So far, March has been quite a bit warmer than normal. The rains we all need have not materialized, but the month is not over yet.

We have turned on our sprinklers throughout our vineyards to make up for the lack of precipitation usually provided by Mother Nature.

We do see a nice, even bud break in our pinot noir and chardonnay vines. Our red varieties will not be far behind if the warm weather continues.

We keep the reservoirs filled this time of year, not only for irrigation but also for frost protection. On a warm evening last week, the kids, Kathleen and Clayton, my wife, Karen, and our dog, Pico, went out with me to check the wells pumping into the reservoir.

We drove up onto the road surrounding the reservoir and watched the cool, clear water come out of the pipe from the wells and spill down the plastic-lined bank.

About six or seven ducks and the same number of mud hens slowly swam along the far side of the pond. They really did not seem to care if we were there or not.

We could see the fog making its way toward us, flowing over the hills and down into the canyons to the west.

Pico was busy looking into old squirrel holes along the way. As I watched Pico go back and forth, I was reminded of another dog we had when I was a boy growing up on the ranch near Ballard.

We had a flat-coated retriever mix we named Chico. He was about the same size as our Queensland heeler, Pico, but he was thinner.

As I recall, someone had turned him in to Dr. Craig Larsen/s vet hospital on Alamo Pintado Road. He was still a puppy and his owner was tired of him tearing up the plants in his yard.

Our neighbor and good friend Greg Duer worked for Dr. Larsen at that time, saw the puppy and thought we could provide a good home for him.

Greg had a flat-coated retriever named Max who was a great dog, so we took the puppy. We got him home and named him Chico. His tail had been docked but left longer than most, measuring around five inches.

Soon Chico was part of the family. He never grew as big as Greg/s dog, Max, and we suspected he had a little Queensland in him.

Chico went everywhere with us. He rode on the hay trailer, followed the tractors when we were working in the fields and loved to swim in the reservoir with us on hot days and evenings. My Grandfather Sam used to say he was a pleasure but a little cheeky.

This was the same dog who ate the walnuts from under the trees at harvest time. He would also take advantage of any food that was within his reach.

I remember one time in particular when two repairmen came to work on our well. They were going to be there most of the day, so we warned them to be careful with their lunches so Chico would not get them.

They did not listen to us and, sure enough, Chico climbed into their service truck via an open window and ate most of their sandwiches and chips.

As they drove away hungry that night, I remember them telling us we were right and they should have taken our advice.

We thought Chico had a little Queensland in him because he used to nip the back of visitors/ ankles. He did this often enough that we used to call him &#8220the doctor,C using his surgical skills on certain people.

It was never a real bite, just an annoying nip to let them know he was there.

One time, there was an Electrolux vacuum cleaner salesman named Herr Gruenner. He had a very heavy German accent, and he kept calling to set up an appointment to sell us a new vacuum cleaner.

We told him in a polite manner not to come into the yard if we were not home, knowing that Dr. Chico Merrill might decide to operate.

Herr Gruenner finally made an appointment with Mom to show off the vacuum cleaner. He got the date wrong and came on the wrong day when we were not home. Into the yard he marched with his wares and knocked on the door.

Chico came around the corner and grabbed his ankle, tearing his pants sufficiently to need them mended by our neighbor, Betty Phelps, before conducting any more business that day.

I suppose we were lucky we were not sued. I don/t think Herr Gruenner came back to sell us the vacuum cleaner, either.

Chico was a great ranch dog. You could almost see him smile when we were home and he was able to go with us around the ranch.

As we drove home from checking the wells and reservoir on the vineyard, I counted my blessings and watched as Kathleen and Clayton ran up the hill behind our house to help feed Pico and lock up the chickens for the night.

Precious memories in the making.

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

March 25, 2007