The Tale of Two Squirrels

When it comes to weather, I'm a junkie. Even the music on the weather channel is appealing. It's very soothing in between the segments on tornados and severe thunderstorms. Weather is a common topic of discussion down at the Diner, especially this time of year. People are edgy. It's hot and dry. The afternoon winds blow strongly as the seasons change from Summer to Fall. Our worst wildfires take place in August and September. We all hope to just make safely through these days until the first rains arrive, usually around Halloween. Winter sounds attractive, and discussions sometimes focus on the Farmer's Almanac and what we can expect.

The squirrels know something about the weather. I learned that last year. They had the uncanny ability to foretell a huge winter. Something unusual happened which I did not understand at the time. The gray tree squirrels absolutely shredded the pine cones on the large Ponderosa which borders our patio. Never happened before. The debris littered the ground and was so deep I had to use a snow shovel and my largest wheelbarrow to remove it. Then it came... the biggest snowfall in years. One measure of winter's fury is how long it takes for the park service to open the loop road through Lassen Park. Quite often it is open by Memorial Day. This year: not until after the 4th of July! Was it just coincidence, or do the squirrels somehow know what's coming in the weather department? I'll take the squirrels over the Farmer's Almanac. Not just any squirrels, mind you, just the gray ones with white bellies that fly through the trees with the greatest of ease.

Then there are the other squirrels in Manton, the dumb ones, called ground squirrels. Their highest perch is a rock. These daredevil fools invariably wait along the side of the road until the very last minute as you approach, then dart in front of your car at the last second when there isn't a chance in hell you can avoid hitting them. Squirrel carcasses litter the road from Dale's Corner to the Manton Post Office. What are they thinking? Maybe it's a sport. If so, it's CARS: 1,756, SQUIRRELS: 3. One thing you can be sure of when you see all those ground squirrels: there are rattlesnakes nearby. Nests of baby ground squirrels are the gourmet ghetto for rattlers. I'll pontificate on that topic in another blog. Suffice it to say, lightning's much more likely to get you.

It seems to me, judging by the pinecone shredding operation now underway, we are in for another big winter. But before it arrives, there is one big party in town about to take place. It's by far the biggest event of the year in our small community, the annual MANTON APPLE FESTIVAL. Always the first Saturday in October, this year it is October 1st. If you like homemade apple pie a la mode as much as I do, perhaps I'll see you there. Wonderful local crafts will be available for purchase and live music to entertain you. It's free admission and revenue generated from the event goes to pay for scholarships at the Manton School. Come join in the fun.

Tom Knight, Broker

MANTON REALTY

www.mantonproperty.com

Grass or Squaw Carpet?

I was chopping some humongous poison oak the other day. You know what I'm talking about: an inch in diameter with twenty foot long runners intertwined through a trellis of dead manzanita. Industrial strength poison oak! My wife says "Buy the poison spray and don't come in the house... ever!" Fortunately we have a secluded residence, so I can disrobe outside and drop every stitch of clothing in the washing machine on the way to the shower. So far, that routine has worked out pretty well. Just a tip: it's a good idea to leave the boots and gloves outside.

When engaged in such enjoyment of our property I think about the land we own, all fifteen acres of it, a veritable lifetime of potential cost-free aerobic exercise, and I ponder larger questions. Why join a gym when I have yards of poison oak, or possibly even miles of it? I am amazed by some of my neighbors and dearest friends, no names mentioned here, who have expansive tracts of beautifully watered, mowed and manicured green grass lawns. Boy, that sure looks terrific. But wait... we're not in the city any more, we're many miles out in the country. Isn't a lawn a city thing?

I've had my fill of mowing and have the scars to prove it, ten stitches at a time to remove basal cell carcinomas my dermatolgist says are from years of mowing grass with my shirt off. Hey, I was once young, strong and stupid... why not mow without a shirt? Now I know why. I'm older now, less strong, and hopefully a little less dumb, so I'll take the poison oak and wear a shirt rather than the grass with no shirt.

My thoughts wander thus as I do mindless physical labor. It's such a luxury to just let them go that way, unchanneled, unobstructed, unfenced, undisciplined... free to roam. I thought of my art school days, a beginning sculpture class where we learned the two basic approaches to creating sculpture: additive or subtractive. Never good at math, I still was able to grasp it. Additive is when you get a lump of clay and keep adding more lumps until you arrive at an object of recognizable beauty. Subtractive is like Michelangelo taking a cube of Carrara marble and chiseling away until a David emerges.

I realized that my approach to land management falls into that latter category: subtractive. I tried the additive method once... planted 2,500 pine seedlings. All but 50 died in the first dry winter. Subtractive methodology is a lot more fun. You just look at what you've already got and remove what you don't like. However, I am finding that's more easily said than done.

In my case, I have discovered amidst the tangled jungle of poison oak and manzanita some interesting and, to my mind, more desirable plants such as redbud and lilac. Western redbud is indigenous to our California foothills and a tough survivor. It has heart-shaped leaves with a pleasant blue-green color in the summer. In the fall the leaves present a panoply of autumn color, from copper hues to crimson. I always relish the drive on Wildcat Road just along the western edge of Black Butte Cinder Cone... such a spectacle of nature's palette where the redbud abounds. It is equally showy in the spring, before the leaves appear, when redbud becomes a fountain of pink to violet blossums, usually around Easter time. So I set out to liberate my redbud... performing subtractive sculpture.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to eliminate all the poison oak and manzanita from fifteen acres of land. I like a little exercise. I'm not a gluton for punishment. Besides, I've come to realize by observation that some critters in the forest actually eat manzanita berries. Not sure if anyone eats poison oak. But I like the foxes, coyotes and other creatures who call our place home. And I have to admit, poison oak in the fall can also put on a spectacular color show. Older manzanita often is spectacular as well, the shiny twisted trunks resemble red ebony free form sculpture. I just want to have some redbud and lilac along my driveway. It's already there, so I'm just encouraging it by removing the competition.

As for squaw carpet... probably never heard of it, right? It's a low-growing evergreen ground cover prevalent at our foothill elevation, between 2,500 and 3,000 feet. In the spring it erupts in a carpet of lavender blossums which transform the forest floor for a few weeks. My wife's step-dad says the Native Americans who lived here for thousands of years used this ground cover as a portable playpen. A blanket or animal skin was placed down on the squaw carpet, the baby set on top of that, while the mother went off to gather berries. Squaw carpet has very prickly leaves, so when the infant crawler approached the edge of the blanket, it would venture no further. A perfect mobile playpen. Clever.

Perhaps this was a case of something subtractive having an additive value!

Tom Knight, Broker
MANTON REALTY