March 26, Wednesday House of Straw

One of the reasons for coming to Taos was to work on the wiring in the barn and that’s what I did today at the end of a ladder – earning my board and keep.
Many years back JC and Rebecca decided to build a house made out of straw bales. This technique goes back to the pioneer days and has been re-discovered near the end of the last century. The straw comes from a farm in Colorado that specially bales straw (extra compact) for such buildings. The 450 bales give R-44 walls and a cool house. Over the straw is stucco. (The contractor only builds straw bale houses.)(The one photo shows the "Truth Window" that reveals the straw bales.)

Like every farm there are on going pigeon problems. This afternoon JC and I spent time on ladders in the implement shed stapling up another 40 feet of chicken to go with the already 300 feet in place. All the pigeons have left weeks ago expect two so tonight I went out to see how our handy work went. Damned if two pigeons were sitting out on a crossbeam. They just sat there as I shined the powerful light in their red little eyes. After reporting back to the Big House, it was determined to take the single shot pellet rifle out there and do them in. Rebecca brought out the rifle and showed me how it worked. I would hold the light and she would do the dastardly deed of shooting them. I put the plastic bullet shaped pellet container in my pocket and out we stalked into the night. Just before we entered the shed I said that she should carry the ammo so I could concentrate on my light shining job. Stealthy we crept by the hay bailer and the flat bed trailer; I whirled and flipped on the light. There they sat up on the beam mesmerized by the light. I could hear Rebecca steady her breathing, focus, aim and fire. One pigeon spiraled down toward the ground the other flew to another beam in the wash of my light. It turned to stare down on us. I heard Rebecca fumbling next me trying to reload in the dark. It was taking way too much time. Finally she said, “You gave me your damned lip balm!!! Where’s the ammo container???” We both started laughing. The second shot failed and the pigeon flew out into the night. Life on the farm.
So now everything is back to a homey normal: Rebecca is playing15th century English Country Dance music on her 1925 concertina; JC is reading “Water for Elephants” by the glowing wood fire in the fireplace and I’m next to him at the massive old dining table writing my blog. Peace in the dwelling except for two pigeons out in the night.