The Cows

For those of us who eat red meat, we may not give much thought as to how it arrives in that neat plastic wrapped package at the super. There is a comfortable distance between the beast and our table. At least it's been that way for me.

Remember those cows at the end of my driveway that I mentioned in a previous blog? They are gone.

So, one day I was pulling out of the driveway and noticed the cows were missing, the ranch gate was wide open and as I looked in my rearview mirror, this oversized, tall, narrow, white, almost unbalanced truck pulled out of the gate and was making it's way behind me. First of all, I caught a glimpse of the side of the truck as it was pulling out: 1-800-MEATsomethingorother. I gulped. Then as it was looming behind me, I could see its logo on the front of the massive white container: a steer's head!

As it turns out, my two cow friends were "collected" right there in the pasture. I have no idea what actually happens or how, but I know while it may be a truck for livestock, it is not for live stock.

I still grieve my cow friends as I pull out of the drive and see an empty pasture.

Today, Larry and I were heading to class and off in the distance, coming toward us, growing bigger and bigger by the second, was the daunting white truck with a steer head. I covered my eyes. Oh, that truck. Brrrrr.

Who Was Expecting That?!

Well, here it is October 4 and what a surprise we had this morning!

No one seemed prepared.

The horses and dogs have not grown in their winter coats, this is the first snow for the chickens and they have no idea what's going on, the quail are soaked and hiding under the eaves, the vegetables are hanging in there under the plastic tarps, the song birds went quiet while the snow fell, the trees still have so many leaves they are snapping off and falling where gravity takes them, the grass is bright green under the junipers where no snow has touched down, and I, I dug out my rubber boots, cap and rain jacket to head out to greet the morning.

It is a wet snow, not exactly one for snow angels.

The nice thing about Central Oregon is that it snows, it's a pleasing sight, and then it goes away. Especially if the temps return to the mid-60s as is predicted.

So, if having the irrigation canals turned dry for the season on Friday wasn't enough to convince us of a season change, I think this one did it!

It's Occurring to Me...

"You should transfer your attention from failure to success, from worry to calmness, from mental wanderings to concentration, from restlessness to peace, and from peace to the divine bliss within. When you attain this state of self-realization the purpose of your life will have been gloriously fulfilled."
Paramahansa Yogananda, "The Law of Success"

The 2nd Cutting

We just watched our last neighbor cut, fluff, bale and stack the 2nd cutting of hay. This means something.

The irrigation companies turn on the water in late April. The ranches along the route wait as the water makes it way from the reservoirs down the irrigation ditches, filling irrigation ponds. When your neighbor up the ditch starts watering, you know your turn is next.

In preparation for the incoming supply of water, fields are often burned, turned, seeded, pipes are put out, equipment is emptied of the mice nests that built up over the winter, whatever is necessary to prepare.

Then for the next 2 - 2 1/2 months we monitor and adjust water flow, change the location of irrigation heads to be sure every blade is getting showered, we wait and watch as the hay grows under the sun of the long days here in Central Oregon. It grows by inches in a day. Each ranch shuts off the water when they are preparing to cut; this gives the hay time to dry. Then the first cutting comes, some time in late June/early July. The 1st cutting is a herald of summer--it's officially here. This is exciting! It's summer, it's hot, and everything is alive!

Once the hay is cut, baled and stacked, the watering begins again to grow the 2nd cutting. But then when the 2nd cutting comes, during the weeks of September, it means something else. The days are shorter, the hay of the 2nd cutting isn't as power-packed as the 1st, it doesn't grow as energetically as the 1st. And we all know it means fall is coming. There isn't a 3rd cutting.

The watering begins again, but this time just to keep the grass growing and green and give the horses pasture to eat before it goes dormant in the winter. The irrigation will be shut down at the beginning of October. No more "tick tick tick tick tick" of the water guns as they rotate around in a circle showering feet of green carpet. That is a summer sound.

Who would have thought that there was so much significance in cutting hay? It marks a definite season, for sure.

Just Like a Strand of Pearls

One of the friendly guys at the feed store told me that chickens have a finite number of eggs to lay. He said, "...think of them like a strand of pearls."

What an analogy.

Yesterday, Alice, one of our Barred Rock hens, laid her first egg! I was sick in bed so Larry went down to collect Juanita's daily pearl and came back to tell me we were blessed with two pearls!

I thought it was pretty grand to have hens laying eggs. But now--we have Bend-cultured pearls. Perfect small, brown, smooth, sometimes warm, and laid with love pearls.

Tiffany's ain't got nothin' on this hen house!

The Universe Delivers

Find the good. Notice the good. See the good. Acknowledge the good. Be grateful for the good.

Our hens are now laying eggs--daily!

The sun and the water from the mountains feed our garden.

Our garden gives us delicious vegetables and herbs.

Spending a week with my father.

Satisfaction and enjoyment in teaching--doing something I enjoy.

Friends checking in at the right moment.

The kindness of strangers.

Watching a horse feel better after a lot of TLC.

Having Larry's pack returned with all of his belongings intact.

A busy season for vacation rentals despite the economic reports.

Hearing about family getting together for important events, or just to visit, and that they can.

Coming across people who can heal.

Being surrounded by beauty.

Food on the table.

Late summer snowfall on the mountains to keep water flowing.

Watching the young ones stay healthy and grow.

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.