Fort Knox, Baby!

This time of year, it's all about the yard.

Early spring and warmer temps has brought out a more active rodent population, and we have Ground Squirrels in great abundance. After the first mow of the season out back, we discovered about a hundred squirrel holes. Probably something needs to be done...the question is: what.

Our Great Horned Owl and Eagle friends will be dining on them, so nothing poisonous. We already have a dog who gives a merry chase, but not enough of a threat to oust them. Once we burn the yard debris and haul off what remains, it may limit their sheltered dens.

We picked up an airhorn, the kind that people blare at football games, and neighbors recommend we just kill them dead with a .22. We considered flooding them out but the ending scene of Paint Your Wagon came to mind and we chose not to risk watching the entire yard sink into the miles of hollow tunnels below.

It is beautiful, dark, nutrient-rich soil and crying out for a simple hoe to plant rows for plants right into the ground. But unless we want to raise food for the ground squirrels, it needs to be in raised beds that sit on chickenwire which covers the whole area and is wired to a perimeter fence.  And you know even with all this Herculean effort, the birds will more than help themselves.

The beds will be 5 by10, with a couple of separate planters for wandering herbs. Of course irrigation by hand until we work something else out.  So it's off to Home Depot and Tractor Supply on Saturday morning for supplies.  Excited!

The weekend will be thick with building, sawing, measuring, and sometime soon a Bobcat to move the earth around, and a dump load of compost to be shoveled in for good measure. By early April we should be ready to roll.

In the meantime, three orange trees will find their homes this weekend, and with any luck the lemons and lime. Gotta love spring!

Meyer Lemon Marmalade (from the Web)

I've never eaten marmalade, but that didn't stop me from making one. While flipping through Food in Jars, I saw a recipe for Meyer Lemon Marmalade. With Meyer lemons so cheap this time of the year, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to try. My sample tastes thus far indicate I may indeed like marmalade. If nothing else, it sure is pretty.

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Meyer Lemon Marmalade
3 lbs. Meyer lemons
5 1/2 cups sugar, divided
6 cups water

Wash the lemons in warm, soapy water and dry thoroughly. Using a sharp knife, cut both the flower and stem ends off each lemon. Sit each lemon on one of its newly flat ends, and cut into 6 to 8 wedges depending on size of the lemon. Lay each lemon wedge on its side, and cut away the strip of inner membrane and seeds. Reserve those in a cheesecloth or clean coffee filter.

Cut each trimmed wedge into 1/8- to 1/4-inch slices. You want pieces of lemon no thicker than 1/4 inch and no longer than 1 1/4 inches. Repeat this with all lemon wedges.

Combine lemons with 2 cups sugar. Stir to help sugar dissolve. Place reserved seed bundle into the container (making sure the seed bundle is securely fastened to prevent seeds from escaping). Refrigerate at least overnight and up to 48 hours.

Prepare a boiling water bath and 4 1-pint jars. Pour macerated lemon bits with their juice and the seed bundle into a large pot. Add remaining 3 1/2 cups sugar and water. Slowly bring to a boil over high heat, stirring often. Once it has reached a boil, attach a candy thermometer.

Continue to cook vigorously until the mixture reaches 220°F. (This takes usually 30 to 40 minutes of continuous cooking and regular stirring.) When marmalade reaches 220°F and sustains that temperature for 1 minute (even after stirring), test the set of the marmalade by placing a small amount on a chilled saucer. If the set isn't right for you, cook another 5 minutes before testing again. Once the set meets your satisfaction, remove the pot from heat. Stir for 1 minute to distribute lemon pieces evenly, and ladle into prepared jars.

Process in a boiling water bath 10 minutes. Makes 4 pints.

The Trees Have Eyes

I had a moment the other day that reminded me of scuba diving.

While diving the first time and exploring a shallow wreck, maybe 100 yards offshore and about 20 feet down, a Moray eel came jutting out from a little portal in the vessel and swam right by me. Not only did I have no time to react, but I knew for certain that I was no longer at the top of the food chain.

We are hopelessly in love with this natural, open land. There is an excitement that builds as I pass the old exit, knowing that in 10 minutes I will see the fields with baby fruit trees whose trunks are wrapped in plastic sleeves, turn left at the little white building marked with a Z and head up the first gravel drive on the left.

 
Our slice of heaven has weeds galore, peeling paint, a growing burn pile in back, scruffy and unkept planting areas, and I tell you, I can't wait to catch sight of it in the distance and wonder if dinner is on and the front porch is lit. Yes, and yes.

I am last to leave for work, and there's a ritual with the dog. First, we play 'find it' with little treats tossed in all the rooms. Then it's outside to potty and a good long run out back for squirrels or bunnies that are waiting to be chased. After some really good sniffs she runs faster and faster gaining momentum, and like greased lightning makes a beeline for me on a full out run that usually involves an in-air collision with my work slacks if I do not step out of the way.

One day last week, after all the excitement of goodbyes, I was being watched as I walked to the garage. In one of the oaks out back was ... a hawk? no, too big ... an owl? wrong shape ... an eagle? Yes, an Eagle. It stood well over 2 feet and casually watched me in an unintimidated way, although I cannot say the same.

I looked for him after work with no luck, and he appeared a week to the day later, at dusk, in a tree out front. He is probably a juvenile Golden Eagle, not yet having achieved the fearsome full height and wingspan of an adult, but unquestionably the biggest bird I have ever seen up close.

That tingling sensation from the scuba days came back: Dorothy! We're not in Kansas anymore :)

Something appears to be upending the pecking order. The research bears that out, that Goldens are keen and swift hunters, and unafraid to take on larger animals, including the two legged ones, when they are threatened or food is scarce. Fortunately the fields have many egrets, a thousand ground squirrels, wild bunnies, and a vast variety of birds.

It's a steep learning curve for this new eco-system we have joined. Lesson one is to keep a sharper eye on our guests (both two and four legged ones), especially during the birds' mating season.

It is a sensational view from the ringside, although secretly I hope the 60 square mile territory of the Golden Eagle will draw it away so the nesting area of the GHOs is left unchallenged. Great Horned Owls have a territory of roughly an acre, which feels a little cramped at the moment.

No matter what, it promises to be an interesting spring. Whose nest is it?

Going Buggy

There's this project house next door that occasionally has the sounds of nailing and sawing. It was built alongside this house and was engaged in life then, but not now. It looks dark and abandoned, like this was before someone lovingly saw the potential here and brought it back to life. The house next door is still waiting for its Fairy Godmother.

Project House is on the other side of the fence

Nothing precise has emerged about how these homes fell into ruin. We generally learned the farmers had died away, the heirs sold off the land and kept the houses as rentals until they tired of that.  What is clear is these homes are part of Zamora's history, and when we mention the home to other farmers, their smiles light up as they tell us about coming here to play and swim in the summer.  

It's pretty rough. Chicken wire covers the upstairs window next door and the pool stands with green sludge that fills partway with rainwater. Everything is overgrown, but the bones are there - you can see through the windows the architectural details, hardwood floors, and layout.

Our only problem is with the pool. The Mosquito Vector modestly intervenes, and Mosquito Fish dine around the clock, but mosquitos continue to breed happily here at an alarming rate.

This irritates us to no end. Armed with a hundred dollars' worth of Skin So Soft, we douse ourselves before going outside and are inevitablly driven indoors an hour before dusk by the army of mosquitos relentlessly searching for a spot on our arm we might have missed.

There are plants that detract mosquitos and those will be clever additions to the landscape plantings. Cintronella Grass grows wild here but unfortunately smells like citronella, but it might be alright in outlying areas; marigolds we plant already, and there are others: Lemon Grass, Catnip and Ageratum. Probably all of them will end up here.

And a Bat. Did you know a bat can eat 1,000 mosquitos an hour?  We have a few bats that flop around in summer and fall, and now know what draws them here. A bat house was suggested in a distant tree, which at first sounded intriguing -- to create our own little supercharged mosquito chomping team of Superheroes.

Pool beyond the cyclone fence, mid to upper right side

But considering bats carry transmitable viruses like rats do, the temptation vanished almost instantly. The local septic guy who is big and burly told us he and his brothers use Skin So Soft around the clock - if it's good enough for them it's good enough for us! But we'll never stop hoping for a chance to pour a bucket of bleach into the pool or sump pump the standing water out altogether.

Awesome Neighbors

So many interesting things have come our way since moving to the country. All of them good.

For instance, the well guys were out last week and bled the well to get rid of the sulfur water smell. They gave us all sorts of tips on maintenance and some insight into the features of the well, things that will be useful going forward.

And then there's the owls that have made quite a racket in the last couple of weeks, who have been in the background hoo-hoo-hoo-ing before mating season when they became more vocal and visible.

We would see them occasionally fly between Italian Cypress trees or from the Valley Oaks to somewhere in back, a huge bird with variegated brown feathers and such broad wingspans it seemed impossible to be an owl.


But it was an owl. It did not take long to discover how incredibly smart they are, confident hunters and with established routines at the homestead which has been theirs for countless years. Their hearing is so acute that as we listened to their hooting through closed doors and windows they were listening to us, and when we pulled up an owl website on the computer with samples of hooting calls the owls answered from the tops of the trees.

We were definitely not alone, but what type of owl were they? Friends suggested all sorts of possibilities, but the hooting calls most resembled the Great Horned Owl, indiginous to this area, and the largest of the owl family. Standing nearly 2 feet tall, they are barrel bodied and appear to be much heavier than they are. They are monogamous, non-migratory and ferocious hunters.

We looked for them as they courted and mated. No luck. We could hear them from the closest trees but couldn't catch a glimpse. And then just before dusk last Thursday night, there it was, in the huge oak out front, vibrant yellow eyes watching us as we excitedly took pictures. It flew to a neighboring tree and there sat its mate, we imagined with one eye on the fields and one eye on us.

They were Great Horned Owls, and there was no question that we had been thrust into a long-standing eco-system. We felt enormous respect for the chance to be in this spot surrounded by ample food for these majestic birds.  If all goes well, they will raise one to three offspring. We are reading up on nesting preferences, and kicking around the idea of building a nesting box should the Hubs be able to install it this weekend high in the oak across from the upstairs window.

It will be thrilling to see the babies become branchers and then  flutterers and finally move out on their own.  What awesome neighbors.