a. californica – PolliNative

Another Race Against Time

Oh yes, by the title and the time of year, I am sure you understood that the grasshoppers are back. They are eating their way up the hill. I had hoped they would not be back, that the typical cadence of boom and bust for the hoppers would return. We are due for a few years without plague levels. Alas, once again, the imbalance of what we are doing to this planet has manifest itself on Taawim Bwiapo. Essentially, almost nothing gets to live but the grasshoppers.

Except…this year, I am more ready – busted thumb and limpy leg and all. As soon as I saw some bites in the oak seedlings by the creek. I had David purchase aluminum screen. He began to make little screen houses to go over the gopher cages in which the oak seedlings were planted as well as other screen boxes for my pollinator plants. The poor guy. He is doing so much. I am getting better, little by little, but still cannot perform most of the ranch work I need to get done. David also has his paid work to do, which has been extremely busy of late. To enable us to get what we need done in the timeframe it needs to be done, I decided to hire someone to help us on the ranch, and to give poor David a break.

I put out the word I was looking for someone, and a friend, Jeanne Ann, said she had a grandson who was looking for work. His name is Sam. He jumped in and did weedeating freeing David to help with the oaks. We began placing his boxes and found that the two oaks at the downstream section of Spring Creek were already eaten. I lost my breath. I was horrified. When I looked closer, I saw that the bark had not yet been eaten off, like last year. Maybe there was still a chance. We covered and watered them anyway in case they were able to survive.

Then, a major issue happened at David’s work, and he was on a service incident for the entire day. Work stopped on my oak and plant cages. With my injuries, I was not able to do anything. I asked Sam if he knew how to build and use carpentry equipment. Turns out, he has done building before -so he had knowledge. He jumped in and innovated on David’s design and began pumping out screen boxes. Thank you Sam!!

They are designed to have a wooden top to give it weight and an attachment point. There are two stakes (cut on the table saw from scrap wood) attached to the wooden top. They are nailed in at an angle to help with going over the cage shaft. Screen is measured to just fit around the gopher cage shaft. The screen is wrapped around the wooden structure and stapled.

To do this takes time. The trees by the house got their boxes first. Then more needed to be built. Sam worked on the boxes while David and I placed what had been built. David could only work with me in short bursts because of his work schedule. It is laborious and very hand-oriented. You need to load water for the trees, load the boxes, the hammer, buckets and other tools to open cages or fix things. Then, you need to drive the polaris to the locations — no power steering. Next, you unload what you need, pull the huge, heavy tub with water toward the tailgate, unscrew the cap, hold onto the cap despite the pressure of the water in the large container, hold the watering can with the other hand or place on the ground, close the cap just right to prevent leakage (since you must have enough water for all the trees on your route.), haul the water, remove the shade burlap from the gopher cage, and water the tree. You need to pull up the coir pad so the screen box stakes can hit the dirt. Then, you go back to the cart, grab the screen box, lift it over the side of the cage. You need to alternate your hands through the openings in the cage, grabbing the screen box with one hand while placing your next hand through the next level of holes to grab the box, gently lowering it down over the oak in its gopher cage. This takes time. It is a gentle operation because you don’t want to risk dropping the screen box in the cage out of reach or breaking a branch on the seedling. Next, you carefully fit the screen over the gopher cage. They are designed to just fit. You don’t want to be too strong with it or the screen may pull off the staples or wood crack. You pull it over the gopher cage like a condom, then take your hammer and pound the wood stakes into the moist ground with the hammer. You then squish dirt up against the screen so there is no entry point for the hoppers. You place the coir pad back around the blended unit, grab the discarded hammer, walk back to the polaris and do it all again. Ideally, you don’t want to have to open the cage. That takes much more time – so you have to be careful.

With my thumb still busted, wrist, knuckles and ankles still sprained, my job has been copilot, holding the water bucket with my good hand, carefully walking over to the tree, watering and removing the burlap and coir pad. David was doing everything else. As we went to each tree, I held my breath as I lifted the burlap shade cover, hoping I would see the healthy seedlings I had watered just 6 days prior. The two upstream on the Spring Creek…they looked great. I breathed out. The one by the lower pastures planted into the old dead oak, I lifted the cover, mostly eaten. There was one green leaf left. I’ll take it. Watered and screened. The discovery was unsettling. I became nervous for the others.

Then, David received a message that there was another major issue at work. He had to help save the day for a different type of situation. Secretly, I deflated. We needed to complete the work or there might not be any other trees to screen. I felt nearly useless and very dependent upon David. Shoulders slumped, I helped pack up the polaris and got into the passenger’s seat. We had been out since 6:30am working. It was almost 9am. David had given me plenty.

As we drove toward the house, I resolved that I would do as much as I could with one hand. There could be no more delays. We already lost the two oaks down stream. I had to do something. We got home; David jumped out and quickly went inside. I went over to the pile of screen boxes, loaded up for the remainder of the oaks, got behind the driver’s seat for the first time in 5 weeks and carefully backed up and went back out.

The first tree was the oak by the guzzler. Hopefully, I lifted the burlap. She was gone. I went to my knees, gripping the cage, lay my head on the fencing and let out a scream and started to cry. Another one so healthy just days ago –gone. I pulled it together, and with renewed determination, I set about doing what David did, slowly and steadily. I was able to use my right arm, instead of the hand, as a bolster to hold things against my body and my left hand to do everything else. It was not ideal, but it was the only tool I had.

Like the other eaten oaks, the bark was still intact. I watered her, screened her, shaded her, and then moved on. The oak near the perimeter fence on the southeast was gone too. Instead of getting mad, I did the same thing… water, screen, cover. I went to the next tree. She was gone. My stomach started twisting. Hatred for myself for not being on it sooner crept in. Remember, every tree that does not survive, I must wait another year before I can try again. It is another year wasted. Water, screen, cover. I drove to the tree due west of our old, dying grove, lifted the burlap and — she was super healthy, full of leaves! The hoppers had not found her yet. I watered, screened and covered. Of the nineteen seedlings, six were stripped and ten had survived. The other three failed to thrive. They were lost around the time of the May heat wave.

Two Weeks Prior

Just like in the movies, I will now take you to a flashback two weeks before the hoppers ramped up. David and I have been maintaining a strict watering schedule of every 5 days for the oaks. In anticipation of the mini heatwave, we also cut sections of burlap to lay over the gopher cages to shade the oaks. Sadly, two oaks appear to not have made it through the heat, the one in the exclosure and one of the driveway oaks. We continue to water them just in case the roots are still alive.

Milkweeds Gone

Similar to the oaks, the grasshoppers are all over the California milkweed. The only difference from last year is that the hoppers came later giving the milkweed more time to set seedpods. With the accident, I have not been able to monitor the sites. Last Sunday, I felt strong enough to walk up the hill, slowly and carefully. I found every milkweed at one stage or another of being eaten. On the more intact ones, there was still no sign of monarch activity. I am officially designating this spring a no monarch spring. Add that to the no monarch fall. It is beginning to feel very depressing.

The plants on the south-facing slope were mostly eaten. There was evidence of seedpod destruction. Although not prepared with clippers and a bag, I began to harvest the pods. If I waited much longer, they would all be gone. Because I was pulling them off the stem early, the white “milk” ran onto my hand making my fingers and palm sticky. I continued, but could only find six seed pods remaining at the site. I moved to the north-facing site. More plants were intact, but were rapidly being eaten. There was a bumper crop of seed pods, including four massive ones. Normally, I would never harvest more than 10% of the pods and allow them to drop and open naturally. In this case, with sure death ahead of them, I went about my business of disconnecting the children from the umbilical cord, they, still holding tight for the nourishment it brings, and me, covered in mom’s milk grabbing her treasure for the possibility of life down the road.

With no bag, I placed them in my pockets, held a bunch in my arm and finally, made a pouch with my tee shirt. Several branches, with seedpods still attached, had been dismembered from the plant by the hoppers. I used those as a base for piling on the loose pods. It worked. I was able to slowly navigate back across the hills, pregnant with A. Californica seed, to the patio without dropping a pod. After the danger has passed, I will release these seeds back into the areas from which I harvested them – probably September.

With the milkweeds done for the year, the cows still remaining on the ranch and the grasses nearly 4′ tall, I opened the gates to the far north field. The cattle have made their way into the field munching on the buffet of tall grass and thick green grass and flowers in the riparian areas that have been, as yet, untouched by cattle. Within the first day, those green patches were eaten down to dirt. My feelings are mixed. While I want to preserve the flowers I have left in the riparian areas, I also would like the tall grass to be grazed off a bit. Fire danger is always top of mind. All needs must be balanced, habitat for birds, pollinators while not trying to overstock too much on grass.

Wildlife

Even as the temperatures heat up, there are blooms, and I still see glimpses and/or evidence of wildlife. The guzzler has continued to be a center point for racoon and bird activity.

Wanderings

What horrors we are seeing. There are so many tragedies happening; I can feel the energy of the earth listing. There is only one healthy way to be, and that is in balance. You don’t take more than you need. You don’t give more than you can. My dear friend had a very ill wife. He cared for her for over 20 years. He was unbelievable, one of the finest caregivers I have ever seen. Lifting, bathing, feeding, driving, monitoring – he was her spirit moving her through life, so that she could live well and with dignity. She passed last month. My friend, with nothing left for himself, died three and a half days later. He gave more than he could.

With so much loss and sadness, it has been difficult to focus on writing. The unrest, murders, bombs and abuses of power, have caused me and so many others emotional distress. This is not living in a good way. I see it on the ranch, the imbalances. It is unhealthy, and things are mixed up here. There are only two entities that can move us back into balance – us, or Maala Bwia (Mother Nature). Given all the human greed and climate horror of the last century to today, I don’t have much hope that it will be us that leads the shift back. But, if it is itom Maala/our Mother, it will not end well for many of us. So let’s get more of us working toward finding our equilibrium.

Amid the depravity and cruelty, there is always light. This is something so lovely it will fill your heart – true heroes from the Resource Conservation District of Santa Monica Mountains racing to save gobbie fish and trout from sure death after the catastrophic Palisades Fire in Southern California. This is the type of character that will shift us – respect, dedication and reciprocity to all life no matter its popularity, size or their ability to be commercialized for humans.

Here is the article in the LA Times.

Here is a brief YouTube film the organization made.

Here is a link to a larger documentary about humans fulfilling their obligations to the Huya Ania (Wilderness/Natural World). It is just a trailer, but please, try to organize a viewing at your location if you have the capacity.

Goodness exists all around us. Grab hold of it instead of the negative. Cling. Never let go. Eventually, its light wraps you, moves through you, becomes who you are. Let’s all bring more light.

Relationships

My hubby and I at the Sierra Foothill Conservancy dinner

We need each other.

As the monarch needs the milkweed, and the milkweed needs the soil, and the soil needs the rain, we rely on systems that work together so that we may live.

Recently, I was hit by a car. I was riding a rental bike, like I’ve done for years in nearly every city to which I travel, and a distracted motorist saw me too late, hit the breaks, but still made impact with the bike sending me into the gutter of the road. I don’t remember from impact to lifting my head up from the ground, but as I lifted my head, the breath knocked out of me, the sting of air making contact with my insides, the smell of blood, I was in disbelief. How could this happen to me? I am so careful.

To walk across a street, to ride a bike with traffic, to drive through an intersection, these are all acts of trust, a dependency on others, a relationship where you rely on others to understand the gravity of responsibility and a determination that laws will be followed. Sometimes our relationships break down, rules not followed, predictable patterns altered, one side exploits the other taking more than is given – the balance that makes life possible can begin to shift.

While there is beauty across the ranch, nectar in all colors, shapes and sizes, there are not many insects using them, particularly butterflies. There were mostly cabbage butterflies this year nectaring on the wildflowers. I saw two yellow swallowtails. David saw one orange butterfly (He couldn’t identify it, though I hoped it was a monarch.). And, just the other day, I saw a checkerspot. Not much of a list compared to years past – especially when there is so much nectar around. Last year, I understand; we were decimated by grasshoppers. There was nothing – but this year – there is so much.

The following photos were taken largely in late April and early May when the grass was still green – and when I still had full use of my legs and hands. At this time, late May, the hillsides are yellow from young grass turned to hay and the water ways have shrunken and drainages dried. I am healing, but poor David is having to do my work and his.

Oaks Surviving

Most of the planted oaks are surviving. We lost two of the 19 seedlings. The areas with acorn plantings – none of them came up. The acorns were all taken. However, there has been a blockbuster of natural recruitment (oaks emerging naturally from acorn). While weed eating, David found one hundred emerged oaks around one of the grandmother blue oak trees. We have looked at other nearby oaks and found more seedlings. Evidently, there is the right combination of moisture, acorn and soil conditions to allow for massive propagation. Don’t get too excited. Most of those babes will get eaten. With vigor, David flagged the seedlings so he could keep an eye on them and continue to pull grass as new shoots grew, but he quickly saw that these seedlings were also delicious meals for gophers. We are going to try to cage some of them and water them – especially outside of the enclosure where the cattle graze.

No Monarchs – Again. But, Bumbles Return

Sadly, the California Milkweed has remained pristine, no telltale bite marks, yellow stain or caterpillar poop. The north facing plants are still blooming with just a few beginning to set seed pods. The south facing plants, reliable hosts for traveling monarchs, are fully spent and well into setting seed pods. The only reason my spirit is not completely crushed is that the crotch bumble bees still reigned supreme on the hill in the milkweed plots. I even saw some down the hill near the cow clover. They seem to be increasing in number slightly.

With the survival of my old white sage plant from the grasshopper incursion, its blooms have brought back a myriad of bumble bees and small pollinating flies. The onions are blooming as well and have encouraged micro pollinators into the yard. I love seeing those very small, hard-working insects. More lady beetles have been around, but not in numbers I’ve seen before. Of course, house flies seem to be abundant every year, and this year is no exception.

With the second lowest count of monarch adults since the history of the overwintering count, I perhaps should not have hoped for a visit. This would be the second time in a row monarchs have bypassed the ranch. I understood skipping us last fall on their way back. Truthfully, I didn’t want to be here. All the stripped and murdered plants, grasshoppers shifting around like flakes in a snow globe, it was all too sad. But, I stayed. I had saved one large narrowleaf milkweed with a screen box my husband made. I kept watch on that plant for the entire summer to make sure it was still available should the monarchs stop back on their way to overwinter. Like a child at Christmas, I waited for an orange, black and white Santa to come, gifting their eggs to hatch and a sense of fulfilled purpose and hope. But, Monarch Santa never came, and I questioned my work. How could I do better? How can I make the habitat more resilient?

Birds and Other Wildlife

The bird songs have been incredible this spring. I finally set up my hammock, and when I have time, lay in it and listen. There are audio devices available now to hang in trees, record and send back to the vendor for a list of birds present based on the songs. Very cool. I want to do that.

Even though I don’t have a value-added product I sell from the ranch, I decided I wanted to become an Audubon Certified ranch. This is a badge that tells consumers that your ranch adheres to a set of protocols that promote more sustainable ranching practices – and certainly promote better habitat for birds. I already follow and perform many of the practices they outline, so I think we will be a good fit. I applied to do this because I want access to more expertise on bird habitat and become a better birder. One of the things I am really excited to work on is improvement of quail habitat. They are so cute. I want them to thrive here.

There has been quite a bit of action around the wildlife guzzlers. Raccoons at both Guzzler 1 and 2, and birds at Guzzler 1. There was even a family of five raccoons that visited. Check out the photos below to see who stopped by.

I also had a wonderful encounter with a hawk. I called to him, and he came. I talked to him as he circled me 8 times. Wow, was he a beauty.

While walking in the grove, I saw a large bird in a tree. I tried to get good photos, but by this time, you know that is not my best skill. After showing them to a friend who knows much more than me, he thought it was a lewis woodpecker. I know we have those, so I believe him!

When David and I went to check on Guzzler 2 and cut up the downed tree across the road, we noticed that there were hundreds of what looked like little baby toads hopping around the Odom Creek riparian area. I had Dave stop the Polaris and keep it parked at the top of the hill, so we didn’t impact (read: squish) this incredible hatchery of hundreds of amphibians. We had to haul all the equipment by hand across the creek and up the other side, deal with the tree, then move on to the Guzzler 2 to troubleshoot the camera and weed around the guzzler. Fortunately, David is incredibly strong. He hauled all the chainsaw equipment, and I, with my bum leg and bum right hand, carefully carried the bag of game cam equipment.

Lots of beauty all around us.

Land Stewardship

Work on the land is never done. Type A folks and list makers, don’t feel panic. Feel joy. Ours is an ongoing relationship of commitment and love. What a sense of accomplishment you feel when you see the land around you look healthier, smell wonderful, and host so much more wildlife. You did that; you are fulfilling your responsibilities as a species with your particular brain, hands, food needs and knowledge. Chiokoe uttesia weweria. Thank you relative.

It has been difficult to fulfill these responsibilities for me as of late due to the accident. But, prior to that, there was considerable weed pulling and whacking, monitoring milkweed, watering the planted oaks, and watering native plants to give them a good start.

Wanderings

You just keep moving. There is always so much to do, so much to accomplish and commitments to fulfill. There can be little time to reflect on the “what wases” and “what could have beens”. Walking is where I reflect, and that has temporarily been taken from me. Sitting in my hammock, my bum hand, ankles and leg in sight, unable to perform some of the simplest of tasks, learning to use my left hand for more than is typical, my emotions stir. They shift, float round and round, then settle in to a simmer. What emerges is the knowledge, clearer than ever, that we are all part of one larger whole. In Indigenous circles, we talk about “All one nation.” or “All one people.” How many times I’ve used that statement believing it from a scientific point of view, not the philosophical or the practical. Sitting, as I was, not useless, not helpless, but more in need – not as useful as I’d like, the thought of how much help I have already needed and would continue to need was acid simmering, a dull pain then realization – “all one people”.

I thought about the man that hit me, the man that helped me, the first responders, the unconcerned officers, the hotel staff most of whom were kind, our friends that came to the rescue (Carol, Sean and Ernest, then Josh to check my wounds), my boss Nancy whose compassion and understanding is simply inspiring – and blindingly effervescent, my husband’s love for me. How remarkable a life is it to see such consideration and care. It is not that I think I don’t deserve the kindness of others; it is simply uncomfortable for me to cause any imposition. I know everyone has challenges they are dealing with, and I don’t want to be one more weight. But, how I cried at the love shown to me and to David. How I sobbed feeling David’s arm reach around me to provide support when my leg didn’t want to work, and the care with which he changes my bandages, ignoring the blood, goo and scabs as he navigates the myriad of bruises to delicately place a clean pad with antimicrobial cream over the broken skin he has always loved to touch. We are all one people not just in DNA ways, but in the need we have for one another – not just to receive care, but to provide it.

My accident could very easily have resulted in a worse outcome, as the left temporal lobe area of the helmet, scraped and cracked, would indicate. So, the bandage changes, the leg support, the running around watering oak trees, pulling weeds, planting plants – they are all a joy for him because it could have been so different, something that is too dark to think of, but close enough to see the shadows of what could have been.

As with everything in my life, I see it as a metaphor or a parallel with the life of the monarchs. There are so many who care. They see the changes, the damage, the need for help, and they jump in, an ocean of people whose relationship with this beautiful insect leaves a trail of life in the form of habitat, improved policy, and human relationships that bring joy. We all need each other because we are all one living organism – all of us – monarchs, bees, dogs and trees. We are all relations. We see the shadows too dark to contemplate, and thankfully, some refuse to imagine a life without monarchs – and so we work, together, caring for one another, healing and hopefully, leaving what is broken more intact, enough to support millions of butterflies, and every life, once again.

I started this blog post with a photo of David and I. This relationship is my skeleton, my skin, my connective tissue, supporting everything I do. The center of my story, however, is the land – in bwia ania, my land universe. It is my heart, one of my deepest relationships. This beautiful planet, with all its environs, is the reason we are all here. It gives us food, air and water. Let’s be a good relation, in good relation, with her and one another.

Sunrise after a storm at Tawim Bwiapo (Place of the Hawks)

Miracle

It is probably overstated about “miracles happening every day” – a bird making a nest, the bloom of a flower, someone loving you unconditionally, bridges holding millions of tons and planes staying in the air – all seem like miracles. Something I’ve not seen is an oak seedling come back from the devastation of plague level grasshoppers stripping everything, even the bark, from the plant… but now I have. The very first oak seedling I planted last year, shockingly, has re-sprouted leaves.

When I went around to reuse the baskets I had painstakingly planted in winter 2023-24, I carefully examined each little seedling hoping against the odds that there were survivors. They never got to grow much. Their inner layers had been exposed, stripped bare of anything that looked like a plant. In addition, the summer was long and with brutal heat.

Like a careful pediatrician, I would gently bend their tiny branches to see if there was any moisture and life remaining. All of their little limbs broke off. I would gently tug their trunk to see if there was any give. Sadly, most of them pulled right out of the ground, gone from the strain. There were a few that refused to give, and I left them there. This year, in those baskets, instead of placing a new seedling, I lightly covered an acorn. I thought, maybe they needed a friend to share the energy for one life. When I got to the seedling I planted at the base of my beloved now dead oak, I saw what looked like a couple green and red buds on the trunk. I took my glasses off and wiped them thinking maybe I had some gunk on them. I put them back on, looked closer, almost putting my face up against the basket. Oh my goodness, YES!! Resiliency!! She was alive and producing some leaves. A miracle for sure!

I have also been monitoring the other oaks closely. So far, they all appear to be doing well. They all have leaves. The baskets where I only placed acorn have not sprouted anything. One site, it was clear that the acorn was taken. I replaced that one acorn with two, and will hope one of them makes it to germination.

David and I have finally got all of the oaks caged. When the cows return from the south end of the ranch, the oaks are now protected. I had planted them well before the caging was done, and some of them had been stepped on or bent from hungry cow heads exploring their ability to access the tasty acorn and tree. The trees are small enough that the tallness of the basket protected them. That said, I needed to do a bit of reshaping before caging the area around the plant. We followed a new protocol for caging that Alex Palmerlee, an oak expert in Butte County follows. We used much stiffer cow panel fencing at at length of 8′ and a height of 50″ secured to two t-posts. Previously, we used no-climb fencing at a thinner gauge with a much larger diameter. The thinness required three t-posts to secure. I think this new method will require less resources and be more resistant to pushing in from the cows, thus OK to have a shorter diameter. Thank you to my long-suffering husband for doing the major share of the caging work. After I maintained the oak planting site by weeding, re-situating coir pads and “fluffing” the baskets back to their original shape, David would follow with the caging. I had already set out the t-posts for him, and he brought the panels. We make a pretty good team.

Straightening oak basket from cow step-on

The weather is beginning to warm. There is still water running in all the creeks and drainage’s. The soil is still moist. However, soon I will need to follow a watering regime to ensure oak the survival of these babies. Fortunately, I have not see any grasshopper nymphs like last year. Crossing my fingers that hoppers will not be a problem and that these trees will have time to become established.

CA Milkweed Shockers

Monitoring the Ca Milkweed patches is a good workout. Walking up the super steep grade ensures my legs and heart are getting the blood and movement they need. So, I was not sure if it was the workout or that when I got near the top of the hill a milkweed was missing, that was the cause of my heart was racing over 100 beats per minute. I was panicked. After seeing the pile of loose dirt mounded up where my gorgeous mature milkweed always is, I began looking for all the other ones. Visions of gopher mounds clouded my mind as I frantically ran from one location to the next. Most of the others were intact. Another small one was missing, but another one popped up on the other side of the patch. For the mature, large milkweed, I think the gophers had been gnawing on it for a while. That is probably why it was so small this year. Then poof — gone.

Something else remarkable has happened this year. The CA Milkweed on the north facing slope has emerged only 10 days after the south facing slope. For the past several years, there has been between 3 weeks to 1.5 months between emergence’s. I counted five on the north facing slope and only seven on the south facing slope. As I look for them, I weed around them. The grass is a lot of rye this year, and it is really tight against the milkweed. Hopefully, giving them some space will help and enable to monarchs to feel their eggs will be more protected. Perhaps it will not be a big year for milkweed, and we will need both sides available for the monarchs.

I installed a game camera up on the south facing slope looking at (now) one milkweed. I am hopeful to catch a monarch landing on the milkweed. I installed it over the last weekend, and went up the next day to check the card to make sure it was capturing images and pointed in the right direction. It somehow got shifted and was only catching a piece of the milkweed on the very left side of the frame. I fixed that. Hope it stays.

While up there on Sunday 4/6, I was treated to some amazing things. First, the scent of the cow clover and all the vetch. Second, two or three large crotch bumble bees buzzed me and then went about their business nectaring. They let me know who is in charge. Finally, a gorgeous, large harrier was floating across the surface of the ranch looking for dinner. Just incredible. Currently, only a few of the Calif Milkweed blooms have emerged from they duff protection. As more get released, they will add to the extraordinary perfume, a siren song, to all pollinators.

Wildflowers at Massive Scale

Wildflowers never disappoint. They are up and at a massive scale. The air is thick with nectar, especially when you walk through a cow clover patch. So sweet! With the flowers come the insect relatives. I love them so much.

Time

Each day, I try to make it to the top of the hill to check the Ca milkweeds. The girls are aging and sometimes stay at the bottom of the hill. They are my joy. Along the way, I straighten baskets, fix twisted screens, weed around milkweeds, and pick up trash, like Mylar balloons. There is always something to do here that can help. When I eventually sit down to write this blog and share the things I have seen, done or learned, it takes time. I started this post over a week ago, and the land has changed significantly since then. Water has soaked into the ground leaving puddles behind. Some flowers have finished their bloom and others emerged to replace them. Small pollinators are out in droves, and were not out just a week ago. Even in the photos, you can see my clothing move from jackets, to sweaters to tank tops. I will try to move these out more quickly, and perhaps it will help me make these posts shorter and more current. Do I say that each time? We began this blog discussing miracles.

It is a goal anyway.

Water | Oaks | Tornado Warning!

I ate two bars of chocolate for breakfast, and I was lit. No one said I was perfect – eggs, oatmeal, too hard for me to think about preparing that day, and I succumbed to the ease of – go to the fridge, grab a bar, open a wrapper, and eat. Then, again. Not proud, but true.

Lately, the intense investment of time, energy, thought and emotion over the last 12 months are catching up with me. My dad is improving; though there are still back-slides, he can do more for himself. As a result, I collapse into a heap of less usefulness and find myself tired all the time, getting out of routine, or filling those moments of routine with non-dad items long ago neglected.

This transition period is messy. Some days my brain is so out of sync I cannot put two words together thoughtfully. My diet of chocolate, peanuts and jam and, if I had some energy earlier in the week, basic salad, is not the finest to promote optimal brain function. Some days my husband will take pity on me and make me a smoothy, or an egg. This day, I am up earliest and on my own. Chocolate it is. Caffeine and I do not mix. I know this. I am hungry, lazy and just love the taste. Jitters take hold, and my plan to plant more oaks just got an accelerant.

Oak Planting Nearly Done

I planted all of the oak seedlings except one, planted all of the riparian oak acorns, and planted half of the elder oak acorn. The rest of the elder oak acorn I saved for acorn flour. I checked the plantings done earlier in the month and February. The cows got their snouts through the fencing on one and pulled the coconut coir. I put it back. Some of the flags were askew. I straightened them. I placed flags on others. I weeded away from new growth in the already enclosed plantings. Maintenance is important to ensure better outcomes.

Lots of worms in the dirt. This was the only larval one

Red are oak seedlings. Blue dots are acorn plantings

After one of the storms, I saw one of the seedlings I planted had its basin filled with standing water. Too much water, and oak roots can rot. One of the challenges of selecting a site is that I am considering access to water over the long term. As such, I have been planting near the creek or near a spring flow. One of the upstream oaks on Spring Creek is planted in a flow. It is west facing with other oak shade. The soil is predominantly clay. Excellent conditions for water accumulation.

I lifted the coir pad, stuck my finger in the mud and created a channel to allow the standing water to flow out of the small basin I try to place around each planting. It mostly worked to alleviate the stand. Water is everywhere, and that section, because of the flow, is already saturated. However, I was able to get the water down low enough so it was not submerging part of the trunk. The weather will be dry this week, and I anticipate the remaining standing water will be gone within 24 hours. I will go back and recreate the basin wall for the next rain event.

While out checking the oaks and maintaining their planted areas, I was quickly caught up in a storm. The wind was ferocious, bending the oak marking flags to almost 90 degrees. Fortunately, I was in my final section, which happened to be nearest the house. The rain started to pour. While I had a jacket on, I was wearing shorts (I know. I’m crazy). The wind whipped at my exposed legs, and then it started to pour. I typically traverse the ranch on foot to limit soil impacts from the quad or truck. I finished with the oak I was working on and bolted up the hill, through the gate, around to the front of the house, sloshing in mud (I had my muck boots on), mud splattering across my legs. Finally, I got to the front door – a soaked, muddy mess. Although I was almost denied entry to the house by my family, it was ok. I love this life.

Checking New Log Check Dam

I was excited to see that the new, poorly connected log check dam was still in place after one of the storms. It was doing its job, pooling water behind it, slowing the runoff just enough to really soak the soil. Then, the large storm came with 2.25″ of rainfall. I checked the dam again. It was not there. The rocks I put in place to help the log were still there acting as a smaller check dam and pooling some water. I walked down stream and found the log. It was caught up in a tangle of branches, leaves and gunk about 60 feet downstream. Not to be deterred, I pulled it out from the makeshift dam and began to pull it toward its original location. The cedar log, typically lightweight, was heavy with absorbed water. David, who was walking with me then, took pity on me and picked up the log with the flick of his wrist, to show off, and returned it to its place. We will need to secure it much better in the coming days.

Gates Shut. North Field Belongs to the Milkweed Now

One of the best investments I’ve made in the last couple years is the cross fence to protect the California Milkweed. It is a critical, early emerging plant essential for post-overwintering monarch survival. Three of the four communities of plants are protected by this fence. In addition to protection of the California Milkweed, excluding the cattle during prime wildflower season has resulted in 40 acres filled with wildflowers of all types, sizes and colors. This means I have unbelievable amounts of nectar without having to plant another plant across a huge swath of land. Not only are the colors dazzling, the smell hangs in the air. It is like drinking perfume.

I think because of the weather whiplash, the California Milkweed is stunted. They are not their normal size for this time of year and are already producing flowers that will bloom in about a week. As of 3/20/2025, there are only four of the possible 21 emerged. Given that this past overwintering count of monarchs has been the second lowest on record, perhaps there will be fewer butterflies floating this way, and the stunted plants will be sufficient. I have not had an opportunity to place a camera up on the hill. The last time I tried, there was no signal for my special game cameras. I think I will use it in analog mode and grab the photos off later. This way, there is something up there as soon as possible.

While I am on the hill checking each milkweed and looking for more emerging, I decide to take a break and sit, contemplate things. Out of nowhere comes Taawe (Hawk). They decide to come for a visit, flying close and low. Taawe is close enough to hear me, so I speak in my language. It’s an original language of this continent, co-evolved with the many relatives from this soil. We’ve all shifted around following a cycle of movement south to north, west to east, and back again. Taawe understands me; it circles, flits, plays with elevation, but always above me. It circles away. I call to it. Taawe circles back. We play this game for a few circles, then I lay back down on the cool grass, the smell of soil and moisture in my nose. It flies to the east, and I say “Chiokoe uttesia in weweria. Ito te vitne.” “Thank you my relative. See you soon.”

Guzzler Install Complete

It took David nearly six days over two and a half weeks, but the guzzler is finally complete. We still need to build a fence around it to exclude the cows and build out the tank portion of the system to feed more clean water to the unit over time. Currently, there are stock panels attached to the overhang structure to keep the cow away from it as best as possible. Panels are ok since the gaps in them are large enough for most animals to move through. They are too small though for larger animals like deer. It is a priority for me to complete that fence to maximize its utility. The storms have filled the unit, and it is ready for wildlife to drink from. THANK YOU David!!

Dangers Realized

Although I have relaxed more with the fencing in place, catastrophes can still happen. Three times now I have gone outside to find cows where they shouldn’t be. Once, they jostled the gate open to the far north field. They jostled the gate open to guzzler 1, and yesterday I found them in the Spring Creek exclusion area. The wire gate had been squished down. In all cases, my heart sunk with concern that all I worked for could be lost in one accident with a poorly structured gate lock. Things were ok with the far north field. The Ca Milkweed was fine, and not too many of the blooms were up to be eaten. Guzzler one sustained significant damage. The solar panel connected to the game camera was severed. The wire had been snipped and stomped on. The stainless steel mesh over the gutter was folded up on both ends in tortuous fashion. Fortunately, we have an extra panel with wire and more gutter screen. We can fix that. I have yet to assess the damage to the exclusion area where large lupines, oak seedlings and larkspur are all just getting ready to develop blooms. It would be a catastrophe of large proportion if much of that was destroyed. In all cases, I secured the gate locks with a carabiner (cannot be licked open), twisted wire (cannot be jostled open), and a second loop securing the wire gate.

Cows are not my only problem. The other day when I was assessing the Spring Creek planting areas, I opened the caging of a small oak to thin grass that had grown around it. I was on my knees peacefully pulling the grass away from the oak when I heard a thrash across the creek. It was a single wild pig. She was small, about 250 lbs, and had been laying in a hollow between downed tree limbs. She must have been assessing me for a while. There were at least 15 minutes that transpired as I walked, dogs at my feet, into the area, then to the caged oak, and then the time it took to open the cage and sit there for a while pulling grasses.

I immediately got to my feet and watched her run downstream, then across the creek, under the fence, up and over the hill. I didn’t think much of it until I followed downstream and found upturned soil from pig rooting, hoof marks sliding down the creek banks, a missing seedling from the slide, and then I worried about all the acorn I planted. Could she have rooted them out and eaten them? All that hard work for nothing? Pigs are non-Native and are very destructive. As a lover of all life, I have long pondered what to do about this issue. I hate the idea of killing them, but I may need to seriously consider that. With them in this area as often as they are, I may not ever be able to make headway on habitat. The survival of my Native relatives, monarchs, bumble bees, grasses, oaks and milkweed are paramount to me.

Wildlife and Flowers Abound

In addition to the pig and worms, I have seen interesting bugs, a ground squirrel, lots of various types of song birds and raptors, frogs, a silver bee, and most excitingly a couple swallowtail butterflies. I did not get a photo of them, but they are beautiful. It flew over me when I was lounging in the garden.

Water Everywhere

My neighbor said to me the other day that she has never heard so many frog songs in her entire time owning her ranch, which has been longer than me. They have been loud, joyful and seemingly from every direction. She thought it was due to my work. I don’t know if that is true, but I cannot help feel a sense of happiness that perhaps I contributed at least a little by creating lots of eddies, moist areas and long lasting puddles with the check dams. Thank you Kim for noticing that something was different.

Small rock check dam doing its job. Note the wider size upstream (foreground)

Tornado Warning

Tornadoes have never been a California staple. For all my cognitive years, I’ve not heard of anything like this until the early 2000s when there was a funnel cloud sighting in Livermore. In the last three years, we have had a real tornado in Santa Cruz, a warning in San Francisco, a warning in south Mariposa, one for some other counties in the Valley, and now, on Tuesday, March 17, 2025, two in one afternoon, both in my vicinity. This is not normal.

David looked at the radar and saw the first cell would be well north of us. He said not to worry. I was of course still worried and making a plan in my head – a California girl with no tornado experience except The Wizard of Oz, Day After Tomorrow and some documentaries I watched a million years ago. I remembered that you should take shelter in a room without a window, or a place with the most framing, or possibly in the middle of the house. Who remembered? Like most Californians, we don’t have a basement — and we are on the top of the hill to boot.

I had just started to calm down when I heard my phone beep loudly again. It was another tornado warning. David was home by then and looked at the radar. It appeared that the severe storm cell was going to be headed straight for us. I ordered everyone in the house to shelter in the laundry room, and to bring the cats and dogs. I called my neighbor to encourage her to move from her RV into her home.

The cell reached the house 15 minutes later. The thunder was remarkable, booming so loud overhead and shaking the house. Then, the hail fell, hitting our metal roof like an angry teenager slamming a million doors over and over. In just 10 minutes, the storm had moved on. Light filtered through the clouds once more. Besides the ground being littered with hail stones, several of the long dead oak trees toppled. I found one across the cattle road a day later. Chainsaw work is in my future for sure.

I feel grateful that mother nature is warning us instead of simply squishing us. We have an opportunity to act, to care, to show respect for all living things – to change the course of our life and be in greater balance. “How can I respond even more than I am already doing?” is the question I ask myself regularly. Two tornado warnings in one afternoon? What will it take to wake people up to care? For me, I am going to double down on milkweed, consume less, choose even less packaging, fly less, walk more … and … look into building a basement.

Another Winterless Year

Like last year, and perhaps one or two others, the winter has been short -maybe two weeks in total. Although we’ve had some cold days and rain storms, less than 3 weeks have had frost, and some of those frost days were only in the arroyos, and spread across the hills. No snow this year or last. When I first moved here in 2003, we reliably had 2 to 4 snow events per year. I am at a fairly low elevation, so when I say “snow events” I mean snow that is 1 to two cm deep or simply snow that does not stick. As a child growing up an hour north, we had snow every year. This is not normal. The years not only are getting warmer, they are staying warmer longer. In fact, we’ve had far too many warm days this “winter” when it should be cold.

Wildflowers that used to come out in March, which itself was slightly early, now come out in February – and even this is shifting fast. I spotted my first wildflower the first week of February. I am terrified of the day that I begin to see them in January.

The second week of February, the short white wildflowers are appearing, with many other buds waiting to open. These are what I call the super nectar flowers. There a typically millions of them, tight and close to the ground, that make the air smell so sweet.

These shifts in bloom time can be devastating. All of us animals depend on cycles when our foods emerge. We cannot have mismatches, when flowers appear too early and bees and butterflies appear at the regular time only to find that their nectar sources have already bloomed and are gone. Or, the weather turns cold again after being warm, signaling the flowers to bloom and trees to leaf, then killing the emerging buds. I have seen this happen before. Both scenarios are destructive. Having diversity among nectar plants is critical, but even with this, it still decreases the available nectar impacting population sizes and potentially health.

Large Storm is Destructive

We did have a good storm the third week of February. It rained 2.25″ in a few hours. This was enough to over run roads, creek banks and surge in a destructive way. Some of the tin panels I use along the fence line to block the openings across the creeks from cattle got disconnected and moved downstream. The force of the water surge on Odom Creek actually tore the bottom wire apart, snipped it right in half, tearing the tin off and floating it downstream. Fortunately, I found all the panels that were torn off. David and I will reattach them. They need to be in place to prevent the cows from accessing my oak seedlings and other plantings.

Slate Gulch Rd over run, but not washed out

The surge also twisted up vegetation on the fence lines. Sadly, I found the young willow I had been so excited to see. She was ripped out of the ground, roots and all, taken downstream and deposited near the fence line where I found her on her side. I lifted her upright after scratching a pathetic, shallow hole with my foot. I did not have a shovel with me when I went to assess damage, so my foot was all I had. It was not much of a hole since the ground in the creek is rocky and thick. Still, I placed some of her long roots back into the ground, carefully, hoping that they will be resilient and allow her to grow once more. She is a willow after all – strong and prolific.

California Milkweed Emerges!

The California Milkweed has emerged two to three weeks earlier than 2024. I saw the first leaves on Feb 9 this year and noted that last year it was the last week of February.

The cows have been on the hillside with their calves, so I went to check on the plants. I noticed each of the milkweeds had a snip taken out of one leaf; they had been grazed. Most likely, it was a calf testing out the green fuzzy plant. The snips appear to be spit out and located near the plants. Definitely not a tasty meal for anyone except a caterpillar. The plants are growing rapidly, and will be fine. The cows are on the south part of the ranch currently. I will be shutting the gates to the north field in a week before they return, excluding them from the far north field.

Larger 10 days later but snipped from grazing

Grass Nirvana for Cattle

The grass is super lush around the house. Oh, and the cattle are eyeing it every day. Particularly, there is a group of mamas and babies that rotate to the front gate in the afternoon each day to see if I will let them in.

When I have time to watch them, I will let them in for an hour or so to have them help trim the grass without impacting my native plantings. You can see how much they love the verdant blades. They move their heads to the left and right greedily eating without a break. When I can no longer watch them, I usher them out, gently pressuring them to move toward the gate. There are a couple of ladies who never want to leave. They stop to take bites. I have to shift closer. They move, stop again, grab a bite. I move. They move…and so it goes. They snort their disdain, but eventually they kindly acquiesce.

People ask me why I don’t use the dogs to move them out more quickly. The ladies have entered at my invitation. They are helping me, and I respect them. The dogs can be a blunt instrument. I am gentle and precise. We walk out slowly together.

Guzzler Project Moving Forward

With my dad doing better, I have had time to focus on my guzzler projects. The two new tanks were delivered and will feed each guzzler when installed. I had planned to have 1,000 gallon tanks, but the cost was nearly identical to the 1,500 gallon size. It seemed ridiculous not to purchase the larger volume size. With the additional volume, I may also be able to use some of the water for irrigation around the tank area.

In my last post, I mentioned having the second guzzler delivered. With all the main elements here, I am ready to get the materials needed to cover them and link them together. David, my ever patient husband, will be building the overhang structures to cover the tanks and catch the water. The overall concept is for wildlife to have access to clean and abundant water, especially during times of drought. My original guzzler is doing great and a variety of animals have used the water even with the nearby creek still running. We had a good rain year in 2024, so the guzzler stayed filled throughout the summer and fall, but barely. The water really got low and began to get murky. These tanks will allow me to provide ongoing fresh water to wildlife through abundant and lean times.

Odds and Ends

It was a joy to have cold weather and storms, with the most recent one being very large. Water is life, and life is omnipresent and happy when water is around. After the storms, I check my dams to see how they are doing. Everything is holding in place, even my little rock check dam. You see the water, when the creek is running slowly, backing up as intended. I will be placing another dam below that one to slow more water and hopefully spread it out a little to soak the ground and make it more hospitable for oaks.

With water also comes ducks, geese, egrets, herons, mushrooms, mayflies, and green grass. This is such a pretty time of year.

We are generally above the fog line, but every now and then, the fog rolls in. I don’t mind. It keeps the soil moist and the temperatures down. The fog is pretty too.

Sometimes I lay down, listen to the birds, feel the cool ground on my back, smell the air, look at the sky. I did this when I was young, and it was happiness. The key is time – to think, relax, breath and connect. Anyone can do this anywhere, a park, a back yard, a patio with your potted plants.

Joy is possible and necessary even in a time filled with bad news. All we need to do is look around, smell, hear, touch, and especially, feel.

Overalls Back On

It has been a rough ten months months, especially the last few. My father’s illness has become nearly all consuming, now an irregular regular part of my life. For months, my overalls have hung in the guest bathroom, a reminder that I still have other commitments, patiently waiting for me to have time to really dig into work.

Fortunately, at the end of December, life was a little more stable, and I got to slip on my beautiful overalls once again. Ooooo, they felt so good – worn in cotton canvas covering my skin, enveloping me like a human sized garden glove. Those overalls are my absolute favorite piece of clothing.

California Milkweed Seeds Planted

I shuttered with delight as I walked out into the cold air, overalls on, before the sun came up and with all intent to finish planting before the rain began. At a time in the past, one of the biologists told me that there was some evidence that 2 to 3 year old California milkweed seed had higher germination rates. In 2023 and 2024, the seed pods I saved from the ravages of the grasshoppers were intended for planting a year or two or three later. The 2023’s were maintained in a cool, dry, dark place for a nearly 2 years. The 2024’s were were maintained the same, but for just two seasons. I brought them both with me, including my trusty small rake.

I made my way up the steep slope to the California milkweed site to plant seeds. My goal is to expand the number of California Milkweed plants. I want them to spread all the way across the hillside acting as a welcome roadside respite for monarchs, a first or second stop on their great migration. I looked for new spots to plant. Last year, I planted the 2022 California milkweed seeds, and I wanted to avoid those locations. I chose the area of the single plant community near the dead oak. There were many spots near rocks, and along the same belt as the existing plants. I try to emulate what I see in nature hoping it provides a better chance for the seed to establish.

I started out raking the ground open, but quickly decided I needed to get more personal with my work. The gloves came off and the rake set down. It was me and about 300 seeds, many still connected to the fluff they are born with, meant to sail on the wind to spots further from their home. And, further from home they were — about 100 feet. I took off the fluff, made a hole with my finger and planted three to ten seeds per hole – depending on size.

It was so nice to see them after so much time. By this time, they are good friends – family, companions to me inside my home. Every seed is a treasure, embodying the past, present and future all at the same time. We all depend on this seed. When they grow, they will feed bees, flies, beetles, spiders, and yes, monarchs. Those animals will cause their own shift in the ecosystem, ending up causing my and your food to be produced. You cannot avoid being humble in the presence of such importance. All you can do is say, “Chiokoe uttesia weweria. Ne enchi nake.” “Thank you relative. I appreciate you” – and tuck them into the soil that will be their forever home, if we are lucky.

It is a joy to be out on the range in cold weather a light wind blowing. I came without the dogs this day, but I was not alone. The low growl and then pant of the bulls on the ranch, like teenage boys, following the ladies around, trying to get their attention. What entertainment – watching a bull make such a ruckus! The story unfolded down the hill from me. I watched him lower his head and call out. The ladies ignored him and began to slowly walk away. He followed behind them, hoping for some attention. The hill got too steep I think, because he stopped and she kept on going. Oh so sad. The next time I looked up he was standing alone looking up the hill wondering where the ladies went and why they were not totally impressed. Don’t feel bad; they will eventually get together and a new tranche of babies will dot the hillside.

The birds also keep me company. Their songs are beautiful, but they also serve as an alarm for me. I know when they stop singing the weather is about to get bad. I am, after all, racing against the weather to plant these seeds. I want them to be in moist soil so they have what they need to begin to grow when the weather gets warmer and the soil heats. I start to see drops on my leg and on the bags. The drops come and go. It isn’t until the birds stop singing that I decide it is time to go. The rain is coming down steadily. The seed bags are soaked. I didn’t get a chance to plant the 2024s, but all the 2023s are safely tucked in. Mission accomplished. I head back home.

Narrowleaf Milkweed Planted

Since early 2024, I’ve had a 40lb bag of narrowleaf milkweed seeds. My intent was to plant them all last winter. I was was able to get about 1/3rd into the ground, but I ran out of time. With the rains taking a break in late December 2024, I made plans to seed the riparian exclosure areas. It had been some time since I was in the mid-section of the ranch. It was a joy to be out there on the creek. Over two days, rake in hand, I was able to plant the entire stretch of Spring Creek, even beyond the exclosure, and the entire stretch of Odom Creek inside the exclosure. Fun, but I now have a stiff neck!

I changed the type of planting sites to, hopefully, give the seeds different opportunities to establish. The existing milkweed on Odom Creek I have found just off the main area of the water flow, but in the creek bed. I have also seen the showy milkweed I planted thrive up higher on the creek bank. With this observational experience, I chose a variety of locations up and down the stream, closer and further away from the water, uphill and downhill, in disturbed areas and in areas with existing grass growth, next to rocks, away from rocks, in sandy soil, in clay and in loam. I hope something will establish!

I also tried a couple new things in the Spring Creek site. There was an area where the cattle had trampled wet earth, many wet holes, ridges and the like. I used the holes in the disturbed ground as moist areas to plant in, then I raked the area smooth again with the seeds within the soil. We will see…

On my walk up stream, I found a few cowpies in the creek. This is not good. It adds significant organic matter/nutrients into the water, which promotes algae blooms when the temperatures warm, diminishing the water quality. I scraped some earth up the bank, put seed in, covered it lightly, then took the cow pie out of the water and placed it on top of the seeds. I got this idea from a California Association of Resource Conservation District conference session in December. It was a session on oak recruitment on rangeland with Kurt Vaughn and Alex Palmerlee. One of the tools they used in providing nutrients to acorn plantings was a slurry of cowpie and water. The audience could not stifle their amusement as the guys discussed the delight they had in mixing cow poo with water to make a mulch. Definitely gross to some. If it works better, what an abundant resource on ranches.

Acorn Gathered for Tree Planting

While I did not have time to gather acorn for flour making, I did have a chance to gather about 200 for planting across the ranch. I harvested from the grand old oak near the house and the smaller oaks in the Spring Creek riparian area. I am planning to do a combination of seedlings (16), and the rest will be plantings of acorn. I do not want a repeat of last year when the grasshoppers ate all my back-breaking work.

Storms Bring a New Guest

During the December storms, a new guest showed up that I’ve never seen here before. It was a pigeon. The pigeon had bands on its legs, so we knew it belonged to someone. Every time we tried to get close to look at the bands, it would fly away from us. David built it a roosting box and attached it to the underside of the carport. I made it a little bed. It stayed with us a week. At first, it roosted on the truck under the carport. Then, when we were working outside and had the garage open, it decided the garage was better and roosted on the ceiling beams. At dusk, the bird would perch on the gutter outside my office window and stare at me. I would come outside, and it would fly to in front of the garage door. It was saying, “Hey lady! Open the door so I can roost for the night.” It was really neat at first, but then we saw the piles and piles of poop on the vehicles, patio and in the garage. After the bird stayed several days after the storms were over, David felt it was getting too comfortable. He hatched a plan to see if it really wanted to stay or if it was just being a bit slow going back home. The plan was to prevent it from roosting inside to see if it went back to roosting under the carport. The pigeon didn’t stay. It decided to go home – or find another temporary housing situation. We are definitely suckers for animals, so it is probably good it didn’t stay.

Catching Up – So Much More Accomplished

In addition to the seed planting, I have also gotten more plants from Ron Allen at Mariposa Native Plant to install. With the help of David, we set up another game camera. It was super fun to climb a tree. In the end, we decided a fallen tree trunk was the better view. The cell signal is not the best there, so we may yet move it again.

The new guzzler for the back of the ranch also arrived last week. It will help make water available to wildlife when/if the creeks run dry. They have been extremely helpful to wildlife during the late summer and early fall times when water is not as plentiful. We have gotten some fun photos of visitors to the guzzler. My favorite design element is the built in ramp. This way, no one drowns.

As noted in the passage above about narrowleaf planting, an oak branch had fallen on my exclusion fencing. The storm had also knocked down some branches and trees across the neighbor’s section of the cattle road. David and I ended up doing a bit of chainsaw work too.

I worked with a few Tribes and Indigenous led organizations over the last month. I volunteered with the Southern Sierra Miwuk Nation to install plants for their massive restoration work on a village site. In November, members of the Tubatulabal Tribe (Eastern Kern), including Tribal Chairman Robert Gomez came to Catheys Valley to pick up their Xerces Habitat Kits. The kits were generously picked up and stored at a friend’s farm, Raw Roots Farm, so the Tribe did not have to drive so far north to pick them up. The Tribe is undertaking a major restoration effort themselves and wanting to start a farm to feed their people.

Finally, the 108 blue oaks from Butte County acorn arrived for California Open Lands, a nonprofit led by Mechoopda Tribe member Ali Menders-Knight. I had ordered them last year for my restoration efforts, but when a catastrophic fire burned through their lands in Butte County, I knew that those seedlings were for them. The acorn came from grandmother trees in that area, and would now need to head home to heal the land. How serendipitous.

David places a later to help me get into the tree

Tending the Monarch Habitat Plots

Every year, I think I am going to trim grasses early and place coir pads around the monarch plants so that I can find them in spring and not mow over the baskets. I never do. BUT, this year is different. I got to at least one plot already, and I am staged up to do the others. For the plants whose roots run, like milkweed, I will remove the coir pads close to emergence time to allow for more plant material to emerge.

In working in the plots, I am finding that many of the plants are dead. The grasshopper killed them, and my hopes that there may be some vestige of life are dashed. I am seeing some come back, but the majority, so far, are gone.

Using my trimming tool to cut the grass from around the baskets

Weather is Too Warm

It may seem wonderful to some, but the weather is far too warm. After part of December had rain and cold temperatures, the weather shifted to warm days, cold nights and no rain. This is extremely concerning. Things I have never seen are occurring. I found a gopher snake on the patio. It is usually too cold for them to ambulate. Flies are in the house. A marigold, verbena plant and goldenrod are in bloom. They are fall weather flowers. A broad leaf milkweed is still alive. The lupine are already up. I am used to them emerging in February or March. There has been almost no frost on the ground. We need that to kill some bugs, like grasshopper larvae, to maintain balance. I saw an adult grasshopper in December. Terrifying. Life needs to sleep, and the deep cold helps facilitate that. We need winter.

Random

For every hour I spend outside, I am inside two. Not only do I spend hours at my computer writing this blog, I have to work on ag reports for the county, water rights reports for the state. I am so behind in implementing grants I have for water storage and tree planting projects, and I need to get the materials and supplies together for those. David and I went to check on the site of the second guzzler. We had to go through a forest of downed branches to get there, which made me remember I also wanted to plan a prescribed fire in my enclosed areas. There is so much planning, research and writing.

As I always say, I am not complaining. It is an honor to be a land steward and to get to work on this land every day. It is such emotional and sacred work for me that I often write about my feelings, or stories of something that happened. It was a tremendous honor to be asked to write an essay for the new book, Roots and Resilience: California Ranchers in Their Own Words (Nevada Press). I also submitted a piece that was accepted for inclusion in Zine Magazine, a publication of the Women, Food and Agriculture Network. Both are available for sale. For those that love to read, or love stories of nature, these are really wonderful books filled with good stories and creative writing. Full disclosure, I receive no financial benefit from the sale of these books. I am recommending them to you because they truly are good and interesting reads.

Wanderings

My thoughts have turned to Los Angeles County every day – the people, animals, the land, sky and water. David and I have many friends who live in the area, and some are evacuated. My heart breaks for the entire situation.

There have been many messages sent to us by our planet – like the disappearance of the monarch butterfly happening now from our western life, the erasure of towns, cities under water, pandemics, our children being born with lower lung capacity and having diseases at younger ages and at higher rates, such as diabetes, asthma, colorectal cancer. We are not well.

It has long perplexed me why as a species we are so willing to trade the beauty of this land, the health of the water and air we need to live, the songs of birds, animals and insects that bring us joy, and even the very lives of our children for extreme convenience, to preserve the ability to amass wealth and power for a handful of humans. Where is it that the values our grandparents taught us were lost? Why is it we are so willing to be sick? Where did we lose site of the real treasure, of what is truly important?

As I care for my father, and see him struggle to be well, it makes so clear the importance of how one lives life and the joy we find in the most simple things. I was raised in a good way by parents who wanted to be better than their parents, who themselves wanted to be better than their parents. I am grateful for their teachings and those of my grandfather. Low consumption, care for all things, no waste, fight for what is right, simple is ok, you don’t have to be conventional, dancing is joy and many others.

Let’s each of us do our part to help all of our relatives – the two legged, the winged, the ones with fins, the four-legged, everyone. They need us; we need them. We all need one another.

Everything is Gone

We knew it was going to be a bad year this year when the grasshopper nymphs would bounce up like a solid wave with each step across the fields. There are billions of them, and I am powerless to do anything about it. The time to plan was several months ago, but I didn’t. I didn’t have time or energy to build screen houses and boxes. It is not an insignificant task – so I resigned myself to the possibility that my beautiful pollinator gardens throughout the ranch would be no more. What I did not expect is that they would also consume the oak seedlings that I painstakingly planted across the front of the ranch. That made me crumple inside.

Oldest and strongest oak seedling stripped

David raced to build me a few screen boxes last week. For him, they take about 3 hours each – much too long to build enough to save plants. In the end, he built two – one with plastic screen and one with metal screen. He used what we had for the window screens. Unfortunately, as you can see in the image above, the plastic is not durable. The hoppers can eat through them. We tried to save a sage, a narrowleaf and two other nectar plants. The purple sage nearly died last year. I figured if it was not covered, it might not live through another ravenous incursion. The narrow leaf is the largest, most mature. Last year, the monarchs chose this one and a few others on which to lay their eggs. I am trying to have something for the monarchs when they come back. The other two nectar plants will likely get eaten. There is no box to hold the structure. The screens are pinned around the plants and thus, open to being shifted by the hoppers. It will likely just slow down the inevitable. I am not sure what I will have by September for monarchs to feed on — maybe tarweed and seep monkey flower if I am lucky.

We are still watering. The roots are alive, and will need strength to make it through this onslaught.

I am loathe to post photos of before this plague. It hurts to see the beauty of this place. I worry about all the bees that used these plants for food and lodging. What will become of them? It is important to see all the life these plants supported before they were ripped to shreds. Again – all of the plants below are now gone.

Milkweed – a Race to Save the Seed Pods

I have been traveling for work much of April and May. As the hoppers continued their death march, all I could do was hope from afar that it would not be as bad as I thought. Over the phone, David would prepare me for the worst. “Hey HB”, he would say. “Don’t freak out, ok? The grasshoppers are taking everything down. Expect that when you get home.” Guilt would creep into my dreams. I was not around to protect the California Milkweed seed pods. When I returned in early June, I ran to the close plot to gather seedpods. To my horror, most of the plants, seedpods and all, were completely gone. Stems were stripped. Please understand that this is early. Last year and the year before, the hoppers did not decimate things until late June and July when the pods were more mature. I thought I had time. Operating off this data, it shocked me to see the California Milkweed like this. My stomach sank as I ran from corpse to corpse looking for any sign of seedpods. I was going off location memory as some places only the absolute bottom of the stems were left. Luckily, I found a few with pods remaining.

It was getting hot, and I was running over the unshaded hillsides. I moved as quick as I could up the steep slope to the large section of California Milkweed. I did not expect to find much – but – to my joy and surprise, several of the older large plants were still intact. And…two had a large number of seed pods. With relief, I harvested them to continue my work of spreading their seed when it was safe.

In all, I gathered 13 pods. I left three immature pods on one stem, and will go back for them in a few days. They might have a chance – but they really were not ready to be pulled off.

Abundance in the Creeks

The last few weeks I took several biologists and a documentary filmmaker (Ian Nelson) across the ranch to showcase some of the stewardship work we have been doing. While in the riparian areas, we were able to witness an abundance of buckeye butterflies, great nectar plants, and a new cottonwood seedling. Shockingly, however, the grasshoppers are in the creeks as well. This is highly unusual. They tend to avoid wet places, and the creeks are still flowing with plenty of water. One biologist thought cattle got into the exclusion areas and ate the plants in the creek. I said, “No, this is grasshopper devastation.” She looked closer and saw the filigree in leaves and stems from a billion little mouths taking bites. She was shocked. As such, even in the excluded areas, there is no seep monkey flower, datura, or other riparian broadleaves. Even the thistle is eaten. Fortunately, the buckeye trees were still in bloom and a few other species had blossoms. As we approached some intact plants, we saw a diversity of native bees, including bumbles. My heart swelled. Now I knew that the bumbles had a place to find food. Phew!

Beautiful Reciprocity

Prior to the destruction, I had the honor to go to New Mexico twice for tribal events. The first time, I went to learn about riparian restoration at the Santa Clara Pueblo – the Poeh. We planted 100 trees and plants on their tribal lands after learning from their work.

My second trip was incredible, having been invited to present a case study on my pollinator work to a pollinator tribal summit at the campus of the Insititute of American Indian Arts (IAIA). Shana, the Southern Sierra Miwuk Nation Pollinator Coordinator, was invited as well. She presented and did an excellent job. There were US government agency leaders and over 15 tribes working on or wanting to start some type of pollinator habitat work. It was an incredible opportunity and experience. I met so many passionate people and enjoyed the beautiful weather of Santa Fe.

I also attended a ceremony of remembrance for the ancestors slaughtered at the Tubatulabal Tribe on their recently returned lands in April. It was moving. They are working to restore the lands to traditional uses. They want the ducks back, which is the meaning of their name – people of the mud duck. To bring ducks back you need water and insects. I helped them complete their application for a Xerces riparian habitat kit and learned in May that they had been awarded the grant. So grateful to Xerces for this habitat kit program and to the Tutbatulabal Tribe for everything they are doing to live in right relationship with the land.

I am also involved in the California Jobs First initiative and was recently appointed to the California State Fair Board. In all places, I am hoping to ensure an Indigenous perspective is at the table informing decisions – and hopefully, helping resources move to Indian Country, which has, for far too long, suffered from significant under-investment.

To be given guidance, opportunity, learning – they are gifts. They help advance my ability to be of service in this climate changing world. As such, I need to ensure I use these gifts to provide a benefit, to be helpful in a meaningful way – not a way that just I want, but a way that serves a greater good. This is reciprocity.

Don’t Get Down – Get Planting

As the landscape around the house is converted from blooms to straw, I made plans to continue to build habitat in Sacramento. While on a trip, I met Brenda Marsh. As people do, we discussed our work and involvements. When she learned about the severe decline in insects and pollinators, she asked if I would help her make a pollinator garden at her home. Of course I said yes! She lives in Sacramento. Since she is busy working and travels quite a bit, she does not have much landscaping – mostly an unwatered crabgrass lawn and some beautiful trees.

I did a little planning figuring out where the plants would go and in what configuration, and then I asked Ron Allen at Mariposa Native Plants what he had available. In the end, we got 20 plants, seven milkweeds and thirteen nectar plants. I convinced David to help me (I told him there was a great lunch in the deal for him). He is great with irrigation systems. David pulled together some irrigation supplies and off we went.

Much of Brenda’s neighborhood is sterile with lush green lawns and some exotic nectar plants. Still, while we were working there, we saw a big yellow swallowtail butterfly and a white sulfur fly by. Two blocks up and around the corner, there is a house with a wonderful native plant garden. It was bursting with life. This meant that there would be some nice islands pollinators could hop to without fear of pesticide and herbicide use. In all, it took about 4 and a half hours, not counting travel time. Thanks to Brenda for being part of the solution!

My next plan is to help a lady in Clovis plant a large pollinator garden within her nine acres. I met her on the plane on my way back from Santa Fe. She had no idea about the horrific decline in pollinators and was anxious to do something. These are examples of why we need to be talking about this work, what is happening in the world and that there are solutions people can be a part of. Media is great, but the person to person connection is most effective. Those relationships are durable treasures that can spark incredible change. We need to be connected to one another and in reciprocal relationship with the earth now more than ever.

100th Post

It’s early Sunday morning. The sun is not up. I’ve been up doing chores, feeding animals, opening windows to allow the cool air, laden with scent, into the house. It is barely light, getting lighter. The birds start to sing. First one chirp, which leads to two then it all begins. I step into my boots, dogs at my heels and head out – pulled, then lightly pushed by the cool air now gently swirling in the house.

The ground is soaked from the dew. My boots collect the moisture along with leaves and purple pedals from the thousands of small flowers, close to the earth, lining my path. I check the milkweeds. They are stretched into the air bolstered by days of sun as they break through the invasive grasses that block the light. I examine the space to see if more are there. They are, and I breath, grateful for the resilience of these plants.

Heading down the hill with the symphony of birdsong the nectar of those thousands of flowers hits me. The grass nut flowers, tall with trumpeted light purple petals in a starburst formation cover the hillside. Among them are hints of dark purple, tall and narrow larkspur. Yellow Mariposa lilies are beginning to dot the hillside – more than I’ve ever seen here. The popcorn flower has nearly abated making room for more purples, filaree and small lupine – the large ones almost ready to burst.

As I get closer to the drainage, the temperature turns cooler, a function of the cold water that soaks the earth and continues to trickle. Walking along the drainage there is more larkspur, orange fiddle neck and now some new yellow seep monkey flower. The birdsong is penetrated by the flap of wings. A single bird flies overhead. Even though it is small, it is quiet enough to hear the displacement of the air with each flap. This is why the morning is magic.

I cross the swale pond and walk into the grove. The bullfrogs floating on the water surface dive beneath the murk, and those on the banks give a chirp as they jump into the water. The nectar scent is replaced by the sweet smell of wet bark and earthen musk. With every step, I stir up more smells of wet soil. The oaks are green, and full of leaves, which I hope portends of a mass of yummy acorn in the Fall. They look happy as I examine the check dams. The soil is still moist in the drainage fork. Good. The water is still running in the spring creek with some nice deep holes. Good. I note invasive thistle growing in my mini wetland and make a mental note to bring the weed eater down there later. With my mother-in-law, I planted milkweed seed. I am hoping to make this new sedimented area more diverse, not just a thicket of Italian thistle. Thistle is nectar rich, and the pollinators love it. There thousands of stalks allover the ranch. Taking out this little section will not impact nectar availability. I hope to get a glimpse of the quail I saw the other day, but I don’t. It is too early for some.

I exit the grove to check the open section of the spring creek. My boots are wet up to mid calf. Despite the work of the cows, the grass has grown taller with last week’s rain. The first section of creek is still running, filled with grass and small, open stands of water. More seep monkey flowers emerge. About halfway down the open section of creek the water stops. I hear the last drips into a small pool just downstream of my old, small, rock check dam. The flow is underground now. It leaves a creek bed of moist soil the rest of the way to my property line.

As I veer back to the trail, turning west now on the open grassland, the sun is up over the east mountains and hits my back. The warmth is a familiar hand across my back comforting me as I walk. I notice the humidity now, so thick. The full force of nectar is back, clinging to the water molecules in the air, which fill my lungs. I think of all those molecules that comprise this Spring cocktail of life and know that my body will know what to do with all the constituent elements as my lungs expand and contract. I breath even deeper now, filling myself with this ancient food.

There are still no raptors, ravens or vultures in the sky. This time is for the songbirds to flit and sing with less concern of being a meal or their eggs being a raven’s meal. I link up with the cattle road and make a turn north, fully surrounded by the large expanse of grassland. I hear the unmistakable song of the meadowlark, deeee, de de de deee, then as the sky brightens, coyotes begin to sing. As I get closer to the driveway, there is the distant rumble of cars on the road, which is a quarter mile away. The sun has woken humans up too. I continue the last leg of my walk, Millie by my side and Beatrix taking the short-cut through the grassy hill. I feel grounded and filled. This walk is a ceremony of connection, an acknowledgement that we are all together, living for one another.

Monarchs Are Back with Babies!

There is no more gratifying symbol of the success of the work here than the habitat being used. This is especially true when monarch caterpillars are present. On Monday, 4/22, I walked the steep hillsides to check on the California Milkweed plots. Fortunately, I had friend and biologist extraordinaire Deedee Soto at the ranch visiting. It was warm that day, even at the end of the day, so we sweated as we made our way up. The first plot, all the plants looked healthy, but there was no evidence of monarch use. We made our way down hill, crossed the drainage, still spongy with water, and then started our ascent. Again, this is a steep slope. Deedee and I walked slowly, taking breaks. Mille and Beatrix were with us, but about halfway up, I turned to say something and did not see Beatrix. Where was she? Evidently, she gave up, went back down to the spongy drainage and laid in the coolness of the grass and soil spectating our ascent. I rolled my eyes, slightly jealous, and the rest of us continued upward.

At the plot, our efforts were rewarded. Six of the 13 plants had caterpillars. I screamed with joy to Deedee. It just came out. Fortunately, she understands and doesn’t think me strange to be so excited about this tiny yellow, black and white creature. Because of Deedee’s high skill, and youthful eyes, we counted 28 caterpillars of varying ages, from the first instar to the third. Caterpillars go through five caterpillar stages, with #5 being the largest, before they transform to chrysalises. Twenty-eight is a great start! There could be more though. Caterpillars are very crafty, having the super power to hide in plain site. Two other plants had evidence of monarch use, but we could not find any caterpillars. I whoo hooed from the hilltop. The monarch mamas had found this patch of California Milkweed a hospitable home once again, trusting this place with their future.

All Oaks Planted

If you are a regular reader of this blog, you may remember that my neighbors, Ric and Kim, are extremely generous, allowing me to use their electric Polaris for my habitat restoration work. Those vehicles are extremely expensive, and we are so grateful for this kindness. It makes life much easier. I was reminded of this last week when Ric had his vehicle back with him for some work, and I was still engaged in blue oak planting. Undeterred, I regressed to using my cart and hand dragging around my tools and plants to continue planting. I got three more blue oaks planted, but goodness, I was sweating.

The good news is that two of the earlier oaks are thriving, and the seedlings I’ve been protecting in the Spring Creek area for 15 years are finally appreciably growing.

Wildflowers and Wildlife

Beautiful small frog on willow root thatch

Fire Keeping

Nellie, the previous Pollinator Program Coordinator for the Southern Sierra Miwuk Nation, attended a traditional cultural gathering the other weekend and educated participants on pollinator plants. She gave the group a packet of milkweed seeds with tobacco and sage as part of the mix. Nellie said that when we planted the seeds we would be making an offering at the same time. I nearly cried I was so proud. I agree. Planting is a sacred act; it is bringing us closer to fulfilling our responsibilities as stewards of where we live and connecting us to place in a way that is intimate. She is keeping the fire of knowledge of traditional practices, values and connection and sharing those with others who are continuing on their road back to a reciprocal relationship with all our relations.

Five Years and Three Months

It has been five years and three months since I read the New York Times article about the plummeted numbers of monarch butterflies. It made me sad and angry that monarchs could very well be lost in my lifetime. I did not want to imagine a west without this beautiful and important native animal. I still remember that day in January when I read that article. I thought, “Ok, I am not willing to let that happen without a fight. What can I do about this?” So, I got to work learning as much as I could about monarchs, their migration, lifecycle, what they needed to survive. I learned who the key organizations were leading the charge and that there, gratefully, was a significant focus on this issue. I knew I had seen monarchs before, but it made me consider how long it had been since I’d seen any at the ranch, or even in town. I went back through photos. It had not been for ten years – not since before the 5-year drought.

The first people I reached out to were the Southern Sierra Miwuk tribal elders. I asked them about the monarchs and the western slope of Mariposa County and what they knew of the populations, plants and timing. I then reached out to some older ranchers to gauge how often they had seen monarchs and what they remembered from their grandparent’s stories. It was clear. The elders shared about times of abundance, with fields of butterflies, including monarchs, all over the milkweeds that particularly grew in the riparian and marshy areas. There were more flowers then and more milkweed to support hungry caterpillars and butterflies. The ranchers told me of less abundance – of having seen them as children, but not as many now. With this information, I knew this area had supported flocks of butterflies, and that it could possibly be that way again – at least Taawe Bwia, my ranch, could be an oasis.

To get plants, I reached out to Mariposa Native Plants (Ron Allen and Bev Andalora). I knew them in the community, and Ron had already been gaining a reputation as a “milkweed whisperer”. From the information I gained online, to Ron and Bev’s knowledge, we created milkweed plots. I started with two diversified plots, and both were ravaged by gophers. I started over, placing the plants in mesh baskets instead of chicken wire cages. That worked, but it was expensive. While I was committed to the project, I could never have scaled it as big as I have without the Mariposa County Resource Conservation District (Melinda Barrett). She was a wealth of knowledge, and I changed the composition and structure of the milkweed plots to “pollinator islands” based on her guidance. She was able to help because there was significant funding from the Wildlife Conservation Board, and the California Association of Resource Conservation Districts, as the intermediary administrator.

I was fortunate to have the thought partnership of Xerces Society partner biologist Deedee Soto, who shares my passion and commitment to conservation work. Truly, without her expertise, I would not have as much success. She is a genius with plants – propagation and ID. At this time, Xerces also began their very useful habitat kits (Thank you to Jessa Kay-Cruz and Angela Laws!). Not only did it provide all the plants needed for a successful pollinator island, it taught people about the plants, bloom timing and diversification. I still have the very first plant list with bloom times. It was such a great resource, and what a great idea.

I received tremendous support from the National Resource Conservation Service (NRCS) John Grimes, Jesse Baum, Prospero, and so many others in the NRCS ecosystem. Farm Advisor Fadzayi Mishari provided input on conservation issues early on in my land stewardship and organized important educational opportunities for the ag community where I was able to learn a great deal.

Point Blue Conservation partner biologist Elena Kromer wrote my first conservation plan. While it took a very long time to get done, she listened carefully to what my concerns were and designed a plan that addressed many of them. This process connected me further into Point Blue, where I was able to join their carbon sequestration and wildlife resources study project and access their Roots grant program (Cati Mong). Also of essential help were the classes and resources from Monarch Joint Venture. They offered the first online class I took that brought me from knowing almost “0” to knowing much more. I was able to take that knowledge and advance it through the Pollinator Partnership Pollinator Stewardship Certification program, where I earned my certification in Summer 2023. Most recently, I was also able to qualify for the California Department of Fish and Wildlife Partners Program with many thanks to biologist Rosie Gonzalez and her colleagues for smoothly navigating me through the process.

Last, but not least, I want to acknowledge my dear family, friends and readers of this blog. My dad, Alan, and dear friend Daniel donated funds early on that helped me purchase more plants and supplies. My mother-in-law Sheila sends me fun butterfly-themed gifts. My brother Vance, and sister Sarah, who actually read this blog early on, encouraged me. My neighbors Ric and Kim who let me borrow their Polaris, and early on Ric helped considerably with fencing labor. My nephew Ashtin and niece Desiree have helped with the branch fence early on. My other mother-in-law, Liz, has helped me work the ranch each visit, planting seeds, digging channels and holes. Dear friends Melanie, Molly and Jen have worked side by side with me to build rock and log check dams. Friends in the community and on social media, readers of this blog who have sent words of encouragement, recommendations, shared knowledge, ignored my typos, and encouraged my writing, you all kept me going especially when I had set-backs. Finally, my beloved spouse, David, who without him nothing is possible. From his emotional support to physical labor, and financial partnership, he has been there for me and this dream of changing the course of monarch survival, to create a place where they can be assured of food and shelter along their epic journey. Chiokoe uttesiavu. Si se enchinakiavu. Thank you. I appreciate you all.

Free T-Shirts?

To commemorate my 100th post, I am having a PolliNative t-shirt giveaway. If you like what we are doing here and want to represent via a beautiful organic cotton shirt with a heartfelt message, here is how:

Make a comment on this blog with no more than three sentences sharing about what you are doing to help our pollinators thrive.
Everyone who submits a comment will be entered into a random drawing for a tee-shirt. They are expensive, so I can only give a handful away.
Comments must be in no later than May 24th.

Thank you, reader, for everything you do to make our planet a healthy place for our children and for all our relations. Si enchi nakiavu (I appreciate you all).

Rain and Gophers Impact Milkweed. Wildflowers. Education. Bumbles. 99th Post -WHAT?!

Popcorn flower in foreground with a kaleidoscope of color beyond

The smell of nectar – that is how I started my previous blog post. It is 10 times as intense now. As I walk, I breath deep, then deeper. I want my all the tissues in my body to remember the scent and oily feel of this sensory gift the plants are giving. They get something too of course – pollination, genetic distribution, a chance to live again next year through their progeny. A life well-lived, whether insect, flower, or mammal, is a life of reciprocity.

Almost daily I make my way up the steep hills to check on the California Milkweed. It has been raining, and I want to see how everything is impacted. I am not entirely sure why, maybe curiosity, for there is very little I can do to help them. Their lives are in nature’s interconnected tendrils, a thatch of inter-dependencies, of which I am just one piece – with agency – but not as effective as I would like.

Breathing deep (and labored from the grade), I finally get to my destination, the large community of plants. There are four things that become immediately clear: 1. something has been here before me. The dogs are sniffing tightly around the milkweed. I get nervous. 2. The leaves look a bit rough from moisture, the delicate, velvet-like fuzz drooped just a little, a dusting of white mildew on the body. 3. Flowers are already beginning to bud. It seems early, but what I have learned over the years is that the CA Milkweeds are truth-tellers, future-readers. I imagine them with their crystal balls beckoning me to sit nearby and listen to a reading of the future. The future they are predicting is a spring done early and longer summer. After all, we only had five days of real winter here – only 5 days the ground frosted over. 4. After my typical count, I finally see it. Plants are missing. I move around the space counting again. There were 10 of 17 at site one. Seven of 11 at site two. One of 1 at site three, and 1 of 2 at site four. There were 10 plants here the other day. I am missing two, no three plants, and I see that there is a new one that has emerged – so technically, there should now be 11. The cows were up there just a week before, but there is no sign of browsing, no trail of pulled stems and leaves remaining from an ill-conceived tasting of a bitter, toxic treat. It doesn’t make sense anyway. With all the thick, delicious, moisture-rich grass, there is no compulsion to try something that smells of bitterness. Among the missing is one of the largest, oldest plants. I get on my hands and knees to look closer. I see a hole. The gophers got them. What kind of gophers are these? They like the thick, bitter milk of the milkweed, the dense poison of the root? Before my heart sinks, I see one small leave still there. It’s adjacent leaf is bit off at the stem, but nonetheless one leaf and stem has survived.

One thing I have learned is that these plants are resilient and fast growers when the conditions are right. There are two large mature plants that can be egg-laying sites for monarchs. Remember, monarchs are choosy. They like to lay eggs on plants that are more mature, so there is sufficient food for their brood. There are others still emerged and growing. The rain and cool temps have slowed them, but it has also slowed the migration of the monarchs. It has given special time for the crotch bumble bee to make a meal of the emerging flowers before more hungry competition arrives. Then, the other plants, impacted but not dead will bloom and sprout, replacing the leaves and stems of the earlier sprouted mature plants after they are eaten by ravenous caterpillars. There is a wonderful balance to everything, and I have, we all have, our roles.

Education

Giving and receiving is how balance is created. You learn. You try. You teach what you learn from trying. I have shared how remarkable Shana, the Southern Sierra Miwuk Nation Pollinator Program Coordinator, is. She has a natural affinity and relationship with plants. The tribe has been doing a great job of offering cultural education classes for tribal members and other Indigenous residents. A couple weeks ago, Shana was a presenter on plant propagation at an Indigenous botany class. She presented with Jeanette Acosta who discussed the uses of pine. It was an outstanding program. Shana and Jeanette did a great job, and I learned so much. It is wonderful to see her learning and teaching.

Showing where to cut plants for propagation

A group of us also attended a workshop at UC Davis on traditional tule stewardship and its relation with limiting bug-borne diseases. It was fascinating. The presenters were Diana Almendariz, Maidu-Wintun natural and cultural history expert, and Geoffrey M. Attardo PhD, professor at UC Davis. It was one of the best presentations I have ever been to – a Sunday well-spent!

Diana with daughter Christina demonstrating weaving a tule mat. They were incredible!

This month, Shana and I will be attending a tribal pollinator co-management workshop in Santa Fe where we will learn and share. It was a tremendous honor to be invited to contribute and connect. I am looking forward to learning and building a larger network of stewards across the land. I have an additional trip to Santa Fe for a restoration workshop. We will be learning from Santa Rosa Pueblo people and others about their stewardship work and learning through helping.

Frogs, Toads, Birds, Bumbles and Butterflies

There is so much wildlife. The small brownish-white butterflies are all over the wildflowers. I saw the first painted lady, a pair actually, yesterday. There are more large bumble bees around than I have seen in over a decade. They are flying from flower to flower and then directly at me, sending me the message that I need to leave their food zone. I try to get a photo before I heed their wishes, but they are moving too fast. I leave and go back to my office to work. The songs of hundreds of birds blend beautifully each day outside my office window. Adding to their chorus are the chirps of frogs, toads and grasshoppers. The music is joyful. Chiokoe uttesiavu weweriam (Thank you relatives)!

Wildflowers Abound

These flowers are a lifeline for so many creatures. They are only possible because of water. So far, we have had just over 16″ of rain, spread well over the rain year, not in a few big gushers. This is just above average precipitation for Hornitos, and follows an abundant rain year. It has been pleasant to see this “normal” distribution of moisture, growth and blooming. I was concerned the milkweed and other flowers might be damaged by last weeks cold storm. They weren’t. We did not get snow, but the snow was close to our elevation making for beautiful views. I would have loved a snow storm like last year in January or February. Snow helps slow things down and distribute water slowly.

3 miles down the road at higher elevation

More Oaks Planted

My mother-in-laws were visiting again, which provided a wonderful opportunity for another set of hands to plant the oak trees. We planted four together along the drainages. Although I use the existing pattern of oak trees as a guide for where to plant, I am concerned that the soil in one of the drainages is a little too clay-like. One of the biologists once told me that trees can change an entire system if they take root by bringing up moisture, shading soil with their canopy and bringing more types of life to an area. Everything I do is an experiment based on logic and observation. The plants and land know where they can survive, where they should be. My role is to help them survive by watering during their initial first two years of life in a changing climate. If they make it through, my role then becomes one of monitoring and maintenance.

While oak planting, I also brought dried elderberry seed to plant. Last year, I gathered elderberry from an old grove near the Tuolumne River to help the Southern Sierra Miwuk have enough stock for an elderberry syrup making class and for elders. I saved a little for me and dried some seed for planting this year. We will see if there is enough moisture to make this plant happy. I planted them near the small spring.

My 99th Post!

Whew – 99. I am on the edge of triple digits. The next post will be a celebration and reflection. I continue to be astonished by this journey, the wonderful plants, animals, insects, amphibians and humans that I meet. It has been a huge amount of work, but I am grateful everyday for this opportunity to steward – even if my back, shoulders, feet, legs and arms are sore. It is worth every ice pack!

My Fourth PolliNative Monarch Season Begins With Emergence of Ca. Milkweed

Take a deep breath. Release. The air is now thick with nectar. The sweet smell is hanging on the moisture molecules of humidified air. With it, comes the scent of grass, freshly grown, and a hint of oak bark still moist from the rains. I hope you can imagine this smell of spring. It invigorates me and lets so many other nature relatives know the time to emerge is near.

Drinking with my nose, walking up the 60% grade hill to the California Milkweed plots, I begin to look down wondering if my favorite plant has made its way up from underground life. It took a little searching, but I found them early last week, the soft, velvety leaves of A. Californica. I expected to perhaps find emergence on the three most mature plants, but I found a fourth as well. In finding the fourth surprise plant this early, I am feeling like things are continuing to heal, expand, and thrive.

The cattle are toward the end of their rotation on the south side of the ranch. They will be on the north side soon for 2 weeks. If I see signs of monarch usage, I will shut the new gates to the far north field. What a relief! I won’t need to stress about protecting the plants this year. Thank you to John Grimes and the National Resource Conservation Service (NRCS)!

Monitoring Rock and Log Check Dams

We have significant sediment build up behind even the smallest of check dams. Plants are beginning to take root creating a new habitat – from running water to a marshy water filter of plants and sediment that did not exist before. I get to play in the water too, so it is not all work. I added another small rock check dam even further down the drainage to continue the slowing process and make a wide spot that may be supportive of an arroyo willow. I am still considering whether I will plant one there. The water needs of the willows are considerable, even the ones adapted to this drier climate.

Planting More Oaks and Seeding

I am continuing to plant oaks, albeit slowly. The seedlings have green sprouts, so I am going to try to hurry and get them into the ground. Of course, the day I went to plant a couple, the cows were loafing with their babies nearby. I try not to disturb them too much. They look so comfortable and peaceful when they are lying on the ground, taking in the sun or languidly chewing cud. The babies can spook easy, and that can get the entire group alerted. More than the economics of running fat off them, I simply want to respect their peace if I can. As such, it makes more sense to park the vehicle and walk my tools and plants the remaining distance.

The first seedling, I plant in the exclosure near the area where the healthy oak fell over last year. That will be a good place with ample water. I place the tree very straight slightly higher up the hill from the up-turned rootball. For the second seedling, I choose a place near the grinding rock among the skeletons of old trees but near enough to living trees. It is another area near the water with shade and light. I say a prayer for each, welcoming them home and a wish for their wellness.

Mushrooms and Wildflowers

Fungi doing their job of recycling a dead snag

Bees

When the sun comes out, we are seeing some significant bee action. Honeybees, a cute silver native bee taking a nap, and fuzzy silver bumble bees have presented themselves. There were some viceroy butterflies just the other day. They are large and orange, so very exciting to see. They move too fast and don’t stay long. It is rare that I get a good look at them let alone a photo.

A very special guest made an appearance twice – a rough legged hawk. They live in the arctic north and fly south for the winter. Mariposa County is near the absolute south portion of their range. According to bird resources and my Stokes bird book, it is rare to see them this far south. I am thanking all the water for staying here and making a compelling habitat for some remarkable raptors this year, including a bald eagle the other day.

Rough-legged hawk getting ready to hover

Stewardship is Not all Outdoor Work

As much as I would like to say that stewardship work is 90% outdoors, it isn’t. I spend probably 70% of my time researching products, information, other programs, funding opportunities, reading articles, writing reports, writing grants, making connections, responding to questions (on email, blog, Facebook, Instagram, on Pollinator Partnership and Women for the Land dedicated communities), planning projects, performing data entry, sifting through photos, following up on conversations, supporting networks, ordering supplies, attending meetings/conferences, traveling to meetings/conferences and writing this blog. For this section, I will show some pictures of me out and about, which I am super uncomfortable with. I am not a selfie person (no judgement on others, just not me), but they are important to the story of this work. I’ve had to get used to it. Please bear with me.

In just the past three weeks, I attended the California Rangeland Conservation Coalition Summit, Community Alliance with Family Farmers Tech Expo in Madera, Xerces Pollinator Program, Native American Fish & Wildlife Society Pollinator Working Group, met with the Farm Advisor, met with NRCS, and attended my last Sierra Nevada Conservancy Board meeting as a board member. There is so much great information to know, people to see and connect with, and input (you hope is helpful) to provide. There is much more to be involved in that is worth my time; I just don’t have the time at this point. I am feeling pretty maxed out.

Dave captures me first thing in the morning, cat in lap, hair a mess, at the computer

At the rangeland summit, I finally meet in person two extraordinary women – Nancy and Susie Calhoun. With their other sister, they conserved their large family ranch in Livermore and continue to protect it and make habitat for all the life that exists there. HEROES!!

I saw Fadzayi Mashiri, our Farm Advisor, at the Summit as well. We made a plan for her to visit the ranch. It had been a long time since she was last here. She provided some great recommendations to improve on what I was doing and was one of the people early, early on who helped me think through improvements to this land. HERO!!

SNC Wrap-Up: Bittersweet

My final meeting as a board member of the Sierra Nevada Conservancy (SNC) was last week. California Governor Gavin Newsom appointed me to this role in 2021. I have enjoyed being on the board, working with good people both on staff and as board colleagues. I appreciated the opportunity to learn about forest stewardship and rural community resilience. I learned about the State budget process, which is wildly complex. As the first culturally Indigenous person to sit on that board, I also appreciated the opportunity to ask questions about representation of Tribal governments and Indigenous led organizations, about how inclusive and equitable funds are being distributed, about why some projects call for herbicides, and trail safety and careful placement with regard to Indigenous needs. Safe, inclusive, carefully planned projects make the outdoor experience for all life better.

My last day was bittersweet –sweet in that I am leaving to deeply focus on natural resources, climate and tribes, bitter in that I absolutely love working with the entire staff of the SNC. The staff are so accomplished, professional, competent and devoted to their mission to restore and enhance the extraordinary natural resources and communities of California’s Sierra-Cascade region, while protecting them from wildfire and a changing climate. It has been such a privilege to serve the public, rural communities (which I love), the Newsom Administration and be a voice for my nature relatives. I will miss this work and all of the people.

A special ribbon skirt Jakki made for me to wear. It tells a story about the land I live with

Wanderings

Even though I am busy every day, I never lose sight of how grateful I am for the opportunities that have come my way to serve, help, make a living, and be a land steward. To know you make a difference is a gift, and it is a gift everyone can access. Whether you plant milkweed where there is none, sit on an advisory committee or board in your community, organize with others to make good, helpful change, you make a difference. Step into life, take opportunities with good intent, be a hero for a butterfly, bumble bee, forest or community. You got this!