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.