PolliNative

Wrapping 2023 and Welcoming 2024

Pollinator Program Coordinator Shana leads her team of volunteers

When people ask, “How was your holiday season?”, I reply, “Absolutely fantastic.” Not only did I have waves of family and friends, who I love, visit, but I was out with my Southern Sierra Miwuk Nation pollinator family as well. I can think of few ways more precious to spend my time than helping care for our Maala Bwia (Mother Earth) with others who care deeply about our butterfly, bee and plant relatives. I also love to watch Shana, the Pollinator Program Coordinator, work. She is so knowledgeable, organized, a terrific problem solver and hard worker.

In December, I helped her and several other volunteers plant Xerces Society Habitat Kit plants in the Oak Fire burn scar. Shana has collaborated with several property stewards whose land was burned over, and some whose entire homes burned completely, to repopulate the land with native pollinator plants. It was incredible to see the scale of the fire from the ground. We had to dig through layers of ash to plant – giving the natural world just a little head start and hungry life forms, looking for food, a place they can count on. It was also very encouraging to see so many native plants regrown, including oak seedlings sprouting. Like my people, the plants are resilient.

Shana going through plant lists and paperwork with land steward Kathleen

This work is sacred; it is living in reciprocity… giving your time, energy, and attention to supporting the life of others – human, insect, plant, mammal or otherwise – that support you. As Indigenous people, we can feel moved to honor someone for their contributions — and, as a people, we are so talented, creative, resourceful and generous. It was in this context that one of the Pollinator Team members, Trisha, gifted a gorgeous doll to Shana, which Trisha had made. The medicine in the doll was so palpable. Like Shana, the doll is a warrior. Trisha even made a miniature spear of obsidian. Wow.

After taking the photo, I was talking to another volunteer, then turned around to see Trisha extending a doll to me too. I was shocked and so honored that she would gift me such a beautifully made item. The doll she gave to me was a wood gatherer. I love it. She is a powerful piece as well, with her carefully crafted wood bundle on her back, wood wrap on her front and an expertly carved miniature hatchet with a blade of stone on her hip. She is so cool. Thank you Trisha for your thought of me and being moved by the energy we all posses to make things better for our relatives. Aho.

We did this work in December, so gifting was on the mind I suppose. One of my favorite relatives, Pete, surprised me with a gourd canteen gift that he grew and prepared for carrying water. Pete (Mescalero Apache), and his wife Jakki (TX Cherokee), are close friend-family. We are probably even biologically related somewhere. My grandfather told me how Yaquis and Apaches are cousins. I found out later that indeed, my Yaqui people used to hide the children with the Apaches when we were being hunted. Likewise, when the Apaches had their fights, they stored their children with us. How sad that this was necessary, but what a beautiful act to protect one another’s future. Reciprocity again.

It is difficult to express how grateful I was to receive both these gifts; truly, it was overwhelming. Compliments are difficult for me. The work is its own reward. Fortunately, we had a lot of work to do, so I could put the energy from my heart, swollen with joy, into planting. Chiokoe uttesia Pete, in weweria. Thank you Pete, my relative.

The Hilltop Freezes – Finally

We need things to freeze so life can rest. Freezes also help retain balance by eliminating population overages [Think: grasshoppers]. For the last four days, there has been a crystal white coating of frost on the ground. Troughs and baths have a solid shell at the top. My breath has been visible as I go about doing my morning chores. Just a few weeks ago I could still go outside in a tank top for a little bit, but now a large jacket is required attire. The rain has come more frequently, and I am wishing for snow.

Beatrix puzzled by the solid sheet she encounters

With the cold weather, I will admit that I have felt more sluggish – wanting to curl up with a blanket, book and hot cup of tea. Although the pace is slower, there is still work to be done. I have the cross fence going in to protect the California Milkweed. My cattleman’s son, Chaz, is helping me with that. He does great work. I am still planting a few native plants, and doing quite a bit of seeding. I received 10lbs of narrowleaf milkweed seed that I am sowing. I also just received my order of California seed mix for habitats and meadows, which contain native grasses and wildflower. With the rain and easy ground to work, it is a fantastic time to plant seeds.

When my mothers-in-law were visiting for the holidays, it was great. I had an extra set of hands to help. For regular readers of this blog, it will seem as though every guest to my home is put to work. I promise; they are always asking to help. Liz is a wonderful helper too. Every time she visits, she is up for working on laborious tasks. She helped dig two trenches one year for rain catchment. She helped build up brush piles and move wood another time. This time, she helped me plant milkweed seeds. It is not too intense of work, but it does take time to give the seeds a quality head start. Sometimes, you can just broadcast seeds, throw them out in the area you want them to grow. This can work, but does provide easy pickings for birds, and you are just hoping there were more seeds than bird pecks. What Liz and I decided to do was to create a small disturbance in the soil with a rake, toss the seeds in the new furrows, then rake back over the soil in the opposite direction. Using this method, the idea is to cover the seeds with soil, decreasing the possibility of “feeding the birds” primarily and planting seeds secondarily.

We did broadcast milkweed seeds in the arroyo around the rock and log drop structures given that the seeds would fall into deeper spaces between the rock into the soil – those spaces being like a deeper furrow. We chose this area because the rocks will slow runoff, and soil moisture will last longer in these spaces. This should give the milkweed roots more moisture longer to use for growth.

Monitoring

Monitoring the various conservation practices and the general health of the ranch are my favorite activities. Walking the hills, valleys and cliff sides, crossing creeks and breathing in the smells of the Earth bring me happiness. I make sure the guzzler and catchment system are functioning, the rain return in place and that the rock and branch access “ladder” for small creatures is built up to the top. I look at the creek beds and banks for changes, the health of the trees, the clarity and volume of water, what animals are around, pick up any trash that has floated in (by air or water) and take note of anything else that seems interesting.

Wanderings

My garden is continuing to provide gifts despite the cold weather. Tomatoes, peas and arugula make for a wonderful salad in January. We still have small tomatoes beginning to grow. I don’t know how that is possible with all the leaves dropped. The peas are still blooming as well. There were two delicate purple flowers, the beginnings of pea pods. Maala Bwia is also continuing to provide a show of magnificence. Every day I am able to capture gorgeous photos.

We live in such a beautiful place, and on a beautiful planet. Daily, I am very conscious of my good luck. As with Yin and Yang, it compels me to consider the struggle, war, hatred and hard times all over the human world. At the very moment I take a deep breath and smile at seeing the sunset, on the other side of the world a woman my age is exhaling through sobs – sobbing for a life, a person, a land she loved now bombed to oblivion.

Each of us have times of suffering – some more than others. We pray, bargain, make wishes for peace. I know each time I make a wish it is for peace. In truth, peace is a difficult concept, even a fool’s errand. A favorite philosopher, Vine Deloria said “Peace is not possible”, that humans were by nature “violent and greedy”, that what we should aspire to is “respect”. If we understand the innate worth of one another and all things, how is it that we can harm or exploit? This concept was transformative for me as a young person. It aligned with my experiences, the hate that I did not understand, the hate that made me hate, which makes me less of what I could, and should, be.

Like the wood gatherer doll Trisha gave me, I would pick up memories, and experiences that would fuel me, things that I could burn to keep going – the lack of resources of my family, one stick; the desire to contribute to my people, another stick; the need to protect my nature relatives, more sticks. But, there was more – whispers from from my ancestors saying, “Never forget they made your mother go to the back door of the restaurant to purchase food to make her feel like she was nothing.” and, “Never forget they told you, as you stood holding your little brown brother next to you, that you couldn’t swim in the pool, which your parent’s rent money helped pay for.” and, “Always remember that things were taken from you – relatives, knowledge, songs, relationships, language – the things you are crying about when you don’t know why you are crying.” and…

My DNA was built both on the resilience that was necessary because of the hardship, as well as the hardship itself. Inside those helices are where the echos “Never forget” live. And, I do…I do remember everything my grandfather told me, my mother, all my other relatives. It is a warning of what’s possible as much as it is a memory. So, yes, I keep it, but I cannot let it define me. I can’t or else it would consume me. It is the kind of power that converts hate to atrocity. I don’t allow it to kill my potential, my joy, optimism and love. This is why the concept of respect is powerful. Peace is perfection, but respect is achievable. Anger is so deep, what weights it down, keeps it diluted, and allows the light inside to beam, is the knowledge that there is value to the pain and, believe it or not, in those who give it.

Respect. Without it, there would be no end to the fighting, the anger and pain — and that is no way to live. You cannot grow things when you are killing them too.

Light in darkness as the moon rises and shines

Gifts

Gifts come in many forms, and it is often wonderful to receive them. I certainly hope the lovely readers of this blog have had a holiday season filled with pleasant surprises. For me, there have been more than a few thoughtful arrivals in my mailbox and at holiday gatherings. My favorite gifts, however, are not purchased – with the possible exceptions of Milky the Cow and Hoppity Horse when I was 8 years old.

Gift of Purpose

One of my favorite gifts is the opportunity to steward this land. Every day, I consider my time here precious. On Christmas, I was given the gift of being able to plant what (I hope) will be iconic sentinels on the hill – blue oaks. If you are a regular reader, you will know that, last year, I lost two 200 year old oaks from a combination of drought and age, and that their loss tore my heart into a million small pieces.

If you know anything about blue oaks, you know they grow slow. This is why, at least in California, there are rules to protect these majestic beauties from being cut down in a thoughtless moment of caprice. To look at them, to be present within their sphere, is to be transformed. They are majestic with their large size, accommodation of a complex ecosystem and tortuous branches reaching out wide from their trunk decorating the air with smell and statement…this is my place; I am here.

I have attempted to plant blue oaks over the years – acorns carefully placed into the ground, tubes to prevent predation of roots and delicate branches, seedlings in root balls of ancient, dead trees. All were eaten by gophers, stepped on by cows, or never germinated. Now, I am planting seedlings in baskets and protecting them further by an external fence. They will be watered regularly in the first one or two years. Maybe this will work. I have lost years with these set-backs.

Planted oak #2 in flat area near the driveway

There is an urgency because many blue oak woodlands are in decline. Even on my ranch there are few young trees. You can find seedlings in the creek banks and many adults, but there are very few young trees to take the place of the old. How horrible to live in a community with no young. I feel sad for the adult blue oaks with no youth to mentor, to raise and watch grow. I want to be sure there are forests of blue oaks for the young of my species, so together they can breathe, marvel at one another’s beauty and rely on the common sense and decency built into each of us for respect – knowing that we need one another.

Digging 18″ deep in the crumpled former canopy of my beloved late oak tree

Gift of Life

Cattle also provide us gifts, perhaps not of their own free will, but by their lot in life. In this passage, I will be honest with you about our food system. If your heart cannot handle this information or you do not want to be sad at this time of joy, please skip to the next section. I won’t judge you. I get it. Living with it, as I do every day, it is impossible for me to avoid. Having a break can be helpful for the empathic soul.

This Christmas, my heart has been split, one side celebratory of the season and the other focused on a downed cow. While I was gone visiting family, evidently bulls were rough with Cow #253 as they attempted to breed. According to my cattleman, this is not a rare occurrence. Cows can be harmed in the process, and can have injuries. Most convalesce and recover in a brief time. Unfortunately for Cow #253, her injury appears more severe. It has been preventing her from being able to stand. She has been laying near my upper gate for days.

She was not there when I left for a party at a friend’s last week, but she was there when I returned the next day in the evening. Cows bed down at night, and I did not think much of it except that she was by herself – which is not usual. I made a mental note. She was there the next morning still laying down. Very unusual. I had talked to my cattleman several days before. There had been respiratory illness in some of the calves. I thought, maybe she was sick. I took a photo, sent it and called him. He came out that day to take a look and bring some hay to her. She was healthy, but unable to stand – hence the botched breeding theory. He would give her pain meds and other medical help and would wait a few day to see if she would be able to stand.

In my comings and goings, I kept him informed. He came back another couple times I think. Christmas was the first day I have been fully home, and it gave me the opportunity to keep a closer eye on the situation.

I woke early Christmas morning and looked for her. Sadly, she was still there laying nearly helpless on the ground. To my horror, a bull was there too, sniffing her rear and eating the hay that had been brought for her. I put my jacket and boots on, dogs at my side, and strided quickly toward the pair yelling at him to get away from her. He stood his ground, but I was undeterred. She had suffered, presumably due to his clumsy greed, and I would not have that again. He was stubborn, but retreated, remaining in visual contact. As I began to climb back up the hill, he headed back toward her. It was a dance I was uninterested in dancing. I went full force back toward him, yelling, dogs pushing him away. Finally, he surrendered and headed east away from us.

El Toro looks at us longing to return – Not while I am here!

I approached her. Oh my, she was a beauty. Large, healthy coat, big beautiful engaged eyes. My presence was viewed with suspicion. Cows get handled so much in their lives, and these encounters are often painful, such as branding, doctoring or emotionally, when their calves are taken from them to be fattened by another operation then sold to the feedlot before they become food and fiber products. If a cow does not become pregnant within a couple breeding cycles, she herself is sold off to the feedlot and joins her many calves before her as hamburger, steaks, dog chews, shoes and car seats. While there is diversity in the timing, methods, inputs and level of respect, fundamentally, cattle is a business. A cow’s only value is in calve production. That is the honest long and short of it.

So Cow #253 tolerated me. She flinched as I approached her even closer, inspecting her on all sides. I cooed to her, talking sweet and telling her how sorry I was that she was in this situation. How could I help her? I was wishing I had a hoyer lift to help her stand and see what malfunction was hidden underneath. She mooed at me as she tried to stand. Pain? Frustration? I saw how much she was trying and trying to stand, to move from me and continue her life of grazing, and calve raising. But no, she could only drag herself a few feet one direction or another; I could tell by the patterns on the ground, the absence of grass, the splattering of feces. All I could do was keep her company a little at a time, fill her water vessel that the cattlemen had left, but was now empty, and hand her hay that was well out of her reach. I encouraged her every time she tried to stand.

By the end of the day, I was convinced that the only help would come in the form of a bullet. As much as I hoped she would miraculously get better, that nothing was fractured or broken, I began to theorize that those rough bulls crushed part of her. In the business of cattle, there is no financial incentive to heal fractures or breaks. Often, those types of injuries are difficult to heal even if it was desired, and with no guarantee the animal would have a pain-free life. She is less costly dead than putting more time and money into her. This realization, as I texted my cattleman the words “She is still down and is frustrated. It’s been 4 days.”, placed a deep weight in my stomach.

I hear the gunshot. It is done. She is no longer suffering.

Last night, a small group of cows laid near her, and it probably brought her comfort. She is being dragged to the south part of the ranch as I write this – part to spare me the sight and smell of rotting flesh and part to keep things clean for the public lest they see the cost of their beef.

Even though cattle are foreigners on this native landscape, brought as familiar food and fiber by colonizing forces, they are sentient creatures and deserve respect. I love them because they are alive. Cow #253 and I communicated. I tried to meet her needs, to help her; I will mourn her passing. As a person who uses leather products, takes medication with bovine ingredients, and feeds a small amount of beef products to my dogs, I am part of the demand for her meat, bones and skin – and am always grateful for her gifts. After death, her body will nourish countless wildlife – coyotes, vultures, eagles and worms. It will give me a great show in the air, as I watch for who has caught the smell of carrion and dives down to feast. Chiokoe uttesia (Thank you) Cow #253 for feeding my relatives, may you graze peacefully somewhere in the energetic unknown.

Gift of Friendship and Labor

We have had a total of 1.7 inches since Oct 1. There is no standing water, but the springs and creek are still running from the remarkable last rain year. When the rain comes, we are ready. In November, my college best friend and her daughter visited. It was joyous. Among many fun things we did on the ranch, we built up last year’s successful rock check dam hoping for more sediment gain and soil moisture retention. Last year, the benefit was incredible with standing water and flowers in the typically dry arroyo through September. Dry areas 20 feet up stream (above the grass and flowers) and just below the rock check dam told me what I had done worked.

Sediment back up from natural branch dam

Gift of Beauty and Food

The weather is still temperate. Although it has finally gotten cold, there has been no frost on the hilltop. We still have a variety of blooms, one or two butterflies, a small number of bees and tomatoes! Yesterday, I saw a very large painted lady butterfly. A little pink throated hummingbird balanced on the edge of the tomato cage watching me as I filled the cart with water for the downed cow. I was able to see it clearly and had time to observe it closely. It was beautiful. So many small things bring joy.

Gift of Service to Community

In November, I joined the Southern Sierra Miwuk (SSMW) in helping at their cultural burn on the Mariposa Creek Parkway project. I helped Ray Gutierrez start the fire traditionally using air and friction between soft and hard woods. That was exciting! There were many agencies helping and so many friends to catch up with. One of my favorite people of all time, elder Bill Tucker, was there. As usual, he lead me on a hike through some dicey territory looking for grinding stones. We found many. I love him!

The plants we planted the month before looked healthy. I took this opportunity to straighten out the gopher baskets and coir discs. I have also been helping Shana Saucido, the SSMW Pollinator Coordinator, plant the Xerces habitat kits in the Oak Fire burn scar. No photos of this yet, but we still have many plants to plant. I am very grateful for the opportunity to serve my relatives and the local First Nations.

Gift of Knowledge Through Art

November and early December, David and I traveled to Quebec City. There was a powerful exhibit of Indigenous art at the Fine Arts Museum (Musée des Beaux Arts). We don’t take large trips often, but when we do, I always like to learn about the places we go and whatever knowledge First Nations people want to share. The fine art Native people produce is extraordinary and the specific stewardship stories are inspirational.

Gift of Time for Reflection

I have had some very nice blocks of down-time over the holiday season to reflect on this work and what is next. Seventeen monarchs last Fall, more crotch bumble bees than before, enough toads to populate a pond – all from having the right native plants. As long as the plants, butterflies and bees continue to show up, the work will be a success. Shana from the Tribe has taken this project and scaled it up with an effervescence and zeal only possible through a deep love of this work. What a gift for me to see even more habitat installed as yet another Indigenous young woman is inspired by a small but remarkable orange, black and white life. Life is full, wondrous and leaving me thinking about what is next.

Although I am still working out the details on my next step, I will be sure to share it here. One thing is for sure, it will involve a drawing for free t-shirts at the time of the 100th post. More information soon. Thank you for going on this journey with me, for sticking with the project during sad times and joyful. Thanks for reading, providing feedback and encouragement. It is unlike me to share so deeply, but I have found that I learn so much from you when I do. Chiokoe uttesiavu (Thank you all).

Warm November Means More Butterflies, Bees and Blooms

California Hairstreak nectars on a basil flower

It should be much colder than it is. We are in the 70s every day with overnight lows in the 50s. It feels like Southern California weather. The storm that came in overnight was warm with very little actual water. There were only a few drips in the rain gauge – not even enough to make a 1/16th.

Butterflies, a wide variety, continue to visit. Yesterday, we had a large bumble bee and several silver native bees. They were attacking the poor bumble to get it to leave the flower. The bumble persisted though and got its nectar. Fortunately, there is nectar for all these creatures. The basil continues to have flowers, albeit many less. There are pacific asters, california fuchsia, verbena, black-eyed susans, a little bit of tarweed and dove weed left, marigolds (now that the life sucking beetles have moved on), peas, pumpkin, goldenrod, stevia herb, a few arugula, and one sunflower about ready to bloom, believe it or not. Lots to eat, so there is much activity including honeybees and small native bees and pollinating flies.

More Check Dams

We have used the cooler weather to build and shore up more check dams. We had rock and logs left over from the rock and log drop structures we put in last month. Fortunately, I had a very able-bodied and willing friend visiting last week. Jen is a total country girl who lives in a city. She has worked on a variety of natural resources projects including riparian restorations. Lucky me! Jen was able to provide additional guidance on the much more informal installation of the latest check dams. They are my hurried, poor girl’s version of the real thing, but they will work to slow water run-off. Don’t be scared to visit; I don’t put all my friends to work here. Jen was super excited about slinging a pick ax and using the chainsaw. My kind of woman!

While in this section of the ranch, I also checked on the Spring Creek. I opened the gate after a year to the riparian exclusion area to let the cattle graze. The flowers were almost gone, and there was plenty of feed to distract the cows from the oak seedlings. The cockle burrs and thistle were high, grass abounded, and the creek filled with water plants. After just a week with the gate open and only a few pairs (cow calve pairs), the area was grazed well with the thistle and cockle burr stands knocked down. The creek was opened up, and water was more exposed. The oak seedlings were all doing well and brush piles still standing. This is range management – timing grazing where it will do good for both cows and the ecosystem.

Working in Reciprocity

In addition to work on the ranch, I have had other opportunities to expand habitat. The Southern Sierra Miwuk Nation (SSMN) has a wonderful project in partnership with Sierra Foothill Conservancy and the Mariposa Arts Council to restore a large segment of Mariposa Creek in downtown Mariposa. It is a gorgeous section of creek front that had trash and an overgrowth of invasive plants, like Himalayan blackberry. They have cleaned up the property with fire and litter removal to prepare the site for adding back native plants. I appreciate all the work SSMN is doing to be good stewards in keeping with their values, and the opportunity it provides me to give back. This past week was the planting, and I was so excited to participate. Being in community with so many good people and friends is healing. I even got to work with Shana Saucido the Tribe’s new Pollinator Program Coordinator.

One of my favorites: Elder Tuck and his daughter Debbie

I picked up the SSMN’s Xerces habitat kits in Lockeford the other week. I was able to fit all of them in my truck (Whew!). Now Shana has about 1,000 plants to get into the ground! Thanks to Andrew Gliken of Raw Roots Farms for picking up all the hedge row kits the day before. All of it would not have fit without his help!

I also had the honor of being asked to teach at the Oka Uuchum – Ancestral Teachings gathering on native plants and pollinators. I partnered with Deedee Soto from Xerces and Kristie Martin, one of the previous Pollinator Program Coordinators, to provide an hour and a half walk, learn and plant circle. We had one of the largest turnouts of the gathering, and, in reciprocity with the land that was hosting us, we planted a pollinator garden. As I began my portion of the talk, a monarch flew through the crowd. I am not making this up. I almost began to cry and quickly had to compose myself. I said “Amand te tevote base’eboli weweria! Chiokoe uttesia (Acknowledging you butterfly relative. Thank you.)”. We do this work for all relatives, especially the children and the wild creatures. The monarch came through to remind us of its beauty, its importance, its magic – and it is worth fighting for. Keep building habitat y’all!

Gratitudes

The last few weeks have been rough. Everything came to a head. Major projects for work, the ranch and volunteering were all due around the same time, plus life changes in family situations with a cousin, a sister, a parent. On top of all of this, my dear friend Pando passed away. I had been visiting her in her care home since February. I know she was not happy. Almost overnight, she went from alert to dying. It took her almost 4 days to “get her wings” as she would say. As we all know, death is part of the bargain in life. Still, it leaves a hole and moves you to contemplate your own life. What I realized is how happy I am. It is the joy of digging in the dirt, helping the planet in some small way, meeting people with the same love, living in the Sierras, having work with clear and direct purpose, being in love with the person I live with, having people who love me, having animals to care for, and working with people who value my contributions. The media tries to sell you despair, envy, greed, copious consumption; don’t buy it. We each have choices, so choose to make a difference in some small way. Tell someone you love them. Hold hands. Say “yes” to that friend or family member you’ve been rescheduling. Rescue and care for an animal. Plant milkweed and watch it grow.

Butterfly Explosion

If I was in a dream, I would not know the difference. Real life has been unbelievable. There have been so many butterflies here, it is like a multicolor, zigzaggy snow globe. Painted ladies, west coast ladies, white ones, yellow sulfurs, hairstreaks, buckeyes, and so many others. There have even been additional monarch sightings! I’ve not been able to identify all that have fluttered and flitted their way around the plants and around me as I make my way through chores, a large, joyous grin across my face.

Not only butterflies, but bees are still abundant. We are getting european honeybees as well as a variety of native bees. One floated in front of my face today. There are still dragonflies, and a plethora of two types of beetles are eating my garden and flowers. The most fun has to be the toads. All the babies are now full size. When I near the toad pond, I catch a glimpse of pickle-textured eyeballs just above the waterline. They quickly dip back under as I walk by or lean in to get a closer look. The toads are soiling the water into that creamy jade green color. I add fresh rain water daily to try to stay ahead of the muck.

The warmth has continued during the day, even as the overnight temperatures have dipped into the 40s. There are still a myriad of flower blooming – pacific aster, goldenrod, butterfly bush, black-eyed susans, maybe one or two sunflowers, marigolds, tarweed, doveweed, vinegarweed, california fuchsia, verbena, and from my garden, basil, pumpkin and arugula are also bloomed.

Webs have been flying through the air with their cargo of precious spider babies. They land everywhere. Meanwhile, the tarantulas are moving about. There are not as many as last year. I’ve counted 22 so far. I have seen two other very large spiders and captured an image of one of them. The other was a wolf spider – the largest I have seen of that kind – and I have seen some very large ones. Sadly, I did not get a photo of that one. They are really beautiful.

Water is still running on the ranch. Odom Creek has considerable volume and continues to fill the neighbor’s pond. The spring on Spring Creek is continuing to produce, but the water runs only about 100′ before disappearing. Remarkably, the soil area behind the rock check dam is still green. The cows are back and have eaten the vegetation in that area, but it is still moist and producing new shoots of grass.

One of the down-sides of excluding cattle from the riparian areas has been the proliferation of thistle and cockleburrs. While the cows may not eat them, they trample those plants at the start, so they don’t get as good a foothold in the flatter areas. Seeing the cockleburrs up close brought back memories of talks with my grandfather. How he hated cockleburrs. He told me how they would slice into him as he crawled through hedgerows and fields trying to avoid being killed in WWII. It was after he moved from Omaha Beach into the hillsides trying to take out the bunkers that were slaughtering allies on the beach. He said they would stick into him and get into his clothing making him miserable. What a plant.

We had a Fall storm that was 1/2″ in just over an hour. My rainwater tanks filled more allowing me to extend my ability to irrigate as the weather turned hot again. I checked the guzzler, and it worked perfectly, as designed. It also filled that tank more providing fresh water for wildlife to access.

Note the water levels as indicated by the scum line. You can see that the rain filled the tank higher than the most recent scum line, which is below water level. You can also see how high the water once was by the highest scum ring.

The rain in late September was welcome and left the air clear, soil moist and made for dramatic skies.

Pollinator Education Continues

I have been continuing my pollinator education work. I joined members of my Yaqui Tribe at Indigenous People’s Day in Sacramento, where I included pollinator materials and plants at the table. I was also honored to be asked to teach with my pollinator team friends, Kristie and Deedee, at the recent Traditional Lifeways gathering. We discussed native plants, seed collection, medicine and food uses, pollinator relatives and then we had everyone plant native pollinator plants in an area we chose before the event. It was an incredible experience. As I began to speak, a monarch flew through our gathering of people. I nearly lost it. This is exactly why we need to plant as much habitat as possible – to bring back their population from the edge and to ensure that the next generation has the magical experience of seeing this large, bright butterfly as a regular part of their lives. Oh, I also completed my Pollinator Stewardship certification program and passed. The Pollinator Partnership conferred my badge – I am an official Pollinator Steward!

Yaqui relatives bring people around the healing drum

Up Next

This week I will be picking up the Xerces Kits for the Tribe’s Pollinator program and for another farmer here locally, Raw Roots Farm. I shared plants with them last year. They had a profusion of monarchs this year. I am so excited by their work. I am still waiting for clearance to build the cross fence from NRCS. I have my vendor and materials – all I need is NRCS to green light the work. The cross fence is to protect the rare california milkweed stands during caterpillar time. I am also waiting for a grant from Point Blue Roots program to begin my guzzler work. I am placing another one in the back 40 with a rainwater tank and catchment structure. I imagine I will be helping the Tribe’s Pollinator Coordinator plant plants this Fall. So…I am never without stewardship work to do.

Wanderings

Midwife to Monarchs

The last of the monarchs left yesterday. They are born, dry-off, test their wings and then fly away. Green to black to orange, black and white – there is now no color save yellow – yellow grass, yellow tarweed, yellow sunflowers, yellow creek flowers. Yellow is the Fall, a time of maturity, a time of harvest, filling us like a cornucopia. I harvest joy, not crops, from knowing that something as remarkable as a butterfly can exist. My project has matured attracting monarchs at their journey beginning and ending. I have witnessed flights, egg laying, caterpillars large and small, silk spinning, “J” making, chrysalises and births to flights again. I am full. Fall has filled me.

In my life, I never thought I would be a midwife to monarchs. In truth, they don’t need me. They’ve been doing their thing and surviving well without me. Unimpressed with that knowledge, I monitored them daily to ensure their chrysalises were there, their foundations were intact, and that everything was a-ok. When they were born, I watched them even closer to make sure they were able to gain a strong footing.

Glad I was there; monarch #2, the closest chrysalis to the ground, did not have as much space between the tank to which its chrysalis was attached and the retaining wall adjacent to the tank. She rolled out of her chrysalis, then latched to it, then a move to more solid footing, and she fell. I watched her thinking she would find footing, but the space was small and the dried grass too short and flimsy. There she wiggled on her side trying to gain purchase on something, legs grasping at the air hoping to find something to cling to. Quickly, I broke off a stem from a dead sunflower and carefully held it to her, close in her vicinity, but not near her delicate, still wet wings. I did not want to chance an error. She grabbed on, and I hoisted her carefully in the air allowing her to hang her wings toward the ground so they could unfurl, expand and become strong for her impending journey. I was captivated. After my brain was released from the haze of wonder at this magnificent creature only inches from me, I realized that I now “owned” this lifeline I threw for the 3 to 4 hours it takes for the wings to dry. Didn’t think of that when I jumped to the rescue. I stood there, holding this stick with a glistening jewel at its end, contemplating what I could do to ensure her safety, and my relief. I tried to encourage her to step onto the larger dead stick of the sunflower remains. She wouldn’t have it. Fortunately, there was a soil-filled container with moist dirt that made it easy, yet sturdy, for me to plant the stick in, slowly, carefully. It worked. We both were secure.

In total, there were 11 confirmed chrysalises and caterpillars, with some other surprise monarchs I found drying off. If I add in the surprise monarchs, it brings the total to 14.

I tried to watch every birth, learning new things every time, like seeing how the chrysalis elongates two days before birth, the black color the day of birth, and the colors visible minutes before birth. I became a pro, yelling to whomever was around, usually David who was long since over all of this, “It’s going to blow!” David responding, “Cool,” and going about his business – if saying anything at all.

Gorgeous black – the caterpillars body in a transparent case

It never gets old watching the birth of a butterfly. It is a miracle every time. My friend Francisca was over one day when a chrysalis was about to open. She watched, excited like me, camera in hand, at the miracle before us. It is so nice to share this with people who care. The monarchs are great ambassadors.

At the end of the day yesterday, I watched as my final charge alighted. She circled around me well above my head, flitted here, flitted there, then flew off to the south where eventually she will make a turn toward the coast. I worry less about these babies; there is considerable habitat along her route – thanks to a clarion call for “all hands on deck” in planting milkweed and nectar plants from many organizations and individuals. It is your work, your compassion, your money donation turned to milkweed that will keep her path safer than it would have been only two years ago. The route is not without danger – cars, dragonflies, birds, pesticides, condos and golf courses instead of habitat – but there is much more habitat than there was. Thank you reader. Truly, thank you.

Oh good friend, fly high and safe. You will make it to the coast, and I will see you next year in this milkweed patch. Lay your eggs. As you transition your knowledge to the next generation of where you were born and where the good flowers are, feel secure that I will be here, taking care of your children then.

Endings and Beginnings

I watched a late instar caterpillar make its way up a empty branch, the left over defoliated stem of a sunflower eaten to death by the grasshoppers. Good that they did that; it gave a clear path for the caterpillar to make its last crawl up high – a safe location for its transformation. I noticed its head move back and forth, left to right, over and over. A pad of sticky silk getting bigger and bigger. It went about its business like a master weaver – looming, spreading, and then finally creating this foundation for its next stage.

Once the pad was big enough, the caterpillar moved up, twisted around, then down to reverse itself and put its back side into the pad of silk -its crucial last connection to the terrestrial world of plants and stems, leaves broad and narrow. Still clinging to the empty woody stem, it tested its adhesion. The caterpillar seemed to freeze for a while, its beautiful black, yellow and white striped body soft and stuck. The only movement was the light wind blowing the caterpillar’s long black antennae. Birds flew by, chirped, a truck drove by on the dirt road – all oblivious to this one creature’s major moment in life – an end to a beginning. Then, in an instant, it released itself, a final act of resolution, knowing that the only path is forward, a journey to something so radically different.

I don’t know why, but I felt solemn. I wondered if it had a sense that life, as it knew it, was over. I have seen these transitions before. A child who is fearful of the deep end and makes the decision to just jump. A beloved family member who gets the news that there is nothing more that can be done. A dying person whose life force exits as the body begins to shut down. In all cases, life is transformed. Resolve to resignation to relief – then – a breath, and…release.

It is no wonder my Yoeme people and other Indigenous relatives revere monarchs. Their life, transformation and return seen as the spirits of our ancestors who themselves had lives, transformations and now return. The cycle repeats, even as it is interrupted by poisons and habitat loss, the spirit still returns.

I sit there for an hour, in the garden, with mean ol’ ants crawling up my legs, me brushing them away before they can bite. I don’t want to kill them; I am sitting on top of their home. They are oblivious as well to what I feel is a monumental moment. I must watch. I need to hold vigil, to acknowledge, honor and admire this release, this compliance with the inevitable. Now the caterpillar is shifting to its “J” formation. This takes a while. After another hour, the “J” is static, the body stiffens. It swings gently in the breeze waiting for the last of its beautiful striped skin to fall off and reveal its chrysalis where it will be liquefied then reborn.

It is dark now. I have been sitting there for hours. The ants have finally gone to bed; my husband has finally given up trying to get me into the house, and I can fully focus. I feel a vibration deep inside my torso. At first it trickles, then it is louder, my mouth opening wider for the sound waves to move. I am singing. It is involuntary. This transformation must be honored. No matter the size, this life is important. This caterpillar is my relation. We are all related.

Tui tukaria in hala’i. Good night my friend.

Observation Skills

Sometimes I need to check my “Indigenous credentials”. My ancestors relied on the power of detailed observation, and the passing on of that knowledge, for survival. Maybe, in a different time, I would have been a reliable member of a clan. Today, I am evidently a “head in the clouds” version of a Native. For days, I have been accessing water at the tank, filling up watering cans, walking to the raised bed to water and walking back to the tank for another can, not once, not twice but at least 4 times per day. How did I not see the remarkable ornaments right in front of me? My tank has become a Christmas tree of pupae, jade gold dangling from each ledge.

Moreover, how has it been, that as close as I looked, every day, I did not see a caterpillar? I did not see any eaten branches of milkweed. Yet, just today (9/10/2023), like 3-D glasses in a 1950s movie, all of the sudden I see everything. I have found 7 monarch caterpillars – boom – right in front of me — and they are everywhere. In every place there is milkweed, there is at least 3 caterpillars. I have had to update my sighting post at WesternMonarchMilkweedMapper.org four times. It is a joy…well I am overjoyed actually…to be sure, but I really question the quality of my attention span, the commitment of my search, given the recent appearance of my super-vision for seeing pupae and caterpillars.

What will they eat when they emerge? We do have some good nectar for these babies. Hopefully, we will have even more. The grasshoppers really cleaned us out. Although many plants are reemerging, they will likely not make any blooms by the time the babies all mature. I will keep monitoring.

I generally do not interfere in the destiny of the caterpillars. However, we had a swarm of dragonflies on Saturday. I felt I needed to place protective mesh around the plants with caterpillars; they were very exposed. I used an inverted tomato cage and placed a 15-gallon gopher shield over it. I left the bottom unattached to enable the caterpillars to move to another plant if needed. To be truthful, I don’t know if this helps or not. Maybe it is only making me feel better. I have read or heard others tell about how some people cover plants with mesh – not quite as I did – but a similar concept. So far, all caterpillars are present and accounted for and look like they are doing well.

According to Western Monarch Milkweed Mapper, there have been quite a bit of sightings as the monarchs are migrating back to their overwintering sites. I am also hearing from many friends and individuals on social media that they are seeing both adults and caterpillars. Of course, what is on the map is not a comprehensive overview of all sightings. Friend Sean alerted me that iNaturalist also captures data and eventually shares it with the map site. Some people also make their sightings private. Nonetheless, it is a good look at where the butterflies are along their journey. Below is a screenshot of the map from the morning of 9/10/2023.

Map from Western Monarch Milkweed Map as of 9/10/2023 in the morning

Wanderings

There was quite a light show on Saturday and rain earlier in the day. The temps are still warm, and the moist clouds only make it more humid. The garden is growing in these 90+F temperatures – tomatoes, marigolds, pumpkins and basil. I would like the basil to bloom before the sun is not sufficient for them. We are also getting some volunteer peas – a leftover from the overwintering seeds I planted to put more nitrogen into the soil. While watering, I noticed the spout was plugged. Out jumped a small amphibian. It is a delight to live in this place. I am so grateful for the ability to do this work with such good people, and be here, in this wild place.

A Beautiful Sculpture in the Garden

This is a very short post to share what I found in the garden. For those who don’t know what they are looking at, this is a monarch chrysalis. The identifying features are:

1. the jade like color, which is the amorphous goo of the caterpillar body liquefying and turning into a butterfly. The chrysalis is actually clear in color.

2. the yellow, pearl-like dots near the top, and

3. the large size. The monarch is among the largest butterflies in North America.

It is attached to the branch of this primrose by a silk web that the caterpillar creates specific for this purpose.

How did I miss signs and sights of caterpillars? I have been looking at the milkweed almost daily for signs of eating since the adult monarch laid her eggs. I have seen nothing. Evidently, someone survived. The monarchs are so mysterious, so difficult to find. That is a good thing though. The ability to exist hidden gives them even more tools for survival.

I am so ecstatic. The monarchs are here. They are surviving here. The habitat Maala Bwia (Mother Earth) brought back to this land, with the help of me and many, many wonderful people, is working. It is helping provide more food, roosting and nesting options for monarchs as they make their iconic migration across the west. Chiokoe uttesia te hahamevu in arapo bwe’u baise’eboli. Thank you big butterfly for coming to my home. Se enchi nake. I appreciate you.

Monarchs Stop By and Re-Emergence

Thankfully, Deedee Soto was at the ranch when the butterfly was here and captured these great photos.

I had wondered if monarchs would just pass me by this year because there was so little left for them. In fact, I was sure they would. Well, I was wrong (add that to the very long list!). On Friday, August 11, a mama monarch came by and decided to lay her eggs on the only intact milkweed remaining on the hilltop habitat. As you may recall from my previous post, the tarantula hawks had been nectaring on this one large narrowleaf milkweed. This, essentially, saved it from being eaten to a stick by the grasshoppers.

The monarch stayed around for about a week and laid more eggs on a couple other broadleaf (showy) milkweeds that had reemerged and were small. From what I learned, monarchs typically choose more mature plants for their eggs. In this case, she had limited options given the grasshopper incursion and chose smaller plants as well.

I wish I could say that I had a massive number of caterpillars, but I don’t. I am not sure what happened with the eggs. We got a very small impact from tropical storm Hilary, which dumped just under a quarter inch of rain in a short time. We’ve had swarms of dragonflies, a natural predator of butterflies. Ultimately, I don’t know why there are not multiple caterpillars. I look at the plants for evidence of eating and pooing, but daily, I see none.

I always appreciate people sharing their monarch sightings with me. There have been many more on their way back to the coast than there were heading northeast. There were 16 monarchs sighted in Catheys Valley off Highway 140. There were a couple more in the Mormon Bar area of Mariposa, one off Ben Hur Road and another near Midpines. I heard of several from Nellie in Yosemite this year as well. I always ask people to upload their sightings to westernmonarchmilkweedmapper.org. When I look at the map, I don’t see everyone’s entries, but it is possible they marked them to be private. When I find and upload california milkweed sightings, I mark those as private to prevent poaching. Believe it or not, some jerk took a California milkweed several years ago from a county trail area. Since that incident was reported by a friend, I have been very cautious.

Plants Come Back

Pacific aster re-emerges after grasshopper onslaught

Most people do not think of the end of summer as a time of plant growth. Here, at the ranch, regrowth is all around. While it still looks like a fire went through, with all the stripped, empty sticks that were once full, bushy plants, small sprouts of green along a branch or at the base are becoming visible. Close to 80% of the habitat has some regrowth. I am still waiting to see a spot of green in several other areas, but need to be prepared that those plants may not have been mature enough to withstand the grasshopper binge eating.

For now, the hoppers are mostly gone from the top of the hill where the largest habitat installations are. They continue to be profuse in patches of ground downhill on the west end of the ranch.

Many of the seedlings I raised have grown large now. I had to re-pot them as I waited for the hopper incursion to abate. Now, I feel comfortable planting them in the garden bed. Still, I am keeping my fingers crossed that the hoppers will not recirculate back here.

Feels good to have my hands in the dirt again

New Habitat Endures

Playing in the creek has paid off. I didn’t think the small rock check dam would be that helpful, but it has promoted sediment and moisture retention. There are spots further upstream that may have retained water given the significant rain (versus my check dam). What is exciting is that the span of these areas have connected and have created a lovely ecosystem with wildflowers that stayed through the summer, puddles, grasses, and other plants. It has allowed for a cool area with ongoing nutrients for a variety of life. I saw large, gorgeous dragonflies there, with stripped wings and some with stripped bodies and black and white wings. I also came upon a small bevvy of quail living in the roots of trees in the grove at the north end of this area. They undoubtedly use the standing water and consume the bugs this area attracts. It is all really beautiful. I am so proud.

Creatures Make a Home Everywhere

When I used to travel for work, I remember sometimes feeling very alone as I returned to my hotel room. It would cheer me up to see an insect that made it through the cleaning process. A spider handing in a corner or another small bug climbing around a basin would bring me such peace. I know that may sound strange, but to know that there is another life there with you, it is comforting. There is certainly not a lack of life on the ranch. Everywhere you look, there is something making a home, passing through or chattering for turf. Lately, I see a proliferation of gall wasp eggs, seemingly on every oak , webbed holes in the ground, bird tracks, coyote scat. The dragonfly population is large this year. I am seeing swarms of approximately 80+ whipping around the sky above me. It is no wonder I am so comfortable here and make this place my home.

General Monitoring and Planning

I keep an eye on things, make repairs, maintain planting areas, pick up litter that blows here and all else I need to do to ensure a clean, healthy place for all creatures. I check the wildlife guzzler regularly to make sure there is water available for all. I check the brush piles and add branches to them to keep them full and safe for pile-nesting birds. I look for damage, changes, use. It is one of the fun parts of this work – especially when it is cooler. I still venture out in the heat, but only in the early morning or before dusk. Needs pop up no matter the temperature, and I have a responsibility to this place. The time inside during high heat days give me the opportunity to plan for my next projects. Currently, I am working on a self-watering guzzler. The idea is to capture rain from a structure and gravity feed it into a guzzler. Parts of the ranch are more remote and not easily accessed by vehicle. Bringing water to those locations would be difficult and require more monitoring of water levels, the hauling of water. If I had a system that self-watered and self-regulated, that would save time and decrease the need for me to disturb areas.

Next Items

Up next in September/October/November/December:

cross fencing to protect california milkweed during grazing times
self-watering guzzler build
seeding disturbed areas from rock and log drop structure installation
install two more log drops/check dams
Help Tribe plant Xerces kits
Help three friends convert their lawns/yard into pollinator habitats

Wanderings

The skies have changed from heated blue to gray clouds and night purples and then back to blue. Light is beginning to recede at both ends of the day. A few people I care about have gone with the daylight, but in mother earth’s endless cycle of days, nights, seasons, abundance and scarcity, three have left and three are soon to arrive. Pain converts to joy and then to acceptance of the world and all its comings and goings. Memorials and baby showers. Winters and Springs. Milkeed and monarchs. Beauty is everywhere, especially in the love which undergirds both loss and gain in the spectrum that is life.

Toad-a-palooza. Forward Progress Despite Carnage All Around.

A good friend floats in the basil seedling basin

Despite the ongoing carnage wrought by the grasshoppers, I try to focus on the good things, like the myriad of frogs and toads in the garden. They are so cute to watch, and I know they are eating the grasshoppers. Although there are not enough of them to make a dent in the population of billions, I think the reason the willows and potted plants near the trough are only partially eaten is because Erma and her children live there. Yes, I said children. Guess what I saw…small toads hopping around! Our dear Erma is a mama. Before we get too sentimental, it is important to know that toads eat frogs and that they each eat their own. But…let’s hope each one of them focus on eating the abundant hoppers.

Rock and Log Drops Installed

I am so grateful that the log drop and rock drop structures were finally installed. They were planned in 2021, approved for install in 2022 and finally done in 2023. It took so long, but they are in, and I love them. The idea is to slow runoff from storms so that more moisture seeps into the ground water fractures and stays deep instead of in the first few inches. Secondarily, the rocks will capture sediment to build up to the level of the creek banks over time and become a more lush location for plant life. Keeping sediment from washing downstream also helps to keep the water clean as well as eroding the banks more. There are many benefits, and I am excited to see what they do in next year’s storms.

RCD and Fish & Wildlife Visit

Some of my favorite people came to look at the log and rock drop structures and some of the other projects I have on the ranch. Melinda Barrett from Mariposa County Resource Conservation District and Rosie Gonzalez from Fish & Wildlife were pleased to see the progress being made and some of the benefits of the riparian fencing. After checking out the structures, we explored Odom Creek, Spring Creek and some downstream check dams. I really appreciate their extensive knowledge, so was grateful they were interested in seeing the status and outcomes of some of the practices I have been doing. Flora and fauna are thriving in Odom Creek. There are no grasshoppers in that area of the ranch and plants are still in bloom. We saw abundant California Hairstreak butterflies, Buckeye butterflies, some Red Admiral butterflies and native bees. We saw a doe on the hillside, which is rare even in the more forested midsection of the ranch. I found a narrowleaf milkweed covered by expended thistle that seems to be doing well. I was wrong about what I thought were black oaks. It turns out they were fig trees. They were next to a willow seedling. There was even one fruit on the young tree. We walked to the property line and found abundant watercress. Yum! The water in the creek is still running well. There are many deep pools for animals to propagate, water and soak.

Wanderings

The Pain of Loss

I keep telling everyone that I have turned a corner in my emotionality, that I am not as broken as in years past when the hoppers have brought their deadly visits. I say I have finally put these losses in the category in which they belong, the one that says, “That’s the cycle of life.” In some ways, I have. However, the more I walk amongst the skeletal remains of plants, who were, only a week ago, strong, vibrant and filled with foliage, the more I feel that knot in my stomach. No, I am not crying, but it is because I have shed all the tears I can. The loss of my great grandmother oak in December took all the tears from my body, which has made me numb to all the other sadness that prevails here lately. It is my nature to be happy, so my psyche automatically attempts to buoy itself with the goodness I see – the mass of bumbles, native bees, abundance of toads, frogs, the cooler June, the still flowing water, the running of milkweeds and other native plants. But I also see the back-breaking work, the expense and the hope of help for monarchs all going down the esophagus of the grasshoppers. It isn’t just the plants that are now shriveled sticks, no leaves to turn the sun into energy and joy, that is me too for now.