A new baby and the annual
bird survey at the Ranch

There is a new addition to the menagerie. Checking on the setting ten-year-old goose the other day gave me a shock. There was a gosling standing alongside her. That's not supposed to be how it goes. The goose lays three to four eggs, sits on them until they break, and the nest has to be hauled out of the chicken house and thrown away. That's how it goes here. No one has hatched a gosling in years. This goose had no idea that an egg did anything but break. She didn't know what to do with the gosling so it tried to take up with its father and uncles. They did their best to step on it. The following morning when I found it out of the nest and hanging with the ganders, shivering, I knew it was going to live with . . . me. So now it does, in a box, in the bathroom (where fawns, chicks, squirrels, etc., go), in my life. Another baby. It peeps for attention and hollers if it doesn't get it, slings food, runs over the floor at 40 miles an hour; it's thrilled, happy, content. Me . . . not happy so much, really . . . it's another baby . . . in the house. This morning I ordered the planned on forty chicks from the Iowa hatchery. Just as little junior goose is a month old, the chicks will arrive.
Moisture continues. As I write this I can look out the north door of the cottage and see a thunderstorm coming. Its low thunder sounds about 15 miles away. Of course, the weather geniuses haven't predicted this. Weather forecasting has gone to the dogs. I say it and everyone I know says it. Gone are the days of old Jim Dawson on Channel 12 who often got weather right. His best days were those in which he drew all his clouds, rain drops, norther winds, etc. He actually could draw pretty well, too. Anyway, forecasting is done on PC computers now and nobody has any good information. It's all guesses until the weather has happened. Then they rationalize, rehash, and rectify to try to appear like they knew it all the time. We are living now like our ancestors did in the 19th century. "Look out the window, Mabel, and see if there are any clouds in the sky!" And good luck!

Bebe Fenstermaker

Bebe and I spent a recent Saturday on an annual ranch bird survey. It was a beautiful morning, the temperature was in the high 60s, low 70s, sunny, and calm. Accompanying us was our neighbor, Clark, who for the last several years has helped us run our surveys. He is a crack birder who identifies by ear just as well as he does by sight. Clark amazes us, as he is able to distinguish a specific bird vocalization from a cacophony of sounds. This year another neighbor, Bill, also joined us. He is a geologist who enjoys birding and is a native plant enthusiast. Bill has been ever so helpful educating us about the geology of the area. Our survey consisted of two goals, bird variety and golden cheeked warblers (GCW) specifically. The Ranch performed spectacularly. The variety count was good and the GCW count was the best we had recorded in that area to date. We walked the length of the creek between the road and the south field and then waded across to work the opposite side back to the road. We heard at least six singing GCW males, one of which I was finally able to see moving about in the top of an oak. The high point of the morning was definitely at Obert's Pool, which happened to be full, the water splashing into it over the rocks. Along the banks, Texas buckeye and Mexican buckeye were blooming side by side under the trees. Bill pointed out slicken slides, features on some of the rock surfaces denoting faulting (the surface is smooth except for grooves cut when faulting causes the rock to split apart, some of it scraping the surface of the other as it drops). He also identified the area as a rudist reef and pointed out the little ferns growing out of cavities of the formation. Meanwhile, overhead, a GCW male flitted amongst the trees, singing his head off. It was a heady experience. We continued our work and upon reaching the road, we began picking up fossils for Bill to identify until we reached our vehicles.
The other day the dogs and I got a jump on the cows before they could barge into the yard through a hole in the fence. As we approached the herd I realized we were accompanied by the three guineas and the peacock, who was busy herding the guineas. We sent the cows back over the creek towards home and supper. As I watched them climb the opposite bank, I heard "someone" trotting up from behind. I turned around to find Genevieve there. She was fed up with them barging into her "area."

Sissy Fenstermaker