Farm Fresh Blog

Value cannot be measured in beauty alone.

This horse is not valuable because he's beautiful.  He's valuable because he's been my friend for over 25 years.

This horse is not valuable because he's beautiful.  He's valuable because he's a silly goof who has made me laugh since he was a kid.

I don't really know this horse that well yet, but yesterday I learned that she was really valuable too.

She has a quiet beauty . . .  and that might just make her the most valuable horse of all . . .

The boys got into a huge fight yesterday. Cowdog lost.

  He's on three legs now.

 Small punctures on either side of the joint

  OUCH!

You know why this happened? I'll tell ya.  This happened because Other Half just left town on another assignment and I was put in charge of his new dog.  Oh dear . . .

  "But he started it!"

This morning I was watching Briar chase a butterfly. A giant lumbering white mountain danced across the pasture as the swallowtail darted just ahead of her.  (No, I didn't have a video camera.  Trust me, you'd be the first to know!)  Anyway, it got me to thinking about how quickly some things change.  It seems just yesterday when that lumbering mountain was a fluffy hill.

Briar then:

Briar now:

Wet Briar then:

Wet Briar now:

Other things on the farm have changed too. 

Ruffy then:

Ruffy now!

Hehehehehe!  Just kidding!

I've always wanted a milk goat.  Although I'm not a big milk drinker anyway, I've clung to the belief that anything I raise is probably cleaner and healthier than most commercial products.  Besides, even though I LIKE the convenience of grocery stores, I don't like the fact that big industry and government is in complete control of my food.  (Egaads!  I've become that crazy old person who rants about the government and I'm only 47!  What happened to me???)

But I digress . . .

I don't raise milk goats.  I raise meat goats.  But I've been told . . .

(This is always the part where Other Half hunkers down and waits for whatever harebrained idea that I managed to gather from the internet on whatever subject catches my fancy.)

 . . .  I've been told that Boer goats give really creamy milk and can be really good milk goats!  (an idea is born!)

Now realistically I don't have time for a proper milk goat (Other Half vigorously nods his head in agreement!) but there is no reason why I can't start teaching one or two of my Boer does to allow me to milk them.  (Other Half hangs his head in despair.)

The perfect opportunity arrived when one of the babies was only nursing from one teat.  I called Dear Friend With Vet Husband (who is often my partner in crime) and we decided that we needed to start miilking that teat.  (just for practice!)  Vet Husband agreed.  Other Half, who is the only one with actual milking experience (cows!) argued that we were opening up a can of worms. 

     "Milking is something that has to be done EVERY DAY!  Y'all understand that?"

We assured him that we were up to the task. He agreed to teach us how to milk, take pictures, and minimize the laughing.

Step One: catch the goat

Eva can be petted on her back, but was not all wild about the idea of being milked.  She did however, like the idea of being fed. 

Step Two: feed the goat

We decided that we would feed Eva on a large wooden bed-size stand so she'd be easier to milk.  No, we didn't have a milking stand. No, we didn't separate the other goats.

  It was a group effort.  Dolly wanted some of Eva's feed.  Eva stood relatively still while she gobbled.  Our attempts to milk were pitifully unproductive.  Other Half was forced to put down the camera and show us how to properly milk out a teat.

  Ahhhhh haaaaa!

Milk was flowing!  We were excited! We were milking a goat!  Day one of milking was a success!

Day Two of Milking:

     We were better prepared this time. We separated goats. We had the feed ready. We started milking. The goat knocked the pail over.  No sense crying over spilled milk.  Now we know where the saying came from.

By the next day of milking the goat was easier to handle, but the baby was using that teat on his own. We had another pow-wow.  Other Half STRONGLY urged us to abandon our daily attempts at group milking. Since everyone had to go back to work and the baby was nursing that teat on his own anyway, we agreed - but ONLY because we decided that we needed to get a milking stand, and tame the goat to the point where only one person was required to milk the goat rather than three.

So . . .  until then, we're back to milking goats the old fashion way  . . .

A 4 Wheeler is almost a necessity on a farm (unless of course you have a draft pony like I do now! But I digress . . .)

A 4 Wheeler is almost a necessity on a farm. It's handy to have a dog that rides on the 4 Wheeler.  To his delight, Other Half discovered that his new Border Collie loved to ride on the 4 Wheeler.

He loves it so much that we decided Thing 2 could teach Thing 1 how to enjoy riding on the 4 Wheeler. 

  So we loaded her up and off they went!

  Like a kid, she turned around to make sure I was watching.

  "Yes, I'm still watching you."

 She decided that she liked riding the 4 Wheeler. Perhaps not as much as her companion, who bounced and snapped his way around the yard, but she enjoyed riding . . . as long as I stood on the porch and watched her.

"Gypsy gold does not chink and glitter.

It gleams in the sun

and neighs in the dark."

We went to see Ona yesterday and I fell in love with her. We just had to bring her home!

Doug and Debbie, Percheron friends of ours, have promised to teach us to drive this golden mountain.  They have very big horses!

 Percherons!

 and a baby Suffolk!

Ona used to be a Marathon Driving horse so she knows what she's doing.  I don't know anything about driving horses, so I'll need the lessons.   Doug & Debbie bought Ona's driving partner, Magic. 

Doug & Debbie introduce the Haflingers to the BIG horses!

When Ona came home, she met the minis!

 Big difference! 

  Mighty Mountain!

  Mini-Me!

Look at this girl.  I love this little chunky monkey!  (Girlfriend has got some junk in her trunk!)

Sunday morning we're going to check her out to see if she can fill the position as Resident Bumming Around The Back Yard Horse. She's an 8 year old Haflinger who used to be a Marathon Driving Horse and has been ridden bareback by kids.  I'm told that she's a calm and easy-going girl so hopefully she'll work as a Drink Frappuccino While I Sit On Her Back And Watch The Birds Horse. (Yes, I quit drinking the Starbucks frappuccinos.  Yeah!  Kicked the habit! No, not completely . . .  I'm making my own homemade frapps now. . . . I know. I'm weak. Sue me.)

We have friends with Percherons who are going to teach me to drive with her.  Other Half has already been on the internet looking at buckboards.  Please! Good grief! Those suckers are expensive!  While I was interested in a horse that could double as a 4-wheeler for hauling feed, hay, and heavy tree limbs, he's looking at wagons.  Wagons are NOT cheap! 

If we like her, we'll take her on a two week trial. Keep your fingers crossed! If I'm really, REALLY lucky, she may actually become as cherished as my Velveteen Rabbit.   (The Velveteen Rabbit)

This morning I tried to send Other Half on a scouting mission to look at a horse for me.  He would have none of it.

"I can't pick out a horse for you!" he said.

"Why not?"

"Because you always want those Fairy Tale horses!"

This confused me.  Then I realized that he was used to looking at this:

and this:

Admittedly, they ARE Fairy Tale horses. But before Other Half, there was another horse - my Velveteen Rabbit.

Her name was Sonora. I called her Sonny. She was a swaybacked old brood mare who had fallen on hard times.  I rescued her at an auction as she was one step away from the meat packer, and she paid me back ten-fold.   She was never "fairy tale" horse pretty, but I broke her to ride, and I trusted her.  I used to climb up on her broad back and slide down into the sway.  While she grazed in the back yard, I surveyed my little kingdom, drinking coffee, safe in the curve of that old mare's back. Perhaps she was just a different kind of Fairy Tale horse.  Sonny has always reminded me of The Skin Horse in the tale of The Velveteen Rabbit.

The Velveteen Rabbit

The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive.

But the Skin Horse only smiled.

Sonny might not have been the picture of a fairy tale horse, but she was certainly REAL and I miss my little fairy tale old mare.

NEWS FLASH!

Napolean's little buddy, Ruffy, is staying! (Her husband vetoed adding another horse, even a pint-sized one! We made the deal that any time she wants to borrow the little fellows for a parade, she can just pick them up!)

Things are returning to normal.  The boys are bookends and Montoya has returned home from the trainer's place.

               Little Buddy

      Big Buddy!

The Porch Ponies are blowing their shaggy winter coats. Great gobs of pony hair are floating everywhere. I try to brush them but it's hard to keep ahead of the spring blow. Sometimes you just need a little help from a friend.

  "Yeah!  A little to the right!"

This brings me to our news for the day.  Today we are taking Ruffy, my red-headed demon, back to his previous owner.  She spoke to me over the weekend and the family misses the little devil.  They regularly used him in parades and he is a mainstay with the cheerleaders.  When the town sees those cheerleaders, they expect to see Ruffy and Napolean.  So I agreed to sell Ruffy back to her.  I want to keep Napolean and she has agreed to help me find a companion for him to replace Ruffy.  

Other Half has informed me that Napolean doesn't NEED a companion, that a goat would work just fine.  But I say, NAY! (neigh!!!)  A goat can't do this:

"Ohhhhh yeahhhhhh! That's the spot!"