Weather Hysteria

Weather forecasters in other parts of the nation seem to be highly respected. If you're predicting tornadoes, hurricanes, ice storms, and other such things, what you say is obviously important.

This is not so in California. There is rarely any weather drama here. So the weather people contrive it.

This was in early February, when we were expecting a storm in our area.

OMG! Massive amounts of water are coming to the entire West Coast! Start building the ark.

Of course, this is talking more about the coastal areas, where it usually does rain heavier than in the Central Valley. But the foothills are also at risk!

IF! IF! It could be 12-18 inches, and that would be an unprecedented disaster. Sure. And Hell could freeze over, too. Is it likely that much rain would fall in my area? No. I can recall the worst storm in my lifetime (back in the 1980s). It was maybe 3 or 4 inches in one day. That was way more than this valley could handle easily. Does no one in the weather department pay attention to precedent? Probably not, most of them came here from the Midwest last week, to get work experience in a larger market than their hometown, Podunk, Ohio.

Here were the results after this so-called massive storm.

Kingvale, Kyburz, and Pacific House are up in the Sierras. The others are valley locations. It was a decent storm. It left a few puddles for a day or two. The grass on the hills seems a little more optimistic, but here in the valley the fields are dry and ready to plant, the day time temps are pleasant, the days are sunny. Now the weatherpeople can go back to predicting epic droughts. Which is probably closer to the truth,

Enjoy it while it lasts

The hills are green, the almond trees are in full bloom, the crop rows are ready to plant. The skies, when there is no fog, are sunny. There is no reason to wear a jacket, a vest in the morning is all you need. This is California at its best, especially appreciated while the rest of the nation is freezing.

It should last another couple of weeks, maybe to the middle of March, and then the effects of our drought will be evident and only the irrigated crops will stay green. Even now the grass on those hills is not showing much optimism.

These pictures were taken on the way to the most recent poultry show, in Ferndale. I had the luxury of a traveling partner this time. My friend Katherine is living in nearby Wilton once again. She likes to drive, and has driven my car quite a lot, so it was a treat for me to just be a passenger and enjoy the view this time.

It was a little more challenging to have two exhibitors and all our birds and traveling gear loaded into the car.

When you get everything packed this tight, though, everything stays in place if you have to stop quickly.

The entire trip was sunny and warm. Even so, it was novel to see a convertible with its top down in February.

One thing I like about the trip to Ferndale is that Dr. Bradley handles the youth activities there. It's great to visit with her at the banquet and catch up on her news.

This was a 4-H showmanship class. The girl who is handing her the hen is the niece of Matt M., who used to show against Bob back in the old days. Dr. Bradley has taught probably 3 generations of California 4-H kids the finer points of showmanship. She's retired now, but we're all fortunate that she still likes to work with the kids once in a while.

At the end of the day, Katherine and I managed to take the RCCL class. Her Rosecomb was Best RCCL and my Dominique bantam pullet was Reserve.

The next show is Fresno. Then I have to clear the show cages and show paraphernalia out of the spare room and get serious about hatching chicks again. There's a possibility of showing in Utah in March. That will depend on the weather. I won't be getting out of California if it's snowing over the passes. If the weather continues the way it has, that won't be a problem. For travel, anyway. It will surely be a problem for maintaining spring and summer crops.

Motels along the way

If one is available near a chicken show location, I'll try to stay at a Hampton Inn. I like the beds, I like the buffet breakfast, I just feel comfortable at a Hampton Inn.

Most of those hotels, though, are in newer sections of towns. Most of the poultry shows are in older parts of towns, at old fairgrounds or other facilities that are not expensive to rent, and where there are no fancy neighbors to complain about animals nearby. The show management generally makes a deal with a nearby hotel to be the "official" show hotel. There is a lower show rate, and the club can get free comp rooms for their judges if they sell enough to the exhibitors.

Sometimes this works okay. Not as good as a Hampton Inn, but okay. Other times it can be - at best - an interesting experience. I've already told you about the Wiebe Motel in Hollister.

The motel at the Modesto show was interesting, too. It was an older Clarion. The building had a very strange layout, built around an indoor pool.

In the daylight, it was well lit from the overhead sunroof. At night, however, the lighting was inadequate, and the dampness and smell of chlorine were prominent features. As one 4-H parent said, it was creepy and reminded her of Pirates of the Caribbean.

My room was a little strange, too. There were two doors, one connected to the inner hallway and one that led directly outside to the parking spaces. You could only enter through the inner door. The outer door was for exiting only, the card key would not work in it.

When I first got to my room, there were no towels. The maid soon brought some. When I tried to hang them on the rack, it broke. A call to the main desk fixed that, but I was concerned they'd think I'd stolen the towels and broke the rack myself and would charge that to my credit card.

They didn't. Another annoying thing was the bathroom sink area. I mean, really, where do you put your stuff?

They must be more accustomed to businessmen staying here. Not women or families.

Everything worked out fine by the second day. It was fun having everyone at the same hotel so we could get together in the restaurant or bar (I don't drink, but those who do are often amusing).

This past weekend I stayed at a Super 8 in Fortuna. The only problem there was not enough parking. If you got back to your room late, it was quite a walk from the nearest available space.

Next will be a Picadilly Express in Fresno, then - at last! - a Hampton Inn in Red Bluff. By the time show season is over, which happens for me in June, I will have stayed 18 nights in hotels.

Trying something new

I used to love a challenge.

Now I avoid them, if I can.

I did try one last week, though, and it was successful despite the fact that I did almost everything wrong.

I mailed some hens to a Dominique friend in Georgia. Other people mail birds all the time. I have received birds through the mail, myself. I know that it works very well. But I had never mailed them mysef. So I tackled this task in my usual plodding, methodical way.

First, I researched it thoroughly. I read everything online and talked to friends who had experience. What I discovered is that every single post office - even though they all operate under the same rules - handles this differently. Also, the rules seem to change about 4 times a year.

I carefully picked two birds to send, they were going to a breeder who also shows, so I wanted birds he could really use. I had to be careful, though, not to send him birds I still need. I washed them and kept them in the house for two days to stuff their little bellies for the trip. They liked that part.

Then I went online to USPS.com and figured out how to print out a prepaid label. The next morning I diligently got up early, loaded the birds in the box, threw in some apple slices, and taped it shut. I had to reprint the label twice because the ends of the tape stuck and pulled the printing off it. I never could figure out how to make the tape dispenser work right, I kept having to pull a piece off, stick one end to the kitchen counter, then use both hands to put the tape on the box (careful to avoid blocking any of the air holes). Here are the girls in their box.

I then got in the car and drove the box all the way across the county through nasty commute traffic to be at the main post office before it opened. Success! Sort of.

The post office, as it turns out, doesn't open for business until 9 a.m. Oh well. Just before it did open, a fellow with a box just like mine showed up. I glanced at his box. Hmm, no tape on it. Just a zip tie at each corner. So, THAT'S what those little holes were for! I was glad I was ahead of him, my sloppily taped box would be seen before his neat one, maybe they wouldn't give me a hard time about that.

When I finally got to the counter and handed my box to the post office person, he glanced at the return address and said, "You know, our rules changed in October. You can take these to your local post office now."

Well, of course.

On the way home, I did stop at the local post office and ran that information past the fellow behind the counter. I got the eyebrows of annoyance from him. He admitted that, yes, that was the case. However they only have one Priority Express pick up every day, and that's at 6:00 p.m. I would have to bring my package in just before the office closed at 5:00 p.m. because they wouldn't want to have to listen to the birds cluck all day. Typical Rancho Murieta, suburban attitude. We have to share what used to be our rural post office with the transplanted city people. I decided if I do use a local post office, I'd take the birds a little further to Wilton, which is still a more rural area.

Anyway, the birds sat around the main post office ALL DAY. They were finally put on the Priority Express truck at 4:30 that afternoon. I'd gotten bad advice about getting them to the post office early. The next morning, though, they were in Georgia, and by noon I got this picture from their happy new owner.

I don't know if he works at a store, or if he took her shopping on the way home.

So, despite my well-planned, but wrong moves, the birds arrived promptly and safely.

I'm looking forward to mailing more birds off to new homes soon. When I can decide which ones they are. Remember, indecision is part of my personality.

Indecision

This post will undoubtedly make my friend Mitzi snicker.

I'm pretty good in an emergency, but in regular life I have a hard time making decisions.

I'm a linear thinker. I have to begin at point 1, consider ALL the possibilities, and follow them through to their conclusions. The older I get, the more consequences I've seen, and the longer it takes to logically follow all those different paths.

I do not claim that this is the best way to function. Too many times I've seen carefully constructed plans fall apart because of something unforeseen. When you are an overplanner, that just makes you more committed to planning more thoroughly. It doesn't make you throw caution to the wind and say "whatever."

At work I was sometimes seen as an obstructionist by people who were new to the printing industry and didn't understand the value of avoiding costly mistakes and the necessity of heading those off in the early stages of a job. I didn't care, because avoiding mistakes was part of my job and I did it well.

In real life my thought process is mostly only annoying to myself. And maybe to a couple of people who witness the waffling process. Mostly those people are also wafflers, though.

This has been a prime week in the life of an habitual waffler.

The biggest poultry show in the west is coming up. I have entered a lot of birds and was looking forward taking my best to compete with the best that other people were bringing, to make it the best contest of the year. It took me a long time to decide which birds those would be.

Now the avian influenza outbreak has made its way to within 15 miles of the show facility. It has supposedly been contained at a commercial turkey farm, but is still something that needs to be taken seriously.

The show will be held at a college where there is a large commercial poultry program within sight of the building. The students there will be setting up the show. In terms of biosecurity the college is careful, but so was Foster Farms and they still ended up with a problem.

There will be a federal inspector at the show, which is still scheduled at this point. That's a good thing and a bad thing. The inspector will do random testing. If that shows even what might turn out to be a false positive, all the birds in the building could be quarantined and held. If there is actual evidence of AI, the birds could all be euthanized.

On the other hand, this is an important show and if everyone stays home the club that puts it on could lose a lot of money. Poultry clubs operate on a small margin of profit.

So. What to do?

Consider the possibilities, but also consider the likelihood of possible conclusions. It's very likely there will be no incident, that the show will go as planned with no problems. But just in case...

This bird won't be going.

He doesn't belong to me. He and a female were sent to me by a friend in Missouri and I won't put them in harm's way. This is an unfortunate situation because I think this bird could have won Best of Breed at the show, which would be quite an accomplishment in a regular year.

I also won't be taking any of my best show or breeding birds. I've decided I should only take the second string birds, the ones that I might sell at the show anyway. This is a hard thing to do if you are competitive, and also a hard thing to do because I have to decide in the space of three days which birds I could actually part with.

There has been a lot of listmaking here this morning, and coffee drinking while the lists are being made, and waffling back and forth. It's exhausting.

Gun Mentality

I've said this before: I don't own a gun because I have a bad temper. It's a rare occasion, but nonetheless I have been known to pick up the handiest thing I can find and throw it at a problem. While I've become a little wiser about that over the years (do not throw things that break in the vicinity of other things that break), I've also acquired some handicaps that would not make me an ideal gun owner. I'm clumsy, I forget things.

Besides, I know lots of others who own guns. Many of them own lots of firearms because they're afraid "liberals" want to take them away. Speaking as an occasional "liberal," that isn't my intention. I would prefer that idiots not have guns. I mean, I would be an idiot if I had a gun, and have voluntarily declined to own one. Shouldn't that at least apply to those with certified mental problems? And I wouldn't mind seeing the demise of the NRA (National Rifle Association) just because they're stupid and they lie and they support political candidates who are brainless. (Maybe that's an oxymoron, to be a political candidate one MUST be brainless.)

Everyone who lives nearby and has a gun wants to come to my place and do target shooting. I don't really like that. My insurance wouldn't cover it, there are shooting ranges for those activities. I don't pay outrageous property taxes to subsidize other peoples' passion for guns. But I do allow it sometimes.

So when I need to have a raccoon executed, I call the guys with the guns. And call, and call. Just because you own an AK47 (I use that name because it came to mind, not because I actually know what it is) doesn't mean you will be available to off a raccoon. I finally did get one of the farm guys to do that. In the process, he forgot my $75 trap was behind his truck, backed over it and smashed it to bits.

Wow. I could have done that myself.

But, the raccoon is gone. The injured hen in the house is starting to eat and make chicken noises again. I'm still hopeful she won't die. I'm once again debating whether or not I need a dog.

For years we had dogs in the yard and there were no raccoons. I didn't even know there were raccoons in the area until the dogs were gone. The last dog was actually killed by a raccoon, in a way. One of them came around almost every night and teased her through the chain link fence. She finally pushed the bottom of the fence and got out of the yard, chased the raccoon across the highway and was killed.

I don't want to go through that again. Also, when there were dogs in the yard, the feral cats would not go there. The dogs didn't catch mice and there were lots of mice out there around the chickens. And the last dog we had ignored the chickens in their pens but if one was loose in the yard and I wasn't home, she must have seen it as her job to eliminate the problem.

Let's not even mention that it's much nicer now to be able to walk around the yard without having to scrape dog poo off your shoes.

You see the conundrum. I can trap raccoons. I'm very good at it. I know they're around the yard a lot, but as long as they stay out of the two pens that seem to be vulnerable, I just ignore them. I work at trying to keep the pens secure. I don't require that the countryside be vermin-free. I live in a riparian habitat and so do they. Trapping usually takes the offending animal immediately out of circulation. That needs to be done quickly because, once successful, they will return and are likely to bring friends. It's just a problem of what to do with the critter once it's trapped. Knowing a vast assortment of people who own guns and claim to like to shoot things is not the answer.

Last week the problem was raccoons.

This week the problem is microbial enemies. The west coast has had instances of avian influenza recently. At first it was limited to waterfowl in the Pacific Flyway in the northwest. Then to free-ranging flocks whose habitat allowed wild waterfowl to mingle with them. Now it has shown up in a commercial turkey farm in California.

I'm not too concerned about my birds being infected. My flock is fairly isolated here, surrounded by farm land. The problem I'm faced with this week is that the biggest show on the West Coast is coming up. It's the one we wait for all year. It's in Stanislaus county, about an hour away from where I live, and about 30 miles from where the disease has shown up in the turkey farm. Again, there's not much danger the show birds would be infected by that, BUT there's a chance the government people might need to quarantine the county and that would shut down the show.

I could live with that. But I'd sure like to know what's going to happen before I spend a week getting birds ready. It would be nice to know in enough time to cancel motel reservations. But life doesn't work that way, does it?

Raccoons,  microbes. There's always something to keep life interesting and to remind a person that making plans and being a control freak is no guarantee of success.

Playing catch up...again

When you don't hear from me in a while, you all probably think I'm just hanging around watching the mushrooms grow.

To a certain extent, that's true. It's been damp from a two-week succession of foggy days. Which is good for growing mushrooms, or becoming one.

I haven't been vegetating, though. I do stay busy, I'm just not doing the sort of stuff that makes an interesting blog.

I've been out to breakfast with my friend George. We usually go to Bert's diner. It's always fun to sit and discuss world affairs with an 86-year old who is still sharp as a tack. George is the one with the cane.

George was a radical before it was a popular thing to be. Also he's been a farmer all his life. A radical farmer is a rare and beautiful creature.

I've also had breakfast with John's cousin Beverly. Sometimes we meet after a trip to SPCA with a load of Beverly's neighborhood cats, but not always. (This is an ongoing trap, neuter, and return project.)

Beverly has become her neighborhood's Crazy Cat Lady just in the past couple of years. I had lunch with her yesterday when I picked up my traps so I could catch a murdering raccoon in my own back yard. It got into the pen where I keep my laying hens and killed one and injured another. I had to bring the injured one in and sew it up yesterday. She seems to be doing fine. I did catch a raccoon last night. It is awaiting execution this morning. Anyone local who thinks this is cruel is welcome to come pick it up and take it to their house. I don't bother the wildlife around here, only put a trap out when there's a murderer around. Am I sure the one I trapped is the guilty one? No. Do I care? No, the trap was in the yard, where no raccoon has any legitimate business.

I've been to one chicken show already this month, in Hollister. That's in a coastal valley near Salinas. It was great to leave the foggy Central Valley. About halfway up the Pacheco Pass, on the road from I-5 to Hollister, the fog broke. It was sunny and 65 degrees on the other side of the hills.

The show was fun, my birds didn't win anything spectacular, but that was okay. I tried a new motel this year, the Wiebe Motel. Hollister is full of what most people would consider seedy places to stay. All the newer motels are over near Gilroy, just off Hwy 101 and about 15 miles away. Over the years, I've stayed in almost every one of Hollister's places. This year I finally stayed in the last one. The Wiebe Motel is owned by a pair of older Asian people. It was probably built in the 1950s. It has basalite block walls. The wiring is old, no USB recharge ports. It's like staying overnight in your aunt's spare bedroom.

The rooms are not luxurious, but everything is very clean and tidy. The first night was great, quiet and snug. I was in room 32. The second night, about 2 a.m., the person in room 31 brought home several friends when the bars closed and they continued a party there for hours. It was irritating, but what are you going to do? Bang on a basalite wall? After an hour I decided the people were having a good time, not up to any mischief, so I just went back to sleep. They were noisy, but it was happy chatter noise. That kind of noise doesn't bother me much, I've slept through a lot of Beer Pong parties that were right in my back yard.

The next morning I found out that a chicken show friend had been staying in room 33. The party noise bothered him after a couple of hours, so he called the hotel managers. He said the elderly manager did go out and warn the party goers, to no avail. Then he called the police. It wasn't until maybe 4 a.m. that the party finally broke up and peace returned. I didn't know any of that, I slept right through it, though I had dreams all night that I had to keep chasing people out of my room. They weren't scary dreams, just annoying.

Hollister is situated right on top of an active earthquake fault. I was really happy that the most recent quake there waited until I was home from the show.

While people in other parts of the country are living with snow and ice this time of year, it's one of the prettiest times in California. The trees are bare, but the grasses are green, so the hills and fields are beautiful. In Hollister, some of the farming fields that surround the town are fallow, but in others there are winter crops growing: kale, cabbages, lettuce. In people's flower gardens the geraniums are still blooming.

In my own yard, an early frost killed back the annual plants. I've got the flower beds cleaned out and ready for some spring flowers, probably violas, stock, and snapdragons. If we get another frost, it would be in late February and wouldn't hurt those things. Meanwhile, the camellias are blooming and the lilacs are starting to bud. Plants just have an easier time of it here in California.

Here are a couple of my inside plants that are also blooming, my orchids.

The white one was a birthday present two years ago, the pink one I just brought home from the local grocery store because it was leftover from Christmas and I felt sorry for it.

Plants here have such a long season, I have to wonder why the chickens are such slouches. I have a pair of birds that came from Missouri last month that I've been showing for a friend. I'm already incubating some of their eggs. My own birds aren't even laying yet. I would expect it to be the opposite. Why do birds from the frozen wastelands start laying earlier in the year?

There's always something here to wonder about.