birds
Rest Impending
The sun grows distant, already so far South, days so brief. Rain has moistened everywhere. Fall is sweeping the farm, triggering bright leaf colors, tree-by-tree, each evening stroll revealing new tones in new places.
The ground blushes newly green from the previous expanse of dark brown soil or gray aged thatch. Millions of seeds germinated on the much-anticipated first significant rainfall this past week. Pairs of many-patterned leaves unfurl from different types of flower seeds while single first grass leaves poke straight up.
More wetting storms are approaching, pushing southward from the distant northern horizon. Beautiful clouds appear, sometimes a skyfull of feathery patterns, other times ominous heavy gray huge pillows. Layers of clouds above oceanward fog are often accentuated by sparkling orange pulses in between them at sunset.
Muffled Song
As the winter approaches, birds become more quiet, their songs more concise. Bird-eating hawks swoop and wheel, frightening seed- and seedling-fattened flocks. Silent spells with no song signals hawk. The consistent whispered squeaks and chirps suggest hawk absence as groups of quail, sparrows, and juncos slowly emerge from cover, pecking up thousands of tasty sprouts; their favorites are abundant: clovers, filaree, medic, lupine, poppy, wild lettuce, and dock. Full bills, filling tummies, hunger satisfied peaceful birds prepare for long stormy wet nights. Each evening at sundown, flocks huddle together in dense clusters surrounded by protective thick tree or shrub canopies. They have already negotiated safe roost locations and even their individual places in the rows along branches. There are a few squabbles at dusk in the roost locations as some on the edges realize disadvantages of their relegated positions. By dark, they have become politely quiet and still.
Tucking in the Trees
As orchard leaves begin to fall, we prepare tree beds for the long slumber. Last weekend, Community Orchardists hauled and spread the final compost and then the last windrows of dried hay. Energetic tree keepers filled and then hauled bucket after bucket scattering compost/worm castings in the understory of each tree. Following them, skilled pitchfork wielding orchardists pitched, piled, and sculpted neat circular hay nests surrounding young trees. Winter snacks and cozy blankets for our tree friends.
Nodding Off, Colorfully
As the trees approach their sleep, leaves brighten then drop. Cherry tree leaves are turning orange-to-red, starting on the sunnier sides of each tree and day by day progressing onto the northern side of the canopy. Apricot, aprium, plums and pluots echo those cherry leaf reds but tend more orange to yellow. Apple tree fall color extends well into winter, slowly unfolding many shades of yellow through February in an extended fall. Most leaf colors change fast and fall quickly, splashing rings of color bright in circles on the ground beneath brief spells of brightness dancing across the orchard among the high held branches.
The Rustling
We were unable to mow every corner of the farm and in some places the dried grass and wildflowers formed thick dry swards. Deer paths wend into these stands. Following these wildlife trails, we find hidden clusters of mashed down straw – cozy deer beds. The breezes sing high schwews on the ridges with more of a full, wooing noise in the nearer conifers, but these tall dry grassy areas make scratchy, rustling noises in the winds at the onset of each storm. The deer thank us for leaving them some dense cover to shield them from the chilly gales through the dark nights.
The Last of the Fruit
Tomato vines whither after rain; winter squash vines long spent, fruit curing; later season apples grow sweeter and crispier with the cool nights. We feel lucky again to find a ripe tomato among the melting vines. Weeds will soon occlude the deliquescent reddish fruit and then all will be tilled and cover cropped.
Two Dog Farm is boxing and curing the bountiful dry farmed winter squash crop, and colorful squash still brighten the fields.
Fuji apples are the last bigger harvest in the orchard. We will gather the last of the apples over the next week and press the last of the culls into the final cider of the season. Much of the orchard has had a final mowing, the harrow scratching in bell beans is close at hand.
Sunsets and Quickening Evenings
The sun speeds quickly towards the west and evenings pass suddenly to night. One moment, the beautiful array at sunset tinges the hills and the next moment colors wash and fade to gray, stars winking into sight until the night sky reveals vast constellations. There is a moment in this transition to night when my attention is drawn to the silhouettes of trees, revealing new characteristics of long familiar friends. Brushy oaks dance on the edge of regal, posturing clusters of redwoods. Then they disappear, overcome by the majesty of night.
Balmy Days, Cool Ocean Breeze
The days have been perfectly warm with a light breeze off the ocean – we have not been smited by the heat so famously noted in inland California and 5. The cool upwelling ocean has been our nearby friend.
Some odd clouds have been streaming overhead, making for glorious sunsets. One sunset this past week was (briefly) completely Pure Lucious Purple.
Cherries Cherries and more Cherries.
In the past two weeks, we’ve harvested 75 pounds off of the 18 trees. There are another 60 pounds at least ripe right now; those we’ll pick for Two Dog Farm to take to the Alemany Farmer’s Market in San Francisco on this Saturday. The heat is making them get ripe in a hurry! Family, friends, and Community Orchardists are thick in cherry fruit, the very best anyone has experienced. Yum.
In the depths of the night, occasionally we get fog. Rarely now, we wake up to a brief patch of fog, but its not too drippy.
Yip Yip Horray!
Also in the deep dark night: coyote chorus. High squeaky notes of coyote song ring out across the farm. At least three animals are celebrating and almost every night, late-late at night.
Giant gopher snakes are out sunning themselves on the road, frequently.
The second, or third, batch of new bunnies has arrived. There are also big batches of new quail everywhere- not still fluffy, but young enough to be Very entertaining to watch in their barely coordinated flights, weaving willy-nilly much to their parents’ chagrin. After such a flush, it must take hours to regather the covey. Another successful reproductive situation: The Deer! A mother deer is trailing a single fawn around the property.
Here’s a confirmation that Maw and Caw have been quite successful again with two adolescent yelling and demanding offspring. They are good parents, watching carefully after the kids.
In a tall tree near the Brush Field, a pair of red tailed hawks have fledged a talkative young one. This is the first pair and the first offspring I’ve seen since my arrival in 2008. We could use more hawk action with the burgeoning bunnies, gophers, and mice.
Hay There
The grass has dried. All of the grass has dried. So, it is time to make the Last Mowing, dust and all. There are three ways to get rid of the hay this late in the season: 1) pile the hay in the field and let it moulder; hope to apply at the onset of rains before it becomes too heavy to move…2) compost it, layered with dirt and weeds, kept moist…3) put it on the dirt roads for dust control. After the CZU fire burned up the freshly applied understory hay, we won’t be fooled again. Wait for more mulch application! Otherwise, we grind up the hay and leave it be in the roadsides and fields where it won’t be harvested. The mice will like it there. I saw a bunny eating such ‘stored’ hay recently.
The Promise of the Future
The past season’s abundant winter rain and the glorious spring that followed are what long attracted back-to-the-land types to California. So much seems possible. Droughts, and people flee. Rainy years, not so much. The grass is drying now, having reached literally taller than my nearly 6’ height. We are cutting a second hay crop. The fruit trees are deep, dark green and pushing new branch shoots past 2’ in many cases. Redwoods are rebounding from their struggle with the drought, fluffy and a deep blue green.
Back from the Roots
Recall that the 2020 fire burned up 25 of our cherry trees and 24 of our avocado trees, but we have been grafting onto the resprouting shoots of their rootstock. Most of the 18 cherry trees that survived were somewhat damaged, but are producing their first rebounded fruit crop…soon to be gobbled up. The adjoining grafted trees are rebounding, also. They were growing so quickly that they had to get their first pruning already and are pushing the next flush of branches. Spanish bush pruning makes us pinch back the growth every time they get to 2’ of new branches, to create reticulations of branches that will densely bear fruit starting next year…at 8 feet height! The avocados are similarly responding, though our attempts at grafting have not been so successful.
Purple and Lapis Lazuli
Purple finches and lazuli buntings are the dominant bird calls on the farm each evening. Closer to the barn, homes, and sheds, the desperate begging of barn swallow babies fills the air at quick intervals as moms and dads return to the nest, their beaks easily filled with the swarms of insects so evident around the farm. Band tailed pigeons pass through and, with the recent breezes, the red tailed hawk has been soaring high overhead once again. I saw the first abundance of baby quail on ‘the big hill’ today; they were just able to fly- klutzily, but at least able to aim (somewhat). Someone reported adolescent turkey birds nearby.
Noise = Production
Some suggest country life is peaceful; I suggest otherwise. Sure, we have peaceful nights…no sirens nearby! July 4th was a distant popping, still stressing the farm dogs. But, almost all day long, most days, there is the whine of machinery. Today, it was weed eaters clearing the vineyard rows. The results are well worth the noise: amazingly well-stewarded beautiful, lush neat grape vines in their first really big-time glory. Other days, it is mowing and tractoring. Lots of traffic on the road, too, as neighbors and workers come and go with all sorts of projects. As some social engineers consider important to ‘prepare America for war,’ the military jets have recently been booming and roaring up and down the coast. In the gaps between the human noises, we can hear the birds.
Warmth (for a bit)
We had a warm spell, but now it returns to chill. Over the weekend, it got into the 80s, which is relatively scorching for us. The Community Orchardists took cover under the canopies of trees and some quit early from the working bee to keep cool. With the warmth, fruit grew considerably faster. The tomato and pepper seedlings jumped to attention with the kind of weather they most enjoy.
Now, the fog returns, a slight midday gap with sun but cool air. There are no sunsets or sunrises but longer dawn and dusk bird chorus’ are the payback.
The Farm’s Furry Beasts
I caught another glimpse of that white foreheaded weasel, which was crossing Molino Creek Farm Road next to Mark and Sharon’s driveway. They move quickly!
Otherwise, all I have to go on is poop. Coyote poop, mainly…here and there. No fox tracks, no fox sightings, no fox poop. What’s up with that? Also, no recent deer sightings that I know of.
Bunnies, however…there are young and old bunnies hopping around! They look well fed. Mice, voles, and gophers are also about, but not as abundant as the prior spring.
We hope you are having some good late spring times!
Bluebird Chicks
Baby bird begging is almost as beguiling as human baby crying. Heads turn to see what the fuss is about. Perched near the nest, the mother holds her wings out just a bit, anxiously glancing around. I haven’t seen any fledglings, but the earliest squeakers must be close to getting out of their nests. At least two bluebird nest boxes have clutches going. There are other species of baby bird noises from nearby shrubs, from holes in cabin walls, from tree hole cavities, from anywhere there might be enough cover. The lush productive spring promises well-fed big baby birds. Next door, the jays have already been at their nasty deeds, tearing apart barn swallow nests to eat eggs for breakfast.
Orange crowned warblers! I’ve been using the Merlin bird call recognition software on my iPhone, and it has been teaching me better bird identification. I didn’t know warbler calls before using this tool, but now I can recognize orange crowned warblers, which are suddenly (for me) everywhere I hike through the forest. Some focused time recently netted several warblers, all nearby: Wilsons, orange-crowned, black throated gray, MacGilvery’s, and yellow. Most of these were close by, from the sound of them, but nearly invisible. They seemed to like darting around just under the canopy of the acres and acres of 4 foot tall, post fire California lilac. Imagine, a sea of glossy green-leaved shrubs with flashes of yellow birds and a constant sweet warbler song.
Sweetness in Scent
Song can be sweet, but so can scent. Molino Creek Farm’s citrus orchard has never had so many blossoms. It is peak citrus blossom time, especially with oranges and their particularly alluring scent. It is dizzying many yards downwind. Closer up, the pure white of their simple flowers is beautiful to look at. This flowering is brief. Soon there will be tiny dark green fruit that will get larger by the week and then slowly turn colorful. The harvest is mostly 9 months away, but still we glean the last few limes, lemons, and tangerines. As the flowers fade and the fruit forms, a new flush of leaves will create thick, sheltering canopies of glossy dark green. We put yoghurt containers of feather meal into the drip lines of the citrus orchard more than a month ago, and it seems to be helping with the generous leafing.
Farm Work
Molino Creek Farm and Two Dog have been planting many plants, and now attention turns to hoes. The last rains spur more weed germination in the dry farmed fields. In the irrigated rows, a massive weed flush threatens to overwhelm the crops. The hoeing race is on!
We are irrigating again: a routine that will last until November. Up early to check the water tank level, turn on irrigation valves, hike around the orchard to see if any irrigation is amiss, fix a leak or two and go home. Lunch time (or later!)- repeat in reverse: turn off the irrigation valves, log the water use, check the storage tanks, and head home again. Big cyclical walks around the farm keep creating material for this writing project.
Half the first round of hay raking is done. Mulch for the orchard gets clipped by a sickle bar mower, then sundried (hah!), then raked, then pitchforked onto the mulch cart, hauled to The Trees, and spread around the rootzone thicker than anyone wants to place it. Really? This thick?! This is the third spring since the fire burned up all the mulch. This will be the last year that weeds come up so thick around the trees. The mulch is thick enough now to subdue seedling weeds. There are also mulch benefits of water retention, slow-release fertilizer, root cooling insulation, and wildlife (vole, lizard, snake) habitat. Long live mulch! Mulch is the key to life!! Under the mulch, worms wiggle and scoot, creating a carpet of 2” deep “castings.”
A Preponderance of Fog
The memory of sunny spring days slipped behind a fog bank. The muffled quietness is emphasized by mysterious pattering drips echoing from the hidden depths of the forest. A single flute-like song from a hermit thrush serenades the slowly darkening evening as it becomes night. The winds have died. All is damp and chill.
Ground Birds
Somehow, the quail predicted this cold spell. Everyone has been asking where the puff ball baby quail are – this is the normal season, and they are late. The fluffy turkey babies are out, though. Passing carefully in our cars, they peep loudly after diving into the ditch, scared that momma will lose them. Mother turkey herds the children a bit, but not too frantically, not like the more fretful quail. The quail are in pairs and in a few small groups, the hens must be full of eggs awaiting the return of warmth. Wet grass is hypothermic to baby birds.
Box Birds
Bluebird parents dip and dive, scooping up caterpillars and bugs. Off they hurry to the nest box where squeaking kids beg noisily for food. Perched at the nest box opening, mother bluebird eyes the gaping mouths of her chicks, picks the lucky one who gets fed, and off she goes to find the next catch. Father bluebird returns with food, same story. They come and go all day, feeding the quickly-growing hungry young ones. In between parental feeding, the babies go quiet. A scrub jay perches on the nest box. Both parents alight nearby. It is a silent standoff for a few minutes until I scare the jay away. Nasty nest predators! Four of the five bluebird boxes have nests this year. Electric blue male bluebirds are quite the color show. We look forward to a menagerie of young in the not-too-distant future.
Lush
The land is lush. Wild oats are 5 feet tall, wild radish bushes 4 feet around, and wild cucumber vines hang heavily on our 7’ fences. A hike through the forest, even on trails has become a swimming breaststroke to part the tall, fast-growing post fire blueblossom bushes. The ground surface is buried under several layers of canopies, hidden holes hold worry for footfall ankle twisting. The native iris are already fading. Nuts hang from hazelnut bush branch tips. The live oaks on the edge of the meadows are dense with new growth and thick with leaves.
Orchard Fruiting
Apple flower petals have long since fallen and small fruit have formed. It is time to thin the fruit, to keep the branches from being too heavy, to make for bigger fruit, and to keep the trees from bearing only in alternate years. The first mow is behind us, but the regrowth is thick already wanting the next mow soon. Wide oat leaves and thinner leaved tufts of dark green weedy rye grass poke up from a thick mat of mowed material. A rich moldy smell permeates the air. Nearby, bell beans and vetch that we missed mowing the first round are vibrantly blooming and growing high. Between cover crop and understory weeds, patches of native strawberry are in fruit: the apple orchard’s first harvest! With the late rain, the strawberries are the biggest we’ve ever seen and oh so sweet!
Farm Work
Farmers are planting, and there are neat rows of seedlings nestling into freshly tilled fields. Onions and sunflowers as well as rows and rows of tomatoes are pushing roots into the soft brown soil.
Also, the mowers are mowing. As is too often the case, one of our BCS tractors went down and is off to repair just when we needed it most. Bob moved the sickle bar mower to the other BCS and off we went once again. Sheaths of grass are felled in neat rows, drying. The timing…as the thistles begin to flower and before the radish seeds get ripe. Earlier, regular we swiped the hay field with the mower to discourage nesting birds- those paths also add heterogeneity for swallow feeding, coyote loping, and skunk snuffling.
Spring Heat then Rain Returning
The warm spring sun began feeling prickly to my skin, and so it was sunscreen and sunhats to go outside. It had been a long time: a long cold, rainy winter. Suddenly, spring pollen dusted everything, everyone sneezing across the farm and into town, sneezes in parking lots, bike paths and in lines at the store. ACHOO!
Spring warmth triggered grass to bolting, really toweringly bolting grass flower heads arching and poking up high, waving pollen from dancing wands ladening the ever present breeze.
A Sudden Dryness
It seemed like the rain was over, as it normally would have been, but we were in for a surprise. Us orchardists hustled to get the irrigation set up, discovering mouse-chew leaks to repair, stuck valves, broken sprinklers – the perennial time-consuming setup always seems to come too late. The ground was DRY…very dry! Cover crop was wilting, bent over in the springtime heat. Digging weeds out from under orchard trees became a hassle, shovels and hoes striking hard ground, ringing metal sounds. It was dry not only on the surface but a foot down into the soil. Last Saturday, I asked my fellow weeder, “anyone discovering any soil moisture?” The answer was a disbelieving ‘No!’ Someone said, ‘It calls for rain.’ Yeah, right. It seemed somehow impossible.
Wind to Rain
The wind picked up strongly that evening and the next day it was blowing trees and branches down, hard gusts joining a steady stiff wind from the northwest. A little drizzle followed. Then there was a shower with quite big drops. A few hours later, another shower, that one longer, also with big raindrops. And then it poured on and off for many hours late through the night. Afterwards, still the soil is only wet about six inches down, but its moist down a foot. That much water will get used up in a few days when the sun shines again. And, it is enough to spur the grass growth (and pollen). What a surprise! At least it will be easier to weed for a few days.
The Resulting Flowers
The flowers are out. Poppies and lupines in peak flower. Cassandra reports binocular-spying a strikingly bright patch of solid lush orange California poppies high on the steep slope across Molino Creek canyon. The coast live oaks, tassels fading, are dense with shiny new leaves, a rich array of greens, each tree its own unique shade. On oak twigs, the tiniest of acorn babies have been born. Forest edge madrone trees display giant pom-poms of white flowers, a celebration of the moist winter. Big yellow blankets of post-fire germinated French broom sweeten the breeze but make my muscles tense with the stress of the seemingly hopeless weed invasion on our farm’s otherwise beautifully diverse hillsides. Redwood sorrel carpets the forest understory with strikingly pink blossoms. The wild iris has begun its colorful parade, trailside through the woodlands.
And Bryophytes
The return of rain also reawakens mosses and lichens. The black walnuts and oaks host a wealth of moss, growing thicker on the older branches and on the shady side of trunks. Summer comes and their thick green piles shrink and fade. Just as quickly, with dense fog (or this rain), they brighten and grow plush once again.
A Deer
An adolescent buck with the faintest of felty nubbins jutting from its forehead warily considered me during a recent walk. At first, its giant pointy ears tilted towards me like satellite dishes honing in on my approach. Each time I get close to deer, I talk to them, gently letting them know that I am no threat. Generally, this slows their retreat, but this one was suspicious. It took off, energetically bounding with all four feet high in the air between pounces. Reaching a good distance, its ears were once again on alert, pointed at me as I tried urge it, ‘don’t worry.’ I looked down and up again. He was gone. Why so concerned, deer? This one was new to the neighborhood, maybe just passing through. People still hunt deer in these hills, so wariness is warrented.
Fruit Forming
Bright white citrus blossoms unfold sweetly while cherry petals drop to reveal shiny fruit. The apple orchard has entered peak bloom. The freshly clipped understory, not long ago was ugly stubble, but now it’s turning green, resprouting through the mown mess. The faint rose smell of apple blossoms is temporarily overpowered by a rain-fetched dank compost smell, hints of the bitterness of rotting chopped up weedy mustards and radishes. At the base of the apple flowers, furry hints of apples to be. Down the hill from the apples, fruit grows fast in our stonefruit grove- mostly various apriums and pluots, a hybrid swarm that also includes the parents, plums and apricots. Those fruits are mostly silver dollar sized, hard as rocks and green. The wild hazelnuts of our hedgerow have set fruit, bracts swelling. Elderberry flower clusters are a curious near-black, their buds forming.
Birds
Barn swallows have formed pairs, their mates arrived sometime in the last couple of weeks. They dive and swoop right past my face, closer than ever, as I mow the orchard. Maybe these are my porch swallows, and they are comfortable with me, and so the proximity. It seems I can feel their wingbeat wind on my cheeks they swoop so close.
The band tailed pigeon flock is back to its more normal farm size: 18 (ish). There were many more last week, but some moved on. As always, they scare easily from the walnut trees where they feast on catkins. Their clapping wings send them quickly skyward where they wheel about in a flock that eventually alights in a tall tree awaiting a safer moment to glide back down to their feast. How many times a day do they make this circuit? Sometimes, we hear them cooing deeply, at times answered by the higher, more sad sounding mourning doves that strut on the ground in pairs across the moist freshly tilled farm soil.
In the understory of the orchards, there are bunches of sharp-billed robins.
Somewhere nearby, there is the call and response sing-song of grosbeaks. In the woods, a flycatcher serenade joins the flute-like Swainson’s thrush song.
There are many other birds making lots of noise. Such is spring on our beautiful, diverse, wildlife friendly organic farm. We are so thankful.
Black Berry Blossom
Wild blackberries are blooming big time. Their brambly tip-rooting canes are sprouting new leaves and are festooned with bright white five-petalled flowers. In rare years, they make tasty, juicy berries, but mostly the weather turns hot and dry, and the fruits are seedy/not-so juicy. Currently, they are making pollen and nectar for the emerging bumble bees, while we dream of the tasty fruit. Wild blackberries are the dominant wildflower right now on the farm, creating hedgelets along all the fences ‘cause that’s where we can’t mow them too much. They arch out from there onto our fence-side trails: trip hazards!
Wild Lilac
Soon, there will be more wildflowers – spring is on the verge of letting loose! Nearby, on south-facing shallow-soiled spots, the poppy displays are epic splashes of orange, bigger than any recent year. Across Molino Creek, on that steep south facing slope, a large patch of poppy orange has erupted where before the fire there had been shrubs. I’m looking forward to the woodland iris displays, though they are getting overtaken by post-fire shrubs like blue blossom (Ceanothus), which is starting to blossom as well. In about 2 weeks, there will be miles of blue blossom shrubs blooming about 5 feet high across at least half of the 85,000-acre burn footprint of the 2020 CZU Lightning Complex Fire. Imagine a sea of powder blue, framed by glossy light green leaves…thousands of acres of rolling wild lilac scent wafting headily, luring you to just stand still and gaze.
Ridge Guardians
More than a few of the noble ridge-line tree skeletons have fallen, but many remain silhouetted on the ridgelines. The redwoods have enjoyed the rain and are recovering from drought and fire with luxurious new growth; the ones that burned hotter sprouting from only their trunks…others from their branches…and all of them from the base of their trunks with 5’+ tall sprouts sprinting skyward. And everywhere, between it all, so very green and lush, but the ground is getting drier.
Drying Out
Even with all the rain, the ground is starting to dry out. Once the rain stops, even for a little while, the long days and the strong breezy days we’ve been having make for quick dry soil. The upper 2” of soil is dry, dry, but below it is still pretty moist. Gophers are awaking and their soil throws are starting to appear, moist piles burying the surrounding lush grass. Roots pump moisture from deep in the earth and plants grow quickly to blossom and seed before the last moisture is gone and the long dry summer sets in.
Green Manure
The most proud bolt is in cover crop land. Thick bell bean stalks sport rows of big white flowers and flapping succulent leaves. Twining ferny leaved vetch climbs up those stalks. Pert sharp leaves of oats grow in thick forests through it all, promising tons of tough stems for future spongy soil organic matter.
Along Come the Mowers
Back and forth, hither and yon, the mowers must mow. Behind the machines, dense mats of sweet-smelling chopped up vegetation, either to be tractored into the soil or left on top as mulch, protecting the earthworms from sunburn. We rush to mow the farm fields and the orchard understory to keep the plants from sucking up the soil moisture, to keep the water for the crops to delay irrigation for as long as we can.
It’s suddenly become a busy time around the Farm. I suspect the spring is revving everyone’s energy about now. Keep calm and plod forward!
Waves and Cold Rain
First, there was the roar of big waves. It was mild weather, so I left the windows open a crack for fresh air. Open windows are also a treat for outdoor sounds, but something wasn’t right. What might have been the noise of a commercial jet was too consistent, lasting far too long. The air was trembling, the low noise slightly alarming. The waves were back! It has been a long time since the farm vibrated from big waves. Sometimes, it is hard to tell if it is just noise or if the earth itself is shaking. Radio stations warned of sneaker waves. Looking down towards the coast, there were big rolling corduroy ocean patterns.
Precip
Then, there was the rain. The setup was telling. Those waves were followed by an odd hazey sky and then there were colorful sunrises and sunsets and different cloud formations drifting in from various directions. Obviously, the weather was changing. Forecasters at first predicted one-tenth inch, then maybe a quarter, and revised yet again to perhaps a half inch. Tuesday morning was the predicted storm and it occurred on schedule with what I call a ‘small raindrop contest’ – every raindrop trying to be teensy and spread out. Then, dawn brought a precursor shower that wet things pretty good. It wasn’t until mid afternoon when the sky dropped torrents for a short bit as a narrow band of rain swept in from the North. At sea level just downhill not even a quarter inch, but up at 900’ we got more: .81”
With the rain came the cold and a trailing bit of chilly showers. Gray threatening puffy clouds sporadically appeared next to bands and walls of mist. At times, all clouds disappeared and the sun shone or the stars brightly sparkled. It has been a dynamic beginning of the week!
Slow Birds
The cold makes the birds move slower. The hundreds of high cheeping dark eyed juncos are feasting on seeds along roadsides and hesitant to move away. When they do scatter, they play leap frog one over the next as if a slow motion windblown rolling wave of twittering bird confetti. The hawks perch on fence posts far too closely when you walk by. Quail wait, thinking they can hide and not have to move but then panic, flush, whir, and bounce off of fences and bushes in their chilled-brain bad aim haste. Before this rain wet the ground, the quail were leaving oodles of the best foot prints on our dusty roads as they mopped up thousands of sprouting seeds and seedlings. They will soon be eating only salad. There are lots of quail around right now!
Chill
Burr. It’s cold! How cold is cold my back east father asked (Hi Dad!): well, it was 53F as a high today. It’ll be in the low 40’s tonight along the coast but frost is possible inland. Those temperatures are cold for us and will spur a whole new round of winter symptoms. The young grass will turn beautiful shades of red and purple at tips of their blades. The already changing grape leaves in the 2 Dog Vineyard will brighten to a better yellow.
Peent!
In prior blogs, I’ve commented on the winter vs. the summer birds and have before mentioned the red-breasted sapsucker saga, but I hadn’t thought too much about my observations that they are Molino winter birds. Audubon has a range map that shows their winter vs. summer haunts. The map is quite odd. They are mapped as very definitely only winter birds here, but there are areas to our far South and not that far North where this species lives all year round. Now…why would they leave here in the Summer?? Frequent readers with good recall may remember that we had a pair of these birds (they mate for life) but one got et, presumably by a Coooper’s hawk; the one remaining returned alone for a few winters. And then there were none. And now there are three. 3!! Bill Yates pointed them out, including a note that one was potentially a juvenile. Now we have a family of sapsuckers and an eruption of new holes in the bark of our orchard trees. Swarms of ants are drinking at those sapsucker bark wells. So are hummingbirds, which solves one of my mysteries about what the heck hummingbirds were feeding on this time of year, when there are no nectar producing wildflowers around here.
Orchard Stuff
Meanwhile, in the orchard…We still have apples! 2 Dog is selling our apples at Heart of the City and Alemany Markets and Roland is peddling our apples at the Wednesday downtown Santa Cruz Market. The Fuji apples are deservedly quite popular: crunchy and sweet. The Braeburn apples are even crunchier, though not as sweet- they have a more complex flavor. Those are the two varieties that are ripe right now and the last ones to go to market…for maybe two more weeks. It has been a long and productive apple season. You’ll want to get some of these late season apples before they are gone! It will be a long wait until next year’s Molino apple harvest.
I personally walked backwards steering the harrow for another 5 rows this week right before the rain, hoping that the additional predicted moisture would help along the germination. The cold will slow it down. A mixed flock of Brewers and bicolor blackbirds have been feasting on the seeds. So many have moved onto the farm that they now form murmurations, though I wonder if that term is reserved for starlings.
For the past many years, we’ve had to wait until January and beyond for citrus to ripen: not so this year. The harvest is ripening 2 months early and we’ll soon have the second citrus harvest of the year. The Robertson oranges are nearly ripe. The Persian limes are turning yellow, nearly ripe! Our first Improved Meyer lemons are getting tasty, too. Only the mandarins will not make a second crop this time.
Shake Rattle
The last thing to report is the Earthquake from last Friday. It was a long roller with strength. USGS recorded it as a 5.1 on the Richter Scale, centered just east of San Jose – not that far as the raven flies. Pictures were askew on our walls, new hairline cracks in the drywall and stucco. But, nothing fell from the shelves! A reminder that we are in earthquake country. I wonder how many of the fallen apples were due to seismic shaking?
Be well and have a good rest of the week!
Moderate Clime, Harvesting
Across the farm, people are awake before dawn, lights winking on while the stars still shine. We pull on our clothes, make coffee, eat a snack, and prepare to head out as soon as there is any light at all. I mosey across the farm, turning on water valves…that freak early rain was so far in the past that it is time for the once-a-week soil soak again beneath the orchard trees. I pace back and forth down each row of trees examining the micro sprinklers and irrigation tubing to check for any leaks. Mice, rabbits and gophers sometimes chew the lines: I mostly listen for gushing leaks, but sometimes I see them before I hear that awful sound. Leaks repaired, water on, I head to my paying, indoor job. Other farmers keep going as farming is their mainstay.
Midday Work
We still pull our sun hats from the peg next to the door before heading out to work the farm when the sun is up. Sun heat prickles bare skin though the air temperature is perfectly moderate. It is harvest time. Crews pick apples twice a week for markets: we navigate ladders high into trees after the ground picking crew has finished what is reachable. Shoulder-slung bags full of fruit get dumped into sorting bins and the sorters go to work: bad apples to the compost, barely okay apples to the cider press, almost perfect apples gifted to the Pacific School food program, perfect apples to 4 different farmers markets.
Apples off to Market
Farmers load, haul, and set up displays of boxes of beautiful, community-grown apples where people gather for produce at local farmers markets: Saturdays at Palo Alto and via 2 Dog in San Francisco at Alemany the “People’s Farmer’s Market” and then again on Wednesdays via 2 Dog at Heart of the City (SF) as well as Molino Creek Farm’s stand at the Wednesday market in downtown Santa Cruz. We are selling 400+ pounds a week, more than twice what we ever sold before- post fire resilience and the fruits of many people’s labor.
Evening Glow
As the sun sets, we begrudgingly wind down. There are not enough hours of light to deal with the harvest, so we often have to make lists of work to be deferred until the next morning. Harvest bags get packed into mouse proof bins, I check that gates are closed against the evening’s marauding deer, I give a final twist to shut off irrigation valves and update the watering log book, and then I clean and put away the tools. Brushing off the dust and dirt from my work pants and stomping off my boots, I head home as darkness sets in. The first crickets are singing, and an owl begins its nighttime hoots. Cold clean-smelling air settles into the low points on the farm, the higher points are still warm and smell resiny from the last sun warming the coyote brush.
Deer, No Bobcats
The male deer are sparring, and one has cracked one of the points on its antler. Three male deer, one larger, are strutting around, following the four or so does that frequent the farm nowadays. The larger buck and the larger doe are frequently at the cull apple pile in the evening: that will help them bulk up for the cold, rainy winter!
Where is bobcat, coyote, and fox? The plethora of gophers fills us with consternation. Nearly every square foot of ground has been tossed and turned. I find fresh moist subsoil piles at 100’ intervals every day. The hawks scream and reel, crisscrossing the fields. A kestrel eviscerated a gopher on top of a stump next to my office window midday the other day…he plucked its fur off as much as he could before getting to work tearing apart and swallowing the better food.
The raptors are not enough, and the snakes and lizards are slowing down. We need the mesopredators! Two foxes traipsed along the road down from the farm the other day. I haven’t seen a bobcat in a year. A wave of canine distemper is reportedly still raging across our region, which might explain why there aren’t many fox or coyote, but feline distemper hasn’t been a big issue…so why aren’t there more bobcats? They would be so well fed!
Green or Freshly Tilled Fields
The rain two weeks ago germinated millions of seeds and now seedlings are greening the landscape. Where we didn’t get to raking the last harvest in the hayfields, the grass is the tallest, growing through the thick mulch. We took advantage of that early germination to weed the fallow farm fields- disking the crop of weeds into the soil, preparing for planting the cover crop. The farm has beautiful contrasting patches of brown and green.
Late Season Flowers
Amazingly, the bees have forage. It is ironic that it is harvest time for the humans and the bees might be hungry. Fall and early winter are starkest times for pollinators. Hummingbirds and bees flock to irrigated salvias in our gardens. But still, the coyote bush is in full bloom- but there are only a few old enough to flower- the fire spared ones are abuzz with diverse flying pollinators: flies, bees, and wasps. Evening brings the hawk moths to the jimson weed aka Datura and evening primrose, wildflowers that are also taking advantage of the garden irrigation for late season blossoming.
Fall Color Commences
Each year, the obvious harbingers of fall are our many black walnut trees. Descendants of the Mother Tree in the Yard, the younger walnut trees turn lemon yellow starting from the highest, driest trees and ending with the Mother Tree. It is a count down clock to winter. The last trees to show fall color are at the very lowest elevation- in the north apple orchard, on the steep north facing slope of Molino Creek Canyon. Those apple trees turn yellow in late December and early January…slowly dropping leaves into February.
We hope you are getting out to the fall colors of our area, in the shadier canyons where the big leaf maples, roses and hazelnuts are starting to show.
Bluebirds Now, Acorns Later
The bluebirds’ wet warbles call from fence lines, the birds swoop, scooping up grasshoppers from the dusty ground, picking off caterpillars from stalks of dry grass. Acorns fatten on the oaks, not yet ripe, not yet falling. The days shimmer from bright sunshine and a clear dark blue sky. It is nearly half way between the summer solstice and the fall equinox; the days are becoming noticeably shorter, the nights sometimes warmer, the cricket songs more diverse and louder. And, full moon is tomorrow.
The Silence of the Birds
The jays and acorn woodpeckers are more silent. Most of the birds have quieted considerably. Cooper’s hawk is terrorizing the entire range of bird life, but the quail are its favorite game. It is everywhere: flying through the apple orchard, winging around corners of buildings, soaring above the fields…full of the energy of the hunt. The northern harrier is more surprising, returning for stints and then disappearing for a day or hours – its hunting ground extends beyond Molino Creek Farm. Two red tailed hawks are constantly but less energetically hunting, sometimes soaring, often perched, watching, waiting. The night brings the barn owls’ metallic screech; these are as commonly calling as the great horned owls- the fire may have favored the return of barnies because there is less of the great horned’s favorite dense tall forest cover. There’s even a barn owl baby calling in the San Vicente creek canyon just over the ridge. I worry, though, since there are great horned owls…when will we find a pile of barn owl feathers in the field- that’s a repeating pattern: the great horned owls always seem to win.
Sunflower Show
Judy’s sunflowers are making quite a show. What skill to keep a batch always coming into bloom through the entire farming season, making bouquets for farmers’ markets each week. Bright yellow cheerful sunflower heads…the dominant cut flower in the irrigated field alongside onions, zucchinis, cucumbers, and pole beans. She grows a lovely small patch of diverse market crops.
Apples A’ Hoy
Meanwhile, in the apple orchard the burgeoning crop of fruit is unbelievably large. Almost every branch of every apple tree is bent with full weight of fattening fruit, props holding them from breaking or resting on the ground. The frequent zipping by of the hawks have substantially decreased bird damage to apple fruit. Gala apples are always the winners: last to set and first to ripen. We recalled that the second week of September is the week of gala, but it might be early…
Oranges at Molino? Moooo
On Citrus Hill, near the Barn, we have been plucking cara cara oranges from the two trees we planted a few years back. The first substantial crop of cara cara has been wonderfully juicy and sweet: Score! Cara cara navel oranges are crosses between ruby red grapefruit and navel orange. Its flesh is redder than normal oranges. We are very very stoked to be able to grow a tasty orange: the others we’ve tried make okay juice, but they aren’t that good to eat just plain- cara cara oranges ARE good.
Night Walks
Shorter, hotter days create conditions for night watering of the orchard, leading to late night walks to turn off irrigation valves. This leads me to unavoidable opportunities for nurturing the nocturnal naturalist in me. Tonight’s observation: black widow spiders aka Molino farm road median lurkers. Over and over again I witnessed (for the first time!) black widow spiders busily building web networks 4” or less from the soil surface on the unimproved road median strips, emanating from web encrusted gopher holes that must be their lairs. Another nocturnal roadside observation: the emergence of many brown field crickets, now evident in the chorus from various areas. Also, slender shiny dark brown ‘night ants,’ tiny cockroaches, big greasy looking black field crickets, and a myriad of different spiders. No mammalian eye shine gave something away with my bright headlamp, darn.
Rodent Fiasco
The fact that this is an epic Rodent Year still is in force. Mark Jones reports hundreds of rodents fleeing the path of the mower. Every inch has been rototilled by gophers. Farmers are losing crops. Orchardists are seeing girdling, making for more urgent trunk clearing. Every storage shed reeks of mice. A family of 10 mickey mouse deermice greeted me when opening up the small orchard tool storage shed. The bunnies have proliferated in areas, as well. And that fox which we had been seeing down the road a bit…well, its moved onto the farm! Prints in the dust, leaping fox scattering to hide: welcome back Gray Fox!
Hoping you get some warm weather basking!
Molino Creek Farm 