For some time, I’ve thought a great deal about how long someone needs to really know a place. To know its geography, for sure, but also to know its moods. Its seasons. Its variety. To know how to get from Point A to Point B - and to know what I’m likely to see along the way, according to the time of year. And the type of year.
This thought first came to me as I was studying livestock guardian dog behavior on Forest Service sheep range north of Truckee, CA. My project involved placing trail cameras in a systematic grid over the thousands of acres of the Kyburz and Boca Allotments, and then checking them regularly. As part of the project, I also needed to find where the herder was camped, and where the sheep were grazing. The herder always knew where he was and where he would be next; I needed about three years to learn the country.
But that’s not to say I actually knew the place. Part of being curious, at least for me, is being open to new observations. Being open to the delight of seeing a new plant or animal, or a familiar plant or animal in a new place or new season. My innate curiosity is part of why I love what I do!
One morning this week, I realized that I’ve been in my new place in Mountain Ranch for a year. I’ve experienced all four seasons now. This realization came when I entered this October’s weather observations in my weather journal (a habit I brought with me from Auburn). Last October, at least during the first week, it was hotter than hell here - in the mid 90s. This year, the first two weeks of October have truly felt like fall - on Sunday, it froze hard enough to kill my summer garden. Last year, we didn’t get a germinating rain (a big deal, even to a recovering sheep rancher like me) until mid-November. This year, we’ve had enough rain to start the grass as of this week.
Looking at my weather journal, I realized that I’ve also tried to pay attention to the climate, the flora and fauna, the “mood” of my new place. I remember noticing that all of the ponderosa pines on my new place dropped lots of needles last fall and early winter. I see their needles turning brown now and know what to expect. Last fall, the deer that frequented my property disappeared as hunting season started (including some of the biggest foothill bucks I’ve ever seen). This year, the deer are equally attuned to the calendar. I haven’t seen any on my place for at least 10 days.
Living just upslope from Jesus Maria Creek, I’ve enjoyed the diurnal winds that come with living in the higher foothills - and I’ve been nervous when these winds coincide with low humidity in the summer months. As a lifelong Sierra foothills resident, I’ve always paid attention to sirens and fire planes during fire season; seeing smoke or low-flying planes has taken on new significance now that I’m not surrounded by green lawns and irrigated pastures. My community observed the 10th anniversary of the Butte Fire last month. Many of the residential lots on the other side of the county road from my place remain empty.
My new place is about 1200 feet higher in elevation than our home in Auburn, and about 60 miles south - which means I’m in an entirely different plant community. I recognize most of the grasses, but I’ve enjoyed seeing new wildflowers - lupine and mule’s ears. Coyote mint and naked buckwheat. I miss seeing the brodea and blue dicks that graced our lambing pastures in Placer County, but I enjoy the black oaks, ponderosa pines and incense cedars at my new place. I also think naked buckwheat and blue dicks are among the funniest plant names I know!
This year, I bought feeder lambs to help reduce the fuel load on my six acres. I tried to wait until I thought the grass was ready, and I tried to buy enough lambs to feed off the grass by mid-June. I discovered that I bought them too late (mid April) and I bought too few (I purchased 12 - I should have had twice that many). Next year, I plan to have 25 sheep on the place by late March. If I ever get back into the breeding sheep business here, I think I’ll try to lamb a little later than we lambed in Auburn, simply because the cold weather hangs on slightly longer here - and the spring flush of grass growth is several weeks later.
But even though I’ve learned a great deal about my new little place on the planet, I know that I don’t know everything. I’ve not experienced drought here yet. I’ve not experienced an extremely wet or cold winter, or an extremely hot summer. I’ve had some fire scares, but I’ve not had to worry about evacuating. I’ve grown one garden, and learned a bit about what grows well - for me - here. More experimentation will be needed!
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t know how long it takes to know a place. Probably a lifetime. Maybe longer.
Here are some photos from my first year in Mountain Ranch! Not in any particular order, but through the entire last 12 months plus!
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