Rancho Radio Swampo

Here's Grandma Connie with two grandkinders Moira Alise  and shiny-new Warner Phillip. They are the two youngest of the Howden's 6 youngin's. Their mother home schools them and they are every one brighter than the average search light and that's not a joke or an exaggeration.

Here's some of the "Poop Coop Group" featuring the "Peck-Apart-Pullets". We're up to almost two dozen eggs per day now and that number should double soon! Let's see....where did I put that omelet recipe book? We have Barred Rocks, Polish, Rhode Island Reds, Sex-links, Buff Orpingtons, Leghorns, Araucanas, and a lone Silky (and would be looking for a partridge if there were a pear tree nearby). There's been some chatter about bringing aboard some Guinea fowls but that could happen later if and when we let the critters free range. 

Chickens are really goofy creatures. Here are a couple of the Rhode Island Red pullets wallowing in a shallow bowl area they scratched out. They're taking a "dirt bath" by slinging dirt up on top of themselves and enjoying it (which leads one to call them "dirty birds").

OK...before someone accuses Ol' Ran of smoking some of the green zucchini leaves from his garden boxes because of the goofy title, I need to 'splain some things. But, before I do, I need to advise that I was going to complain how fast the time was blitzing by and that the year is already half over. But, I can't do that now. That's because that happened last month!  So, time has flown by so quickly that I missed the half way mark for the year. How revolting. 

Anyway, let's start with the "swamp" part of what's happening at the ranch. We had a major stoppage in our septic system. "No biggy", says I. I've handled such things prior to this time and managed to save the day without having to call the "Rooto-Rooter" dude. Ol' Ran grabbed his trusty garden hose and the expandable line bladders and went to work....and work I did. After quite awhile, the line was finally cleared. That was a mighty fine thing since it was midnight at the oasis and we had already sent the camels to bed. The farm hands were mighty bushed from a long and busy day.

Alas, the self high-fiving bliss didn't last long at all. A few days later the Clog from the Black Lagoon was back for a rematch and, with a vengeance, was looking to exact a costly payback. Little did I know just how much lighter my bank account would be after his second defeat.

Connie and I had dashed the 3.5 miles to beautiful downtown Springville to drop off the mail and pick up some chicken feed. I doubt if we were gone more than about 30 minutes. Imagine our surprise when we entered the rear door of the house and encountered at least an inch of water! My lightning-fast mind said, "This could get interesting". Needless to say, the rest of the day's scheduled and unscheduled festivities were immediately cancelled and put on hold for the duration.

We mulled the matter over and after extrapolating the "givens" (including the given that I didn't have the time, gumption, or spizzerinctum to mess with this any longer), I called for help. Thankfully, Mr. Rooter-Tooter was "Johnny-on-the-spot" and was there within a couple of hours.

The septic tank had been pumped out about 5 years ago so we were thinking that just the two of us couldn't have filled it up again even if giving it our best shot. However, the symptoms were screaming at me that it was full again and that there was a better-than-average chance that the 4" line was compromised in some way.

After Mr. Tooter and the Sucking Crew (they do music gigs at night) finished their toiling (better them than me! I'm not into toiling nowadays), they confirmed my diagnosis. We now had an empty 1,500 gallon septic tank and a routed-out-but-still-broken pipe that will need to be fixed at some point.

Considering that the ack-ack hit from the invoice froze my diaphragm (which made me hypoxic and slightly exopthalmic), I may come out of my anti-toiling mode and just dig a hole and fix the dang thang (sheeeese. That almost sounds Vietamese.....like....I'm on my way to Dang Thang for a hot bowl of Pho). I can do it for about 40 bucks and a pound of sweat whereas the pros want 160 dollars. Prior to parting with any more moolah, I'm going to give it the ol' Jack Benny for now (i. e."I'm thinking. I'm thinking"). Fie on you, evil Clog!

Let's talk about the "Rancho Radio" part now: most folks know that Ol' Rancho Ran is a "hamster". That, of course, means he is a licensed amateur radio operator/Ham and has been for mucho años. And, there is a nice "ham shack" in the upper forward part of the barn waiting to be used for this purpose. However, though blessed with a gift of gab, he hasn't had a transceiver to throw words at. That has recently changed.

In Ham radio, there are different bands on which one may blabberate or on which to use CW (morse code). Some are HF (high frequency), VHF (very high frequency), and UHF (ultra-high frequency). I have a couple of dual-band VHF/UHF HT's (handy talkies) but haven't used them hardly at all.

This preface is so you can understand that my new gear plus my existing HT's will cover all the Ham bands! With the Ham rigs, SW (short wave) equipment, a couple of CB radios to cover the 11 meter band, and my ICOM IC-R7000 VHF/UHF receiver (receives up to 2.0ghz), I can go just about anywhere on the spectrum for a peek. 

Now the good part; a friend of mine who owns a hanger just two doors to the north of ours recently passed (we're not to the good part yet). He was a Ham radio operator and had all kinds of equipment. The guy was a retired professional avionics technician and had all the best gear available. Not long after he died, his nephew contacted me regarding his uncle's equipment. Connie and I met him a few days later at the hanger and was I shocked!

When we drove up, there was a huge display of transceivers, test equipment, cables, wires, microphones, RTTY gear, several mobile Ham antennas, watt meters, two ICOM automatic antenna tuners, power supplies, and boxes and boxes of what all! 

A transceiver that I've wanted for a long time was there in the midst; it was an ICOM 706 MKIIG. Just one Icom IC-706 MKIIG transceiver sold new for 1,200 dollars! But, wait! There were two of them sitting there! I almost needed to tidy my didy! Added to that, there was an ICOM IC-735 HF transceiver to boot! 

Also parked in the crowd of equipment was a little Yaesu FT-814A that sells new for about 650 dollars. It's a QRP (low power) rig that has an output of only a watt more than a CB radio (5W vs 4W for CB). All in all, there were seven transceivers in the lot! 

Not everyone knows that Ol' Ran the Ham is a "QWERP TWERP" which is a "QRP" (low power) nerd that thinks that any power over 10 watts is too much. I started with low power early on before the ink was even dry on my new Ham ticket. I built and operated 10MW and 100MW transmitters (9 volt) and used them to communicate all over town. Later, in 1978, I had a Heathkit HW-7 QRP transceiver that ran about 2.5 watts output on 40 meters and a bit less on 15 and 20 meters. I let that little cutie get away from me and I regret it to this day. The little 2 watt NorCal NC-40 QRP transceiver I just got in the new lot of radios helped to take away some of the sting, though. 

The gentleman advised that he really didn't want to mess with having to sell everything separately and shot us a price for the whole shootin' match. I almost fell over when he quoted a price that was less than one new radio! Of course, the answer was "Yes!".

Long story longer: after we loaded everything up in the van I uninstalled the second 706 MKII from his uncle's 1956 Thunderbird. It was great just to get to sit in one again. I hadn't sat in one since 1967 when I got to drive my friend, Eric's, '56 T-Bird. The battery was dead so I didn't get to hear it growl. Perhaps at a later date they'll fire that baby up and that hefty high-compression, short-stroke 292CID  V-8 can pump some memories into my brain.  "I am T-Bird. Hear me roar!".

Now, all that the Ol' Ham Hand has to do is string up an antenna, hook up a transceiver to a power supply and an antenna (not yet functional), spin the knobs on my antenna tuner, and get to talkin' or tappin'. There should be a window of opportunity to do that on my ....next day off.

There were 4 really nice automatic code keyers in the deal but I really prefer the semi-automatic keyers. Not sure why. Guess it's because I had a couple of them and got used to using them. At least one of the keyers is a collectible since only 400 of them were ever made. They're also vintage. I'll likely sell one and pick up a "bug" keyer. We'll see.

Time for some chicken checkin': 

It's probably not possible to explain to someone why you would have an affinity for a stupid, feathery, fertilizer-producing, omnivore that lives to lay eggs, make loud screeching noises (B'GAAAK!!), chases coop-mates around trying to snatch their food from their mouths, and such. Maybe it's a cry for help but.....I love chickens! Can't you hear it now? "Hi. My name is Randy and I'm a bird brain" "Hi, Randy". *SIGH*. 

Perhaps it's "Kenny Leghorn", the rooster, crowing early in the morning that endears me to farm living with its attendant critters. In any case, if it is a malady, I really don't want the cure. It's just a hoot to watch the birdies flock around the goodies you toss to them and see them shred the stuff like a new "Kitchen Aid" food processor. Maybe it's the gathering of the eggs and thinking that every day is Easter. After all, our hens lay blue, green, light brown, dark brown, and white eggs.

These well-fed healthy feathered friends are all happy as a preacher with a new microphone and seem to be rather tame at this point. They certainly aren't afraid of us at all and even eat out of our hands. Some even approach you and demand food from you!  You haven't lived until you've been mugged by a Buff Orpington.

"Kenny Leghorn" is the ruler of the roost. He sort of slipped in and we've let him stay around at least for now despite the fact that we gave away three other roosters. Our neighbor, Ken, advised that he loves to hear the rooster crow in the mornings. So, we named after Ken and let him take over the roost! We're not sure how long this will last given that there was absolutely no intent of selling fertilized eggs or raising baby chicks. The last thing on our minds was having a herd of mother cluckers running loose around here with their brood of coyote bait following after them. We'll see.

As a quick aside, Lovey Dovey just raised two more chicks in the flower basket on our front porch. They flew off yesterday to join the rest of the local coo'ers and just before I could get a nice picture of them (I did get one but I used the cell phone and the pic was lousy). It's really neat to hear the doves in the morning and evening times. Lovey Dovey and her mate have been around here for probably 5 years or so. It's great!

We have to wear old rubber shoes when in the coop. At first they were "chicken coop shoes". Then they were "coop shoes". Now, they are just "chooze" which is a combination of the others and bearing a humorous exonym inference.  

And, you really don't want to wear your "chooze" into the house (at least not while Connie is looking). The penalty for this particular "Thou Shalt Not!" is severe. Let's just say that the "good news" is that there is a 15 minute intermission during the flogging so that Connie can use the rest room. This is one of the times when you really have to pay attention.

The Princess Abbie report:

What can you say when your pretty, once well-kempt, princess coonhound turns into a dirty dog? There's probably no happier or healthier pooch that ever chased its tail than our girl-pup. But, she's a dirt lover! It's almost like she's getting some coaching from Maggie on this little trick. Maggie's full-time job was resisting baths and staying dirty. Abbie is quickly learning to do much the same (though she does love water). It's not uncommon for her to show up at the door covered with grass and dirt! What are we going to do? Are we going to shampoo and shine her up just to watch her do a hog wallow within 30 seconds? Not today. We're just going to let her abdicate her throne and be a "farm dog". She'll remain as happy as a frog in a new pond (she'll need to lose the pink collar, though).

She has this "thing" with streaming water that is wild to watch. I'm not sure what she's thinking but she attacks streaming water with all of her might! I tried taking a video of her doing battle with the hose but the audio was muted somehow. I'll try again later. It's something else to watch her leaping and snappping at the water!

Whatever her antics and whatever her state of cleanliness, she's still our darlin' doggy. You could say she's 5 pounds of sweetness and love poured into a 3 pound sack and is a real keeper.

Well, farm fans, it's that time of night that I need to hurry off to bed before I turn into an overweight, middle-aged, furry pumpkin in public (at least not without a support group at hand). Remember: stay tuned and don't touch that round knob that changes channels. Things could get....interesting.   

Rancho Pero, Pollos, y Huevos

"Say....you wouldn't happen to be through with that gorgeous baloney sandwich, would you?". Our little barkasaurus likes to dash in and suddenly appear in your face. "Dear Abbie........we need to talk".

I love having a huntin' dog! No Gypsies can ever sneak up behind you! I lived to fight another day!

We finally got our patio finished! The contractor, Rob Sanford and crew, did a great job. The lattice work turned out great! Now, if our chickens free range, they won't be roosting on our patio! The furniture came from dear friends, the Piazzas, who moved to the coast of Oregon and sold stuff they didn't want to haul. We got their patio furniture! The table has a glass top and is beautiful! I can just smell the BBQ warming up now! Kindly disregard the date. Yours truly forgot to reset the time when  he changed the batteries on his digi-cam.Reckon it'll be awhile before I'm a professional.

Some of our mature layers. They are true producers! The greens they are parsing are the chopped up produce tailings from a local supermarket. Our chickens undoubtedly have the most well-rounded diet of any fowls to be found. They get "Layena" pellets, chicken scratch, and greens! That's balanced, I'd say! The light green "doo-dah" to the far right is one of two designated chicken watering troughs. We also have 4 "inverted bottle" waterers and a five gallon water bucket with nipples on the bottom that the chickens nudge for a drink. We don't want any powdered eggs!

That's Connie's egg basket hanging from our chicken's "chill pole". The seem to dig flying up there and parking for a spell.

We got eggs!! Later in the day, there'll be another 6 or more to collect. The pullets aren't producing yet so the "regulars" are tossing 1 1/2 dozen eggs per day at us. We're scrambling to get our networking done and our fliers, and other advertising in place for when our pullets go to work. So far, we're keeping up with production and it looks like more will be coming in.

Here's Abbie meeting the Peckenpaw sisters who are members of the "No Luck Dumb Cluck Club". From left are: Pecky Sue, Henrietta, and Peckahontas (rumor has it she had a different father).

Because the hen house is also the repository of no small amount of chicken droppings (a topic for another posting but a rather interesting one, nonetheless), we use designated sandals with which to trod through the crap carpet. It preserves the sanctity of Connie's well cared for floors and carpet. Well, here at the ranch, we don't just wear sandals! No, sireee! We wear Poop Coop Booties. Has a nice ring to it, eh? Sounds like the makin's of a new Country Music ditty!
Lest we go "EEEEEEeeeeeeewwwww!" all at the same time, we keep a deep layer of straw and sawdust on the floor. So, our trampling about is not as bad as it may first appear. We keep the coop pretty clean and haul the old stuff to a compost pile (a really large compost pile) out in back between the bees and the oranges.



OK...so....just where is all the time going (and so quickly)? I know...Ol' Ran is ranting about the rapid elapsing of time ...again. But, think about it; if there were no bleating about how it's already well into the year without any knowledge of what happened, no one would believe that this was an authentic posting, now, would they?! I still hate it that we're staring the front the end of June in the face. 

Anyway, all is well here at the Rancho. I must say that we are truly blessed....and tired. I guess it's OK to be both. To say that Rancho Ran and his side-cook, Canning Connie, are busy is about like saying that Texas is getting some rain. We try to get enough rest but sometimes must (emphasis on the "must") allow a nap to come upon us and overtake us. So far, we managed to be captured only a few times but are giving due diligence to not outrun these persistent pursuers. They surely are welcomed when they do nab us (especially when we least expect it).  What with phone calls, company, people dropping off computers, ministry, and whatever other exigencies of life that are presented, our excursions into refreshment are usually brief. But, c'est la vie. We takes what we can gets and yawn from there.

Imagine; only a few weeks ago, we could spell "Chicken Ranchers" but were only "thinnin' about it" (as in: "I'll do the thinnin' around here, Baba!" - my pal, Quickdraw McGraw. All you old people remember that!). In fact, we were thinnin' about perhaps 4 layers or so and thought that having a few fresh eggs on hand would be good idea. Now, we're collecting more than a dozen eggs....per day! That's marvy! But, our 23 pullets haven't started laying yet!! They should start producing around the end of July or first part of August. It's difficult for us to comprehend having 3 or 4 dozen eggs per day with which to deal/market. It never crossed my mind for a moment that we'd ever be swimming in egg yolks someday!

At this point, we are making inroads for marketing our "Rancho Eggs". We have fliers and business cards prepared and are letting everyone we know that we have fresh eggs available. Given the encroaching egg "crisis" (precipitated by the "chicken flu" in the mid-west), and that we are only selling ours for only slightly above that of the supermarket (3 bucks per doz.), and we should have huevos flying out of the coop. Hmmmm....wonder if we should change our name to "The Flying Huevos Ranch"? It does have a nice ring to it! NAW!  If I can get to it (sure...on my next day off.), I'll even rustle up a "Facebook" page to go along with the new e-mail addy (ranchorelaxoeggs@gmail.com). Methinks our new motto may be "Got Eggs?".

And, if that doesn't just chuck dirt in your yurt, we may be picking up another 15 or so layers soon! An acquaintance has a brother  who is tired of his chickens and is looking for a new home for them. If he throws his chickens at us, we won't duck.

Connie, the Chickenator, does much of the care taking for our new feathery charges and she is doing a great job. I doubt if she ever thought she would be a "chicken grandma" and tending a brood of 42 feathery "grand-chicks". She takes the produce trimmings from a couple of the local supermarkets and chops them all up for them and adds table scraps to the huge pile. The heap'o greens are added to the regular "Layena" and "chicken scratch" already in their feeders. They love her to pieces and come running without even being called! She is the best chicken sitter around. "Ol' Connie the Chicken Sitter"...has sort of a ring to it, eh? I think she's hoping that no one gives us a bull!

Speaking of "Canning Connie", she's already canning stuff! Folks have been throwing veggie and fruit goodies at us and it  goes right into the hot bath! The other day, a friend tossed some fresh strawberries at her so she got right to it and made some jam! Ziggity! That ought to go well with the new bucket of vanilla ice cream we just brought home!  Then, there's the pile of green beans that the supermarket unloaded prior to them getting overripe. We rescued them from their shopping cart display and got them for about half-price and Connie shoved them into her canner. Green beans are our friends! Later in the season, we should be getting more green beans, squash, zucchini, tomatoes and what all from our garden boxes. And, our prune tree is ready for harvest! I can just here the pressure cooker-canner rockin' now!

Princess Abbie report: well...what can I say? Our darling princess (aka "Coonie" or "Goombah" depending upon her behavior) is settled into her realm and becoming a real farm dog. The lay of the land is now mapped in her skull so not much gets by her.  She is not without fault, though (royalty rarely are, eh?). She's a bit of a chewer and a snatch-and-hauler and will conscript whatever innocent item that is within reach to be the next victim of a good gnawing session. It's usually something plastic but not always. We almost nicknamed her "Chewie". 

She's also a climber which is what a friend advised us about and to watch for. She scaled a couple of obstacles the other day so she could investigate what was in Connie's egg basket that had been set in a "safe place" while she tended the chickens in the coop. She pulled the egg basket to the ground which left four eggs conveniently broken and ready to serve. That foray netted her some delicious fresh eggs and a good scolding. I was hoping to not have to refer to my pretty princess as an "egg sucking dog" but I may not have an option. *SIGH*.

She got to romp and stomp for about half of the day today with the new neighbor's big long-haired dog. He is about three times her size but that didn't slow our huntin' doggie down at all. She had him on the run 100% of the time! He had jumped his electric fence while his owners were away and wanted to explore the new territory. The bad part was that they ended up assaulting a mud hole at ninety miles per hour and came out covered with ten pounds of muck. It'll take a long bath and a jug of dog-wash before our princess will be pretty again.

Now...this pooch is a non-stop hunting machine. She is bred to hunt all night long and is almost tireless and is also terribly attentive to every small detail.  She's so high strung that, if she were a guitar, her E string would break! Morning, noon, or night, it's time to play NOW and she lets you know by shoving her fetch toys in your face. When she fetches, it's at a dead run. Only, it's more like she's flying! That's not an exaggeration! She leaps almost like a dear and it appears that she spends as much time in the air as on the ground! She's unreal! I've never seen such an animal that can't and won't quit. It's flat out or nothing which makes her the epitome of the proverbial "full throttle model"

But, that means she's a handful, to say the least. Think about it: she's an energetic puppy, hyper-active, and hyper-vigilant meaning that she's genetically engineered to be ADD. What else need I say? 

When we feed out cluckers, Abbie is right there to make sure she's part of the operation. I'm still not sure whether she wants to invite them home for lunch or use them as fetch toys. Some people have a Australian Sheep Dog, some have a sled dog, some have laps dogs, and some have a watch dog. We thought we had a coon-hound but now I think we have a Tennessee Chicken Dog.  But, we love her to pieces. For better or for worse, she's still 25 pounds of high-speed huntin' muscle.

Wonder of wonders if Ol' Ran didn't fire up his big Webber Genesis Grill after it had set patiently on the patio for almost a year ! There were some pork steaks and some hamburger hiding in the fidg-a-fator (at least that's what my daughter called it when she was 2) that were calling our names. So, the next thing you know, I had one on my plate smothered with par-grilled then pan fried potatoes and topped with 4 sunny-side-up fresh eggs! Connie scarfed down a large "humburger" (I'll let you in on that one later). Life is good! 

 We're lookin' at a high temp tomorrow of about 88 deg. and there's no snow in the forecast (dang! I could have used at least 2" of good cold white stuff). That's a bit out of my comfort zone especially since, only two days ago, it was overcast and around 70 degrees. And, it's expected to get warmer every single day from now on until probably early October. The good news is that our A/C unit and "Ol' Swampy" have been checked and serviced and are set to cool the ranch hands down. We have a huge supply of teas too. Our ice maker is working nominally so we should be braced for the long hot summer. It could get ugly. I think we may even see more of "Captain Underpants" hanging around the place. 

Well, farm fans, it's time to batten down the press for the night. The chickens are roosting, the farmhands are fed, Abbie is on guard, and all is fairly tidy. Lots to do tomorrow and plenty yet tonight. Stay tuned for further episodes and escapades of  "Rancho Relaxo". Things could get....interesting. 

Rancho Dusto

Ain't she a beaut?! We figure that it will take until about the year 2525 (if man is still alive) to sell enough eggs to break even on this gig.

 This is about as close as I care to get to there being a chicken playground at our ranch.

Heeeeere, chick, chick, chick! These little gals have already eaten enough chow to satisfy a herd of elephants. Something  tells me that I need to start looking for "options" concerning chicken feed before my eggs start costing 20 bucks apiece. I do have some ideas.

That's just wood shavings on the floor of the coop. We just found out that the sawmill above Springville will give us all the sawdust we can haul off for free.....free is our friend.

Ol' Gardenin' Granny. She now has a bunch of green goodies in the boxes (bless her sweaty little heart).

Here's Wooly Pully loaded with some hay for the roosting boxes. We're at the local feed store in Porterville.

The framing is finished for the lattice work. They just finished the gate for the center section. It has two parts with each part folding in the center and it's supported by two large casters on each part.

    Our tradesmen getting it all together.

HAY!! This is actually rice straw instead of wheat straw. The feed store was out of the "regular" stuff. I doubt if it will make a difference to the hens.

 Abbie (aka Princess Sniffasaurus) checking out what's happening in her realm. She pays attention! No Gypsies allowed!

The longer section of the patio with the framing in place.

Sometimes...even a princess needs a nap. I'm of a ready mind to rename the place "Rancho Nappo".  We didn't even have to train her to do this. She's actually only following what she sees us do.









Here we are....again....staring April in the face. I could have sworn that March just got here. Does this line sound familiar? It should; I've used this same gripe a number of times these past few years. Really....it's not that I'm out of things to say. It's just so bloody unbelievable that summer is almost here and I didn't even get to wear my leather jacket this year!

Reckon we can all rationalize that we're one month closer to the end of the earth, eh? I mean....even if it takes awhile, the end will be here (scientists estimate at least 1.75 billion years). I have plans until then.

Things are "moving along" here at the ranch. Our irrigation water will be turned on in a few days. By law, all ditches in CA have to be shut down for three weeks and cleaned. I don't mind it except.....they do it right when I need to get my garden, trees, and lawn watered before everything croaks. Gee....thanks, guys.

The water comes from the Tule River. Guess what? The Ol' Tule is at...zero flow....again. We're out of snow and therefore, out of water. This will make year three that the Tule has suffered this condition and things will not be pretty at all. This is an unprecedented drought condition so I suspect that water rationing will be just around the corner.

 One cannot but feel quite sorry for the good folks down on the flat land in the Valley. In some places, they are still receiving water...by truck! Some have had to move on while others are toughing it out because they can't afford to relocate.

 We "Foothill-ians" tend be thankful for being somewhat sequestered (though not really isolated) from the flat and featureless farmland near us (the Foots and the Flats really do get along). The water dynamics, though related, are not identical. Most of us get our water either from SPUD (Springville Public Utility District) which gets its water from the Tule River and/or from personal  (Rancho Relaxo) or corporate water wells (e.g. Del Oro Water Co. based in Maglia, CA just north of Paradise...I know.... I had never heard of the place either and I've been to Paradise more than twice). Not sure where SPUD gets its water if the river actually dries up but my guess is that they have a well or two up their sleeve.

That's a good thing...sort of. The Valley floor has dropped at least 4 feet since I was in high school thanks to the interminable sucking of water from beneath our feet (another good "straight line" that will be forfeited by the Rancho comedian .....for now).

It will be interesting to see how the new draconian water legislation enacted last year will affect us. If I understand correctly, the STATE now has all authority over all water and has the "right" to control and dictate all production and usage. In fact, if you have "too much" water (i.e. if you have more than "your fair share" of water), the state can TAKE/STEAL whatever it wants and leave you lacking and without sufficient water so that someone else will have their water needs met. That way, we're all equal. 

Moving along to the chicken forecast (B'GAAAK!)......looks like fair feathering in the near future with much plumage developing not long afterwards (noooot quite ready for the 6 o'clock news). The coop is finished and our plumage producing pullets are neatly stuffed inside and happy as larks. We toss in batches of fresh chopped veggies that we get from a local store to help balance their diet. It'll do until they can get out and stretch their legs and hunt down some bugs and such. The greens are the trimmings and culls from the store's produce department. They give it to us and they don't have to mess with it. It's a "win win" deal. Add to that the "chick starter" and some scratch and you have some well-fed pullets who are preparing to start production. Lay me some money! Ol' Rancho Ran will have to sharpen his egg marketing skills soon.

There are a couple of new "chicken stands" for them too. The stands are your basic 2" x 4" boards with 4' closet rods between them to make a place for them to park when the mood strikes. Two have three rods and the other has 5. The chickens are diggin' em so far. There is a taller "tree" too that has several 18" rod branches for them to tinker with.

 Our contractor, Rob Sanford, and his crew did a great job on all of it. He took the time to look up some coops and such and had a lot of input that helped glue all of this project together. I think his other half, Bonnie, is looking to have him fix up their place with one of these now!  

The "Abbie Report".....Princess Abbie is now firmly entrenched in our hearts and ranch. She has endeared herself to us despite a poopy start (I would have preferred rocks). Talk about frolicking and romping! Our pampered pooch can have more fun in a few minutes than I've had all year! What a hoot! Though not having a GPS, the lay of the land is now part of her programming so she keeps track of what's on her farm. Not much slips by her...especially the coons (though we haven't seen any as of late).

She and I do the fetch thing and, when there is enough energy for Ol' Ran to work with (which is about as likely as finding a box of chicken lips in a mile-high snow drift), we do Tug o' War. In only a couple of minutes it dawned on me that....I wasn't playing with the dog..... she was playing with me! Needless to say, she runs rings around me. It's usually my nap time right after that.

Her intelligence also appears to be increasing with every passing day. I've not seen such a sharp doggie. She's all but a mind reader and seems to be one step ahead of us most of the time. Looks like I need to sharpen my trusty-but-rusty Ginzu knife.

And......her ability to love us seems to grow day by day. She thinks we hung the moon and it isn't likely that we will try to change her mind any time soon. She is loathe to leave us and hates it when we depart. But, she always greats us with great joy when we return from town. However, we'll need to work on the part about French kissing her owner when he isn't paying attention. Doggie tongues are just tooooo long! We're still dialing her in so the next update will likely be a bit more detailed.

We're short another apple tree. Seems someone or something/animal or such took exception to the sapling tree's attempts to survive the drought. I found the tree this afternoon stripped of its branches. They had been ripped off rather traumatically and I can't really account as to how it could have happened. It was almost like it had been run over with my lawn tractor but the grass around the tree was still un-touched. Weird. I'll likely re-plant it since it has hardly grown at all in three years anyway.  I lost a couple of others in the past couple of years so we're down to 5 of the 9 that were planted. I have a shovel and have some options so....no worries. 

 Missing also are a peach tree and three plum trees. I re-planted two more replacement vines and added three more. There are three more nectarine trees yet to be planted too. We got trees!........ including the small pomegranate tree that not even the drought could kill!

 The garden boxes are thriving, I'm pleased to report. Connie is babysitting them with much TLC and insuring their ability to turn into an abundant harvest. She's already think ahead to canning stuff. We don't call her "Connie the Canner" for nothing!

Wait until you see the new patio addition! Since we will have chickens ranging about, it became rather obvious that our nice patio would be a target for indiscriminant yard birds who have no shame at all. That means that we would be having to clean the patio and every....single....thing.....high....and ....low almost every day. With the local rancher's waning energy reserves being tightly husbanded, that's not gonna happen. So, our lightning-fast minds concluded that the patio should be enclosed with a latticework of some kind. 

We checked with our contractor, Rob Sanford, who advised that it would be a great idea and would be a straightforward project. And, since he was already here and working, he could start immediately upon completion of the coop. He did just that. In a few days we'll have a chicken resistant patio that will be safe from critters and most varmints. Hey....I may even break out the ol' barbie and cook up a storm (I like my storms medium rare, don't you?).

The materials are all here and much of the framing has been done. The main swing gate is finished and the two end gates are just about ready. Most likely, a drop roll screen of some sort will be hung so we can block the sun in the evenings and keep the skeeters out. We'll see.

Stay tuned. The heat is rising....the water is lowering....things could get....interesting around here. 

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. 

Rancho Pollo Loco

I'm not sure how many things or animals are as cute as chicks which, I think, are right up there with witto bitty baby bunny wabbits. There are 24 total but I have this sneaky suspicion that we may become a "chicken rescue ranch" or such. Good thing I still remember the Boy Scout motto, "Be Prepared"!

 When I asked the nice man at the local feed store about chicken scratch, he advised that they no longer use that for chicks. Instead they use this stuff. "Load it up!", says I. "Always feed your chickens", I always say.

This is the "un-hatched" carport that we are converting to a coop. The way we did it, we saved more than a payment on a new Ford pickup on fees, plans, materials, and extra time to build by making the coop "portable". The carport is built into 4" x 6" "skids" which are then anchored to the ground. The way that it's constructed, it isn't likely to go anywhere. It's also protected by the barn on one side and a row of tall trees on the other. No worries, mate!

You must have lumber if you're going to build, eh? Well, here's some of the materials and is the first of two such loads. If you've ever wondered what 801.57 dollars worth of lumber looks like, this is it. "Wooly Pully" is surely earning its salt today!! When we overhauled it, we had them install heavy duty springs on it so it will haul around a ton of goodies.

This is the area that I scraped off using the box scraper on the back of the Ranch Rhino. The tradesmen are in the process of putting the corrugated metal roofing material on. The little tree in the lower right hand of the picture is a plum tree that is in full bloom....in February.....which very much seems like...late March or early April.

 An almost-a-coop with a new roof.

You can see the framing in the back and along the sides at the rear. The laying boxes will be along those side walls as well as along the back.

Coming along nicely! The forward part will be a chicken run that is protected by a metal wall at the bottom half and chicken wire above that. I may put a large sign up that says, "No Critters Allowed" or "No Free Lunches" or something to that effect. I don't know; I haven't seen to many local coyotes sharpening their reading skills lately....just their teeth.

The coop is pretty well established but the boxes are not yet installed. With three walls and the vertical studs in place, their won't be a whole lotta shakin' goin' on.

The Rancho Rhino. I love this little guy. The Ford 8N was the first "real" tractor I drove when I was about 16 yrs old. The largest was the WABCO 222F/G, 21 yard self-loading scraper and the largest Caterpillar was the D-8. My favorite is the newer D-6's. Great tractor! The favorite self-loading scraper for me was the John Deere 15 yard 860A. Nice machine and fairly easy to operate. Did I mention that I love the smell of diesel smoke?

Well.....I suppose that it just had to happen; there just had to be a chicken involved with Rancho Relaxo. I mean, exactly how can you call a ranch a ranch if you don't have at least one chicken? In this case, it's actually chickens, as in 24 of the cutest Rhode Island Red chicks you can imagine. In fact, our chicks are cuter than the Kardashian chicks by a huge margin (though I may be somewhat biased in that opinion).

These are all pullets which is also to say that Ol' Ran and his sidecook, Connie the Canner, will have scads of huevos around the ranch. Connie is already looking for any recipes that have eggs as ingredients. "Huevos in the morning. Huevos in the evening. Huevos at supper time. We'll eat those yummy Huevos; we'll eat them all the time" (all you old people surely remember the pop song "Sugertime", I should suppose). Eggs are now permanently on the menu. This is a  good thing.

One Sunday, not long ago, we made mention that we had some plans for adding chickens to the ranch. We didn't advise that our plans were not all that well-formed and that our seriousness level wasn't exactly bending the needle on the "serious gauge". Perhaps we should have because one of the ladies at church ordered a batch of chickens for us! That sort of revved our plans into high gear because the chicks were set to arrive in only a couple of weeks! But, what are you going to do; are you going to complain about free chickens? Not today.

Did you know that "huevos rancheros" (ranch eggs) just happens to be one of my favorite breakfast items? Isn't that a neat co-incidence? You probably wouldn't be surprised to know that I also just happen to have a stash of chorizo stuffed in the freezer, now would you?  Mexican sausage is great stuff. However, you may not want to read the label because the Mexicans eat everything on the pig. Chorizo is made of the parts that are right next to the oink. This leads me to say that "Huevos con chorizo" is also high up on my list of favorites for breakfast. Bet you can guess that it's likely that I'll chuck "Ol' Ran's Pain-free Weight Loss Regimen" out the window for awhile, eh?

Connie rustled up four large washer/dryer boxes that serve as temporary chicken coops. She parked a couple of lamps on each one to keep the chicks warm and made sure that they had a feeder and water dispenser. The small concession we have to make is that the boxes are in the house which makes it smell like.....yep....a chicken ranch. It's a small price to pay for the excellent reward of fresh farm eggs in the near future.

How nice to watch the little cluckers grow as they covert from little fuzz balls with a beak, eyeballs, and spindly legs into fully-feathered fowls ready to make cackle berries for a living. Up to now, they have been feeding on "chick starter" but Connie just added leftover cooked oatmeal and some stale cake to their diet. We don't usually allow our cake to get stale so they may want to enjoy that treat as it isn't likely to happen again (at least, not on my watch). Soon, they'll be getting table scraps added to the scratch.

Of course, you can't have hens without a ....coop. So, that means that our "free" chickens will now cost us about a ton of dead presidents. We had some thoughts about what a decent coop would cost because we had looked it up online. But, when tractor-comes-to-tree stump, we saw that, to accommodate two dozen layers wasn't going to be.....cheep (sorry...it's a cry for help). The good news is that we have a contractor who is quite knowledgeable about such things and is helping us to dial in what he calls the "Taj Majal" for chickens (nothing like pampered chickens, I always say).

Actually, the "chicken palace" is a 10' x 27' steel pole carport with wood framing and such to  keep it stable. It's situated on the west side of the barn between the barn and a row of tall trees. The idea was to keep the brutal summer sun from baking our chickens (though I truly love baked chicken, don'tcha know). So, far there has been a lot of improvising (read: additional cost) so that things will remain stationary and we won't have to fetch our coop and chickens from the  neighbor's yard when the wind blows. There will be a total of 30 (double-row/stacked) nesting boxes across the back and sides. That should keep even the fussiest of old hens happy and clucking along with joy. The remainder will be a chicken wire enclosed "chicken run". Precautions are being made that will deprive the local coyote population of free chicken dinners.

We figured that it will take the sale of about 1,000 dozen eggs (about 3.5-4 years or so) to break egg-actly even on the deal. But, it looks like we'll be egg ranchers soon!  The best that we can tell, the local folks dearly love fresh eggs and we understand why. I grew up eating farm fresh eggs produced by free-range chickens and they're unbeatable. So, "Rancho Relaxo Real Eggs" should be in big demand. 

What with the batches of fresh veggies produced in our garden boxes, we may be setting up a produce stand alongside Highway 190 right next to the "Minnick Computer Services" sign. Maybe we could call it, "Zucchini Heaven Produce Stand" or such. How about, "Squash Me Gently Produce"? I know: "We Only Have Shallots For You". Maybe: "One Tomato, Two Tomato, Three Tomato, Four". "Eggs-cellent Vegetables", may work. Hmmmmm....if we add a hog to the mix (could happen!), then it would be "Greens, Ham, and Eggs". The possibilities are endless (and probably hopeless if I'm allowed to extend my creativity).

When the cluck-asauruses are comfortable with their new digs, we may let them free range. They keep the insect population under control while they fertilize the farm (fertilizer is our friend). They are handy critters to have around. There has to be a new guard dog to watch over them, though. The local four-legged chicken snatchers are pretty crafty. Connie, the Chicken Grandma (has a nice ring to it, eh?), has been watching Craig's List and such for a new guard pooch that will fit the bill. Lots of prospects but nothing has really captured our interest. Most have been too far away and I  refuse to believe that I have to drive 50 miles to find a dog (and won't). Porterville isn't a "real town" yet but we do have plenty of dogs from which to choose.

The garden boxes are pretty much prepped but for the addition of a couple of extra sacks of "make it grow" stuff. It'll be "some of this and some of that" this season. Squash is always a winner. Just throw water at it and it will certainly grow. Tomatoes are a must and green beans have made the cut as has okra. Man does not live by bread alone; he's got to have okra. There are probably twenty different types of seeds on hand and not enough room to plant them all. Connie will see that the important stuff gets planted. "Watermelon", you ask? That may work! We'll see. In any case, can't wait all that much longer or it will throw off our schedule. 

The rains finally came again and gave us a wee bit of wet. The mountains got more than a dusting but still not enough to be called a "real" snow pack. It's supposed to rain again tonight so more relief is on the way.

The "Ranch Rhino" has been tuned up and is all set to go. She purrs like a puddy tat. I used it to flatten out the area where the new coop is located. Likewise, the little "RanchoToyo" pick-me-up truck is tuned, the brakes are overhauled, and the cooling system has been tidied up (it was leaking). Now for the other equipment with a motor on it. I need to make sure that the portable generators are ready at a moment's notice and the chipper and tiller haven't been started in awhile. The trike starts easily but it needs a new rear rim. That shouldn't be a big deal except....the only bike shop in town (there are 65K people here)....doesn't ....speak ....English. I may just order one online and be done with it.

The computer biz is still keeping me busy and occupied. It won't be all that long that I'll be the "village blacksmith" and no longer needed. It'll be some time yet, though. By that time I'll probably be ready to just let it go and focus on full-time ministry. It's not "work" for me as I enjoy the challenges. Guess you could call me "Randy the Tinker Dude".

More later. We'll be adding a rooster to the equation at some point. That could easily be newsworthy. So, don't touch that digitally manipulated, rotating knob, connected to a splined shaft that controls the ganged capacitors which control the tuning of your electrically-powered, A/C rectifying, RF detecting, direct conversion, audio amplifying device that feeds the AF output to a cone speaker, and that sports a lighted LCD display.