RANCHO BUSYO

 

I have to tell you, Anacortes, WA is one of the prettiest places I've ever seen. Lots to see, lots to do, and lots to eat. How can it not be a favorite?!

Six pix of Washington Park. Click on any picture to enlarge it.  

You  may not know it but Washington grows lots of potatoes. Potatoes are our friends! It's just one more reason to love his place. 

To the right is a shot looking east at about 8AM. Instead of a nice bright sun shiny summer morning, we see what looks like a foggy winter morning. We have the "SQF Complex Fire" only 20 miles up the hill from us. It has burned almost 69,000 acres in the "Golden Trout Wildeness Area" and is about 12% contained. It'll be hazy for quite some time. 

This is not a speck on your screen. It's a Boeing Vertol CH-47 "Chinook" helicopter hauling water to the "SQF Complex". 

Here is a shot of our Barred Rock hen and her chick. Interestingly, a Lace Wing Wyandotte high-jacked the job of mothering and took her place. The Rock just walked away from the job! As the little pullet got larger, it became obvious she was a cross between a Rhode Island Red and a Wyandotte. Perhaps it's a DNA thing. 

Here's our ever-diligent guard doggy with her ear...and nose....and head....and legs....and feet....and tail....to the ground. She's committed. She does such a great job of guarding the night that she's prone to napping during the day. She's pretty tired for being so tireless. 

Well, here we are again. It’s September and the year is speeding by faster than Chuck Yeager in "Glamorous Glennis" on October 14, 1947. We’re all headed for our next birthday at supersonic speed. Oh, joy. Doesn’t that just make you want to get your annual checkup from Dr. Frank N. Furter? 

The old folks are still getting their act together after the great trip to Boise and Seattle. We're still a bit lacking in rest but we're not trip-spun like we were. There were lots and lots of things to do before we left on the trip and there were lots and lots of things remaining when we got back (amazing, eh?). 

Then, you have to factor in the usual adjuncts that invariably will be added to the "things to do" list and you have non-stop fun at the ranch. Like: the lawn tractor and weed-eater are in the shop and it took a lot of work just to get the trailer ready so we could haul it to Agri-Home. The trailer wiring needed to be repaired and it needed a new set of shoes.  The Ol' Rancher repaired the wiring and we found the tires at "Les Schwab's". That meant that we had to to go P'ville to have them mounted which takes more time away from the ranch than we wanted to (and you know the drill on that). 

We're still racking, packing, and hauling stuff that folks have given us and we're getting ready for a few yards sales prior to the annual big one during the third weekend in October. We're even trying to factor in some time for rest (rotsa ruck with that, Ran)!

The garden boxes require constant supervision but especially the calabasas zapolla squash. It's sensitive to stress so has to be watered a lot. That takes...time. We've harvested one 10lb squash and have several that are ripening. Looks like Connie the Canner will have a lot of work to deal with fairly soon. 

Since our regular squash and tomato harvest has been almost non-existent, there's not as much canning happening. But, Connie the Canner is making up for it by being Connie the Dehydrator. She has a slew of dehydrators set up and is keeping them busy. 

And, in the next few weeks, we'll be hauling stuff from the hangar for the yard sales. In the mean time, we're readying stuff that we can just park in the front yard and sell. So far, we sold some furniture and brought in a few bucks. Bucks are our friends!

We're also listing as much as we can (or as much as we have time for) on Craig's List. That's always a sure way to sell a few things. eBay hasn't been as productive but it hasn't been a priority so far. There are a few things listed but the only things that sold have been some ham radio equipment. But, like my ol' grand-pappy used so say, "A few dollars is better than no dollars". 

Anyway, not a lot of moss growing around the ranch. We're kickin' and makin' lots of dust  (which is all we need considering all the smoke and ash that we already have floating around). 

Holy Smokes! Or, Settin’ the woods on fire: actually, there’s smoke and fire everywhere and it’s not holy smoke at all! In fact, it’s raining ashes in most places in California! There are more than 500 fires happening here in the Golden Toasted State!!  

Our fire, the “SQF Complex” (https://inciweb.nwcg.gov/incident/7048/), is less than 20 miles from us and has consumed more than 65K acres. Much to our chagrin, a lot of the smoke and ash has taken up residence in our front and back yards.

Now, I’ve lived in California most of my life. Never have we had this many fires. How do you go from more than 300 fires to more than 500 fires in one week? Seriously; sure, we have a fires that are initiated by lightning: but, 200 in one week? The worst fire seasons to date have had “only” 150 or so fires. Why the inordinate three-fold increase with more than 200 fires appearing in one week?

The US Forest Service is advising that there were more than 27K lightning strikes but I’d like to know how they got that number. Just who is it that flits around the state counting lightning strikes? Hmmm? Is it “Hairy Larry the Lightning Fairy” or just what? Is someone cocooned in geo-stationary orbit over California with a hand-held thumb-actuated tabulator? To me, something is wrong with the picture especially when there haven’t been all that many thunderstorms in SOCAL where many of the fires are located. I’m probably missing something (and, I hope I am).

We’re not alone, though. A map of the fires shows that then entire western region is ablaze. The truly interesting thing is that the fires all magically stop at the Canadian border (simply look at the fire map). Interesting, indeed. 

This old Californian has never seen such a  blazing onslaught (including last year!). The respective fire agencies are doing a fabulous job but, in some spots, they aren’t winning.

And, now, everyone is staying inside because of the smoke and not solely because of the virus issue. Just what we need: another reason to stay home and veg (which I refuse to do).

The local visibility has been down to less than a mile in some places. On a fair day in late summer during harvest and post harvest, it’s around 5 miles; normal is “CAVU” or a minimum of 10 miles.

People are dealing with ash to whatever degree, too. Cars are being coated with a fine layer of light gray. It’s almost like being in downtown Beijing or Bombay in the summertime. We need a good old-fashioned Oklahoma “frog strangler” summer rain to clear the air and give us a good cleaning and soaking.

What Lockdown? or “Rot Not” Is My Lot: really? Do “they” think that this ol’ dusty squash farmer and egg rancher is going to sit home and gather moss and let his body and brain rot away because “they” commanded me to do that?!  I call “FOUL!” and do vehemently yell, “FIE! FIE! UPON THEM!” (yes. All of you Shakespeare lovers do remember correctly).

Why would they think that everyone would just sit, stew, fret their life away, garner a washtub load of depression, booze themselves silly, and go to every length to be taken captive of  hopelessness and despair?! Do they think that  all of us old folks will just dial in the next “Three Stooges” marathon and veg unto dusty death while the leaves of the calendar silently and inexorably shed into the abyss called “Yesterday”?! Forsooth! It ain’t happenin’, buckos!

For Connie the Canner and Rancho Ran, there has been no lockdown. In fact, we have hardly notice any such thing. We just do what we always do: get things done that have to be done. Geeze. What can “they” do, eat me ? (Well...they can bite me). This is not Cabanatuan (WW2 Japanese prison camp)! We can do what we please when we please. So, we have taken the Alfred E. Newman attitude of “What? Me worry?”.

We ain’t afraid of no ghosts and certainly not a bug whose survival rate is at least 99% (if you have a healthy immune system) and whose infection rate is about the same as any flu season.

If you’re not in a nursing home, the odds of getting the bug in Tulare County are about the same as getting hit by a dump truck load of dead chickens at midnight on Sunday in a snow storm on Main Street in beautiful downtown Porterville.

Rat-a-tat or Abbie Wins Again! – There’s no mistaking a baying coon dog: not when you have heard that sound time and again and have found some sort of critter (be it large or small) on the business end of that bark. This time was no different.

The baying was, once again, coming from the front of the neighbor’s home (isn’t it great that my sweet little girl dog is so civic minded that she wants to protect the neighbor, too? Uh-huh). A quick glance revealed the Abbie was at the exact same spot where she had previously treed a ground squirrel (which met its demise for being stupid enough to venture into her guarded area). She was all jacked up at the same 4” open-ended drain pipe.

This time was a bit different. There was no “barking” to be heard which meant that, whatever she had cornered, it wasn’t a squirrel. The initial thought was that she was wasting far too much energy for it to be a small lizard. But, she would do that.

Of course, the same long hose was immediately available for use. Ah, but when the water was unleashed to try to flush out the critter, it didn’t immediately come out like the squirrel did. Not to be thwarted by such a small-brained creature (although it wouldn’t have been the first time. *SIGH*), my lightning-fast mind figured that the hose just needed to be pushed in further and further until something ran out the other side of the 10’ pipe.

YEP! That did it! A big ol’ rat darted right into Abbie’s Buick bumper-bending bite and that was that! She pranced off into the sunset with her new trophy. Fearless Abbie – 1; nasty ugly soggy varmint – 0.

Maggot city, USA or Feathery Feeding Frenzy: the other day (when lots of things happen around here), the daily compost run was in progress when the ol’ chicken meister took note of the bottom of one of his compost barrels. Lo and behold if there wasn’t a huge layer of maggots just waiting to be chicken fodder! A tin can was grabbed and put to work as a loader and a big mess of maggots was hauled up. Squiggly protein!

Now, my girls love bugs. They are ruthless bug slayers. There’s no bug too tough or maggot too rough that can overcome them when they are hungry (which is 100% of the time). There was no chance at the dance for the squirmy little slop suckers to survive my ravenous raptors and none of them did. The bird herd got down on their wiggling snacks and went to work like a hoard of hungry jack hammers. It was great!

After a couple of heapin’ helpin’s, the feast was postponed until the next day. No reason to overly spoil them, eh? It’s not like they are starving (though you couldn’t tell it by their actions). Maggots are our friends!

The next day found the remainder of the legless protein being totally consumed with not a single one of them left in the barrel. It’s little wonder our yard birds are so healthy.

Soldering on (sic): on some occasions, the Ol’ Rancher has to grab his 30W soldering iron and solder stuff. Something always needs to be glued, fixed, or mended around the ranch. That includes repair needs regarding radios, antennas, and other electronics. These are repairs that Super Glue, epoxy, and hot glue won’t work on.

The other day, I needed to make a cable for my “straight key” for my ham radio (for Morse code). I have a few automatic keyers but still need the straight key from time to time. If you win the lottery and don’t know what to get me for Christmas, you can send me a semi-automatic keyer. It’s called a “bug” (short for “jitterbug”) and it’s made by “Vibroplex” and it’s a beaut. You’ll get a really big hug.

I had a couple of them in times past but faded from Ham radio for quite a while and didn’t need them; I sold them. Silly me. All the other equipment and radios have been restored except for the bug. Auto keyers are nice but there’s just nothing like a “bug” to add personality and distinctness to one’s “fist” (the way you operate and send CW). These “bugs” are my friends.

A straight key helps in tuning the radio when it’s being used with an antenna tuner and SWR meter. You key the transmitter then tune the antenna with the tuner until the SWR is as low as it can get. You then start “pounding brass”.

CW is kind of a lost art since Ham’s are no longer are required to know Morse Code to have a license. When the ol’ ham dude upgraded his license in ’94, the 20wpm code speed requirement was still in place. I’m rather rusty but a bit of practice and a few drops of WD-40 should go a long way in loosening up my fist.

There are still some old guys like Ol’ Ran, the Luddite, who still find CW (short for “continuous wave”) a fun thing. That’s especially true concerning QRP which is “low power”. Usually, QRP (the “Q code” abbreviation for using low power) is any wattage below 25W. But, there are some few of us die-hards that only consider it to be QRP when you are running less than 5W (sometimes called “QRPp”).

Who’s yer momma?: A few weeks ago, one of our Barred Rock brooders hatched a couple of chicks. Sadly, she lost one of them. But, she took to being a great mother hen to the remaining little chick and did all of the mother hen things that mother hens are supposed to do.

Then, a really strange thing happened. After about a week or so, one of the Lace Wing Wyandotte hens began to follow along with the Barred Rock. In only a few days, the Wyandotte totally took over being the mother hen! What was amazing was that the Barred Rock didn’t seem to mind at all! She just moseyed off into the barn yard never to be bothered with the matter again. There was no fight, no muss, no fuss and I didn't see an exchange of drugs or money. If I were Artie Johnson (from "Laugh In"), I'd be inclined to say something like (best German accent), "Very interesting....but strange!". 

That was wild because the Rock was a tremendous protector of the little one! One evening when the chicks were only a couple of days old, she was outside the coop door and wasn’t going inside. Around here, it isn’t wise for chickens to stay unprotected at night because there are too many furry critters looking for an uncooked and un-plucked meal.

When the ol’ bird herder tried to pick her up and haul her inside, she came unglued like a hand grenade! It was almost like hand-to-hand combat on Iwo Jima! She lost the battle but there was almost a need to call a medic for the winner. That lesson was learned! Don't mess with momma hens! For now, the hen and chick are allowed to hide and fend for themselves. They are still alive so it looks like mother knows best.

The chick (which now looks like a little pullet) is a cross between a Rhode Island Red (“Ol’ Roo”) and either a Barred Rock or a Wyandotte. Roo, being the plucky cluck that he is, gets around and covers lots of ground (and would still do so if he had a wooden leg) and is far from picky or biased (he would have made a great dog). The  hens must like him 'cause they lay a lot of eggs. 

At this point, it’s difficult to tell what the chick is most like. But, in due season, the matter should be known. If it turns out to be a Wyandotte, then it will be difficult to think something other than the DNA connection had something to do with the easy high-jacking of the chick by the Wyandotte hen.

Perhaps we can call the new cross-bred chick a Red Rock or a Red Dotte. It’s just one of those things that happen at Rancho Relaxo.

Chick update: upon closer examination, and as the she has grown, she is definitely a Wyandotte crossed with the Rhode Island Red. She's a real cutie!

There you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo, home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died), home of a retarded duck, and home of Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-kook): where the air smells like fresh sun-dried laundry: where things can get...interesting: where it’s all news to me: and, where...you just never know.