Princess Abbie

 This is Princess Abbie on her first day at the ranch. She's getting acquainted with her friends, the chicks. I think she thinks they are toys.

She is checking things out and enjoying all of the attention being the "new kid on the block". The dog really enjoys being a princess.

"Can I have one of those?!" is undoubtedly what she is thinking. We finally put a screen across the tops of the four boxes so she wouldn't help herself to a chicken dinner.

She's getting used to being outside. I have her on a nice long cable here but have since put the electric fence collar on her. She can roam all around the property that way and not just the front. For some reason, she isn't recognizing the doghouse as her friend. We're going to spiff it up a bit and make it fit for a princess. Perhaps that will make our little princess happy (uh-huh).

This is the carport that we converted to a coop. It has just been assembled and the roof put on. We installed a metal roof rather than the fabric one that came with the carport. The carport in front of the house doesn't fair all that well with its fabric cover.

The finished exterior of the coop. There is chicken wire under it too so that critters can't dig under it. The ground in this area is some of the hardest I've ever seen. Even a pick ax is useless against it (that's not an exaggeration). You can see the 4x6's as a base which makes the coop "portable". But, it's not going anywhere even in a stiff wind. The nesting boxes are being installed at this point.

Our garden boxes are almost ready here.

Connie the Canner prepping one of the boxes. She planted a bunch of stuff that day. There are still a couple of boxes to plant.

Springville really is a pretty place in the winter and spring time. It actually is green during that time but quickly turns brown when the water stops.

This is the bridge across the Tule River just about 1.5 miles from where we live. We're on the way home now (eastbound).

One of the homes near the "Triple R" development not far from us.

Taken from "Triple R" looking slightly left of due north.

It had to happen sooner or later and I'm pleased to report that it's sooner than later. After dear Maggie the Wonder Dog went to the great hunt in the sky, we were sort of on the prowl for a new pooch that could keep an eye on the ranch whilst we are gone. It wasn't like we were actually hunting for a dog. It was more that we were (more or less) waiting for the right dog to track us down. That's almost what happened.

Connie was trolling the turbid waters of Craig's List and had been catching nothing but bottom dwellers (for us, anyway). Seems like a large number of postings were either pit bulls or chihuahuas. That's not a bad thing; it's just not "us". So, she kept fishing and one evening she tapped me on the shoulder and....there she was: the prettiest little doggie I'd seen in a long time. Whereas, with the other dogs, I'd simply pass, it took exactly two seconds to say, "That's our dog!". I think I affected Connie's speech for awhile since she thought I would just make a casual comment then move on.

One of the reasons that she was a bit caught off guard was that I had said I would not drive 50 miles to fetch a dog. Guess what? The dog was in Visalia which is ....yep....50 miles away. *SIGH*. Goes to show you never can tell.

So, we called the nice people and advised them of our story about how we lost Maggie and that we needed another dog. They had already determined that, because of their love for the dog, she wouldn't be given to just anyone that came along. They chose us as the new owners. That made us feel really swell. We made an appointment to see them the next day.

Now, going to Visalia (a "real town") is a major event for the hicks who live in Hooterville, CA and who only get to go that far onest in awhile. In doing so, we planned to make a full day of it. That means that we knocked over "Home Town Buffet" for lunch and then "WinCo" supermarket for stuff that we just can't purchase anywhere near our blessed little area (that has promised to come into the 21st  century.....someday...yes...we're laid back here). After a couple of other short stops, we made our way to the folks who were going to give us their 6 month old puppy.

When we drove up, they were in the driveway (we had called ahead). They were super Christian folks who advise that, because of a serious event in their family, were not able to tend to the little dog and take care of her the way that they thought she should have been treated.

After we were all introduced, we met Abbie. It was love at first hug and tail wag. I was already hooked from just looking at her picture so I was smitten with this little cutie when she greeted me like I was a long lost relative.  The folks apprised us of a few more things and then we said good-bye. It was no trouble at all getting Abbie into the van as she hopped right in and made herself comfortable in the back seat. She didn't hop around and didn't go exploring. Blew my mind! There was no way I could keep from loving this dog to pieces. She snatched my heart quicker than a fly can dodge a swatter. This was our new "love dog" because she could dish out a ton of love!

This dog just oozed with class. Though not "papered", her blood line was obvious. She was a premier example of the "Treeing Walker Coonhound". Her intelligence was overwhelming and it appeared that she had had at least some training. Just taking her for a walk on a leash revealed that she was already "leash broke" and wouldn't pull you around ripping your arm off. You could tell that she knew what you were saying, too. Without controversy, she was true royalty.

Once we got home, she settled in without much of a hitch. Ah, but there were a couple of hitches. One was that she knew she was a princess. That isn't a good thing. She has a streak of rebellion that keeps you from being in charge if she has an idea that she deems more important than your idea.

That is particularly pronounced when we discovered that her housebreaking training was not quite complete. Oooooooh, swell. Within a day or so, though taking her for walks, this other hitch became apparent. She managed to produce a couple of "wet spots for joy" and each time we immediately took her outside. Then she made a real mess. Uhhhhh....real messes are not our friends and are not acceptable. So,  I cabled her to the tree next to the big doghouse in front and left her there most of the day (really long cable and lots of food and water).  The routine walks continued. All seemed well.

On about the fourth day at the ranch, I had determined to take her for her early walk. Well...seems like Miss Abbie just wasn't going to have any part of such a thing and invoked her highness. She hadn't quite woke up enough and didn't particularly want to greet the day or take on her early morning constitutional (actually, I didn't either but that's beside the point). You could see in her eyes what she was thinking: "I am the princess....you are not the princess. I am cute....you are not cute. I don't have to obey you or anyone else because you serve me and I do not serve you. I can do whatever I want whenever I want and shall select such times to do my business as I please. I've just been obedient to you all this time because I was in a good mood and was humoring you; you fell for all of it".

As I coaxed her toward me so I could hook her leash to her collar, she turned away in abject rebellion, headed up the stairs away from me and, half way up, promptly unloaded a.....really....really.....large.....heaping.....molten.....mess....which appeared to me to be....half as large as the dog...... .....gaaaauuuuuuuugh. That's not the way to start my day or to impress me because cuteness can only go so far in endearing my soul. My lightning-fast mind tried to make the best of things by piping in, "Clean up on aisle 9! Clean up on aisle 9!".

Of course, this prompted me to re-evaluate things and to perhaps lower my esteem of this royal little poophound. It occurred to me that I would probably start calling her "Princess Poo-Poo Pooch" (or "Princess Three P's"). That, however, was too cute in a perverse sort of way. The next moniker didn't go over well either; it was "Poop Doggie Dog".....still too much of a ring to it and she would probably end up on TV as a rap singer. I think I've found the right one. If she doesn't behave, she'll be tagged with this most unflattering, truly non-royal, and humbling sobriquet, "Princess Steamer". The dog needs to pay attention.

We live near Highway 190; the last thing on earth we want is a flattened coonhound puppy. So, we broke out Maggie's electric fence collar and strapped it on Abbie. Up until then, I had taken her on familiarization walks around the ranch using a long leash. She enjoyed every second of it (but we still didn't find a single coon).

The electric fence is a marvelous invention. It uses a 6V battery in a special case on a collar. When the dog reaches the limits preset then imposed by the controller box, it emits a warning buzz. If the buzz goes unheeded, and the dog continues beyond the limit, the collar delivers a high voltage shock.

As an aside, let's take a second to explore that dynamic. The first thing you think is "how do you get a high  voltage shock from a measly 6V battery?". They use a step-up transformer which multiplies the voltage to the desired higher voltage which is determined by varying the number of windings.  The next question is, "Well...doesn't that high a voltage hurt the dog?". Nope. Here's why. According to "Ohm's Law" (E=IR), voltage and amperage are inversely proportional. So,  when you double the voltage, you halve the amperage (voltage is potential or "pressure" while amperage is the actual "flowing"). A 6V battery starts with a maximum of just a few milliamps and that's not enough to harm anyone or any animal under any circumstances. When you do the math on it, the few milliamps end up being reduced to insignificance. You get the dog's attention without harming it.

Having said that, Abbie was taken outside for her usual walk and to explore the new boundaries then the cable was unhooked from the leash.  Being the rather astute hound that she is, she instantly knew that she was free and could exercise her free will any way she pleased (or so she thought). Away she went to hunt down some new adventure, some coons, and to explore the farm with that magnificent nose she sports.

As you can imagine, she soon found out things had changed. When the neighbor's dog let out a bark and challenged her, she sped toward him and almost immediately banged up against the unforgiving and ever vigilant fence. She let out a bloody coonhound yelp like never before! 

Have you ever seen a coonhound do the Watusi? How about the Watusi and a vertical aileron roll at the same time? She did both and hit the ground running at breakneck speed away from the barrier. You could tell by the most humble look in her eyes she wanted no part of that again. That electric fence demoted her from princess to janitor in no time flat. Of course, it took a couple of more lessons but she learned to heed the warning buzzer when it went off. We can now let her out to have plenty of sun and exercise.

We're looking forward to Abbie being our new Rancho Relaxo love dog from now on. We love her to pieces and with just a bit more fine tuning,  she'll fit in just fine.

The chicks are doing great and growing like weeds! We've been making sure that they are warm and well fed. We've even been crumbling up our stale bread for them as an extra treat. We'll likely get the "Pullet-zer Prize" for our efforts (I know. I know. It's a cry for help). They get to move into their magnificent new poop coop in a couple of days. It has to be tweaked and finalized then we can get the flock out of our house. Connie isn't at all happy with her kitchen and sewing room smelling like a chicken ranch. The yard birds will have to go.

We're going to add a couple of Guinea hens to the mix. They are good "guard chickens" (who woulda thunk?). Most likely, we'll end up with a goose or two as both "weeders" and guards. There's nothing like an attack goose to get your attention.

Who knows.....we may end up with rabbits too. I can see it now, "Wandy's Witto Wabbit Wanch". Has kinda of a ring to it, eh? 

Our family raised rabbits when I was about 13 years old. They aren't all that much trouble and certainly to do multiply without much assistance. They're good eatin', too. It's dark meat and a bit like chicken (you knew I was going to say that, didn't you?). But, it's the truth. Good stuff.

I grew up eating rabbits and squirrels. Just fry them up and dodge the buckshot when you dig in. The wild rabbits around here are a bit "gamey" tasting but that could be a seasonal thing as I don't recall that being the case prior to now.

That's the news from Rancho Relaxo. Hang around....things could get.....interesting.