Judith Mountain Vineyard

give a man a fish, feed him for a day.  teach a man to fish, feed him for a lifetime.  and his family and their’s and…

do we ever learn when not to fish?  darwin professes a basic cycle, one that even single-cell bob can’t fuck up, “eat. multpily”.  when growth exceeds food, growth dies back into a web of living balance and submission?  I wonder, then, is it possible for higher-order organisms to smoothen the cycle.  to sort of tame it, or even preempt the swings by enforcing an inflection or series of correctional tangents.  that is, of course, assuming we use the other cells.

in 2004 Hogan and Zanden published research regarding catfish migration along the Mekong River, which passes through or borders Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, Laos, Myanmar, and China, in order upstream.  The article, in the American Scientist 2004 v.92 i.3 p. 228, describes studies of historic catches, strontium in otoliths [formed in the inner ears of balancing vertebrates], biotelemetry, and government-sponsored buy-back programs.

The silver-toned catfish travel an average of 5km/day for annual summers at the brackish water mouth.  They are not only becoming fewer but smaller and now only occur upstream as far as Cambodia.  Overfishing is placing a heavy hand on the wooden-handled knife into the former 300kg heavyweight catfish class, one of many fish experiencing the same on a river system that accounts for 16% of the world’s freshwater catch.  Declines in freshwater stingray stocks support the same conclusion: habit degradation, dams, industry and agriculture all share the glare.  Funny how even Animal Planet’s Jeremy Wade, on his recent video How to Catch a Giant Stingray, acknowledges the lack of stingray bounty compared to historic records and upstream reaches, as he takes all afternoon to reel in his fourth catch of the episode (itself nearly 150kg- and gives premature birth to three in the net).

these are my thoughts as a group of us floated down the Smith River at the end of this April (sunny and 70 for two weeks, a perfect window).  Our fishing was terrible- the river too high and viscous for trout amateurs.  Of course, all the old-timers who have lived or fished on the Smith back in the good ‘ol times had stories of better and browns to 2′.  Connection?

Mark Kulansky’s non-fiction Cod tells of a familiar theme.  Overfishing, under numbers, too much pressure.  Seawater catch numbers that rose worldwide on the advent of boats that could handle more remote conquests, then fell even harder afterward.  Salmon fisheries and more on the scare as copper mines and oil disasters alike flare with the pace of humanity.

I’m not writing about fish, actually, it’s more interesting to focus on good stewardship.  minding our selves in the forests (pine beetles abhor fire) and everywhere else.  we’re going to blow shit up and peel out and fire sidearms and love all of this for longer if we simply practice a little self control and accountability with our rods.

the fishing proverb isn’t actually from the Bible but rather presumed to have a Chinese origin.  Like the catfish once did.

lucky to catch this morning sunrise.  even the deer were lazy and enjoying the peace.

Last night the mercury was supposed to push 31…    but only made it down to 34.1 in the bowl that sits the vineyard.  Narrow miss.

Tonight, expected low of 30 for 4 hours starting about 3am.  I’ve got sprinklers on the ready, and hopes for an insulating blanket of snow or at least rain to keep away the reaper.  These are tough nights!  Seems like the weather is threatening many of Montana’s vineyards (re: Clark Fork).  A bit disheartening to have ~10 degrees less of a chance here though.

One of the insurance policies I took against early killing frosts was to plant each vine in a slight ‘hollow’, then lightly back fill with straw, to allow for new growth while simultaneously providing an insulating effect.  This wouldn’t work, of course, if my vines were growing properly from cordons/trunk because they hardened off correctly in the autumn- which they haven’t yet- so, coming out of their second winter, they still push new growth from their bases.  Makes it easier to foil the spring freeze (re: straw, insulating ground, etc.), but bad for the long run it’s their third growing season now and yet a single vine is trained properly on their trellis having saved the previous years’ trunks.

‘Aint easy growing vines up here.  Have been considering an acre-sized greenhouse.

In other news, travelled to wyoming this weeked to visit family and witnessed an amazing and powerful storm cell, the beautiful Bighorn Canyon, and the so-named female? bighorn sheep in full shed.

20 chicks came in the mail today.  They’re free range broilers, which means we can let them wander around and their legs won’t break even though they’re going to get really, really, really fat.  Quickly.  60 vines came in the mail, too, so today’s the day for planting with sunny and 65, a gas-powered auger, and beers all around.

are you looking at ME? Why I oughtta....

The aspens and vines’ buds started swelling within the last two days- the vines being a full two weeks earlier than last year.  Good sign!  Wild blue lupine and shooting stars recently appeared as well.  Spring has finally come and the land has that velvetine glow to it.  Just in time for summer.

I also ordered 60 vines after mapping out the vineyard status over the last two years.  They’re patiently waiting in the root cellar for planting this weekend or early next- right now we’re busy with getting the Big Spring Co-op ready for opening and, when possible, laying in the new green and giant hammock our friend Brett brought us from Mexico.

Yes, well, any of you readers (if we had any, or still have any after a 6 month hiatus on writing) can now be involved in blogging, posting, and all that kind of stuff.  Took a while to learn all of this.  Updating the vintner’s log and such around here should be a lot easier and look better, too.

Currently, after a warmish spring and nearly barren ground, a snow storm came from the east (normally they’re from the west around here) and dropped from a foot to four feet of dry powder over and against everything.  The winds were incredible- I could caffeinate Lewistown if I threw roasted beans out our front door.  After much labor, and an almost-incident with the truck and some vineyard trellis (already haven flattened the electric fence), we managed to unbury ourselves with the tractor and reach the road.  Swearing may have been involved.

Well, certainly lack of water this season. I guess this proves that we could dryland farm our vines, but I’d be afraid the stress it would cause on the vines would entail more poignant acids, so will employ a new watering trick to be installed this autumn… look for more info on that soon. Deep in the soil we go. Though we like the mint, yarrow, and lupine to grow at the surface as long as it did this year, the drip system along the ground just isn’t encouraging the roots is the right places. Our clay-rich soils, though slow to dry out, are slow to wet as well. Sets production back a year. And dripping moisture in the top ten inches (actual differs among genders) is watering other surface veg. Otherwise, the vines are healthy and are just beginning to change for the season. A good sign of hardening off, considering last year at about this time we had our first freeze. No grow tubes this year, either, so we’ll have more on that affect come next spring.

The barn is coming along well, we’re actually considering moving into it this winter so we can have a bit more space than the cabin… but living with livestock?

Deep snow, somewhere around two feet and rising but hard to measure what with the wind redistributing it so. This week has been the coldest this winter, we’re nearing -40 F with the wind chill, -30 F without. Staying inside, reading books and feeding the hungry fireplace. Keep drinking tea to help stay warm but trying to monitor how many cups consumed because of the inevitable after too many cups of tea… one must venture into the howl. Compost toilets, of course. Maybe we’ll invest in a furry seat cover.