For the Birds

October sunshine is coming through the quakie out our front door. My Dad brought me the tree from the Blackfoot River Mountains where they grow in abundance. The tree feeds my soul. It brings my Dad - and the mountains I love - close in. The quakie is in full yellow brilliance, but most of the color in our trees has been squelched by a super hard frost. The box elder and cottonwood leaves are brown and crunchy. Dang it, I hate it when that happens.  

We've enjoyed watching dark eyed juncos foraging on the ground and we identified a ruby crowned kinglet in the bushes. Audubon says these species may migrate further south or stay and overwinter here. We left them plenty of standing seedheads on weeds and flowers, trees and brush for shelter, and leaves and plant litter to hide wintering insects for the occasional protein meal. Our place looks messy at first glance. Well, second glance too, but I have a new term for it. We had a young woman staying with us that called our ranch an “ark,” a stopover for wildlife in a sea of harvested farm ground. One of the definitions of ark, expanding on the biblical one, is something that affords protection and safety. I like the sound of that. We’re not messy, we’re an ark!

It reminds me of another visitor years ago that gazed off our porch and said, “Looks like you have a good mix of native and introduced species!” He was right and we’ve laughed about that over the years.

Mark has been stockpiling pasture, leaving lots of growth for fall and winter cow feed. He found me lying in the deep grass along our driveway last night. I could smell its pungent aroma and when I pulled the plants apart, the soil surface was covered with worm castings.

Winter is staging her descent, but life abounds all around us if we pay attention. It's cozy-up time. We've dug the potatoes and laid in the firewood. Hay is in the stack and the pastures are brimming with feed. Weaning calves is on the docket for next week. Time to dally the loop and draw in the harvest.