Farm Fresh Blog

Today was Ranger's big day! A bull calf was headed to the sale barn and Coach (Other Half) elected to pull Ranger off the bench to allow him to push the calf into the cattle trailer.  Ranger was soooo excited.

"Put me in, Coach!  Put me in!"

Lily was ready.  Lily is always ready.

Trace was not nearly as happy about the arrangement.

"wHy dOO I hAf tO sIt iN tHa tRuCk?"

It seemed simple. The calf was already in the trap, just open the trailer doors and have the dogs push the little bull into the trailer.  No problem, right?

Oh wait, I forgot we were talking about Ranger. . . Ranger . . . who hasn't worked ANYTHING in a while, much less a recently weaned bull calf.

(It was a train wreck!)

Lily pushed the calf toward the trailer, Ranger scooted out of the pen, then ran back under the trailer door to scream, "Boogity! Boogity!" at the calf as he got close to the trailer.  The calf ran over Lily.

We yelled at Ranger to get back in the pen and help Lily push.  He ran to the other side of the trailer, stuck his head under the trailer door and screamed,

 "Boogity! Boogity!" at the calf.  It ran back over Lily.

This happened three times. The last time, he sprang out from underneath the trailer and the bull calf ran over Lily, crashed through the fence and landed in the roping arena with the other calves. 

There was silence for a moment.  You could hear Lily panting and Other Half counting to ten.  I'll give the man credit. Instead of screaming at the dog (like he normally would have done!) he quietly said, "Put Ranger back in the truck."

 "Back on tha bench . . ."

Lily had to help us cut out the bull calf, return him to the pen, and load him into the trailer by herself.  In the process she got kicked once and bit her tongue.

Once we got the bull calf separated again, Lily and I stood outside the pen and put pressure from the outside to keep the rascal from crashing over the fence again.  That's when I found out that THIS calf has an evil side (just like her mother)

This is Mocha. Her mother is the biggest, nastiest, black cow on the property.  She is a chip off the old block.  While Lily was focused on keeping the bull calf from crashing over the pen, this calf stalked and rushed Lily. Fortunately Lily saw her coming, stepped aside, grabbed her nose and sent her packing with a bite to the heel.  Three times this stupid calf tried to stomp my precious Lily.  (Her days may be numbered if she keeps that shit up . . . I'm just saying . . . )

But Lily handled it with all the grace of a ballet dancer armed with a switchblade. I was impressed.  So was Mocha.

So off to the sale we went.

Once there, Other Half unloaded the bull calf while I took a moment to document Trace's first cattle auction. He was like a pig in slop.

 "LOoK!!"

A cowboy came over to talk with me about Lily. All three dogs lined up for a group shot. He didn't pet Ranger. Ranger bites.  (pardon the quality of the pics! Thou shalt not fiddle with the camera when working cattle.)

 "cOWZ!!"

Twenty minutes later you see that Ranger is already bored.  The Border Collies are still waiting, confident that if they watch the cows long enough, their patience will be rewarded and we will ask them to unload cattle belonging to a total stranger. 

"Hey, when are we going to Whataburger?"

Thirty minutes later Ranger is beyond bored.  Trace is now fantasizing that a Brahma bull will break loose and he will be called out of the truck to assist in getting the bull back in the pen.

Lily is certain, absolutely certain, that when everything goes to hell in a handbasket, she will be ready to get it all gathered back together and put in the basket again. 

You might ask yourself if this dog ever relaxes.  The answer is "yes" . . . on the drive back home.

I have a problem.  See it?

I work a full-time job and have two farms. We have cattle at one farm and the other farm has goats and sheep. Both farms have horses. We both spend so much time either at work, or working on the farms (hauling hay, fixing fence, broken pipes, planting rye grass, weaning babies, taking livestock to the sale barn, etc.) that riding for pleasure is actually
the LAST thing I want to do.

I have a $7000 horse that my trainer rides more than I do! Montoya, my Andalusian
cross, is an awesome horse and I've told Other Half that if I NEVER throw a leg
across his back again, I won't ever sell him because he's my baby. I've had him since
he was a weanling.

BUT . . . a dear friend (bless her heart for trying) calls me regularly to go
trail riding. Yet every weekend there is "something" going on that keeps me
from riding. Yesterday (after she called AGAIN for next weekend!) I put some
thought into why a $7000 sweetheart horse was sitting idle in the pasture and I
realized that I've lost the interest in trailriding because it's so much trouble
to load the trailer, haul to wherever we go, ride, then haul back. Minimum time
- most of the day.

I used to be able to saddle up and ride from my house, but now our area has
developed so I can't go many places safely. Now each ride is such a major
production, and I'm already so tired from working everything else, that I just
avoid it totally.

So I told myself that since I have absolutely no intention of selling my horse,
I have to find something to do with him that makes my heart go pitty-pat enough
for me to MAKE time to haul my horse and climb up on his tall-ass self! The
only two things that come to my mind are Team Penning and Cowboy Mounted
Shooting.

Cowboy Mounted Shooting will have to wait because I can't afford the gear right
now, but I'm seriously considering playing at Team Penning. (Just for fun,
nothing serious!) We have cattle.  We have a roping arena.  Team penning would be something we could do together that doesn't cost any money and we can train for it a couple of hours once or twice a week.

Riding for me is fun, but now I'm pulled in so many different directions that
instead of seeing it as relaxing, I see it as one more chore to make time to do.
I'd like to get more passionate about it, without being so serious that it
becomes work.

Anyway, is anyone else like me, too busy and too tired to ride?

 Who would not wanna ride this horse?

He is as smooth as warm butter underneath you!  (Andalusian/Paso Fino cross)

Even when I get off work on time, it's still 1 AM when I get to bed. No matter what time I get to bed, Trace gets up at 7:30 AM . . . on the dot. He was playing hockey in his kennel beside the bed this morning so I decided, "Why fight it?" and just got up to turn him out. 

 The fog had rolled in and the farm was blanketed in a thick layer of peace.

Our lemon trees are in bloom and the sweet smell permeated the porch.

So I stepped out into the welcoming serenity of a foggy morning to do my chores.

 "What the heck . . .

 . . . is that??!!"

"Houston, we have a problem!!!"

Apparently fences are "no big thang" for our Caped Crusader.

 "WHaT?"

Thank God my little comet comes when he's called, because he was on a collision course with Rasta the Nasty. So now I get to spend my day before I go to the office cramming landscape timbers between the fence and the ground so he can't slither his skinny little butt under the fence! So much for peace and serenity.

"oH! hOrsE pOOp!  mY fAvoRiTe!!"

"hEy DuDz!"

"iM n tHa baK oF tHa tRuk!  iM n tHa baK oF tHa tRuk!

MuM cAwLz iT tHa bOrDeR cAwLy bAbYsiTTeR!  (I AiNt nO bAbY!) MuM sTandZ owTsIdE tHa tRuk wHILe DeDDy unLOadz cOw fEEd sO I kEn WaTcH tHa cOwz!"  

(MuM waTcHz mE cLose bUt I AiNt a bAby,  I AiNt goNNa fAwL owT!) 

"MuM caWLz us bArBed wIre bOrDeR cAwLyz cuz bArBed wIre iz UseFul to raNcheRs n sew R bOrDer cAwLyz!"

"Stay in tha truck Stupid! Yer Too Little to work cows."

"I cAnT wAiT TiL i gRoW uP!!!!  bYe dUdzzzzzzz!"

(Disclaimer: None of the dogs is allowed to ride in the back of the truck outside the pasture and Trace is NOT allowed in the back of the truck unattended by a HUMAN!)

Guess what time it is!!!

This is Briar's first lambing season.  She is meeting her lambs for the first time.

Because she is young and enormous, Briar isn't allowed with the lambs without supervision.  The other ewes, particularly Rasta the Nasty is very protective of this first set of twins, so it's in Briar's best interest to stay at a healthy distance anyway.

"I've got my eye on you, you stupid dog!"

It's county fair time!  This is a Big Deal around these parts mostly because of the commercial heifer auction.  (I know . . . more cows)

Other Half simply cannot pass up a cattle auction. As we have already discussed, even our vacations somehow end up centering around livestock.  We have been known to whip into a cattle auction while en route across Texas for something else just because he wants to see what cattle are bringing in different parts of the state.  Actually, I don't believe it has anything to do with cattle prices, I think it's a sickness - and it's genetic.

I give you State's Exhibit A -

His Granddaughter at the cattle auction

(The acorn doesn't fall far from the tree.)

This child does love the County Fair Commercial Heifer Auction.  After all, what's not to love? 

The Fair has cows, free food, free drinks (so buyers will buy MORE cows!) and more cows! She was enthralled!

She gets her own sign so she can buy her own cows.  (Yes, she bought her first heifer last fall! The office said she was their youngest buyer yet!)

Lilah's cow, #197!

Other Half has always loved his black cows, but last year the kids and I convinced him to get a Santa Gertrudis at the County Fair. 

Now we're sold on 'em and after a field trip to the King Ranch in South Texas, Other Half has decided that it's time to start turning the herd towards these hardy red cows. 

We'd like to have about 50 more like this!

That said, Other Half bought another Santa Gertrudis at the fair this year.

Meet Daisy Mae!

 (Yes, that's what her name was, so "Daisy Mae" it is!)

The little girl decorated Daisy Mae for the auction. (Guess who had to wash off all that paint and glitter this morning?  Yep, little ole me!)

Other Half really likes to support the Fair kids. He bought this little girl's heifer 4 years ago.

It was her first show heifer.  She cried and cried when she sold Angel. She's older now, but each year she asks about Angel and we're happy to report that Angel is a good mother and is producing nice calves.  She won Reserve Grand Champion with her calf this year and her father thanked Other Half for starting it all by buying that first calf.

When I look at this little girl, who cannot take her eyes off the excitement of the auction,

I'm reminded of her grandfather, wheeling and dealing cattle, . . .  

 . . . and I cannot help but wonder if she'll be showing cows too. 

Something tells me that she probably will . . .

One thing's for sure . . . if she wants to show cattle,

her grandpappy will have lots of nice red calves for her to choose from.

"Im giTTn purTee DaRned tIred oF hEErin, "Trace, Yer tOO LiTTle!"

"wE wuz haWLin hAy tooDAY n I cooDnT giT owt oF tha Truk!"

"N wheN wE wuz DoNe, I haD too weAR a LEESH wheN I goT owt"

"I dOnT nEEd nO sTinKn LEESH!"

"QUIT pULLn mA LEESH!!!"

"LiLy gOt oN tOp oF thA rOwnD bALeS."

 "Ha Ha, Yer too LITTLE!"

"MuM puT mE uP tHeRe!!!!  pLees!!!"

 "wOw! iT reeLLy IZ a LoNg wAy dOwn!"

"yOO kEn sEE fuRevEr uP hEre!  Iz awL thiS oUrs?"

"Nope.  It's all MINE!  You're too LITTLE!" 

The Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe would have lost her mind if she had lived on a farm. While I have no little children bouncing around here, we do have so many dogs, cats, goats, sheep, and horses, that I feel like I have "so many children, I don't know what to do!" 

We just bounce from one drama to the next.  If you have enough pets and livestock, you WILL have drama. My Livestock Guardian Dog, Briar, was the big adventure for yesterday. Who knew that someone could get soooo melodramatic about a jolt of electricity?  I was so caught up in Briar's metamorphosis into a 747 jet jumping fences that Trace's adventure fell between the cracks.  After all, who notices a "foosa" when there's a white freight train hurtling across the pasture?

Anyone who has seen the movie "Madagascar" will recall that a "foosa" is a small furry meat-eating predator. (If you haven't seen the movie, then you absolutely, positively MUST rent it!  I promise you will laugh so hard you'll pee on yourself! But I digress . . . )

 Deep in thought, I opened a gate to allow sheep to move into an adjacent paddock. The sheep filed in and immediately came to attention.  (This is a clue that you should look behind you.) Lost in my world of hotwire and haywired dogs, I failed to remember that Trace is small enough to slither out of the back yard and follow me.  Thus the adventure began:

Note puppy sink into classic Border Collie crouch.  "I'm a Foosa!" he said.

Call puppy. Note puppy has developed a hearing loss. Puppy begins to slink forward toward sheep.  Sheep stare in disbelief. 

"Is that a Foosa?!!"

"Yeeeesssss!  I AM a Foosa," Trace assures them.

I attempt to scoop him up.  Despite the fact that he never takes his eyes off the sheep, he easily scoots out of arms' reach.  I spout UnChristian-like words. (Yes, the Lord knows my weakness and we're working on it, but progress is slow.)

The sheep continue to ask each other, "Is that really a Foosa?"

Like a suave python, Trace mesmorizes them as he gets closer and closer.  Again and again, I reach out and end up grabbing air. (very humbling) Rasta, the largest, nastiest ewe, gives him the "hairy eye" as he approaches.  Desperate, I snatch at air again as he assesses the problem.  Like David before Goliath, the puppy glares at the ewe.  Then he reaches deep into his chest and pulls out a Power Bark.

"YESSS!!!!!  It IS a FOOSA!" the sheep scream in unison. 

By now, Trace is drunk with power and slithers behind them as they file back into their pasture like obedient school children. I grab him when he turns to grin at me. 

"Gotcha!"

I hug him tightly as he wags his little windshield-wiper tail, still dizzy with his new-found Superpower. Then I remind him that he is Pre-schooler and will not be pulling out his "Super Suit" any time soon.  (and I found 5 new gray hairs on my head!)

   "What was he thinking?"

Many of you may recall Briar's first experience with electricity.  It wasn't pretty.  She cried. I cried. We were both hysterical.  But that was last spring, when the ground was wet, and Briar was younger.  (I'm not sure why I thought anything would change in a few months . . .)

     But the sheep have overgrazed some areas and it's time to pen them up with the goats and the ponies while the pastures recover and the rye grass takes root. This worked well for about 45 minutes.  Briar puttered around, checking out her digs while I went back to the house.  Then I heard the screams. 

     It started in the distance, like the whine of a locomotive.  As it grew closer, a large white freight train roared into sight.  I was on the back porch with Ranger when he leaped the fence to go help Briar.  At the same time, Briar was climbing out of the pasture - and raking her back along the hot wire strand.  The screams reached a new octave, and the freight train launched into overdrive. 

     She passed Ranger like a jet taking off the runway as she leaped into the back yard.  The other dogs and I watched in open-mouth disbelief as a 747 squeezed through the doggy door and into the house.  I went inside to find a quivering mass of jelly hiding in the hallway.  Ranger scurried in with me to make sure she was okay.  Briar was definitely NOT okay.

An hour later she was still huddled on a sheep skin in my office.  Oh well . . . like oil & water, I guess Briar and hotwire won't ever mix.

"But I don't WANNA go back in there!"

Embrace your obstacles!

When Life squirts water in your ears, shake it off!

"Shake it out, Little Dude."

 "Can't . . get . . it . . . out!"

Climb great pinnacles . . .

. . . and chase your problems away!

Then . . .

 Sleep hard!