elder999
07-02-2004, 10:02 AM
My wife and I are so very lucky to live where we do: in the settlement of La Cueva, high in the Jemez Mountains, surrounded by the Santa Fe National Forest. We have very few neighbors, lots of privacy and beautiful surroundings. If we want to play in the forest-which we do quite a bit-we just have to get on our mountain bikes, or our horses ,or our shoes, and step out on our road. We get to see all sorts of wildlife; deer and elk graze on our lawn(pretty much the only reason it’s there), bears maraud our orchard every year (and the dogs chase them away, every year), all sorts of birds go for our feeders, and the cutest little chipmunks have a colony in the rock wall in front of our house. There’s a red-tailed hawk that roosts up the hill in the fall, and every now and then we get to see him swoop down and snatch up a chipmunk, just as we step out our front door! My wife actually sits at the window or on our porch swing with her coffee, and laughs at the chipmunks the way some people would at a cartoon on television.
We’ve got a bit of acreage, and I try to do some subsistence farming. We raise chickens, rabbits, goats-and a buffalo every year, and I garden fairly extensively-my garden is about a half-acre in size. This is no mean feat at an altitude of 8200 ft.: this year our last frost was on the 22nd of May, and the high uV means I have to constantly amend the soil. I was going to sell pumpkins at the local Farmer’s Market this fall-in addition to my usual eating pumpkins, I had planted an heirloom variety that often grows to the size of a washing machine! I also had planted Hopi corn-something I’d had success with when I lived at a lower altitude, but it’s bound to be a challenge where we live now. You have to understand that this is the real stuff: blue Hopi corn, an heirloom variety in itself, and considered by many to be sacred. For me, it epitomizes gardening and farming: the very act of planting it is a prayer, and whatever else I do for it, I am only the planter; the Creator is the grower.
Anyway, we were out a little this past weekend, for a family reunion in Texas. My mother in law’s family….which is another delightful tale: as we were getting ready to go home, my wife’s uncle, this wrinkled, ram-rod straight seventy-two year old farmer, the very epitome of the term red-neck from his boots to his John Deere cap shook my hand and said, “Welcome to our family; I’m proud to know you.” Made the whole trip-which was rather boring-worth it.
When we pulled into our driveway, finally, there was a little chipmunk on the porch, eating a petal from the potted snapdragons that sit there. “Cute,” I thought , and went inside. Then I went out back to check on our livestock, and turn on the irrigation for the garden.
When I got to the garden, the nice row of pumpkins I had sprouting was gone. As were all my greens and spinach, as well as..... the Hopi corn. Closer examination of the garden revealed…….chipmunk tracks.
Those chipmunks-the dirty bastards-ate my prayers! :redhot:
After giving the dogs a sound chewing out for not doing their job,(no steakbones for those fellas any time soon.) I got out the pellet gun and some peanuts, went out to the front porch, spread those peanuts around the rock wall(as we often do), and let the slaughter commence.
I shot Chip, and Dale, had a drink,and then shot more of the little fellas than you’d find in a peanut butter factory, and spread their blood all around my gardren.
Yes, I’m a ruthless killer…..
…..of chipmunks...at least they don't shoot back like cartoon ones...
We’ve got a bit of acreage, and I try to do some subsistence farming. We raise chickens, rabbits, goats-and a buffalo every year, and I garden fairly extensively-my garden is about a half-acre in size. This is no mean feat at an altitude of 8200 ft.: this year our last frost was on the 22nd of May, and the high uV means I have to constantly amend the soil. I was going to sell pumpkins at the local Farmer’s Market this fall-in addition to my usual eating pumpkins, I had planted an heirloom variety that often grows to the size of a washing machine! I also had planted Hopi corn-something I’d had success with when I lived at a lower altitude, but it’s bound to be a challenge where we live now. You have to understand that this is the real stuff: blue Hopi corn, an heirloom variety in itself, and considered by many to be sacred. For me, it epitomizes gardening and farming: the very act of planting it is a prayer, and whatever else I do for it, I am only the planter; the Creator is the grower.
Anyway, we were out a little this past weekend, for a family reunion in Texas. My mother in law’s family….which is another delightful tale: as we were getting ready to go home, my wife’s uncle, this wrinkled, ram-rod straight seventy-two year old farmer, the very epitome of the term red-neck from his boots to his John Deere cap shook my hand and said, “Welcome to our family; I’m proud to know you.” Made the whole trip-which was rather boring-worth it.
When we pulled into our driveway, finally, there was a little chipmunk on the porch, eating a petal from the potted snapdragons that sit there. “Cute,” I thought , and went inside. Then I went out back to check on our livestock, and turn on the irrigation for the garden.
When I got to the garden, the nice row of pumpkins I had sprouting was gone. As were all my greens and spinach, as well as..... the Hopi corn. Closer examination of the garden revealed…….chipmunk tracks.
Those chipmunks-the dirty bastards-ate my prayers! :redhot:
After giving the dogs a sound chewing out for not doing their job,(no steakbones for those fellas any time soon.) I got out the pellet gun and some peanuts, went out to the front porch, spread those peanuts around the rock wall(as we often do), and let the slaughter commence.
I shot Chip, and Dale, had a drink,and then shot more of the little fellas than you’d find in a peanut butter factory, and spread their blood all around my gardren.
Yes, I’m a ruthless killer…..
…..of chipmunks...at least they don't shoot back like cartoon ones...