Taming our North West Territory

Who can remember the Crazy World of Arthur Brown and his song "Fire" from the late 1960's?  A one hit wonder to be sure, only I'm not sure if it was even a hit.  I think I bought the damn album, probably after having one hit too many myself.  Speaking of hits.  And if you view that video, you're probably gonna need a hit yourself.  Probably upside the head with a 2x4.

Supposedly we're having a drought here in Northern California.  The storms we had in February dropped 12 inches of rain at our little farm house over a 4 day period.  And more recently we've received  7.75 inches of rain so far this March.  That's almost 20 inches in the last month and a half.

That puts us at roughly 28 inches for the water year, which runs from October-October.  Average annual rainfall here is around 51 inches, so we're a little over half way there, with hopefully a spring storm or two yet to come.  The drought is not quite as bad here in the Northern California Sierra Nevada foothills as it is, say, in Monterey County, LA County, or the Gobi Desert.  For instance.   

I'd like to think I had something to do with the rain, kinda like a counter balance sort of thing.  In preparation for the drought and wild fire season, I decided to get back to some land clearing.  More specifically, getting rid of all the dead brush and underbrush from around the ground here.  I don't think this property has been cleared up in oh, say, ever.  And as soon as I started all that back breaking work the rain started as well.

I have already cleared quite a bit of the ground; wrangling manzanita, poison oak and blackberry brambles over the last couple years.  A little bit here, a little bit there.  As a matter of fact, when I burned the mess below, which was taken from the opposite side of the drive, I also attacked a blackberry bramble that was about 15x20 feet.  You can see it in the middle photo, just about direct center, back near the drive.  That thorny mess was plowed out with a pair of loppers, sweat and a hell of a lot of sheer determination.

                                    

 And wallah, a so much cleaner look now coming up the drive.  Or going down the drive.  If you've come to visit for instance. 

You all may be wondering, what the heck do I wear when I'm up to my waist and elbows in thorny blackberry and thirty foot long snakes of poison oak?

(Here's a pile just to let you know I ain't  kidding about the poison oak.)

(It's always best to catch the vines dormant.  They're still lethal, but there's less to deal with.)

That's all quarantined poison oak.  I try to keep it separate from the other brush so I know when I'm tossing it on the flames.  I'll get the pile cooking, do a quick wind check, toss the poison oak on and then take a stroll.  Or go to the other burn pile.  (I usually burn two piles at a time.)  I've dealt with at least 10-12 piles of poison oak that size this year so far.  Trunks an inch thick, with the vines wrapping up and around neighboring manzanita and trees 20-30 feet in length.  Yeah, I deal with some poison oak.

So what do I wear when I go swimming in blackberry thorns wrapped in poison oak vines?  Do you care?  Well, I'm certainly not naked, that's for sure!  From the ground up I got a nice, thick pair of socks underneath high top steel toed boots.  Then I have on a pair of Levis baby, denim blue.  A worn T shirt, and then a long sleeved sweat shirt an old firefighting friend gave me over a decade ago when he had a bike shop over in Carson City, NV.

Big Dawg Baby.

My friend ain't at there anymore, he's since moved on.  I probably wouldn't call that number hoping to talk Harleys.  You'll probably get a dry wall contractor and he'll only want to talk about dressing in drag and high heeled shoes.  It never ceases to amaze me.

I have been in the thickest of thick manzanita with that sweatshirt on, and for those of you who don't know, manzanita has hundreds of little nail to pencil-thick off-shoot shards which are hard, sharp, and lethal.  I shred T-shirts, every time.  The sweatshirt, when I get caught up, shreds the manzanita sticks.  It is like wearing Kevlar or impervious armor.  Big Dawg does it all.

My ensemble is completed with a pair of work gloves and a bright yellow ex-firefighter baseball hat.  I try to wear bright when I'm working in the sticks.  It's always easier to spot stuff when it drops in the brush or leaves.  Especially me.

And then when I am done burning or wrangling, I ALWAYS shower with Fels Naptha Soap.  I think there's a link for it somewhere around here.  By the way, please visit my Amazon (and other) links.  It helps pay the bills around here.  Thanks. 

I scrub a dub dub all exposed skin, my face, neck and shoulders especially.  If I've gotten too hot, taken off the sweatshirt and shredded a T (6 shredded so far in the last year, one of which was a favorite SF Giant T.  Damn!  That's why I said worn T up above.  Never again will colors be worn and then shorn!), then I really have to pay attention to my upper torso and arms.  And if I've taken a leak...

So far in 3 years of wrangling poison oak I have only gotten one small case of it on one of my forearms.  And that was no where near a wrangling or burn day.  I think that case was kitty related.

So I have cleared here and there, but I have never touched the NW Territory, which is part of the Lower 40, and no doubt the deepest of the Deep Side.  It's about a quarter of an acre to the left of our drive that's to hell and gone and away from the house.  It also sits right on the main road.

Here's a few before and after shots of what the jungle looked like and what I done!

(That's my long standing wood chip pile sign. I have a standing order with a tree company down the street that they can drop off excess chips any old time.  Now I just need more gumption to spread 'em around!)

                                    

                                     

                                    

The brush was thick,  Thick as a Brick.  There were also about 20 or 600 one to four inch thick pine trees 20 to 30 feet tall flittin around.  Vines of poison oak.  There was also a blackberry bramble around the solo remaining pine tree above, with dead vines arching out of it's thicket like long, menacing octopi arms with razor sharp teeth.

Obviously I left the big oaks and most all the trees and brush along the road side cliff.  That rises from about 1 foot high at our drive to 12 feet high at the fence line.  I want all the root I can get along that embankment.  I also left most of the manzanita, which can be quite artsy, especially when given a chance to branch out.  I also left that solo little pine, which has a lot of room now to grow into a solo BIG pine.

Below you will see my simple tools of the clearing trade.  That's my second pair of loppers, the first pair lasted a couple years until I shattered them on a dead, inch thick branch of manzanita.  This one's only been in service for a couple months and is already war torn and weary.  I already have a back-up just in case.

And that's my little Echo ES310 chain saw with a 14" bar.  Don't need a longer bar, don't want one.  I can slice through any and everything with this as long as the chain is sharp.  If I'm bucking a log that's a couple feet in diameter, I slice down one side, roll the log and complete.  Using a small saw like that saves a heck of a lot of energy over using a heavier one with a longer bar.

My bright orange bucket contains all the necessaries for the chain saw, including bar oil, another chain, fuel, ear and eye protection and other assorted sundries.  Mostly all bright orange, cause I said, when you drop them in the forest they are really hard to find.  Like me.

So away me and that little party went, four to five hour spurts over a three day period amassed enough brush to fill and consume a 1200 square foot house.  At least.  A lot of back breaking work, especially for an old man, but ever the more better for being done.  I'd so much rather burn that stuff on my terms rather than let a wild fire have its way with it all. 

I scheduled the burn around the last rain storm with two burn piles and about 25 piles of brush scattered hither and yawn, most about 15x15 and four feet tall.

Since I have a lot of trees, I have to be selective where I locate a burn.  Besides the laterals I also have to be concerned about the overhead canopy.  Fortunately, once all the crap was cut I was able to situate two close-in locations where I could get the fire cookin.  As it was, the fire ran into the nearby leaves at both locations.  However, I ALWAYS have a charged hose line nearby as well as a 3 gallon water extinguisher.  I went out on a number of "out of control" control burns back in my firefighting days, I don't ever wanna host one.  I let the fire run a little, but kept it corralled, essentially expanding the safe zone.

It took about seven hours to burn all the brush with 2 fires going, but I blasted through.  I couldn't move for three days afterward, but I got her done.  That night rain came to extinguish any leftover ashes, the perfect end to a long burn day.

Before going to press I just finished possibly the last burn of the season on the upper 40.  I had already wrangled out a bunch of dead manzanita,  it just needed to disappear.  And disappear it did.  The ground around here is slowly beginning to look a little park like, AND, it is so much more wild fire safe.

Animal Update

Goldie, our Rooster and his 8 girl harem are all doing fine.  Goldie, however, is barely hanging on in our good graces.  He pecked our Granddaughter the last time she was here, so he's on a real short leash now.  BUT, he finally engaged a few weeks back and actually defended the girls for a change, so I'm a little torn.


I was up here, writing away, when amazingly with windows closed I heard the chicken's distress call.  I flew down the stairs and out on the deck to see what was the matter.  Three of the girls were in one corner of their fenced in yard, shouting like crazy.  Then, as I rapidly approached, a hawk skirted out of the chickens secure area, somehow lifted itself up and through my webbing and then over a 4 foot fence.

Let me back up.  First of all, I leave the hen house door open during daylight hours.  It is locked at night to prevent night predators like raccoons from beheading and dining on my girls, but it is left open during the day so the chickens can come and go as they please.  Get a little exercise.  Chit chat, smoke cigarettes and eat bugs.  That sort of thing.  Since the last hawk attack inside their yard (see Homestead Update at the end of Three Phases of Steve) I thought I had put up enough of a webbed deterrent so that we wouldn't have to worry about hawks anymore.

But I had left open to the sky a small 8x10 fenced in space, which is still inside their main fenced in area but separate from their yard, utilizing horizontal webbing to theoretically cut that space out from the rest of their play area.  Confused?  Me too.  Anyway, it was through the horizontal space that the hawk entered and then tried to leave.  But after the hawk got into the 8x10 space, he stopped on the ground and was leaning up against the fence.  He was giving me the evil eye and snarling (if hawks could snarl), and then I noticed one of his wings was in disarray.  As I quickly tried to think of my next move, Mr. Hawk finally launched and flew hap-haphazardly and slantingly up into a tree about 50 feet away. BTW, all of this, from the top of the stairs to eye contact with the bird, took place in the span of about 20 seconds.  Snap.

Once the threat was gone it was time to ascertain damages.  It was then Goldie emerged and I noticed he was limping.  The other five girls were hiding in the hen house and they were all fine.  Then I noticed there was a slew of Goldie's feathers scattered about.  NO blood, just feathers.  About the only thing I can figure is when the hawk came calling he was greeted by Goldie this time instead of a docile hen.  Although Goldie limped for a couple weeks afterward, I'm pretty certain he did some damage to the wing of that hawk.

I have since completed aerial webbing all across the top of their Chicken Fantasia Land.  Hopefully that and a recent taste of Rooster will keep them hawks at bay.

Lastly, our kitties are doing fine.  Their little bellies are getting bigger, but they are still kitty through and through and a sheer delight for my lovely wife and I.  We are letting them out during the day now, and they are honing their hunting skills on flying insects, kinda like a Dog and Butterlfly.  We can't wait until they are honing their skills on little furry rodents.  

We do have them come in at night.  The kitties, not the rodents.  The kitties MUST come in at night.  Some of the same predators that would dine on our chickens would also dine on our little felines.  They're not quite ready (if ever) to take on a fox, bobcat, coyote or raccoon.  After the sun sets we call their names, and, smart as their little kitten brains are, they usually come scampering to the front porch within a couple minutes.  Bless their little feline hearts.

There's a big, wide world out there for them to explore, a lot of music to radiate within their little cat craniums.  I can't wait to see what they're listening to on a day to day basis.

                    Lily just woke up.  She's listening to a little Tom Jones.                    

                                   
                                          Daisy's still napping.  She's listening to some Byrds.

Wishing everyone out there, especially all my Irish brethren, a grand St. Patrick's Day!  

Manzanita Trail Rails

Before I started the trail rails and before I launched into the multitude of thousands of projects that have been waiting for me since I was idled with Steve's (my right ankle) resurrection (see The Three Phases of Steve), I wanted to make sure he was going to be OK once I started wandering this hilly ground again.  So I got me a pair of these:

I had to get two of them because Steve has a brother.  So whatever I get Steve I've got to get Ed.  Yes, my other ankle is named Ed.  I have no idea why.  Or how.  As you can see, the boots are getting broken in.  They're already wearing the results of a few days worth of manzanita wrangling as well as an all day brush burn.

Anyway, here's Ed and Steve with their new dance shoes on:

These babies are high top AND steel toed.  Steve feels very secure and if I drop a big rock on my foot, more than likely my toes won't break and I'll still be able to dance.  So I got that going for me.  Now I can really go out and kick me some kaboodle!   But probably not too soon.  Steve's still a little painful to waltz around on, especially with those high top dance shoes on, but I can tell he is definitely on the mend.

Ever since the Deep Side Trail was completed, I have wanted to put up some railing along them steep steps that are all part of the trail system.  Prior to Steve going under the knife, I dug me some holes and sunk me some posts.  I decided to go with treated 4x4's for the posts.  I figure they'll outlast me at this point, which is what I want.  I don't want to be revisiting anything I do around here if I can help it.  I bought 3-10 footers and I cut them all in in half for my posts.  I need three for the Deep Side stairs and I need 3 for another set of stairs elsewhere.  I figure 2 feet in the ground is plenty, with roughly 3 feet above.

 

Then I dug me 3 holes along the stair route, one at the top, one in the middle and one at the bottom, all three roughly 2 feet deep.  Give or take.  This isn't rocket science, and if one is a little higher than another so be it.  I think the slope will assuage away any elevation differences to the undiscerning eye.

Then I mixed me up a little concrete.  At this stage of my game I generally use either a 50 pound bag of fence post mix or a 60 pound bag of ready mix.  I'm getting too old to be tossing around a 90 pound bag of concrete.  I can do it, but then I won't be able to walk for 3 days.

That's my trusty red wheel barrow below.  My brother gave that to me for my birthday about 35 years ago, it's still running strong.  It used to be sky blue though.  But what with the sweet salt air of Monterey a decade or so back it started to get a little rusty.  So I lightly sanded it and gave it a new coat of paint, red this time.  I think a red wheel barrow looks classy, even if it's a little war torn and weary.  Plus this way it's easy to find if I leave it out in the elements.  Imagine how hard it would be to find in a meadow if it was painted hay, or alfalfa for instance.

After mixing the concrete to a good consistency, I tossed the post in and then filled the hole with a little concrete.  One 50 pound bag per post.  I leveled them up, and wallah, three little posts in a row, similar to three little monkeys on a bench.  Only different.                                          
                                        

Then I had ankle surgery and sat on my ass for a couple months...sort of.  Prior to sitting on my keester though, I had made the decision to use manzanita as my stair rail.  I got a shi*t ton of it.  I have spent the last couple years clearing the ground around here, primarily of a lot of dried brush, which was primarily manzanita.  I call that wonderful chore "Manzanita Wrangling".  It's almost as fun as barbed wire wrangling.  Tears up my T-shirts just about as much too.  And work gloves.  And body.

As a matter of fact, I am once again hip deep in brush clearing.  If we are in for a drought here in Northern California, I'd rather clear and burn dried vegetation on my terms, not have it burn on a wild fire's terms.  Side note, we're now just at the beginning of a weekend long downpour, expecting about six inches of rain here in the foothills.  Thank you very much.  As soon as I started clearing brush and burning it the rain started to come in.  Apparently it's my own personal form of rain dancing.  But I digress.

I've got a pile of manzanita from clearings past, I mean a pile.  Nice, long sticks from five to ten feet and more.  I meandered on up to the pile and found a couple nice sticks that would be long enough.  They looked kind of like this:

Manzanita's lovely living brick red color rapidly fades to black once the stick is no longer attached to the ground in anyway.  It turns black about as fast as a charcoal briquet turns to ash once it's lit with a cigar.    But it is an extremely hard wood, so I knew it would clean up just fine.  To that end I got busy:

I got out my trusty electric drill, the one I bought a few houses back when I was screwing off a deck.  Yeah, I know.  There's screwing off, which I'm actually quite good at as well, and then there's screwing off a deck.  This happens when you have just about finished the new deck you've just about built.  You generally want to get the all the decking material on the joists toot sweet, so as you align your wood you generally just screw in each end and move on.  Once all the wood is on, then you've got to go back and attach each piece to each joist.  Otherwise, eventually, over time, all hell breaks loose and pigs fly.  So if your joists are 16" apart, and your deck is 20 feet by 20 feet you end up having to insert about four hundred thousand screws.

I basically blew up my little battery powered drill on the 10,000th screw, so I went out and bought a $30 electric drill.  I've had it about a decade now.  One of these days I'll get another battery powered drill, but so far, this little gizmo has suited me just fine. 

I think screws are better to use than nails because nails will many times start popping up after a fashion.  So then you have to either pound them in again or tear some flesh off the bottom of your foot from time to time.  Or you could just screw them in and forget about it.  Save some money on tetanus shots and band aids too.
                                     
Besides the Roto Stripper, I also used my orbital sander.  The Roto Stripper worked well.  I was a little concerned at first because that wheel contains a bunch of wire "needles" that are metal and I thought they might be too rough on the wood.  Not so.  It stripped off the loose bark with ease, and the process left the stick pretty smooth.  I touched it up with the sander.  I didn't want the wood perfectly sanded to a fever pitch, I just wanted most of the knobs and kitches removed.  And of course have the wood relatively smooth.  I probably spent an hour and a half on each stick, which were each 8 to10 feet long.

Once that was done, I applied some penetrating oil.  That's about the only thing that will penetrate a hard wood, a varnish won't.  The sticks did have a number of cracks and I wanted the wood as weather proof as possible to minimize future and more serious cracking.

I put on several coats and let them dry for about a week.  Then it was time to figure out how they were going to lay.  To this end I employed the able assistance of my lovely wife and her keen decorator eye, which extends way beyond simple wall coverings and painted flamingos.  With one of us on each end of the stick we went to the posts and wheedled about.  We raised, we lowered.  We shucked, we jived.  We did the Freddy.  We did the Locomotion.  We did the Cha Cha Cha.  We turned, we burned.

Once our heart rates almost got back to normal, we stopped sweating and we figured out how they would fit best, I marked with chalk how the sticks would lay on the posts.  I also marked a spot for a hole to be drilled in the manzanita.  (The chalk was my lovely wife's idea too.  I started in with a Sharpee, but that ink penetrates the wood.  It's takes a few months to years for the Sharpee ink to wear off.  Chalk was a much better option, thank you my dear.)  Here's the top post:

 Here's the bottom post:

 And here's the middle post where the two sticks will meet:

And here's the chalk dots on the sticks.  I wanted to make sure the holes I drilled would be in the exact right spot since the manzanita was substantially less than even.   Anywhere.  If the hole was drilled anywhere else or in any other direction the stick would not fit as per our delicate positioning.

Then I drilled holes all the way through the manzanita sticks, large enough to allow the 5 inch lag bolts below to pass through and then into the posts.  Drilling a hole all the way through the manzanita made it really easy to attach the stick to the post.  I simply pushed the bolt through the manzanita and ratcheted it on into the post.  If I had tried to simply screw the stick to the post, more than likely the stick would have split.  Plus, since manzanita is so hard it would have probably taken me a century to screw in one rail.  Screw that.

Once the holes were drilled, it was attachment time.  Fortunately all measurements and chalk marks were chill, and the drill was skilled.  I cannot stress the importance of taking one's time when taking measurements, especially when getting into an artsy form of building.  It made this step a snap.

Now, I knew the sticks would be longer than the length I actually needed.  But by attaching them with over runs on each side allowed me to cut them even with the posts for a much cleaner look.  I used my trusty old hand saw to cut them even with the posts.

And when it was all said and done, the rails look like so:

Animal Update

Our Rooster and his harem are all doing fine.  They've been enjoying our recent drought weather, but now that rain has finally come they're got to dust off their version of Angry Birds and hopefully play happily indoors for a while.

The kitty's are fine as well.  My how they have grown though.  No longer cup cakes, they are probably about half their adult size right now at about 6 months of age.  They are still cute as hell.

They are also going outside now from time to time.  We really wanted to wait a little bit longer before letting them out, but these girls are QUICK.  An open door for an instant and they are through.  I mean, all our kitties have always been allowed to go outside.  Yes, we know there are hazards, we've lost some kitties to those hazards over the course of our lives.  But we also feel it's a little living being's right to enjoy the spectacular outdoors.  It's a lot bigger than the indoors and there's a lot more going on.  Plus there's delicacies out there that don't come in a can, like rats, moles, voles, gophers and the like.  And that food comes with a fun chase as well.  Most of the cats we've had have lived very long, happy lives.  We just put our forever top cat Tom to sleep last summer at the age of 18.  He'd been going outside his entire life.

We also have crazy cat Joe, who is now 18 and has been going outside his entire life.  Now, definitely out here in the country it's imperative to get the kitties in at night.    That's when all sorts of nocturnal predators prowl, like fox, bobcat, raccoon, coyote and owls, to name a few.  A small feline would no doubt fit in as a very delectable dish to many of those critters.

The only day light predator I am concerned about right now is a hawk.  We've experience a couple hawk attacks on chickens here and until the kitties are fully grown I will harbor some concern.

But they are very, very fast and agile, these two lovely little demons.  I have never seen kitties move so fast.  I think that comes from the fact they have rough housed, wrestled and chased each other since they were cupcakes.  They seem to be smart, and both will come right away when we call their names.  They are staying fairly close to the house right now, but they do make forays out into the thick to check it all out.  With a little more experience, which they are getting every day, my concern will eventually gravitate towards the hawk should he ever decide to try and dine on one of these little damsels.  He could end up being their dish, some form of Hawk Ragu.

And I bid you adieu.

The Deep Side Trail

Just like the old Chisum Trail was carved from San Anton to Abilene in the late 19th century, The Deep Side Trail was carved up a hillside in Nevada County in the early 21st century.  While the Chisum Trail mostly carried cows and cowboys, The Deep Side Trail mostly carries kids and kaboodles.  The Chisum Trail is no doubt a lot longer, and maybe a little more important to history, but just by judging from it's name, The Deep Side Trail, you can tell it was no less necessary than the old Chisum.  More or less.

The "Deep Side", coined by my lovely and loquacious grand daughter Sophia, is the middle 40 of the property here.  It's located right below the level landing where the house and parking area lie, but there is a sizable twenty foot STEEP embankment to contend with to get there.  Hence the name, the Deep Side.

Why on earth would Sophia want to venture down to the Deep Side?  Well, this last spring when I had Tarzan out to do some tree trimming, I also had him hang some rope for a dandy old swing.  You can read all about those exploits here at Tarzan the Tree Man.

Well, as the Deep Side infers, it was a major endeavor to get down there.  Besides rope, pitons, carabiners, and a machete, you needed a compass just to find your way.  But not any more.  This last summer this old man made the Deep Side just a little more accessible for human beings.  With trusty pick, shovel and bad ankle, away I went and cleared a trail that has a reasonable slope and slices diagonally up the side of the hill, through the bushes and trees.

These shots (above) are looking upward about midway on the trail.

                                     
The shot above is looking up about three quarters of the way down the trail.  The red handle is where the previous photos were taken.  The shot below is looking down from the location in the photo above.  

Confused?

Me too..

Besides this long, slanted, and nicely sloped trail, I also wanted a quicker route.  A route that would essentially head straight up the embankment.  This route would require steps, unless you are a mountain goat.  It also required a lot of picking and digging.  A little dynamite.  A number of cinder blocks.  I just started at the bottom where the trail lies and "stepped" my way on up.

                                    

Trusty tools of the trade.  Pick and shovel.  There's also a level around there somewhere. 

 I go through two pairs of work gloves a year.  Doesn't matter if they're leather or lace. 

Looking up.

Looking down.



Each landing step (area) is actually larger than just the cinder block.  The cinder blocks all act as anchors.  There's compacted loose dirt around them now, but once some rain comes along it'll compact more and turn into a fairly solid clay.  I will also be adding some low ground cover around the steps this spring as well as Rosemary on the hill.  Both will be deep rooting, fast spreading and drought tolerant.  I've done this before in these here hills.

As you can see, the steps and trail must be working since some darling of mine happened upon a Christmas swing.

I have been consternating the rail down this section, as well as another steep stair I have heading to the Upper 40 from the house.  

I had originally thought about doing a manzanita post and rail, but I had been balking because the manzanita post would probably split somewhere down the line and then I would have a huge, pain in the patoot project to contend with.

I'm not getting any younger, and the last thing I'm gonna wanna to do in my late 60's is dig up a failed post (including concrete) and put in another.  Especially on a hillside.  Everything I do around here is done to last.  I don't want to revisit anything if I can help it.

At any rate, I decided to go for treated 4x4 posts.  They'll last.  At least as long as I am here.  As I have been cogitating the rail, a chum of my son's suggested manzanita, which was in my original plan.  Only I got sidetracked by the potential of metal.  I don't know why.  I totally forgot about the manzanita, of which I have a forest of.

If the manzanita rail splits, I can easily replace that.  Without any digging at all.  Plus, it will add that creative dimension I desire.

I have chosen a few lengths (pictured above) from my mountainous Manzanita pile.  I had hoped to work on them and have them complete for this post, but a little ankle surgery got in the way.  There's actually enough to do to them that the Manzanita Trail Rails will be the subject of another post.

Steve, my right ankle, is coming along quite nicely.  I got the green light to get out of the boot yesterday, and now have a few months of physical therapy.  Steve's still pretty swollen and painful, but the doc said the best way to go is to just go.  Damn the torpedo.  Just go.

Raccoon Scat

A local friend bought me a copy of The Laws Field Guide to the Sierra Nevada for my birthday this last September. Thank ya Brother Bill!  It's fabulous, and a must have for anyone living in the Sierra Nevada mountains.  From birds and bats to turds and scats, it's got it all.  There's even information on all the native plants and trees and flowers and bees.  Marmots and varmints, fungi and frogs, as I mentioned, it's got it all.

I'm almost sorry to say, I first turned to the couple of pages on scat.  Living out here in the country there's all sorts of critters and varmints that live in these here hillsides and woods.  One way to tell who or what's been running around in the night is by their tell tale droppings.

Deer are easy, they leave little piles of raisinettes.  Unfortunately they are still leaving them all over the place around here.  My efforts at creating an 8' high U shaped fence around the property and down to the road have failed.  The dang deer are relentlessly persistent, clambering around the fence on the cliff side above the road.  The scent of our fenced off roses draws them like a siren to a sailor.  Or bacon to a rutabaga pie. 

Unfortunately, it looks like I will have to stay with Plan A and build a fence along the front of the property.  Which, of course, will have to include a driveway gate high enough to keep those pesky, abhorrent pests OUT!  Yes, Bambi and her ilk are no friends of ours.  We are very much into horticulture around here, and those dang deer can destroy in seconds what it takes you years to cultivate.  You can read more about my deer efforts here at Bambi Can Eat My Drawers.

Moving off from deer raisins, I have noticed piles of another nature here and there around the property.  A couple times I have noticed a couple large piles underneath two very tall pines.  My suspicion was confirmed, it looks like a black bear spent a night or two in one of our lofty conifer chateaus.  Or at least hung out long enough to well, you know.

There was another pile I have noticed in a couple specific locations.  After identifying it in the book, which posts both pictures and print descriptions, I discovered it was raccoon scat.  Right next to the description were a few other words, in red, that said, Do Not Handle!

Now I'm not really in the habit of randomly picking up poop, but that is good to know.   I mean, there was a raccoon scat pile on the lawn yesterday.  I moved it with a shovel, which is how I usually move animal poop.
But it's a good thing I didn't pick it up.  And then pick my nose.

Why be concerned about raccoon scat?  The reason is simple, the scat contains a parasite called Baylisascaris procyonis.  And that'll eat your brain.

Baylisascaris procyonis is a roundworm nematode, found ubiquitously in raccoons, its larvae migrating in the intermediate hosts causing visceral larva migrans (VLM). Baylisascariasis as the zoonotic infection of humans is rare, though extremely dangerous due to the ability of the parasite's larvae to migrate into brain tissue and cause damage. Concern for human infection has been increasing over the years due to urbanization of rural areas resulting in the increase in proximity and potential human interaction with raccoons.<sup>[1]

I can see it now.  If I hadn't been diligent and looked it up, and then maybe quickly or accidentally came in contact with it by hand, and then happened to touch my mouth, or nose, or ear.  The next thing I'd know, well, would actually probably be nothing since my brain would slowly become the size of a pea.

What a world, what a world.

My next post will probably be the Manzanita Trail Rails, although now that I am on the mend several other projects are calling.  If we are heading into a drought situation here in Northern California, I want to be sure I am as fit as a fiddle fire safe as possible.  To that end there is a little more clearing I'd like to get done before summer.

I also hope to be involved soon with my book's final edit.  "Late Night Letters to the Moon" will hopefully be available on Amazon.com in early spring.  

Time for some rain dancing.</sup>