Who let the cows, bull and horse out — did I mention the deer too.

Summer is shaping up to be remembered as hot and a little bit crazy.

Most of my time is spent cutting and weed whacking an acre or two of lawn. What is unusual about that is the tremendous growth rate this year. I think the past long, hard and cold winter tricked Mother Nature into mass production of grass in case there is another wicked brumal season.

When I am not riding the lawn mower the furry herd demands attention along with all the other summer fix-it projects. But all that activity gets plenty of interruptions of the pleasant variety.

About 4 a.m. the dog wants to go outside to begin his morning shift of doing what a watchdog does – watch. As I open the door a deer is munching in my pasture and Bob lets out a medium sized woof. The deer takes notice, but isn’t worried and meanders to find a good spot to vault the fence.

I pitter-patter down the hall to catch a few more winks and then the day begins.

Morning feeding inside the house for myself and part of the furry herd.

Outside critters on the Catillac Ranchette are lazing on the deck waiting for breakfast. I load up all the food and make my way to their feeding stations. Rounding the corner I spot a large amount of black and white. Eight neighbouring Holstein heifers are loafing in my yard. On either side of the Catillac Ranchette is pasture belonging to my neighbour. The girls were originally in the pasture to the south. They were temporarily moved to the north side pasture to accommodate silage harvesters driving in and out of the adjacent crop field.

After 24 hours on the north side the girls were antsy to get back to the south side and found the weakest link. One of the north side pasture gates opens to my driveway. A bit of pressure and down it went. I called in the cow wranglers who were still at morning chores a few miles away. I might be a cow whisperer to a couple of heifers, but eight was above my pay grade.

Four decided to go back through the open gate, which was flat on the ground, and hang around the north pasture while the other four went on a leisurely county tour.

Soon two quads rolled up and parked nearby while the riders dismounted and began their search for the missing four.

Three hours later and all of the ladies were back inside the south pasture, hanging around the water cooler while chatting about their great escape.

Later that night I do roll call and the entire furry herd along with the Rock dove are accounted for and Bob is ready for bed. Counting cows sounded like this: two, three, five, seven, eight, nine…wait a minute…seven, eight, nine. Need my zoom lens. Out come the binoculars and whoa – the neighbour’s beef bull is in the pasture. I know there won’t be any hanky panky between the only male with eight females because the heifers are all bred. But, if he can get in, they can get out. Mr. beefcake spent the night and his owner rounded him up and fixed the breach in the fence. Now I want to point out that Bob only barked at the deer and not the heifers in the yard or the bull visiting

I thought that was enough excitement for 24 hours, but more was on the way.

The next day I was getting ready to hang a load of laundry on the outside line when I heard that familiar woof –“there’s something that needs your attention”.

Up the driveway trots a beautiful horse with a halter and a long lead shank attached and dragging on the ground.

It was obvious that he didn’t want much to do with me and instead decided to inspect the Catillac Ranchette.

I have a bit of horse experience, but that was with my own. I had to draw upon a few television lessons from the horse whisperer Monty Roberts to get the equine into my fenced pasture until I could find his owner.

A direct approach by grabbing the lead was not going to work. Instead I did a little trick by turning my back on him and looked towards the ground. Well son of a gun it worked. He walked right up to me as if we were long lost friends.

Just as I managed to grasp the lead a white truck slowly drove into my yard.

It was the owner. She explained that “Mouse” had travelled a considerable distance.

Watching her slowly drive the truck with horse in tow, I wondered why so many escaped animals have arrived in my yard over the years when there were several other places along the way to visit. And then it hit me. Animals have their own social networking and I must be on their “like” and “must see” list.

Love is in the air — no it isn’t, that’s chocolate I smell

Only two sleeps until one of my favourite after-the-holiday-on-sale-weeks, aka — achocalypse.
It isn’t just the calendar or retail aisles overflowing with chocolate, hearts, stuffed bears and other red things that tells me Valentine’s day is near.
No, it is the feline roaming romeos seeking companionship of the opposite sex that tells me I am getting closer to a buying spree of a female’s best friend when the world is beating down your door.
Ok, a little dramatic. But anyone who loves chocolate gets my drift.
With no ladies to court on the Catillac Ranchette save one itty-bitty female Abyssinian that has a mate and lives with him only, there is no need for strange male cats to be lurking around.
It is probably the site of a decent sized herd of cats that first gets the attention of the neighbour’s tom. That just entices him to cautiously enter the yard, just in case there is a lady-in-waiting.
He may get past the dog, but he won’t get by the yard nazi or the grandpa Maine Coon with a hefty set of polydactyl paws.
The pair act like bouncers at a trendy club. They look the stranger over with discerning eyes and decide he is not worthy.
If the posturing doesn’t turn the wandering tom around to exit intact then the mohawk rising on the back of the yard nazi certainly gets the message across.
A hasty retreat by the unfulfilled lover has the bouncers giving each other a high five.
By now the roaming tom realizes there are no ladies at the Ranchette and heads off into the sunset in search of love.
Ok, ok this is not a Harlequin Romance story for cats. The intruder obeys the instinct of the annual spring ritual, even if that means a fight or two along the way to fulfilling his Mother Nature mission.
And, coyotes too are seeking out mates. They serenade one another at night. Drives my dog nuts. Bob barks and barks at them like they are singing out of key.
About the time I stock up on my dairy products that come in the form of chocolate, things should settle down on the Catillac Ranchette until more snow has melted. Then another cycle of activity resumes for the furry herd. Hunting for mice, gophers and moles.
I should still have an ample supply of chocolate on hand to nibble on while watching the pasture safari the felines will be on.

Winteresque sneaks back

Yes I think I made up a name. The recent spring blizzard is reminiscent of  winteresque weather. Our neighbours in the southern part of the province had been hit several times, while we escaped the heavy, white blanket. But earlier this week we got nailed. Moisture is always welcome especially since the prolonged dryness prompted fire bans in several communities and rural areas. But, I wasn’t expecting such a bonanza.

While we had white-out conditions a community about 35 minutes east was unscathed and held onto their green landscape.

My driveway plugged up. Not because of the snow, but the raging winds made drifts too large to blast through. Besides, a drift of this wet Vancouver-like snow would be like hitting concrete if I took a run at the driveway.

The snow blower doesn’t like this type of moisture. So, out comes the grain shovel to make a small path for the tires of my two-wheel drive.

If I hold my tongue right, I can drive out of the yard and manoeuvre the 300-foot driveway packed with white wonder without any problem.

To get to that point took four days. Yup, four days.

Now the snow is melting and most farmers are breathing a small sigh of relief, however some fields in  the province are too wet. That’s just the way Mother Nature is. She has her own agenda and if it works out for us humans, count your blessings.

But wait, there’s more. The May long weekend, that kicks off the camping season, is notorious for heavy wet snow.

While folks from the city in their tents at campgrounds might not appreciate the irony, in these parts we have had snow in every month.

Take your parka camping this summer just in case winteresque sneaks back.

Good day to be bald

Last night’s spring storm continued through today and will likely be around tomorrow. The moisture part is okay as pastures and fields for this year’s crop are parched. It is the 90 kilometre wind that irks me.

I have the least amount of fun doing outside chores when the northwest gust is barreling down on me and sending my hair in every direction. Caps, hairspray or even a perm is no match for Mother Nature’s energy. It is on days like these that I envy those without hair, by their choice or not.

Walking at a 90 degree angle is tough enough – throw in locks that cover your eyes and get in your mouth makes it downright annoying.

After feeding everyone I seek refuge in the cat shed. Ahh yes no wind in there and a herd of furry friends all wanting attention. I hang out for a bit then face the typhoon to finish the chores that won’t send me sailing into the sky like a kite. Some items get picked up and placed inside an outbuilding such as lawn chairs; other flying objects are fine where they land and can be dealt with later.

When the cats remain cloistered in their shed on a spring day, it is best to follow their lead and hide inside the house until the gale force at least drops by half.

Occasionally an animal will venture out and tempt the blast of air only to retreat inside a wind-free shelter.

It is likely the animals on the Catillac Ranchette don’t share my being bald theory. I am sure they are content to have their winter coats to keep the chilly wind at bay.

Being in the country gives one full exposure to what Mother Nature has to offer. In town the wind is still strong but toned down a bit with buildings and such to buffer the power. Still, I prefer to embrace whatever weather is happening, even though I may grumble but, carry on nonetheless.

But I don’t think I’ll shave my head, quite yet.