Tarzan the Tree Man

I thought of a GREAT dinner idea the other night...cookies!  And that way I didn't have to worry about any dessert.  What a time saver!

So I had my tree guy, Tarzan, out the other day, a month or two ago.  I've had him out every year since we moved in.   Even if he accomplished nothing, he is incredibly entertaining to watch.  He swings through the trees with the greatest of ease...

The first year he took down two or three oaks that opened up the space necessary to complete Chicken Fantasia Land.  He also took down three others that were close to house which also opened up enough room to allow me to make Hammock Land.  My lovely wife's fabulous parents gave me a wonderful hammock circa 2004 that I FINALLY have the appropriate room for.  There is room for one that as well as another hammock that a good friend gave me that he purchased for me down in the Yucatan.

 That's the way I swing from trees.

The next year he cleaned up a lot of dead stuff in an area where an old swing set yet exists.  The swing sets actually in pretty good condition, probably been up there at least a decade.  A little grease, a little lightening, it could almost be a little frightening.  

Then just a scant hopping distance laterally across the hill is the old, dilapidated remnants of some form of a tree house.  I have no photo of that at this moment since it will be fully covered in a future post once we start in on a major tree chalet.  I want to wait until our Grandson is old enough to work on it as well, which is yet a couple years away.

Anyway, Tarzan cleaned out a lot of dead limbs up there which of course would have eventually fallen on their own.  But picking and choosing the time of it's plummet is really desired in higher trafficked areas.   Especially when Grandchildren are concerned.  He also took down a few by the garden shack and started in on one of the main front oaks as far as cleaning it up for the upcoming view.

Then he took down the main line all the way, all those scrub oaks and pines along the left side of the frame.  Most of them were impinging on the potential view, and they were going to come down anyway with the landscaping plans I currently have running around my cranium.

That one above was the before, the one below after.  My son-in-law actually took down a few of them when he was earning his lumberjack badge.  Tarzan took down the taller three which had the potential of falling on the propane tank if not fallen properly. 

Future plans call for a row of 3 or 4 (probably) Almond trees, maybe Dogwood, along the left side of the property shown above.  A little spring time color will be a welcome addition down yonder.

This time out Tarzan, AKA Mike, cleaned up the two majestic oaks in front, affording our front covered porch, or veranda, as I prefer to call it, a wonderful western, sunset view.  There were also about eight sprigs of mistletoe in one of the oaks that he trimmed out as well.  Then he took down a medium pine, which ended up being a huge pole in the middle of the view.

                                     

And wallah:

                                    

When we first bought the house, we had no idea there was a view, there were that many trees.  But then, as the story goes, I was sitting on the porch one evening at sunset, and through the branches and leaves I saw all this wonderful red and orange color and began to wonder, "What if?"

That little arched frame between the trees captures the sun setting from November through January, with the sunset moving off towards the north, or right as the months progress into summer, slowly moving back in time so that we have our framed sunsets again for the holidays!

After Tarzan cleaned up those two trees above, he moved off to an even taller one to the right of these.  In this tree, at almost the very freaking top, sat a sprig of mistletoe.  That's about 80-90 feet in the air, doing a little ballet on a four inch diameter branch.  As far as I'm concerned, he's the best in Western Nevada County, and quite reasonable too.  If you know the right people.  If you know what I mean.  If you need a tree guy, gimme a holler, I'm a right person.

If you don't know, beside the fact mistletoe is a celebrated holiday botanical, it is an obligate hemi-parasitic plant in several families in the order Santalales. Say that real fast ten times.  These plants grow attached to and penetrating within the branches of a tree or shrub by a structure called the haustorium, through which they absorb nutrients from the host plant.  If left alone, it will spread and eventually kill it's host.

I did not want this to happen to this tree for a couple reasons.  First of all, it is a grand dame, and one that I want to become even more majestic than it already is.  Second of all, it has a prime branch and prime location for the rope swing of the century!

There is a nice, large branch about thirty feet up that is the swings "host".  To safeguard the limb so that we wouldn't cut off it's circulation and have it fall off in a few years, I ran the rope through a two foot section of two inch diameter black rubber hose.  Then Mike tied it on with a running Bowline knot, so that it will expand with the limb.

And there the rope dangled until I finished the seat and cleaned up the area a little bit.

The rope comes down from the limb in a single run, then goes in one hole, underneath the redwood seat and up the other side.  The seat is two feet wide, and should accommodate even my expanding rear end.   The rope is rated for 5 or 6 thousand pounds, and that should accommodate most mammals, even four legged ones, like a Moose, or a Caribou.  Like if they were your friends, wanted to swing and you lived in Canada.  And maybe drank a lot of beer.  Cause you'd have to drink a lot of beer to want to try and put a freaking moose or caribou in a swing.  What were you thinking?

                                    

It is finished off with a figure eight knot, used in rock climbing quite a bit and one of the strongest around.  I had some difficulty at first, because I had to incorporate the wood into the first portion of the knot.  I'm not great with knots anyway, so what should have taken five minutes took about thirty, but we got her done.  There's an extra 3-4 feet on the end of the rope, all dangled around so you can't really see the beautiful knot. There's still a couple potential minor variables yet, and I don't want to cut the rope until those are resolved.  None are a big deal, and more a preference than anything else.

The seat hangs loose about 3 feet off the ground, and about 8 feet downhill from the trunk of the tree.  But as you bring the swing back uphill it hits the ground just about where it's equal with the trunk.  After that the arch brings it back up.  So, I need to dig out a short strip of dirt down about a foot, or bring the seat up, or both.  But I don't want to raise the seat too much, because that shortens the height at the end.  And we're talking high.  Final peak should be 25-30 feet off the ground, maybe more.

As I said, the tree swing of the century.  I need to figure out some sort of harness for the Grand kids until they're a little older.  This is definitely an E-Ticket ride!

Once the rope was set we moseyed on up to the top of the drive and parking entrance for the grand finale.  There's actually a three tree row of Cedar trees on the low side of the drive below, and I have slowly cut away impinging oaks so that they may flourish and glow. 

You may also notice a medium size Ponderosa Pine in the foreground on the hill side in the photo.  I want this tree to flourish and glow.  However, you may notice a large gray shadow behind it, which are actually two Digger, Gray, or California Foothill Pines.

Their demise has been in my plans for a while, and it was now time.  I didn't want to fall them myself because I was concerned about the Cedar row, two of which were in the Diggers fall path.  So Mike went to work:

                                         
                                         

Timber!

And laid them down perfectly.  He has been out three different times, been to the tippy top of extreme trees, almost every drop with potential ticklish consequences, and has made at least a hundred of 'em around my place.  He has not missed one spot yet.  We've had to tie off some branches and swing them around and down, with me helping on the ground, but otherwise, he flies solo, and quite well.

The ruckus above is all off the drive, but in a big pile on the lower side.  I have fervent hope I can get it all brushed and cleaned up tomorrow.  We'll have at least one more storm before the sun is nigh and I like to do my burns around wet weather.  It would be nice to have all those flammables burned on my terms before summer and the heat sets in.

And now, you can see the Ponderosa has room to grow happy, unfettered and free.  I have also started a row of Lilacs running along the top of the cliff, which runs to the right.  In a couple years that photo above should show a nice 2-4 foot high green hedge, with ample purple and quite fragrant blossoms popping in early spring.  The Hypericum is also doing well along the face of the cliff.  It is starting to take hold, and entire neighborhoods are springing up all over the place.  I will continue to concentrate on those areas, hand watering, supplying nutrients and adding wood chips as well as add new sprigs again this fall.

We met some more of our neighbors the other day.  What a treat!  Some newer neighbors had a "Meet the New Neighbors" Open House, and there was quite a good turn out.  We folks out here in the country can tend to get quite absorbed in our own little worlds, and of course one of the reasons one lives in the country is for a reasonable element of privacy.  You know, being able to pee outdoors just about anywhere and anytime you choose.  Now thats livin.

Fowl Update

Once again, if we ventured into Homonym Land we'd have a grand time with foul, wouldn't we?  The English language is so dang amusing.  Anyway, Goldie and the 8 remaining hens are doing well.  There was a two week period after the vicious hawk that we were only getting 2-4 eggs per day, which is low for our flock.  But after a couple weeks in counseling and recovery they have returned to their regular productivity, averaging 7-8 eggs per day out of an eight hen flock.  Who sez having a Rooster around ain't good for business?

You know, our flock is a health conscious bunch.  They love their salad, which is what I call any green weed I toss over their fence.  See, it's even a tossed salad!  And since I can't let them out anymore to graze the lawn due to the hawk danger, I bring the lawn bag to them.  I dump out the bag, and within seconds they're in there scratching and tearing it all up.  They love their greens! 

So last week went to the feed store to re-up on vittles for the birds.  Lo and behold, there, right in front, in a nice, large, oval cattle bath tub were Guinea Keets.  At half price no less.  So I made me go home with four of them.  The soon-to-be brave explorers, Lewis, Clark, Daniel and Boone are all getting to know each other in a much less crowded environment.

These intrepid little explorers will soon morph into the great and legendary Guinea Fowl, whose pest control prowess is world renowned.  They massacre ticks and other bugs, and also add rodents and reptiles to their diet.  The nice aspect of their foraging prowess is that they don't tear up the landscape when doing so.  Chickens, on the other hand, are worse than the deer and tear everything up they can get into, since they love their greens.

It will be interesting integrating the Guineas into the flock, especially with Goldie.  But once the Guineas are adult, they will pretty much be on their own.  They do not become comatose like chickens once the sun sets, and will roost in trees at night.

They are supposed to be pretty independent, and once adult they may or may not hang out with the flock.  They may or may not even hang around at all.  It is advised that we talk to them a lot now, since the sound of our voice may help keep them around.  To that end, neither my wife or myself will sing for them.  That would be bad and we might scare them away.  We are unabashed music appreciators, not facilitators.

The Guineas are also supposed to be fantastic "watch" birds, warning of any inherit danger to them or the flock, or even if a strange person approaches.  Now if I can train them to attack deer I really might have something going on.

I am formulating some reasonable flock integration plans, which will require another caged, secure area right next to the existing one.  I think I've got the perfect area for this, I just need a little more fencing.  I'll need this area anyway whenever I want to integrate any new hen into the flock.  It is advised to have them in a separate, but attached area for about a couple weeks.

That way the Guineas and Chickens will be within spitting distance of each other for a week or so but they won't be able to establish any blows.  Hopefully they'll just all start telling poultry jokes and cackle a lot, anticipating the moment when they can all hang out together and rub feathers.  I am quite excited about these new little additions to the homestead.  It will be an adventure to be sure, and you can bet I'll keep you all apprised. 

Stalked by a Hawk

Being stalked by a hawk is much different than a hawk stocking, which would look something like this:

It is also much different than being stalked by Tony Hawk, which essentially means you'd be chased around town by a celebrity with a skate board.  Or on a skate board.   Possibly both. 

A real hawk would look something like this:

                                                    

So I've been periodically letting the flock out of their Fantasia Land for more exercise and to work on bug control.  I usually let them out mid afternoon, that way they can't get in too much trouble.  They have a routine of sorts.  Initially when I let them out they scamper down the hill to the lawn area.  If you've never seen a chicken scamper, it's funny as hell.  It's worth it to let them out just to watch them scamper down the hill.  It's the highlight of some of my days, especially when I've been in this here vacuum, conveying to you!  See how glamorous writing can be?

After they carefully pick over the lawn area they start in to a couple large, bricked in planter areas next to the house which essentially have nothing but good dirt in them for now.  If you've done any reading in this blog you'll know I have an ongoing deer problem, which is yet ongoing, and hence, no wonderful blooming plants are yet in the planters.

We do have a half dozen rose bushes in pots behind some deer netting in one box, but other than that it's free range dirt.  They love getting in that and rolling around in it and getting the dirt all over their bad selves.  That's the way they take a bath.  By getting dirty.  I know, it makes no logical sense!  If only human children had it so good.

After they've had appetizers and bathed, they mosey out by the wood pile and shed, and then migrate to the back, eventually ending up on the hillside around Fantasia Land as dusk approaches.  Then, as dusk closes in, they all end up back in their cage, perched up for the night.  I'll mosey up around that time and lock the door for the night, so that (hopefully) no predator will be able to gain entrance.

I always leave their cage door open throughout the day once it's opened in the morning.  Besides offering access to the hen house and nest boxes where the hens lay, it affords them security if they need it. The outer door now remains closed.

The flock currently has more than enough room to live a happy and healthy life within their fenced in coop, which surrounds their secure cage and house.  But getting out is good for them, it's good for the cats, and good for us.  They get to scamper and get exercise, get to hunt and eat bugs and keep the pests, especially ticks, at bay.  A couple times I caught Myrna and Ethel in back of the shed with Tom, the cat, smoking cigarettes, but that's OK.  I'd probably want a smoke too if I'd just eaten fifty-six ticks.

Besides the smokers, the cats and the chickens pretty much leave each other alone.  Tom, the one-eyed Bandito, was curious at first, but now that he's taken a few under his fur he's fine with them all.  Joe, the scaredy cat, watches and hangs out from a reasonably safe distance of fifteen to twenty feet.  They both have a healthy respect for Goldie, the rooster, who always appears quite unconcerned with either one of them.

Saturday, February 23rd, we had some company coming over for dinner.  I had let the flock out that afternoon and had been cooking in the kitchen.  Just about the same time our company arrived, I was opening the utility room side door to toss something in the recycle bin.

I opened the door, and, much to my dismay, I immediately noticed a dead chicken, about three feet from the open door.  Feathers everywhere!  It was one of our Babys, a Buff Orpington, and it had no head.  As I looked for what seemed like a second, I noticed there was another bird on top of the dead one nibbling away.

At first I thought it was another chicken, it's been known to happen.  Things can get quite Darwinian at times in chicken land.  Then the feasting bird turned it's head, about three feet from me, and an evil eyed Mr. Red Tail Hawk cast me a very pissed off look.  I just interrupted his dinner.  Then he turned his head, abruptly flapped his wings and took flight, heading out over the parking area and our company's car, which had just arrived.

I was flabbergasted!  First of all, I figured the chickens were too big to be hauled away by an airborne assault.  Well, I was right on that accord.  Too big to fly away, but not too big to snap it's neck like a twig and then suck its brains out.

To me it seemed to be a difficult location for an aerial assault.  The portion of ground where the assault occurred is in the back of the house, within a ten foot wide, fairly narrow space, RIGHT NEXT TO THE HOUSE.  Maybe he thought he could carry it away but then quickly discovered he could not.  I don't know, but it sure appeared to be brazen to me.

I immediately rounded up the rest of the flock and got them into the fenced in coop.  It amazingly wasn't that hard.  Trying to round up a chicken and get it to go where you want it to is usually like trying to round up a bunch of munchkins at a helium factory.  Or a bunch of helium at a monkey factory.  I know, it gets confusing.

But the flock was all kind of huddled together in back near their coop, actually kind of shocky.  They were aware one of theirs was down, and Goldie, the rooster, had apparently wisely chosen damage control.   He was not going to leave the living, and was docile as a cucumber as my lovely wife and I herded them up the hill and into the coop.

Then I buried our poor, dead, used to be valuable bird.  A laying hen can be worth $30- $40 in these parts.  She was just going to start hitting her egg laying stride for another three or so years.  Might have even laid the golden one.  Who knows?

As dusk approached we noticed Mr. Evil-Eye Red Tail sitting on the tippy top of a pine tree about one hundred feet from the house.  I think he was still hungry.  And pissed off.  He gave me a pretty snide look when I first interrupted his dinner.   He sat up in that tree well into dark, casing the entire scene with his piercing hawk eyes.

The next morning our son came over and I was showing him the scene of crime.  Ole' Evil Eye decided to grace us with his presence with about a twenty foot high overhead fly by.  He was indeed a big, red tailed hawk, with a massive wing span.  He was almost eagle sized.  Or duck sized.  Either one.  You pick.

He circled around and then landed in very tall pine about fifty feet away.  Mr. Red Tail apparently liked the very top of the highest trees.  My son got the pellet rifle out, which ain't the most powerful, but it can bang out 12 shots at about 600 FPS (feet per second) with a fresh canister of C02.  It's reasonably accurate for a distance of two to three hundred feet, and gets used for varmint control.  It can power through a small rodent or bird, but doubtful it would scratch the surface of this mighty raptor.  And it's snappy enough to annoy just about anything.

My son fired a couple shots in Mr. Red Tail's direction.  The first shot made him flap his wings once, the second shot got him ruffled up enough so that took flight, soaring low over the house.  As he flew by, about thirty feet off the deck, he turned his head in my direction and uttered a very snide cry.  Not the piercing, happy cry when two of those glorious creatures are doing a high fly monkey sex act dance in the sky.  Rolls, somersaults and incredible aero acrobatic antics as they happily communicate the splendour in their souls.

No, this was a low, slow, deliberate kind of drawl.  My son and I both thought he said  "Fuck you."  With pure and utter disdain.  And contempt.  With a sneer.  He was pissed and was not afraid to let us know.

Mr. Bad Ass Hawk was around periodically throughout the day.  We noticed him in several pine tree tops, the very tippy top, and then I saw him sliding in very discretely into a thick of leafless oak branches, about twenty feet from the chicken coop.  His color blended so well If I hadn't seen him fly in I never would have seen him on the branch.

He kept flying around, surveying, either looking for his interrupted dinner from the night before or hoping he might get another opportunity.

Goldie and the girls however, were on full alert.  Now kept within their fenced in universe, at the first hint of any trouble they all scampered inside their cage, with most of them inside the attached hen house.  Goldie was at the entrance, ready to give any intruder hell.

I actually think the hawk had been stalking the flock for a couple hours, kind of like the lion hunting in the Savannah, waiting for a young or unhealthy straggler to become separated from the herd.  Or a dumb bird from the flock.

The chickens are usually pretty much together, with Goldie overseeing the group and adding valuable protection.  I am certian the Orpington was all be herself.  If Goldie had been near, I am sure there would have been a hell of a battle.  I don't think the hawk would have wanted any part of Goldie, who is easily twice a hawks size, even Mr. Bad Ass. 

I was concerned about aerial assaults when they were adolescent and a bit smaller, but I figured once they were full size a bird of prey wouldn't be able to haul them away.  I was correct on this, however, they obviously will kill and have a picnic.  Anywhere they damn well please.

The flock will now forever be confined to their Chicken Fantasia Land, the subject of another post somewhere on this here blog.  There's adequate room for a flock of 20 to 25 in there, and I doubt I'll ever get that many.  I do want to get a couple more layers this spring, as well as a couple Guinea Hens, but I doubt I'll ever have more than twenty birds at any one time.

Their Fantasia Land is well protected against both ground and aerial assault, with access to a Def-Com Nine secure type area, with Goldie, the rooster, posted at the entrance.   I also immediately put up their summer time shade tarp, which covers about a third of their open area.  This certainly limits the aerial view, and I sincerely doubt a hawk would venture into that much of an enclosed space, especially with a rooster on hand.

It is there they must reside, I can see no other way.  If that hawk was willing to attack and dine three feet from a structure where humans dwelled imagine what he'd do in an open meadow.  He'd invite all his friends.  My flock would be gone overnight.

It'd be like the rice fields in the morning.  In another life, back in the mid-nineties, I used to commute to the valley from these foothills, passing through rice paddies on one portion of the drive.  It was either that or head straight into small town commute fury, which, believe it or not, can be much more frustrating than the LA Freeway at times.

So one morning, as I was rolling along this two mile portion of road with rice paddies on either side,, minding my own business, I noticed a hawk on the top of a telephone pole.  Then I noticed a hawk on top of the next pole, and the next, and the next, for a total of eighteen in a row.  Those poles were probably less than a hundred yards apart.  I have no idea what they were hunting, but I'm guessing there was a bunch of 'em.  I'm also guessing whatever they were hunting didn't stand much of a chance, not with a squadron of aerial intruders awaiting.  That would be what my front yard would look like if I let my chickens roam.

The girls were initially upset over the entire scene, with egg production falling in half for almost a week.  But they have now recovered, and a couple times this last week we received eight eggs out of eight laying hens.  I think there were nine lizards leaping and seven toads on a surf board too.  What, wrong rhyme?  At any rate, we've got a good, productive bunch of happy girls.

On a side note, as I write this about four weeks after the assault, some friends just stopped by.  They said a big hawk just flew real low over the driveway, like about twelve feet off the flight deck.  He had our cat scampering for cover.  I haven't seen Mr. Bad Ass around for several weeks, but it sure sounds like he dropped by to see if I've let my guard down and there was any easy dinner about.

Not today my friend, you have taught me well.

Clearing The Orchard

This introductory song, Helplessness Blues, by the Fleet Foxes, mentions orchard somewhere along the line in there lyrically, like "If I had an orchard I'd work til I'm sore...", which I have done.  A few days now.   And I just love the harmonies these guys produce.  I was introduced to this song by the legendary San Francisco radio station KFOG, who what which has turned me on to substantial amounts of new, great music over the last twenty or thirty years.  Legendary.

I have this bit of ground down by the county road.  I call it the lower lower forty, just because it's the lowest ground we got.  It's between that parking area I had to dig the culvert for and the county road, to be more specific. 

This last autumn saw a lot of action in that nape of the neck of the woods.  We cut down a total of twenty-two trees, from six inches in diameter to fourteen or so, ranging in height from twenty to forty feet and probably a little more.

My brother in law took down a couple larger oaks when I was still recovering from my Achilles tendon problem.  Then I jumped in when it felt like my Achilles problem felt better.  Which it did.  But fifteen downed trees, four new ones planted, huge brush piles burned, the clearing, wrangling and burning of manzanita and other brush on the upper forty and I am back in the damn walking cast and on pain meds again.  Tra la la.  Lucky me.

Here's the Lower, Lower 40 when we first moved in, thick and lush with scrub pine and oak:

Here's a few more shots as we plowed through with our handy dandy chain saws:

Here's what that brush pile above looked like after a few hours of mondo nuclear warfare.  It was about eight feet tall, fifteen feet wide and forty feet long. 

Live Action.  I wanted this Digger Pine to go a specific way.  It was just tall enough to top out in the road or get hung up in the lower oak, which can get extremely dangerous.  So I tied it off to my car, made my lower, directional cut towards the car, and then just cut about half way through on the top cut on the other side.  Then I turned on the car, put it in drive and proceeded about five feet forward.  She came down right where I wanted her to.

I plan on grooming the existing cedars and planting a few new ones in the bare spots below and turning them into a hedge.  As you can see by the open space, a fairly large oak prevented any further cedar growth both here and a couple other places.  I will be planting about six to eight more cedars to fill the gaps.  I will also be topping the existing ones, and eventually hope to have about a twelve foot high cedar hedge running along this side of the orchard.  This will also take the lower parking area and propane tank out of street view, and provide a sound buffer from the road.

Here's a clearing sequence looking north:

                                        
Both corners of the drive at the road are sporting regalia's of daffodils. Some were planted in 2011, some last November.  Both corners should be alive with dancing yellow daffodils in a few short weeks.

 

And then, splash, hey!  Let's paint in a Honey Crisp Apple Tree at the north end of this row, and wrap it in a little six foot high cage.  There will be three other varieties of apples to join this intrepid adventurer soon.

And looking south:

                                     

I think I'll eventually have either six or eight trees in this upper row, next to the cedar hedge.  The new tree in a cage at the south end of the top row there is a Santa Rosa Plum.

Then there's room for another six or so in a lower row, with that oak kind of in the center.  He was too picturesque, I couldn't take him down.

I also kept one other smaller oak at the far south corner of this 115x50 foot space.  He was right on the top of the embankment, and I decided to leave him there for erosion control.  I will be planting some form of deer resistant hedge along the road embankment as well and then have it curve up towards the cedar hedge where the daffodils grow.  I'm also making this up as I go.

Anchored in the far south west corner is the oldest fruit tree I had in a pot, my Perez Peach.  It is so named because a close friend gave it to me on my 55th birthday.  Three years later he's finally out of the pot and can actually take root on planet earth.

 You'll of course notice the 6' high deer wrapping.  This area will remain unprotected until the hedge gets underway, which will take 3-4 years.  Of course, by that time the fruit trees will be just about tall enough to forgo the cages anyway.   Each tree will have to be individually wrapped for deer protection until then.

I also have another peach in the ground.  I missed the timing for bare root delivery, but I will still hopefully get a few more in the ground this winter.  I plan on having a total of sixteen to eighteen fruit trees, with many other types of fruits to come.  Apricot, cherry, pomegranate, pear, more apple, etc.  Unfortunately, the winters are too cold here to grow citrus without protection here, but I do have a Meyer Lemon I started from seed in the house.   Eventually I'll make a protected home for him somewhere outside, as part of a greater green house extravaganza.  Or shack.  It will amble and ramble in some sort of lovely, ambient fashion.
  
The first and hardest part of this particular operation is done.  I dropped, brushed and bucked about twenty trees myself, ranging from 6-10" in diameter and 20 to 40 feet tall.  One Digger in the corner by the Perez Peach was quite a challenge.

Like the Digger I tied off to my car, this one had the potential of falling into the road, only about twenty feet more so.  He was too far off in the corner to reach by car with the rope, but I tied a rope around him anyway and let it hang.  Just in case.

I made my low, directional cut so that he would drop eastward right along the property and fence line.  Then I started making my upper back cut and got him cut about 3/4 through without movement.  Since the top part was leaning towards the road to begin with, I was concerned about the tree rocking back on the chain saw at any moment.

So, I ran the rope off, squared off on a tree stump and gave a mighty heave ho.  The tree came slowly towards the me and the lower cut, and then rocked back and sat right on my upper back cut.  And it just stayed there, balancing on that thin cut like a fifteen hundred pound hulking gorilla ballerina.

When it first started rocking back I was afraid it was going to drop in the road.  Now, instead. and much to my chagrin, I still had a pretty dangerous situation to contend with.  I had a forty foot tree with all the trimmings essentially just standing there and connected to nothing.  A stiff breeze in any direction could cause it to fall. 

I looked it over and decided further cutting would be too dangerous.  I would do that as a last resort.  Unfortunately, I didn't have any more rope.  Another sixty feet could have reached my car and then no problem.  But I only had fifty, so I had to make that work.

I grabbed the rope, went back to my stump and dug in.  I gave a mighty heave ho, brought it towards me but couldn't snag it and let it slowly rock back.  Then in synch, I gave the mightiest of mighty tug while on the stump back and got the beast suspended momentarily.  I dug my feet in again and gave it my all, finally falling back on my ass as the last tug hit it's mark and the mighty beast fell right along the fence and manzanita line, right where I wanted it to.  Touchdown! And I wonder where I might have re-injured my ankle?

Now that all the lumber is down and there is no fear of falling behemoths smashing fragile new plantings, I have the rest of my life to dial it all in.  Actually, all the fruit trees will be in no later than next January, 2014.

There's still plenty of work and clean up to do.  I've got to bring up about a cord of already bucked oak for next year's heat, and all stumps will eventually come out.  I've also got to take out a few existing bushes.  Some of the native plants will stay, but some will need to go.  And get a hedge started. 

I've got a water spigot about ten feet away from the cedar hedge, so it won't be a big deal to get irrigation down to the orchard.  That will be a spring time chore, as well as more deer fencing.  And dialing in another area in the back of the house, which will be major.  Minor excavation, minor construction, concrete, lawn etc.  I'm sure you'll hear all about it.  Once the Achilles heals. 

Chicken Update

Goldie and his Harem are doing fine.  We've been averaging about six eggs a day out of nine layers, which I understand is pretty good since most layers slow down a bit in the winter.  They all perch up in the outside cage, even when the night time temps have gotten down to 27-28 degrees.  They have a nice, insulated mansion, replete with perches, yet they all have chosen to stay out all night.  Party animals.

They are a mixed heavy breed bag, good layers and less susceptible to cold than other breeds.  That was one reason I bought that variety, but I still would have thought they'd mosey inside when the temperature got below freezing.  I guess a layer of thick feathers will keep tails warm all winter.

Culvert City

There's Culver City, a city in Western Los Angeles County, famed for really nothing yet who's city history is packed solid with almost entertaining information.  Culver City calls itself the Heart of Screen Land, and since it was the home to MGM Studios back when and is currently home to Sony Pictures Entertainment as well as the NFL Network Studios I guess its got a little bit of screen.  Maybe not as much as Hollywood, or Burbank, but it's definitely got some screen.

And then there's my very own Culvert City, which shall hopefully never become famous or packed solid with anything, especially anything solid.

You see, I got this situation.  Our driveway curves up from the county road, often at a pretty steep clip, because we, like, live on a hill.  It's about six hundred feet long, with one main curve coming up to the house.  This top portion (leading up to the house) drains quite nicely along the right side and keeps going almost straight ahead beyond the turn.  It then dumps into a little seasonal arroyo, or wash that lays between us and our neighbor.   

That little drainage ditch along the right side there also handles all the wash down from "The Red Riffs of Rover", as well as all the water that dumps from our upper hillside onto our back yard.  It gets flowing pretty good when it's raining hard.  Like, for instance, if you happened to be a little cartoon rat, like  Ratatouille , and happened to be scurrying down the embankment in the middle of a downpour because you were being chased by 101 Dalmatians, you could jump on a piece of bark and use it as a raft and quickly evade your provocateurs.  Trouble is, after this whoosh of a rapid you'd be dumped Victoria Falls style into a ravine with even more raging water, and then subsequently get dumped into the street.  Where, if it took you a few moments to catch your breath, you'd probably be run over by a car.

I think the moral of the story, best not to be a furry little rat. 

There's both rock, concrete and asphalt reinforcement along the left-hand side of the ditch where it meets the road.  Homeboy, the previous owner, had some of that going on when we arrived.  But a couple areas of the drive, both on this section and the lower straightaway have received serious patchwork where he (homeboy) let things slide, quite literally.  Since those areas have been patched, I have been very diligent about drainage.  This section gets a look-see every summer and gets patched where necessary.  

The rest of the water from above us and our immediate yard eventually dumps down onto the hillside below our house and lawn area, some of which flows into another drainage ditch which runs along the left side portion of the drive below.

This, too, flows quite nicely now when it rains, like the Rio Grande where it flows through much of the lower border between the United States and Mexico.   But if there weren't a bridge on El Paso Street in El Paso, Texas, another All Time Greatest Hit by Marty Robbins, it might look a lot like this:

El Paso Street that is.

As you can see, our propane tank's access was getting compromised, and this is also a nice, level, lower parking area for when things get really out of hand up above, which they do from time to time. 

That big rain we had a month or so ago really helped dig the channel, but enough was getting to be too much, so I capitulated and got out the old pick and trusty trench shovel.

I had to dig down another three to four inches.  I was happy it was only that much because the gravel had been pretty well compacted over time and it was tough digging.  But it only took an hour or so, a little huff and puff and I got the channel wide enough and deep enough to accommodate three inch flex drain pipe.  If this had been the Rio Grande I probably would have needed some metal and a lot of other stuff to make this thing happen.  A few workers.  More money.

A little skip to ma loo my darling later and it was all covered up and ready for travel.  I also made an erosion proof entry point for the water at the top.

I originaly put a medium mesh screen in there, which I soon discovered was a way bad idea.  Way bad.  All kinds of small leaves and twigs were getting trapped there and it didn't take long before it was fully plugged.  Like about ten minutes.  After the second time it clogged I removed the screen and let her rip.  The force of the water is plenty enough to carry all the smaller debris through.  The pipe is now channeled alongside the concrete drive and all this water drains directly onto the county road.

Prior to this there were two places running through the soon to be orchard (next post) that drain onto the road.  There is significant erosion at these two spots, as well as where the arroyo meets the road.  The county has already been by with a dozer to remove the mud that had sloughed off onto the road. 

Deer Redux and the Lucky Horseshoe

I have been continuing my ongoing battle with those flea ridden parasites, you know Bambi and her dang brothers.  I had to cut and clear a number of trees on the south side first, and then I have completed both the lower portion of fence as well as the manzanita elevated barbed wire all the way down to the road.  The embankment there is a sheer fourteen feet.  No deer's going that high. 

You can barely make out the barbed wire at the top, which runs along at approximately eight feet.

I have also fenced the top (east) and north sides with four foot fencing up against the manzanita all the way to the road, where the embankment is a sheer twelve feet.  This section of the land is thick with manzanita, and when thickened with dead manzanita I cleared from my land I figured it would be impenetrable to those rascals.  But they found their way through, until now!

I had originally put up six foot deer netting along this section, but they laughed as they sashayed on through.  They can't jump over or through the manzanita, they duck their heads and maze their way through.  Let's see them maze through some metal, and eventually thick native blackberry bush, which is the next step in my security evolution.

The land is already fenced along the top at an eight foot level, so I have now effectively made a fenced horseshoe on our land.   I had originally not planned on altering their route, but after they actually started coming up four steps to our wrapped front porch and dining on some very special what I thought were protected plants, I have decided to hell with them. With a little luck, this may hold them.  They don't bother the folks across the county road, as a matter of fact one neighbor sports bright, cheerful, colorful flowers in their unprotected yard every spring and summer.  

There's a donkey across the street too.  Goats, a few dogs  The deer skirt way around in back of the three or four parcels directly across the street from us.  They have been crossing the road and coming through our property.  And dining on our delicacies.  Now there's eight foot high metal in their way.   

I am hoping, as a natural course of events that they simply alter their route.  There is a very large parcel of land on top to our east, and ample room to trample where they may and where the homeowner cares not for botanicals.  With a little luck, we may be able to finally add some splashes of color around the yard.  We'll keep you posted!