Farm News 11-26-06

Sunday morning, after chores
Oh, my! I forgot to mail Farm News this morning.


Bunnies!


Suzette produced nine little bunnies Saturday night, just in time to make the news. Cupping both hands together, it is possible to pile in five bunnies. They wiggle and squirm a lot but make no noise. In a week they will be moving around quite a bit in the nest box. At ten days their eyes open.




Thanksgiving


Our feast is nothing compared to that of the chickens. They receive buckets of garbage with a joyous celebration of their good fortune.

Neighborhood Networks


I've been busy recently working on Neighborhood Networks. All us poor country folk are living out here, often in squalid, near-poverty conditions, without the benefits of modern society, such as the internet. Well, by golly, I'm going to fix the internet part that, and then some.

A Neighborhood Network is a 'sub-internet' for a neighborhood. It acts just like the big internet, and it also has special services that are not available to the rest of the internet. And, the Neighborhood Network is owned by the people who use it, the people of a neighborhood.


A Neighborhood Network is a collection of hardware, software, and communications links that provides the members of a neighborhood both internet access and membership based services. These networks make use of wireless links, allowing the members to access the network not only from their homes but from their cars, trucks, boats, and motorcycles.

The Neighborhood Network is more than just a high speed connection to the internet, it is also an even higher speed connection between neighbors. Because only members can access certain network services it is possible to offer those services without the dangers of penetration by internet vandals.

A server, the property of the neighborhood association, provides POP email addresses of the sort resident@ LakeSideHills.org, hosts web pages for members, operates a neighborhood bulletin board, and has both solitary and group games online.

Chat Rooms serve a need to communicate with each other. Many people use Yahoo! and MSN chat and messenger services. The Neighborhood Network Server has a chat server, customized to the community, and client software that works with Yahoo!, MSN, ICQ, and most other chat systems. Additionally, it provides high quality voice and video connections inside the neighborhood.

The network has game servers online, also. Bridge tournaments, poker games, board games like chess and checkers, and dozens of other games are available. The game center is not restricted to residents, although an invitation from a resident is necessary to join a game.


Children's content can be selected and filtered at the neighborhood server, before it is sent to your home. The children's chat areas can be blocked from general internet traffic. Interactive games for children are available from the neighborhood server, and all of it can be selected by the neighborhood.


A bulletin board is on the server, an easy way to publish announcements and items for sale. Notes on the bulletin board can carry links to pictures in the photo album on the server.


Several optional services are being considered. One is a local weather station connected to the server to provide current local conditions. For seniors, wakeup circles are often appreciated. A wakeup circle is a calling circle that insures that each member is awake and moving about each morning.

Farm News 11-19-06

Sunday morning, after chores, 33°

Sunset on the 777

The 777 is a ranch in the Flint Hills covering about 4,700 acres. A township road, Battle Creek Road, runs through the 777. Within the 777 the township road is through open range: there are no fences between the cars and the livestock. At the 777 most of the livestock seem to be horses, thousands of horses. It began with a cattle guard across the road and a sign that said, “Private Property,” but didn't say to keep out.

A cattle guard for those of you who might not have seen one, is a gateway that allows cars through but not cattle. Click on it to see the wikipedia entry.

The two old fools who live at the Hawthorne Ranch had been engaging their normal sorts of adventures: while one of them was in the hospital having a kidney stone removed the other was receiving some serious dog bite injuries as a result of interfering in a dog fight. Another person, who has also known them for years, couldn't believe that they could put themselves into that many pickles at the same time, and insisted we drive down to see if they were still alive. They were, so we laughed at them and left.

Heading for home, we decided to take a shortcut across to Cassoday, where we would enter the Kansas Turnpike at dusk. We went north from the Hawthorne Ranch about ¾ mile to Road 100, a county road, I think, where we turned west. We made it across the low-water bridge easily enough, there was no water in sight, and we kept on west over the slight rise between the east and west forks of Fall River. There was a bridge across the west fork, which we crossed, and then we turned around and recrossed it. Shortly east of the bridge a road branches off to the north.

Now, it helps to understand that the road we started on has signs saying it is J-50, is called Township Road 45 by Google Earth, and is unnamed in the DeLorme Kansas Atlas. Navigation is more of an art than science under such circumstances. Nevertheless, we took the unnamed branch to the north, which Google Earth identifies as Township Road 39. Road 39, or whatever it is, works its way north and west up the narrow but fertile valley of the west fork of Fall River.

The oaks were wonderful. Some of this country must look much as it did three hundred years ago. Gently rolling grassy hills with enormous oak and walnut trees scattered about, a prairie savannah. This is the kind of country where humans first learned to walk upright. It's the sort of place where humans can live well, and it looks good to us. There were very few houses, but we passed quite a few abandoned silos. Each silo marks a former farm site, now back to grass with no other sign of former occupation. Beneath the grass though, one can find stone points, signs of an even earlier occupation.

The sides of the valley sloped up steeply from the level bottom land, stepped up over some ledges of limestone, and then leveled out about 200' above the valley floor to form long, flat, uplands. As we came up the valley the north wall became very flat and straight for a half mile or so. It was the top of the Otis Creek Dam, which holds back Otis Creek Reservoir, a nice farm pond several miles long. We looked it over from the dam but didn't see anything exciting.

We continued to follow the road north and west along the river, and finally came to a 'Y' junction. We took the branch to the right and crossed a cattle guard into a pasture. The end posts of the fence at the cattle guard were braced with big blocks of limestone and the cattle guard itself was freshly painted bright orange. The only thing missing was a pot of petunias.

The road changed from the ordinary township road with grass growing down to the center, to a very nicely graveled and maintained road. To our right was a sign that said, “Private Property,” and then there were horses. This was the beginning of Battle Creek Road, and an entrance to the 777 Ranch.

We were driving along the smooth uplands of the Flint Hills, rolling across grasslands inhabited by horses, wild American Mustangs. Occasionally, we would come to cattle guard marking the intersection of a fence and the road, always trim, clean, freshly painted, and neat. Once, in a large fenced off area, with four or five roads leading into it, we found a long row of pole sheds filled with large square bales of hay. All those horses will eat a lot of hay in a Kansas winter.

I figured we were in a product of Arab oil money. Of the various nomadic people who have always lived with horses, Arabs are the only ones with the money this place requires. The horses, though, were not Arabians. I decided they must be quarter horses, but I couldn't figure out why anyone would want to keep such ugly brood mares and geldings. I was wrong. The owner is a Kansan, the horses are Mustangs, and, after doing a little internet snooping, I decided that the place might actually show a profit over the decades. Whether it makes money or not, it is beautiful and a credit to the owner's taste.

If you are using Google Earth, search for Otis 'Creek Reservoir Kansas'. About half way up the west side of the lake is an area that appears man made. From this area beside the lake, a road leads west and meets with the road upon which we were driving, best viewed from a zoom of about 1,500'. In the photos currently in Google Earth, the roads are only slightly brighter in color than the outcroppings of limestone around the uplands, which makes it all a little confusing.

Humans seem to be programmed to respond positively to horses. Supposedly, we haven't lived with horses long enough to be genetically imprinted with thinking they're nice, but humans do seem to have a liking for the sight of horses running free. Whether we want to ride them, eat them, or commune with our totem through them, we like them. A few horses standing against the sky, with the first colors of sunset blooming behind them, can have the same effect as the first view of a great painting.

Tessie Apprehends Possums

There are few breeds of dog better for guarding barns than the West Highland White Terrier. 'Westies' know how to do their job. Tessie, our Westie, did her job Wednesday evening when she exposed the hiding place of two possums in the barn. She growled, snarled, bared her worn down old teeth, and waded into them. One by one, she pulled them out of their hiding spot and dragged them to me. I shot them for her.

By herself, Tessie can't injure a possum. Her teeth are worn down too far for her to be a serious threat. What she lacks in teeth, though, she more than makes up for with her ferocity. When she attacks a possum they simply crumple into unconsciousness, nervous systems drowned by her violence.

Given all the dog food they desire, possums can grow rapidly. Tessie's two possums weighed about 20 lbs. each, quite a bit more than Tessie weighs. I'm very glad to end the drain on the dog food supply.

The old girl needs a helper, but I haven't yet found the ideal for her. One criterion I will apply in the future is to look only at females. The head barn guardian needs to be a female. Females tend to stay closer to home and to look after babies. A good barn guardian will even protect baby rabbits.

And now I realize what was missing at the 777. At the hay sheds, there wasn't a dog house with an old Terrier keeping the rats out of the hay.

The Juncos Return

The little gray snow birds, Slate-Colored Juncos, are back. Tuesday morning I looked out the kitchen window and there they were, a dozen or so little gray birds busily searching the ground under the bird feeders for bits of sunflower seeds.

Farm News 11-12-06

Sunday evening, after returning from the Ranch

Farm News is late because I left for the Ranch immediately after chores. More about the trip next week.

Dr. M Reports on the War from New Jersey

Dispatches from the home front

Well, fall is dwindling in New Jersey. The election is over and the yard signs are coming down and we are breathing a sigh of relief and cringing about what could happen in 2008. In more mundane matters, however, I am dealing with mediocre mums.

If fall in New Jersey is defined by anything, it is the brightly colored mums in everyone’s yard. Thus, wanting the yard to be pretty and blend we went to the local garden store and bought mums. Well, it was a disaster. They drooped, they broke, and they were pot bound. And then three weeks later, some of them up and died. A disappointing end to all the effort of planting and caring for them.

So, we come upon the holiday season, and it isn’t going to snow for a while. The mums need to come up because now they are just an eyesore. But what can I put in their place? They’ve stopped manufacturing pink plastic flamingos, so those are out. I just can not bring myself to put a giant blow up Santa snowball type thing in my yard. So what do we do with the yard?

I think I am going to submit to climate and timeframe and simply put some mulch down. The soil will rest over the winter, and in the spring we will see what I can do with the land. Other suggestions will be entertained though!

Dr. M.

Dear Dr. M.,

Seed Johnny-Jump-Ups, Viola tricolor, into the mulch here and there. I did a quick Google with 'viola tricolor'. You can purchase a packet of seeds from Thompson-Morgan, or an ounce from American Meadows. If you want the variety 'Bowles Black', which I highly recommend, you can buy seeds by the gram from Territorial Seed Co. Around here they reseed themselves and last for several years, then something kills them all off and we have to reseed. In late winter, in sheltered corners, little black violets will appear while there is snow all around them.

At this time of the year you can throw seeds around with gay abandon, so to speak, and replace weeds with semi-wild flowers. On the web is a place called Toadshade Wildflower Farm located in New Jersey. Contact them and ask what to plant in your part of New Jersey.

Sow only two or three species, and sow lots of them. In the spring, when the weeds come up, you won't have a dozen different kinds of flower seedlings to recognize among the weeds, just two or three. Weeding is a skill most easily learned when there is only one kind of plant that isn't a weed. Weeding a bean field requires no skill in recognizing weeds, only the skill of recognizing bean plants. Weeding a wildflower bed requires the ability to quickly recognize many different species of desirable plants.

Lloyd Craig, who was my gardening mentor, used to say that if there were weeds blooming in your crop, and you didn't have time to weed it, then it was best to till it under immediately. Weeds become weeds by spreading lots of offspring, and every weed that goes to seed can quickly repopulate a sizable area in which all other weeds of that species were killed. Lloyd didn't always practice what he preached and his garden was about as weedy as most other gardens.

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Farm News 11-05-06

Sunday morning, after chores

A Trip to Quivira

Finally, I made it to Quivira. I've been trying to get out there to take a look at the birds for several weeks. This time, I arrived just after most of the birds had left. Oh, well, I had a good time anyway.

I-70 is sometimes described as the dreariest highway in this part of the country, a reputation that is deserved in some stretches through Missouri. West of Topeka, though, the only dreary part is the number of miles involved. Automobiles help: one hour of driving an automobile on I-70 covers about the same distance a covered wagon would travel in ten days if the weather was good. I entered I-70 in Topeka and headed west. About two days wagon drive west of Topeka the highway lifts into the Flint Hills.

The Flint Hills might have given may travelers their first glimpse of the vastness of the West. This is where the trees stop; from here to the Rocky Mountains trees are found only along waterways and the waterways become more scarce. Without trees, it is possible to see a long way from the top of a hill.

There is a colony of Pronghorn Antelope miles to the south, and a colony of Bison to the north, but I didn't see any of either. Driving through the Flint Hills opens up one view after another of good camping sites. There aren't enough trees to provide firewood for wintering but there are wonderful summer sites: places that are open to breezes but sheltered from strong winds, that have water nearby but not so close there will be mosquitoes, that can be defended from raiders.

Near Salina the highway drops into a series of river valleys until, west of Salina, the Smoky Hills and the West begin. The West begins at US 81 (now partially replaced by I-135). Thus, west of US 81 coyote is pronounced ki-yo-tee, and east of US 81 it is pronounced ki-yote. The most obvious difference between the East and the West is that the rock outcroppings on the hills change from the light tan of the Flint Hills to the rusty red of the Smoky Hills. If you take the cattle away and let the grass grow, it will grow 6' to 8' high in the Flint hills, and 2' to 3' high in the Smoky Hills. The Flint Hills are tall grass prairie, and the Smoky Hills are short grass prairie. Grass is cattle feed, so you seldom find it even 1' tall in either place.

The Smoky Hills appear darker. This is more like the country shown in many cowboy movies: rough terrain with lots of boulders strewn around. Here, though, the boulders are dark, not light, in color. Mule Deer start appearing here, along with the White-Tail Deer. There might be a few antelope about but I haven't seen any.

The eastern side of the Smoky Hills is dark but the western side is bright, chalk bed bright, in fact. The Kansas Geological Survey provides a quick introduction to the geology of the Smoky Hills. Castle Rock, west of where I went on this trip, is an example of a chalk outcrop. Except for bottom land, of which there isn't very much, it is not good country for raising field crops. Cattle are the crop, here.

Ellsworth is one of the old cowtowns. For a while, it was at the end of the railroad, and the herds that had gone to Abilene earlier came to Ellsworth when the rails reached it. When I reached a spot northeast of Ellsworth, I took the exit from I-70 onto KS-156, which hooks around Ellsworth, continues through the Smoky Hills to Holyrood, then down into the sand dunes of the Arkansas River Lowlands. Most of this land is used primarily as cattle pasture with oil production coming in second. Oil wells dot the landscape, a scary thing in sandy country, where spills can easily migrate underground.

There was a construction detour which went through the town itself, instead of hooking around it, as the highway does. Ellsworth looked nice. It was tidy, the streets were clean, lawns mowed, and the children appeared to have been bathed within the past week.

Out of the town, the detour rejoined KS-156, and, enjoying the recently widened highway at the legal limit of 65 mph, I cruised south west through the Smoky Hills to Holyrood. The highway skirts past Holyrood, and I did, also, having no reason to stop there. The countryside smoothed out into the Arkansas Valley.

This is winter wheat country. Brilliant green fields stretch away on both sides of the road, smooth and even. A few of the fields had cattle pasturing on the fall wheat, mostly Angus, although I think Herefords are much more picturesque on the bright green fields. Many of the farmers here are Anabaptists (a term which includes Mennonites, Amish, and Brethren, I think), descended from the German-speaking farm families who left Russia, bringing their seed for hard red winter wheat, to live in Kansas.

Winter wheat is 'drilled', i.e., planted in long rows close together, in the late summer or early fall. It then grows up green to about 8” high. When cold weather arrives it dies down to the crowns of the plants until the weather turns warm again. After that it will grow whenever the soil temperature goes a little over 45°. The rest of Kansas wears a sweater in shades of brown, but the winter wheat fields gleam bright green.

In the spring the wheat fields again turn bright green. Then, as summer approaches, the plants send up longer stems, at the end of which a head of wheat berries will form. Once it has set it's seed, the plant starts to die. When all traces of green are gone and the field is golden in color, the wheat is cut and the wheat berries are separated out.

The land becomes flatter and flatter until, finally, it's so flat there is nowhere for water to go. That's Cheyenne Bottoms. I turned into the preserve, drove the circle around the Big Salt Marsh, and saw nothing but ducks and coots. No waders or shorebirds to be seen. So I left and headed on down south and east to Quivira, my destination.

A few miles outside of Quivira I spotted some flights of Sandhill Cranes, of three to seven birds in each flight. One flight of three Whooping Cranes, a delight to see. However, there were no cranes in Quivira. Nor were there Ibis, Avocets, Stilts, Sandpipers, Swans, or much of anything else save lots of White-Fronted and Snow Geese, and lots of Mallards. There were quite a few species of ducks, actually, and I had a chance to see some new ones.

While driving from one marsh to another, I stopped as a White-Tail doe stepped into the road in front of me. She was plump and sleek, a beautiful animal. Her most notable feature, as she stood there looking at me, was her rump: full, round, and smooth. It made me want to bite her on the butt, after she was roasted for a few hours while being basted with good sauce.

Obviously, the birds had left Quivira before I got there, but I still had a good time. It was a pleasant trip through Kansas, and I turned around and headed for home.