Sunday, October 27, 2013

Cattle confusion

It is high cattle drive season around here.  All the cattle has been/is being brought back in chunks from the foothills and up in the mountains.  The family has owned and operated the ranch for over 100 years, and has always maintained natural raised, grass fed beef, herded by horse and foot and directing traffic. 

Last Tuesday, during my first week of work at the new job, I turned off the main strip onto our county road, headed north, only to find the turn-off blocked.  Cattle were heading south before turning into a field opposite the ranch homestead, and vehicles lined the homestead entrance to keep the herd flowing into the correct gate.  I offered to go the back route (off road passage that sneaks along the river), but there was enough of a break in the herd that they could move the vehicles and let me through. 

It is incredibly intriguing to watch these beasts ranging 600 to 1200 pounds lumber down the road in parade.   Their heads bob with every step.  Awkward moos trill high and low, occasionally gruff.  They all poop without blinking, without pausing, without even lifting their tail half the time.  Anyone who works in a hospital accrues new poop stories every day, no matter your intended interaction with a patient.  So as I see the poop flying I can only think it a strange version of continence, where there is absolutely no regard for how it comes out, where it comes out, and what other body parts it may cover in the mean time.  But I digress.

Yesterday, late afternoon, I stepped outside intending to check the oil level of my car.  I heard the peculiarly shrill mooing from afar, so looked into the field.  All the cattle were pinned in the northeast corner, acting somewhat chaotic.  Then I saw the latest parade as it turned the corner onto our road.  I immediately dropped the oil bottle on the ground, ran inside to grab my camera, and ran down the homestead drive to get video of the drive.  I got within 50 feet of road when the lead cow reached the turn-off, and I stopped dead once realizing the drive led them into the open (read: non-fenced) section of field by the homestead drive. 

If they got confused as to where to go, then they could head straight toward me.  Davy said the cattle know the ranch and are happy to return, but does that mean they are also happy to comply with the drive home or are they as irritated as their anti-tonal moo choir sounds?  They piled into the open field and immediately bottle-necked.  Tracy, on horse, swept back and forth trying to keep them moving together.  I had no idea where they were supposed to be going.  All the cattle in abutting fields raced alongside the fences next to the herd.  "Where are you going?  Am I supposed to go to?  You are running - we are running!" 


Davy's father, who used to operate the ranch and still helps out a bit, was on foot.  His attempts to keep them moving were also futile.  As the number of cattle in one spot grew, they filled the field over to the edge of the homestead, which luckily had a fence.  They kept turning toward the homestead road, and Davy's father kept shooing them the other way. 

"He's got so many cattle.  It's crazy!"

Apparently the goal was to use a different gate than usual to enter the field just south of the homestead.  To get to it, the cattle had to cross the open field diagonally.  Cows, it seems, do not understand once the self-evident tunnel of only forward movement gives way to open ended geometry.  For those of you reflecting on the simple nature of the cow brain, don't think so fast.  It is also exactly what happens to runners if a course is not flagged or blocked off to the nth degree.  Just ask those who missed a turn off during a trail race because they followed others and stopped looking for the dozens of florescent flags leading them the other way. 

To make matters worse, the cattle already inside the destination field were just as riled up.  They saw the open gate and tried to exit to be with their newly returned brethren in the chaotic field.  The gate?  Now clogged with cattle all wedged together.

Whoa, Nelly.

At that point I decided to retreat so that my presence did not become a liability.  Not sure which gate they used, but within the next twenty minutes all the cattle were finally in the intended pasture. 

I kept laughing at the ordeal for the rest of the night, especially thinking of the cows fenced in just north of the homestead road.  There are two particular sienna brown cows with white faces who are always very curious.  They maintained their faces behind a post as though it made them invisible while they watched me take my pictures.  Not even a bottleneck and pandemonium finish to the drive could deter their peek-a-boo. 


Friday, October 25, 2013

Headlamps and huntresses

I started work this week.  It took some fine tuning and a couple of frustrating days to figure out how to integrate running into my work week.  I'm used to full time meaning that therapists are at work for 8 hours total, with a half hour for lunch resulting in 7.5 hours on the clock per day.  Here therapists are scheduled 8-5 with a full hour for lunch, so that means getting 8 hours of pay but being at work for 9 hours total.  That, plus the 45 minute commute each way... makes for much longer than expected.  Its actually less time for the commute (and more consistent) than when I was in grad school either cycling or taking the subway.  Just means I have to get up between 4:15 and 4:30 - which, for those of you who don't already know, is okay by me.  Were I to try and run after work, I'd be a very unhappy trudge of a sloth with no motivation.

Thankfully my coworkers are great, the facility is informal but professional, and I actually enjoy being at work.  The patients are all nice people too.  I worried that they'd be nervous or upset by the change in therapist, but they are all good people.

So within this first week of trying out the new schedule I had a handful of other fun occurrences.

Monday morning, orientation day, I awoke to Merus meowing and jumping around in the bathroom by the washer and drier.  She never ignores when food is being prepped.  I turned the corner, threw on the light, and there she was sitting proudly with a mouse dangling from her mouth.  She looked up and meowed without letting go.  In my two and a half years with these worms Merus has only watched Sadie with interest as she hunts, never participated.  Apparently she was just waiting for the big game. 

I flipped into mama mode and worried about her chewing on it and hurting her poor gums (her wet food is always mashed with water into more of a liquid) and grabbed a bucket nearby.  She didn't want to let it go, but when she did it scurried under the drier and likely back to whence it came.  I wasn't fast enough to throw the bucket over the top like I had hoped.  No idea what Merus would have done with it had I not been around.  It has not returned since. 

Speaking of hunters, Sadie has entertained herself royally by hunting and eating countless flies each day.  We seriously do not know where the flies spontaneously come from, but I am getting very good with my fly swatter technique.  Merus just jumps and swats at them, enjoying the hunt now that she is a huntress.  Sadie probably eats at least a half dozen a day, sometimes three times that much.  On Tuesday I arrived home to Sadie sheepishly tucked up behind a chair, a nervous look on her face.  Looked across the room and found a puddle of puke.  Fluid was all clear, but there were probably two dozen fly bodies and innumerable separated wings all mushed together.  Doesn't slow her down from eating more.  She does not puke often (this was probably her seventh puke in two and a half years), but she always hits an easily cleanable floor away from any and all objects.  Figure that - the Bad Cat is neat when it comes to bodily functions.  Like the time she peed in the trash can after I stupidly removed one of their litter boxes. 

After two days of wanting to run but being denied by improperly judging my schedule, Wednesday I was bound and determined.  Tuesday evening I was so pissed off that I was yelling at the cats "Who cares about these big cats, anyways?  And when are they even actually in the area?  F*** it, I'm gonna do the loop in the morning with a headlamp and that's how its going to be."  A couple hours later I cooled off to some sense of reason and decided to look up info on mountain lions.  *Sigh*  Okay, cautiousness is good.  So I instead did repeats up and down the stretch of our road north of the Rio Grande bridge.  It's just about a mile long one way, so I did 3/4 mile intervals with the last 1/4 mile as recovery jog before turning around.

It is incredibly dark all around when there is absolutely no competing light.  I could have run easily using just the moonlight, but used my headlamp so I could sweep for glowing eyes.  The cattle drives are increasingly bringing the 500 cows and couple hundred yearlings back to lots on/next to the ranch, so the road is flanked by cows the entire stretch behind barbed wire fences. Only a few spots are there trees, otherwise it is basically open.  Still, I swept.  That first mile I probably looked like I was headbanging sideways (but without hair for effect).  Cow eyes are wide set, and they stay stock still and barely blink, curiously eying you yet not moving.  A skitter - I stopped to assess, though it was only a raccoon climbing a tree.  Those eyes bobble like a baby learning to keep its head up straight while sitting.  As the eyes became more of a pattern I swept more slowly, less frequently.  In my last mile I was a quarter mile from the bridge when I heard lots of splashing and saw eight pairs of eyes moving fast.  I froze.  So did the sloshing.  Then six of them leaped over the barbed wire fence and continued bounding across the road to the next grass lot.  The other two stayed still in the water.  Deer.  I turned back to give them time to cross and be with their herd.  No other trick eyes after that. 

This morning I decided one pretend daredevil run per week was enough for now, so I drove into town early to use the hospital's wellness center.  I figure that during January and February there will be plenty of opportunity for treadmill time when bad weather hits, so why not go ahead and see if treadmill running was as foul as I remembered.  I decided to use it for hill training, since that's what I miss most about mid-week runs are my hill repeats.  I dropped the speed to something that seemed logical compared to previous runs and considering the altitude, upped the incline to 12%.  Whoa, Nelly!  Dropped the speed some more.  A little more.  Toughed it out for half the time I expected, then dropped the incline to 7%.  Kept it a little more reasonable from then on out.  I decidedly miss downhill running, though.  Especially when I made such an effort to learn how to run downhill to avoid pain back in the days when my knees were cranky.  I take pride in that.  And I miss it.  If only treadmills could handle that (affordably).  But at least I got some energy out before the day started.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Vanishing snow

Woke up to a couple inches of snow, enough to cover everything completely, and dense fog so that I could not see the hay bales fifty feet away.  I was worried since both my new mattress set and actual internet were to arrive today.  But then the sun came up.  By a half hour later I could see a figment of the outline of the horse stables.  An hour still, and had full visibility in the valley with fog covering the foothills and beyond.  A little later I looked up - mountains still covered - to then look back five minutes later and they were in full, unobstructed view.  I took a walk in the sun with but speckles of sjow left.  By the time the mattress guys arrived at 11:30 it looked as though nothing had happened at all. 

The internet guy?  No show.  And no call either.  F***er.  He had a window from 1:00-5:00, so I tried to be reasonable and give him the full opportunity to show.  At exactly 5:00 I called the local intermediary that was to do the installation.  Voicemail kicks in because they close at 5:00.  I left a not so nice message about waisting my time.  It will be repeated in excess tomorrow morning.

And so I continue to peck away.

Same window view, all within a 2-hour time frame:

Monday, October 14, 2013

Yellow on blue

I've been listening to ESPN radio on my phone in lieu of TV or internet.  If all goes according to plan, a new mattress set is to arrive Wednesday morning followed by internet that afternoon.  The ranch house is slowly coming together.

Sadie eats an average of eight bugs per day.  Merus has multiple nap locations and, thankfully, does not try to nap beneath the wood stove.  Nathan is back in NYC finishing his last month of work.

I'm finding ways to spend my time.  Like picking up a camera again.  Sad that my film cameras are in storage in upstate NY, but I'm not sure where I could get mt film developed anyways.  Plus this place basically takes pictures for you.

Sunday, October 13, 2013

West, or bust.

After over eight years living in NYC, and in a flurry of recent events, I now live in south cental Colorado.  Forgive the scarcity of posts regarding the transition, as we still do not yet have internet. I am instead pecking out this post on my phone.

We live in the San Luis Valley, the highest alpine desert in the world.  The valley is also deceivingly wide.  Locals describe the area like a tea cup.  The county and valley seat is Alamosa, population somewhere between 8500 and 10,000, which is the tea cup's saucer. That is where I will work in a mix of inpatient and outpatient settings at the San Luis Valley Medical Center.  It is coldest in Alamosa, often rivaling parts of Alaska and the quasi-Canadian Adirondacks of NY with winter lows to -40ยบ due to the "low" elevation of 7500 feet. 

Originally Nathan and I expected to live in Alamosa, using weekends for excursions to the fun mountains at the edge of the teacup - there are, I believe, nine mountains reaching at/over 14'000 feet (aka 14ers) and many more lower peaks accessible to the valley. 

Then I went for a run in Alamosa during our 3-day whirlwind search for housing. I barely made it four and a half miles.  The valley is FLAT, so much so that mother nature rivals the best civil engineers for its widespread accuracy.  In short, I hated it.  The town is proud of its cross country team, which always wins thanks to thorough altitude training.  Me?  I have no interest in flat and fast racing.  That's not why I run.  Accessing incredible locations by foot, exchanging energy with mother nature (who always has a sense of humor!), creating that warm bubble of everything-is-right-with-the-world amid a cold winter run, the challenge of hills and terrain ... that is why I run.  I was not sure how I would withstand the fact that I had significantly better hill training opportunities in NYC than in this Colorado valley.

So while waiting for return calls for a few more apartments, we decided to pass time by taking the 45 minute trip to Del Norte, a town of 1500(?) that sits at the tea cup's curve.  Think of it as the valley's western edge of the foothills, at 8000' elevation.  Welcoming you to the town is Lookout Mountain, a small peak of (I'm guessing here) 8500-9000 that immediately abuts the south end of town. It even had a white D on its side.  Per locals, Del Norte stayed about twenty degrees warmer than Alamosa on those cold nights, since the super cold air tends to sink down into the saucer instead.  

We expected to have lunch there and maybe hit an antique store or two.  As I exited the car I realized we parked in front of a realtor.  Why not?  We inquired for shits and giggles, but they only do sales, and they directed us just around the corner to a realtor who rents.  Lisa was very personable, and before we knew it we were off viewing a rental house on a ranch just outside of town. 

Three hours later, we signed the lease.

Three bedroom farm house (functionally more like two), one bath, rather clean well water, propane tank for cooking and hot water, heated only wood stove.  It has a doorless garage, so at least our vehicle will be decently covered.   A mere couple hundred yards from the super friendly ranch owner (it has been in his family for multiple

That D mini-mountain is now my local training ground.  I've been on it twice already for over an hour each time, and it was profoundly rejuvenating.  There's even a local vegan friendly cafe on the west side of town (Peace Food Cafe, part of The Organic Peddler), and a micro-brewery (Three Barrel Brewery, I think it is called?).  Instead of trudging through the week and driving all over to make up the difference on weekends, we now have a great version as our homestead.  On weekends, we are a mere 10ish miles from Penitente Canyon, and can run from our house once we figure out what is public land and what is private.  (And once the government decides it needs to function again and federal lands open up again.)

Since integrating photos is not the same on the phone app of blogger, here's what you will see below:

- Bedroom window view to the west.
- Bedroom window view the next day, with snow.
- My hearty breakfast at Peace Food Cafe.
- Day 1 in the house's project: stacking a cord of wood, completed by me while Nathan and our rancher landlord wete inside waxing philosophical (sharing notes, not adversely!).
- Sadie and Nathan checking out a bird.
- Merus, warming up to her new abode.  Why my kittehs love sinks I still do not understand.