Our list of things to do grows with each passing day. Over the weekend Pat and I installed much needed rain gutters on the bunkhouse even though it rarely rains, but when it does it's nice to walk out the door without becoming soaked from the waterfall coming off the roof. Next on the list--scraping and painting the bunkhouse as well as caulking all the windows and doors. I only hope winter doesn't arrive too soon or some of these chores will find their way to next year's list.
The signs of seasonal change are everywhere. The parade of bugs change up almost weekly. We are almost finished with the million or so grasshoppers that have taken over every square inch of land along with the thousands of cow birds who feed on them. And once the birds are finished feeding.... Well let's just say, thankfully the house is already white.
Stepping outside into the grass reminds me of a Hitchcock film with literally thousands of grasshoppers leaping into the air with the slightest movement landing in my hair, hopping down the back of my shirt or up my pant leg. The outside of the house, especially the screens, are loaded. There's no point to swatting at them, it only makes them more active. Driving along the gravel driveway requires nerves of steel as hundreds bounce off the windshield; and if I'm forgetful and open the window....bleh!
We can expect another few weeks before the snakes head off to den up for another long winter. The nights are cool, in the 40s, which doesn't bode well for the cold-blooded beast. Our friend, Miller, lives west of town in a hilly and rocky area. He recently told a story of riding his horse one cold winter afternoon to the top of a bluff on the north end of his place. Under the cliff, where snakes often make their dens, he stopped and watched in complete amazement as steam poured out of a rock pile. I could barely listen as he explained how hundreds of snakes pile together generating and sharing enough heat to keep themselves alive through the most horrendously cold winters. Miller had happened across evidence of one such den.
There's a badger wreaking havoc on our south pasture digging enormous holes. I'm not sure if the holes are part of his shelter of if he's digging into existing gopher holes searching for a meal. Regardless of his motives, he's creating a potential hazard for our tractor and horses. Our neighbor, Kathy, says the badger has been digging around her place, too. She's concerned for her more than 300 free-range chickens. The problem with doing away with the pest is that they are nocturnal, and who wants to stay up all night to either shoot it or bag it for relocation.
Speaking of predators, the brand inspector came around on Friday to brand two of our horses. He remarked that a rancher not far from us has killed more than 140 coyotes this summer. Apparently, the coyotes have been bringing down his young livestock and other small animals on his place. It's hard to believe that someone has killed that many animals, especially since they are mostly nocturnal as well.
Pat and I walk our dogs around 8:00 each evening; we walk until all their business is behind them. This way we all get a good nights sleep. For the past few nights we've heard "many" coyote voices yipping in several directions as we make our way down Almosta Road. One night in particular, we stopped under a mostly moonless sky looking at millions of stars while being serenaded in surround sound. The dogs stopped too and looked in each direction the sound came from. I can't help but wonder what the dogs think as they hear this primitive call--are they afraid? Curious? Is there a faint remembrance stirring in their DNA?
Change is definitely in the air--I can see it, hear it, feel it, smell it, and sense it as each day passes from summer into fall. And so it is.
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