DRY CRIK Journal

STONEMASONS

2008-09-04T14:56:19Z

            The beauty of things was born before eyes and
                sufficient to itself; the heart-breaking beauty
            Will remain when there is no heart to break for it.
                                    - Robinson Jeffers (“Credo”)

Each stone fit into a wall of words
works across the landscape, holds
sweet notions close and chaos out.

A remnant seam along the draw,
where you saw rattlesnakes rise
entwined, kept the Bequette hogs

fat on acorns so their Durham cows
wouldn’t slip their calves, remains
after my father hauled smaller rocks

into a wall of his own. Only boulders
left, I marvel at the days and years
inched-out of the bottom with bars –

the deliberate rhythm of a heart
working at the edge of a moraine
shaping poetry to last a century.

HORSE POETRY

2008-08-22T13:47:20Z

The current irritants
like flies light
just beyond reach,

indefinable swarms
on the outskirts
of my mind.

Rearrange
coffee cup
and ashtray –

stack scattered
yellow notes
and nameless numbers –

make space,
inhale
and write

like horses head-to-tail
in dreams washed
rhythmically across

closed-eyes.
It seems a poetry
we might emulate:

sweet diversions
to seductive places
that brush the flesh.

Shipping Steers 2008

2008-08-17T19:57:51Z

It’s been a remarkable summer as we began to punctuate our year with the shipping of our steer calves last Thursday – before the new calves come, before cooler weather and any real chance of rain returns to start our season again. With even more invested in time, energy and money than usual, Robbin and I drove down to the irrigated pasture for an evening look before we shipped them. Bittersweet to think of them leaving.

]]>

We had planned to sort two loads several days prior to shipping to allow the calves to regain the shrink lost in the sorting, but we opted to ship and sort them on the same day because of the growing uncertainties surrounding an outbreak of tuberculosis at a Fresno County dairy – hoping to avoid TB testing that would have required running the calves through the chute to have a veterinarian inject a ‘purified protein derivative’ at the tailhead of each and then to run them through again for a reading 72 hours later. Unfortunately, other species of the Mycobactermium, not infectious to humans, complicate diagnosis with false positive reactions, requiring yet another set of testing.

It was tough call to absorb the shrink on shipping day, but TB testing didn’t seem fair to the calves who’d been through the chute numerous times already to satisfy the current vaccination preferences of the feedlots. A long ways from any dairies and not in contact with any stray cattle, the chance of TB in our calves was nil.

Bob and Randy Baxley, local rep for Stampede.com, the Internet auction.

Clarence at the gate.

John watching from the scales.

Loading the truck.

See Robert 'Shoofly' Shufelt's a wonderful lithograph entitled "Down Time". Copy & Paste Link:

www.studio-w.com/shoofly/New%20Images/zoom%206-2.htm

FOR CUTLER IRL BAUSCHER

2008-08-03T15:21:52Z

Hint of smoke from northern fires
holds a pink glow upcanyon, dawn late
upon dark ridges near trimmed in white

ribbons rising – lifting the purple cloak
of night into another Sabbath morn.
Without sound, it could be Day One.

You may not ever see it so, or feel
as forgiven – relieved of the complexities
coiled like barbed wire of abandoned fences,

old strands rusting years in the grass.
With your short clock, third day nosed
upon my daughter’s breast – you feel it now

waking in and out of shapeless dreams
you’ll paint yourself in time – in times
where space alone may not be enough

to let the day dawn upon you –
or let the gloaming ride into starlight
with all the endless universes beckoning.

]]>

Photo arrived after the poem, but seemed to fit.

At The Coast

2008-07-26T18:40:04Z

READING RAYMOND CARVER IN CAPITOLA, MONARCH COVE

A distant mower finds a bone.
Pelicans glide in and out of gray
while a battalion of white wedding chairs
stares emptily into the fog, a carpet
of rose petals browning on the lawn.

]]>

With Chuck home from fighting fires near Chico on Friday, and Clarence back from fishing the Wood River in Idaho Sunday, Robbin and I slipped off to the coast for a few days to get out of the heat and relax. We read, napped and ate seafood for two days in Cambria, then on up the Pacific Coast Highway through Big Sur to visit my daughter Amanda in Capitola who is 8.5 months pregnant with her first child. It was foggy and delightful weather!

Out among the tourists, I couldn’t help but take a couple of snapshots of a father packing-up. I’ve always wondered how those rooftop cargo containers might be organized. Like taking pictures of wildlife, I had to sneak around for these two shots.

South of Big Sur, lightning struck the ridge above to start the 65,000 acre Basin Complex Fire.

Bixby Bridge, Big Sur

Robbin and I had a fun lunch at Nepenthe’s in Big Sur.

Had to include this guy with his dog. Just what the doctor ordered, we had a ball!!

LIVESTOCK

2008-07-18T13:38:56Z

                        I learned the other tongue
                        by which men spoke to beasts
                        – all its terms and tones.
                                      - Wendell Berry ("Horses”)

A murmur of words at the saddle rack –
an easy mind’s awakening in the dark
before the first light of fearful news
spreads into summer heat by afternoon.

A good horse listens well, drops an ear,
scoops the sound of breath and heartbeat
from the mantra of familiar words
for their meaning at the moment.

Finding inconsistencies easy to spot,
even cows can tell you what you don’t
truly want to know about yourself
crossing the wild range of their eyes.

Once I grinned at old men in dented pickups
rising early to feed a dozen, fat cows –
watched them cling to the tailgate, anything
to keep their balance and to stay upright.

- for E.J.

RESIDENTS

2008-07-13T14:49:16Z

More than hands can grasp or minds
undress completely, there is no religion –
no one-god-for-sale for everyone, yet

a tree frog lives in the dark overflow
of the new bathroom basin, perches
on its ceramic edge when the faucet runs,

then leaps to the higher ground
of towels draped loosely in the corner
to watch me brush my teeth. Sometimes

he explores beyond the door looking
for someone, but quick to retreat
to the sink, his home. Even the smallest

have dominion woven with man’s – and we
each bear the weight of the sky like ants
in a world without coincidence. The Red Tail

greets the 4-wheel drive with a low glide,
recognizes hay truck from the rare hunter’s
loud gunshots and the flutter of crippled quail.

Crimson Sunrise

2008-07-12T21:29:25Z

This past week the smoke from the ongoing Northern California fires returned with temperatures flirting with record highs as we finished weaning. The diffused early morning light lent a softness and increased depth of field to Robbin’s photos as we headed to Greasy Creek to take the cows back to their home pasture.

We enlisted the help of Jody Fuller and her grandson Sam to gather and keep the cows together as they followed the pickup up the hill. A reward for Sam, both had risen early several times in the past 10 days to help us process our weaned calves.

Clarence Holdbrooks at the gate.

Bob on Red

John & Clarence

Thanks Sam!

Steers

2008-07-12T20:46:25Z

2 loads for mid-August delivery: 68 head, 715 lbs., all-natural Angus and black-whiteface steers; 70 head, 700 lbs., Angus and black-whiteface steers. EID, VAC 45-90. Born 8/15 to 12/15/2007. Beef Quality Assurance Certified.

First & Last

2008-07-06T20:41:43Z

Busy everyday, we began weaning on May 21st and finished gathering the last field on the 4th of July. We’ve been able to implement ‘fenceline weaning’ for every bunch, fully utilizing our recent water development that allows us to corral the calves on water next to their mothers during the week-long process. It does entail burning a little more fuel to haul hay to remote locations, but the stress on both cows and calves seems substantially diminished. Certainly the calves look better this year, weighing 50 pounds heavier than last. Keeping the calves full and next to their mothers for an extra week before the haul down the hill has helped, but also I think the calves were in a little better shape when we began weaning this year.

After only two days in the corral, the calves (above) have obviously adapted to the new menu. Looking through the boards (below), the cows are really more interested in the alfalfa than their calves.

Well-broke to the hay truck, the first two bunches weaned pose at the gate (below) for Robbin on our way down from Greasy. Ready for sale, they’ve completed our vaccination program and wear their premise and individual IDs. More than likely, most will sell on Superior/Stampede’s Internet auction later this month for an August delivery. Because I’m also working on a private treaty sale, I can now direct the buyer here.

Gratified and tired, it’s been an intense five weeks. Clarence took off for the pines this weekend, Chuck’s still on a fire somewhere north, I got the lawn mowed and Robbin has time in the garden. All good!

DROPS OF RAIN

2008-06-29T21:05:40Z

For some
it comes down
like a sprinkle of rain
as if from heaven –

a slow soaker, shirt
matted to the flesh, that
bare-chested feeling
reborn again – even

spun in summer’s clutch
of dust and drought.
No urgency or rush
to that last embrace

when winter waits
for everyone, each
moment counts
like drops of rain.

Valley of a Thousand Smokes

2008-06-27T12:37:03Z

Kaweah River as it enters the Valley

We have hundreds of new fires in northern California, tinder dry after two years of drought, our visibility here limited to about a mile during this past week. “Valley of a Thousand Smokes,” the natives called the San Joaquin. The smoke and dust as we wean calves is hard on the lungs and eyes of men and beasts, but the weather’s cooled into the low 90s – forecasts in the 100s by the weekend.

Robbin’s collarbone seems to be healing well. Shorthanded without her, and Chuck on another fire in Napa, Clarence and I have enlisted my son’s help. We’re tickled with his youthful humor.

2008 calves

June16, 2008

2008-06-16T11:53:33Z

The weather’s warmed into the 100s, shorthanded we continue to wean calves. Fires around the state this past week have pulled our right-hand man away from Dry Creek. Robbin’s collarbone is healing, which leaves the gathering, feeding and processing to Clarence and I, 10 years his junior. We’re plodding methodically towards an end that’s not yet in sight, but making progress.

June Sabbath

2008-06-08T20:57:12Z

Red-headed Decons

Robbin and I grabbed a thermos of coffee early this morning to catch these Turkey Vultures drying their feathers. With more weaning yet to do, we got the calves below out of bed. Mid-90s with pleasant breezes.

2008 Weaned Calves

Tailor Bob

2008-06-02T15:58:15Z

Yesterday, while fevered-up with some new foreign strain of the flu, I was nodding in and out of sleep as Errol Flynn played Custer on the Western Channel. “They Died With Their Boots On,” the 1941 version of George Armstrong Custer as a duty-bound hero who rode to the Little Big Horn apparently knowing that he and his men would not return. I thought of my friend Henry Real Bird and the Crows’ annual reenactment of that battle, the Canadian-Montanan phrase “the last-best west” and James Earle Fraser’s sculpture, “The End of the Trail” that slumped among Visalia’s Valley Oaks at Mooney’s Grove for 48 years.

But nothing like a fever to take you down a notch or two, or undermine delusions that we Americans have the inside track on good management decisions, both political and business, but Roger Cohen’s Op-Ed piece in the New York Times (June 2, 2008), “The World is Upside Down” is the ‘tailor bob,’ the end of the thread that most Americans cannot yet wrap their minds around. Link: (copy and paste)

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/02/opinion/l02cohen.html?_r=1&th&emc=th&oref=