Is It Spring Yet?

At Rainbow's End Farm here in North Texas, we're making a slow transition into deep autumn.

Mild weather over the last few weeks and some lovely, lovely rain after this summer's record-breaking heat and drought have the fauna in a tizzy. Tender grass is cropping up, trying to get re-established as morning temperatures flirt with freezing. Even the forsythia seems confused. I'm concerned the drought may have taken out one of the shrubs, but the other has popped out a few tentative blooms nearly three months early. If the plants are using up their resources in a pseudo-spring burst of energy, what will the real spring bring?

The trees that didn't drop their leaves during the summer drought have clung to them long past normal. Not only isn't there much fall color this year, there aren't many leaves to rake yet. Suburbanites would no doubt rejoice over that reprieve, but I try to put a few dozen bags up to keep the goats happily munching away throughout the winter, and I need to put them up dry, not cold and damp.

It's always something.

The photo at the top of this post is of my front yard. The large live oak that dominates the view is one of the few trees showing fall color right now. Live oaks actually retain their leaves over winter and drop them in the spring, which usually means more tasty leaves for the horses and goats just before the grasses get into full growing gear. I love how nature thinks ahead like that.

And since most of us are thinking leftovers right after Thanksgiving, here are a couple of leftover pictures I found as I'm clearing out the albums getting ready for 2012.

The summer harvest of crabapples from the tree in my backyard. I made crabapple-sauce with some of these, but the majority were fed out as treats to the goats and horses.

A roadrunner on the ramp to my porch. During the worst of the drought, a pair of them would come to drink out of the water bowl I left out for Magic, the cat, and any other passers-by who needed it.

 The horses seem convinced the coming winter will be a cold one and are growing in their winter coats accordingly. I'll have pictures next week of how my guys transform into shaggy mountain ponies 5 months out of the year.

Are there other pictures of the farm you'd like to see?

The Lonely Bones

Winter 2010
Photo taken from the warmth and comfort of my desk



Mowing the pasture farthest from the house last week I ran across what should have been an unusual sight: the skeleton of a coyote. The back half of the skeleton lay undisturbed among some tallish weeds while the front half had been dragged maybe 50 feet away. Otherwise, it was pretty much intact.

Because that pasture’s fencing isn’t reliable enough for me to use for the horses and because the drought had kept the vegetation in check, I hadn’t been out to mow those 7 or 8 acres in a few months. The area is mostly hidden from the house and barn, and I rarely have need to walk it. Even after nearly 7 years here, I’m still awed by the fact I own land I don’t often see.

It was clear the coyote had died where its back-half bones were. What wasn’t so clear was why. Not just why it had died, but why there. Close by, a large pecan tree offered shelter. In fact, an armadillo or fox or something has made a den near the base of that very tree. But the coyote wasn’t under the sheltering branches. Nor was it in a nearby hollow or anywhere else a sick or injured animal might normally seek out. It was in the middle of a field. Perhaps it had been in a fight and fallen there. Maybe it had a heart attack or stroke and couldn’t move to find a more welcoming spot to die.

What saddens me is that such a death scene could play out so close to me and I be so unaware of it. So much life is going on all around me – so many little dramas and big consequences – and I want to be a part of it all. I try to keep up with the nesting swallows and robins and their offspring in the spring. With the handful of squirrels and rabbits that live nearby. I even check in occasionally on the hawk that nests in a copse of trees not quite far enough away that I don’t worry for the chickens when it’s about. I keep up with the coyotes through their songs in the night and by the rogues that come around in the daylight, only to be encouraged by me and the dogs to move along down the creek and away from our vulnerable beasties.

What’s oddest about finding the coyote skeleton in the field, though, is that this isn’t the first one to show up in that little 8-acre plot of land. Two years ago, there was a similar occurrence: bones found in the tall grass in the middle of the field, these a few hundred feet from where the new skeleton turned up.

Coincidence? Or do coyotes seek out certain areas to die as some elephants do? Two incidents does not a trend make, of course. Still, I’ll be keeping an eye out for any more skeletons that might turn up.

Meanwhile, I’ll be wondering when next I hear coyotes howling with the rising moon whether it’s the song of a hunting pack or the ghosts of those passing in the night.  



Horses Have to Eat Too, Right?

All my horses tend to be chow hounds. In late spring and summer they live strictly off pasture and a daily treat of fruit or carrots. In fall and winter, I supplement with grain in differing proportions depending on how much green grass and hay is available. The grain ration is never enough for my guys.
And that can be a problem, both physically and behaviorally.

Cody puts on weight easily. Already this fall he's a fat little butterball, which is a problem because miniatures are especially prone to diabetes. Yet he's only getting a bit of grain right now to counter the pasture they're on where the drought's sucked much of the nutrition right out of the dead grass.

Cody pretending to be slim - he was too vain to have a new picture taken.

When I'm distributing their grain, Bonita follows me from feed bowl to feed bowl, trying to snatch a mouthfull from each. Because she's the baby of the herd at just a year old, I put feed in her bowl last. Eventually she'll learn patience. Her mother, Bella, did.

Bonita checking out the "treat wagon"

After being Hah!'ed at enough and told "Not your bowl!" a hundred times, Bella figured out it takes me as long to put grain in everyone's bowls as it does for her to walk once slowly around the outside of the barn. She learned to self-regulate! So now I don't dawdle when I feed because I want to be sure there's food in her bowl by the time she comes back in.

Bella had colic recently and I stayed up with her during the night walking her a bit and rubbing her tummy and generally worrying over her. A fair percentage of horses die each year from severe cases of colic, so it always requires a sharp eye to be sure it's not developing beyond a simple, mild case. Luckily, Bella responded well to pain meds and being fussed over. It took her a couple of days to come back 100% but once the crisis point was past, I was grateful.

Bella, feeling much better thank you.

So much to worry about with the horses seems to be over what they're eating or how they're eating it. May I just ask how horses survive and thrive in the wild? Do we over-coddle?

Of course, my little beasties love to be coddled.

Speaking of which, Ricky showed up Saturday morning with this mysterious coiffure.

Reminds me of those mysterious crop circles that appear overnight.

Hmmm... isn't it Queen Mab of the Faeries who comes in the night to braid horses' manes? Or perhaps it's the little girl who lives on the other side of the pasture.

~~~

No guest post for Wednesday, but I do have a story about a very naughty lizard. Plus, I've got a meme in my back pocket that I haven't forgotten about...

Fall Flora and Fauna

Despite the summer drought, a few native plants and animals seem to be abundant this fall. Where there was a drastic decrease in the number of hummingbirds and dragonflies, there was a marked increase in the number of rabbits and, surprisingly, bumblebees. I missed seeing some of the rarer birds, such as the painted buntings, from seasons past, but I saw -- and heard -- far more owls.

Painted bunting photo taken last year

Rainfall appears to be on the increase now and, coupled with an extra-long Indian summer and mild October, we at last have new, tender grass popping up. We did flirt briefly with one overnight temp near freezing, but today we'll be close to 90 degrees (32C), with cooling but still mild temps forecast for the next week or so. As long as the new growth has time to establish so it's ready to come back strong in the spring, I'll be happy.

Here's a guy I rarely see in the flesh, although I often, literally, stumble across the snout holes they leave where they dig up tasty bugs. I've also found a couple of armadillo dens under the trees.



Another coyote wandering through as seen from my office window. What do YOU see from YOUR office window, hmm?



Buffalo Bur (aka Solanum rostratum) has a lovely flower but large burs and spinehairs on its stem make it particularly noxious. It didn't seem to mind the drought at all.

 

I think this is frostweed. Large and showy when there's a lot of it clumped together. Kind of sad-looking when there's just a few stray branches here and there.



Goldenrod. If you look at it as a weed, you won't like it because it's hard to kill out.



This is a beautiful stand of huge old oaks. Those are carports under the trees. I would love there to be more oaks on the property than there are but am happy with the few specimens that lend their grace about the place.



Can you spot the cat in the dying boxwood hedge? Poor Magic isn't usually so exposed in his hidey hole.



This is Cody popping in to say Hi!



The herd hanging around my detached garage. Note the empty hanging baskets where flowers usually grow. Oh, and that "window" is just a bit of screen surrounded by shutters and a couple of non-working lights to give that long white expanse a more homey feel.

Ricky, sporting some serious rocker bangs.

Ginger (l) and Loki (r) acting nice and happy right before launching into ...

  

Killer Death Match 5000.
They really do love each other.



And, as my 'dillo friend is clearly saying, I believe we're done here.

Hay Season

The temperatures have finally moderated and we had some decent rainfall this weekend. Yay! The much-needed rain will help with the fire danger and start the long journey back to full ponds, lakes and reservoirs.

The drought damage, though, will extend well beyond this season. Warm-season grass that should be matured and going to seed now to produce new grass in the spring withered long ago.  The rain is too late to help our native Bermuda and too early to jumpstart the cool-season grasses. Still, it’s more than welcome.

The horses have munched through the pastures with the best grass. There are three other pastures they can graze but the grass in those is sparse and poor. I’d put off mowing them – that is until last week. The first pasture I’ve tackled is 8 acres I bought off a neighbor who moved a couple of years ago. The neighbor used to run a couple of cows and a horse on it, but it hasn’t been mown often. I did give it a rough mow last year and was pleased with the amount of good grass in it. I had expected a good crop this year, too.

Yep, gotta mow around all those trees up ahead.

It’s fenced, but it’s old fencing: a combination of rusted barbed wire and even rustier field fence. The steel T-posts holding the fence up are weary-looking but solid for the most part. The mid-posts and corner-posts, though, are wood, and many of them either were burnt by a grass fire a dozen years ago or are simply decaying.

My plan was to string an electric fence inside the perimeter to keep the horses away from the rusting fence line. In normal soil, the extremely lightweight, fiberglass posts are easy to set. The ones I bought even have a convenient ridge built in that you step on to drive the post about a foot into the ground. This, however, isn’t normal soil. No way I could set the new posts into ground as hard as concrete. So I mowed the acreage and let the horses into the pasture, hoping that the game of finding a few blades of grass amid the weeds will keep them entertained enough they don’t go rubbing their backsides against the fence to give themselves a good scratch and wind up getting cut on the rusty barbs.

I’m not sure the ground will be softened enough after this bout of rain to drive in the posts. So far, the horses are behaving themselves and thoroughly enjoying being in a pasture they’ve not had access to before.

The brush pile is waiting for a calm day just after a rain to be burned and buried. It's been waiting now for nearly a year.

A couple of the acres have a lot of trees on them. I’ve tried to leave as many seedling native pears as I can in a small grove but that means tedious mowing to get around them. It takes me, on average, about an hour to mow an acre. The cut grass has to dry for a couple of days before being baled – or bagged, which is what I do since I don’t have expensive baling equipment. I use a large grass sweeper that collects the grass but doesn’t bag it. I still have to circle back around and hand bag all the hay.  To mow, rake and stuff 50 bags of hay takes me the better part of 5 days.

It's a John Deere with a 5-foot drag-behind mower (aka brush hog)

The brush hog in action!

Fifty bags of poor-quality hay will last maybe 2 months if I s-t-r-e-t-c-h it out. I’ll mix it with a like amount of good-quality, purchased hay; add in 3 or 4 dozen bags of leaves (they’ll be dropping soon enough!); and supplement with plenty of grain. Goats and horses will do fine.

Once the ground dries out, I’ll tackle the other two pastures and bag up maybe another 30 bags of hay. Whoo! It’s a good workout. The best thing? Just look at the sunsets after a long day’s work!