Moving With Your Garden

Copyright 2004

Moving With Your Garden

     Moving day has arrived. You're packed and ready and excitement fills the air. But what about the garden you're leaving behind? Here's how to move a garden…

     Why leave behind all those valuable memories and labors of love? During one of our family's moves, a precious rosebush given to us by our daughters was forgotten. Thankfully, we were able to retrieve it later when I explained the situation to the new owners, but I regretted not planning ahead. I should have transplanted it into a pot before we moved.

     More and more gardeners are learning the importance of planning ahead for moving day. It's easy to gather seeds, dig bulbs and take stem cuttings that can be transferred to a new home. Take time to research the climate and soils of your future home, and determine which of the plants in your current garden are suitable for moving. Your favorite plants and garden keepsakes will impart a sense of familiarity to new surroundings, while giving you a head start on creating a new garden.

Seeds. Many gardeners perpetuate their favorite annual flowers and open-pollinated vegetables by gathering and storing their seeds. We have taken our favorite Ozark purple pole bean with us on three different moves. Saving seeds allows you to move part of your garden without having to transport much weight or bulk. Seal the dried seeds in envelopes and label them with the variety name and date collected. Seed collecting can be done a year or even longer before the move; just be sure to store the envelopes of seeds in an airtight container, such as a plastic food storage container.

Dormant Bulbs and Roots. Depending on the season, you can dig bulbs, rhizomes and tubers well in advance of your move. The timing is best, of course, if your move happens during the natural dormant season of plants. Many spring-blooming bulbs, such as crocuses and daffodils, can be dug immediately after their foliage withers naturally, dried and stored for up to six months before replanting. Tender rooted flowers like dahlias and caladiums are typically dug in fall, so are easiest to transport during their winter dormancy. A mixture of loose, dry peat moss and vermiculite provides a lightweight, yet protective transport medium.

Potted Plants. Many perennial flowers are best moved in a container of soil. Several weeks - or even months - before the move, transplant divisions or offsets of prized perennials into plastic pots, so by the time moving day arrives they will have acclimated to their containers. Moving plants in damp soil is a heavy proposition, so use a lightweight potting soil instead of garden loam, and the smallest size pot that will sustain the plant until it has reached its new home. As you pot plants to move, examine them pests and diseases; you don't want to move your problems with you. To lessen transplant shock, keep potted transplants out of direct sunlight, and check their soil moisture daily.

Garden Tools. About one month before you move, take inventory of your garden tools and accessories. Decide which are to be packed and moved and what will be discarded or left behind. While doing so, take time for some routine tool maintenance. Clean and sharpen the blades of pruning shears, clippers, lawn mowers and edgers. Apply a thin coating of household oil or motor oil to protect the paint and metal parts. A thin coat of linseed oil protects wood handles.

Clean and disinfect trowels, rakes, hoes and sprinklers before packing them. Mix one part household bleach to ten parts water, then let these tools to soak in the solution for one hour. Rinse and dry them thoroughly before packing. Even birdhouses and feeders can be cleaned in the same manner. The bleach kills most bacteria, snails, insects, their eggs, and even weed seeds.

Regulations for Moving Plants. There are many specialized rules that govern transporting plants, especially across state lines. It is important to learn the rules ahead of time for your destination state and any state you may cross en route. Some states, including Arizona, California, Florida and Texas. You may even be stopped for plant inspection. Hawaii has quarantine laws governing plant importation.

     The inspectors are looking for plants infested with insects or disease - especially troublesome pests such as gypsy moth, imported fire ant, Japanese beetle and Mediterranean fruit fly. Inspectors may refuse entry to plants that show signs of infestation. To find requirements for states where you are relocating, or your local county agricultural agent.

     Air carriers and commercial highway movers have specific guidelines for transporting plants. Check with your county agricultural agent to learn if you must have plants certified before shipping. Consider the size and weight of packages and pots before deciding to transport too many plants. Plants transported in a commercial moving van may remain unattended for several days and should be packed to withstand any temperature extremes they will face along the way.

     With all its work and aggravation, moving can also bring excitement and challenges for a new beginning. As you prepare to move, don't forget to share extra seeds, bulbs and perennial divisions with friends, family and neighbors. These garden mementos are a beautiful, long-lasting way to say good-bye, but not to your precious garden heirlooms.

Lagged Lookout Trees

Christine Haese
Copyright June 1998
High Country News

Lagged Lookout Trees

     “Climbed Delodo Tree. Had a bad feeling, so dry and hot. Storm last night brought plenty of lightning, little rain. Spotted smoke to south, blowing northeast. Wind picking up. Climbed down, took compass reading and plotted site on map. Caught hobbled mare and saddled up. Rode to Little Nelson Lake Tree, saw smoke again. Looks like a big fire. Took another compass reading, plotted on map. Will tap into phone line and signal Heber Ranger Station for help. May need extra folks on this fire.” 

- July 1935. Excerpt from firefighter logbook. Heber, AZ. 

(Firefighters recounted their daily thoughts and ordeals in journals).

  

   I first heard about lagged lookout trees from a friend told me her grandfather was a lagtree sitter. So were many other men and women. I wanted to know more.
     The first time I saw a lagged lookout tree, it wasn’t what I expected, but it was certainly a historic landmark. This one was an old, dying, Ponderosa pine, resigned from duty – and barely standing .This tree was marked on an forest map and made a nice drive and day hike. The tree was about 60' tall and lifeless, except for the carpenter ants and acorn woodpeckers scrounging in its skeleton. The heavy iron lags started four feet from the ground and continued upward, greeting the lower branches. From there, boughs beckoned the daring climber. In the 1930's the Civilian Construction Corp. replaced many of the lagged lookout trees with wooden towers. Later, these towers were updated with steel and aluminum. The Deer Springs Tower near Heber, Arizona was built in 1923 – and was the oldest in Arizona.  That was in 1998. That tree is now gone, burned to the ground during the historic Rodeo-Chedisky Fire in the White Mountains of Arizona.
     Lagged lookout trees were originally created to help firefighting efforts in the early 1920's. They were located in forests throughout the West and a few still stand today - some are even still alive and green. Strategic locations were chosen for lookout trees on mountain tops, rims and overlooks. Once selected, each was marked with a wooden or enamel sign telling loggers and firewood cutters of its significance.
     The lags were designed and handmade of tempered steel by blacksmiths. They were screwed or hammered into trees, branching 5" out on each side for easier climbing.
      Some trees with map boards and platforms can also be located. The Kaibab National Forest has such trees officially listed with the U.S. Department of the Interior, National Park Service, Register of Historic Places.
     If you wish to add a lagged lookout tree to your next forest adventure, visit with a U.S. Forest Service fire officer. These trees represent a significant link in history. Nature and humanity - creating legends of firefighting pioneers.

Los Tres Gallos

Christine Haese
August 1996

Los Tres Gallos

"That's it!"  I shrieked at the roosters, chasing them as they ran into the forest. "I hope a coyote eats you for dinner."

Even as I yelled the exasperated words I knew the brightly colored birds had won another battle. But eventually I vowed, I would win the war.

The war began when I saved their lives (the first time). I didn't own a rooster - and it should have stayed that way. I had received a dozen fertile eggs to put under an old broody hen. The buff Orpington biddy could probably incubate two dozen eggs with her massive body. She was dedicated to her job. A "tight sitter" was what old-timers called her. I candled the eggs after two weeks and saw six eggs had developed inside with jelly-like embryos, bulging eyes and pulsing blood. I discarded the infertile eggs.

This beautiful hen was good at sitting on her eggs, but unfortunately, not dedicated to hatching and brooding. In fact, Mommy Dearest (as we later named her) had to be relieved of her duties in the hen house. She had the miserable trait of being too curious and playful during hatching. As the chicks emerged, one by one, instead of tucking them under her feathers and warming their tiny bodies, she would hurl them from the nest. The newborn chicks, wet and helpless, tossed onto the chicken coop soil, soon began to die. When I observed this routine, I watched closely, hoping she was just frustrated and soon would learn to care for her babies. After a few minutes, the chicks once again began to fly prematurely through the air. At the end of the day there were three dead babies and four pipped eggs. So here it was - rescue number one. I saved the remaining hatchlings from a dysfunctional and truly fowl life.     

I took the remaining four eggs and put them under a light bulb, keeping them moist with an occasional spray of water and covering them with a warm towel. Within a few hours all four chicks were peeping puffs of down, running around the cardboard box, eating, and drinking on their own. They grew quickly and became imprinted pets that followed wherever I went.

One chick was a pullet and the other three were cockerels. The pullet began to lay pastel, blue eggs about eight months later. At the same time, the colorful cockerels, with silver-laced feathers and tall tails, began to develop their voices.  I could hardly tell them apart, it was as if they were hatched from the same egg.

The old hens in the hen house were accustomed to bossing the younger cockerels, but with puberty approaching, the boys welcomed their male roles and things changed quickly.

The three cockerels were inseparable and went everywhere together. They clucked to each other and moved throughout the yard, pointing out insects and even sleeping together on a roost in the barn.

I noticed one strange trait from the beginning. When they first started crowing, instead of the usual crackly screams and squawks, with months of practice attempting to perfect their crow, their voices were loud and melodious. In fact, they were so good at crowing, they took it on as a full time job. They crowed day and night. There was a continual crowing competition between the three, fast maturing roosters. First the loudest would start, usually about 3 a.m. The other roosters would echo, and then back and forth they went. They never shut up. My throat ached in sympathy as I listened to the three perform their reveille before the sun began to rise.

"When are we going to get rid of those roosters?"  My husband once asked. We've never had roosters crow that high, shrill or that much. And they're definitely the loudest roosters I've ever heard!  They are also bad a telling time." 

"But you've got to admit," I added, "They're good at defending their territory." 

New neighbors had recently moved from Phoenix and were anxious to begin stocking the ranch they had bought. They purchased 36 pullets and were eager to obtain a rooster. I told them that they didn't really need a rooster; they would probably get better production without one. But they were insistent and thought our three roosters were wonderful. (and yes, I was sure we could part with them.)

After some discussion and the family inspecting the three roosters carefully, they all agreed. "These are the most beautiful chickens we've ever seen."

I gave them my best word of warning... "You know these roosters crow all the time. They crow during the day and at night and they're loud."

"That's OK, that's what we want. The sounds of life in the country." 

"You're guaranteed to have that with these three guys!"

They liked the roosters so much (and I certainly would take no money for the poultry pests) that they gave me a in a couple of laying pullets to add to our flock. I felt guilty, sucking life from the new folks. The remorse quickly faded as I walked home with a beautiful white Leghorns tucked under each arm. Egg production increased steadily in our barn, and  the morning duets could l be heard in the distance.

I talked to my neighbors from time to time. Each time, they expressed a little less joy as they talked about the roosters. Within a year they had sold the ranch and were moving back into town.

"We can't take the roosters with us, would you like to take them back?"

" No." I said firmly, "You might as well just butcher them and put them in your freezer. They would be good eating." Looking down I saw two little girls crying as they thought of eating their pets. Their father assured me quietly, "Yes, he would do just that. Early in the morning, sometime before they moved."

I watched down the road as the moving van swelled with furniture and waved as our neighbors drove away. The next morning about 3 am I heard the familiar sound across the fields. It was shrill, high-pitched, and very, very loud. The girl's tears had won. Now what?

Driving to work that morning I noticed the roosters drinking from a cattle tank about 1/2 mile from their isolated ranch. It was early summer and the monsoon rains had not yet begun. I worried, but after two weeks the roosters had survived. Mr. Coyote had tried several times to catch them, but they had increased their speed and flight. Whenever predators came nearby, they flew into a nearby juniper tree, hopping higher and higher. I marveled at their speed and survival skills. They probably could have taken care of themselves forever. Except for one thing - water. The tank was drying up fast in the heat, and the birds were requiring more water. Traveling to the tank in the heat was the beginning of a desperate situation. I knew they wouldn't last long. Taking a coffee can filled with chicken feed, I went over to the abandoned ranch house. The birds quickly ran away as I sprinkled the pellets in the yard. I waited and watched. They squawked and hollered at the top of their lungs. Finally when I considered them totally ungrateful and walked away, I noticed them cautiously approaching the feed. Soon they began to eat passionately. Seeing their hunger and against my good sense, I decided to save their lives... again.

In the dark of night with my husband trailing along we grabbed the birds from their roost in the tree. They protested loudly, squawking and screaming in the silent darkness.

"Common chicken thieves!  That's what we are. In another time we would be hung!"

"Now what will we do with these three?

I don't know, find a home for them, I guess. Somebody has to need some nice barnyard roosters. We placed them on their favorite roosting fence and left.

The ad ran for three weeks. It read:  FREE: Organic, self-composting, beautifully feathered alarm clocks. You'll never be late for work again!  Guaranteed.  

We didn’t receive a single call.

Getting up at 5 am isn't a problem for our family. But waking at 3 am. listening to those roosters in their crowing competition was more than we could adjust to.

"When are we going to get rid of those three roosters?" I was asked again.

A friend of mine has a large ranch near Holbrook, Arizona. Her barn is about a mile from the house. I warned her. "These roosters are from a dysfunctional brood and their mother abused them. They're hard on hens and even harder on your ears."

"It's OK. We won't even know they're here. They'll have food and water and by the way, we have another big rooster. He's ruled the roost for many years and he'll keep them in line."

It sounded ideal to me, so before sunlight, I got up, captured the trio and boxed them for the sixty-mile ride. As I was loading them into the back of my SUV, the lid suddenly jolted open and a feral rooster ran long-stridden into the forest. Now what?

Should I open the lid and let the others go free? They've always lived together. They’re brothers. Prying open the lid I watched as the two roosters went squawking after their sibling. They called back and forth until they found each other in the twilight. We did not see them the entire day.

That evening we listened as the trio started their familiar refrain. They had found their way back to their roosting spot and our ears were tormented once again.

I felt my husband's hand on my shoulder as he softly murmured, "When are we going to get rid of those roosters?"