Left Coast Cowboys

Like every sitcom, Left Coast Cowboys has its cast of zany characters. This page only introduces a few of them, since some of the living and able to sue are not yet giving me permission to be profiled. But here are the headliners

Portrait of the Artist as a Young Photo Geek.

After a childhood spent moving every year, I woke up one morning to find I’d lived the last 20 years in San Francisco. I guess that makes me a native. My varied and schizophrenic career has mostly been centered on writing, especially as a corporate shill and advertising copywriter/creative director (with a brief stint as a television anchorwoman and news director for a country music station.) Recently, I gave up gainful employment to orchestrate our move back to the land. But I can’t keep my fingers off the keyboard, so I took up blogging. You may ask if my account of our great farming adventure will follow journalistic truthfulness or the more, shall we say, fancifulness of advertising. You may ask. I will quote the words Mark Twain put in Huck Finn’s mouth when he had his own character review The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. “Most of it were true, but some of it were stretched.”

Andy the Eccentric Englishman

Andy is an Englishman who likewise grew up in mostly urban settings. Having never owned a lawnmower in his life, he’s taken to country life as an opportunity to purchase as many vehicles and pieces of farm machinery as possible. This is Andy posing in front of a hay barn that he specified be built with no nails, just pegs and tenons. Why? Because Wyatt Earp would have done it that way. Andy’s role in this enterprise is still evolving. We’re not sure how he’ll relate to the orchard and the organic garden — hating fruit and vegetables as a good Englishman would. He’s not quite acclimated to Western wildlife. His first reaction to a rattlesnake was to poke it and see what would happen. Typical of someone who grew up on an island that is almost devoid of wildlife. Unless you count Young Royals.

Lady Lucy Davinia Doglington-Smyth

One of the original terriers for whom Two Terrier Vineyards was named, Lucy is the Anna Nicole Smith of Smooth Fox Terriers. She’s all ticks and neuroses and badly in need of pharmaceuticals. After a brief stint on Prozac, she’s now learning to cope and embracing her unique beauty as a rather full-figured gal. She is currently concentrating on defying hundreds of years of terrier breeding which are supposed to make her a superb dispatcher of varmints. To date, she has yet to kill anything but a squeeky toy.

Sir Oscar Doglington-Smyth, Baronet

Not one of the original Two Terriers, but now a very vital force on the ranch, Oscar’s main duty is to bark very loudly at the pond water in a high-pitched yap that will make your ears bleed. He takes these duties very seriously. He too is bucking hundreds of years of terrier breeding by refusing to go after any small rodent that we might like eradicated. Consequently, the population of moles and gophers at Two Terrier Vineyards has exploded under his watchful eye. Oscar proudly exhibits all the conformation flaws that would get him kicked out of the show ring at Crufts. We think he’s cute anyway.

Joaquin, Our Mountain Lion

Shortly after buying what would become Two Terrier Vineyards, we discovered we were already sharing it with a mountain lion. One, judging from the frequency of the deer carcasses we find, who has a healthy appetite for venison. So far we are living in, what the Soviets used to call, “peaceful coexistance”. And hoping the old folk wisdom that humans smell really, really bad to predatory cats is actually true.

Bob, the Bob Cat

Bob seems to be doing the work that our terriers disdain, eating large quantities of pesky rodents. In fact, he’s sort of the feline equivalent of a terrier, lots of animal in a small body. We see him bounding around from time to time. Oscar is quite fond of the poo Bob leaves behind and is busily “double composting” it.

Wilma, Wiley and the Kids are our coyote family.

When we first bought the land, we heard coyote howls every night. Or maybe that was just because we slept in a tent cabin and it was more noticeable. Now, when grape harvesting and processing are in full swing, we seldom hear them. But they are around: a Dad, a Mom and two or three little cubs (it’s hard to count cubs when they are popping up and down in the tall grass.) We’ve named them Wilma, Wiley and the Kids. They stroll with great unconcern up the vineyard road and slip in under the deer-proof gate. Which they are welcome to do as they eat those destructive moles and gophers who seem to have taken over since the rattlesnakes moved out. In fact, I’m thinking of putting up a sign: Mole Buffet. All You Can Eat. Coyotes Eat Free.

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