Lion About

3 legs and a tail

I saw my first mountain lion in the wild on a recent Saturday. I was home getting the house ready for painting and the phone rang about noon. It was one of the supervising rangers. A mountain lion had been reported in a tree in one of the preserves. We quickly exchanged facts. Rangers were on the way to confirm the sighting and determine a response. I reported the gut pile I found in the creek at the same preserve the day before, probably from a mountain lion kill of a deer. I agreed to meet the rangers at the preserve in 20 minutes to evaluate the situation. An advantage of living on the Dipper Ranch, the backside of one of the open space preserves, is even during off-hours the rangers can easily reach me and I can get to most of the preserves in a short period of time.

I leaned over and turned on my dispatch radio and then flew about the house grabbing my field notebook and pack. By the time I headed out the door, I heard the call come over the radio, "Animal located in tree above trail." The rangers' voices were low and their words were clipped. I thought, "This is the real thing." We get many reports of mountain lions that turn out to be bobcats, coyotes, foxes or house cats. Even when they are correctly identified, mountain lions quickly slip away in the presence of humans like tawny ghosts. Every few months, I see evidence that mountain lions live in the Santa Cruz Mountains (deer kills, tracks, large scat with scrape marks), yet they are so secretive, I had never actually seen a mountain lion roaming these hills. My hands were shaking as I unlocked the Dipper Ranch gate and I reminded myself to slow down and drive carefully on these winding country roads with weekend cyclists and beach-bound traffic.

When I got to the parking lot, I radio-ed in for permission to enter the preserve. I passed one ranger moving people out of the preserve, and he pointed me in the right direction with a few words. I knew the trail well and had just been there the day before. I turned down the volume on my radio and strained to catch sight of the rangers while keeping my steps controlled, searching the forest up and down, and calming my breath. Through the trees, I finally spotted the reflective "Ranger" tag across someone's jacket. I cleared my throat to let them know I was there and they pointed.

The day before, we discovered intestines in the creek.

Forty feet up a black oak tree, 4 large furry legs dangled to each side of a deciduous branch. Make that 3 legs and one long, fat tail. The lion was resting in speckled light with its head away from us. We could detect some slight movements of its head, but mostly, it seemed to be sleeping. We were speaking in low voices and I was fumbling between binoculars and camera. I quickly realized the nap tree was near the gut pile I had seen the day before, and it was likely the lion could see its deer carcass from its high perch. Lions usually pull the guts out of a deer and set them neatly aside before feasting on the carcass. The gut pile I had seen in a creek had probably washed down in recent rains from a deer carcass further uphill. Lions often feed on a kill, then partially bury or otherwise hide the remaining carcass for subsequent feeding over the next few days. They may stay in the area of the kill. This lion seemed to be sleeping off a meal in view of its stash, and was likely to stay in the area for a while.

Big animal napping camouflaged in tree.

We decided to continue getting all visitors out of the preserve and close it until the lion was done resting so close to a popular trail. The supervising ranger was on the radio directing other rangers to clear all trails and post warning signs. He contacted dispatch to notify adjacent park managers and communicate with the California Department of Fish and Game. Everything was going very smoothly even though we were simultaneously thrilled to see a nonthreatening mountain lion and concerned to avoid any type of human-lion conflict.

Eventually, the lion lazily raised its head and looked over its shoulder at us. It didn't seem very concerned about the small group of people way below it, watched for a few moments and then turned and rested its head pointed in the other direction. We could see its ears still on alert but the rest of the body remained relaxed. Nevertheless, we pulled out of the area to give it more room and to allow us to talk freely.

Telephoto lens - we were NOT that close.

We work with the California Department of Fish and Game to keep people safe in the outdoors but also protect the wildlife. This mountain lion was not acting aggressively towards people and was exhibiting normal behavior for a large predator (eat, sleep). In this case, because the lion was likely to stay near the assumed carcass, and that happened to be close to a busy trail, it was best to get the people out of the way to avoid any conflict. As one of the state wildlife managers frequently tells me, it is easier to talk to people than to wildlife. We decided to leave the preserve closed for the rest of the day. We would check it early the next morning, and if there were any signs of the lion or the carcass near the trail, we would keep the preserve closed. We made sure that we were following the steps outlined in our animal response protocol, had informed all relevant parties, and were clear on our assignments.

A night hike at the Driscoll ponds

Excited and relieved, I left the preserve to escort a night hike into a new preserve. That hike was about little things, frogs and newts, and it was a beautiful evening to be outside. Still, the outdoors had an edge to it after seeing a mountain lion casually occupy its territory.

The next morning, we assembled in the preserve parking lot again. A neighbor 1.5 miles away had seen a mountain lion cross through their yard near dawn. This neighbor was very familiar with wildlife and had previously seen lions, so we were confident this was an accurate report. We did not know if this was the same lion we had seen in the tree, or the other half of a pair of lions that had been irregularly reported in the general area over the past few weeks.

Alert deer at the preserve the next morning

We checked the nap tree and the lion was gone. As a group, we slowly checked all nearby trails, peering through underbrush and looking up more frequently than we are accustomed. With no signs of the lion or a carcass, we reopened the preserve later in the morning with notices posted at all trailheads that a mountain lion had recently been observed in the preserve.

I went to the field office to document the sightings and made a round of phone calls. I was fortunate to reach the person who originally reported the lion on Saturday. He had been hiking with his 5-year old son when they looked up to see what the ravens were screaming about. Without the ravens' ruckus as they harassed and scolded the lion-in-a-tree, the hikers would have never noticed the lion. The lion was lazily waving a tail or paw towards the ravens but seemed mostly intent on napping. Although intrigued, the hiker headed back to the parking lot with his son close to him. He passed and warned another pair of visitors and then called the emergency contact number posted in the parking lot. He clearly described the sighting to the dispatcher so that the rangers readily found the same location when they arrived a short time later.

I complimented the observer as he had responsibly and safely responded to the situation and quickly reported it. We discussed his son's reaction - he was excited to report his hiking adventure to his kindergarten friends. I reviewed mountain lion safety tips with them and asked that they share these with his buddies. I also directed them to the Keep Me Wild section of Fish and Game's website that gives tips on how to interact with wildlife safely and respectfully.

While I was writing up that report, the rangers called me on the radio about a mountain lion sighting at another preserve near Horseshoe Lake and in the vicinity of the dawn report. The reporting party was in the parking lot. I asked them to wait and drove 5 minutes down the road. The reporting party described seeing a cat cross a clearing between a restored oak forest and the lake, so we took a walk in that direction. She had entered the preserve a few hours earlier to observe birds for the Audubon Great Backyard Bird Count, and had noticed the bright yellow notice at the trailhead about a recent mountain lion sighting in the area. Shortly after starting her hike, she spotted a brown, long-legged cat and in her binoculars watched it saunter towards the trees. She did not see the tail but thought it was just the angle of her view. Curious, she originally hiked in the direction of the cat, but as she got into the heavy trees, she became nervous and walked around the lake in the other direction.

Over the next hour, she recorded the birds she saw in her field notebook, but did not see any further signs of the cat. When she got back to the parking lot she saw a ranger and reported her sighting. When I arrived, I listened carefully to her description, reviewed safety precautions and thanked her. As with many reports, it was impossible to tell whether she had actually seen a mountain lion or not, but we keep records because it is often the pattern of multiple reports that best reveals behavior of these furtive animals.

As she got into her car, I remembered I had photos of the dangling lion on my camera. I showed them to her hoping to elicit a response on the lion's appearance compared to her observation. She was astonished by the size of the tail in the photograph, but seemed ready to go home after her morning adventures. After she left, I wrote up a few notes and then slowly headed out of the preserve when suddenly I saw movement at the location she originally reported the cat. I immediately stopped the car and pulled out my binoculars. No question, it was a bobcat - short 3" tail, stripes and spots on its underside and the inside of its long legs, fur flaring out in the cheek area, and the typical slow, saucy walk of a 'bob'.


Over the next few days, we continued to get reports of mountain lions. This is typical whenever we post signs regarding mountain lion sightings or when the local media covers a mountain lion story. Although some of the reports were reliable (large-sized cat tracks, certain descriptions), based on our previous experience, many others were probably cases of excited misidentification. Nevertheless, we listen carefully, ask clarifying questions and keep records. As long as the sighting is brief and the animal's behavior is nonaggressive towards humans, it's a fact of interest but does not require any action.

The presence of mountain lions in the proximity of humans tends to be controversial. I've waited over a week to write about this event to give me time to think. I was excited to see the lion myself. Everyone we talked to about the event was excited too. Probably because we had photos and had witnessed a mountain lion doing mountain lion things in its own habitat. A habitat we try to share respectfully with local critters. Most of the time we only hear the predator/human conflict stories, sometimes exaggerated. It's great to have examples of lions living their lives in ways that don't threaten or upset humans.

So I decided to share this simple story of a local lion lying about. So you can be hopeful. Also, so I can share these important tips:

• Do NOT run from a mountain lion. Running could trigger an attack response from a mountain lion. Stand tall, raise your hands above your head, throw rocks or sticks, and shout.

• In the very unlikely event you are attacked by a mountain lion, FIGHT BACK. People have survived by punching, scratching or kicking an attacking lion. My favorite story is a biologist who was writing in her field notebook when she was attacked. She stabbed the lion in the face with her wimpy pen and it left. Lions are stealth predators. They creep up on a deer, suddenly pounce on it and between the force of their leap and their accurately placed canines severing the spine, their prey usually collapses and quickly dies. They don't expect a fight and will often leave if there is any struggle.

• Mountain lion attacks on humans are rare. There have been no documented attacks of mountain lions on humans in the Santa Cruz Mountains since 1909. There have been 16 verified mountain lion attacks on humans in California since 1890, six of them fatal.

If Dr. Grace Augustine, the biologist in the movie Avatar, had been carrying a field notebook and writing implement, maybe her fate would have been different.

See Also:

• California Department of Fish and Game Mountain Lion Facts

• Mountain Lion Foundation - As an advocacy group, they have opinions on hunting, regulations, etc. Nevertheless, the website has good information on mountain lion biology, and how to protect your pets and livestock when you live in mountain lion territory.

• Bay Area Puma Project - researchers tracking mountain lions in the Santa Cruz Mountains. Great photos of recently collared local mountain lions.

• How to tell mountain lions and bobcats apart

Under Cover of Rain

I worked outside in a light drizzle most of the day. It's been raining every few days so I keep rotating between raincoats, and with my amazing boot dryer, I start each morning with toasty toes. Today, I even switched hats midday to keep my noggin dry and warm. If you dress right and there is no wind, it's pleasant and personal to travel among the mossy trees in the rain.

The saturated soil is slipping and clumping down in little piles at the bottom of hillsides and roadcuts. On Sunday, we heard a gurgling noise from above the barn. Fearing the start of a landslide, I walked up the hill to find water bubbling out of the slope. On further inspection, I realized the rains had activated a hidden spring and water was running down an old set of buried pipes to the orchard. It formed a musical fountain where it escaped a rusty section. Trees usually found on dry terrain, are reflected in unexpected mini-ponds at their bases. The earthworms leave their flooded holes and commute down wet trails.

While crossing a small creek, I realized the large swollen worm in a pool was actually a washed and tangled intestine. Seems that a mountain lion must have been feeding upstream. Mountain lions usually pull the guts out of their prey and set them in a neat pile alongside the carcass before they feed on the remaining flesh. In this dense forest, the carcass could be anywhere on the sodden slopes and the guts must have rolled into the stream.

During a brief break in today's rain, the robins puffed themselves up on bush tops and the raptors took short patrols. The deer and rabbits were out browsing midday on the forest edge as if it was dusk. A coyote came out to yap on the top of a hill where he could get a nice echo.

Under the cover of rain, we get the chance to move among the wildlife as if it is night and we are hidden. Maybe we are camouflaged by our muddy clothes. Maybe wildlife have no fear of humans who wander outside in the rain.

Call of the Ponds

In the frenzy of breeding, some amphibians get confused.

The frogs, toads and newts are heading to the ponds and creeks for their annual breeding. With all the rain we've been getting, these are happy herps. Now is a good time to visit ponds and creeks to witness this seasonal event.

The skewed distribution of rain in California means that some ponds and creeks are wet only in the winter and spring months. If there is rain. As a result, many California amphibians only visit the wet areas for a short period during their hectic breeding season and that is the time you are most likely to see and hear them. Not only is the water a window into their reproductive rituals, but in their frenzy to complete their duties before the rain ends, they seem less sensitive to human curiosity.

A male aquatic-phase newt shows off his black nuptial toes.

The male amphibians usually splash down first and undergo some type of physical transformation to prepare for their upcoming adventures. Male California newts develop smooth skin, swollen limbs and streamlined tails for navigating to their sweethearts in water. They get rough, black tips on their toes, called nuptial pads, to grip the female during mating.

Small in size, the male treefrog pumps a bellow below his chin so that his call can be heard from long distances by female frogs (and people too).

From every pond, creek, ditch, cattle trough and puddle at the Dipper Ranch right now, comes the chorus of male treefrogs. Their two-note (kreek-ik) call, which advertises their fitness for breeding to the female treefrogs, is mostly heard on warm nights, but also on rainy or overcast days. At the height of the breeding season, the treefrogs can't seem to resist calling even during a sunny day. The treefrog chorus will suddenly fall silent as you approach a pond's edge, but soon one frog will start trilling, and not to be outcompeted, the others will quickly join in.

Treefrogs in amplexus. As the female (bottom) releases eggs, the male releases sperm for external fertilization.

Newts in amplexus. Sometimes extra males join in.

Fertilization of eggs is facilitated by amplexus, wherein the male embraces the female from above or behind. In the newts, amplexus occurs as the pair swims slowly and gracefully together around the pond. Surely, this is one of the most peaceful rites of springs to be witnessed at the edge of a pond.

A female newt grasps pond vegetation as an egg mass emerges between her rear legs. Another newt egg mass floats in the water below her belly.

Eggs of each of the amphibian species can be distinguished by their different shapes and sizes. See links below for photos and descriptions. It's worth returning to the ponds and creeks in the next few weeks to witness the hatching of tadpoles and larvae and their transformation into tiny land-hardy frogs and newts.

So gather the family and go visit a pond or stream. Walk right up to the edge of the pond or into shallow waters and squat down to watch the aquatic play. Some activities you might try during your pond-gazing visits:

• Can you name the different types of frogs, toads and newts?
• Do you hear different frog calls?
  
• Can you see the difference between the males and the females?
• Can you see different types of eggs?
• What are the amphibians eating in the pond?

For clues, see the links below for more information and photos.

• King of the Pond
• Raining for the Homeless
• Frog Calls
• Night Life at the Ponds
  
• Big Changes in Frogtown
• 256 Newts
• Egg of Newt
  
• Tadpoles Compared
• Frog Alert
• California Herps website
  

Peering at you peering at him.

Names of amphibians mentioned in this posting:

• Sierran treefrog, Pseudacris sierra - formerly called Pacific Treefrog, Pacific chorus frog, Hyla regilla or Pseudacris regilla.
• California toad - Bufo boreas halophilus
• California red-legged frog, Rana draytonii
• Coast range newt, Taricha torosa torosa

Oddities at Año Nuevo - Part 2, The Beach

All the rocks on the beach were framed by black halos and parentheses.

Last time, I talked about the freaky poison oak shrubs at Año Nuevo State Park on the lovely San Mateo coast of central California. On the beach end of the park, there are interesting sights to catch your eye besides the monstrous elephant seals fighting, mating and raising young.

Recent storms washed fine black material out of this dark vein in the coastal bluff and dragged it out to sea. Some grains were caught in eddies around the rocks and settled onto the beach. The dark material is probably peat deposited hundreds to thousands of years ago which keeps getting resorted by coastal uplifting, wave erosion and shifted by the many faults in the area including the Frijoles Fault.

When I visited earlier this month, a freshwater reservoir near the beach end of the Año Nuevo Point Trail was full of gulls rinsing off saltwater. While lounging on the beach, we noticed some peculiar behavior of the gulls leaving the pond after their daily bath.


They would fly off the pond's surface, then bank up over the coastal bluffs and stall in the air to vigorously shake their feathers. For a split in-air second, they would shake their wing and tail feathers so hard, they were ruffled, flying balls. As they soared over the beach, their feathers would fall back into place.

Gull after ocean-going gull would momentarily spasm. Once you notice, it's quite hilarious.

While the tourists plodded up and down the beach (some wore pointed heels in the sand) to gape at the enormous elephant seal bulls, we botanists snickered at the butt-wiggling gulls.


An associate, who used to catch, measure and tag gulls for research on San Francisco Bay, told me that the gulls would do the same shake dance whenever the scientists released them. Per Año's other oddity, my co-hikers reported seeing crested poison oak bushes at various other natural spots. So why was Año Nuevo the first place I have seen these two oddities after 20 years of hiking California's wildlands?

Possibly, the unique light reflecting off the ocean surface and gleaming through the coastal fog reveals features that are otherwise not noticeable. Or, it could be that nature is so incredibly complex and detailed that at any time and any outdoor place, you are likely to make new discoveries. I think Año Nuevo is one of those magical places where the quality of the air and pleasant laughter of your companions stimulates the mind to divine the unusual in familiar surroundings.

Go outside, play, tell me a story.

See Also:
Geology of Point Año Nuevo State Park, Gerald E. Weber.

Oddities at Año Nuevo - Part 1, Strange Poison

A male elephant seal snoozing on the beach.
His chest has scratch marks from fighting with other males.

Año Nuevo State Park on the beautiful San Mateo coast of California is famous for beachside viewing of elephant seals and whale watching. Año Nuevo State Park is also the location of a former Ohlone village where archaeologists, tribal members and ecologists are researching ancient fire and land management practices of native peoples. See the California State Parks website for more info about these popular activities.

I would like to report on something else, two natural oddities that surprised me on a recent visit to Año Nuevo State Park: poison oak mutations and butt-wiggling seagulls.

256 Newts

How many newts?

Last night, a night misting in anticipation of a storm, we undertook the first-of-the-year frog surveys. We visited all four Dipper Ranch ponds from 8 pm to midnight walking about 1.5 miles downhill and then the same route back again. The fog kept all surfaces wet without totally blocking the moonless night sky and the temperatures were in the low 40's. Good conditions for amphibians.

As we walked out of the house, we could hear a treefrog chorus in the distance. I had heard occasional treefrog calls for the last month, but this was the first night of the rainy season that we could hear multiple frogs sing together. When we passed through the gate around the farmyard, we heard several treefrogs echoing off the metal sides of the cattle trough in the nearby corral.

Sneaking out of the pond on a Saturday night.

The Woods Pond had shallow water, a small amount of water draining through the outfall, and we did not see or hear any treefrogs or see any newts. That changed once we climbed the berm around the nearby Newt Pond. The Newt Pond was a few inches deep and no water was inflowing through the rusty pipe from the uphill spring. We saw 12 coast range newts wandering around the grass at the edge of the pond. Many of them were swollen with slick skin and razor edges to their tails indicating they had already spent time in the water. One of the land-based newts was eating an earthworm, while 6 newts were swimming about the cloudy pond. One treefrog was sitting quietly on the grass about 15 feet from the edge of the pond.

After they have been in the water, the skin on the back of male coast range newts changes from a bumpy, dark surface to a smooth bright orange.

As we climbed the slope above the Newt Pond, passed its feeder spring and walked out into the upper meadow, we saw 27 newts rambling about. We started to get excited. The newts were wandering in many different directions, sometimes alone and sometimes following another's tail.

Newts can travel long distances to breeding ponds and streams, often tumbling down steep slopes and creeping under and crawling over barriers like this pipe.

Between the gate separating Pasture 3 from Pasture 1 and Mustangs Rock, there were 65 newts on and alongside the road. They didn't seem to mind our close inspection via headlamps and usually continued about their business. Still 1/2 mile from the nearest pond and perhaps a quarter mile from ephemeral drainages, we continued to see the earth crawl with 54 more newts as we ventured downhill to the Monotti Pond (formerly called the Plum Pond).

We were not the only creatures wandering in the misty night, as nearly 100 yellow dots shined back at our headlamps. Although I claimed they were aliens, my ranch-raised companion was not fooled. The cattle were curious to see humans walking about at night and did not clear the ranch road until we were within a dozen feet of them. Then they followed us at a distance down to the Monotti Pond as we passed 13 newts and the treefrog chorus swelled.

How the male Sierran treefrog makes such a loud sound to call in the female frogs.

The Monotti Pond had no outflow, but treefrogs were loudly calling from the cattail stand. The treefrog chorus would stop temporarily whenever we talked or we or the cattle moved, but soon one frog would call and then, not to be left behind in courting the females, others would join in, and the din would start all over again. Within a few minutes, the frogs became accustomed to our presence so that I could walk around the pond without stilling their bellows and I counted 4 newts on land near the pond and 20 newts swimming about the shallow water. We decided not to count the frogs as they were harder to see than to hear.

We usually see newts in ponds where we witness their aquatic breeding. On rainy nights, their amphibian nature allows them to leave the pond and hunt for terrestrial invertebrates.

With our ears ringing, we headed towards the Mallard Pond. Of the 47 newts we passed on the way, many were eating earthworms and one swallowed a pill bug before our very eyes. The Mallard Pond was eerily silent with 5 newts on the land and 3 in the water. The Mallard Pond is surrounded by forest, so perhaps it takes longer for the amphibians to seek it out than the Monotti Pond which is completely surround by grassy slopes.

With feet braced, this newt tugs a resistant earthworm out of its hole.

On the return trip, we saw plenty of newts but did not count them. We realized that the newts which were still with their heads tilted or pointed, were probably hunting since many of them were peering under leaves or down holes. Once a newt got one end of the worm between its jaws, it would intermittently lunge forward and gulp down another section of the struggling worm. Newts have small teeth, thus they were not severing the earthworms, just slowly swallowing them whole. This explains why some newts were dragging big bellies as they slipped back into the pond.

Midnight greeting party - the California toad

When we finally reached the farmyard, a large California toad greeted us in front of the barn. We did not see or hear any red-legged frogs all night. We will keep surveying the ponds and hope to catch the earliest arrival of these big frogs, and record the earliest dates of frog and newt mating and egg laying. 256 newts in a night (64 newts an hour) has altered my perception of the night life around here.

As the night falls, poisonous orange predators emerge from ponds or their dens
and hunt down the slimy & wicked.

See also:
Coast range newt, Taricha torosa torosa
Sierran treefrog, Pseudacris sierra (formerly called Pacific treefrog, Pacific chorus frog, Hyla regilla or Pseudacris regilla)
California toad, Bufo boreas halophilus

Cattle Fishing - Day 2

Steer on a line

Wednesday morning started with Hawkeye Cindy washing another load of dishes. When a group of black cattle moved across my kitchen view, I knew the dogies were out for their morning perambulation. I headed outside to check if the red steer who got tangled in telephone line the day before was watering in the corral.

There were 3 red steers in the corral, but none were dragging black line. One could have been yesterday's rambunctious steer-on-a-line who had somehow gained his freedom overnight. I couldn't tell. I could hear more cattle coming down the road, so I kept rechecking the corral as the dishrack filled up.

Vince, the cattle operator, arrived with his ATV and Zip the cowdog. Off they went in search of the tangled steer while I had my hands full doing laundry and creating more laundry by digging holes for a deer fence in the backyard. Eventually, I realized Reed could do a better job lining up the post holes if I wasn't constantly changing my mind about the fence location, so I strapped on my backpack and went to see how Vince was doing at cow fishing.

In the forest above the Menotti Barn

I found Vince turning the ATV around in Pasture 1. He said the tangled red steer and a few black steers had disappeared into a forest above the Menotti barn. I like this particular forest because the Octopus Tree lives there. I headed into the forest to find the cattle. At first, I was not sure whether I was following a deer or cow trail until I found a juicy cow patty. Cattle have loose bowels when they've been running. I spotted a black tail swishing among the tree trunks. Quietly, I crept further downhill and saw 1 red and 3 black steers. I yanked my binoculars around, and sure enough, the red steer was draped in black line.

The Octopus Tree must have fallen long ago
and now has 5 large trunks emerging around central spokes

I wasn't feeling confident about how to flush the cattle out of a forest, so I snuck out to an open area where Vince could see me. I climbed a weedy island in the middle of the dried-out Donut Pond and hooted and waved my arms until Vince turned the ATV in my direction. He parked at the edge of the forest, untied his throwing rope and tried to convince me that when he chased the cattle out of the trees, I should herd them up the ranch road by running the ATV behind them. I told Vince I didn't want to drive the ATV since I didn't really know how. Vince chuckled and with trusty Zip headed into the forest to find the cattle.

I followed behind the seasoned cattle herders at a distance, but quickly lost them as I struggled up the hill. I could hear a lot of stomping and branches cracking, but through the foliage, I couldn't see what was going on. I climbed even higher to get a view from the grassy slope above the forest. Far below, I could see Vince walking past the Menotti barn, but no steers. I headed back down through the forest to rejoin Vince. Passing the Octopus Tree, I once again saw a swishing black tail and slowly shooed the steers towards the barn. As the cattle came out into the open, Vince and Zip got them trotting back up the ranch road. Vince asked me to slowly walk behind the steers on the road and he would get the ATV and pick me up.

Charging the fishers

When Vince picked me up on the ATV, he explained that the cattle were getting tired and would probably stick to the road if we followed them slowly enough. We were halfway back to the corral, when the wily steers headed into another forest - the one where the old grader is getting swallowed up by a buckeye tree. Vince jumped off the ATV to follow them and once again suggested I drive the ATV along the road. When I hesitated, he gave me a 20-second ATV refresher: "Here's the gas, here are the brakes". As he headed into the forest, he shouted, "Wish me luck" and I thought, "Wish me luck with this ATV."

First, I had to figure out how to get it out of neutral. I remembered something about kicking up the pedals and got it into first gear. I decided I would just go slow and keep the darn thing in first gear the whole time.

Vince moved the cattle out of the forest and got them started on the road again. I slowly followed behind. I lost Vince when the cattle made a dash for the Woods Pond. I parked the ATV near a road crossing to see which way the cattle would come out. I wasn't sure if I could turn the ATV back on, so I shifted it into neutral, figured out how to set the parking brake (press the button that says "p. brake"), and crawled down the slope to watch the action at the Woods Pond. Through the trees, all I could see was a confused milling of black and red legs, boots and dog tail.

I went back up to the ATV, got real brave, and figured out how to put it in reverse (push the red button marked "R" and kick the gear pedal) so that I could turn sharp enough to take the road to the Woods Pond. However, then I couldn't get the ATV out of reverse. I tried every combination of kicking pedals up and down, pressing the R button and so on. Finally, I gave up, turned the ATV off and put on the parking brake.

Corner pocket

While climbing down another slope to the Woods Pond, I suddenly noticed Vince walking on the road above me. I shouted to him but he didn't hear me. I scaled the slope and finally caught up with him just as he and Reed were moving the tired steers into the corral. We closed the corral gate and then Vince started cattle angling.

Corner standoff

Basically, Vince and Reed slowly approached the cattle which would run into a corner, the boys would approach again, and the cattle would run into another corner.

Easing up nice and slow

This went on many times, but each time, the boys got a little closer.

Fingering the line

Eventually, Vince was able to ease up close enough to pick up the line that the red steer was dragging. The first few times, he couldn't get the line tied to a solid object before the steer took off again. Finally, while the steer tiredly walked up the hill to the water trough, it left a lot of slack in the line. Vince gently picked up the end of the line, slowly lifted it and waited.

Tieing off the line

As the steer became distracted, Vince walked the line over to the side of the corral, reached through the fence and tied it to a willow tree. The steer didn't seem to notice. Vince slowly walked around and above the steer. He was getting ready to approach it, grab the line near its neck, and cut the loop with the wire cutters from his rear pocket.

Walking into position

But instead, the steer charged downhill again. I thought this was going to be like one of those cartoons when a dog runs after a cat full speed and then gets pulled short by a chain. But instead, the telephone line suddenly broke and fell off. The steer was finally free. We had a relieved laugh and Vince reeled in the loose line.

The last charge down the hill

Later, Vince went back to get the ATV. While he was loading it into the trailer, I asked him how to get it out of reverse. He showed me by pushing down the red R button and kicking up on the gear pedal. However, the ATV did not go into first gear. "Oh", Vince said, "sometimes you have to turn the wheel a little to get it to pop in." So that is how you reel in a cow and kick an ATV out of reverse - persistence and a flick of the wrist.

Back to a peaceful evening of grazing.

Christmas Bob

We went for a Christmas Day walk on the ranch. This required crawling under a few fences.

The cows followed us into a new pasture. First, they galloped through the gate and explored. Then they got down to serious grazing.

A newt smaller than my pinky tumbled down a landslide onto the old ranch road. We helicoptered him to the creek side of the road with words of encouragement.

There were 17 male mallards at the Mallard Pond.

We watched a bobcat sunning. He ignored us and hunted.

He gave us a short stare through the grasses. Then he leapt away.

It was a fine Christmas Day and a walk worth crawling under fences.