Fort Smooch

The hay stack on the back porch has provided Smooch with a welcome diversion this winter,

say nothing of a soft, warm spot to park her butt.

Her vantage point from high atop Fort Smooch 

affords a strategic advantage against invaders on all sides...

...including me. I've panicked a few times lately thinking she's disappeared from the back yard, 

only to find her sitting quietly atop the stack.

At the rate I've been feeding the herd, the stack will be gone in a few weeks

and I'll start pulling bales from the hay barn.

Smooch has asked me to leave what remains so she can hold down the fort.

Smooch vs. the haystack

After four months of eating nothing but pasture, Lucy and the boys have resumed eating hay. 

It will take awhile to use up all the bales piled on the back porch, 

but I've finally made a dent in the stack.

Smooch likes the elevated view.

She can keep an eye on all the gaps...

...and stalk mice from her warm and comfy spot in the sun.

The new arrangement comes with a price, however.

There's that itchy-all-over feeling when hay gets stuck in places you didn't know you had.

And who hasn't walked across a haystack and not had a leg or two fall through?

Now if I could only harness the energy Smooch uses hopping on and off the stack 

to help me move bales to the barn...

The Hay Man, the Cowboy and the Turtle

In all my excitement and relief over last week's hay delivery, I've been remiss in sharing this little story from the day. 

It makes me laugh every time I think about it.

So the Hay Man backs up his rig right next to the hay barn. The Cowboy he brought along to help unload

climbs down from the cab. Introductions were made and a few pleasantries exchanged, 

then Cowboy asks me, "So, do you see turtles around here often?"

I laughed and knew right away what had happened. "You must have seen Turtle Steve," I said.

 Cowboy explained that he and Hay Man got out of the truck to look at him, 

then picked him up and moved him out of the middle of the road.

Turtle Steve's not that big, so I was very impressed that Hay Man and Cowboy recognized him for what he was 

(a less observant driver might have thought him a rock or a pile of cow poop), let alone moved him out of harm's way. 

Apparently Hay Man's wife has a couple of large tortoises so he was attuned to slow-moving round objects in the road. 

Anyway, it was a lucky day for Turtle Steve, and for me. Between this story and a full hay barn, I'm still smiling.

Add to that, a surprise in my mailbox. When I went to town this weekend, I stopped to pick up my mail

and found a small package. I couldn't remember ordering anything so I was anxious to open it 

and see what I had bought and forgotten about.

I laughed all the way to town. Thank you, mysterious benefactor – you know me too well.

What, me worry?

Just before I went to bed Monday night, I e-mailed the hay man with the good news that it hadn't rained all day, 

the radar was clear of ominous storms, and he should have no trouble getting his truck 

and my 300 bales of hay here on Tuesday morning.

Two hours later, I woke up to the sound of rain on the roof. Then the lightning started. 

Then the power went out. Then it rained – and I worried – all night long.

I called the hay man at 6:30 a.m. with the news. The hay was already loaded and this was the only day 

he could deliver it. I drove out to the highway to check the depth of the mud. I didn't get stuck. 

I called him back and told him he could probably make it, as long as the forecast for 

"60% chance of heavy rain before noon" didn't happen.

Then he started on his journey and I worried for another three hours. 

I hate hate hate worrying, but at times like these, what else is there to do?

Go outside and take pictures in the fog.

At least the rain had stopped and the power had come back on.

Johnny came with me while I tried to find Lucy and the boys.

I looked high, Johnny looked low.

We never found them...

...but I finally stopped worrying. Nature is a powerful elixir. I need to take it more often.

The fog lifted, the hay man arrived safely, and I couldn't stop smiling.

The hay barn is full and that's one less thing to worry about for an entire year.

Sunday leftovers

A collection of images left in the camera from the previous week.

Johnny has claimed the front porch as his own, probably because he's been temporarily banned from the house. 

I spotted a flea on him. Bad flea. Fleas are not supposed to survive at high altitude...another lie the internet told me.

 I caught up with some treasured friends at a dog-friendly restaurant. The humans had fish tacos,

the dog had hummus on whole wheat pita bread. Smooch still hasn't forgiven me for not taking her.

(It was too hot for her to wait in the truck while I did all my other errands.) 

I'll make it up to her. Promise.

 Lady Mary has made a full and miraculous recovery from the several-minutes-which-seemed-like-an-eternity

which she spent in Smooch's mouth. Maybe chickens have nine lives, too.

The summer monsoon season has begun in earnest, with regular afternoon thunderstorms, 

often while the sun is shining brightly. It's a New Mexico thing. 

The above picture was taken with a slow shutter speed...

 ...while this one was taken at a very fast shutter speed. 

I think I like this one better – makes it look like I live in a snow globe in July.

Hi, George. Nice to see you before you roll in the mud. 

Saturday was a hay day in preparation for the main event –

the hay man is scheduled to deliver 300 bales on Tuesday, weather and road permitting.

I moved all the old hay out of the hay barn and onto the back porch to make room.

 It was not fun.

 

The highlight of the week was making the acquaintance of Mama and Junior.

I'm over-the-top excited that they're still here, and I think I've figured out why they've moved in. More on that tomorrow.  

Grazing season

We've reached that point in the year when it's difficult to get a picture of Hank with his head in the air.

The grass is growing remarkably well considering how little rain we've had. 

During the winter, I typically feed grass hay to the equines four times a day, going through 

about nine 50-pound bales per week. I recently cut back to two feedings per day, 

and that will drop to one once I'm confident there's enough pasture to sustain them. 

Hank is a grazing machine. Sometimes I just want to scream, "come up for air!" 

Lucy, George and Alan are a little less greedy and will take a break now and then to play...

 ...or pay attention to something besides food...

...such as a truck going down the road, kicking up alot of dust.

The Ranchsitter Report, September 9, 2013

These pictures and accompanying narrative arrived in my email box Monday night. 

As if Danni didn't have enough to keep her busy, she found time to document her day.

I'll be quiet now so she can tell you all about it.

***

Today started out normally enough. I'm pleased to report that there were no snakes or giant flying bugs.

After feeding everyone, I decided to finally spread some of the manure that we'd been collecting:

Why does it not surprise me that butterflies land on poop at the 7MSN? 

That really lends a magical touch, don't you think?

There is something very satisfying about this chore...

Then the phone rang. Mr. Hay Man decided today was the day to deliver 216 bales:

Since we weren't expecting this to happen today, first I needed to move 36 compressed hay bales

out of the hay barn to make room for the new stuff. Not only did Mr. Hay Man help me with this...

...he almost single-handedly stacked all the new stuff in the hay barn! I was so thankful!

(What a beautiful sight a barn full of hay is:):

After this, I was ready for a bit of play. So was Johnny Cash. We played with string:

And we experimented with a catnip ball:

Eugenia was fascinated:

And then, this evening, even though the sun was still shining, it began to rain.

It didn't stop Wynonna from dining on the terrace:

Smooch and I have decided to call it a day. This is what the evening has in store for us:

Be careful what you wish for

Lucy: Please remove my mask. I'm having a little trouble seeing through the mud.

Two storms moved through here on Wednesday. 

The one where the chickens went fishing left .38"of rain, then a few hours later we got another .59".

My rain gauge almost runneth over.

But now it's time for the rain to stop, just temporarily. I spoke to my hay farmer last night. 

His crop is finally ready, but he has to wait for a break in the monsoons. His plan is to cut on Monday, 

bale on Friday, and deliver and stack 360 beautiful bales in my hay barn next weekend. 

In a normal year, this all would have happened in early June, before the monsoon season started, 

but this is not a normal year. I'm trying not to think about the mess I'll be in if this cutting gets rained on.

So all of you who have been sending your kind thoughts, wishes, and prayers for rain to fall on New Mexico? Thank you! It worked!
I hate to be greedy, but now can I ask you to focus your energy on a dry spell? Seven days of no rain –
that's all we need so that we can stop worrying about our hay supply and get on with our lives.