blue oak forest restoration

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.

Adding a New Initiative

Dead blue oak tree and great habitat for bats, birds and many other species

It happened on Thursday, and I saw it too. I was walking my route checking all the log and rock dams when there was a popping sound. The dogs looked to the northeast, so I did too. I didn’t see anything. The sound was not immediately identifiable, and I continued walking. When I was at the edge of the grove, the sound came down the drainages. It was a loud crack. Oh shit. Fear sent adrenaline through every channel in my body all at once. The dogs looked back in the direction from which we came and took off running full speed to investigate. It was clear the sound was well behind me. My body eased. I swung around just in time to hear another crack, and then thud. I caught sight of the branch of a long dead, once magnificent, tall blue oak drop to the ground. The dogs realized the seriousness, and ran even faster back to me. It was a jolting reminder for me to be extremely careful and vigilant as I walk the range, reading the trees and never going under branches that are angled down towards the ground.

Turning tail to head back full speed (two dots at the end of the green. Oak is the gray tree behind the dog on the right, through the branches in the foreground)

We had a doozie of a storm four nights ago, with .75″ of rain and wind so ferocious, my kelpie Millie was trembling against my body, unable to sleep. With the rain and wind, it is almost guaranteed that the trees will be impacted. Branches loosened from bark and trunk through death and drought are vulnerable to the moisture and wind. Gravity then finishes the job, dropping the large, tortuous branches, and sometimes entire trees, to the ground. It can be very dangerous.

How did the ranch get this way? I try not to take it personally. I have lived on this land for 21 years. Since that time, we have lost almost 300 blue oaks. Some, I think, were at their expiration date, but most have been pressured by drought. Leading up to the 5-year drought that began in 2011, I noticed the loss of several grand old trees down slope from the house. However, it was not until 2016, the year just after the 5-year drought that entire hillsides, ridges and even some near the creek died. It was a horror. I did not know what to do. I called experts, who looked for signs of disease. There was none. They were perplexed, but they were just learning as well that this was happening all over California. It brought me some small bit of comfort to know it was not something I was doing to cause their deaths. Still, I was distraught at their loss and anxious to learn more about what could be done.

A New Passionate Work

Given the recent blue oak die-off, I am committing to now work hard toward restoring some of the population of blue oaks that died. I understand that there is not sufficient moisture to sustain replacing the oaks 1:1. I am proposing to restore a portion of them, probably close to 1/3rd of the lost oaks. This means I will need to plant at least 120 seedlings, anticipating that some will not make it. I will need to continue to protect the seedlings in the creek banks – hoping they will grow more. As I have reported in this blog, three I’ve been protecting for 10 years, before the riparian exclusion fence, have stayed nearly the same size all those years. With the groundwater recharge work I am doing and adding some trenching work around oak planting areas, I am hoping that I can retain enough moisture to help bring some baby blue oaks to maturity.

My plan: I have already ordered 103 oaks for next year, and have received 22 to plant for this year. Holes will need to be dug close to 18″ deep to loosen the soil and make space for the 18″ cages, with 6″ of the 18″ of cage being above ground to deter overland gophers, etc. About 92 of the seedlings will be planted in special cages. Ron Allen of Mariposa Native Plants conceived of a stiff gauge cage with a soft pine base that has small holes in it. The holes allow for water flow but mostly for oak roots to penetrate. The soft pine will degrade quickly allowing for the tap root to get bigger without any pressure. The cages will be able to be removed after a few years or will degrade over time. The other 28 seedlings will be planted either near the creeks where there are less gophers or using 15 gallon mesh shields. New seedlings outside the exclosure area will get 3×4 fencing around them to protect from cattle and a coconut pad around the planting site to discourage grass competition. Inside the exclosure will be coconut pads, some cages depending on proximity to the creek, but no extra fencing. Those planted outside the exclosure area will have some trenching dirt work done to help contain run off and retain moisture.

Fortunately, I have some NRCS funding that will help cover the costs. There will likely be significant cost overage with the dirt work, which I will need to cover. I also have a Partners grant through Fish and Wildlife, but it is limited. Because all of these government funds pay you after the work is done, I will need to float this project from my personal money for a year. I almost always need to cover planning, reporting and labor costs personally despite any grant funds. This is why, when I work at a large scale, it has to be a passion project. I have to be willing to spend my own money.

It is important to share how all of this work gets funded, because it is part of the challenge but also shows the changing nature of the Farm Bill and other government policies that have been trending more and more to support of these critical efforts. We need support for butterflies, trees, groundwater recharge and so much more to build resilient ecosystems in the face of climate change. We need to pay people for their time to do this work. It produces jobs, connects people with one another, protects communities and puts money into local businesses. What I do on my ranch impacts my community, my region and beyond. What you do in your yard, on your patio, what you buy, how you travel, what you wear, it all matters. You make a difference. Work like this is worth our time and money.

Running Water

With the consistent and productive rain storms, all of the drainages and creeks are fully running. Although we had water all year in Odom Creek and Spring Creek, the water was not running the full length of the creek. It would run from the springs and then stop 50′-100′ or so downstream. Now, everything, including the arroyos, are running. The air is wet and the smell is green, life-filled. There has been a boom of Sierra Chorus frogs, which I’ve not heard in large volume in a few years. This year, it is an incredible performance each day and night. I love it. I hear the toads too, with their deeper, slower chirp. I have seen more blue herons around the area with their easy to spook nature, 6′ wing-span, and dinosaur look. I hear flocks of birds before I see them, 20 to 50 birds flapping in unison overhead. There have been flocks of over 100 birds in the last several months too, weary travelers on their way south, stopping for a good rest, meal and shelter. That they choose this place, that they can find what they need here, makes my heart swell with joy and puts more smile lines on my face, the sign of a life well-lived.

With the running water, I am able to see how the log and rock drop structures are doing. They are working as designed! I am seeing sediment and water pooling up behind the barriers. Yet, the barriers are permeable enough to allow water to more slowly flow downstream. Water is backing up and pooling even well upstream. The longer the water stays back, the more time it has to soak into the soil and the fissures underground. I am so proud of this work. I know the swale pond moisture resulted in the nearest oak having a bumper crop of acorns two years ago when all the other oak trees nearby, or not near a more prolific water source, had less. I will be putting game cameras nearby to see who uses the water source, but I need to figure out more ways to document the impact of this work.

Monitoring and Managing

When projects are done, they still need to be monitored and maintained. The guzzler continues to work as designed. I ensure that the rock and branch pile for small animals to access it is solidly in place. Every now and then I find the pile altered, so I build it back up. With all the rain, the guzzler is more than full. It has been overflowing, which will provide another year of fresh water for wildlife.

Yesterday, I was adding to the brush piles David and I built last year. As wood degrades, small branches need to be added to maintain size and a safe harbor for the animals that make them their home. I quickly built another pile as well. With the large storm coming, I did not want all the smaller oak branches left over from the large oak tree that fell in the creek last winter to be swept downstream. They were perfect for a brush pile; I just did not have time to build one the past few months.

Back and forth, I carried or dragged the branches from the spread pile 40 steps in each direction. It was a great workout. Even in the coolness of this weather, I began to sweat. At the beginning, I looked at the large, spread out pile of branches and wished I had a crew of two more people to help. “Many hands makes light work,” I thought to myself. I greedily looked at my dogs, lounging in the grass, happy, staring out at the beauty. I wondered if I could fashion a harness and have them help me drag the branches. Well, too little thought too late. It was just me there – so I started. An hour later, the entire space was cleared, and the beginning of a brush pile had been started. I felt good for finally getting the work done to make yet another space for birds to make a home.

David is staying on top of mowing the grass this year. Last year, keeping the grass short resulted in many more wildflowers. It also helped with managing the planted areas. This year, we are going to be even more vigilant with weeding and mowing. It is certainly a lot easier to see the plants and straighten the baskets with the grass lower. I also love seeing the diversity of mushrooms that emerge with the moisture. They are such remarkable living things.

It continually shocks me how early the wildflowers arrive. Winters keep getting shorter. There were a few days in January where the temperature went to 71 degrees. Although my cattleman loved it for the grass growth potential, I was horrified. It needs to be cold now so everything can rest. The grass grew, wildflower buds emerged, and there were a large number of bumble bees, native bees and european honey bees.

Cross Fence Complete

After two years of protecting the california milkweed with my body, I finally got the cross fence installed. It has been a huge goal to get this section of the ranch fenced off so that we can manage the grazing more closely. I worked with my cattlemen to determine how we would use the new field, what made sense for his grazing schedule and what my needs were. He had mentioned cross fences several years ago, and that stayed in my memory. If the amount of acreage and timing were right, it could be helpful to his operation and keep the monarchs with their host plants safe from trampling or taste testing. The new field will be very helpful with his aggressive grazing rotation. We will close the gates sometime in March, depending on milkweed and butterfly schedules, and keep them closed until the plants seed in July. He pulls most of the cows off the ranch anyway in May or June to bring them to high country pastures. Ideally, the field will have good quality and quantity of feed for the cattle to return to later in the year. Like anything, we will monitor the situation and adapt the plan as nature and human needs dictate.

Up Next

I will be installing a second guzzler on the east side of the ranch. Both guzzlers will have a larger rainwater catchment system attached to the guzzler tub. Essentially, it is a tank under an overhang with a gutter system and return for water to access the tank. There will be a pipe connected to the guzzler with a float valve to ensure that there is always water available in the guzzler for wildlife. In this way, I am able to provide year-round water without creating a more extensive infrastructure or depending on myself to transport water from tanks at the house all the way to the far side of the ranch.

Of course, planting blue oaks will be a focus this month and next. The planting season for blue oaks is December through April. I hope to get the remaining 19 seedlings into the ground no later than early March. However, those 103 seedlings will be arriving in December 2024. I think I am going to plan a fun tree planting party for December or January 2025 – with good work, food and music. Maybe you will consider joining me? Keep an eye on this blog for more details about how to participate if you are interested.

This is the 97th blog post since I started a large scale focus on habitat. Only three more posts, and it will be the 100th. Admittedly, I look back on the body of work, both physical and written, and am astounded. I can’t believe how much has been accomplished since the start. The work has been transformative – for both plants and person. There will be a celebration and some readers will win organic cotton Pollinative t-shirts. More details on this as we get closer. I hope you will celebrate with me.

Gifts

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

Gift of Purpose

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

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

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

Planted oak #2 in flat area near the driveway

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

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

Gift of Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gift of Friendship and Labor

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

Sediment back up from natural branch dam

Gift of Beauty and Food

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

Gift of Service to Community

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

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

Gift of Knowledge Through Art

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

Gift of Time for Reflection

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

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