As January came to an end, we were blessed with just less than 1.5 inches of rainfall. Our pruning crews in the vineyards started in mid-December and, to date, have only taken one day off due to rain.

The oak-studded rolling hills of northern Santa Barbara County contain just a hint of green grass trying to survive from little moisture and cold temperatures.

Some grape growers have turned on their sprinklers to replenish the soil moisture that our usual rainfall provides.

As I write this column, our extended forecast calls for showers, turning to a good chance of rain through this weekend. Let's hope they're right.

I know the cattlemen are optimistically looking toward a wet week to help that green grass begin to grow.

We have been having warmer days, which will help the grass, and we hope the continued cold evenings and frosty mornings will keep our vines from budding out too early.

I have a feeling this could be a long frost-control season for grape growers along the Central Coast.

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Just last week I went outside around 8:30 in the evening to get some wood for the fire and was greeted by a full moon just rising. As I looked out on a clear, star-studded sky, I felt the chill of the evening air and knew that Jack Frost would make his appearance in just a few hours.

Our dogs began barking, and off in the distance I could hear the howling and yelping of several packs of coyotes.

There are many coyotes living in the hills surrounding our home on Premiere Coastal Vineyard, just north of Los Alamos. Sometimes there can be as many as four or five different packs howling at the same time.

If you stand on our lawn, it is like you are in a surround-sound theater. Usually the show lasts three or four minutes, and then, as quickly as they started, they disappear.

Only once did a coyote get close enough to our house for me to scare away, and he was only taunting our Queensland heeler, who is penned up a little way from our house.

Hearing the coyotes reminded me of when I was a small boy growing up on the ranch along Alamo Pintado Road. I was about the same age as my little boy Clayton, who will be 5 in March.

My grandfather Sam used to have a tough time with coyotes getting after the sheep.

There were a lot fewer people and homes then along Alamo Pintado and behind us, where the end of Santa Ynez Oaks is today. In fact, there were no houses behind us until you got closer to Refugio Road to the east.

The coyotes would come onto our ranch at night from two directions. Some came through a little canyon just northeast of our barn that led to the open spaces near the cemetery and property owned by Kent Moore.

The others came from the west, as they used Alamo Pintado Creek to come out of the hills of Rancho Santa Ynez.

There were a couple of years the coyotes were particularly bad, and my grandfather called the state trapper to help him get rid of them.

I remember the trapper telling him we had to find out where the coyotes lived and trap them there; otherwise, it would just be luck if we caught one going back and forth.

He needed to get permission from owners of Rancho Santa Ynez and the property behind us so the trapper could set traps near the coyote dens.

I remember riding with my grandfather to see Kent Moore and ask permission to set traps on the property behind us. Mr. Moore was sympathetic to our problem but declined to allow traps on his property.

Our next stop was Sam's friend Dewey Wells. Dewey was the ranch foreman for Mrs. Dumont, who owned Rancho Santa Ynez for many years.

Rancho Santa Ynez's eastern boundary, I believe, at that time was Alamo Pintado Road directly across from us; its western border was Ballard Canyon Road. There were no houses on the hills in those days, just cattle.

When Sam and I drove back to see Dewey, it was like driving back into the Old West. We made our way along the dirt driveway to Dewey's house, which was just north of Mrs. Dumont's large home and gardens.

We stopped at the back door and knocked. Dewey came to the door and welcomed us in. I will never forget seeing a six-shooter hanging in a gun belt from the hat rack as we entered the house. To a small boy, it was a sure sign that we were with a real cowboy in the real West.

Dewey allowed the state trapper to place traps down by the creek and other areas of Rancho Santa Ynez. I'm not sure he ever caught anything, but Dewey was always a good neighbor and helped my grandfather when he needed it.

Rancho Santa Ynez is split up now, as is Rancho El Alamo Pintado. There are houses in the hills where cattle grazed in the Western landscape I will always remember.

The hills that I played on as a little boy have two or three beautiful homes on them, and beyond our old property line to the southeast are dozens of 5-acre ranchettes that make up Santa Ynez Oaks.

I would be willing to bet there are still more than a few coyotes roaming the same area today.

Whenever I hear the howling and yelping of coyotes in the night, it takes me back home to the memories of growing up on a small ranch.

Even now I will jump up in bed thinking I have to go out and scare away the coyotes from the sheep. Just ask my wife Karen.

Kevin Merrill is a vineyard manager for Mesa Vineyard Management in Santa Maria. He is president of the Central Coast Wine Growers' Association and a board member for the Santa Barbara County Farm Bureau. He can be reached at kmerrill@mesavineyard.com.

Feb. 11, 2007