Getting In On A Good Deal - D2D 6.25.14

All of these feeders were filled a day and a half ago.  

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In past years, by mid-July the tiny birds were coming to the sugar-water in big numbers, especially first thing in the morning and last thing at night.  But not this year.  The hummingbird feeders are already going full force.

In past years I could count on having to fill the almost two quart feeders at least every other day, sometimes once a day.  About two or maybe three weeks ago I noticed I was finding empty feeders every other day.  Interestingly though, I haven't seen the big bunch of birds early and late.  They seem to be coming to the porch feeders all during the day, though the morning and evening periods are certainly busy.  

The Tule River is sure running low.  Last summer, the flow under our bridge was nearly stopped by mid-July.  Several irrigation ditches, carrying water along the foothills on both sides of the river, take their adjudicated water out before it gets to the bridge.  If the river further up does actually stop flowing, of course the ditches will not have water to take out, and when that happens there will be no water for irrigating pastures or anything else.  

In my case, when the irrigation stops, the feeding of hay begins, lasting at least until we can begin watering again.  By the middle of September the Sycamore trees should begin to slow their use of water, which may allow a little water back in the river bed.  

Recently I was resting on the bed watching TV when Sharon came in, laughing.  "I have to fill you in on what's going on out here."  Obviously, something interesting had happened with our animals, and she was anxious to share it with me.

You who read this column on a regular basis know about Spirit, our three year old heifer who thinks she is simply an oversized dog rather than a smallish cow.  In fact, a young man who has come and helped around the ranch several times calls her the "horned dog" for she certainly does sport a rather impressive set of horns.  

Spirit was raised around the house, even sleeping on our front doorstep for a time when she was little.  When we tired of cleaning manure off the front porch she was turned into the pasture with the rest of the herd.  But she continued to come to the gate for her daily ration of grain.  And that continues to this day.  

First of all, Sharon loves to interact with her, and second, it doesn't hurt the little heifer's physical condition in the least.  She doesn't seem to get too fat, so there seems to be little downside to this process other than the cost of grain.

But this afternoon, Sharon was working in the dog kennel.  This is a chain link pen for our pampered pooches when we are gone from the house.  Built on the edge of the patio, the outside of the kennel looks directly into the pasture.  

Spirit had been fed her ration earlier, so had gone on her way to graze on the green grass.  As Sharon straightened up in the kennel, she noticed one of the adult cows easing up to the pen, watching her carefully.  The cow stepped a step or two, and paused.  Then another step or two.  Noticing the cows' actions Sharon spoke to her.  "So, you think maybe I'm going to give you something special like I do for Spirit."  

Of course, the cow didn't answer but kept stepping closer and closer to the gate.  Obviously, she wanted to get in on this feeding opportunity.  

Even though she was tempted, Sharon didn't give her any grain.  Sharon said, "I'd be feeding the whole bunch of them pretty soon."

But it was interesting how the little cow knew exactly where and how Spirit got her grain treat, and was emulating her little friend.  Of course, how long Sharon holds out on giving the cow grain, is a whole different question.  

I thoroughly expect a conversation such as this before long.  "Honey ... would it be too wrong to give that one little cow some of Spirit's grain?  Do you think the others would come up too?"  

Sigh.

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NOTE:  If you would like to listen to the above, it will also be found on Central Valley Business Times.  Doug said he was going to put it on the front page (so it would be immediately visible at that address) and on "Lighter Side" in the upper right corner area.  

http://www.centralvalleybusinesstimes.com

School Days - D2D 6.18.14

This picture was taken about 1950 just before Dale (on the right) left to go into the US Coast Guard.  That would mean I was almost exactly the age he was when he rode his horse to school every morning.  (yes I said it would be color … sorry, the original is B&W)

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When my brother Dale started school in 1935, the nearest school building was along the south side of the Tule River roughly across from the west end of todays Tulare County Dump site.  The Rural School was on the south side of the river, but the highway going from Porterville to Springville is on the north side. 

The closest access from the highway side was over a swinging bridge across the river near the school.  The teacher did have a choice though.  They could cross the cable bridge, or drive.  There were two routes to the Rural School. Either drive across the river on the bridge directly south of the Old Globe Church then work your way around to the school house, or cross on the bridge above the Dump and come in that way.  Either way, it was at least two or three miles further, and involved a bumpy drive down an lenghty access road from Globe Drive.  Most chose the bridge.

Every weekday morning the teacher drove from Porterville, parked near the north end of the swinging bridge, then crossed on the narrow cable bridge to reach the grounds of the Rural School.  Of course once in the schoolhouse, they had to start a fire, make sure the floors were swept, as well as any other pre-class preparation.  During winter months, it was entirely possible both the morning crossing and the evening return trip to the waiting car would be made in darkness.  On a stormy night, with the Tule River bounding along beneath the floor of the bridge, that must have been a rather harrowing trip.

When my brother turned six years of age, it was time to go to school rather than go with Dad around the ranch.  Dale's home was on the hilltop where I live today, which is approximately one mile from the Rural School location.  Typical of most old country schools Rural did not have a bus to gather up the children.  It was up to the parents and the children to make arrangments for transportation to school morning and night, or walk if they lived close enough. 

Living on a ranch where a horse was a reliable means of traveling the hills to work cattle and care for the ranch, it was not surprising Dale's chosen method was horseback.  Every morning my father would saddle the youngster's gentle old horse.  When my brother was ready to leave, it was up on the horse and ride away. 

The trip to school wasn't as simple as riding along a country road however.  There were fences to go through, and that meant he had to dismount, open the gate, lead the horse through the gate, closed it back again, then climb back onto his horse.  And this wasn't just once or twice.  As I remember the story he had to go through either four or five gates to get onto the school grounds.  I seem to remember Dad made sure there were handy rocks or stumps near the gate to make getting on easier for a six year old.

Arriving at the school, he rode into the barn, the original "parking lot" for vehicles used to get to school.  Hopping off once again, he loosened the saddle a bit so the horse would be comfortable for the day, pulled off the bridle and hooked it over the saddle horn, tied the horse securely, and threw him a little hay.  Then it was school time all day.

In the evening, long before the teacher made their way back across the swinging bridge, my brother would untie his horse, slip the bridle back on, tighten his saddle, and climb back aboard for the trip home.  And of course, he had the same gates to traverse before he arrived safely on our hilltop. 

To my brother, this wasn't a hardship. It was just another day on the ranch.  He and Dad had ridden together all over the ranch, along with his Uncle Bud Allumbaugh, for at least a few years.  Knowing his boy would have to make the trip to school before long, I'm sure Dad made certain the youngster could handle it.

Before he started second grade, the old Rural School was absorbed into the Springville Union School District.  Now school was at least 2.5 miles from our home.  As a modern, forward thinking school, Springville had a bus to transport their students.  So the trip to school for the rest of Dale's school days, though not as romantic as his First Grade year, was as simple as walking to the end of the drive and catching the bus.

Watch This Space!

Thank you for clicking over here to see what I've posted.

I just got an e-mail from the Editor of the Porterville Recorder, saying it was OK with him if I publish my Column, known as "Daunt to Dillonwood," on this blog, starting this Friday morning, June 27th.

I send in my information to the Recorder by about 2:00 - 4:00 (if I'm running slow) on Tuesday afternoon for publication in the Wednesday edition.  Then after the paying subscribers have had an opportunity to view it, he has no complaint if I publish it on this Blog.

That gives me time to put up the text, as well as the picture, then schedule it to be released for viewing first thing Friday morning.  If I schedule the publication for 12:30 AM on Friday, that will make sure it is up and available, even to the early risers on the east coast.  It won't be available to my niece and her new husband in Alice Springs, Australia though until 5:00 PM on Friday, as they are 16:30 ahead of us here in California.

I'm going to try to remind you, for a few weeks at least, by sending out an e-mail to my list of folks to let you know the new Daunt to Dillonwood (D2D in my computer-ese shorthand) is available for reading.

If you know of anybody who might enjoy reading these blogs/columns please feel see to refer them to this blog on Friday mornings.

One advantage will be the ability to go back and read back issues, as they come available.

And saying that, it strikes me I might want to go through the practice of putting up last week's D2D now, so I can go through the process, practicing the procedure before I put up this week's column.

Now, if you like (or dislike or disagree) with something you read in D2D, please comment, or give feedback.  I will sincerely appreciate it.

Thanks to all of you for your readership.

Update on the old Barn

Well, the work on the barn continues ... finally.

Bob spent two days crawling around the tin roof, pounding at least 3-5 lbs of roofing nails into the roof, pulling the old tin in place, replacing those that blew off, and in general making it much better. Before we could do the work on the roof, we had to improve the strength of the roof.

We cut 3/4 in plywood into 34 inch long by 11 inch tall flat triangles. By crawling on the ladder resting in the back of the pickup or resting on plywood on the hay, Bob was able to crawl high up in the peak and by using liquid nails, and 8 screws these pieces greatly strengthened the peak. In fact, when Bob was on the roof working on the tin, he commented it felt much more secure.

New Blog Startup

I have had a link to a previous blog on the bottom of my e-mail signature for a long time, but have been very slack about posting to it. I attend a Writer's Critique Group in Porterville, and it is obvious from listening to the others, that I am remiss by not keeping up with a blog. So, I am going to make an effort to make regular entries on to this one.

I tried to get back into the old one, and because I am now using an iPad, and an iPhone, it was just easier to start all over. So ... here we go.

First, let me tell you a little about "Fire On Black Mountain." This is a boy-story, aimed at the later Elementary School, or Middle School grades. Billy Scott lives on a cattle ranch with his parents. They live in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada range.

Billy's father wakes him in the middle of the night one August evening, to say, "Billy, wake up. There's a fire on Black Mountain."

Billy, very sleepy, rolls over squinting. "So?" He and his father have made many trips up and down the side of the mountain during the past few years, but an occasional lightning fire seldom burned more than a small patch.

"Billy, I just got a call from the head of the Forest Service, and he wanted me to lead a small group of fire fighters up the mountain before daylight."

Billy, now awake sits up abruptly. "But Dad. Your leg is broken. You can't ride."

His father, leaning on his crutches, just grins back at Billy.

"But .. Dad .. you don't mean .."

And Billy sets off on an exciting adventure, leading fire fighters in the dark to the fire.

This book has been read to the Writers Group. With a little more tweaking and editing, I am ready to pitch it to an agent.

Second, you know about my weekly column, "Daunt to Dillonwood," in the Porterville Recorder. Following the death of an old friend, and fellow columnist, Clinton Osborn, I bumped up my efforts from every other week to once a week. It appears every Wednesday on the Heritage Page.

I send out a copy of my column to out-of-town folk via e-mail. If you'd like to be on that list drop me a note and I'll be glad to include you. After you've seen one or two, or twenty, and you decide you want off, let me know and I can do that too.

Third, I took a picture of the local ground squirrel population sharing our old mare's morning pellets and grain. The picture sparked an idea, and I am in the process of building another book, this time using several of my pictures to illustrate and provide story line.