Shavings for Lucy

All of the horses have been happy in the barn this week.  Of course, with nine inches of rain in the course of four days and howling winds, the barn was a much nicer place to be than the pastures.  In the pasture, you have to dodge falling trees and streams criss-crossing every-which way, not to mention thunder, lightening and bobcats.  (the bobcat doesn't seem to concern the horses, but it bothers me).

This is the view from Lucy's stall door to her run-out.  Can you see Tuffy's head poking out of the donkey pasture shelter?  And the dressage court way off in the top left hand corner.  Nice view, for the horses, of the misty hills.

In the barn, there is room service -- three times a day.  Plus snacks.  Last night, Brett forgot to turn off the radio that he plays when working in the barn, so there was country music for them all night long.  I'm not actually sure that they think that's a good thing.  The best part for Lucy is shavings.  Yesterday, Brett brought a bag of shavings into her stall to replace the dirty ones he had removed.  She walked over to help; grabbing the top of the bag in her teeth and ripping it open.  Brett couldn't dump the bag fast enough for her; she stood next to him, pawing at the pile of shavings he shook from the bag.  When he left her stall to throw away the bag, she promptly rolled.  And rolled and rolled and rolled.  Shavings: they are the best.  (when you are Lucy, anyway)

Lucy always has some shavings on her back and in her tail when she's in the barn.

Tex is in the stall to the left of Lucy.  He is a very nosy horse.  Whenever we go into her stall, he wants to know what we're up to.  You know that feeling of having someone watching you intently?

He's more cautious about the aisle.  Lucy, Flash and Pistol all hang their heads out, into the aisle, to make sure that you notice they are famished and in need of a snack.

Tex will touch the window with his nose, but he won't hang his head all the way out.  Just a whisker.  On a good day.

Meanwhile, the streams did an excellent job of carrying all that rain off of our property.  Many properties were flooded, with streams cresting their banks and flowing into vineyards, orchards, fields, houses and roads.  Further up the highway, there were rock slides and avalanches.  The highway was closed at the top of the Sierra.  This morning our county was declared to be in a state of emergency. We consider ourselves fortunate.  I was afraid that the fallen tree would inhibit the flow of our largest stream, but the water just carved a path around it and  kept on going.

The tree is massive.  Well, we knew that.  Standing on the grass next to the trunk, I can't see over the top.  This is the view from my eye level -- and I'm a tall girl (5'8" and some change).

Yesterday, Brett ordered a massive chain saw.  The small one he uses on projects around the property isn't going to work with this tree.

Crying Over Chickens

I've seen bobcat tracks in the snow around the chicken pen and, even after the snow was washed away, Kersey was sniffing around the perimeter in the mornings.  We were feeling kind of smug about it; our chickens safe inside and the bobcat pacing outside.

Until this morning.  We found one dead chicken and the carcass of another.  Picked clean.

I looked in the hen house and the two remaining hens were sitting on the highest rung of their roosting ladder.  Our beautiful black Andalusian rooster, Lord Byron, was a few rungs down, severely wounded.  I don't know if he will make it.  Calvin, the other rooster, was making quiet clucking noises from his perch on the nesting boxes.  When I opened the door, he went out into the run, spread his wings and crowed for all he was worth.

The two hens that were killed were favorites: Dixie Chick and my last Cuckoo Maran.  Plus the wounded rooster, Lord Byron, who is so beautiful and sweet.

I am certain it was the bobcat.  Brett has wire panels covering the sides and the top of pen, and chicken wire going partway up the sides.  The panels on the side have very small openings; four inches square.  On the top, the new panels are also 4" square but there are some older panels with larger openings, 4" x 6".  I think the bobcat climbed the side and squeezed through one of those larger openings.  It took him a few weeks to find a way in, but he was ultimately successful.

I moved the water bowl into the hen house and waited for Calvin to go back inside.  It took awhile, he wandered around in the rain for quite awhile before a thunderclap and heavy downpour drove him back inside.  Dixie Chick and the Cuckoo Maran were his hens.  I closed the door to the hen house, and the little pop-up door as well.

I don't cry often or easily, but I found myself fighting - and then giving in - to tears.  We have worked so hard to keep our chickens safe and I feel like we failed them.  Brett feels badly about the larger openings on the top panels; but we both agreed, at the time he installed them, that no animal could get through.

Between the loss of the tree and the loss of the chickens, its been a sad week at Oak Creek Ranch.