Wildlife census report, June 2012

If Smooch looks a little weary, it's because she's been working overtime on ranch security. Between the snakes on the porch and the pronghorns on the perimeter, the poor dog never gets a break. It's been a very busy month for wildlife here at the 7MSN and time for an official census report.

Many of you assumed yesterday's "He's Back" post would be about the neon-orange-tailed bullsnake living under the air conditioner. I'm happy to report that he was caught last Friday, driven wayyyyy down the road, and released. Which is the only good thing about the recent onset of near-100 degree weather. I started using the air conditioner, disrupting the dirty rotten scoundrel's environment, and was able to catch him.

All was peaceful and harmonious for almost 24 hours, then Smooch alerted me to a rattlesnake in the back yard. Can we take a moment for a shout-out for Smooch? Nothing gets past this dog, and she has gotten the snake-alert thing down to a science. She does her snake bark until I come outside, I tell her what a good girl she is, then she runs in the house while I go catch the snake. What a team.

Anyway, I caught the rattlesnake, dumped him in the tupperware snake box, then put the box in the back of my truck. He would be going for a very long ride the next day...

...when I drove out to the highway to meet my visitors to lead them back in to the ranch. I thought they might want to have the the full ranch experience, so I let them have a look and listen before I released him. Hostess with the most-est, that's me.

The swallow population is eternally grateful. No more snakes crawling up the stucco walls to eat them. For now. And yes, those dark hairs you see are from Hank's tail. We're all about recycling here at the 7MSN.

As for Turtle Steve, he usually shows up for two reasons: 1) company's coming and 2) it rains. When Lucy and I spotted him a few days ago, we had gotten two-tenths of an inch of rain the night before and company was expected the next day. I can set my clock by this guy.

Unlike Mr. P, who remains elusive. I truly believe he got sick of me talking to him and asking him to pose for pictures. He wanted his privacy. Who could blame him?

I haven't seen him lately, but I know where he lives. The bottom of every cholla in the vicinity has been stripped like an ear of corn.

The pronghorns are everywhere this time of year. I love it when one poses outside the bedroom window long enough for me to find the camera and take a picture.

Then there are the ravens. As soon as it started getting really hot, this trio took up residence in the corral. They're no fools. They hang out all day drinking out of (and pooping in) the stock tank.

They're flighty devils, though. Last night I tried to sneak up on them to take pictures. Inch by inch, step by step, I walked toward them with my camera glued my face, oblivous to all else. Just as I framed the perfect close-up, a dozen big black ants started crawling up my bare legs. I was standing on an ant hill. How special. I screamed and jumped around and scared Lucy and the boys, and the ravens flew away, and I started to itch and scream some more. It wasn't pretty. I'll take a rattlesnake over black ants any day. Quoth the rancher woman, nevermore.