The 7MSN Ranch

And on Friday, she served leftovers and got all philosophical

2012-01-27T04:00:00.000-07:00

I take too darned many pictures. Seriously. My new year's resolution is to take fewer – but better – pictures.

In the olden days when I shot on film, each click meant money out of my pocket – for the film, for the processing,

for the prints. I never pressed the shutter until I was reasonably sure the image was artfully composed and perfectly exposed.

With digital cameras, each click is free, and it's so stinkin' easy to overshoot.

The law of large numbers says if you press the shutter enough times, eventually you'll get something good.

I don't want to work that way. I want every picture I take to be the best picture I've ever taken.

But I am so, so far from reaching that goal – which is a good thing because

if I ever get there, I might stop taking pictures, and that wouldn't be any fun at all.

I love taking pictures. Always have, always will.

And blogging gives me this crazy, unexpected opportunity to share my passion with strangers,

who become friends, who stop by to look at my pictures.

So thank you – yes, I mean you – for making me want to be a better photographer.

Lucy picks a fight with the wind

2012-01-26T04:00:00.000-07:00

Lucy: Sure is taking you a long time to get supper ready. It's cold and we're hungry.

Lucy: And the wind keeps blowing this damned door closed.

Lucy: Stay!

Lucy: How long can it possibly take to cut open a bale of hay?

Lucy: Oh for cryin' out loud...

Lucy: Stay open, you stupid door.

Lucy: I mean it this time.

Lucy: Oh, what's the point...
Do I really want to lose my nose over this?
She's bound to come out with supper eventually.

Deep Voice: Step aside, little lady.

Hank: Let me show you how it's done.

Even the wind doesn't argue with Hank.

Smooch waits for something exciting to happen

2012-01-25T04:00:00.000-07:00

Smooch: Woe is me. Nothing to do today but sit on the porch and work on my tan.

Nothing to bark at, nothing new to sniff.

I suppose I could break into song.

Wait...what's that I hear?

Ho-hum. Just a tumbleweed bouncing down the road two miles away.

Might as well curl my tongue into a heart while I've got nothing better to do.

Or I could just sit quietly and pose while mom tries to figure out all those focus settings that continue to befuddle her.

Same game, different rules

2012-01-24T04:00:00.000-07:00

George: No offense, Alan, but this game is getting boring.

Seriously, how many times can we circle the corral holding this Jolly Ball while mom takes pictures?

The nice people out there are tired of it. They want to see something new, something exciting, something out of the ordinary...

...like a one-eared burro trying to balance a ball on another burro's butt.

Now that's something you don't see every day.

George: Hmmm. This is a little bit trickier than I thought it would be.

George: Whew. Got it. Not my best look, but at least they haven't seen this pose before.

Alan shows off for the camera

2012-01-23T04:00:00.000-07:00

Alan: I hope you're catching all this action, mom.

Alan: The nice people out there probably don't realize what an amazing baton twirler I am.

Just another of my many hidden talents.

Alan: Now watch closely as I toss this thing a hundred feet into the air, twirl three times around,

then catch it in my teeth as it falls to earth. Are you ready?

Me: I'm ready!

Alan: Cue the drumroll...

Alan: Damn. I missed it.

Me: Damn. Me, too.

Score another one for the home team

2012-01-22T04:00:00.000-07:00

You're riding across the desert on your trusty steed. It's not the best day for a ride – a little too cold, alot too windy –
but you try not to care because it feels so darned good to be in the saddle.

You're moseying along, taking in the scenery, whistling a little, grinning a lot, and then you see it. A speck in the distance.
Out of place. A bright object that doesn't belong there. Your mind starts to wonder. Could it be?

You ride closer. Your heart starts to beat a little faster. You wish you were wearing your glasses.

You encourage your trusty steed to walk faster. She senses your excitement. Her ears prick forward. She picks up a jog.
Closer and closer you ride, still not sure. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. You curse your near-sightedness.

Then it comes, the moment of certainty. You drop your reins and raise both arms straight above your head.

SCORE!

You and your trusty steed have found another cow skull.

You quickly dismount to pick up your treasure. Your trusty steed shakes her head and rolls her eyes
but stands quietly while you tie it to the back of the saddle.

You have to wait to take pictures until you get home because somebody dropped her point-and-shoot in the dirt awhile back

and she was cameraless on the ride.

Lucy: So that's what was banging me in the butt all the way home.

Introductions were made. Smooch was skeptical at first but she warmed right up to him.

Smooch: Where'd the rest of you go?

The only decision to be made now is where to hang him.

Saturday encore ~ Hey! That's my hay!

2012-01-21T04:00:00.000-07:00

Every weekend, I move a week's supply of hay from the hay barn to the feed room. I lock the boys out of the area so they don't get in the way, unload the hay and call it done. It's no big deal...unless I forget to close a gate and the boys sneak in. Oh, the drama.

Alan: Is all that hay for me?

Hank: Dream on, Alan. It's all for me and I have no plans to share it.

Me: Hank, you're delusional. Now please go find something else to do and let me get my work done.

George: He's eating all our hay!

*burp*

The ranch in January

2012-01-20T04:00:00.000-07:00

This past December was the coldest and snowiest month I can ever remember since moving to New Mexico,

which makes this January seem not so bad.

Most of the snow has melted, the mud has dried up, the sun has made daily appearances,

and I continue to kid myself that spring is just around the corner.

I've finally caught up on scooping all the poop that collected under the snow, and in the process, I started collecting these:

Hank's hoofprints, cast in mud. I have no idea what I'll do with them, but they're too perfect to throw away.

Smooch: Imagine how much more mud I could track inside the house if my feet were as big as Hank's.

The hay barn is still more than half full, no thanks to Bouncer and his extended family.

The few piles of snow that remain are an endless source of entertainment for the chickens.

Remember Amelia, the wayward pigeon? Of course you do. I heard from her owner this week.

She still hasn't shown up at her home in Arizona. Perhaps she's taking an extended vacation. On Howland Island.

Lucy and George are saving their energy for spring.

Lord only knows what Alan is doing.

Hank, as usual, is large and in charge.

I still don't know what Alan is doing. Wait...I take that back.

He's keeping me smiling, which is ever so important this time of year.

It's not like I didn't warn him

2012-01-19T04:00:00.000-07:00

Me: George, what seems to be the problem? You look a little troubled.

George: I was chewing on the tree and now I've got sticky stuff all over my mouth.

Me: And how many times have I told you not to chew on the trees?

George: Eight million. But Alan was doing it.

Me: And if Alan jumped off a cliff, you would follow him?

George: I've heard this lecture before.

Me: And you'll keep hearing it. Maybe one day it will sink in.

George: Alright, alright. Now go get me a toothpick or some floss or something.

George: Better yet, a shot of whiskey. That might dissolve it.

Me: Fat chance. You act goofy enough when you're sober.

An essential winter camera accessory

2012-01-18T04:00:00.000-07:00

I admitted earlier this week to being a cold-weather wimp when it comes to riding.

The same applies to outdoor photography. I cannot take pictures when I'm cold.

So how does this blog survive through the winter, you ask? Because of these:

My Finger Fuzz Flip Mitts. I saw them in a Sahalie catalog and couldn't order them fast enough (and they are not paying me to say this). Here's the link. I've worn other kinds of fingerless gloves and flip mittens, but these get two thumbs, and two index fingers, up – which are all required to operate the dials and buttons on a DSLR camera, which is what makes these mittens perfect for taking pictures in winter.

But before I ramble on about these mittens, let me focus your attention elsewhere:

This combination of lens and camera takes fingerprints.

(I cropped the picture above from the picture above it, and both versions are straight out of the camera.)

And, yes, my hands are very dry. But my point is...actually I don't know what my point is other than I'm really having fun with this camera.

A few of you have asked me about the settings I'm using, and all I can say about that so far is I keep changing them. Once I settle on some favorites, I'll be happy to share. Meanwhile, for all of you new D7000 users, my best suggestion is to go to this link at kenrockwell.com, wherein he explains the hows and whys of his settings. You will learn so much your head might explode, but it's a million times more informative than the user's manual.

Where was I? The Flip Mitts are made from the softest, warmest fleece I've ever worn.

And little magnets keep the flap out of the way when you need to use your fingers...

...for important things like de-goobering eyes...

...and scratching your horse's itchy, shedding back.

So maybe the only downside to these Flip Mitts is their powerful attraction to horse hair.

I'm not going to hold it against them because they are washable and perfect in every other way.

Odd man out

2012-01-17T04:00:00.000-07:00

Alan: I'm sick of being the smallest one in the herd.

Alan: Why are you standing with Lucy today? Is it because I'm short?

Alan: I'm tall enough to tickle your nose.

Alan: You won't be able to ignore me if duck under for a sneak attack.

Alan: Oh, come on, you guys! Break it up and let me stand over there with you.

George: What do you think, Lucy? Should we let him in?

Alan: Come on, Lucy! Don't make me beg.

Lucy: Scratch my neck while I think about it.

Alan: Freakin' royal highness...who does she think she is?

Lucy: I heard that.

Somebody's going to be sore tomorrow

2012-01-16T04:00:00.000-07:00

Sunday was not the perfect day for a ride, but it met my criteria of no snow, no slippery mud, above 40, and not much wind.

I freely admit to being a fair-weather rider. I don't like being cold, nor do I like the immobility

of wearing enough layers to stay warm in the saddle. Call me a wimp.

It was the first day since sometime in November that Lucy and I hit the trail. I'd like to think

she was as eager to go as I was, but who in their right mind would want to have a saddle strapped on their back

to haul somebody's butt down the trail when they could hang back in the pasture with her buddies and eat, drink and be merry?

Nonetheless, Lucy came forward and took me down the trail. We had a marvelous time.

But somebody's going to be sore on Monday after the long layoff, and her name is not Lucy.

What a joy it is to pick right up where we left off after our last ride.

No drama, no shenanigans, no acting out...

just an enjoyable ride down the trail, checking the fenceline and

seeing what the cows have been up to in the past few months.

I'm happy to report we didn't find any casualties of winter.

We'll both sleep well tonight...

...and at least one of us will be dreaming of the next ride.

Camera straps and car washes

2012-01-15T04:00:00.000-07:00

This is my old camera, with its standard-issue Nikon strap. I've always hated it (the strap, not the camera). It was bulky around my neck, the leftover segments after I adjusted it to my torso were always getting in the way, and Nikon never paid me for all the advertising I gave them. But did I ever replace it? No. Because every time I shopped for a new strap, I was paralyzed by indecision.

When the new camera arrived...with its standard issue Nikon strap...I was determined not to use it (the strap, not the camera). And when I shopped around this time, I found exactly what I was looking for – an understated, comfortable, affordable, durable leather strap.

It is elegantly thin and strong, and the neck pad is infinitely more comfortable than Old Ugly's up there.

Having worn my old camera for 4+ years without ever adjusting the length of the strap,

I knew exactly how long the new strap needed to be and ordered one to my specifications.

I also ordered "strap bumpers" to prevent the connector rings from scratching the camera.

The strap came from gordyscamerastraps.com and cost $48 with shipping.

I give it two very enthusiastic thumbs up for quality, appearance and value (and Gordy is not paying me to say that).

Meanwhile, back at the dining room table, am I the only one who thinks this knot in the wood looks like a head-on view of a horse?

Anyway, what do camera straps have to do with car washes?
I realized Friday night that if I was going to show you my new camera strap, I would have to take a picture of it
with my old camera, which would be going to the repair shop on Saturday because the road had finally dried up.

Saturday morning, I headed to town to catch up on a month's worth of errands which had been postponed because I couldn't get there and back "on the freeze." At last, I could shop like a normal person, instead of at 5 in the morning with all the abnormal people. And believe me when I say there are plenty of them at Walmart before the sun comes up. Anyway, there were 10 stops on my list, and the one I was most looking forward to (besides the grand opening of the first Tractor Supply store in central New Mexico) was the car wash.

I'm at the age where I'm beyond caring about what people think

and had no qualms at all about taking pictures of my truck going through the car wash.

Mr. Car Wash Supervisor: This thing is still filthy. Better take it on through again.

I don't know about carwashes in your town, but the Octopus Carwashes in Albuquerque

will run your vehicle through the wash as many times as it takes to get it clean, at no extra charge!

I love it when that happens.

Smooch was barking her head off when I drove up to the gate at the end of the day.

The truck was so clean she didn't recognize it.

Saturday encore ~ I Love Lucy, and here's why

2012-01-14T04:00:00.000-07:00

Last year at this time, through an incredible twist of fate, I met Lucy ... online.
I think I'll use the next few Saturdays to re-live the excitement of meeting her and bringing her to the 7MSN.
This sure brings back nothing but good memories for me; I hope it does for you, too.

***

Ten days ago, I told you I was 99.9% sure I had found the riding donkey of my dreams. That number has changed to 110%. She will be mine as soon as I can get her here. And I still haven't met her in person. I know...I know...some of you are shaking your heads and thinking I'm nuts. But I'm not. Allow me to introduce you to Lucy:

I edited this video from three discs' worth of footage that Lucy's mom, Estella, made and sent to me. Can we have a shout-out for Estella and her husband, Bud? The nicest people in the world whom I've never met? Estella wants only the best for Lucy, where best equals a home that's not covered in rich Colorado grass. Lucy is a very easy keeper and will do better where the pasture is poor and the exercise is abundant ... somewhere like the 7MSN.

George and Alan put on their game faces

2012-01-13T04:00:00.000-07:00

If you've been visiting here for any length of time, you're used to seeing Hank always looking handsome,

Smooch always looking alert, and Wynonna always looking like ... a pig.

The backgrounds and lighting might change, but their faces? Pretty much the same every time I post a picture.

George and Alan are a different story. They have more expressions than most people I know.

First, we have the wide-eyed look of surprise:

Followed by the teeth-baring "I'm fiercer than you" face:

Then we have the tight-lipped look of determination:

Let's not forget the "I'm adorable but I'm about to take a chunk out of his shoulder" look:

I'm not sure what to call this one:

This is Alan's "don't forget me back here, I'm cuter than him" look:

This face is all about righteous indignation:

And this one? If Alan were a person, I think he'd be shocked and awed:

Wait until dark

2012-01-12T04:00:00.000-07:00

This new camera is dangerous. It allows me take pictures in the dark – no flash required.

Daffodil used to think she could lay on the couch and watch tv,

safe from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. Not anymore.

Smooch: My couch.

Me: Smooch, it's not nice to chase Daffodil. She wasn't hurting a thing. Jealousy does not become you.

Smooch: But "Downton Abbey" is about to start and you know it's my favorite show.

Me: Mine, too, but that's beside the point.

Daffodil: You'd better put that damn dog outside before "Breaking Bad" comes on.

Snapper: My dreams are better than any of your tv shows.

Anyway, once I realized how great this camera works in the low light inside the house,

I had to take it outside after dark to see what would happen.

You're probably thinking, "it wasn't dark when she took these."

But it was. Honest. This camera magically compensates for the lack of light.

You just can't get these colors in the daytime.

So my picture-taking window of opportunity has expanded exponentially with this camera.

No more watching tv in the evenings, I'll be outside playing with my camera instead.

Except on Sunday nights.

It's tough being the only girl in the herd

2012-01-11T04:00:00.000-07:00

As usual, George and Alan's recent play session spiraled downward into a leg-pulling competition.

Alan seemed to have the upper ~~hand~~ femur this time.

Lucy: Oh, for cryin' out loud. It's not bad enough that it's snowing again.

Now I'll have to get up from my nap and break up those two knuckleheads before they hurt themselves.

George finally managed to extricate his leg from Alan's mouth,

which set off another round of here-we-go-'round-the-juniper-bush.

Only this time, Lucy was right in the thick of things.

But not for long. She knows when it's time to be gone or be run over.

Lucy: I can't get a moment's peace around here. Hrrmph.

I'm going to the tree cave. They wouldn't dare run me over in there.

Lucy: OK, maybe I was wrong.

Lucy: You, too, Hank?! Grow up! A few flakes of snow is not sufficient reason

to run around and act stupid.

Lucy: I've had it with all of you. It's like living in a frat house.

I'm going back to the barn until spring or when the snow stops, whichever comes first.

George and Alan try to out-do each other

2012-01-10T04:00:00.000-07:00

Alan: I can run really, really fast.

George: But I can run really, really fast while jumping over a tree limb.

Alan: I can contort my jaw and look fierce.

George: But I can contort my jaw, look fierce, scrunch up my nose and pin my ears.

George: I can jump above you and make a funny face.

Alan: But I can jump above you and make a funny face AND gracefully swing my front legs to and fro.

George: I can run really close to mom with my nostrils flared.

Alan: But I can run straight at mom with my nostrils flared and scare the hell out of her and make a sharp turn at the very last second.

Me: Can we all just agree that you're evenly matched and call it a day?

The calm before the storm

2012-01-09T04:00:00.000-07:00

Sunday morning dawned all nice and pretty, but a snowstorm was predicted for later in the day so Smooch and I

headed out early for a really long walk. One of these days it's going to be warm enough to ride Lucy again *sigh*.

By the time we got home, the temperature had dipped even further below 30

and Hank and the herd were tucked against the trees out of the wind.

Cold, cloudy days are good for something: the light.

My models were most cooperative as I continued to practice with the new camera.

I'm using all the same lenses that I used before – the only "new" part is the camera body.

And the rockin' new strap, but that's a subject for a whole other post.

All of these pictures were taken with a 50mm lens.

I use a zoom lens most of the time; using a prime or fixed lens is a little more work –

I have to go to my subjects instead of zooming the lens to get close to them.

My latest theory is that shooting with a fixed lens burns more calories, and that's always a good thing.

Anyway, Lucy and the boys and I were all mellow and chilling out – figuratively and literally.

My shutter-pressing finger was one degree away from frostbite, so I was about to head back to the house.

Then George and Alan exchanged looks and all hell broke loose.

And I took enough pictures to last the whole week! See you tomorrow.

The boys wake up from a long winter's nap

2012-01-08T04:00:00.000-07:00

Saturday marked the first time in over a month that the ground here was a) not covered in snow; b) frozen solid;

or c) a muddy mess. The herd took full advantage of the novel conditions and settled in for a long afternoon nap.

I can't tell you the number of times I went outside to make sure that everyone was still breathing.

I hate it when they play dead.

It was almost 3 o'clock when Alan finally began to stir.

Alan: A cup of coffee would sure taste good right about now, mom.

Alan: George, it's time to wake up. Rise and shine!

George? Are you in there? I know you can hear me.

Now get up before my nostrils explode.

George: Five more minutes – that's all I ask– then I'll get up and play.

Maybe mom will be back with the coffee by then.

Alan: You'd better watch it. Hank's getting up,

and you know how cranky he can be after a long nap.

George: But the sun feels so good, and the ground is finally warm.

Why can't you all just leave me the hell alone?

Alan: Well look who's finally hauling his lazy ass up off the ground.
It's about time.

For those of you wondering where Lucy was during naptime, scroll back up to the sixth picture, where she's casting her shadow over George.
Lucy would rather follow me around than sleep. She's such a good girl.

Saturday encore ~ Hell hath no fury like a horse scorned

2012-01-07T04:00:00.000-07:00

Me: I know you live for having your belly scratched, Hank, but enough is enough.

It's George's turn, and I've only got two hands...and one has to hold the camera.

Me: Hank, be nice...

Hank: Excuse me, but I do have seniority you know.

Me: Bad horse! Bad horse!

Hank: Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

Me: Don't try to impress me with your fancy-schmancy Latin. Go apologize to your brother.

Hank: Sorry, bro'.

George: Apology accepted. But it would carry more weight if it came with carrots.

The bouncer at the hay barn

2012-01-06T04:00:00.000-07:00

I have known for several months that an extended family of bunny rabbits has been living in my hay barn. The rabbit poop atop the hay bales is a dead giveaway, as are the chewed-through strings of twine. I curse a blue streak every time I hoist a bale of hay, only to have it burst because some darned rabbit has been gnawing on the twine. Then I come face to face with one of them and all is forgiven.

This guy is the bouncer. He guards the tarp and won't let me in unless I tell him the secret password.

He is bold and fearless...and fat. Must be all that good hay he's eating.

He is also very willing to pose for pictures.

Rabbit: I think I shall be leaving now. You're getting a little too close.

From whence did Smooch come?

2012-01-05T04:00:00.000-07:00

Someone recently asked on one post or another (and of course I can't find it now) how it came to be that Smooch joined the 7MSN family.

It was January 2006. Has it really been six years? I had just lost my sweet yellow lab Annie to bone cancer. My other elderly yellow lab, Dusty, was bereft, as was I. We both needed another dog. I went searching on petfinder.com for a puppy to join our family and located a four-month-old "possible Chihuahua mix" named Gracie at a local animal rescue. When I went to the rescue to meet her, I took her for a short walk and she seemed to like me well enough, so I brought her home.

The name "Gracie" did not suit her at all, so when I wanted her attention, I made a loud and obnoxious kissing sound and she would come to me...some of the time. After a week of trying out a litany of names, none of which felt right, I finally gave up and called her Smooch.

The name is rather genderless, and often people wrongly assume that Smooch is a he. In my mind, Smooch is neither a she or a he – Smooch is a dog, a dog's dog, a four-legged, 36-pound, fiercely loyal companion who scares the crap out of strangers, snakes and rabbits with her ferocious bark.

When Smooch is not on high alert, she is comatose. There isn't much of a middle ground.

Smooch: What was that?

Me: Nothing. Now go back to sleep.

Actually the noise she heard was the camera shutter.

Nothing gets past this dog.

Alan in the middle

2012-01-04T04:00:00.000-07:00

Alan frequently finds himself in the middle of family discussions.

He has learned it is best not to take sides.

Me: Don't look at me, Lucy. Work it out amongst yourselves.

Hank knows best

2012-01-03T04:00:00.000-07:00

Like clockwork, Hank started shedding his winter coat on December 22. One extra minute of daylight

each day is all it takes for his body to say "spring's coming, better start getting rid of this stuff."

It's a slow shed that will continue from now through April, but it makes him itchy so he rolls more.

And when he rolls now, he's usually rolling in mud. I scrape him off once a day, but after that, he's on his own.

Hank: Watch this, mom. I'm going to roll in the snow and get squeaky clean again.

Me: I wonder if I can take pictures with my eyes closed?

Watching Hank roll makes me a nervous wreck. His right front knee barely bends anymore,

and I worry that he'll make it worse getting down and back up.

But I can't stop him from being a horse and doing something he so obviously enjoys,

so I say a little prayer every time I see him go down.

Hank: I don't understand why you worry so damn much.

Hank: I've got this down to a science.

Hank: See how I stretch my bad leg out and

use my amazingly powerful and sculptured hind end to raise myself up?

Hank: Nothing to it.

Hank: Now stop being such a nervous nelly and show the nice people my finest feature.

Down the road with Smooch and Stephen King

2012-01-02T04:00:00.000-07:00

Mornings just aren't long enough in weather like this to do everything that needs doing. All the important stuff – like barn chores, walking Smooch, and going to town and back – have to be done "on the freeze," as we say. Wait too long and you risk getting into violent arguments with the muck cart, having your shoes sucked off, or your truck mired hopelessly in the mud.

Saturday morning, Smooch and I sacrificed our walk and headed to Walmart at 5:00 with three critical items on our list: a card reader to make my new camera work, a salt brick for Mr. P, and groceries. As much as I whine about Walmart, there's something to be said about being to able to buy all of the above at 6 in the morning at the only place in town that's open. Anyway, the new camera is working now,
Mr. P has another reason to hang around, and I won't go hungry this week.

Sunday morning, Smooch and I headed out on the freeze for our first walk of the year. We took Stephen King's new book "11-22-63" on my ipod. I'm not a fan of Stephen King by any stretch of the imagination, but when I read the reviews of this novel, I couldn't resist. Holy moly, what a great story. I'm about a quarter of the way through it and can't put it down.

Our first stop was Mr. P's tree. It's been a few days since I've seen him,

but he left teeth marks on the salt brick, so I know he's around.

He's also made a few more deposits in the bank at the base of his other tree.

Smooch: Mom, I think aliens are landing in the pasture.

Me: No, hon', that's just a reflection from dust on the lens.

Smooch: You need to take better care of your equipment.

Me: One conscience in this family is enough, thank you very much.

Keep your thoughts to yourself and help me look for Mr. P.

Much of the snow melted Saturday – it was a balmy 54 degrees.

It was 26 degrees Sunday when Smooch and I were walking.

Somebody had driven down the road "on the thaw" and left an impressive set of ruts.

It crossed my mind that we might find "somebody" stuck in a ditch if we walked far enough.

Alas, we made it once around the fence line, then things started to get squishy and we called it done,

which was really too bad because I wanted to stay out there for many more chapters.

Looking back

2012-01-01T04:00:00.000-07:00

2011. It was a mighty good year at the 7MSN. There were a whole lot of ups and only the occasional down. Yesterday I went back through every stinkin' post from 2011 to help me remember all the things that happened. Did you know that studies show blogging is an effective treatment for memory loss? Ok, maybe I made that up, but seriously, a huge benefit of daily blogging is being able to look back on a period of time and reminisce.

I selected one picture from every post I published in 2011 and compiled them in chronological order, more or less, in this video. Then I edited a bunch of them out because nobody in their right mind would sit through a video that long.

Thanks for sticking with me throughout the year. Your friendship means more to me than you will ever know, because I'm not very good at expressing that touchy-feely stuff. I hope some of these snippets will jog your memory as they've jogged mine, and we can smile together about the adventures we've shared this year.

Saturday encore ~ Wynonna and I wear the same size

2011-12-31T04:00:00.000-07:00

The post below, published originally on January 3, 2010, turns out to be a very popular one according to my blog statistics. And you're not going to believe why. Apparently, there are a lot of folks googling the question "What size is Wynonna?" And this is one on the places Google sends them. Imagine their surprise when they find a pig in a purple parka instead.

A blast of arctic air moved into the southwest over the weekend. The overnight temperatures have been in the single digits, and the days haven't seemed much warmer because of the blasted wind. Taking care of the animals has been my only priority.

Hank and the burros have their shaggy coats and an endless supply of hay to help keep them warm. The chickens have their feathers and a draft-free coop bedded with lots of fresh straw. And Wynonna? Her pigloo is stuffed with straw, I've been serving her hot oatmeal for breakfast, and every night before I go to bed, I go out to the barn and tuck her in under my ski parka.

The porcine princess emerges in the morning with the parka regally draped across her shoulders.

Lavender becomes her, don't you think? All that's missing is the ermine trim.

The sleeves are a bit too long, but she doesn't seem to mind,

although I did hear her grumbling that the parka wasn't long enough to cover her prodigious butt,

Hockey Steve and me | Telluride, Colorado | January 1993

which, to be honest, was the same problem I had when I wore the darned thing.

A post without a picture

2011-12-30T04:00:00.000-07:00

So there I was braggin' on my new camera yesterday. That will teach me. The darned thing stopped working. I'd barely taken a hundred pictures when I started getting scary error messages. Turns out I need to update the firmware, which requires a working card reader, which I don't happen to have. Bummer.

I hope to get this resolved quickly, but in the meantime, I will use it as an excuse to take a few days off. See you next year.

Out with the old, in with the new

2011-12-29T04:00:00.000-07:00

Anybody remember this picture of Smooch? I posted it way back in early July 2008.

It has always held a special significance for me because it was the first picture I took with my Nikon D80.

Now take a good look at this next picture so when I ask you
a couple of years from now if you remember it, you'll know why.

It is the first picture I took with my new camera

(a Nikon D7000 for anyone who cares about such things).

The D80 started getting cantankerous a few weeks ago. I think I might have worn it out. If cameras had odometers, this one may have rolled over to 200,000 miles. Anyway, rather than stop ~~taking pictures~~ breathing for a month while the camera went in for a major tune-up, I broke down and bought a new one. Once the old one is out of the shop, I'll have it as a back-up. I can even be one of those real camera geeks and wear both around my neck for important events like...like...donkey play dates and snake sightings, when rapid access to different lenses is critical.

It's going to take me awhile to figure out all the new controls and features.

Good thing Smooch doesn't charge me for modeling services.

Poopsicles

2011-12-28T04:00:00.000-07:00

My corral has been covered in snow for 27 days.

The manic manure manager in me is about to have a mental meltdown.

I diligently scoop poop from the stalls and the few bare spots where the snow has melted,

but underneath the snow and frozen to the surface are miles and miles of piles.

By late afternoon on a sunny day, some of the poopsicles have thawed enough to scoop up and cart away,

but semi-frozen poop clogs up the poop spreader. So instead of spreading the poop,

I haul the spreader out to the poop track and tip it over.

I'll run the harrow over the poop hills once the weather warms up and they thaw out.

Obviously I've been thinking way too much about equine poop lately.

I'm also reading about it:

Just when I thought I knew everything I ever needed to know about the subject, along comes this book, with instructions on how to make paper from horse poop:
1. Soak dried manure overnight.
2. Place manure in an old pillowcase and hose it down.
3. Cook the manure in soda ash for two hours.
4. Rinse well and pulverize in a kitchen blender.
The end product can now be used in a paper mold just like any other paper pulp.

I don't need another hobby, but I must say I'm intrigued. I wonder if the same technique would work to make paper out of pig poop...or porcupine poop? I could start a whole line of stationery.

This, by the way, is porcupine poop. I found the pile at the base of Mr. P's tree yesterday.

The Christmas that almost wasn't

2011-12-27T04:00:00.000-07:00

Christmas Eve morning, I hopped in my truck, determined to make it to the post office to pick up an important package. I got about a mile down the road and had to turn back. The snow drifts made the road impassable. I was crestfallen. My friends from Morning Bray Farm were supposed to come over for Christmas and there was no way for them to get through. I would have to call them and cancel the Christmas festivities. Boy, was I bummed.

But when I got home, I talked to my neighbor, who mentioned he was on his way out to try and clear the road with his tractor because he had to go to work on Monday. He would let me know later that afternoon how far he got. Around 5:00, I reported to Justina and Don that they should be able to make it...but they might want to throw a shovel, some chains, and various assorted emergency gear in their truck just in case.

So Santa Claus wasn't the only one who was busy Christmas Eve. I stayed up all night plotting strategies for digging Justina's and Don's truck out of a snow bank. But I needn't have worried. They arrived safely Christmas morning, which was the best present of all. The sun was out, the wind wasn't blowing, and we were able to carry on and do what we always do when we get together...hang out with the herd, eat, drink, and be merry.

Lucy got what she wanted for Christmas – ear rubs from Justina.

Notice George and Alan patiently waiting to receive their ~~butt rubs~~ gifts.

George and Alan mistakenly believed Santa had brought them each a chair.

George gave Justina a hug for Christmas.

And Hank gave her a kiss.

Hank and Don both wore their finest Christmas bonnets.

Don had antler envy...

...so Hank agreed to trade for awhile.

Before we sat down to dinner, we went stalking the wild porcupine.

We found plenty of tracks, but no porcupine.

Finally, it was time for dinner. Thanks for taking this photo, Justina.

The mint jelly got its own seat because I thought it was tacky have a jar on the table.

The food was plentiful and delicious, if I do say so myself, but it was not the highlight of the day.

After dinner, we went back outside to burn off some calories before dessert.

And who should we find?

Mr. P decided to join us for Christmas.

Photo by Justina.

Saturday encore ~ On the Twelfth Day of Christmas

2011-12-24T04:00:00.000-07:00

Thanks for sticking with us all year. We'd be inviting you all over to go carolling tonight if you lived a little closer

and had a snowplow on the front of your vehicle. Anyway, all of us here at the 7MSN send you our very best Christmas wishes.

xoxoxo,

LC, Smooch, Hank, George, Alan, Lucy, Wynonna, Rosebud, Daffodil, Snapper,
Clara, Peach, Eugenia, Minnie, Mr. Porcupine and the Sock Monkey.

Christmas caroling with a Sock Monkey

2011-12-23T04:00:00.000-07:00

We have my sister to ~~thank~~ blame for this one. She sent me a Sock Monkey. That sings Jingle Bells. Sort of. Squeeze his left hand and he breaks into song and wiggles around and makes me laugh so hard I can hardly stand it. Of course I had to introduce him to the whole herd. Here's what happened.

Thank you, sister, and Merry Christmas to you all.

George smells trouble

2011-12-22T04:00:00.000-07:00

George: *sniff sniff sniff*

George: I don't like the smell of this.

George: Somebody's been trespassing in our pasture.

Me: Maybe you should worry a little less about trespassers and a little more about your dental hygiene.

More fun in the fog

2011-12-21T04:00:00.000-07:00

I love fog. I love taking pictures in the fog. I can't help myself.

It must be some affliction borne of taking too many pictures with bright blue skies in the background.

Anyway, after our photo shoot near the barn Sunday morning,

the herd headed out to see if the pasture tasted any differently with fog sauce.

Alan the Intrepid took aim for the back 40.

George and Lucy picked their way to the path and followed him.

Hank: Where in the hell did everybody go this time?!

Hank: I hate it when they take off without me.

Hank: Somebody say something so I can find you!

Alan: See anything over that way?
George: Nope. See anything over that way?
Alan: Nope.
George: How much longer do you think we should stand here?

Alan: Until the fog lifts, I guess.

George: What if it doesn't?

Alan: Stop with the worrying. The sun will come out.

George: How can you be sure?

Lucy: Please make them shut up. They're spoiling the mood.

Playing peek-a-boo with a porcupine

2011-12-20T04:00:00.000-07:00

It was Sunday morning around 8:30 and Smooch and I were headed out on a walk. As we approached the gate at the end of our driveway, who should I see waddling under our fence but Mr. Porcupine. It was the first time I had seen him in the daylight, and darn it all if he wasn't the cutest little bugger. Smooch and I stood there as he slowly waddled under a tree. I politely asked him to stick around until we got back, as I wanted to take his picture.

About an hour later, Smooch and I returned, and who should we see again but Mr. Porcupine, waddling from Tree A to Tree B,
where I had seen him once before and suspected he lived. I took Smooch into the house, retrieved my camera, and went back outside
searching for Mr. Porcupine.

Hello, Mr. Porcupine. Remember me?

The nice lady who didn't shoot you about a month ago?

I don't mind you living in this tree as long as you promise

to keep your distance from Smooch and everybody else who lives here.

Mr. Porcupine: Were you really going to shoot me?

Me: It was an option...but then I did my homework and learned what a docile creature you can be

as long as you're not threatened. And then I saw this video.

You just darned well better behave yourself so that all those folks out there

who are ready to say "I told you so" don't get the opportunity. Deal?

Mr. Porcupine: Deal.

Because snow, rain and mud weren't interesting enough

2011-12-19T04:00:00.000-07:00

Mother Nature: I've given New Mexico lots of snow and rain lately.

I think I'll throw in a little frozen fog to break up the monotony.

Me: Gee, thanks...for a great photo opportunity!

Smooch had no idea what to make of the frozen fog.

Neither did Lucy, though it didn't interfere with her appetite.

Lucy: What's going on here, mom? It's kind of hard to see.

Me: Don't fret, Lucy. You are beautiful in any weather...though it does appear you're working a little frizz today.

Hank: Everything looks different.

George: Everything sounds different.

Alan: Everything smells different.

Me: Different is good. We need to embrace different. Different makes this blog more interesting.

Hank: I prefer same and boring, thank you very much.

Alan from all directions as the sun sets

2011-12-18T04:00:00.000-07:00

Saturday encore ~ On the sixth day of Christmas

2011-12-17T04:00:00.000-07:00

I don't know if it's the sixth day of Christmas or not. Who's in charge of these things anyway?

All I know is that I can't let this post go to waste because I spent most of last December trying to put it together.

Here's a reprise of the first six verses of the song. Come back next Saturday and we'll sing the whole thing.

***

Time to eat ... again

2011-12-16T04:00:00.000-07:00

I took these pictures last evening, when I went out to feed everybody their dinner.

I realize they don't look too excited about the prospect of food – they were too busy concentrating on not slipping in the mud.

Georgie asked yesterday how often I put feed out for the gang. Typically during the winter I serve them grass hay four times a day –

breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a bedtime snack. Digesting the hay generates heat within their bodies and helps them stay warm.

We're going through about 70 pounds of hay per day right now – that's about one and a quarter bales.

Hank eats more than his share, as it should be. He needs the extra calories to dance around the pasture and levitate.

During the summer, if there's enough pasture grass to keep them busy, I don't feed them any hay at all.

We're all looking forward to the return of those days.

The art and science of watering livestock in winter

2011-12-15T04:00:00.000-07:00

If you're a horsekeeper and you live in a place where winter temperatures drop below freezing, then I would be willing to bet that your least favorite chore this time of year is watering. Dealing with the ice, the hose, the frozen hands... I shiver at the thought. I happened to be chatting with a reader this week about this very subject and she suggested I should blog about it. Hi, Sue in Montana! In the years I've been horsekeeping in winter, I've learned a few tricks that have helped make this chore less onerous for me. I thought I'd share them with you today. If you've got any winter watering tips to add, feel free to shout' em out in the comments!

Location, location, location. Having a frost-free water source in close proximity to your water trough is a life-saver.

Having water-obsessed chickens to keep you entertained while you fill your troughs is a bonus.

It's also important to wear insulated gloves while using a hose in winter. Do as I say, not as I do.

Here I'm wearing my camera-using mittens, so my hose-hand is freezing. The sacrifices we bloggers must make...

I'm not sure what these hose-end valve things are called,

but I find they work better than nozzles year 'round for filling troughs.

The shorter the hose, the better – so very easy to drain.

Dad always says to use the right tool for the job. I've found that a hammer works best for breaking ice.

Here are some things that I've learned do not work as well: plastic manure forks, fists, pointy-toed boots.

It's best to do all watering during the warmest and sunniest part of the day.

You're more likely to have help.

Once all troughs, pails, and bowls are topped off, disconnect the hose.

Make it a habit and don't ever forget to do it. If you fail to properly drain the hose and the hose freezes to the spigot,

you will still be able to use the spigot to fill a pail and top off your troughs the hard way.

During the winter, I do not roll up my long hose. Instead, I take it for a walk and stretch it out to drain.

Eugenia and Minnie always accompany me. Have I mentioned my chickens are obsessed with water?

The yard slopes just enough to allow the hose to drain reasonably well via gravity.

When I know the overnight temperatures will drop really low, I take extra precautions to make sure the hose is completely drained.

This involves going back to the point of origin, raising the hose high above my head,

then slowly "walking the hose" until I reach the end.

When I get to the end, I can count on the chickens being there to supervise as the water drains.

Once the hose is disconnected and drained, I always cover the handle of the frost-free with a pail.

Freezing rain and snow can render the handle inoperable unless it's protected. (But if you forget this step,

I've found that a dishrag soaked in hot water, then wrapped around the handle, will thaw it out pretty quickly.)

Access to fresh water in winter is crucial to an equine's health, so seeing my herd

slurping up the fruits of my labor makes me forget the freezing fingers.

p.s. This post came about because of a reader's comment. I am always looking for things to write about

and your suggestions are most welcome. Leave them in the comments or send me an e-mail. Thanks!

The one where Hank tries to give us all a heart attack

2011-12-14T04:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the dreariest day I can remember since moving to New Mexico 18 years ago. The temperature hovered around 40, the sun never came out, and it rained. All. Stinkin'. Day. The rain helped melt the snow, which has been covering the ground for 12 days, but it also turned the entire ranch into a great big, sloppy quagmire.

Lucy, Alan and George had the good sense to stay in the barn.

Hank did not.

George: You really should go out there and convince him to take shelter.

Alan: He might catch a cold or something.

Me: I don't suppose one of you wants to carry the umbrella so I don't get drenched?

Me: I didn't think so.

So out I trudged out into the corral, slipping and sliding and sinking in the muck,

to try and talk some sense into Hank.

Hank: Hi, mom! Isn't it a beautiful day? Life is good!

Me: Easy there, Hank. We don't need you to be falling down and hurting yourself.

Hank: Lighten up! Lose the camera and kick up your heels! This is fun!

Lucy: He's gone off the deep end. I'm outta here.

Hank: Bad knee? What bad knee? I feel great!

Alan: Run for your life, Lucy. He's lost his freakin' mind.

Lucy: Horses are so weird. No common sense whatsover.

Me: Hank, come down to earth, would ya? You're scaring me.

Hank: Chill, mom. I've never felt so good.

Hank: How do you like me now, osteoarthritis?

Hank: Take your "equine senior" feed and stick it where the sun don't shine.

Hank: Give me a little credit, mom. I know my limits.
Me: I want to believe you, Hank, really I do.
But gray hair isn't good for my self-esteem, so cut the crap.

The smartest cookie in the jar

2011-12-13T04:00:00.000-07:00

Ahh...the good old days, back when the ground was dry, the solar water tank was shiny and new, and the equines drank from it contentedly, saving me beaucoup bucks in electricity. All that came to an abrupt halt after the first snowstorm of the season. There was so much snow and wind that the float froze to the inside of the solar tank. No big deal. One whomp with my fist and the float came unstuck. But in preparation for the impending second snowstorm of the season, I did as the tank instructions suggested and sprayed the edges of the float with cooking spray. Sure enough, the float didn't stick to the tank and I was one happy rancher...until I realized that the equines weren't drinking any water. Yikes!

I quickly set up an electric water bucket so that everybody would stay happy and hydrated while I figured out why they would no longer drink from the solar tank. The mystery wasn't that hard to solve. It had to be the smell or residue of the cooking spray in the water. Ok, maybe I wasn't supposed to use butter-flavored cooking spray, but that was all I had! Still, these are the same equines that drink out of mud puddles and eat cholla cactus. What's the big deal over a little butter-flavored cooking spray in the water? Doesn't everybody like butter? Apparently not.

So for seven miserable sub-zero days, I refilled that 5-gallon electric bucket at least 100 times while the fresh, albeit slightly oily, water in the solar tank went untouched. When the temperature finally broke 35 on Sunday, I drained and scrubbed the solar tank to remove every last molecule of butter-flavored cooking spray.

But would they drink from it? Hell no. Here is George with 70 gallons of fresh water in a stock tank to his left,

25 gallons of fresh water in the solar tank to his right, and he's licking on an iceberg. Maddening. Just maddening.

It was then that I realized I would have to convince everybody that the water

in the newly scrubbed and refilled solar tank was worth drinking again.

And the only way to do that would be to bribe them.

Witness the bribe – one very enticing, fragrant "Dobbin's Delights" horse cookie, placed on the edge of the float.

George sees the cookie. George wants the cookie. George can't figure out how to get the cookie.

Alan sees the cookie. Alan wants the cookie.

Lucy sees me and sticks her big snout in the picture.

Alan is the smart cookie and is on the correct side of the fence to grab it.

Me: No need to look guilty, Alan.

Me: It's not your fault that George is...how shall we say...a slow learner.

My heart leapt with joy as Alan went back to the solar tank, tipping the float and drinking the water

in hopes that another cookie might appear.

Hank was the next to catch on to the cookie bribe, while George watched from the sidelines.

Lucy: I know if I stand here long enough you'll give me a cookie and I won't have to work for it and get my nose wet.

Me: I hate it when you're right.

Anyway, the cookie-training is starting to work. The water level in the solar tank went down a little bit on Monday, so somebody is drinking out of it. Still, I'm wondering what I could use to flavor the water to make it irresistible ... carrot juice? Apple juice? Anything except butter.

Silly reindeer games

2011-12-12T04:00:00.000-07:00

There I was, innocently shopping online for a tick collar for Smooch,

when I saw it – the must-have equine accessory of the season. On sale.

What can I say? I'm a sap for equine headwear.

Especially the kind that lights up.

Sure, the antlers like a pair of alien hands from the rear view, but who cares?

I knew the minute I saw these that I could play some silly reindeer games with my herd

and this blog would live to see another day.

One of these things is not like the other.

Me: Lucy, dear, could you look up for a second, please?

Lucy: In a minute. A reindeer's got to eat, you know.

I've got to bulk up for that big job I've got lined up on the 24th.

Santa: Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Lucy!

On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner! And Goosey!

Let us all be thankful that I don't write Christmas carols for a living.

Lucy: If I'm going to wear these, I want top billing.

Lucy: Not one word out of you, shortstuff.

The only thing better than one reindeer hat is two reindeer hats, and, yes, I bought a pair.

We'll see if ~~Donner and Blitzen~~ Alan and George can get with the program in time for the big day.

George and Lucy get on each other's nerves

2011-12-11T04:00:00.000-07:00

In the week since winter rudely arrived last weekend,

Lucy and the boys haven't had much to do except stand around, eat...

...and get on each other's nerves.

Saturday encore ~ You know you live in the middle of nowhere when...

2011-12-10T04:00:00.000-07:00

This post is from January 2010, but it could easily be from today because I'm leaving the ranch at dawn to run errands and get home before the road turns to slop. But I'm not complaining. The checkout lines at Walmart are short at 7 a.m.

***

You know you live in the middle of nowhere when you leave for the grocery store before the sun comes up

so that you can get back home before the road thaws out and turns to mud.

But it's worth it because you get to see the day break,

and how many people get to see this on their way to Walmart anyway?

The fence is the star this time

2011-12-09T04:00:00.000-07:00

Usually I try to keep fences out of my photographs. The animals are the stars, afterall.

But yesterday I got an unusual phonecall. From France. The caller happened to be looking at the pictures on this blog and also happened to be a VP with Horseguard, the manufacturer of the electric fence that surrounds the 7MSN. She was wondering if she might use some of my pictures on their website and in their catalog.

"Oui, oui!" I said. I'm making that up. I actually said, "Sure!" International exposure for mes animaux...why not? She mentioned a few of the images she particularly liked and asked if I had any pictures of my fence in the snow. I said I've got plenty of snow right now and I would take one. Once the pictures are up on their website, of course I'll let you know, as long as you promise not to tell four certain equines whose heads are too big already.

Speaking of plenty of snow, this stuff just will not go away. It's unusual for us to get dumped on in the first place, but for the snow to stick around for a week is practically unheard of. I went on a reconnaissance mission yesterday afternoon in the Ranger to see if getting out to the highway would be an option any time soon.

Amazingly, the county had come through and plowed the road – a first! The drifts were pretty ridiculous. As long as the temperatures stay below freezing, getting out will be easy. The real fun starts when all this turns to mud.

Another edition of "making burros better through technology"

2011-12-08T04:00:00.000-07:00

I took this picture of George and Alan yesterday.

Their eyes, their ears, their muzzles, the stripes on George's legs, their penetrating expressions...be still my heart.

But everything else about this photograph? Not so good.

First there's the problem of Hank's leg popping out of George's neck.

Then there's the flat, cold light. And I didn't have a chance to de-goober Alan's eye...I could go on and on.

As it happens, I've been studying up on Photoshop for my paying job, trying to perfect my technique

for dropping out backgrounds, so I decided to practice on this image to see if I could salvage it.

That's better. No more distractions.

Now I know there are purists among you who might prefer the original,

but I'll take the photoshopped version any day.

Let's take a poll...

Roll your mouse over the image above to compare the photoshopped to the original version.

Continuing Education

2011-12-07T04:00:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I noticed an announcement on Facebook about a free webcast called "The Feeding and Care of Mules and Donkeys." It was being offered through Michigan State University's "My Horse University" program. Since the presenter was a veterinarian and I'm a sponge for all things donkey, I registered and took the class last night.

I had never participated in a webcast like this before, and now I'm thinking I've got a lot of catching up to do. The things you can learn without ever having to leave your house! For free! This internet is amazing.

I was able to listen to the presenter and follow along with the slides. It was just like being in a classroom. One of my fellow donketeers and I even set up a chat room so we could pass notes without the teacher catching us. Hi, Danni!

Having cared for donkeys for awhile now, I was familiar with alot of the information, but there were a few eye-opening tidbits that I thought I'd share since many of you are horse and/or donkey owners.

Like this one. There are almost as many donkeys and mules in the world as there are horses. Who knew?

I also learned that it is not uncommon for donkeys to eat plants high in tannins, and tannin is often found in plants that are drought-resistant. I think this might explain why George, Alan and Lucy love to eat cholla cactus, but I'll have to do a little more research to be sure.

And this other thing that I learned is something I've wondered about from the moment I brought George and Alan home. Justina has wondered about it. Danni has wondered about it. Any of you with male donkeys has probably wondered about it. There are these certain mysterious parts of a male donkey's anatomy that ... well ... are kind of weird and I've always wondered what they were. Now I know.

Just in case you're viewing this on a small monitor, let me repeat that for you.

"Teats are found on the sheath of male donkeys."

How weird is that? If I can figure out a tasteful way to photograph this for you some day, I will. For now, you'll have to trust me that they're there. Unfortunately, the Q&A session at the end of the webcast wasn't long enough and I didn't get a chance to ask if they served a practical purpose. The presenter did give us her e-mail address, though. Inquiring minds need to know.

At least Hank was having a good time

2011-12-06T04:00:00.000-07:00

No pretty snow pictures today. Nope. Today we've got video - raw, stark, frozen-fingers video.

When last we spoke, the weatherman was predicting heavy snow and single-digit temperatures for Monday. He was right again. The snow started anew just before I went to sleep Sunday night. My inner worrier woke me up hourly to look out the window. The snow kept falling, the wind kept howling, and I kept hoping that my herd had the sense to stay in the barn. When daylight finally rolled around, I found Lucy, George and Alan peacefully huddled in one stall and Hank running around the corral like an idiot having the time of his life. That pattern repeated itself throughout the day.

I kept my Flip cam in my pocket and tried to capture all the ~~misery~~ fun, indoors and out. So without further ado, here is Monday at the 7MSN:

We were hoping for a big meltdown

2011-12-05T04:00:00.000-07:00

One day of snowscapes is pretty. Two days is one too many.

We were hoping for a big meltdown on Sunday but it didn't happen.

The sun was bright, the sky was blue, but the temperature was cold.

I felt obligated to take snow pictures, if for no other reason than it adds a little variety to the contents of this blog.

But taking snow pictures is not fun. You might even say it's for the birds.

An entire family of bunnies has taken up residence in the hay barn.

This one let me get so close that I suspected he was frozen stiff.

He dove under the barn a nanosecond after I snapped this.

As I tried to stand up, it was I who was frozen stiff.

The chickens want nothing to do with the snow and spent the weekend huddled in their stall.

I have no picture to show you of Wynonna. She refused to come out of her pigloo to pose.

Hank and his herd are hanging close to the barn,

soaking up the sun while they can and spending all their energy staying warm.

I keep reminding myself that equines readily adapt to winter temperatures
as long as they have shelter, plenty of hay, and unfrozen water.
Still, it makes me feel better to share my warm scarf with Miss Lucy.

Estella asked yesterday if I rode in the winter. Why, yes, I do...
when there's no snow on the ground, no wind, and the temperature is at least 45.
I did not ride this weekend. Call me a wuss. I won't be offended.

Smooch remains on security patrol regardless of the weather,

but even she is getting bored with all this white stuff.
I've warned her that she'd better get used to it.

It's my forecast and I'll whine if I want to.

The 7MSN just isn't supposed to look like this.

Hank puts his tongue to the test

2011-12-04T04:00:00.000-07:00

The snow started coming down Friday afternoon, just as the weatherman had predicted.

I hate it when he's right.

Hank and his herd seemed to take it in stride.

After Thursday's wicked winds, what's a few inches of snow?

By Saturday morning, the few inches had accumulated to a few more.

Yes, it was pretty, but it was also very cold and wet, and there are only 108 days left until spring.

Hank: That snow looks just like powder on a doughnut. I wonder if it tastes just as good...

Hank: Uh oh. I think my thongue ith thuck to the pipe.

Hank: Whew. Close call.

Hank: Tastes pretty good but I'd prefer a Krispy Kreme.

(Roll your mouse between the margin and the picture to watch Hank eat his imaginary doughnut.)

Saturday encore ~ Catching Snowflakes

2011-12-03T04:00:00.000-07:00

As I'm sifting through posts from Decembers gone by to find something suitable for an encore post, the snow is coming down relentlessly.

I wish it would stop. I also wish Lucy and the boys would take shelter in the barn and that the sun would come out and it would be 70 degrees. Since none of that is likely to happen, I'll re-post this picture to give you a taste of what it's like in New Mexico today.

***

Lucy graduates summa cum laude from Elf Academy

2011-12-02T04:00:00.000-07:00

Two years ago, I enrolled the whole herd in Elf Academy. They all studied hard, did their homework and passed.

I couldn't have been prouder. You might have noticed their graduation pictures at the top of this blog.

(Click these links if you'd like to look back at elf class with George, Alan, Hank, Smooch, and Wynonna.)

Yesterday, it was Lucy's turn to take the class.
Her fear of polyester fur was quickly overcome by her fondness for fashion.

Me: Lucy, my dear, you are going to look stunning in red.

Lucy: Can we paint my hooves to match?

Me: Let's get this on first, then we'll worry about the rest of the outfit.

Lucy: I hear these are all the rage with donkeys in Paris.

George: Fashion-smashion. I think she looks like a joke...er.

Alan: Maybe, but I'll bet her ears are warm.

Lucy: May I have a cape to complete the outfit? With an ermine collar?

Some pearls might look nice, too.

Every chicken palace needs a doorman

2011-12-01T04:00:00.000-07:00

Back in late October, when the chicken palace was finally done...or so I thought,

I ended up extending the height of the fence that separates the chickens from the pig.

Eugenia insisted on jumping over the original fence to visit Wynonna and peck the dry skin off her back.

It was gross. Anyway, Danni was visiting at the time, and she helped me build the addition.

We made it out of some scrap pieces of wire fence panel, which turned out to be a perfect solution.

The solid fence at the bottom protects Wynonna from the pecking chickens, and the see-through fence at the top

lets the sun shine through but keeps Eugenia where she belongs.

We made a hole in the wire panel so that I could open the gate latch from the chicken side of the fence.

This worked fine until the weather got cold and I started wearing my bulky barn coat to do chores.

I thought about making the hole bigger but worried that Eugenia would use it as an escape route.

Danni suggested I tie a weighted string to the latch so that I could simply pull the string to open the gate from the other side.

So I did. But what could I use as a weight for the other end of the string?
Hmm. I looked around at many boring options before I found this...

...a leftover Halloween decoration which was in keeping with the whole cow skull vibe.
Meet Igor the Doorman.

Roll your mouse between the margin and the picture and watch Igor open the gate.

Igor does a very good job. And there's no pressure to tip him at Christmas time.

Will jump on furniture for cookies

2011-11-30T04:00:00.000-07:00

My dog cracks me up. Every. Single. Day.

The next video was brought to my attention by Pat and Jim. Hi, Pat and Jim! It cracks me up almost as much as Smooch does...ok, maybe more. Let this be a warning to the next 7MSN house guest: we will be trying to re-create something similar. Can't you just picture Smooch drinking a margarita and noshing on chips and salsa?

George and Alan put on their game faces

2011-11-29T04:00:00.000-07:00

It starts as an innocent game of tag.

Alan: Hey! That's gonna leave a bruise. Cut it out.

George: Missed, darn it.

George: Got him that time.

George: I smell victory.

The face of a champion.

A lesson to be learned

2011-11-28T04:00:00.000-07:00

It was Saturday, late afternoon. I had just spent several hours piecing together a music video of a pigeon

I had known for only a week and needed a break, so I went out to the barn.

Yes, I was secretly hoping Amelia would have magically returned and was fully prepared to scrap the whole video if she had.

We were all in a funk. I climbed around the rafters just in case
a pigeon might have gone unnoticed in one of the corners. No such luck.

Me: Hank, even caked with mud you're handsome.

I'm sorry I didn't brush you today.

Me: What's everybody looking at? Is she back?

Me: Damn. Just a bunch of cows. *sigh*

The last time I posted about cows, June commented: So . . . let me get this straight. All these cows just wander all over the place and then somebody eventually goes out and rounds them up when it's time for . . . whatever?

That's about the gist of it. The rancher I bought this land from still runs his cows up here. They're registered black angus. He sells off a bunch every year and they end up on a steak-house menu. Hence we've disciplined ourselves to not get attached to them. There's a lesson to be learned there.

Free Bird

2011-11-27T04:00:00.000-07:00

I called Amelia's owner in Arizona to let him know to be on the lookout for her.He says he'll call me when she gets there. Let's hope her GPS works better going in that direction.Or better yet, let's hope she gets to the New Mexico/Arizona border and turns right back around.

Saturday encore ~ Confessions of a Pumpkin Hoarder

2011-11-26T04:00:00.000-07:00

Have you recovered from your Thanksgiving dinner? I haven't. I'm still in the mood for food...particularly orange food. Blame it on the twice-baked sweet potatoes with chipotle pecan streusel. The secret ingredient in that recipe was the chipotle chile powder, which my Walmart in the middle of nowhere had on the shelf, much to my delight. It's my new favorite spice, and I can't wait to add it to the soup below the next time I make it. Which just might be today.

***

I found this soup recipe on Tasty Kitchen last winter, and it is so easy, delicious, comforting, elegant ... ok I'll stop now... because I could go on and on and on about how wonderful this soup is. Here's the link to the recipe. It's called Velvet Pumpkin Soup. I won't bore you with step-by-step pictures and instructions. Basically, you sauté some onions in a pot, add a few spices, dump in some chicken stock, canned pumpkin, and evaporated milk, and you're done. The key to the soup, as far as I'm concerned anyway, is the velvety texture. The recipe says you can puree it in a blender in batches, or not. I've tried it pureed and I've tried it chunky – pureed is definitely the way to go, except for the getting-the-blender dirty part, when you have to clean the blender and all the vessels and utensils you've dirtied transferring the soup from the pot to the blender and back again. Anyway, I made this soup so often last winter that I decided it was high time to buy one of these:

An immersion blender. I am normally not a gadget person, but this thing has become more of a necessity in my kitchen than a gadget. I may never use my regular blender again. Why disassemble, clean, and reassemble a blender when you can just eject the end of this thing and rinse it off?

I haven't used it to blend margaritas, only because I never thought of it until just now, but I'll bet it would do the trick. It might even mash potatoes. Heck, you could probably stir paint with it if you washed it off real good.

But getting back to the soup recipe... I learned a very important lesson last winter once I started making it, and I learned it the hard way. Grocery stores do not stock the main ingredient (canned pumpkin) year round. It is only available from about October through January. After that, you cannot find it on the shelves - at least in New Mexico, you can't. So if you do make this soup and fall in love with it (and I'm betting you will), start stocking up now.

A girl can never have too much land or too much pumpkin in her pantry. And you can quote me on that.

The 21-ingredient, triple-chocolate p.i.t.a. pumpkin pie

2011-11-24T08:38:00.000-07:00

I had planned to live-blog during the making of this Martha Stewart pie today.

Then I happened to read the recipe last night and noticed the part where it said "chill overnight."

In the end, I'm glad I didn't try to bake and blog simultaneously because

it got kind of ugly for a while and there was way too much stress involved.

When all was said and done, it turned out quite nicely. And that's a very good thing.

Because I would be really embarassed to show up for Thanksgiving dinner without a pie in hand.

Giving thanks...for a pigeon?

2011-11-23T04:00:00.000-07:00

Amelia is still here, and I'm seriously over-the-top happy that she's chosen to stay for at least another day.

When I went out to the barn Tuesday morning, she was right where I left her Monday night, perched above the feed room.

Then the sun came up and the whole neighborhood came out to greet her.

I took the picture above out my office window around 7:30.

That's Amelia sitting atop the pipe rail, looking down over the chickens and five doves.

There are three more doves perched on the roof.

Where did all these doves come from?

Whoever said doves were lonesome needs to visit the 7MSN.

Amelia seemed a little surprised by all the fuss being made over her arrival (that's her standing closest to Eugenia).

I can only hope that all these new friends are enough to entice her to stay permanently.

Amelia's presence is alot like those glory days when Deets was here – she doesn't have to stick around, but the fact that she does makes me smile so big my face hurts. This is going to sound ridiculous as soon as I type it, but I'm feeling honored because a pigeon has chosen to live here, if only temporarily, and I'll be adding "pigeon" to my list of things to be thankful for tomorrow.

Speaking of which, tomorrow somebody might be live-blogging her attempts to make Martha Stewart's Triple Chocolate Pumpkin Pie and the Cookin' Canuck's Twice-Baked Sweet Potatoes with Chipotle Pecan Streusel. It could get ugly, but then again it might be fun. Until then, all of us at the 7MSN wish you a very blessed Thanksgiving.

Walter Pigeon makes a wrong turn over Arizona

2011-11-22T04:00:00.000-07:00

Alan: Mom, there's a pigeon in our yard.

Me: That can't be a pigeon. What would a pigeon be doing way out here?

Alan: Beats the hell out of me.

We first noticed the pigeon Sunday morning. Didn't give it too much thought at the time. He walked around the corral

for awhile, flew off, and that was that. But then he showed up again a few hours later...and a few hours after that.

When he showed up again Monday morning, I deemed his appearance blog-worthy and started taking pictures.

I was surprised by how close I could get to him. Then one time I got too close...

...and he took off. I figured I'd never see him again and so much for that blog post.

I downloaded the pictures anyway and gasped when I realized what I had been missing because
I can't wear my glasses when I'm taking pictures. Scroll up two photos. Do you see it?

Now do you see it? My pigeon was wearing an ID bracelet! I rushed back outside to see if I could find him. And there he was in the barn.

Maybe I could get some close-ups of the leg band... maybe I could find out who he belonged to...

...maybe I would fall in love with a pigeon. Isn't he gorgeous?

Who knew pigeons had perfectly shaped hearts above their beaks?

Already Lucy is jealous.

So umpteen photos later, taken at every possible angle, I was able to piece together all the writing on Walter's leg band.
It was a 13-digit code that included the letters "AU."
A little sleuthing on Google, one e-mail and a phone call later, I was talking to Walter's owner.

Walter's owner races pigeons. He released Walter in Globe, Arizona (Point A below) on Saturday.
Walter was supposed to fly 75 miles home to Safford, Arizona (Point B below).
Walter made a wrong turn.

How or why a navigationally challenged racing pigeon ended up at the 7MSN will remain a mystery.

Walter's owner is baffled by his pigeon's behavior. Apparently it's been a strange year for pigeons.

This is the first time he's had one fly so far off course. He thinks his pigeon might fly home to Arizona once it eats and rests for awhile.

He also told me that Walter is a hen. I've since named her Amelia.

Amelia is now roosting above the feed room in the barn. I've told her owner that I would call him

if she leaves so he can be on the lookout for her, but I'm hoping she'll decide to stay.

She's got food, water, lots of company, and 15 minutes of fame on a blog. What more could a pigeon want?

Patrolling the palace grounds

2011-11-21T04:00:00.000-07:00

It's been about a month since the girls moved into the Chicken Palace. I might be a little biased here, but it seems to me that they love it. Housing them in the barn has made chicken-keeping very convenient for me; it also means I get to spend a lot more time with them.

Me: Girls, the sun's up. Get your butts out here.

Eugenia: If we wanted an alarm clock, we'd get a rooster.

The chickens share the front yard with Wynonna.

To keep the peace, I turn the girls out in the morning, then Wynonna gets the afternoon shift.

Eugenia is the head hen and queen of her domain,

and Minnie is heir to the throne. Clara and Peach have been relegated to ladies in waiting.

They all act like divas, but who am I to complain when they keep me supplied with eggs?

Me: What do you think, Minnie? These might add to your star power.

Minnie: I'd prefer a pair with rhinestones.

Calling Central Casting

2011-11-20T04:00:00.000-07:00

New Mexico has become quite the hot spot for the film industry. They call us Tamale-wood, you know.

Not a week goes by when there isn't a casting call for extras in some movie or tv series being produced nearby.

I happened to mention this fact to the herd yesterday.

Lucy: Have them call my agent.

Lucy: If they've got a role for a leading lady, I might be interested.

Hank: I'll take any part that George Clooney turns down. I'm just as handsome.

Hank: Just make sure I get top billing and 10% of the gross.

Oh – and no nude scenes and only yellow M&Ms in my dressing room.

Alan: Are these sunglasses too pretentious?

I don't want to look like I'm trying too hard.

Alan: I can see myself on the red carpet ...

waving to my adoring fans, signing autographs, being interviewed on Entertainment Tonight...

George: ...looking like an ass.

George: I am so ready for my close-up.

George: The camera loves me.

Smooch: Are you sure this is how Lassie got her big break?

A very special thanks to Costume Designer Norma for outfitting the herd.

Saturday encore ~ Things that go thumpa-thumpa-thumpa in the night

2011-11-19T04:00:00.001-07:00

As big as the New Mexico sky is, you'd think these guys could find a better place to fly

than directly over the 7MSN. But no.

I was out at the barn feeding the boys Sunday evening when I heard them coming. I kept looking in the direction of the noise but didn't see anything. Minutes passed, the noise kept getting louder, I still didn't see anything, but I went to get my camera.

When they got into my air space, I had plenty of time to snap pictures ... they weren't moving very fast.

What could they be doing and where could they be going on a Sunday night?

They turned southeast as soon as they passed over the barn.

I'm convinced they use my shiny metal roof as a landmark. I can hear the conversation now...

Chopper Pilot #1: Let's go buzz that roof.

Chopper Pilot #2: What for?

Chopper Pilot #1: I hear there's a pair of cute asses down there.

George and Alan call a truce...sort of

2011-11-18T04:00:00.000-07:00

It's impossible for George and Alan to stay mad at each other for very long.

One minute they're giving each other the flaring nostril treatment...

...the next minute, they're doing the whole mutual grooming thing...

...though grooming looks suspiciously like chewing when Alan sinks his teeth into it.

How can that not hurt?

Alan: A little to the right, please. That's the spot. Now a little to the left...

Alan: Blechh. Somebody needs a bath.

Alan: Where are you going, George?

Alan: Was it something I said?

Alan: I was just kidding about the bath comment.

Alan: You can stop throwing your considerable weight around now.

George: And he wonders why I get mad at him.

George and Alan aren't on speaking terms

2011-11-17T04:00:00.000-07:00

I don't know who said what to whom. All I know is that two burros were in a total snit yesterday.

Even with my widest lens, I could barely get them both in the frame.

I may have overheard Alan saying something about this ranch not being big enough for both of them.

Whatever the cause of their spat, I'm sure it's just temporary and they will be attached at the hip

the next time I look out the window, just as they were when I took the picture below back in August 2009.

This is still my all-time favorite picture of my BLM boys.

I couldn't have done it without you

2011-11-16T04:00:00.000-07:00

Once I narrowed down a year's worth of photographs to 12, I was toast. There was no way I could pick one for the cover. That's where you came in. Thank you to everyone who weighed in. Your opinions matter here, and when you said things like:
...captures the essence of 7MSN
...imparts the sense of "seven miles south of nowhere"
...says it all without a face but rather the iconic image
...Hank IS the leader so he should 'lead' off the calendar
...it symbolizes the beauty of the choice you made many years ago...

Who could argue with all of that? Not me. So without further ado, here is the cover of the 2012 calendar:

And here is the link where you can purchase one. One calendar will cost you around $12.50 plus $4.00 shipping. Place your order between now and December 18 and you can save 15% by entering the code NINECAL at the checkout page.

But who cares about any of that? You all came back here today to see if you won one of these things.

There were 179 entries in the contest, and the all-powerful Random Integer Generator selected comment number 22 as the calendar winner.

And guess who commenter 22 is...

None other than Estella from Co., also known as Lucy's Before Mom!

I couldn't have rigged that if I tried.

Estella, a calendar will be working its way to you in the near future. You can skip right to January, February, September and November for close-ups of the best saddle donkey in the universe.

There will be a link at the bottom of this page through December if you'd like to preview or order the calendar.

There's a science to wood stacking...who knew?

2011-11-14T04:00:00.000-07:00

The Firewood Delivery Man (also known as my imaginary serial killer) dumped off two cords of firewood in late September. God bless him. That was one less thing for me to do, and it turned out he wasn't a serial killer after all. How lucky can a girl get?

Anyway, the wood has sat in a great big pile out by the hay barn since then, minding its own business. I have not been compelled to stack it because: a) I'm not lacking for space so it can take up as much room as it wants, b) nobody but me will ever see the pile and deem me a lazy slacker, so c) what's the point?

Then a porcupine came into my life and I started wondering about where he might live. He wouldn't jump out of the pile one day when I unsuspectingly went to fetch a load. Or wood he? Erring on the side of caution, I decided it would be a good idea to stack the wood, the better to see any porcupines, packrats or other perpetrators living within.

With my decision made, I proceeded to procrastinate because stacking wood was not on my top 10 list of things I wanted to do Sunday afternoon. I turned to my favorite procrastination device, the internet, to see if there was a right way or a wrong way to stack firewood. Wouldn't you know it? There is a Science of Wood Stacking. I so did not need to know that.

"Firewood dumped in a heap won't dry and it won't burn well blah blah blah rain will soak into the cut ends blah blah blah ground moisture will soak into the inner bark." Alright! Alright! I'll stack it!

But then I read about the Shaker round woodpile. "It will keep your wood dry and dazzle the neighbors."

Won't those cows be impressed, I thought. And maybe this could be kind of fun.

Witness the Shaker round woodpile:

photo courtesy of Brookline Renewable Energy Source

Silly me thought it might be fun to stack two cords of wood into a pretty, even, symmetrical cylinder.

Silly me needs to have her head examined.

Three hours later, I had one and a half not-so-pretty, lopsided, asymmetrical cylinders of wood.
But at least I no longer have a prodigious porcupine proving ground.

***

You've got until Tuesday at 7pm Mountain time to weigh in on which pin-up girl or boy should grace the cover
of the 2012 7MSN Ranch calendar. Click here to review your choices and cast your vote.

Calendar by committee...and a chance to win one

2011-11-13T04:00:00.000-07:00

There are many reasons why I dislike the month of November. Chief among them are short days, cold nights, and the pressure to decide which photographs to include in the coming year's calendar.

If you've been hanging out around here for the last three years, you already know about the annual calendar. If you're a new reader, there's not much to tell other than I publish a calendar with favorite photographs from the previous year's blog posts and make it available for whomever wants to buy one. No big deal. No sales pitch. I'm not in it to make money. It's just that some people have come to enjoy and expect being able to write their appointments under one of my photographs (Hi, Mom and Dad!). So as long as I'm publishing calendars for my family, I might as well make them available to my extended family (Hi, everybody who reads this blog!).

The 2012 calendar will be available through Lulu.com, an online book and calendar company that does really nice work. It will cost around $15, including shipping. I will post the link as soon it's finished, which should be this Wednesday. There's one outstanding decision to be made about the calendar, and for that I need your help. Which photograph should appear on the cover? Will you help me decide?

Below are the 12 photographs for 2012, in no particular order. Tell me in the comments which one you think should be on the cover. One lucky commenter will be selected at random to win a calendar.

p.s. Click on any of the photos to browse through them at an extra-large size in a slide show format.

TO ENTER Answer the following question in the comments:
Which calendar picture should go on the cover?

THE RULESOne entry per person. No entries after 7 pm Mountain time on Tuesday, November 15. Winner will be chosen at random and announced Wednesday morning. If you post your comment anonymously, please include your name or initials in the comment so I can identify you if you win.

THE PRIZEA 2012 7MSN Ranch Wall Calendar from Lulu.com

Good luck, and thanks for your help.

Saturday encore ~ Honk your horn if you love wild animals

2011-11-12T04:00:00.000-07:00

Enough about the porcupines. Let's switch the programming to something more pleasant –

like the pronghorns who occasionally populate my pasture, which I pictured in this post from November 2010.

***

Me: So, Snapper, what do you think of our new sculpture?

Snapper: I suppose it's ok if you're into that sort of thing.

And I'm definitely into that sort of thing, where thing equals found object. Our new sculpture is actually a Pronghorn horn.

I found it right in the middle of the path as Smooch and I walked around the fenceline.

Buck photo courtesy of Arizona Game and Fish

Here are some fun facts about the Pronghorn that roam the range around the 7MSN:
• The Pronghorn is the only animal in the world with branched horns (not antlers) and the only animal to shed its horns, as if they were antlers. The horn is a hollow sheath over a bony core that rises from the skull just above the eye. A buck's horns are up to 15 inches long. Each has a distinctive prong on the front, which gives the species its name.
• Pronghorn are found only on the plains and grasslands of North America.
• The Pronghorn is the fastest land mammal in the world. It can sprint as fast as 60 mph and can sustain a speed of 30 mph for miles.
• A Pronghorn herd travels as one, not leaving a single animal open to attack. The herd runs in perfect unison in a very tight, oval-shaped formation, much like a flock of birds.
• Pronghorn cannot leap fences, as deer can, so they crawl under fences instead.

Can I just say that my heart skips a beat every time I see a Pronghorn? I'll stop whatever it is I'm doing and just watch (and take pictures, if I'm lucky enough to be wearing my camera). It's a privilege to see something so wild and beautiful, and I will never tire of it.

Smooch: No way, no how am I posing with that thing on my head.

Clearly, Smooch and I do not have the same taste when it comes to art. We found this horn several weeks ago, and I've been meaning to show it to you. I had forgotten all about it until yesterday afternoon, when I looked out the living room window and noticed George and Alan chasing something across the pasture.

Putting the porcupine problem into its proper perspective

2011-11-11T04:00:00.000-07:00

It was Tuesday, four days post-porcupine sighting. Smooch was adjusting to guarding the living room instead of the back porch from sunset 'til bedtime, and I was adjusting to taking out Smooch on a leash for her last potty break of the night. Neither of us was too happy about our new world order, but I was taking no chances with a porcupine possibly on the prowl.

Anyway, we went for our walk and returned home when there was barely enough light to see. We were halfway up the driveway, in about the same spot where I took the picture below. Roll your mouse between the margin and the picture and you'll get an idea of how dark it was. You'll also get an idea of who else entered the picture.

Crap, I thought, and proceeded to walk Smooch as fast as I could to the house. My heart started beating really fast because

I had already decided that if I ever saw the porcupine again, I should shoot it. It posed too great a danger to Smooch.

So I grab my gun and a flashlight and walk back out to the tree. I was standing right about where I took the picture below.

You know the drill by now - roll your mouse over the photo...

The porcupine had climbed the tree and was taking a little nap. I looked at the porcupine, then I looked at my gun,
then I said to myself, "I am so glad it's too dark to take a shot because I really don't want to do this."

I went back in the house and pondered. And googled. And pondered some more.

Really, what's the point of shooting one porcupine? The rest of his family must be hanging out in this vicinity, and there are probably hundreds more of them beyond my property. I can't shoot them all. They were here long before I was and have been minding their own business all this time. Instead of picking them off, I need to figure out a way for us to peacefully co-exist.

In all probability, the porcupine who paid us a visit last Friday night entered Smooch's yard by climbing the coyote fence -

that's what we call those tree limbs lining the wire fence in the picture above.

In this case, it's not serving as a real fence – it just hides stuff that I'd rather not look at.

So yesterday, I took the coyote fence down.

Smooch: Wow! Look how much easier it is to see trespassers. I could get used to this.

Me: You can see trespassers and I can see the propane tank. Oh, well. A small price to pay for peace of mind.

Let's pray that those pesky porcupine perpetrators won't prowl around in your playpen now.

You know you live in the middle of nowhere when...

2011-11-10T04:00:00.000-07:00

... your houseguest packs a postal scale in her suitcase when she comes to visit, just for the entertainment value. I suppose this could also fall under the heading of "You know you're a blogger when..." or "You know you're obsessed with chickens when...".

Anyway, one of my chickens had laid a wow-that-must-have-hurt mutant-sized egg a few days prior to Danni's visit, which I said I would save for her to witness.

When you're mildly obsessed with chickens and eggs, seeing is not believing; an egg must be weighed to measure its true magnificence. So Danni packed her official postal scale in her suitcase. Good thing she checked her bag. How does one explain a postal scale to a TSA agent?

At the official weigh-in, the mutant egg came in at a whopping 3.0 ounces.

For a little perspective, here we have a Grade A Large, weighing in at 2.2 ounces.

Nerd that I am, I did a little research to find out how my mutant egg measures up.

Here is the official U.S. Department of Agriculture standard for shell egg weight classes:

Allow me to summarize.

1. At 3.0 ounces, my mutant egg is was 20% heavier than a USDA Jumbo. We finally did eat it and, yes, it was a double yolker.

2. The USDA has a sense of humor. "Peewee"?

Down the Road with Smooch ~ November 2011

2011-11-09T04:00:00.000-07:00

"Down the Road with Smooch" is a monthly post that chronicles for posterity the who-what-where-when of our daily walk.

Date: November 8, 2011
Route: To the northwest corner of the ranch and back.
Distance: 2 miles, more or less
Time: 5-ish to 6-ish pm
Temperature: 34 degrees
Humidity: 30 percent
Wind: Not a bit.
On the iPod: The Winds of War by Herman Wouk
Attire: T-shirt, long-sleeved shirt, wild rag, barn coat with hood up, jeans, sneakers, mittens.

Observations:
1. It's cold. It's dark. It's November.
2. Walking Smooch from November through March isn't as much fun as it is from April through October.
3. Just when I thought Smooch couldn't be more alert, she gets more alert. This might have something to do with porcupines. They're one more thing she's added to her very long list of things to be on the lookout for.
4. Mylar balloons can travel about 40 miles (the distance between civilization and the 7MSN) before they deflate, descend and get stuck on a barbed wire fence or cactus. If I had a nickel for every dead balloon I've found and thrown away, I'd probably have a dollar.

They didn't get the memo about the time change

2011-11-08T04:00:00.000-07:00

Wynonna: Hurry up. You're an hour late with my dinner.

Me: I beg your pardon, but I am right on time.

Wynonna: Like hell you are.

Me: Wynonna, we've had this same discussion every stinkin' fall for the past 16 years.

Wynonna: And not once has it made any sense. Just shut up and feed me.

Wynonna: I'm waiting...

Me: Foaming at the mouth? Seriously? Isn't that a little dramatic?

Wynonna: I told you I was starving. Did you believe me? No.

I'm going to interrupt this story to point something out that you might have overlooked.

I have snout smears on the front of my house.

Meanwhile, over in the corral...

George: Feed us this very minute or there will be nothing left of my neck.

Do you want that on your conscience?

Alan: Daylight-schmaylight. Would it kill you to feed us a little early?

Lucy: I'm going over there. Maybe I can talk some sense into her.

Lucy: This whole situation is getting entirely out of hand.

Alan and George are about to jump out of their skin they're so hungry.

Alan: I can't HANDLE the time change!

Hank: All good things come to he who waits patiently by his feed tub.

Lucy puts the cows in their place

2011-11-07T04:00:00.000-07:00

Cow: Hey, neighbor. What'cha doin'?

Lucy: Taking a dirt bath. What does it look like I'm doing?

Cow: Having a seizure?

Cow: Run for your life, Junior. I think Lady Longears took offense.

Cow: Faster! She's coming after us!

Lucy: Get over yourselves. You're so not worth my time.

Lucy: Make yourselves useful and go pester some porcupines.

Another UFO sighting in New Mexico

2011-11-06T04:00:00.000-07:00

It was around 8:30 Friday night. It was cold outside, the woodstove was blazing inside, and we (Smooch, me, Rosebud, Daffodil and Snapper) were hunkered down for the evening, getting ready to make dinner and watch ... you don't want to know. But it rhymes with The Seal Mousehives.

Anyway, Smooch runs into the guest room and starts barking bloody murder. Then the cats run over to that side of the house. Then I run over and turn on the back porchlights.

Me: What's all the fuss about, Smooch? I don't see anything!

Smooch: BARKBARKBARKBARKBARK! BARK!

I look again. Nothing. Keep looking. Nothing. Then I saw it. A UFO (Unidentified Fat Object) waddling down one of Smooch's paths next to the fence. I think my eyes might have popped out of my head an inch or two. I had no earthly idea what it was. It was black, with short stubby legs and a short stubby tail, and as round as it was long. Way too big for pack rat. Way too small for a bear. Way too fat a cat.
What could it be?

I threw on my coat and shoes and grabbed the camera. My plan was to get some pictures, then come back in the house to look at them and figure out what I was dealing with. Seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea.

It's challenging to take pictures of a black animal in the dark. First I had to find it. The porchlights provided enough of a glow to spot something moving in the corner of the yard. I fired off about 20 shots then ran back in the house.

Ewww. I had no clue what it was. I saw a badger once when I first moved here, so I thought maybe this was a baby badger. I posted the picture above on facebook and folks started weighing in right away. Everybody thought it was a porcupine. Porcupine? We have porcupines in New Mexico? I'd never seen one in person before. What do I know from porcupines?

I decided to take a closer look at some of the other pictures. Hmm. Didn't see any quills, but maybe if I enhanced them like they do on TV... Roll your mouse between the margin and the picture below and pretend you're watching CSI: New Mexico.

Yep, it's a porcupine. Now what do we do?

Open the gate, hope he finds his way out, keep Smooch inside, and worry about it in the morning.

So Saturday breaks and as soon as it was light enough to see, I combed the backyard looking for porcupine tracks or, heaven forbid, the porcupine. Didn't find either, so I let Smooch out to help me with the investigation.

Smooch: He was definitely back here at some point.

Snapper: Please be careful, mom. You haven't fed me breakfast yet.

Smooch: Somebody's been sitting in my chair.

Smooch: Somebody's been waddling down my path.

Smooch: Somebody's been digging in my dirt ... and look! There he is! Oops. False alarm.

Smooch: What are we going to do if he comes back?

Me: Hard to say. For now, your curfew starts when the sun goes down,

all after-dark pottie breaks will be conducted on the end of a leash,

and the porch light is staying on. And I'll do a little research on what the folks in Roswell did when they saw their UFO.