away in the closet to be cherished as just another memory.

Maybe They Aren't All Supposed to Go With You

Those were some harsh words to hear when Eileen Lock, a clairvoyant astrologer, said them to me during a reading.  "Such nonsense!" I replied.

We were talking about my then impending move to a new home.  I was thinking through the move of all of my animals, including my feral cats.

During the week of my move, I set out the trap in hopes of catching Graysin and Lynxie, my two cats who live in the hay shed.  Lynxie just stopped coming for breakfast and dinner--at least not when I was there.  And we had just got to the point of my being able to pet him and scratch his ears.

So one balmy fall night, I was sitting below Graysin as she looked down on me from her grass perch.  We were just talking.  Easy going cat and human conversation.  She was relaxed, calm and interested.  Then I asked her, "Graysin, do you want to come live with me in my new home?"  Her response was unmistakable.  A categorical no.  I almost felt embarrassed to have asked her such a question.

After catching the neighbor bully cat, Jorge caught Graysin and confusing her with the neighbor bully cat, released her.  Then another cat, one I have never seen before checked in to the cat hotel.  Another catch and release.

Just as I was thinking I would disassemble the crate I had set up, Jorge called me to say he had another cat.  This time, he checked the right ear to see that it had been tipped by Bend Spay and Neuter when I brought him in for a feral fixing.  And Rayito arrived.

I was so happy to see him.  I had held him twice when he was a baby because he had fallen out of the eaves where Momma Twin kept her little ones safe.  As he grew, he would come out whenever I was feeding.  He was so intrigued by the goats.  As they browsed, he would follow them.  Unlike the other cats, he was half white, so I would catch his feline movements out of the corner of my eye.  When I called his name, he would stop and sit.

Rayito was here for four days.  It was almost immediately apparent that he did not belong here.  I thought bringing him here and taking care of him was in his best interest; I would keep him safe.  It didn't feel right.  Rayito would be safer and happier back on his 40 acres where he grew up, where his mother and brother, uncle and grandmother live.  Safer where he had established hiding places from nocturnal predators and the chase of the dogs.  He would be safer where he was confident.  I accepted on Saturday that this is not Rayito's home.

Today, he went back to his stomping grounds.  I wished him well, expressed my apologies for the misjudgment on my part, and sent him off with a piece of my heart.  That was probably the hardest thing I've done recently.  I may never see him or my other kitties again.  As sad as that is, I accept that maybe Eileen was right.

Safe Flight, My Hens

Jeff and Heather, Chris, Brittany and their two month old angel Luca came over this evening to take several of my hennies to their new home.

The upkeep of three hen houses and the care of 18 hens and one rooster is a challenge for one person.  Jorge, the ranch hand, has been instructed to no longer help me with any of the animal care.  How unfortunate.

A great part of Jorge's love for his job has been working with the animals.  He told me he is uncomfortable with this new directive as he recognizes the labor involved for one person.  He said he was sad about it because he misses the interaction with the animals and the variety in his day, making it anything but routine.

It does tug at my heart to see him drive by the animals and not stop and do some of the things he used to do.  He actually looks the other direction.  He is fighting his instinct as he is a natural caregiver.  The animals do not understand his distance.  They grew fond of him, his kindness and his gentle ways.  The goats used to get daily rides in the golf cart.  Now it's as if he shuns them, but I know it is not so.

The time has come to ease my load a bit.

Juliet, Ruby, Blanca, and Zorra, four of my new baby hens, were put in the poultry crate along with Dumpling and Black, two of my one year old hens.

Dumpling has been like a mother hen to the babies.  She has been showing them around the ranch and the places to find bugs, take a dirt bath and where there is protection and shade for a nap.   When they scratch up by the grasses at the canal, she is always with them.  Black is a very docile Black Australorp who ruffles no feathers.  They will be a harmonious flock.

Chris and Jeff are biologists for the Wildlife Services.  I met Jeff when he answered my call for help in investigating what was killing my ducks.  He's smart.

Jeff had mentioned he was setting up his new chicken coop.  As you may imagine, it is entirely secure and predator proof.  When I made the decision to re-home a few of my hens, he was the first person who came to mind.  Jeff had his flock established already but Chris was just beginning his.

As sad as it was to hand over my hand-raised babies and grown girls, there was a sense of relief.  A touch of relief in my daily chore load; a greater relief that my girls were alive when I said good bye.  It doesn't always work that way on the ranch.

Happiness Is...

Being alone in a quiet house, no television, no radio, no chatter, listening to my two dogs simultaneously snoring in their peaceful deepest sleep.

Talking with the Animals

Why this secret of the joy of animals was not apparent to me until just recently, I'll never know. I'm just glad I finally figured it out!

In the course of a day, twice a day at least, I check in on and feed: 6 chickens, 2 dogs, 11 horses, 1 cockatiel and countless wild birds Eventually Larry and I eat.

It's obvious that animals bond to the person with food. And then there is the bonding that goes beyond the feed dish. There is acknowledgement, communication, friendship, companionship, love, sharing, giving and receiving. Mighty enjoyable.

So, Pippin is in the barn with laminitis. For those of you who do not know, this is a painful condition in horses' feet and if treated at the get-go and treated aggressively, the horse can recover. If not treated properly, the condition worsens and can lame a horse to the point of needing to euthanize. A word we do not care for in these parts.

I heard he had a tough day yesterday while I was gone. He was being shod and he flipped himself over backward in cross-ties (ties that connect to a post in the barn and to the sides of his halter.) It could have been the pain of having nails pounded into his feet. Normally, this is painless, but with the inflammation and pain of laminitis, we can only imagine it is not comfortable.

A double-edged sword. The shoes are critical to helping his feet heal.

So, when I got back, I stopped in to the barn to check on him. His face is all scratched up from the flip, his hind is scratched, his side too. He came to the stall door to greet me and show me his wounds.

I said, "Pippin, are you feeling better? Tell me what hurts."

Pippin backed up to the back of the stall, looked at me with focused eyes and in an alternating fashion, he lifted first his left leg, then his right, then his left again and again his right. He walked back up to me and we just cuddled.

He knows I'm there to care for him and help him. I added 3 more bags of pine shavings to give even more cushion to his stall floor.

Today, I was in the dry lot with my boys, Tripper and Alibi, scooping up their poop. They were walking around as they do, following me, nudging me hello, walking off.

Tripper came up to me, smelled the poop bucket I was filling and walked to the side of it. I looked at him and said, "Are you going to poop right there?" He pooped, right there. After he finished, I thanked him for making it so easy for me to pick up and he walked back from where he came.

Oh, the stories are adding up. The greatest thing is to believe and recognize how animals communicate with us. They are not just receiving whatever we send their way. And if you pay attention and listen with your eyes, heart, energy field, ears, hands, smell, even tasting the dust off their face when you kiss them, you will hear them.

It's not always easy to clear everything else out of their incoming communication path, but when you can, the message is loud and clear.

Back in the Saddle Again

This robin keeps appearing just across the lawn, perched on the fence between our house and the guest house. His belly is copper red. Just about every time I look over there, he's there. I'd like to think he is a sign of spring, but I'm not so sure he ever left.

It is almost one week ago that I returned to Bend. I wondered what it would be like to come back after being away just about 5 weeks. Would the animals still remember me? Would all my training have gone out the window? Would I still be so enamored by ranch living?

Thankfully, a resounding yes to just about 3 out of 3. Some minor retraining is in order.

The weather has been very agreeable. We haven't had full on sunshine each day, but at least some sun and it's been warm for January. The other day was 56 degrees with bright sun--that feels close to 70 in most other parts. The nights have not dropped down to the 20s or teens, or even much into the 30s. There are trade offs: cloud cover = warmer nights but no star gazing.

We have 3 new horses on the ranch: High Note, a very sweet gentle gray Arabian, Belle, a rather stout dark bay Quarterhorse, and Zak, the fiesty bay, son of Belle. The addition of these 3 has shifted the hierarchy in the dry lot. And in my absence, Lola has taken the lead role. What does this mean? Alibi does not come to the fence to greet me before eating. He has been pushed back in the pack, literally and in the food receiving line. Rest assured, he is just as kind and loving as he was before I left. Now, I have to feed everyone first and then go out to exchange affections with him.

The chickens are still going strong. We are grateful that we got the "cold hardy" breeds. I suppose it wouldn't do the feed stores any good to sell anything but that. It was luck on our part, we didn't know any better at the time. I must reiterate, it is an absolute joy to go collect eggs and have fresh farm eggs for cooking. We bought eggs at the super in Long Beach---hardly appealing.

The other day I checked out the garden and harvested a big sack of carrots! Yes, we still have carrots in the ground. They are in a raised bed, so they have a much better winter survival rate. I shared them with the chickens, the horses and my neighbors and still have a few in the refrigerator. I gave the garden a little water and left one or two more pickings in the ground.

Felon has become accustomed to sleeping in our mudroom at night. Well, she thinks she should be in there all day. I like going to bed knowing she is warm and cozy inside and it gives me a sense of security knowing she's in the house. On occasion, I let Jess come indoors during the day. He is a smelly boy, but it keeps him from tearing up the barn or the seat of the electric cart--ay ay ay.

And Pooker is happy as a lark to be back home. She did really well at our friends' house and she was well cared for. For the first couple of days, she would not leave my shoulder. It was all about reconnection and not letting me out of her sight. I would walk to the bedroom and she'd call out to me the minute she couldn't see me. Yesterday she decided to spend no less than 4 hours in the pantry. No kidding. I went in there, she wanted down, I put her on the shelf with cans and boxes and there she stayed. She just loves to walk on all the textures a pantry has to offer and she likes to "hide" on top of something tall. It puts her close to the next shelf up, making the open space smaller.

I put bird seed out and have seen one bird come in a couple of times. The others will be back. They are around, I hear them. I suppose it will take a few days for them to realize the food has returned.

In a sense I feel like an Italian grandmother: I feed all the hungry mouths and they happily eat up what is served and they love me for it. Don't they say food is the way to one's heart?

It's a Dog Eat Bird World

Oh, so much transpires in a day, it's hard to keep count and note the most notable. But this morning's event is blog worthy.

Something has been chewing on the lettuce and beets in our garden. We've been cursing the raccoon family we've seen around at 4am and a bunny we have never seen. Our scarecrow holding a rifle doesn't seem to be doing the trick.

This morning as I walked to the garden to water, I shooed away a menacing Magpie. We have a troupe of them--up to 15 or so. While they are very pretty, they are big, dominant and scare away all of our smaller bird friends. I digress...so, in defiance, he just jumped from the garden to perch on the barrel of the scarecrow's rifle. I gave him another shoo and he went up into the tree. Felon, one of our resident bird dogs, was accompanying me as usual for my morning tasks.

I didn't see the Magpie land down on the grass behind the Poplar tree, but Felon did. As I turned around, I caught Felon catching the Magpie--the bird never saw it coming and didn't have a chance.

While we do our best to discourage the dogs from bothering the birds around our parts, I must admit there was a hint of pride in my reaction. Good dog! What a catch! Just 14 more to shoo from my beets!

Felon paraded around the entire 20 acres with her catch, showing Larry and me her accomplishment for the day and taunting Jess, her co-hunter, with her possession.

But an interesting thing happened. The other Magpies mourned their loss. The entire flock swarmed down around her, cawing like I've never heard them before, landing, flying, crying, swooping. Felon was a little stunned by the sudden intrusion, then curious, and then took on the challenge. She darted around trying to snag herself another trophy. And what a good effort she made. The Magpies have retreated, for now.

Here it is well over an hour later and she is guarding her prize. She is spread out in the sun on the grass napping beside her kill. The victorious captor rests.

Life on the ranch can be harsh in some ways. It is just that---a dog eat bird world.

What are we Doing Wrong?

The interest in the western channel started sometime around Thanksgiving with a Cheyenne marathon--but that's beside the point.

Have you noticed that in western movies, except for the bad guys everyone else is pearly white clean? They travel by covered wagon across the wilderness, they don't bathe or change clothes for days and yet they are still so clean! Riding across their Ponderosa to check the fence line, rushing off on horseback to find someone lost from the trail, hoisting the lost soul up on the rescue mare for a safe return home, no matter what, they mount their horse or carriage and they arrive...yes, you guessed it, clean. Crisp even.

We walk out to simply say hello to the horses, no feeding or riding or rescuing involved, and we come back dirty. If it's not being instantly covered in horse hair because it's the time of year for shedding, or mud on our jeans or jacket because we were greeted with a dirty muzzle, surely it's just some run of the mill dust from the ranch. But it's something, I assure you.

Are we still ranch green? Or are we just bad guys?