We’ve had rain and more rain. And with the mild temperatures, it’s meant one of the most beautiful falls we can remember. Most years it freezes hard and the leaves turn to a dull brown before they color. But this year even the willows are studded with yellow. My sumac off the back deck is a scrumptious mix of reds and pinks. When I’m driving to do errands, I take different routes just to see what trees and bushes are aflame with color. Be still my heart.
It’s heaven for cows too. There’s green under the golden grasses. And the soil is moist with no hint of dust, which can be a health risk in the fall.
The newly weaned calves have created their own community now, depending on one another (and the rancher) instead of Mom to find feed and water. The mother cows are still high in the mountains, content to play out these last carefree days of summer-time grazing.
Mark and I spent a few days in the hills checking fences and cows. We took the 4-wheeler up the creek to shut off the small irrigation ditch that circles the meadow. It seeps through the soil to water the grass from underground. Getting water into the soil profile, however, is done most efficiently by the beavers that live here. As Mark headed to the top of the pasture, he dropped me off to walk the steep side of the creek to look for their dams.
We’ve been concerned. Low water levels this spring made us think the dams had washed out and perhaps we had lost our beaver population. But as I walked along the creek, I ran into old dams still doing a nice job of backing up the water. Then I came upon several dams with evidence of new activity. New limbs on top of old. High tight structures with deep ponds on the other side. Here was a freshly felled quakie. And nearby, a trail the beaver had worn leading to the edge of the pond.
The creek is heavy with willows, so walking along it is impossible. But if you stop and listen, the dam locations are revealed by the trickle of water. Then you can weave your way through the thicket to find them. Someday I want to come back and just sit and wait. Long enough to actually see the beavers at work. It could happen.
Besides the hands-on work of the ranch, Mark and I go out in the world to try and make a difference. We participate in a variety of groups to forward the values we believe in. Mark will take over as Idaho Cattle Association president next month. I venture into conservation work and write about it mostly. We discuss with other partners. We argue. We collaborate, teach, listen and learn. Then we come back home to practice the principles on our own ranch. It’s not easy. We’ll do this until we die, always imperfect.
And in the morning, while it’s still dark out, with that first cup of coffee poured, we tell each other about our escapades and try to make sense of it all. We’re not that young couple anymore with enough time ahead of us to imagine all our dreams coming true. We’re pragmatists now. We celebrate small wins. We understand that getting the question right is more important than thinking we have all the answers. We try to focus on issues we can actually influence.
There's plenty to worry about if you're in the natural resource business. Or the beef business. Or a citizen alive today for that matter. But worrying doesn't help does it? What helps is taking some kind of action. I have a quote written by Sam Bingham, a practitioner and teacher of Holistic Management. “Fatalism is a luxury of those who have time to chat. Those who must act must have hope.”
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| at home, sweet light of evening |
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| stockpiled grass for winter grazing there's a maze of cobwebs across the tips of the grass |
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| nice work! |
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| Great Grandpa Eldro's corrals |
