The big seasonal shift

Today Karla and Hilary headed for the hills. Ben decided to go along too, as did dogs Sioux and Sallie. Oh, and so did Florence, if you count cats. Luke had already flown in to the ranch by helicopter a couple of weeks ago.

I phoned this evening and they all had arrived safe and sound at Florence Lake. Luke was there to greet them, and to delight Karla by having cleaned out the cabin of the winter’s rat shenanigans. The way the cabin at the lake is built makes it near impossible to keep those rodents out. But I am certain Luke will come up with a way to do it, even if it involves encasing the entire structure in reinforced concrete. Not too attractive, but hey.…

Every year we go through this whole routine. It’s been done for over 60 years and involves taking the stuff you need with you to the lake like clothes, food, and toiletries, and stuff like records of boat rental agreements, and extra blankets to replace the ones the rats decided to live in. Speaking of rats, I’m sure we have more of them than anyplace on earth. At least when you look at the destruction they can wreak. You never see one, but you can count on finding their toilets everywhere. Big cats can help control them, but we’re not so sure kitty Florence is up to the task. Sallie, the little black dog, can probably outperform Florence at the task.

Meanwhile, back at the (lower) ranch, my duties increase. Answering phone calls and responding to emails fills my day. I get up early, before the onset of oppressive heat, and get all the irrigation of plants and trees done. Old horses need feed supplements. When noontime comes and we have enough solar power, I turn on the well pump so I have enough water to keep everything alive and maintain a tankful of water to help fight the inevitable wildfire that so far hasn’t happened. It’s coming. We haven’t had a big fire since 1961. We are very overdue since the normal cycle is a wildfire every eight years to keep things in check. Nature’s way of lots of small frequent fires keeps our wild lands healthy. But humans have messed with nature’s plan to detrimental results.

In my next post, I’ll speak of policies that make fires more destructive than they need be.

Update: Not next post, another post. What I wrote for my next post was really too angry to put up.

Corn chowder and cat diet observation

Today it was cold, not a nice day to be outside for too long. Time to fire up the wood-burning stove and dream up something to cook slowly in a big pot. From last summer’s leftovers from the high ranch we had food that languished in the back freezer. Like a slab of thick-cut bacon. Premium stuff. In the fridge was a package with six pieces of corn on the cob. It didn’t take too much imagination to decide to make corn chowder, the perfect chilly-day meal.

I cooked the bacon on the wood stove to perfection. Then I sliced the corn from the cobs. Some of it popped off and landed on the floor. When food-like things hit the floor, Boots the cat pays attention. She glommed onto the raw corn bits as if she were starved! A veggie cat? Cats are strict carnivores, I thought, but then I remembered that Boots has also eaten bits of onion, potato, and even broccoli (kidding!). Earlier today I spotted Florence, Boots’ sister, eating fresh shoots of grass outside.

Am I to toss out the “knowledge” I have about cats’ diets? What if I related my personal observation to someone and had no way to back it up, authority-wise? Would I be dismissed as a mere anecdotal observer?

Cats are strict carnivores, period. I must be wrong. Forget what I said. Whew! Safe in the lap of established scientific dogma, I can sleep tonight.

Boots is wrong.

Stupid cat.