Bobcat Sighting

A bobcat strolled by my office window today, pausing by the cars to hunt for gophers. He quickly caught one, and continued on toward the pond. Andrew was working on a gate about 200 yards away. You'll have to excuse me for the subpar photo quality, because they were taken through the window after managing to evict Frieda, domestic cat, from her position gripped onto my lap—grabbing the camera just in time.

A hummingbird in hand

This morning Andrew left early to go to the lumber store...well before 7 a.m. I went into the barn to do throw some laundry in the washing machine, and as I turned on the lights, I heard a hummingbird buzzing overhead, trapped inside and panicking.

I've watched Andrew get out the ladder and carefully catch the trapped hummingbirds in his hands many times, but had never tried it myself. They fly into the barn a lot. There's a purple sage in the doorway that they like.

I glanced around and didn't see the ladder inside, and stood there trying to decide what to do. I've always been a bit afraid of hummingbirds, despite their size. Their wings look so delicate, yet those sharp beaks flying by your head at speed...I haven't been impaled yet, but it seems inevitable it will happen eventually if there are enough hummingbirds around.

I decided to just leave it there, with the door open, and hope it found its way outside soon. If it was still there when Andrew got home, he could deal with it. I started to leave, but then it swooped down lower to the window, where it was plastering itself to the glass. I watched it from the outside of the window, and it looked at me. I know you'll say I'm imagining it, but I swear, it looked very sad. I had to try.

I went back inside and came close to the window. It fluttered around a little bit, but it didn't leave. I slowly cupped my hands around it, and was amazed that it allowed that without even trying to get away. It must have been rescued before by Andrew (he even saved one a couple nights ago), because it seemed to know what to expect.

Then it was in my hands. It felt like a large bug, and I could feel its tiny feet on my skin. I tried to touch it as little as possible, yet wanted to feel every sensation I could while it lasted. I stepped outside the door, and the cat was at my feet immediately, meowing. I slowly opened my hands, and It was lying on its back, wings outstretched! I tenderly tried to flip it over onto its feet. It worked. It stood there on my palm for a millisecond gathering its wits, and then flew off.

That was an exciting way to wake up.

Chuffing

by Andrew

There are mountain lions here in Northern CA. We notice their scat from time to time, and hear reports of sightings around us.

Last week when I noticed some fresh “stuff” close by the goose pen (which is a fortress for precisely this reason), it made me think more about predators and our relationship to them.

Then along comes this month’s National Geographic article about endangered snow leopards, who don’t roar. They weren’t drawn that way. The sounds they do make are more subtle, well, unless they’re doing them at you I suppose. They hiss, mew, chuff, wail, and growl. Of all these sounds it is the “chuff” that fascinates me.

It flashes me back to childhood memories of idyllic summer weekends spent at my Aunt Cornelia and Uncle Hi’s house. My cousins were a little older than me, and more rambunctious (if that was possible). When we engaged in record fights with 45’s*, Frisbee style, Aunt Cornelia chuffed...a lot. Chuffing can lead to punishment.

All married men have experienced chuffing, especially my wife tells me, ones who are prone to making puns. So be it.

I have reason to believe that my goose, Enzo, is learning to chuff, from a mountain lion, my wife, or both.

Chuffing comes across as parental (or alpha), in a way that is condescending. It’s a sign of impatience and deep-seated disapproval. Now Aunt Cornelia could pull that off, and a snow leopard...you see what I mean. But a goose? Really.

So for roar-less lions everywhere, chu..huff…cfffuuph…hupphh…CHUFF.


* 45’s are old-school hit single records, played at a faster speed that LPs.

Wayward Bluejay

Today I was working in my office and was jolted out of my seat by a great cacaphony of flapping and skittering in the mudroom just outside my door. I yanked open the door to find Mooka, a blue jay, and a little brown bird bouncing off every window, wall, door, and the floor.

Before I could even holler for Andrew to come help, the little brown bird found his way out the open door and flew off, visibly relieved. Mooka, her ears akimbo, had obviously been mid-nap when the invasion occurred, and looked bewildered. The blue jay had become trapped between a window and an open door.

I shouted for Andrew who was in the barn working on a plumbing project.

"A blue jay? Eh." he responded. They're not the favored bird since they are known to eat hummingbird eggs (besides being loud and obnoxious).

After the blue jay flapped around a little more, Andrew finally decided to come rescue him.

I think he enjoyed it after all.

Frog Release

This is one of the bigger frogs we’ve found here yet. Popsey found him in the lumber pile, where he'd seen him before. He decided to relocate him so he wouldn't get squished. It was hard to get a picture of him because he kept hopping away. It takes special skill to be a frotogropher. Much easier to photograph a dead gopher.

Popsey, clutching a leaf in his mouth for unknown reasons (well now he explains that he was trying to let the frog know he's a critter), is poised to send him off into the wondrous wilds of Pond Hooray.



Then he was free. He proved to be a fast swimmer, with very long legs.


And flexible hips.


So long frog.

Lizard Popsicle

This lizard was relaxing under the prickly pear cactus late yesterday. It was notable for its especially long tail. It almost looked like a snake-lizard.


Popsey claims the lizard asked him for an ice cube. Not one to hold back, he tossed one over from his glass. It was a perfect shot, rebounded off the wall, and landed right next to the lizard. It didn't even flinch. Immediately it began licking the ice cube.


Lounge lizards like happy hour too.

Capturing the Swarm

Charles, the beekeeper, and his companion Maria, came over to collect the swarm.

We had no idea what to expect, or if there was any sort of plan in place. Charles is a man of few words while he's working, and the last thing you want to do is pester him with questions. I try and stay quiet and out of the way, not an easy task when holding a straining Mooka on her leash, and taking pictures. Do you ever feel like a dumb American in your own country? Maria offered to hold Mooka, otherwise I would have completely missed all the pictures. I might have to rethink that next time.

Charles has an injured hip, so Popsey's assistance was needed more than usual. He ended up closely handling the hives for the first time.

They set up a ladder under the swarm.


Popsey positioned an empty hive box on top of the ladder, inches below the clump.


Charles said, “Step away now,” and promptly began tapping (hard tapping) the branch right above the swarm with his crutch. Bunches of bees fell and landed in the box.



The bees turned nasty (can't blame them), and went on the offense. The next few minutes were not pretty, and although I do have some pictures taken before I realized what was happening, they are not being posted out of respect for the attackees. This picture sums up my reaction.


I escaped unscathed, Popsey got away with only one sting, but Charles endured quite a few. He said it's good for him, and handled it calmly. We took a break and plucked out stingers.

A smoker and protective hats were dug out of the van, they covered up, and got back to work. Charles went over to what was left of the clump in the tree and gave it a few more whacks. Sorry...no more close-ups.


They set up a second ladder, and put a lid on the box. Charles climbed up and blew smoke inside the hive.


Then Popsey had to do one last thing...pick up the box of bees, and carry it to the van.




Charles took the bees to a new location. If he left them here, they would be more likely to leave the box and fly back into a tree or structure. Still, we were a little sad to see them go.

Not long after this was posted it became apparent that it was not a just a hip problem that was affecting Charles. He fell extremely ill and passed away about a month later. This may have been the last swarm he handled. We are honored to have had him here. This post is dedicated to him.

Bee Swarm

Around midday on Thursday a giant swarm of bees formed a buzzing cloud between the hives and our house.

They settled in a tree near the driveway, and spent the next two days in a calm, football-sized clump hanging on a branch.

Wedding Preparations

If you think I'm not posting much these days, you'd be right, and I won't be for the next four days either because I'm going to visit my family for the weekend.

But I'm eager to start posting photos from the wedding, and will do a little at a time over the next few weeks.

Today we have the preparations and day-before activities.

This is our version of a wedding rehearsal. M&J posed for photos in the chosen spot. When I told them they looked like they were about to start square dancing, they wasted no time and busted into a well-executed dosey do:


The catering team, Cara's Kitchen, live here on the property in the cabin. They grilled vegetables the night before on the fire pit. Neither of us had a working regular barbeque at the time, so this was the solution. It was fun, but challenging getting the fire just right. There were a huge amount of vegetables to grill, so really we needed to have about 8 barbeques going to accomplish all that was planned, but in the end they were able to make more than enough.


The chairs were delivered and set up the night before. The marrying couple had a whole team of out-of-town houseguests staying with them, and they all helped with the set-up.


We move on now to the morning of the wedding, which was scheduled to begin at 11.

Popsey must have an art project for every occasion, so assigned himself the task of making corsages with the wild azaleas that grow in the wet areas on our hill. This was the perfect job for him, because it required going around and charming every female guest one at a time—pure torture for him.


The cabin kitchen was a-bustle with chopping noises, the smell of quiches baking, and the sound of vegetables being assembled on platters (a deafening roar).




The bride is a vegetarian, so the meal was vegetable-centric. But I happened to be on the scene when they were planning the food, and by coincidence, Corralitos Cheesy Bavarian sausages, one of my favorite meat products, made it onto the menu. Funny how that worked.

We redid the cabinets and tile in the cabin about four years ago, and at the time I was bemoaning the fact that plumbing issues prevented us from achieving the most-desirable "triangle" kitchen configuration. Now we have an actual chef living there, and she likes it! She says the long counter on one side works well as a prep counter. So, all is not lost after all.

From here on out there will be pictures of the actual wedding...next week. Until then, Happy Father's Day and have a great weekend!

The truth about hummingbirds

Hummingbirds are portrayed by the media as creatures of renowned grace and beauty, fluttering innocently among the blossoms of the utopian garden environment. But after observing actual hummingbirds go about their daily lives, I have come to the conclusion that this is one of those urban myths.

Welcome to the seamy underbelly of the lives of hummingbirds.

Yesterday as I was walking through the yard, one swooped down and flew in one of my ears and out the other. True story.

They are like little warplanes—advanced hovercrafts. Let’s put it this way, I would not want to meet one of these hummingbirds in a dark alley.

We hung a feeder next to this grape arbor Popsey built, and quickly one hummingbird laid claim to the feeder and the arbor.


Here he sits on his chosen perch:


Every time another hummingbird tries to land on "his" feeder, he flies in angry circles, chirping, to ward off the unwelcome invader.

But I can't help asking...does he even bother drinking nectar out of an actual flower any more? He’s like a couch potato, with his beer stashed in a drink holder in the arm of his lazy-boy. What’s he going to want next—an IV drip of sugar water so he doesn’t have to even get up from his perch anymore?

I really hope the cat doesn't find out about this.

Their legs are tremendous

If you don't have a blog, you may not be aware that if you come to one through a Google search, the blogger can see the exact search you were doing if they use a statistics counter (which most do). It can be fun and revealing to see what people search. It can also be disturbing.

Take for example one that came up on my visitor records recently. Someone landed here after searching "How to get rid of polywogs." Well, they came to the wrong place!

Here we want as many polywogs as we can get. They don't stick around forever anyway. They sprout legs and hop away as frogs. So in answer to that question: Wait. With a little patience, you will soon automatically have less polywogs. That's how it works.

If you want to get rid of frogs, you'll have to figure that one out without me. A combination of using pesticides and the effects of global warming should help you along in your misguided cause. Frogs are becoming endangered, so your task shouldn't be too hard.

Here at the ranch we support and encourage our slimy-skinned friends, particularly natives. They're no imposition on us.

We are excited to report that a number of polywogs in our ponds (featured in previous posts) have sprouted legs. They are crawling out of the water and up onto the rocks and plants. When you lean down to look at them they spring into the air and land on twigs or blades of grass, their front legs clinging on, back legs dangling beneath them.

Can you find the frogs in this photo?


The one on the left with its legs stretched out is easier to see, but there is one more:


You can also see a few polywogs sprinkled about.

If you sit quietly and watch the pond, at first all you see are buzzing insects hovering and skimming on the surface of the water. Gradually dozens of tiny frogs forget you're watching and go back to what they were doing, becoming visible for the first time.

Loitering with lizards

It has been in the 80's, which means the reptiles are hauling out on every available warm surface. You have to be careful where you walk, for that includes rattlesnakes. I won't even go into the time I barely missed stepping on a baby rattlesnake in flip flops. Come on, you know that's not what I meant. Rattlesnakes don't wear flip flops.

Yesterday I was sitting in the sun on the back steps taking a break, looked over and saw this fellow was sitting next to me.

Lounging around with lizards...they are not the best conversationalists in the world, but are pleasant company nonetheless.

The local wildlife

One might wonder, what kind of ranch is this? There are no horses, pigs, cattle, or livestock. There is one dog and one cat. That's a pretty sorry excuse for a ranch. It's true.

But the animals are everywhere.

A flock of California quail can often be seen scraping and pecking in the grass, making a wide variety of sounds.


For awhile Popsey was convinced there was a little girl in the neighborhood who spent every morning squealing "WOWEEE! WOWEE! WOWEE!" I tried to tell him it was a bird noise, but it really did sound human. Like a human who was very easily impressed. It turned out that's just what quail sound like.

In bird books one of their calls is described as sounding like "Chi-ca-go! Chi-ca-go!" A friend once said it sounds like "Cerveza! Cerveza!" (You can tell what was on his mind). To us it sounds like "It's my pond! It's my pond!"

Over the years I've wondered if there is a heard of angry jackals around here, until I realized it was just the boy next door who is very enthusiastic about his slip 'n slide.

A wild turkey once showed up and stayed for a week before flying off to find her flock, which we later spotted at the llama ranch several miles away.


And of course, there are the hummingbirds. We had feeders set up in the past, but took them down. We wanted them to find natural nectar sources and not become dependent on us. Instead, we planted any species of plant we could find that is a good food source for hummingbirds and butterflies.

But we decided we wanted to keep them here over the winter if possible, and if they run out of nectar sources they will usually migrate to a different place, possibly a neighbor's house with feeders. Finding the nest also revived our interest, and we want to encourage more of that.

Popsey came home the other day with three new feeders. Now we have a total of five. We numbered them, like tables in a restaurant, so we have some way to reference them:


"Five on one!"

"Two's empty."

"Ants on four."

"Mold on three."

Etc.

This morning I was doing my hummingbird chores, boiling up the sugar water, cleaning the feeders, and refilling them. While I stood at the kitchen sink washing the bottles, one flew down to the location of a feeder, looked around wondering where it was, zoomed over the house to the other side where another feeder was missing, and then flew over to the kitchen window and glared in at me as if to say, "Hey, lady, hurry it up will ya?"

For such diminutive birds, they can be very stern and demanding.

Who is hiding in this photo?

They are very well camouflaged. In case you can't see them:


and if you still can't see them, we'll zoom in:


Two baby hummingbirds.

We found their nest about a month ago while hiking in the woods. It's in a low branch near eye level. When we got close to it the mother hummingbird swooped down and chirped at us. Right away Popsey figured out we must be near a nest. We held still and watched and the mother flew into a tree and landed. Looking closely we could see her sitting in the nest. It's about the size of a little, Chinese teacup, and looks like a large knob in the branch.

Almost every day we go up there to check on it, but we try not to get too close. There are many predators who prey on hummingbird nests, like crows and blue jays, and we don't want to give them away. We stay at least six feet away, and kind of look another direction and sneak peeks at them peripherally.

About a week ago I went up there and the mother was gone, and there were two tiny beaks poking out. They freeze up when we get near, and the only movement we can detect is their blinking eyes. I wonder if the mom can even fit in the nest with them anymore.