Rancho Agosto Surprizo (for the Septembre Blog)

The ol' ranch hand and his side-cook broke out of the daily routine and headed for a nearby oasis. Since Porterville isn't a "real town" yet (at 60K+ population we're working on it, though), we headed the hoopie over yonder to Tulare (they had sense enough to park their burg next to Highway 99 and became a real town). When there, we took in a movie and a dinner (somehow similar to taking in a dinner and a movie but not quite as traditional...which we seem not to be anyway).  The movie was "Star Trek" which was viewed with much appreciation but not without a critique. I mean, hey....you can't fool someone who was there in '66 and has seen all of the Star Trek episodes more than once. The dinner was compliments of an IHOP (which I think is an anagram for "I Hate Old People") gift card which, of course, makes the meal much more savory. All-in-all, it was a nice outing for the old folks who promptly went home and went back to work chasing chickens. 

It never ceases to amaze me how faithful and diligent my huntin' guard dog is! Just look at this fine specimen doing a "hard guard"! It isn't below her dignity (she is a princess, after all) to guard my mop and has purposed to even sleep by it lest it be molested by the Gypsies or a marauding rooster. 
If you were wondering if that's "Wooly Pully" in the back, it surely is. She's high-sided with the 48" rails instead of the 24" ones. She's a handy gadget to have around.

This juicy cantaloupe is a "volunteer" that was planted when I spread the new compost in garden box #3. It's hiding in the shade of my okra plants! There is a sibling a couple of feet to the right of it but it's slightly smaller. 

To the right is Miss Peep. She and the other pullets are slowly being assimilated into the general population without a lot of thuggery with a notable exception (next pic).  

This is Sweety, grandson Cade's pullet who he helped nurse to health after it was stressed from being bullied. Unfortunately, she was severely injured this second time and is unable to stand. It was rather unexpected because there haven't been any serious issues at all since we put them in the general population.  She's back in granny's kitchen (which is interesting since my maternal grandmother is "Granny Kitchen"). Connie's kitchen serves many purposes. Sometimes we even get to cook our food there! 

 This is the new roundabout at the intersection of Highway 190 and Reservation Road. We're headed west. This thing couldn't be more hated by the locals but the government (as it always does) shoved it down our throats. Then next thing we know, they'll erect a statue of Jerry "Moonbeam" Brown in the middle of it. 

  For all of the ex-Valley folks, this is a shot of downtown Terra Bella. They just demolished the main buildings. This was taken southbound on old 65 and looking southeast and approaching Ave 94.

This is just as you turn left around the corner from old 65 onto eastbound Ave 94 (toward the "Hoot and Holler"). Looking northeast. The buildings had gone without use for decades so someone (Tulare County?) made way for progress. I mean....we really do need another Mexican restaurant (there's one right across the street just to the right in this picture). 

 This is Randall, the grandson who has found that food is his friend and that it makes you grow. The "six footer" is being hugged by his father's maternal grandmother (making her his great-grandmother), Wilma (nee Webber) (Carter) Wright (and I may have changed history here as there may have been some "updates" of which I am unaware. Sorry it that's the case). She has lived in Exeter since '66  and this picture is taken at her home there.

To the right is Randall again but this time he is with his paternal great-grandmother, Geraldine (nee Kitchen) (Minnick) Black. We had just overhauled the steam tables at the "New China" buffet in Hooterville and had about enough energy left over to smile and a picture but that's about all. Naps are our friends. He is 17 and she is 88 and can still drive!

Well! Jump down, turn around, and pick a bail of cotton! It's September! My believer is still in unbelief over how fast the time is steamrolling by at warp speed! 

When we realized that we were already in the middle of August, Connie and I looked at each other and both were thinking, "Christmas is right around the corner!! That, of course, had us shifting into gears that were higher in number than those we thought we already had on the console.

The really good news is that we are not having a brutal San Joaquin Valley body-blistering-bake-your-biscuits-on-the-hood-of-your-Chevy summer (don't try this at home. It takes too long to scrape the dough off if you screw up and not wait until the temperature is at least 110 degrees).  

It hasn't exactly been a "non-summer" summer. That would be comparing our summers to our winters which are almost "non-winters" since you can't really tell when they start or end. For the previous decade or more, the Ol' Rancher hardly needed a jacket during winter (though he did notice that the ladies usually are bit more prone to temperature variations given that they usually have only a two degree [76-78 deg] temperature tolerance and comfort zone). I think I wore my real jacket only twice and once was for a dress up occasion (I was wearing my Tony Lamas, don'tcha know). The other time was just to wear it to the car in case I needed it later in the day (I didn't because it never got below about 50 deg.).  Anyway, no one is complaining about the heat so far and it's nice to not have to turn the mister on to cool the cluckers.

Speaking of chickens, it's time for the chickening report. Here's the update on Phil, the bantam rooster: it took a bit of "Googling" but we now think that he is a bantam white Leghorn. I had first thought that he may be a "Japanese Phoenix" but he He doesn't quit fit the profile. On the other hand, he does have a solid match for the "Leghorn".

The little strutter hasn't lost an ounce of pride for the matter. He still thinks he's a gallon's worth of feathers ruling over quarts of hens. The hens don't seem to have the same opinion and ignore him much like he was a younger stupid brother. But, Phil is a slow learner and doesn't get the message at all and continues to thrust his beak into their business (I know people like that!). He still tends to loudly crow over his non-accomplishments (I know people like that, too!). 

Our young Aurucanas are nearing the time when they will begin earning their pullet pellets. The little gobblers have turned into big greedy gobblers. They need to start contributing a bunch of huevos to the program to offset the mountain of chow they consume each day.

The rest of the hens at Cluck Central Station are holding out for more scratch, the best I can tell. Their egg production is off by quite a bit. It could be the heat but it hasn't really been all that hot around these parts. On some days, they'll lay a lot but on others, they'll lay far fewer. It's like they are sending a message: "You want more eggs? More scratch, pal". So, more than likely, I'm dealing with a chicken strike of some kind. I'm trying to get the point across to them that I hold all of the high cards and that, if I am of a mind, they will be feeding me instead of me feeding them. They're pretty slow, though. Negotiations with the "Big Bad Biddy Committee" are ongoing (I hope that there are no Rusty Warren fans paying attention to this...that wouldn't be you, eh Jerry?).

It must be "surprise season" around here! First, Connie had a cool surprise in the last blog. Now, son, Jeff, called on a Friday and asked what we would be doing in a couple of days. That sounded like the proverbial "loaded question" to me (and it was)! I just advised that we would be holding down the ranch and headed to church on Sunday. He said that they would be departing Abilene after work on Saturday and that he and the fam would be here in 24 hours or so (driving straight through)! I told him we would be ready and waiting with toes on our bells and to drive safely (given the number of fools on the respective Interstates). They arrived in California on Sunday, stopped first in Visalia to visit other family, then were here at the ranch late that afternoon.

Let me tell you, neighbor; when they arrived, it was huggies all around, to be sure! We hadn't seen any of them since our last trip back there a couple of years ago. We stowed their gear and settled in for a time of catching up and such.

Do you know what happens when you don't see teenagers for awhile? They grow up! And up is where grandson, Randall, directed his energy! He's over the six foot mark now! Despite my warning them of the hazards of feeding children, his parents continued to allow him access to the feed bag. He's now as tall as his daddy and he's only 17!

Let me crow about our grandson (hey...I raise chickens and they taught me how to properly crow!). At the age of 16, he graduated from high school and is now preparing for a business career! The real kicker is that the business will be in merry old England! He's waiting until he's 18 (a wise conclusion strongly suggested by his wise parents) then further investigating the matter.

He keeps his noodle sharp by being involved with regional "Yu-Gi-Oh" championships in places like (gulp!) Philadelphia! If I understand correctly (I'm slower than the average jar of Safeway molasses, if you recall correctly), as the plenipotentiary of the game, the local boys just move out of the way when they see him coming! It also seems that that he has the same mastery of  "Pokemon" and gives the other competitors a run for their iPad (on the which all eyes are focused, nyuk nyuk).

 He and his dad tried to school us on how all of that stuff works. But, I'm still trying to wrap at least a couple of  brain cells around the entire matter and am rather foggy on most of this modern stuff. Reckon I'll figure it out someday but for now, I'm still trying to outsmart my "dumb phone".  So, if Ol' Ran, the cornball Luddite (sorta has of a ring to it, eh?) sounds like a blithering dummy about these modern fandongles while trying to elaborate, it's because he is one (proving that he's not just any dummy but a very special kind of dummy).

Jeff is the general manager of all concessions and food for the "Taylor County Expo Center" in Abilene (conveniently located across the street from their regional airport). His degree in food service and his decades of top-to-bottom experience in the industry are serving him well. He knows the business like the Pope knows Communion.

During his time in the USAF, he was communications/avionics/radar tech for the North American Rockwell B1B bomber. This allowed him to pick up another degree in avionics on the which may focus on at another time (ok, ok...I may be crowing a bit louder than Kenny Leghorn, the rooster, but I can't help it).  

Talk about a cool job! How many careers can you think of that allow you to see all of the neat events ranging from rodeos to rock concerts?! Not only do you not have to buy a ticket, you get paid for it!! Whoo hooo!

While the ol' rooster is being so noisy..... his wife, Sandra, is a top-tier commercial marketer and professional graphic artist. At the moment, she is taking some time off (from "regular" employment) to assist her mother through some difficult medical issues. The entire matter is on our prayer list, to be sure.

It hasn't hindered her from embarking on a new business, though! She has just launched "My Boyfriend's Briefs" line of women's briefettes! Take a look on YouTube at what she's done so far. Keep in mind, she has done almost all of the production work on this by herself!

>>>> My Boyfriend's Briefs

She has also helped us with the "Minnick Ministries" website too (slowly developing due to Bro. Ran being too busy to finish up)! To say that we're proud of the Texas Minnicks is an understatement! In fact, to say that she is one of the sharpest tacks in the tool box is a huge understatement! 

And, it's pretty easy to see where their son, Randall, gets his talent, eh? I haven't found a single Ginzu knife as sharp as he is!

It is a good thing that most Minnicks have the ability to stay up late when necessary (good genes, eh?). That was required because we gabbed until exhaustion bore down on the weary travelers. It was only midnight here at the oasis but the Texas time was 2 AM! All the camels went to bed.

They all got to see friends and family for a couple of days. It was especially nice since Jeff hadn't seen a couple of his siblings in ten years! What was truly special is that he got to see both of his grandmothers. Given their advanced age, it may be the last time to do so. It was also a special opportunity for Randall as well. He got to see both great-grandmothers! He's old enough now to remember this as a really special moment. Both grannies were tickled to get to see their youngin's again!

Wednesday morning was their departure time. Thankfully, and with the exception of Jeff, we all got a reasonable night's rest. Jeff was on call the entire time away. However, his employees kept forgetting that he was in a different time zone. So, when they called, it was rather early here. Ugh.

We all (you know: we all, you all, all you all) congregated at the table for breakfast on their first morning here. Connie piled a heap of helpings on the table and the fork fling-fest commenced to start (etiquette lessons provided by my ol' pal, Jethro Bodine). There's nothing quite like home-made breakfast cassarole and good hot coffee to feed a starving soul.

The morning that they departed, we fired up the BBQ grill (which had been forlorn and forsaken long enough for it to be a crime in California) and had steak and eggs for breakfast.

Of course, our Rancho Eggs performed well (as they always do) and were a savory standout (sounds like more crowing to me). You a should have seen us tuck into our huge repast until we were full (and could hardly walk)! La comida más sobrosa!!

All too soon, their baggage was boarded and Randall stowed his big Breville "Roma" espresso maker that granddad gave him (he loves espresso coffee...wonder where he gets that from?). It was mucho huggies time and then, "Adios!" What a wonderful and unforgettable time!

But, I did forget one thing; I have at least seven digital cameras. Do you think that I would remember to take pictures? Not today. I'm looking for someone to loan me their favorite large stick with which I may beat myself until I'm black and blue. *SIGH*. I don't mind so much getting old. I do mind very much getting old and stupid.  Moving along......

The next surprise was for Connie's birthday. She wasn't expecting the "Rachel Ray" cookware set that mysteriously showed up for her birthday (Amazon is our friend). Her theme for the ranch is always in blue and blue gingham so the new cookware was a theme-conforming medium blue. We put it to work straightaway the next morning with a nice huge breakfast of eggs, hash-browns, bacon, SPAM (for me since Connie doesn't eat mystery meat whose ingredients include all parts of the pig nearest [and which may even include parts of] the oink), and toast. The Ol' Rancher washed his down with a fresh hot cup of java. 

The Rancho report: the Ol' (dim LED) Rancher just had "Porterville Ag-Home" overhaul and service his faithful trusty (and dusty) Craftsman GT5000 lawn tractor. It now has new belts and blades (three of them!!) so my 54" cut will look nice. They stuck in new oil and a filter and tuned up the 26 hp Kohler motor. She purrs like mountain lion with a kid goat on its breath. The folks at PAH are tops and we highly recommended them.

For quite awhile, the little noise maker has been experiencing flat tires on the front. One side had a slow leak and the other had a fast leak and neither could be cured using "Slime" or "Fix-a-Flat" (which, after using, you have to fix a mess). You just can't mow the lawn with flat tires (though Connie was most encouraging by advising that they were only flat on one side). Just for the record, flat tires are not my friends.  

After "Googling" to find replacements, the ranch hands were flambooberated to find that the dinky 16x6.5-8 tires were as expensive as car tires and that it would cost around 160 dollars for just two of them! The only thing a good yard sale'er can do in such a case is find an option (options are  our friends). 

After digging around awhile, the tractor dude decided to just stick a couple of tubes in the bloody things and be done with it. So, a local "Les Schwab" tire store had the exact tubes for 11.50 each. We tossed the tractor onto the trailer (it's easier than it sounds because Wooly Pulley is a tilt trailer), hauled it to town, went in, and purchased the tubes. And, they mounted them for free!  Not only that, I snacked on their free popcorn 'till I was almost bloated (free x two is definitely our friend)!!!  We were back down the lane at total expenditure of less than 25 bucks! No more flats!

It may surprise some folks that 26 hp is only 4 hp less than a Ford 8N tractor which has a Model A Ford engine!! The difference is in the way the power is delivered to the ground. Traction makes all the difference. That's why I'm going to be mounting real tractor tread tires and hub weights on my little labor-saving rider so that it can get a grip on the ground. After all, what's a tractor that can't tract? The hub weights (the exact ones for my GT5000!!) were a donation from a friend who wondered if I knew anyone that wanted them! Have I mentioned that "FREE" is my friend?!

There are a couple of handy implements on hand (picked up at yard sales, natch) that it can tow, too. One is a nice small tilt-trailer with an end dump. It can handle two 60lb -75lb 30 gallon trash barrels at a time. That makes coop cleaning a bit easier since all clean-up materials are bound for the compost pile out yonder north of the pole barn.

The other is a small harrow for breaking up clods. We don't have but few clods here since it usually requires moisture to make the ground soft enough to plow. D-8 and D-9 Caterpillars  pulling rippers can make large clods without having water involved but, sadly, I don't have either of those big beauties. Our ground is hard enough to challenge a new jackhammer so we end up with clod-less ground because of cloudless skies. I'll be hunting around for a "real" tractor so I can bust some sod around here and have more options for planting stuff.

To say that Rancho Ran likes to remain comfortable while working may be yet another understatement. A lot of the morning's routine is accomplished while he is clad in his bed-pants, a T-shirt and sandals. Now....don't be tempted to think "hippy" as Ol' Ran is far too "L-7" to go down that road. But, he has learned to be comfortable if at all possible at this stage of life. So, if you see a middle-aged, over-weight, white boy hauling chicken feed around and looking like he's comfortable, he is. It surely will be me. Around here, it's just called "ranch dressing" (ok....ok...I won't quite my day job). 

In this part of the country (especially in rural areas where Rancho Relaxo abides) we have a rather intimidating arachnid to which we need to pay attention. That would be the "black widow" spider. Though notorious, they pretty much leave you alone if you do the same to them. Still, they can make the temperature of your blood drop a few degrees if you unexpectedly encounter one.

So far, their population has been held in check (we're not sure why yet though we do have four fierce free-ranging fowls guarding the place). Since we have several other spider species that have taken up residence around here (rather large ones, I might say), we've developed a way to determine which large spider web is which and thereby stay safe. First, you kick the web. If you damage the web, its occupant is probably the "Black and Yellow or Banded Garden Spider" or the "Spotted Orb Weaver". Next, if you kick the web and your foot rebounds but it keeps your sandal, you run! It isn't all that scientific but, hey, it works.

Well, neighbors, that's the latest from "Rancho Relaxo" and its fearless, fretless, feather-loving, farmers, Rancho Ran and his side-cook, Connie the Canner. Don't touch that device with all the buttons on it because things could get....interesting. 

Rancho Augusto

I truly don't mean to complain. But.....HOLY MOLY! If this keeps up, we may not have to use the dehydrators! 

Yes! We have lots of 'maters. We have lots of 'maters today! In fact, we have lots of okra, too! Okra and 'maters are our friends!

Abbie is a "coon hound". However, in the absence of a few coons, she just pays attention to the dove that is nesting in the flower planter over her head. Lovie Dovie hijacks one of Connie's planters three or four times per spring and hatches out her pair of cute baby doves. 

 These are the last of Lovie Dovie's brood. Look at the magnificent camouflage! You have to look closely even when it's from only two feet away! 

Here's the original! They're almost invisible!

You, of course, have heard about "cool cats". But, you probably haven't heard about a "cool chick". This is Maddie, the very intelligent araucana hen. She's parked under the mister that was added to the run. She's sopped and lovin' it! Who woulda thunk? Last evening, there were six other hens keeping cool with her. 

Well....it's August.....already! Doesn't that just make you want to buy a Mercury and cruise it up and down the road?! I'm not through with July's work yet, for corn flakes! Oh, well. I'll just have to take a day off so I can get some work done around here.

All is well here at Rancho Relaxo. However, recently, the Ol' Rancher wasn't well at all for about a week. For the first time in about eleven or so years, I found myself experiencing all of the uncomfortable symptoms of the stomach flu. I'll spare you the gory details and let Google help you in case you have yet to be informed about it. Let's just say that it wasn't a pretty sight.  Whatever that thing was took the knot plumb out of my clove-hitch. It left me too weak to wrestle a marshmallow out of a cup of hot chocolate.

Connie was able to keep me alive through the ordeal and made sure that  I drank a ton of "Powerade" and fruit juices (given that I had no appetite). Otherwise, my electrolytes would have been out of whack and I would have been dehydrated due to a massive loss of fluid. I think I used up a month's worth of flushing in one week! I'd have been a real mess and would likely have ended up in the hospital (a place for which I have no particular fondness).

She really was the hero of the hour and still managed to maintain her sense of humor in an attempt to keep me cheered. She then courageously carried the ball for the entire ranch for an entire week. My hat is off to her (plus she got my dirty laundry too!).

Just for the record, I'm swearing off getting sick. It was one way to get out of having to be a farm dude for awhile. But, it is a waste of my time, saps my energy, and makes me feel yukkie.  I'd rather suck snot out of a dead man than do that again.

Speaking of Connie the Canner, she has been just as busy with me back in the saddle as when I was out of it. It has been almost non-stop canning around here. If not canning, then she is dehydrating veggies and fruit. I saw a lot of apples and tomatoes being sliced and dried. She has even been canning hamburger! Yep! We are almost out of room in the freezer so she looked it up on the Internet and found out how to do it. It works great! I hadn't thought about it until then! And, between our own nectarines and folks giving us other peaches, she canned several quarts for the winter. Peachy keen, eh (I know. I know)?

If that doesn't inflate your Kumhos, we just bartered for a gorgeous like-new 5 tray dehydrator recently.  One of our clients needed their laptop straightened up so the Computer Dude fixed it. In trade, we ended up with an "American Harvest" multi-temp dehydrator for our supply of "tools". It was exactly like a couple of those that we already have. All the trays are the same which gives us some options when we dehydrate stuff. Just prior to getting it, I had to replace the thermistor in one of the other ones. The part was quite inexpensive and it only took a few minutes to solder it in place. So, don't toss our your dehydrator just because it stops running. You can get it back in service for about 50 cents, a thirty watt soldering iron, and a few minutes of time.

Edible Acres Harvest Report: we've got goodies! The okra is thriving and we've already started giving some away to those good folks who love a mess of that wonderful fried stuff. Since okra is one of those "forever plants"  that just keeps on giving, we'll probably still be giving some away at Christmas! And, that's after we can a bunch of it! That is an amazing vegetable! It grows so fast that you have to harvest it almost every single day! That means I'll be looking forward to a big batch of gumbo soon, too! I've got some shrimp in the freezer waiting to be tossed into the mix! Hooo! Doggies! My, but that's good eatin'! 

Coon Dog Report: things got "interesting" here the other night at about 9:30 PM or so. Abby, was barking her little doggie brains out on the back patio. Now, she's been known to do such activities but not on the back patio. So, as you can imagine, she had my attention when I turned on the lights and noticed that she had treed my BBQ grill. Since there were only a few inches gap under my grill, my lightning-fast mind knew there wasn't a bear under there (what a relief!). That was a good thing since I hadn't even bothered to grab any armament other than my flashlight. Of course, smaller doesn't necessarily mean less dangerous. Abby (a.k.a. "the Nose") treed a rattlesnake on the front driveway not long ago. That meant that Ol' Ran needed to be mindful of his steps when a huntin' dog is making loud noises.

I started moving the BBQ grill and when I did, a "thing" darted out onto the patio and into the back yard. Fortunately, I was able to out pace the thing, got in front of it, and gave it quick kick backwards thereby arresting its flight to safety. It curled up and lay motionless. In a flash, my flashlight revealed that I had overpowered a small 'possum (a fella is pretty confident when he is 200 times as massive as his opponent). It was now motionless and playing....'possum (but you knew that).

I called for Abby for assistance and she came a-runnin' lickity split (roughly the equivalent of half the speed of sound) and ran right on past and headed to the other side of the yard looking for the thing. So, I called again and again she whizzed right on by looking somewhere else for something. *SIGH* Finally, I called her to me and she noticed the 'possum on the ground. She snatched the thing up in her mouth but, as you can guess, it played dead so Abby tired of that game in about ten seconds. She parked the little critter in the dirt and moseyed off. I could tell that this girl dog was going to need some help getting her huntin' skills sharpened up.  It was left up to me to dispatch the predator that, if allowed to mature, would have had a voracious appetite for ...chicken dinners. So, a few ounces of dead 'possum is worth a few pounds of live chickens.

It must be that time of the year for 'possums since we found another one trapped at the bottom of one of our barrels that we use to contain our coop cleanings. It had fallen in and had starved to death. More chickens saved.

Well, guess what, neighbor? I also found out that "Rancho Relaxo" isn't limited to just one "interesting" event per week. Just a few days later, Princess Abby let out barking and baying for a really long time....late at night, of course. So, Ol' Ran grabbed his trusty tactical flashlight (the one that lights up the entire bloody neighborhood) and trudged out to see what was upsetting my pooch.

Abby was trying to climb one of the tall trees between our house and the neighbor's home. I had heard that "Walker Treeing Coon Hounds" were called "climbers" so I guess I believe them now! When a coon dog trees, don't bother to guess if there's something there; just shine the light upwards and find out what it is! "It" was a big ol' wide-eyed coon! He was up about 20' or so and parked on a limb at the trunk. Abby had finally lived up to her breeding! You may remember that she cornered her first big ol' coon out in the carport a year ago. But, this was the first time she had "treed" (nobody wants a "Walker Cornering Coon Hound", don'tcha know). 

So, a plan of action was needed and there were decisions to make. I can't say that I wasn't tempted to go get "Ol' Bess", the SKS rifle. At that time of night, such a thought only lasted a few seconds. Can you imagine what would happen if you discharged a .30 caliber hunting rifle late at night and only 35 feet from your neighbor's bedroom?! Your good neighbors would become bad neighbors in a heartbeat.

The next thought was to just use the Ruger 10-22 .22 caliber semi-auto rifle. That way, the neighbors would only jump halfway out of their night clothes instead of all of the way (I am soooo thoughtful, eh?). Well....that thought, too, was short lived. That left me with prospect of just letting Abby bay all night long thereby insuring that the neighbors only lost sleep instead of their jammies. That was a prospect with which I could live. Besides, I really didn't need a new coonskin cap. Maybe when the fashion cycle comes back around.

It was my bedtime anyway so I was hoping against hope that Abby would get disinterested after awhile and just go park in her "Abby place" on the back patio. That means that everyone would still get some sleep. That was a real leap of faith because coon dogs don't normally give up on anything. They just don't quit. I seriously figured that the coon would need to make that limb his permanent dwelling place. No part of me believed that Abby would lose interest in a live coon. But, he wasn't there the next morning and Abby wasn't talkin'. Maybe she went to sleep on the job or the coon bought her off (maybe the coon found my stash of doggie treats on the patio....uh-huh). Thankfully, and for whatever reason, Abby appeared to lose interest and that was the end of the matter. Go figure.

News flash: there was third "interesting" event at the ranch a few days later! Abby was doing her nightly patrol and started barking....at midnight (nocturnal critters, don'tcha know). After several minutes of intense barking and at about the time I was going to grab my torch, she went silent. "That'll work" says I to myself. But, that really didn't make sense until.....this terribly familiar ...odor....began wafting its way into the bedroom. Do you know where I'm heading with this narrative? You are correct; it was the only-too-familiar scent of an offended skunk. Only this time, it wasn't like a dead skunk in the middle of the road. It was like an angry skunk in the middle of the bedroom! Uuuuuuuuuuuh! Connie nearly fainted while I nearly gagged. Due to the eye-tearing intensity, we figured that Pepe Le Pew was probably marching across our front porch campaigning for the removal of our guard dog. 

Once again I snatched the uber-light and went out to see if my coon dog was OK and if she needed to be quarantined for awhile (like...maybe for a month and maybe in China). When I called, she came zipping around the corner and was about to (lovingly) fling herself upon my body parts. I wasn't relishing the thought of having to follow Abby into quarantine so I gritted my teeth, stepped back to halt her advance, and held my hand down to grab her collar. So far, so good. After a few moments, there was no swooning and I was still standing upright and without additional body odor. Time to give thanks! 

Wait, folks! There's more! I really wish that I could say that Rancho Relaxo is an uneventful place. But, that would be like believing a politician when they open their mouth. It just isn't so. The other night at about 1:30 AM (waaaay too early in the morning for "interesting" things to occur), I was rudely awakened by a ladies voice saying, "Low voltage! Low voltage!". Though somewhat groggy, it didn't take but a moment to realized what had happened and that "Rosy the Robot" wasn't standing at my bedside (you old people remember the "Jetsons"). I had left one of my walkie squawkie radios on and had left it on the night stand next to the bed (the other radios were charging). When the bias voltage got too low, it automatically advised that the voltage was low so that the dummy user would recharge it or replace the battery. I just turned the thing off until later that morning then stuck on the charger. Note to self: pay attention, Ran. You'll get more sleep that way.

Chickening Report from Cluck Central: I'm still trying to figure out why chickens are so good at turning their chicken coop and chicken run into a pig sty. We rake and clean continually and make sure that they have plenty of fresh water and lots and lots of good food (chicken chow, don'tcha  know). We always speak to them kindly (never curse your chickens, I always say) and we speak in specific terms so they remember that they are chickens and not pigs. We call them using the time tested method: "Here, chick, chick, chick!" and not "Here, pig, pig, pig!". There are even signs hanging on the walls that say as much. Maybe we're asking a bit too much since we're getting nowhere with that method. I'd like to figure out how we end up raising intelligence-free chickens. In the meantime, hand me another rake. 

Having chickens on the brain (and in the coop) means that you have lots of chicken recipes on hand. I think I quit counting at about 300 including the more than 150 cookbooks we have on the shelf). Connie cooked a swell almond crusted chicken the other night. And, we use chicken in soups, sandwiches, and such all of the time (it tastes better when it's on sale, too!). But, I wanted to try something different. After reading about it recently, I want to try "chicken fricassee" pretty soon. It's a simple enough recipe for a simple enough ranch hand. However, it sounds a little "hoity toity" for the likes of a couple of old folks like us. So, we're just going to call it "frickin' chicken" which has more of a country ring to it.

We lost one of our pullets a few days ago. She was noticeably out of sorts for a few days prior so we pulled her out of the cage and put her in the hutch by herself. When there was no improvement after a couple of days, we brought her into the house to try to nurse her back to health. Sadly, she only lasted a day and a half. We're not sure what happened and it isn't likely that we will ever know. So goes life at Rancho Relaxo. We will likely get a few more pullets in the near future anyway. If not, maybe in the spring. 

Thinking that the pullets were mature enough to be introduced to the rest of the coop group, we freed them from their cage. That experiment was a complete failure because the Chickenistas would have none of it. They refused to allow the almost-hens to integrate and immediately began abusing them. One of the pullets was so stressed that she stuck her head behind a sack of scratch and wouldn't budge (and you thought only ostriches did that). The others were holed up behind the door of the first run.

As an aside: the two runs have a door between them because we left the door on the original run. That comes in handy when we want to clean the front run or vice versa. We can herd the birds into one or the other run as needed for cleaning and such.

So, the Ol' Chicken Wrangler snatched them up and put them back in their cage where it's safe. They're doing fine now. I'll try again in a couple of weeks. If we keep feeding them, we're confident that they will grow.

We're also experimenting with a water mister. It consists of a small plastic water line with a few button misters on it. We're hoping it will help keep our hens from croaking in the heat (it was 108 degrees today). It seems to work but not all that well because we have ponding under one of the misters. Plus, there seems to be a bit of a cross breeze that shoves the mist away from the chickens. If I can't get this one dialed in , I have another longer one that may work. We'll see. Anything to keep us from having fried chickens. 

So, there you have it, the latest from Rancho Relaxo. Don't touch that URL; things could get...interesting. 

Rancho Julio

Are we spoiled yet? Miss Peep was invited to a special place on Connie's shoulder. However, she seems to have allowed her instincts to override her etiquette and went for the "king of the hill". Notice that Connie is a step ahead of the presumptuous creature and is protected from any consequences thereof.

Here's Phil the Silky. He is the "mini-me" of Kenny Leghorn. He's such a hoot! He's a half-pint rooster dealing with full-quart hens!

This is "Sweetie", the little Araucana pullet that grandson, Cade, named and then helped to nurse back to health. She has just been re-introduced back into the hutch but she and the others have since been moved to the larger "ad-seg" cage for awhile. When the little birds can fend for themselves against the Hooligan Hen Gang, we'll introduce them into the general population.

I was honored to be asked to sing and play music with "Duggin's Citrus Express Band" at a local car show. It had been since the first of the year that I've had the chance to twang a strang. The rust dust was a bit thick but everything seemed to turn out alright. This is Miss Connie availing herself of the slight bit of shade that was in such lack that day. She has really good ears and said I did fine. My sincerest of thanks to Jim and Sooz for letting me be a part of a really good time!

These green bell peppers are already on the counter and one of them is already in the alimentary canal! Our peppers are prospering and, soon, the big Anaheim's will be ready for a mess of chile rellanos. Sign me up!

 These big red beauties have been harvested. Connie may can some but some will end up sauces and salsas. The difference is in the spicing, I should suppose, given that the two words have the same meaning. We'll make it work, eh?

 These are some signs we found that help make the Henhouse Hilton the perfect place to park our peckers.

This is our "dirty dog". She had just gone one-on-one with the "Evil Water Snake" and was soaked from her nose to the tip of her tail. What did she do? She rolled three times in the dirt so that she wouldn't miss a clean spot! This is why we let her maintain her title "Princess" but also let her abdicate her (clean) throne and our (clean) house so she could be a "farm dog".

 It's JULY!! This year is half over! Doesn't that just make your chewing gum lose its flavor on the bedpost overnight?! I'm not quite speechless so it's best that I continue on to other topics so this post doesn't resemble one for "Randy's Rant Roost"! 

Let's start with "chickening": "chickening" is anything you do that pertains to chickens. If you are feeding them, you're chickening. If you're tending the bird herd, you're chickening. If you're collecting cackle fruit, you're chickening. If you're stepping in chicken doo, it's all part of the chickening experience. You simply haven't lived unless you've done some chickening. 

Some of our current chickening is adding chickens to the coop. The 8 pullets are not quite ready to be released into the "general population". They are sort of "ad-seg" for now so that the larger hens don't assassinate them just for grins (it's their day off and they're bored, I guess). We had to pull two of them and let them take up camp in Connie's kitchen to recover from stress and injury. 

You may recall that we named the all white one, "Peep" (shortened from "Miss Pecky McPeep Peep"), but there was another one that needed attention. It had inadvertently been released from the hutch when Connie was feeding and watering them. A few days later, we found it hiding in the dark in the corner of the coop. She was in stress shock from the bullying and was dehydrated. So, Connie put her in a tub with a screen across it and began to nurse it back to health ("Connie the Chicken Nurse"...has sort of a ring to it, eh?). That process was aided by grandson, Cade, who named the little pullet, "Sweetie". I'm starting to think that we don't actually run a chicken ranch but a vacation spa for hens. 

Anyway....she was nursed back to health but was not re-introduced into the company of the felonious feather faction. Rather, we put her and her six sisters into the large "isolation ward" with a few other birds. It gives them more space and the other birds in there are, by-and-large, tamer and will let them integrate with little social friction. We just don't need a cabal insisting on mixing feathers and fighting. All looks well so far.

Kenny Leghorn is absent from the rancho. We figured he wasn't necessary for the production of eggs. So, despite the fact that we enjoy his crowing and strutting, we found him a new home. A young man from Porterville was happy to pay us ten bucks for our young and healthy rooster. He will be missed but we don't see a need to pay him for performing a bit of  hen oversight (actually, he was a bit more involved than just oversight) and an occasional cacophonous musical production. 

In his place is "Phil" the beautiful all white bantam silky who is the "Mini-Me" for Kenny. It's sort of funny to watch a bantam rooster try to run herd over hens that are larger than he is. He's definitely out of his league. He, along with a gorgeous Rhode Island Red hen (Maude) and a gorgeous Araucana hen (Mattie), were gifts from long-time (I think 53 years can be considered a "long time") friend and brother, Rob Tyrrell and his wife, Sharon. The three  birds are the sweetest and calmest that I've ever seen and we're glad to have them aboard. 

Chickening is new to us. As with any other new subject, you are forced to learn many new things "on the fly". Like: did you know that chickens are wired to explode on contact? Oh, yes. It's absolutely true. When cornered, a chicken will assail its assailant (how a stupid chicken knows that a good defense is a good offense is beyond me). It explodes on the enemy in a flinging fiery fury with feathers and feet slashing in all directions like a 3-D CAD drawing! The enemy, now blinded by a hurtling transonic mass of lethal feathers, reflexively retreats in stunned silence. The bloodied foe is left plucking feathers from his hair, eyes, nose, ears, and the inside of his skull as the chicken sprints to freedom while mocking him all the while. He has just been soundly beaten by a 5 pound adversary with the IQ of handful of snot.

Edible Acres report: the first of our produce is starting to arrive. We're garnering some green tomatoes for a special southern fried treat. It's been awhile so it's time for fried green tomatoes! If you think that there won't be some pinto beans with bacon and fried taters with that, think again as this old son of an Okie is not about to waste such an excellent opportunity to put on a full scale feast!

The okra is also ready to cut (another feast awaiting) and the first of the bell peppers are already on the counter ready for canning, drying,  or to be transformed into a fajita or spaghetti dish. Some of the plumb harvest was put to fruit leather. It was a light harvest this year for some reason. The kobacha (Japanese pumpkin) are ready for canning. The squash are running late this year and we've lost a few plants. The 'zukes are struggling but the yellow-necks are moving along albeit slowly. They are in the #4 garden box which is now marked to get an overhaul this winter.

The grapes are struggling as well. It would seem that they didn't get enough water though the ol' rancher did focus on keeping them wet. Maybe he needs to overhaul his focuser.

The oranges are pitiful this year because of the drought. They were watered enough to keep them alive but that's about all. We lost a few trees and that is lamentable. Our oranges are usually beautiful and are as sweet as candy. I miss that.

The apples are coming along fairly well. I'm still not sure why my apple trees are midgets when there is no recollection of having planted midget trees. A couple of them are loaded with small green apples while another of the same variety (50 feet away) has ...none. One of the new Granny Smith trees died. Still not sure what happened but it up and croaked. At least the Bartlett pear is alive (though struggling). Maybe if I planted them in real dirt next time instead of the rock and sand in the front yard, eh?

Surprise! Surprise!! Surprise! (best Gomer Pyle accent): once in awhile, you need a good surprise in your life. Well, that's exactly what happened to dear Connie recently. Seems someone enlisted a co-conspirator to pull off a surprise for Side Cook Connie. The someone was Connie's daughter, Brandi, who lives in Washington state. She had conjured up the idea to fly down here so that her mother could spend some quality time with her grandson, Cade. Of course, the co-conspirator is no surprise. It was the Ol' Ranch Hand himself.

The ruse was simple and believable enough; we would go see dear friend and sister, Dottie Swadley, in Fresno on a particular Tuesday in June. It at made sense because we hadn't seen Dottie in 3 years or so and we needed to do so.

So, we did that; on "D-Day", we headed out for Fresno and met Dottie at "George's" Armenian restaurant on North Blackstone for lunch. My!! Did we have a great meal and the fellowship was grand!! I had the lamb kabob meal with sarma and all the trimmings. Sarma is Armenian-style stuffed grape leaves and is not to be confused with the Arabian shawarma which is similar to a Gyro. Connie had their fancy schmancy hamburger and enjoyed it immensely. We all vowed to do this again.

After about two-and-a-half hours, and after hugs all around, we departed for a tour of Fresno. I had long wanted to show Connie my old stomping grounds. After living there for fifteen  years, the place was rather familiar. But, after not having lived there for so long, mucho many things had changed! Fresno had been built up all the way to the San Joaquin River and there were things that I wanted to see!

After a couple of hours of being amazed at the changes, I headed towards FAT (that would be the "Fresno Air Terminal" for all you comedians out there) to see how it had changed as well. After a couple of laps around the place, we stopped at "Mazzei's Flying Service". I had flown with them a few times long ago and wanted to let them know that I would be returning for instruction.

Then, much to Connie's amazement, we headed to the main terminal to "see how things had changed there too". The timing was absolutely concurrent with the flight schedule so we waltzed around taking pictures. Connie later advised that she knew that I was the only person on the earth who would take time to check out an airport terminal. So, she thought little about us traipsing around the place and snapping away with the cell phone camera.

Well, out of nowhere (for Connie; I had seen Brandi and Cade coming down the arrival area), Connie heard her name being called (the grandkids call her "Honey"). She looked at me and was about to say, "Hey. Someone else's grandkids call them 'Honey'" when Cade embraced her from behind! She was in shock! She thought that we had stumbled into Brandi and Cade as they were travelling somewhere else! It was a hoot!! It took a few moments for her to catch on to the plan but she was overjoyed to be the recipient of such a surprise. It was a true "blubbery moment".

That was on a Tuesday so we had the next few days for quality time with them. During those days, Cade became an egg gatherer, a genuine chicken sitter, and a tractor driver. He ran the drag scraper around the back and helped smooth things out (a chore that was long overdue). The next time he comes down, perhaps we can enhance his firearms training. I'd like to see him be proficient in using small arms for hunting and self defense. We don't have an arsenal but we do have a few weapons that will cover those lessons.

Such lessons were invaluable during my life. I learned as a lad about Cade's age how to safely handle and use small arms. I hunted squirrels with my granddad and rabbits with my father. Later, elk were in my sights. The use of the venerable .410 shotgun, .22 pistol, and .22 rifle was to come in handy years later. There was no balking, fidgeting, or fake confidence when it was time for firearms qualifications at the Police Training Institute at the University of Illinois - Champaign/Urbana. Using the larger caliber .38 special and larger bore 12 gauge shotgun came quite naturally. They just made a louder noise and kicked a bit harder. 

I love the kick of the .308, the 30-06, and the .243, too. I've not yet taken my 7.62 x 39 (same round as the AK-47) SKS rifle out for a stroll yet. But, when deer season comes around, I may do that. So far, I'm waiting for the deer to track me down. They may have to wait for my next...day off.

On Saturday, we boarded the Camry and headed back to FAT so they could catch their flight. It was hugs and tears all around then they boarded the magic carpet and flew home. It was a beautiful and memorable time. 

Princes Abby report: Miss Abby is something else. She tackles the "Evil Water Stream" and gets totally soaked (I envy her, actually, since I probably need to help her defeat that thing so I can get wet and comfortable during the ...ahem...dog days....of summer). Then, she promptly does a series of horizontal aileron rolls in the ...dirt! Now, I can see that happening if she happened to be a chicken. My chickens regularly take a "dirt bath" and wallow in the dirt like a duck wallows in a pond. But, Abby is a canine (the ones without feathers) and needs to be a "clean doggie" not a dirty one. I'd send her to obedience school but I have this sneaking suspicion that they don't take coon dog curs without a huge deposit. I'll see if I can get my good friend Pavlov to help.

Well, neighbors, that's what's happening around Rancho Relaxo for now. Hang around and don't touch that URL thingy. Things could get ....interesting.... and you'll miss the "Harvest Edition". Later, all you taters, skaters, gators, and baiters.