Miscellany From The Hilltop
The hummingbirds visiting my front porch are becoming more numerous and insistent as we move into the early days of spring. The evening feeding frenzy has become a real popular food fest. I still have eight feeders hanging along the edge, and each one is busy morning and evening.
I used the term “early days of spring” because it really has been turning spring. The daily high temperatures warm up for a day or two, then seem to drop quickly. It’s not unusual to find a coating of frost on our windshield.
In my opinion, it has been a decent rainfall season this year. September and October were both 100 percent dry, but early-november came through with 1.77 inches over eight days. This was spread out enough to start the green grass. Following the rain, we had three scary, and disturbingly dry, weeks until Thanksgiving was behind us. December began and the skies opened up. It would cloud up and rain for a few days, dry up for a bit, and we were always relieved when it rained again. By the time 2023 began, there had been a wonderfully good month. December gave us 4.64 inches, raising the season total to 6.41 inches by New Year’s Day. The historical average for our section of the Southern San Joaquin Valley is 12.0 inches for the entire season, so at slightly more than half way to a normal year, we were in good shape.
And then along came January. Before the month was over, rain fell during 10 of the 30-one days of the month. This brought the total rainfall in January to 6.99 inches, more than doubling the season total until then. By the time February came along, the season total was up to 13.70 inches, surpassing the 12 inches of an average year.
In the middle of February, when this is being written, though we’ve not had any real good rain so far, we’ve had several “drippy” days. The sky remained overcast all day, and the precipitation came down in tiny, mist-like droplets. After an entire afternoon of this condition, there was never more than 0.10 or 0.15 inches in the gauge. However, this wet condition was wonderful for the grass, keeping it moist and preventing bright sunshine from evaporating the moisture.
The negative side was the rather cool midday temperature, even when the sun shone brightly. The grass on the hillsides remains a brilliant green, but without strong sunshine during the days, the plant size is somewhat limited. However, the early wildflowers, the pervasive orange of the Fiddleneck and the brilliant white Snow Drops, are showing themselves on the higher hills. Mustard has also begun painting some of the flats with brilliant yellow blooms.
Toward the end of January, I welcomed some new calves to the hilltop. Within the past week, I’ve had three more new calves arrive. My Santa Gertrudis cow we call Big Red, is the largest of my cows and the one with the least sense of humor. She presented me with either her fourth or fifth (Bob and I aren’t sure) set of twins, one all black the other red like her. Sadly though, the black one didn’t survive the first night. When I saw the calf during the middle of the day, I was worried about its lack of vigor. My experience has always shown me to let Nature take its course however. The next morning, she only brought the red calf in with her to hay. Bob went looking and found the bald eagles picking over the carcass, with evidence the wild pigs had been there during the night.
Even though the green grass is helping support the nutritional needs of my cows and calves, it’s still necessary to feed hay. Without those warm spring days, which we know are coming just around the corner, the green grass won’t grow fast enough so we can stop feeding hay.
One corner of my aging barn has a small gap underneath the lowest 4x4 beam. Bob, who works for me, has been feeding hay all winter due to my health condition. One morning he noticed a curious calf peeking through the gap. The mothers of the calves had crowded in beside each other in front of the manger to get the morning ration of alfalfa Bob had just thrown them.
The flakes of hay always look enticing to the calves, but there’s no room at the concrete manger for a 100-150 pound calf alongside a bunch of hungry 9001,200 pound cows.
One of the older calves could see and smell the hay still inside the barn through the gap. Bob spotted him peering through, and tossed him a flake. The other calves quickly crowded around to enjoy the feast. You must remember, it’s not as if the old cow isn’t nursing these calves, providing them with plenty of warm and nourishing milk. But to get their own flake of hay without having to compete with their mothers was a real treat.
Bob continued giving a flake to the calves at their special spot. One recent morning Bob noticed a much larger head in the gap, in essence “snitching” the hay Bob had thrown to the calves. Before he could do anything to shoo the cow back to the manger, a familiar fuzzy black-andwhite head appeared. Mister Boo had come to the rescue.
The cow’s head quickly disappeared as Boo butted her away. My amazing old bull then stood guard, positioning himself between the cows eating at the manger and the calves enjoying their treat at the gap under the barn. He was apparently making sure “the kids get to eat too.”