Around noon today, as I was feeding mesquite chunks into the firebox of the smoker and wondering what I might post in Ranch Ramblins today,  I heard the unmistakable sound of a gobbler in the distance.  Springing into action, I grabbed the spray bottle and quickly gave the pork butt a liberal basting of apple cider to keep it moist.  Striding into the house, I grabbed the camera and went out front, and there I saw these two guys.

These wild tom turkeys were in the process of courting a hen, who was situated across the creek.  It is always a joy to watch their antics, as they try to outdo one another in their quest to attract the hen.  Much like teenagers.

When Retta went out this morning to do her early chores around the barn, she discovered this beautiful large moth on the trunk of a black walnut tree.  She told me to go and get the camera before the moth departed, and fortunately, when I arrived with camera in hand, the moth was still there.

In the following photo, I am not trying to catch the moth, but this was the only “handy” way to indicate scale –

A few years ago Retta again discovered an interesting find on an oak tree in our yard.  I have never encountered this kind of aggregation of caterpillars before, and we haven’t seen it happen since.

Last, but not least, I cannot forget to include my friend Morton, who keeps constant watch over me as I perform my yard chores.

AN APPOLOGY TO ALL:  I am sorry for possible slow loading times in the last few posts.  I was working on another project, and forgot that I had tinkered with my JPEG compression settings.  I have reset it to a more appropriate level for the blog.  Photo load times should be quicker from now on, as the file sizes will be much smaller.

This morning I read a post on Geek Acres referring to a comment on a post at Roundrock Journal regarding mayapples.  The comment was:

“mayapples and morel mushrooms (when spotted) are frequently in the same area.”

Armed with this information, Retta felt it was our duty to immediately begin a search of the area of our property most likely to have mayapples, in hopes of finding the elusive, yet delectable morel mushrooms that might possibly be nearby.  Off we went, heading towards an area that I knew hosted mayapples.  This spot we were seeking is alongside a small spring-fed creek, and the land in this particular area tends to be boggy for a few months a year.  It seemed to be an ideal habitat in which to find morels.

At last we arrived at our destination, and there, in all of their glory, was a group of mayapples.  Our timing was good, as the mayapples are in bloom just now.

This was a nice find on a beautiful Sunday morning.  Retta and I began to search the surrounding area, looking here and there on our quest for the elusive morels.  My searching was being disrupted, however, by a strange and eerie feeling that I was being watched.  This feeling wouldn’t shake me, and so my thoughts soon drifted away from the sought after morels, and instead focused on finding the source my mysterious trepidation.  After a little time spent looking around, it soon became apparent why I had felt spied upon –

Knowing now that my life was not in any danger, I felt obligated to continue on the quest.  There did not appear to be any morels in this area, so we continued on to another likely spot, along an adjacent creek.  Since it was a warm morning, Gracie decided to take a sitz bath in one of her watering holes within the creek bed –

And when she was finished with her sitz bath (or should I say mud bath), she now became the focus of my attention.  And to think, Retta and I had just brushed her out earlier this morning!

After spending some time looking for morels in this location and not finding any, we decided to press on to another spot we thought might be an appropriate environment for these mushrooms.  Along the way, however, we happened to pass a stand of black walnut trees, and decided to spend some time enjoying the beautiful flowers that awaited us there –

Search as we might, there was just no locating those very elusive, tantalizingly tasty morel mushrooms.  So I guess this morning wasn’t a success, was it?

In a comment to the previous post “How Can You Not Love A Face Like This?”,  MrC posed the following question:

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Earlier, Hal said “…as I bush-hog a field.”

Us city-folk are not so sophisticated.  I don’t know what bush-hogging is, but it sure doesn’t sound like something I would do to my wife.  :-)
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Well, MrC, this is a bush hog.  Actually, Bush Hog, as that is the trademark used by the Bush Hog Company to market their brand of rotary cutter (they were the inventor of this farm implement).  It is also referred to as a brush hog, a rotary cutter, or a shredder.

The implement my daughter is modeling above is a Bush Hog brand 7′ diameter rotary cutter.  Think of it as a lawnmower on a massive dose of steroids.  It will cut through grass, weeds, brush, and saplings up to 3 1/2″ in diameter.

In this photo, my son is demonstrating the proper technique for bush-hogging.  Notice the height of the grass and brush beyond the tractor?  It was definitely time to cut this field.  We schedule the cutting of our fields and pastures to create a habitat suitable to the needs of the varied wildlife in our midst (which will be the subject of a future post).

When you have finished bush-hogging a pasture, after a week or so it will look like this:

When you have finished bush-hogging your wife, after a week or so she might look this:

So, in conclusion, I would suggest that MrC and all the other city-slickers out there heed the following advice. DO NOT, under any circumstances, bush-hog your wife!

Duane from Geek Acres (see previous post) had a recent post on his site about ticks and the use of guineas in controlling them.  Duane and Jennifer have considered owning guineas, and a commentator advised them:

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“DON’T DO IT MAN!!!!!

Guineas may look all tiny and cute and helpful – but they are mean!!!

My parents had some on our farm. They constantly attached our sheep and other birds(including fights to the death). On the other hand they are fairly small. Up to you, just be aware I have talked to several other people who have the same sentiment about them. If any of your dogs are timid and are going to be in the same area as the guineas be aware they might get attacked also.”

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We want to take this opportunity to come to the defense of these poor, misunderstood, lovable creatures.  If you look closely at the first photo (above), you can clearly see the affection in this bird’s eye – not an iota of meanness is apparent in it’s countenance.

In the photograph below, do the dogs look the least bit disturbed by the presence of the guineas?  They’re not, and for good reason.  The guineas we’ve known have all been gentle creatures, who display a curiosity towards those around them.

Now, if you are really looking to possess a bird with aggressive tendencies, make sure to get a rooster.  They possess wickedly long, strong and sharp spurs, which they are prone to use at the slightest perceived provocation.  Imagine placing a carpentry nail against your shin.  Now, have a friend(?) whack the nail with a hammer, hard enough to cause the nail to penetrate bone.  Ouch!!!  That is what the spur of a rooster can, and will, do. Retta has a scar or two to prove it, ask her. 

The guineas are pretty smart, in their own way.  For example, they quickly learn that the discharge chute from my lawnmower emits oodles of lush, green grass.  Consequently, when I mow, I have a flock of guineas chasing after me and my mower (I’ll have to ask Retta to photograph this sometime – it is pretty comical, at least it has me grinning as I mow).  They have also learned to chase after the tractor as I bush-hog a field.  They quickly grab the grasshoppers and locusts that scatter in all directions when I pass.  In a fine Pavlovian manner, they come running whenever they hear the sound of the tractor or mower starting.  You can almost see them drooling!

We have seen a marked improvement (IE decline) in the tick population in the areas that the guineas patrol.  They lead a pretty boring life.  Unless nesting, they spend most, if not all, of their waking hours eating ticks (as well as other bugs).  They don’t scratch around everything, as chickens do, so your plantings are pretty much safe from them. 

Guineas play a cute game (at least I think it’s a game) which I call “Guinea Keep-Away”.  The guineas usually travel in flocks.  When one member of the flock finds a grasshopper, say, he will pick it up in his beak and run away with it.  This arouses the suspicion of the rest of the flock, who chase the first guinea to see what it has.  The first guinea, invariably, will drop the grasshopper.  Another guinea will pick it up and also run with it, until such time as he drops it.  Another guinea picks up the grasshopper and runs, and thus the cycle continues.  I don’t really know if this is “sport” or not, but it is consistent behavior, and it certainly appears as a game to me.  Oh yeah, they also perform this exact behavior with mice (that our cat tortures half-to-death) dangling from their beaks – gross!

Guineas help attract wild turkey to your property.  The turkey seem to sense the comfort level that the guineas have around humans and their paraphernalia, and hence are more prone to come around an inhabited site that has guineas.

But lest you think there are no negative traits with guinea fowl, consider this.  They are noisy.  It is said that they make fine “watchdogs”, in the sense of raising an alarm at anything that arouses their suspicion.  The problem is, they suspect almost everything and everyone, so expect to hear a lot from them.  And their grating, squawkish rasp sounds much like an axle that hasn’t seen grease in a long, long time (eeek… eeek… eeek… eeek… eeek… eeek… incessantly when aroused).  At those times, you can forget about taking that much anticipated nap in the patio lounge!  And if you have neighbors that live close by… well, you can imagine.

 

We raise our guineas from keets (chicks), that we usually get shipped from a local hatchery.  We have used Cackle Hatchery, in Lebanon, Missouri, and they have been dependable.  After raising the keets inside the house for several weeks, we transfer them out to the poultry pen pictured below.  It has a concrete footing, an interior portion with roosts, and an exterior “courtyard”. 

We keep the keets locked up in the coop until they are nearly fully grown.  By waiting until they are grown, the guineas seem to develop a sense of home.  At that time, we release the birds in the morning to roam around the grounds.  In the evening, the loose guineas return to the pen (sometimes with a little coaxing).  As the seasons warm up and summer approaches, some of the guineas decide that they would rather sleep on top of the pen, rather than inside.  There isn’t much we can do about it.  They are safe from ground predators there, but we believe that we lose several a year to owls swooping down on them at night.

But credit for our success with guineas definitely goes primarily to Retta.  It is Retta who buys and raises the keets, and feeds, waters and generally sees to their well-being. And, as the photo below proves, she spends a lot of time in a rigorous training regimen.  Here, she is training the guineas to walk in single-file  ;>)

In conclusion, I’ll offer my advice to Duane and Jennifer:  DO IT MAN!!! You won’t regret your decision.

Make way, there is a new blog in the Ozark neighborhood, and it’s called Geek Acres.  Duane (the self-described geek), and his wife Jennifer, have recently purchased a hobby farm outside of Springfield, Mo. as their new residence.  Duane intends to utilize Geek Acres to chronicle their adventures as they transition to a new environment.

Neither Duane or Jennifer are new to blogging.  Duane also publishes Minutia – thoughts of duanekeys, and Jennifer publishes Ramblings of a Flower Addict.  Both are excellent blogs, so I expect that Geek Acres will follow in the same suit.

I’ll be looking for your keen insights and observations as you settle into your new place.  Good luck to you both.

….. is Hal, the defender of the ranch, and a somewhat naive newcomer to the rural scene, in need of plain old experience.  And in the opposing corner, Willard – otherwise known as Rattus, of the order Rodentia.  And the bell rings –

ROUND 1:  Hal is so naive, he doesn’t even know that there is a competition underway.  Day in and day out, blissfully unaware, Hal undertakes his tractor work, and when finished for the day, parks the New Holland back in the equipment barn.  All seems well, until one day, Hal begins his day of bush-hogging, which is rudely interrupted by a cloud of steam billowing out from beneath the hood of the tractor. “Oh oh, this can’t be good” Hal mutters, as he lifts the bonnet to assess the situation.  He soon discovers the cause of the overheated diesel engine.  A rat had built a nest atop the engine intake manifold, which had apparently become dislodged as the tractor was started.  The nest fell down, and became wedged between the fan belt and the belt pulley, thus flipping the belt off the pulley.  With the fan belt gone, the engine eventually overheated, which was the cause of the cloud of steam.  A few gallons of anti-freeze and a new fan belt later, the tractor was good as new and parked back in the equipment barn.

ROUND 2:  Hal is so naive, he doesn’t suspect that this will ever happen again, and he deludes himself into thinking that this was a freak, one-time occurrence.  For a while, fate cooperates with this delusional thinking.  Hal judiciously checks under the bonnet of the tractor prior to each use, under the misguided premise that all rat attacks occur in the same fashion as in ROUND 1. As long as the engine is clear of any debris before being started, Hal reasons, then no problems can possibly arise.  For a year, no problems arose.  Until one day, when Hal checked under the bonnet and found another rat’s nest.  Congratulating himself on being so foresightful as to check the engine compartment prior to starting the tractor, he proceeds to clear away the nest material from the engine.  But much to Hal’s chagrin, he discovers that the rat had chewed through 2 of the tractor’s wiring harnesses.  One week and $500 later, the tractor is back to normal.

ROUND 3:  Hal is so naive, he once again underestimates the determination of the order Rodentia to make life miserable for man.  Now, as a result of the outcomes of ROUND 1 and ROUND 2, Hal figures that besides checking under the bonnet prior to each use of the tractor, he should also store the tractor in the barn with the bonnet wide open.  Hal confidently figures that this will discourage the rat from again nesting upon the engine (which the rat seems to have taken a liking to).  And once again, the brilliance of Hal’s reasoning stands the test of time. A short time.  One day (those “one days” always seem to come about, don’t they?), when Hal turns the ignition key to start the tractor, he is greeted by the sound of silence.  Confident that this was merely a mechanical problem, as the pre-use checkout of the engine compartment revealed nothing unusual, Hal proceeded with the usual troubleshooting procedures called for in this situation. Ruling out the battery as the culprit, and then the starter as well, Hal began the tedious task of tracing the starter circuitry to diagnose the problem.  What Hal eventually found was that the rat had now found an entryway to the area situated between the dashboard and firewall of the tractor.  Removing the instrument cluster from the dashboard, Hal was greeted by the sight of a rat scurrying away from the scene of the crime.  Left behind was the evidence of his unwelcome stay – four wiring harnesses completely chewed to pieces.  Three weeks and $1000 later, the tractor was again good as new.

ROUND 4:  What is that old saying?  Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on you; fool me three times, shame on you; but fool me four times, and SHAME ON ME (I think it goes something like that).  So as not to be shamed by a rat, I decided it was time to get tough with this guy.  But I also believe in the principal of “live and let live”, so extermination was out of the question.  I could try to trap the rat and relocate it, but that solution would require lots of activity on my part, so I quickly abandoned any further thought along those lines.  And then it dawned on me – snakes – and lots of them!  Snakes would be the ticket to a rat-free tractor ownership experience. So, after some comparison shopping on the internet, I ordered an assortment of snakes.  Not real, live snakes, mind you, but realistic looking rubber snake replicas.

ROUND 5:  Has not taken place, as the rat has not shown up again since I put the snakes to use last year.  So I guess that I won the bout in the fourth round, due to the disqualification of my worthy opponent!   Or so I hope…….

The Grassing of the Carp

This annual rite begins with the ceremonial “exchanging of the blades“, in which the fall/winter mulching blades are are removed from the lawnmower, and replaced with spring/summer high-lift blades.

Next, all interested parties are invited to gather in the specified viewing area, beside a ranch pond, in a rite called “the assembly of the plebes“. They come from far and wide to witness this impending spectacle.

 

A lone coot arrives on the scene, attracted by the commotion taking place before him.

Soon, Retta spots a reptilian guest, who just wanted to know what all the fuss was, and why did we disturb his nap in the spring warmth?  I just wanted to know if it was safe to go into the water.

 

It soon becomes apparent that the reptiles don’t want to be too outnumbered by the mammals, and reinforcements begin to arrive, in the form of a snapping turtle. The duck?  He just sits there, always with the same blank look in his eye.

You can sense the excitement in the air, in anticipation of the of the impending “rites of the first swath“.  In this rite, the previously prepared lawnmower (see “the exchanging of the blades“, above) is called into service.  By maneuvering it into just the right position along the pond bank, a steady stream of long grass cuttings can be sprayed onto the surface of the pond water –

At last, in a grand culmination to all of the pomp and circumstance that has taken place, the subjects for whom this ceremony has been created, finally arrive.  They are the Grass Carps, who, after dreaming of this moment throughout their long winter hibernation, begin their sumptuous feast!

And thus goes “The Grassing of the Carp“