Trail Shots
That visible trail of wildlife traffic coming onto our property from the north that I thought might be a fox might have been used by a fox at one time, but that is not what is making the path so well established. I staged our trail camera to face the direction and look down to where the traffic was passing beneath our fence.
This is what the camera captured Thursday afternoon through Friday morning, the last image happening about a half-hour ahead of the morning walk with Asher when I retrieved the memory card and turned off the camera:
The time stamps add a lot to the story of this overnight activity. The raccoon photos started at 6:35 p.m. and then at 12:38 a.m., 4:32 a.m., and 6:03 a.m. These are just a partial selection of the raccoon traffic that was happening all night long. Interestingly, there was only a tiny percentage of pictures showing raccoons going in the other direction, leaving our property.
I have noticed raccoons living in a few of our trees, but I had no idea how many are roaming around in the woods all night. Since they likely evade coyotes by climbing trees, their main predator is probably automobile traffic. There’s not a lot of traffic on the roads in the countryside during the hours raccoons are wandering around, and there are more acres of woods than roads, so I can understand how the number of raccoons could get high.
Maybe we should offer hunters an invitation to spend time in our woods controlling the population. A quick search turned up coonskin caps on sale for almost a hundred dollars each. I could post an ad that I’ve got a lot of raccoon fur that I’m willing to give away for free. Interested parties just have to catch the wild raccoons themselves.
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Asserting Myself
It is rare that I feel a need to get aggressive with the horses. Yesterday morning was one of those rare moments. To do this story justice, a little background should be understood, so please bear with me as I prepare the scene.
First off, the wooden fenced area we refer to as the paddocks can be split in two by closing gates. Two of our horses get a larger serving of grain than the others, so we pair them up with Mix and Mia on the small paddock side of the barn overhang and Light and Swings on the large side.
They understand the routine well enough that if they aren’t already in the designated positions when we emerge from the barn with feed buckets, they usually adjust in short order. Up at the overhang, there is a short alleyway between the two paddocks that is passable most of the time. When they are in position to be served grain, we swing two gates 90 degrees to block the alleyway.
Since we will be moving in and out of each side multiple times, usually with our hands occupied, it helps if we don’t need to secure the gates with chains each time. To solve that, we conveniently park the wheelbarrow across the alleyway between the two gates so the horses can’t cross, but we can step our skinny little selves around the gates with minimal difficulty.
Mix and Light in a rare moment of sharing a hay net as if they were BFFs. Whaaat!? Not usually.
I’m usually busy filling the wheelbarrow with manure at this point while Cyndie is serving feed buckets and filling hay nets.
Are you with me so far?
One more thing: each paddock has a gate to the hay field that we leave open. If they want to, the horses can get to the other side when we have the alleyway blocked by walking down past the waterer, out one gate and in the other to disturb the horses eating on the other side. It’s not usually an issue these days because they tend to remain occupied with their own buckets, and walking all the way around isn’t really worth the effort.
It all works like a charm until the horses decide they have a different agenda.
I’ve been on my own for a week, and the horses are well aware of my routine. They’ve been patient with my being able to only do one thing at a time. When I popped out of the barn for the first time, they were all in the right spots for feeding, so I closed the alleyway, cleaned off their placemats, and went inside to prepare the buckets of grain.
When I emerged again, Light and Swings had taken that long trek down and around to now be standing on the wrong side and in the way of Mix and Mia. A power move, for sure, but I was not going to help them at all. I served their grain buckets in the regular spots and left Mix and Mia’s on the ground by the door. All the four horses could do was stare at the grain in frustration.
Light and Swings didn’t take the hint and stood their ground defiantly, so I just busied myself sprucing up their side and filling their hay nets while horses fussed. I was not about to re-open that alleyway for them. They chose to go down and around; I felt they should go back the way they came if they wanted to eat.
When I ran out of things to do, I decided to help them understand what we were all waiting for. I stepped around the gate and energetically pushed them to get the heck out of there and go around. All four horses got riled up at this dance, but it was very easy for Mix and Mia to see that they were not at fault as my attention remained solely on the other two.
It took a couple of loops down around the dying willow and back up before Swings and Light figured out they could get away from my pressure by going through the gate I was directing them toward. As soon as they did, I served Mix and Mia their buckets, and in a blink, everyone was calm and back to grazing.
I think I successfully made my point. For the record, no shenanigans occurred at the evening feeding. ‘Nuff said.
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Watchful Eyes
Saturday was a cold day that froze water in one of our electric water buckets that failed. Then, in the afternoon, what I can only describe as an angry wind showed up and made it feel like we were under attack. Debris was peppering the walls of the barn, and I struggled to push the door open against the pressure. The wetted grain in the horses’ feed buckets froze to the bottom. It was miserable.
Sunday, I was shocked to find the temperature had warmed considerably, and it was calm enough that fog was forming. It was very pleasant compared to the night before. The relative warmth of the day inspired me to nibble away at the dying willow tree now that I was feeling more inspired about the possibilities for a shade canopy in its place, thanks to feedback from a couple of people who read my post yesterday morning.
I was reminded that I don’t have to do everything at once, so I grabbed a rake and started pulling down dead branches that were hung up in a tangle with all the others. Mix came over to see if I needed any help.
I tried picking up branches as they fell and started tossing them just outside the nearest gate. It didn’t take long for Light to wander over and conduct an inspection of whatever the heck I was trying to accomplish.
That initial progress was so easy that I decided to return after lunch with a pole saw. Heck, the temperature had climbed above freezing, and the sun was making intermittent appearances. Since I was hoping to bring down some larger limbs, I closed a couple of gates to keep the horses out of the small paddock. The only thing that Swings could do at that point was stand and stare from the other side of the fence.
I got the impression she was not entirely pleased to see me dismantling their favorite old shade tree. Mia can be seen in the background of that picture, showing no interest whatsoever in my antics.
I went as far as I could with a handsaw. My pole chainsaw will be part of the next phase, but I need to wait until Cyndie is home since we have a rule against using chainsaws when no one else is around.
How about a side-by-side comparison of my progress?
Saturday before pruning
Sunday after pruning
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Before I can do more pruning, I have a pile of branches that needs to be cleared away.
That’s always the least glamorous part of cutting down branches and tends to tarnish the good vibes achieved in the first part of the job. Since I’ve given myself permission to not try to do the whole job of removing the tree all at once, today, I plan to just focus on hauling branches to make that pile disappear.
Cyndie is expected home tomorrow, so if I can clean it all up today, I can see if she notices the difference in the tree. That is, if the horses don’t point it out to her first.
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Slow Death
In my lifetime, I’ve watched a lot of trees die a slow death. The willow in our small paddock was a beautiful tree when we moved here. When we fenced it in, we knew the risk we were taking and tried to protect the bark with a variety of barriers to prevent horses from chewing on it. That battle was not going to stave off the inevitable because the combination of heavy hoof traffic and standing urine puddles in that very wet soil was killing it from the ground up.
2013
When it became obvious the tree was dying, we removed the protection from the trunk and let the horses have at it. For two growing seasons, I have been shocked by how much green growth was still sprouting amid the tangle of dead branches. Today, the lean is obvious, and I’m not sure the tree will be standing long enough to find out if any new leaves will show up at all this year.
The horses have seemed to enjoy chewing away at the base of their favorite shade spot.
At this point, it hardly offers much shade at all, but they still frequently hang out beneath it, maybe out of habit.
Soon I will have to cut it up and haul the debris away and the horses will have nothing to stand under except for the overhang of the barn. This has me dreaming again of a sail shade for them. I think that would be pretty slick.
I also think it would be pretty expensive to pull off. I have my doubts about such a feature working in our climate year-round and wonder how long a life expectancy a sail would have under relentless UV rays, occasional high winds, and periods of heavy snow. However, in the simple terms of shade on a sunny day, I think it would be a really neat solution.
Maybe we should do a feasibility study on the idea. If it ends up not being a sensible way to provide shade for the horses, there are other possibilities we could consider. Coming up with something that will take the abuse that horses can dish out tends to complicate the search, but by looking for ways other horse folks have solved the issue, I’m sure we could find a reasonably affordable method that beats a dying willow tree.
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Writing Results
On the 31st day of January in the year 2025, our weather is mild, and life on the ranch is serene. Yesterday, spring-like songs were floating in the air from birds taking full advantage of the softening of winter’s grip. Cyndie has been reporting from the coast of southern California and sending me pictures of textures in the sand and surf that she knows I appreciate.
The temperatures at each of our locations are not that different, but it’s chilly where she is and warm at home.
If you are a person who journals, this might be obvious to you, but it has been helpful for me to write about times when I find myself getting in the way of my own progress.
After posting yesterday about my situation with the trail cam and the pruning saw, I was compelled to take another crack at both. I stopped off in the shop after feeding the horses with the intent of giving a more intense effort hunting for the saw in the 4th place I thought I may have stashed it. It wasn’t there, but then I turned around and spotted it in plain sight on a shelf by my circular saw. A saw by a saw. Perfectly logical.
That success inspired me to grab the trail cam and set it up by the fence where there is an obvious animal trail that I believe is our neighboring fox. Asher and I left that spot and headed down the Perimeter Trail toward a series of young oak trees from which I wanted to remove low branches. To keep the dog tethered to me, I brought a clip to hook his leash to one of my belt loops. That allowed me to have both hands free to tend to my pruning.
It didn’t occur to me that taking my eyes off him might lead to something unsavory. I was working down in the dry creek along our southern border, which gave Asher access to the neighbor’s side of the ditch where I wouldn’t normally let him meander. When we set off on our way again after I finished sawing, I noticed he had a thick wad of grass wound up in the prongs of his collar. He had been rolling around in the tall grass.
With the warm temperatures, the thawing ground offers all sorts of scents that Asher can’t resist rubbing against. It wasn’t until we got back into the house that it became noticeable, but his coat now has picked up a heady aroma of dusty, dry grass and some wildlife perfume that smells a bit like plastic when it gets too hot.
It’s not as lovely as it sounds.
I am not writing that to inspire me to give him a bath.
We spent time out on the deck in the afternoon heat, where I could sand my current wood sculpting project without concern for making a mess, and Asher’s stink was only occasionally annoying.
No, I have no intention of trying to bathe him.
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Random Snippets
Oh my gosh, we must have a large wolf traipsing across our property! Wait. No, that’s Asher’s pawprint. Never mind.
The ground is thawing during the day, and what little snow is left is getting pretty soft. It refreezes overnight and leaves some perfect prints in the morning.
The fields are almost clear of snow now.
The warm weather has triggered some fresh raccoon activity, and Asher has figured out a family is living in a tree just beyond the edge of the yard that he can see out the bedroom door to the deck. Shortly after the sun drops below the horizon, he starts barking in protest of their existence. It goes on for a good half-hour while they busy themselves in full view on the branches up high doing whatever it is they do before setting out for their regular overnight routine. Fixing their masks, maybe.
I haven’t figured out where I put my new pruning saw yet. It wasn’t in the next place I thought to look.
In the category of things I can’t seem to finish after starting, I got out the trail cam recently and then brought it in because there were no new tracks, and the temperature dropped to insanely cold levels for days. Since then, there have been a lot of new tracks, and the weather has warmed dramatically, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to set the camera back up.
Maybe that’s because I figure I’ll just get a bunch of pictures of the raccoons, and I’d rather not see how many there really are. Ignorance is bliss.
That bitter cold delivered the first significant crack in our once pristine new asphalt driveway that isn’t so new anymore.
It’s like getting the first scratch in a new car. You wish it would never happen, but you know it will eventually. Unfortunately, as soon as we got the first one, a second appeared closer to the house within a day or two. This is why we can’t have nice things.
Snippets, all of them. Random, too. Take that, Universe. It might even make sense if one keeps the bigger picture in mind. I don’t actually know. I just write ‘em.
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Animal Focused
There is nothing else I need to do. Caring for and entertaining (in Asher’s case) our animals is my only duty for a week. When Asher and I approached the paddocks yesterday morning, I thought it looked like the horses might have been spooked into the back pasture. Light was alone in the round pen. Her movements gave me the impression she didn’t want to be in there anymore. However, she wasn’t making any progress to the open doorway.
I carried on with cleaning up under the overhang, filling hay nets, and preparing their buckets of wetted grain while they messed around in the fields.
The horses kept looking in the direction of a crowing rooster pheasant to the north. The apparent alarm of the horses had me wondering if the pheasant was calling out a warning of a predator in the vicinity. The next time I looked to see if I could find what was bothering the horses, I found the pheasant strutting around on our driveway like he owned the place.
Well, that indicated to me there was no threat around, or that pheasant would have noped out of there long ago.
I walked through the small paddock toward the crazy bird, and he took to the air with all sorts of squawking and disappeared across the plowed field north of us. Slowly, the horses made their way in and settled down to eat.
Asher and I headed out mid-morning to check on how nice the thaw was progressing and found the horses standing rather sleepily in the sunshine.
Since the dog and I had trudged a full circuit of the property, I offered him a chance to pause in the warmth radiating off the doors of the hay shed, which was also serving as a good windbreak. I leaned back against the shed door and closed my eyes, knowing it was going to be very easy to fade into a nap.
The sound of a horse stumbling rejuvenated my alertness. It was Light. She is notorious for failing to lock her knees sufficiently when she drifts off into a standing slumber. I liken it to the feeling when fading off to sleep at night, that suddenly the bed is flipping over and startles me back to awake. That hasn’t happened to me for a long time. My sleep arrives easily without any fuss these days.
Asher was too busy surveying his kingdom to nap with the rest of us. He saved that for later, on the floor in the house where the heat was amplified through the full-length glass in a door.
I never said focusing on the animals is strenuous each and every minute. Since they are all great nappers, there are plenty of moments when it can be superbly calm and restful.
Even more so when the weather is sunny and warm.
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Payback Week
All’s fair in taking turns covering the ranch while your spouse gets a break from the routine. Cyndie is out of town for a week, and I am chief cook and bottle washer, dog walker, and horse wrangler while she is gone. It’s a bit of a mixed blessing for me since I really do enjoy time on my own, but unlike my time up at the lake last week, now I am responsible for the care and feeding of our animals throughout each day.
It’s not that much different from when both of us are home, except everything tends to take a little longer alone. The benefit of getting two things done at the same time is gone. Luckily, our animals all demonstrate a respectable amount of patience with me. I think they can tell I’m on my own.
To my benefit, a January thaw has taken away a lot of the stress of doing anything outdoors.
I thought about doing some tree branch trimming, but for the life of me, I can’t remember where I put a new pruning hand saw I got for Christmas. Didn’t find it in the shop or the storage cabinet in the house garage, so it must be somewhere more ingenious that I picked so I would know where to find it later.
Think, John, think.
As long as I was rummaging around in the shop, I decided to bring a wood sculpting project to the house and spread it out all over the dining room table. It’s one of those perks of being the only one home for a week, leaving a mess out, and not having it be in anybody else’s way.
I’m ready for the week to go smoothly, so Cyndie won’t have anything to worry about while she is away. I want her to have such a great time that she will come home eager to pay me back with another chance to escape to the lake when no one else is around.
You should know that all my gleeful ranting and raving about having time alone lately is simply because it compliments the wonderful times with Cyndie when we are home together and times with my many friends when I get to let my gregarious side run wild. Don’t let my advancing age fool you into thinking I have become a crotchety old, anti-social curmudgeon.
I’ve got a couple more years left until I fully grow into that description.
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Intentional Avoidance
We are headed into a late January thaw this week, so we pulled the blankets off the horses yesterday afternoon. They seemed just fine with that.
Since we haven’t received new snow in quite a while, the intentionally avoided areas in the paddock have become ever more obvious.
The horses are staying off Paddock Lake in the distance, and the icy area in the foreground, except for that one time it looked like one of them might have slipped and fallen on it. Otherwise, all the little paw prints in those spaces are probably made by coyotes.
There might be a few less coyotes roaming our neighborhood after Saturday. There were at least six trucks, many with hunting dog cages, patrolling our vicinity, and all that activity had Asher in a tizzy. Poor dog isn’t able to ignore things over which he has no control.
My intentional avoidance of political news has proved rather effective for my mental health over the last couple of months. I’ve detected a notable uptick in messages and comments online in the last week that hinted at an increase in the nastiness I seek to evade. I’m finding it hard to imagine I could somehow keep this up for a full four years minimum, but since it’s worked well enough thus far, I plan to keep practicing this intention for all I’m worth.
Whatever will happen is going to play out whether or not I’m looking and listening. I prefer keeping my attention on the beauty and wonder of our immediate surroundings, where I have plenty of influence to make improvements and foster love.
Feel free to join me by practicing making a positive impact in the local communities wherever you live.
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Relative Something 