Nature's Plan

When I moved here, my newly-widened lane was flanked with the red-brown clay that passes here for soil. I decided I needed to plant flowering trees along it, to brighten up the woods and hopefully help keep back the blackberries. I started this winter, planting a few lilacs. And then the Elderberries came into bloom. The Elderberries that seem to sprout up wherever there is disturbed soil, and that now line sections of the lane. Their creamy white blossoms cheerily announced spring.

Other native trees are now taking on the brightening duties, with flowers (I think these are Oregon Boxwoods) and colorful seed pods.

Some scrappy-looking plants have been establishing themselves in the clay. I'd been wondering what they were and if it was wise to let something that spread so fast to take hold, but decided anything was better than the Himalayan blackberries that are the bane of the Northwest. They then put on a growth spurt and turned into flows of delightful long-stemmed greenish-white and pink flower stalks. Tellima grandiflora or fringecup, a northwest native described as "somewhat aggressive", seems to be out-competing everything. Pretty pink claytonia sibirica, a purslane called candy flower, adds color interest.

I can't wait to see what blooms next. One of the lilacs I planted shows up in front of the log as a forked white stem. It isn't doing so well. And I thought I could improve upon nature.

Breakout!

I've previously mentioned my Houdini goat, Nibbles. Here she is, the picture of sweet innocense. You'll notice, however, that she is on the lush side of the fence.

And today she brought her friends along. They are having a great time digging into the blackberries that are growing madly with the warm and wet weather we've been having. I'm quite happy to have this area pruned, but do prefer to be the instigator. I decided Nibbles had a good idea, and my self-motivated mowers (the sheep) have joined the goats and are edging the lane. They seem to prefer weeds to grass, but both need taming if I'm to have driving room this summer.

Foxtail Farm

Due to sheep selection I may need to rename my farm from Ravenwood to Foxtail. These hardy plants are doing much better than the grass I'm trying to establish as pasture for my sheep and goats. This is a difficult task as I don't have enough fenced areas to give the grass a fair start, and of course the soil is heavy clay.

Elsewhere, in non-sheep areas, the foliage is highly varied. Obviously these other plants taste good to sheep. It's a good thing sheep don't like foxglove, as they are poisonous plants. I'm glad I don't have to scour the fields for plantlings. I will have to attempt to reduce their numbers, but I'll wait until after they've bloomed. They are beautiful.

WildWatchCams

The Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife has a series of wildlife cams that are very interesting. I haven't seen my bald eagles lately, so I went there to view their Kent Eagle cam - and there's a chick! It looks like a chick in the Osprey cam nest too, but it's so rainy today it's hard to tell.

A fun way to spend some time on a wet Washington weekend.

Go to http://www.wdfw.wa.gov/wildwatch/eaglecam/

Raven Young

A profusion of raven calls greeted me when I poked my head out the door last weekend. By the time I got down to the location of the fuss, all evidence of ravens had flown. However, the next day on my way to work I saw a young, bedraggled raven picking at the goose food on the side of the lane. That night he was on my neighbors covered car. By morning he made it to the garage roof, and from there to the house roof. He croaked mornfully, as if the world had abandoned him, banishing him to a wet and loney existence. I put food out for him, but got only raspy calls and suspicious looks. I last saw him in the trees next to the house. Hopefully the adult ravens I saw winging his direction were his parents, and he is now off learning how to earn a raven livelyhood.

Sunrise in Spring

The weather is warm and sunny and the sun is rising over Mount Rainier - it must be spring. Lovely long days are the reward we receive for tolerating the damp, dark winter. The new resident swallows swoop past the window and the air is alive with birdsong. Glorious spring.

Roosting Roosters

For those who don't believe that chickens can fly.

Low Flying Birds

I live on a narrow ridge on the way to the foothills of the Cascade Mountains. There are some interesting things that happen when you live on a ridge.

Birds flying from point A to point B are pretty determined about flying. Last winter while sitting at my computer I turned to look out the window. A Bald Eagle was flying by like a transport plane, just about at eye level. I went outside to see where he was heading, and saw him take a straight path almost due south.

Now that was strange - exciting, but strange. Eagles are magnificant creatures, especially when seen so closely and in flight. It wasn't until a couple weeks ago that the reason for the low flight occurred to me. I was about to get in my car when a Kingfisher flew by at eye level, about a foot from my nose. He didn't seem to notice me, the car, my dogs. Why would he fly by so low?

The birds are on their way somewhere, flying high above the ground and the trees. They come across a ridge, but as long as their path is still above ground and tree level, they don't adjust altitude. They just get very close to the ground at the top of the ridge.

So I get a birds-eye-view of the birds. Life is good!

Berry Delight

Blackberries, while good to eat, are a real problem in the Pacific Northwest. Anytime the soil is disturbed Himlayan blackberries take root. Today between showers I was clipping back vines. My goal was to clear out the area I see out the kitchen window.

As I started clipping and piling, my donkey brayed and the sheep baahed. What was I doing throwing away perfectly good food when they were obviously starving. So I moved down their direction (there are berries everywhere) and threw the branches next to the fence. Heads popped through the fence and devored the greens. The pigmy goat Nibbles (someday I will learn to not take animals people don't want anymore) aperated through the fence and helped clear the leaves so I could see the big vines.

At some point I realized I had stopped working at clearing out berries (a job) and started feeding treats to my animals (a joy). They've done a great job of clearing their field and a path outside the fence themselves. It doesn't look like their necks are 2 feet long, but a path that size exists that wasn't here last year.

When I started clearing a path to Jesse, who had taken a walk in the woods and gotten stuck on the other side of a briar patch, I got grumbles from the fenced crew. Jesse rescued, I came in for a late lunch, and the sheep wandered off. Nibbles levitated back into the field (I never actually see her get between places, but she seems to go at will).

I now have a much larger path, several berry-free moss-covered stumps sprouting huckleberries, and happy sheep. Another good day.

Keeping Watch

Jesse the Samoyed hangs out with Ursa (Caucasian Ovtcharka) and Berna (Anatolian Shepherd Dog). 

Samoyed at Sunrise

Jesse recently figured out how to squiggle under the gate into the sheep field, and under the fence by the pond. You are seeing what happens when a fluffy white dog digs and squirms through mud. He's quite pleased with himself, barking at the rising light. Or perhaps he's telling his tale to the sheep-who-thinks-he's-a-dog.

Posing on the front porch, not understanding why I wouldn't let him inside, Jesse thinks his mud coat is the latest fashion.

Swallow Rapture

It must be spring - the swallows have returned.

As I was putting Berna in her daytime abode I heard happy chattering. I turned to see four tree swallows gliding, diving and swooping around the eaves, over to the fir tree, up in the air. Chatter, chatter, chatter (that's how you can tell they are tree swallows). I'm hoping the swoops and chitters of delight mean they have decided this is home.

I'll go to work today a bit happier, a bit more aware of this wonderful world, this beautiful place that delights tree swallows. Swallows who dance their joy across the sky.

Two Beauties - Maddie and Pele Grace

Great Pyrenees or Pyrenean Mountain Dogs

Euzkotar Taylor Made For Love VA CGC 3/4/90 to 11/28/2003

Euzkotar Love's Ring Fire VE CGC 3/4/90 - 8/23/2003

Maddie came to stay with me several times when her human family went on vacation. Here is a story that became my tribute to this wonderful dog.
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This morning I let Maddie out to splash in the ponds and get covered in mud as is her routine here (and not allowed at home). She did not come in when I called her for breakfast - definitely unusual. But I could hear her barking her presence to the world, so I wasn't concerned.

When I went out to feed the sheep, Maddie was in the loafing shed - vigilantly guarding one yearling doe (who didn't belong there), one ewe, and one newborn lamb. She wasn't disturbing the pair, wasn't trying to take over the lamb (a common problem with new guardians), she was just guarding. Then she would go out onto the bridge, bark a warning, and return. During the time I was feeding she did one full round of the field, a solid bark down the creek, and ended up back in with the new family. Looking very, very happy.

My dogs are much more casual these days about lambs. Drew was lounging on the hill that overlooks the entire sheep area, and Natasha was out patrolling the fence line. I think that as the oldest dog Maddie gets to call the shots on where her presence is needed.

Maddie is 8 years old, the mother of two litters. One of her pups was the 1996 and 1997 top winning Pyrenean in Finland, and a house and yard dog. A pup from her second litter is a full time Alpaca guardian in Alaska.

The first time I saw Maddie was in a show ring, at my first show. She is, however, from solid working lines. Maddie herself has several working 1/2 sibs. One of her mother's sisters guarded llamas until she died at the age of 12. Others worked in varying environments. Her mother's sire was not only a show champion and producer of champions, but had any number of pups who guarded successfully on both small family farms and large open range situations.

I would gladly take this show dog, house pet, and brood bitch as a working dog to protect my flock. Her instincts are obviously very much intact, she knows a job when she sees one, and does it. She can, and has, done it all.

The Protected

 

Working Livestock Guardian Dogs (LGDs)

Dogs have been used to protect livestock as long as people have been raising sheep and goats. Livestock Guardian Dogs live with and protect their charges, instead of herding them like Border Collies, Shelties, Corgies, and other herding breeds. They are large dogs, independent, and have definite minds of their own.

Traditionally, LGDs worked in conjunction with shepherds as flocks ate their way through the landscape. The use of dogs as flock guardians had dwindled by WWII, and after the war it was rare to see working guardians in Europe.

In the 1970s the USDA started experimenting with LGDs to prevent coyote predation of sheep, the Coppingers did research at Hampshire college, and several dedicated Great Pyrenees breeders started placing dogs into working situations, and learned how to support the livestock producers who took on their puppies.

The role of the working LGD in the United States is quite different from their historic roles. They and their charges are usually kept in fenced pastures without a constant human shepherd for backup. LGDs are used to guard a wide variety of animals - sheep, goats, llamas, poultry, and pretty much any critters that need protecting against predators. The predators are most often coyotes and loose dogs, although cougar, bear and even wolves threaten the more remote farms.

Of course, even those dogs kept as companions work. They protect their homes and people, and any other animals within their domain. This means they bark a lot. They make their own decisions, which means they are stubborn and tend to go deaf when what they hear isn't what they want to do. They don't take well to strangers on their territory. Wonderful dogs, but not for everyone.

Sunny Day Dogs

Berna and her mentor Hannah the Border Collie. Ursa is in the distance in one of her favorite spots, overlooking the sheep field and enjoying the view.

Ursa and Charlie strolling along the fence, each in a different field. The lamb was raised near the dogs, and now thinks he's a livestock guardian sheep.

 

Berna - Anatolian Shepherd Dog

Berna is a guardian-dog-in-training. Isn't she lovely? Pinto markings aren't common for ASDs, but I think they are beautiful. Anatolians are the Turkish version of Livestock Guardian Dogs.

This summer my challenge is to teach her that birds are to be protected, not chased. She was raised by Hannah the Border Collie, and Border Collies think chasing is what life is all about. At two, Berna is maturing and calming, and I have high hopes for her working career.

Foster Tor

Tor the foster Great Pyrenees thinks he's part of the dog crew.

Tor came to me starving and almost without coat. While he looks scrawny here, he's fattened up nicely, and has a full undercoat - amazing what plentiful food and good nutrition can do. Tor suffers from claustrophobia (making him difficult to contain) and low self-esteem. He's much improved, but still a handful.

He is, however, an excellent working dog. He's great with any animal I put him with.

Ursa the Caucasian Ovtcharka

Ursa is our Grand Dame and primary (vocal) backup. She's 11, and thinks belly rubs are more fun than photo posing. Ursa is from Boston, where she was the ultimate city dog - familiar with transit systems and busy streets. It took her awhile to adjust to farm life, but now she considers herself an integral part of farm security. She still loves car rides.

Working Dogs - Charlie

In charge of security, predator control, and farm oversight is Charlie the Great Pyrenees.

Here he's enjoying the view in Ken Stallcup's picture "Charlie's Mountain".

Charlie guarded at least 2 farms before he came here. Although he was charged with chicken-killing, here he is reliable with day-old chicks (and everything else!)

Ravenwood

Ravenwood. My small piece of the world, on a ridge overlooking southwest Washington, Mount St Helens and the south Cascades. I live here with a small flock of sheep and goats, a donkey, various birds, and dogs.

Winter went out with a flurry of snow. Each season seems to bring its own delightful views.

This is my first year here, and I wake up every morning wondering what this day will bring.

Jesse and Hanna

Jesse is my constant-companion Samoyed. He likes to hang with the big dogs, but agreed to pose with Hannah. Hannah-the-Border-Collie is friendly, intense and single minded. She took charge of Berna the ASD when Berna arrived at 5 months old.

Spring Fancies

This morning the world was white with frost, and I feared I wouldn't get a chance to do the gardening I've been itching to do. The sun came blazing up, warming the earth and vaporizing the frost, causing wispy tendrils of white to rise into fog which rose into low clouds. Soon the fog dissipated and the world became bright and warm. I got my barrow of compost, plants and tools and headed to the burgeoning wind break I'm trying to establish.

As I was digging I heard a loud, high buzzing. Looking up I saw a tiny hummingbird. I barely had time to wonder what type when he turned, and a bright red throat glinted in the sun. He was sipping from the pink salmon berry flowers, thus saving them from being cleared out. Nearby a wren flicked its tail and sang a greeting.

I was just patting the soil around my new plants when I glanced up and saw an eagle circling high. I moved to get a better view and saw the other 3 members of the family. One huge bald eagle, white head and tail glowing in the sun and three smaller, more active birds. If the others had white I couldn't see it. This is the third time I've seen the older bird, so I'm sure they've moved in to the neighborhood.

To cap off my wildlife encounters, a huge bumblebee was nibbling on a piece of mango skin in the compost. He was so fat and had so much pollen attached to his body I don't think he could still fly. While I watched he went through a complete cleaning, and seemed to realign his pollen load. I left him to his work, and went traipsing into the woods to the west.

These woods border on a piece of property I am hoping a friend of mine will buy, so I was "scooping it out". A great excuse for playing in the woods, following deer and coyote trails. There are some wonderful potential house sites with great views. I didn't make it as far as the road that penetrates that parcel, but had a great time.

My dogs are all loafing in the sun as I eat my lunch, and rest up from my busy morning.

Distant Titan

Mostly I take pictures to the south, towards my sheep field, pond, the valley, and Mount Saint Helens. There is rather a nice view to the east, especially on clear winter mornings. Looking over the dog yard and hay shelter, up the ridge I live on, you can see the Cascade foothills and the top of Mount Rainier. It's a winter bonus. In spring and summer the leaves hide much of the expanse.

Winter Sunrise

Raven Dance

Sometimes things happen that make me realize how much I love where I live.

We've had torrential rains for a few days, it's impossible to be outside without getting soaked (even with an umbrella). Mud is the word of the day at my place. Everyone but the duck (who seems ecstatic) is unhappy. It's easy to fall into wondering why I live here. Then something happens. I saw the most wonderful thing yesterday morning.

There are 2 pairs of ravens who live in this area. Yesterday morning as I was about to get in my van to go to work I glanced up. The ravens were putting on an aerial display - a Raven Dance.

Each of the pairs was flying together, wing-beats matching, diving, turning, swooping. Twice one bird flew upside down under the other - only for a second, but heart-stopping in its beauty and in the implications. Besides these individual patterns, the two pairs interacted, crossing paths, changing partners briefly, making lovely patterns in the sky. The entire dance looked choreographed, and seemed to take up the whole sky.

I must have watched for 10 minutes, until they swooped beyond my vision and I made myself go to work. I had tears in my eyes, and felt blessed by the raven gods.

Morning Fog

 

Patrolling the fence line

Charlie on his morning rounds, sniffing and marking, and enjoying the cold, rain-free morning.









Jesse watches Charlie checking the south fence.

Continuing on his mission, Charlie ensures his world is safe for sheep.

Frosty Morn

After a winter of endless rain and wind, February brought some very cold, clear and frosty mornings.

How Do We Get In There?

Boundary Watch

Berna and Jesse taking a turn at keeping the world safe.

 

A Break in the Rain

Christmas Spirit

This is MY present! Go open your own!

Australian Tile Painting

My present.

 

My Mother's Present

Sudden Storm

I was just reading email when there was a very bright flash of light coming through the bedroom door. I had barely enough time to look at the spot and start to wonder what it was when KAA BOOM! Oh, lightening. Unusual, around here, to have it so close. The next lightening was maybe 3 minutes later, with thunder many seconds after, so it was moving away quickly. The only thing left, it seems, is the rain.

Weird.

Battle of the Skies

The clouds have finally blown in, and are taking over the sky. An advancing army of clouds, following the wind scouts. Once they've secured the area, the rain will fall.

Mt. St. Helens sent up a plume of steam in protest before being enveloped by white and gray clouds.

Mt. Rainier has gone from a shining white presence to a violet-blue background. I can hear the distant drums behind the roar of the wind. The clouds are meeting no resistance.

Hopefully with the clouds and rain in control, it will also warm up.

A good day to be inside drinking gluhwein.

Wind

I feel like we are under siege by the wind gods. Last night I thought Hawai'i might be headed our direction, but today the winds have changed from the southwest to the southeast. Might explain why it isn't getting much warmer.

Our rather rare windstorms rarely last more than a few hours. This one started last night, maybe around 7 PM, and is still going strong. Very strong. A few small trees have come down, only one of my recently planted bamboos has been uprooted so far. Not sure how they are going to survive first freezing then drying wind. So far none of my structures (like canvas carports) has succumbed, but the winds are persistent.

Charlie is out with the sheep, keeping the world safe. He came in for awhile, but then felt he was needed elsewhere. The other dogs are quite happy to stay in, thank you.

My little lamb-lgd thinks he should be in with us. I had tried him in with the sheep again for a couple days, but he just hangs around wherever a dog is and cries.

The wind is supposed to blow in warm weather, clouds, and rain. So far it is still clear and cold and very, very pretty. Even if I can't open my front door for fear of not getting it shut again.

Coyote Confrontations

It's been foggy for the past couple weeks. Foggy doesn't quite describe it; it's more like we've been living in a cloud bank, with the clouds billowing, rising and falling a few thousand feet at most. Last night I was preparing myself for the dense patch I'd driven into the night before as the road rose into thicker cloud, when I drove into starry blackness. It took a moment to get over the shock of such a long sight distance.

I wasn't alone in my delight. As I was feeding the sheep what sounded like a dozen coyotes started squabbling just beyond the fences. I straightened up to look that direction and a white blur flashed past me. A white blur with a very deep bark. Charlie pushed through the gate to the far pasture, and the coyotes silenced, but another group howled further away and to the south. I heard Ursa, my 11 year old Caucasian Ovtcharka, take up the verbal battle on that side of the farm.

The sheep ate peaceably, but my hackles were up. The closest coyotes yipped on and off, just to let us know they hadn't given up. I made a mental plan to drive back down there to see if I could frighten them off with the car lights - but by the time I finished my chores they had moved on. I could hear Charlie working his way up the hill.

The coyotes serenaded most of the night, but from a distance. Charlie and Ursa barked their boundary in reply: this far and no further. Jesse the Samoyed protected the back yard while Berna the Anatolian protected him. The herding dogs and I curled up in the warm house and slept, knowing the sheep, birds, and house were safe.

This morning the sky is clear and blue, the sun is bright, the ground white with frost. And the dogs are prancing delightedly, having spent a night hard at work.

Morning Drama

The clouds are a dark lid on the world. But it is an ill-fitting lid; to the south one mountain keeps it from sealing tightly. The open area glows gently white in a world of darkness, then turns a deep orange-red. Suddenly it turns gold, and it is obvious this is a living thing, trying to get inside. It reaches tentacles of light inside, refusing to be kept out. I can almost hear the lid rattling against the surrounding hills, although in reality the struggle takes place in silence.

The mountain is surrounded, almost eclipsed by the bright rays as they force their way in the wedge. And then they retreat, perhaps to find an easier lid to loosen. All that remains is a white glow through the slit, but it is enough to lighten the sky, revealing the circle of mountains that hold the cloud-lid tightly to the north and the west.

Only St. Helens stands tall, holding the edge of the lid up with her broken arms. But the light creature has retreated and she looses strength, lowers her arms, and allows the lid to settle around her waist. She will save her strength and try again tomorrow to keep the clouds from sealing out the sun. A bright orb floats into the crack sending a burst of orange rays across the land. It hovers there, peering inside, a bright promise. The lid may hold today, but the sun will persist. This is a silent and solemn promise, delivered before she pulls back the light and moves on.

Starry, Starry Night

The sky is crystal clear. The moon is full. Only the brightest stars are visible, but they shine and twinkle brightly. By 10PM there was frost on the ground; tonight will be our first freeze. The most wonderful thing is that the mountains - both St Helens and Rainier - stand out a glimmering white against the pale blue-black of the sky. I haven't seen either mountain in ages, and now they both appear at night. Fog has settled in some of the valleys, looking like a series of still lakes.

The coyotes are howling in the distance, my dogs bark in response. Some bird makes an eerie sound every 3-4 minutes, until I go out with a flashlight to discover the source, and silence greets my ears. Charlie the Pyr glides silently up beside me, his coat stiff with frost. I see Ursa's tail flagging and she again barks at the coyotes. My old girl is going to happily spend the cold night outside - cold means no rain, and it's the rain that drives her inside. I hear my new rescue dog whining softly in the background.

I wish I had a warm fur coat and could curl up under the stars with Ursa to enjoy a rain-free night, but the cold drives me back inside to my warm house and soft, warm bed.

A good way to start a week.

Missing Hen

My leghorn hen had disappeared about a month ago, and I'd finally decided she must have been nabbed by a raven or a coyote. Then, while Charlie and I were feeding the sheep, I saw her - and her 3 yellow day-old chicks. Charlie went trotting up to them and I had visions of little yellow balls being tossed into the air. He put his big nose up to one of them, then turned to look at me in delight, "Look! Babies!"

Meanwhile momma hen was fluffed up to full round and jumping in his face. He ignored her. He checked out all three chicks, then trotted back out of the field, looking back at me with that same delighted expression. My dear boy. This is the dog I got because he kills chickens. Momma hen followed (or preceded) him out of the field, bouncing in his face. He continued to ignore her. She finally decided he was far enough away to not be a threat, and went back to her yellow puffballs.

About that time my cat went streaking across the field, ignored by all other critters. She doesn't seem to be considered a threat by anyone.

These are the moments that make everything worthwhile.