Insistence & Persistence

 These crisp, cool mornings and late afternoons have got the dogs all a-twitter with fall fever. Even Mags seems to feel it. But the Big Organizer of our daily rambles is Jack. He can be a very persistent fellow when the urge is upon him, not even thinking about taking No! for an answer. He likes to take his own walks, but these days he insists that I go, too. He will mope on the front deck, staring into the house like a starving urchin, until I finally come out. Then he is off like a rocket, but always keeping an eye out for where I am back at the tail-end of the line. The passion of bird-dogs in autumn is exhilarating. And a little tiring, too.

First of the season...

We got our first snow of the season yesterday. (The day before it was 90°.) About five inches of light, fluffy stuff that was mostly gone by evening as the temperature never went below freezing. This morning it was still snowing, but very lightly, and still is. The ground is white. The moisture is more than welcome as we have had only 4.3" so far this year. We could use a snowfall like this every day for a couple of months. Jack likes it, too, but is taking his rambles in smaller doses than in warm weather. His tootsies aren't used to it yet.

New Growth

Slowly the range regrows itself after our recent spate of wildfires. It's a welcome sight, the fresh, tender, new sprouts. But we still haven't had any rain, and our official drought condition is "Exceptional." They can say that again. Yesterday the humidity was 6%. We're getting to be the New American Desert. Only the prickly pear is thriving.

Fire!

Some excitement around the place last week. The first picture, above, is what I saw from the dinner table that evening. The second is what it looked like on the mountain to the west about an hour later. As most of them do, this one started from lightning about twenty miles south and then ran right up to within two-hundred yards of me in a jig-jag mostly northerly run before the wind shifted and sent it west across the mountain.

I had planned ahead and several days before had mounted a 25-gallon spray tank on my UTV. That may seem a little silly but you'll be surprised what a well-placed 25-gallons can do to a grass fire. By the time the wind shifted we (me and a spray truck arriving nick--of-time from a town 40 miles north) had knocked it down on the arm that was heading for the house. Ironically, the really poor grass from the drought was a positive factor for us.

The way the fire system works out here is that each ranch has a piece of equipment (usually forest service cast-offs) and when the alarm goes out they gather and fight the fire. I never saw any of my immediate locals as they were involved with the fire to the south (there were five or six different fires that night). All told, there were 80 pieces of equipment fighting this one. I had neighbors show up from 30 miles away to help.  Range fires are terrible things, but out here they bring out the "neighbor" in everybody.

Trees? We got trees.

I've been taking some ribbing on another site where I posted an image of a lone tree in a great big surround of bare prairie. So I herewith append proof positive that we do indeed have trees. Usually when you see a large stand of trees out here, like the one I live within, you are seeing the remnants of an abandoned homestead. But in the case of the trees in the picture above, I suspect it was more like "Hey, I got these pines left over." There's not a thing anywhere near them. Just cows.

Jack's passion

Funny about dogs. They all have their "things." Jack's are, in order, (1) the truck, and (2) the Rhino. Things that cover ground and go places! Jack's a motor-head.

My truck lives in the shop building, sometimes not coming out for three weeks at a time. But when I do pull it out, getting ready to go somewhere, Jack will not leave it! He stays close by, just in case I might try to sneak off without him. Going in the truck is his Number One Thing, and sometimes I give in and take him when I hadn't intended to. It'd be much more comfy if he stayed at home, but that's not His Thing.

I have a crew cab, with the back seat made down to a flat area for the dogs. Nirvana for Jack is to be back there with both rear windows open so he can ricochet from side to side taking in all the smells and all the sights.

I give in much too often, but hardly ever feel any guilt about it.

A domestic dispute

Or maybe a home invasion.

The other day I noticed a commotion just beyond the autogate. Turned out that two cock pheasants were having an argument. They went at it for quite a while before they eased off and drifted away into the sunflowers out of the frame on the right. No blood and no feathers that I could see, but it was definitely serious business.

(One head is at 12 o'clock on the "mass" and the other at 3. Click to enlarge.)

And the beat goes on

Heat. Lots of it. A dry, aggressive assault on the senses. When out in it, you get the feeling that things could spontaneously combust at any moment. At the time the picture was taken, my indoor reader registered 117° for the sending unit up under the eaves, shaded, on the bunk house behind the main house. The humidity is about 15% and has been as low as 7% so far this summer. This is weather more typical of the Atacama or Death Valley. I'm starting to wonder if we are the new Anasazi.

Hot & grumpy

Our heat wave continues. This afternoon my outdoor temp reader registered 116° and I consider that a trifle warm, even for Arizona where I used to live. Jack is always up for going out and running around but the others would just as soon stay inside and snuggle up to a fan. I'm trying to discourage Jack from doing too much wild dashing about, too. Even for a young, vigorous, healthy dog it's just too hot for that stuff.

I have to cross an open-range section of the buffalo ranch to get to the main two-track and this fellow was standing right on the edge of the road. I paused only for a moment and then moved on. These citizens are usually pretty docile but it just doesn't pay to make assumptions about something that weighs two-thousand pounds and might be feeling a trfile peeved about something or other. I like my own space and I also believe in the Golden Rule.

Mighty dry

It's about as dry as I can remember. No rain in a long time and none in sight. Critters are staying pretty close to the watering holes. Grass is poor and getting poorer.

Hot, too. With the exception of a few days early last week we have had about three weeks of 100°+ temps. Got up to 114° one day. The old joke about "110° in the shade!" "Well, stay outta the shade!" just ain't funny. Well, a little funny.

We need about a week of steady, soaking rain.

Emma's snake "thing"

I think I've posted before about Emma and snakes. That is, when they meet Emma terminates them with extreme prejudice.

Late last month I might have gotten some insight into what goes on in her mind. I was sitting on the front deck, enjoying a beautiful, mild late afternoon. The dogs were amusing themselves. Em was alone out front about 60 yards and seemed to be interested in something in the grass, circling it, going in, jumping back a little, but not really very excited about it. At first I thought it must be a snake, but then I was sure it was not because she was not diving in for the kill. A turtle? I keep binocs on the table next to my chair but couldn't see enough of it to tell what it was.

Emma got bored and left the scene, and I decided to walk out and see what it was. A mistake, as I should have put Em in the house. She saw me going out there and tagged along. Sure enough, it was a snake: a big bullsnake, maybe 4-1/2 feet long. When I got about ten feet from it Emma sprang into action, charged in, grabbed it, flung it about, and killed it pretty definitely dead, dead, dead. This despite me telling her to drop it and back off. Once committed she cannot be called off a snake. A bird, yes, but not a snake.

Then the penny dropped. She hadn't been all that interested in it before I appeared on the scene. She sprang on the thing when I approached it. My theory is that Em is protecting me, or the other dogs, from something dangerous. "If you're too dumb  to keep away from these things then I'm just gonna have to protect you from yourself by killing it!" she seems to be saying. Makes sense when all the evidence is in, I think.

Yesterday morning, from inside, I noticed Emma and Jack and Mags at the bottom of the steps up to the deck milling around and apparently mildly interested in something under the steps. I stepped out onto the deck and Em body-blocked Jack away and almost broke her silly neck getting her head under the second step and came out with another bullsnake, smaller this time. But just as dead by the time she had finished her business with it.

Been away

Been away for a while and when I came back I couldn't get into the blog to post anything. Weird. But I shifted from Safari to Firefox and managed to get in— at last for the time being. I'll be posting a few things in the next days and I apologize to regulars who may have checked in and discovered I was being a slacker!