Chickening Out

Bad news on the coop front. We just heard from the owners of the farm we're leasing that we can't have chickens. I'm a little bummed, but their explanation was reasonable. Apparently some of the neighbors (who, like us, are on the hill that backs up to the wildlife canyon) tried keeping chickens. The coyotes went absolutely crazy. They came up from the canyon in multiple packs and swarmed the yards at all hours. We already have quite a coyote presence; I can only imagine what would happen if we got chickens. Even though the coop area is well-fenced, it probably wouldn't be the best thing to have several packs of coyotes stalking the property in broad daylight and howling all night.

It's disappointing, but that's the good thing about only leasing the farm. We're learning as we go, and we're not stuck with any of the mistakes. When I buy a farm or ranch, I now know to really assess the predator situation. Lesson No. 1: Don't assume that fencing can solve the problem. I do see the irony here, though. We escaped the confines of cramped and crowded Laguna Beach...where urban chicken coops are allowed. (Don't worry--I'm not pining to move back.)

Owl in the Family

We have some new pets! A family of beautiful owls made their nest atop the chimney of the fireplace in the master bedroom. Despite the downturn in the housing market, this particular perch is highly sought-after. When we first moved in, the chimney was home to a graceful red-tailed hawk. Alas, a gang of crows foreclosed on the nest and sent the hawk packing. The crows bickered loudly among themselves, clanked around in the morning, and squawked into the night.

One night about a month ago, while I was trying to read and wind down before bed, the noisy racket on the roof seemed exceptionally loud. "That's it! I've had it with these crows!" I slammed my book shut, arose from the bed, and pointed to the fireplace. "Turn it on and crank up the gas," I directed the Wrangler, my voice low, slow, and evil, enunciating each syllable.

Wondering what had possessed his animal-loving wife, the same gal who gets upset upon receiving ASPCA mailings with photos of sad puppies, the Wrangler had no intention of toasting any crows. "Hold on, I'll go outside and see what's up."

After about 10 minutes, the Wrangler came storming back. "They're owls! Owls! The crows are gone. The owls are huge and amazing and beautiful! They're flying back and forth from the chimney to the trees and have enormous wingspans! And you were going to turn on the fireplace!" As if on cue, the rooftop racked stopped and we heard a gentle, "Hoot, hoot." I guess everyone is a little noisy on moving day.

I was sheepish indeed. "I really wasn't going to turn on the fireplace."

We love the soft hoot of the owls and watching them dart back and forth in the night sky. We're happy to have them as our upstairs neighbors, although sometimes the hooting does make it a little hard to sleep. I turn on the TV, and they quiet down immediately. They must be like me and enjoy falling asleep to old episodes of Seinfeld.

Born To Pin

I'm always behind the times when it comes to technology or cyberspace. (Do people even use the word "cyberspace" anymore? See what I mean?) For this, I'm unapologetic. My average monthly cell phone usage rarely exceeds 20 minutes--long live the landline! We have one or maybe even two iPads now that I think of it, but it's/they're gathering dust somewhere in a closet. It takes me a couple minutes to send a one-line text and I NEED COMPLETE SILENCE while I do so. I'll never Twitter. And GPS? Seems sneaky. So you get the point. I really should have been born in the 19th century.

Accordingly, please excuse me if I'm a bit late to the game here, but one of the Six-Button Cowgirls just introduced me to Pinterest, and I'm officially hooked. If you're like me and not in the know, there was a good article in the San Francisco Chronicle today that will give you the gist. In short, Pinterest lets us create online idea boards and share our additions. It's a great way to get inspired or simply catalog your own thoughts. I'm so excited to step into the now! I can stop keeping the huge binders of ideas that I've been compiling since the '80s. Yes, the '80s. Binder No. 1, completed at the tender age of nine, is filled with tips from Teen magazine for decorating your locker and bedroom, as well as photos torn from Town & Country magazine depicting glamourous equestrians at their country homes. (I did indeed subscribe to the patrician Town & Country as a middle-class fourth grader living in a banal suburb in the Midwest.)

I'm also a big fan of mood boards, a staple from the Wrangler's ad agency days. He stills brings home black foam core boards for me. I tend to jump from one big idea to another, so to keep me on track, he'll help me find photos to make a mood board about a particular idea, e.g., farms. (I do realize that such pastime is popular with both (a) creative genius ad execs and (b) five-year-olds.) At any rate, I now can create these boards online with just the click of my mouse--no glue, scissors, or magazines required. I don't even have to upload photos. When I see something I like on the web, I just click a "pin" button.

Can't. Stop. Pinning.

No Scrooges Allowed

It's no secret around here that I love Christmas an abnormal amount. I once founded a Christmas Club for ladies who love Christmas, but no one else wanted to meet in the "off season" of January through October. I've been known to unabashedly set up the Christmas village as early as October 1st, and I bake Christmas cookies well into February. And, yes, I've been lobbying for an 18-foot artificial Christmas tree this year.

So what if an 18-foot artificial tree is impractical, cumbersome, and a decorating nightmare? None of these arguments take into account the hours, days, weeks, and even years of sheer Christmas bliss that such a tree surely would bring. I'd curl up in front of the massive tree and doze off on a cozy Sunday afternoon. I'd watch the thousands of white lights twinkle as twilight set in on a chilly December evening. I'd stack festively wrapped packages with enormous bows under the lowest branches. In the spirit of frugality, I'd even forego any Christmas presents for myself. ("Nothing's stopping you from doing any of these things with a 10-foot tree," the Wrangler has noted wryly.) I'm not being profligate; I'd use the tree for years to come. It would be, as they say, an investment piece.

I usually can get the Wrangler on board with some of my more whimsical ideas. Once in a while, though, I can tell that he isn't going to budge. That's when a modern cowgirl has to take matters into her own hands. I figure there's about a 50/50 chance that, should the 18 feet of Christmas glory just happen to show up on our doorstep (a Christmas miracle!), the Wrangler--much like Ebenezer or, say, the Grinch--will see the errors of his ways. Far from grumbling over the logistics of assembling and decorating an 18-foot tree, he'll take a vacation day to string the lights. ("I'm sooo glad you went ahead and got this magical, majestic tree of cheer, tra la," he'll murmur appreciatively.)

But just in case...I suppose I better read that return policy.

Moo!

I've been threatening to get a cow for a while. Goats are fun, and I have no doubt that I'll love having a couple around the farm once I figure out the fencing situation, but I still haven't acquired a taste for goat's milk. I'm currently engrossed in Philip Hasheider's Family Cow Handbook, which has affirmed my belief that this family needs a beautiful, docile, Jersey cow.

Speaking of cows...out here in the country, we stumble upon interesting things all the time. On our way home from lunch today, the Wrangler and I just happened to see a cattle roping competition taking place at one of the many nearby riding stables. I'd never seen a roping event. In Montana we gathered cattle and did some team penning, but neither gathering nor penning involves roping. It was hard to not feel the excitement today, as each pair of riders burst out of the gate and tried to lasso the cow within a matter of seconds. But the sport quickly became difficult to watch because I felt so bad for the poor cows! It also made me wonder about team penning. Even though there are no ropes involved, I'm sure the cows don't like it.

Powerless

Oh sure, it was mildly fun to roast marshmallows by the campfire during the big power outage in San Diego county last week. If I'm being honest, though, the 12 hours without electricity were pretty dull. Now that I'm on the farm, I'm probably slightly more prepared than the average person for a natural disaster. The family could make it a couple weeks without electricity or access to town. But would we want to? Heck no. When the power was out last Thursday night, we were so bored without internet, computers, and lighting sufficient for reading that we went to bed about four hours earlier than usual. Yes, four hours. You can only strum the guitar by the campfire for so long.

As soon as we had power I ran to my computer, went directly to the Lehman's website, and snapped up anything that is powered by solar or hand-crank. In reflecting on some of the more impulsive purchases, I have to admit that I really didn't need a hand-operated cider press. But just think how productive I'll be during the next blackout!

Getting Moto Moving

I'm riding more often now that I'm leasing Moto again. It's wonderful to have something to look forward to several times a week. I don't even mind the commute to the barn, which has tripled since I moved to the farm.

Ah, Moto. Despite his size, I feel safe riding him because he is lazy. Although it's hard to get him going, I'll take a lazy horse over a touchy, spunky horse any day. Of course, his laziness necessitates the discussion of riding aids used to communicate with horses. Natural aids include leg pressure, voice, and hand and seat position. Artificial aids include spurs, whips, and crops (a very short and stiff variation of the whip). Although they sound severe, spurs, whips, and crops are commonly used as corrective tools. On the one hand, I know that it's important, for safety reasons, for the horse to obey and know who is (more or less) in charge. On the other hand, I can't help but think that only exceptional circumstances--such as needed medical attention--justify inflicting even minor pain on an animal. I have a hard enough time thinking about the bit and bridle and the fact that a horse has to tote me around on his poor back!

I don't wear spurs, and I don't use a whip. At my instructor's suggestion, I do carry a crop. Despite squeezing my calves against Moto's sides with all my might, I was having a hard time getting Moto moving. I've found that, even though I don't use it, just carrying the crop helps. Moto can see it out of the corner of his eye.

But the crop probably motivates me more than Moto. I've been told that a little tap of the crop on his shoulder feels like nothing more than a light smack on your bottom--it just lets the horse know that you mean business. Nonetheless, I don't want to use it. But if I can't get Moto moving with my legs, my instructor directs me to give him a tap with the crop. Thus, I put literally all I've got into making him move off my legs alone.

I end each session drenched in sweat and go home to soak my aching ab, thigh, and calf muscles in the tub. It's quite a workout, riding a lazy horse.

Weird Week

It was sort of a weird week on the farm. It began on Sunday night when we awoke to a flash (lightning) and a crash (thunder). First, I've never heard thunder like that in Southern California. Second, the lightning struck something in our grove. It was so close we could feel the energy in the air. Third, we haven't had rain in months, and we don't expect any until November. We're in the middle of wildfire season; I was convinced that the lightning would spark a brush fire in our canyon. I envisioned us running from the flames, with pets and boxes of family photos in tow.

On Monday night, even though it wasn't raining, we were treated to the largest rainbow I've seen. It arched directly over our house, a beacon. The sky turned purple and gold, and the air felt both magical and eerie. I thought we'd have an earthquake for sure.

Tuesday and Wednesday temperatures soared to the triple-digits with Houston-like humidity. This, again, highly unusual for our region.

And then on Thursday afternoon, the lights went out...in all of San Diego county and parts of Orange County and Riverside County and Arizona and Mexico. For a while cell phone towers were down as well. Traffic signals didn't work, turning the Wrangler's usual 40-minute commute into a three-hour nightmare. We scrounged up a campfire dinner of s'mores, brushed our teeth by candlelight, and headed to bed around 9PM--about four hours early. Power was restored at 3AM.

We're almost through Friday and, so far, nothing magical or strange.

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