Country Lifestyle
Sleepless in the Country – Part 1
Because we live at the end of a dirt road, we are forced to adopt people’s unwanted pets. Currently we have a medium sized black and white dog called Blue. I gave her that name because when she first came around she seemed very blue. She kept her tail between her legs and her head down. She most generally stayed curled up in the front yard. I had seen her walking down the road toward a neighbor’s house a few times, so I begged Gdubb not to feed her, let someone else claim her.
One day I came home and she was sleeping next to the garage, and for a week it seemed, she stayed right there. Well, of course she stayed right there, because that’s where my soft-hearted husband had placed her new food bowl. It wasn’t long until our old lab, Tootsie, had invited her to the back porch, which was about the same time Biscuit, our barn kitty, felt comfortable enough to bring up her newest two kittens to the back porch.
Blue is a real sweetheart, I can’t imagine why anyone would want to separate themselves from this little lady, she doesn’t dig, and she doesn’t chase cows, were my first impressions. Since Blue has fallen in love with the other occupants in her life, she has switched gears from sweet mild-mannered lady to aggressive protector, either that or she is afraid of the dark. At night, she barks at any little sound, and that is possibly the reason someone kicked her out of their life.
I’m trying very hard to appreciate her tenacity, because I actually caught Blue protecting the kittens. The coyote came up on the back porch trying to get the kittens and Blue came to the rescue and attacked. She then chased the coyote through our yard. The coyote saved itself by jumping on top of a round hay bale. It seemed Blue was going to hold that coyote there, so I ran to get a gun, while calling Gdubb on the phone to tell him what just happened and that I was about to shoot a coyote from our bathroom window. He laughed and then got real serious in his instructions, “Do not shoot out of the bathroom window. I can’t picture you having a clean shot with my tractors and feed truck between the house and the hay.” I assured him I had a straight shot, but I could tell he meant business when he told me to shut the blinds and step away from the window. I think he has silently regretted not letting me take the shot because night after night our sleep is interrupted with Blue’s barking. She must smell a coyote nearby.
One night I heard Blue relentlessly barking outside our bathroom window, while my Romeo appeared to be resting comfortably in a blissful sleep so I got up to check on the situation. It was not a coyote that was causing the disturbance. Blue was standing there barking and wagging her tail: she was talking to another dog a half mile down the road. I remember grumbling on my way back to bed, I have a straight shot now….
In the midst of our coyote nightmare, some friends of ours came for a weekend visit. As we were all getting ready to call it an evening and head to bed, I felt I should apologize ahead of time in case Blue disrupted their sleep. With the morning sun, I was relieved to find that Blue had a quiet night and our guests slept well. We were not so lucky the next night.
Blue began her call of duty around 2 a.m. Gdubb grabbed his spot light and disappeared out the door to check cows. The rest of the evening was fairly quiet until about 4:00 a.m. That’s when the barking began, and it seemed like Blue was chasing something around the yard. Gdubb jumped up. I listened to his footsteps and could tell he went straight to the bathroom window. He must have spotted the coyote because I could tell his hurried footsteps took him straight to the gun cabinet. The next sound was a bolt engaging. Then sure footsteps headed back to the bathroom and the window blinds made a zipping sound as they flew up the cord. The opening of the window followed. I stuck my fingers in my ears and hoped that our guests were heavy sleepers. Thankfully we didn’t have to find out, because as quick as the barking started, it stopped and Blue was spotted, tail wagging coming back to the house.
My momma called and asked me what we were doing this weekend, I told her Gdubb had just left to try to call up a coyote and I was doing laundry and had just found a new recipe for chicken and dumplings made in the crockpot. A friend of mine makes hers that way with canned biscuits. (Silence on the other end of the phone) “Have you ever made chicken and dumplings like that?” (Still silence, making me nervous, so I began to ramble) Of course I feel lazy using canned biscuits; Granny would roll over in her grave if she knew I was using canned biscuits, but it’s worth a shot, right? Mom! Are you still there?” Momma then answered, “I’m sorry hon, I’m just trying to figure out how and why George is calling a coyote!”
I went on to explain to momma that we have a coyote problem. We lost a calf to a coyote, and it is probably sniffing around for more. Gdubb has borrowed a coyote call: it’s a small megaphone looking gadget that makes sounds like mice. He strategically hides the call then sits and waits, armed and ready.
As I hung up the phone, I realized, the phrase “calling up a coyote” just flowed out of my mouth in casual conversation. I think the process of transformation from city girl to country girl has completed its cycle.
Read more in the March issue of Oklahoma Farm & Ranch.
Country Lifestyle
Apple Fritter Quick Bread
Total Time: 1 hour and 40 minutes
Servings: 10
2 medium apples (any type), peeled, cored & diced
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 3/4 tsp baking powder
1/2 cup milk
For the Glaze:
- 1/2 cup (60g) powdered sugar
1–2 tbsp milk
1/4 tsp vanilla extract
Instructions:
Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease and line a 9×5-inch loaf pan with parchment paper.
Peel and chop apples and place in a bowl with brown sugar and cinnamon. Toss and set aside.
In a large mixing bowl, cream together butter and granulated sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in eggs one at a time, then add vanilla. In a separate bowl, whisk together flour and baking powder. Gradually add dry ingredients to the butter mixture, alternating with milk, mixing until just combined.
Next, pour half of the batter into the loaf pan, top with half of the apple mixture, then repeat with remaining batter and apples. Lightly swirl with a knife for a marbled effect.
Bake for 50–55 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
Cool in pan for 10 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.
In a small bowl, whisk together powdered sugar, milk, and vanilla until smooth. Drizzle over cooled bread.
Slice and enjoy warm or at room temperature.
Country Lifestyle
The Almanac: Old Wisdom, New Uses
By Savannah Magoteaux
It may seem old-fashioned in today’s world of instant weather apps and precision farming tools, but for generations, farmers and ranchers have kept something tucked alongside their feed store receipts and fencing pliers: the almanac.
If you’ve ever wondered what makes an almanac different from a regular calendar—or how you can actually use one on the farm today—you’re not alone. The truth is, there’s a reason the almanac has stuck around for more than two centuries. It’s part tradition, part practical guide, and part good old country common sense.
What Exactly Is an Almanac?
At its simplest, an almanac is an annual publication that contains a wide variety of information:
- Weather forecasts (both short-term and long-range)
- Moon phases and sunrise/sunset times
- Best days for planting, harvesting, and other chores
- Tide tables
- Astronomical data (eclipses, meteor showers)
- Farming advice
- Home and garden tips
- Folk wisdom and humor
The Old Farmer’s Almanac, founded in 1792, is probably the most famous, but there are many versions today—including regional editions designed for specific areas of the country.
What sets an almanac apart is that it doesn’t just tell you what is happening; it often tells you when and how to do things based on seasonal rhythms, tradition, and long-standing patterns of nature.
How Are Almanac Predictions Made?
One of the most famous parts of the almanac is its weather forecast section.
While the exact methods are often kept secret, most almanacs combine:
- Historical weather patterns
- Solar cycles (like sunspots)
- Lunar phases
- Meteorological data
They aren’t as precise as modern radar forecasts, but they’re designed to give a general idea of what to expect for an upcoming season. Many readers use them more for planning and tradition than strict prediction.
Interestingly, some almanacs claim accuracy rates of around 80%, though independent studies suggest they’re closer to 50–60%. Still, for long-range planning—like when to schedule planting, hay cutting, or even branding days—many farmers find them helpful.
How to Use an Almanac Today
If you flip open an almanac today, you’ll find it offers much more than weather. Here are a few practical ways to use one on your farm or ranch:
- Planting by the Moon: Many people still plant certain crops according to the waxing and waning of the moon, believing that different phases influence root growth, fruit production, or hardiness.
- Scheduling Hay or Harvest: Long-range dry or wet forecasts can help you pick safer windows for cutting and baling hay.
- Livestock Planning: Some ranchers time breeding, calving, or vaccinations according to signs in the almanac (or at least avoid unlucky dates!).
- Gardening Tips: Almanacs are packed with advice on companion planting, pest control, and organic practices.
- Household Projects: Need to set fence posts or pour concrete? Some almanacs recommend the best days for setting things in the ground to “set stronger.”
Even if you don’t follow it to the letter, it can still offer a broader way of thinking seasonally—something that technology sometimes encourages us to forget.
Tradition Meets Technology
Many almanacs now have companion websites and apps, offering digital versions of their classic wisdom.
Still, there’s something satisfying about flipping through a paperback almanac, circling dates, and marking notes in the margins just like the generations before us.
It’s a reminder that even in a high-tech world, farming and ranching are still closely tied to the rhythms of nature—and a little old-school wisdom never hurts.
References:
- The Old Farmer’s Almanac – https://www.almanac.com
- Farmers’ Almanac – https://www.farmersalmanac.com
- University of Illinois Extension – Understanding the Farmer’s Almanac Weather Predictions
- National Weather Service – Historical Weather Patterns
SIDEBAR_
5 Fun Facts About the Almanac
1. It’s Older Than the U.S. Constitution.
The Old Farmer’s Almanac was first published in 1792—one year after George Washington was elected President.
2. There’s a “Secret Formula” for Weather Predictions.
The Old Farmer’s Almanac claims it uses a top-secret mathematical formula, created by its founder Robert B. Thomas, that factors in sunspots, tidal action, and planetary positions.
3. It’s Not Just One Almanac.
There are actually several famous almanacs, including the Old Farmer’s Almanac and the Farmers’ Almanac, and they’re produced by different companies with slightly different forecasting methods.
4. Moon Phases Matter.
Many planting and farming guides in the almanac are based on the waxing and waning of the moon. According to tradition, above-ground crops do better when planted during a waxing moon, and root crops thrive during a waning moon.
5. It Once Had a Hole in the Corner.
Early editions of the almanac were printed with a hole punched through the corner. Why? So farmers could hang them on a nail in the barn or outhouse for easy reading (and sometimes, as a backup to toilet paper)!
Country Lifestyle
The Sounds of the Country
Daylight in the country is busy. There are engines, gates, dogs, birds, wind, and people moving with purpose. Even when it feels quiet, there is usually something making noise. It is familiar noise, the kind you stop noticing because it belongs there.
Night is different.
When the sun drops and the work winds down, the sounds change. Some disappear entirely. Others step forward like they were waiting their turn. It is only then that you realize how much the land talks after dark.
The first thing most people notice is how far sound carries at night. Voices travel farther. A truck door slams a half mile away and still feels close. Coyotes sound like they are just beyond the fence, even when they are scattered across an entire section.
There are reasons for that. Cooler nighttime air is denser, allowing sound waves to move more efficiently. During the day, sunlight heats the ground unevenly, creating air layers that bend and scatter sound. At night, temperatures even out, and sound travels straighter and farther. The land does not get louder. You just hear more of it.
Coyotes are often the headliners. Their howls, yips, and barks are not random noise. They are communication. A single howl can be a location check. Group yipping can signal territory or reunite scattered pack members. What sounds like chaos is often a coordinated conversation that carries for miles.
Owls tend to follow. Great horned owls announce themselves with deep, rhythmic calls that sound older than fences and roads. Barred owls ask their unmistakable questions from creek bottoms and timber. These calls serve the same basic purpose as the coyotes’. Territory, presence, and pair bonding, all broadcast into the dark.
Insects fill the gaps. Crickets and katydids create a steady background hum that changes with temperature and season. In late summer, their calls are loud enough to drown out distant traffic. In early fall, the rhythm slows. By winter, silence settles in where that sound once lived.
Frogs take over after rain. Stock tanks, ditches, and low spots become stages. Each species has its own call, its own timing, its own volume. To someone unfamiliar with rural nights, it can sound overwhelming. To those who live with it, it becomes reassurance that water is present and life is moving.
Livestock contribute their own nighttime sounds. A cow bawling for a calf. Horses shifting and blowing softly in the dark. The occasional thump of hooves when something unseen moves through the pasture. These noises are usually brief, but they catch your attention because they break the expected rhythm.
Some sounds are seasonal. In the fall, migrating birds pass overhead, calling to one another in the dark as they navigate by stars and landmarks. In spring, night birds return, filling the air with calls that have been absent for months. The land sounds different when life is arriving versus when it is leaving.
What surprises many people is how much quieter the country can be without human interference. With fewer buildings, less traffic, and minimal artificial lighting, natural sounds are not masked the way they are in towns and cities. Even distant highways fade into the background, leaving space for subtler noises to emerge.
That quiet can feel uncomfortable at first. Silence magnifies small sounds. A branch snapping or leaves shifting can sound larger than it is. Over time, you learn what belongs and what does not. The land teaches you what is normal.
Nighttime sounds also slow you down. There is less pressure to move, to fix, to finish. Sitting on a porch or leaning against a fence, you start to listen instead of scanning. The dark removes visual distractions, leaving only sound to tell the story.
Those sounds carry information. Weather is changing. Animals are moving. Seasons are turning. Without realizing it, you begin to recognize patterns. You notice when the coyotes are quieter than usual, or when frogs call earlier than expected. The land speaks in small signals long before anything obvious happens.
Most of these sounds go unnoticed unless you stop and listen. They are not dramatic on their own. They do not demand attention. But together, they form the soundtrack of rural life after dark.
In a world that rarely slows down, nighttime in the country offers something increasingly rare. A chance to listen without interruption. To notice what has always been there. To understand that even when the lights are off and the work is done, the land never really rests.
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