Farm Fresh Blog

Would you kill for this?

Apparently someone in this house would.

Last night I baked sugar cookies, and a certain muddy little puppy was drawn to The Food Room by the wonderous sugary smells.  He appointed himself The Little Chef and sat beside the refrigerator to supervise the cookie baking. He carefully watched as each pan came out of the oven. He oversaw as each cookie was iced and sprinkled. 

 All was well until I ran out of cookies, and I still had PLENTY of icing left.  That's when I reached into the glass cookie jar on the counter and pulled out the Milk Bones.  Now in our home, cookie jars hold DOG cookies instead of PEOPLE cookies, and EVERYONE in this household knows the sound of The Cookie Jar opening.

So Lily rushed into The Food Room at the sound of the cookie jar.  That's when The Little Chef mutated.  Suddenly Emeril sprouted fangs.  He watched as I iced the Milk Bones. Lily slid into position to receive the expected Milk Bone.  Emeril then attempted to knife his best friend. She laughed at him and bounced away.  Emeril followed her and attempted to drive her from the kitchen. Suddenly it wasn't funny to her. 

"Stop it!" she ordered.

"LEAVE!!!!" the Soup Nazi screamed.

"Do not MAKE me hurt you!" she said.

"LEAVE!! LEAVE! LEAVE!" he screamed.  Suddenly he became Achmed the Dead Terrorist, "I WILL KILL YOU!!!!  I WILL KILL YOU!!!!"

Right there, in the kitchen, with flour and powdered sugar all over the counter, and me on the phone, a dog fight ensued. I let it go for an instant, thinking that surely the ADULT dog would put the smack-down on this snotty little brat, but Emeril continued his assault in his crazed attempt to drive Lily from the kitchen.  I screamed at them.  Lily quit fighting. Emeril continuted to knife his companion.  (What a little beast!!)  With hands full of cookie dough and powdered sugar, I yelled for Other Half to come and evict the Enraged Emeril from the kitchen.

With sanity and order restored, the Milk Bone decorating continued.

  Emeril sneaked back in the kitchen but was a bit more subdued.  Bones decorated, I passed out beaters.

Yes, that's all I needed - Emeril high on sugar frosting.  But since he'd managed to behave himself, I felt that he deserved a reward for his improved kitchen manners.

And yes, Lily (and everyone else) got a Special Milk Bone. . .

. . . and Emeril put up his knives.

Would you kiss this face?

Look closely. Think again.

I may have to put some serious thought into it the next time he climbs in my lap. Then again . . .

If you live on a farm long enough, your standards of cleanliness change a bit.  You actually consider things that never crossed your mind before you trudged through mud and cow poop each morning. (Read: Leopard Print Underwear Rules!)

Soooo . . . I'll let you be the judge.

Load up Blue Heeler (Ranger) and Border Collie (Lily) and drive out to feed cows. Note Worthless Barn Cat standing over Suspicious Something. Order dogs to stay in truck while I step out to investigate Suspicious Something.  Blue Heeler ignores me and bounces out of truck.  Break out in a string of cuss words. (Father, forgive me!) Border Collie stares in horror. The world has stopped spinning. Someone disobeyed Mom. She is aghast at Blue Heeler's behavior.  (She is, however, used to my cussing.) Blue Heeler stops in his tracks.  Stares. ("What? You got a problem?")  Hops back in truck.  Border Collie's world begins to spin again.

Leave dogs in truck while I investigate Suspicious Something. It is a scapula, a shoulder blade.  Decide that it is a deer scapula. Son must have cleaned a deer over here.  Mystery solved.  Call dogs out of truck.  Caution them to "Leave it!" Border Collie is still upset and thus she glances at me to make sure I see that she is ignoring the Nasty Object on the ground. I smile at her.  She smiles back.  She is assured, once again, that she is The Perfect Dog. Blue Heeler stops to sniff Nasty Object.  I growl at him. He raises his eyebrow, informs me that I am a "Bitchy Bear", lifts his leg and pisses on Nasty Object.

Walk out to feed cowponies. Dogs are not allowed around cowponies because they will stomp dogs.  Tell Border Collie to "DOWN" outside the gate.  She does.  Start to tell Blue Heeler . . . Oh never mind, forget it. He races around like an idiot.  He was blessed with phenomenal athletic ability, but very few brains.  Decide that there is no point in traumatizing Border Collie by having her witness Blue Heeler repeatedly leave his stay. Thus . . .  let Little Blue Dog zoom-zoom and giggle while Border Collie holds her stay. Feed cowponies. Blue Dog dances and giggles while they try to run him down.  Ignore him and feed cowponies. Call Border Collie.  She zooms into pasture and bounces on me.  She is delighted that she held her stay.  I assure her that Yes, she is The Perfect Dog. She nods and runs to the mule.

Climb into mule beside Border Collie.  Watch Blue Heeler roll in horse poop.  Scream at him. He stands up, offended that I would speak to him in that manner. Drive to feed room.  Load up cow feed.  Drive to pasture. Border Collie grins broadly as we bounce through the mud.  Scream at Blue Heeler for rolling in horse poop again.  He stands up - offended.

Cows are crowding the gate. Remind Border Collie to stay in vehicle. Blue Heeler races through fence and into pasture. Big Red Cow chases him. Blue Heeler giggles and darts just out of reach.  Drive mule through gate.  Border Collie catches my eye to remind me that she has stayed in the vehicle. Assure her that yes, she is The Perfect Dog.  She smiles at me and snaps at cows that get too close to the mule as we drive.  Feed cows.  Scream at Blue Heeler for rolling in cow poop. He stands up - offended.

Drive back out.  Scream at Blue Heeler to keep him from jumping in the pond. Wish I had a dog crate bolted inside the bed of my pick-up. Step off mule and into deep mud puddle.  Note that Border Collie leaps over mud puddle.  She turns to smile at me.  I smile back and assure her that, yes, she is The Perfect Dog.  Call Blue Heeler.  He is dancing around the heels of Annoyed Cowpony.  Am reminded of M.C. Hammer song, "Can't touch this!" 

Go to water faucet to hose mud off boots.  Blast ice cold water on them. Turn to see Blue Heeler with Nasty Object.  Scream at him.  Forget what I am doing and blast ice cold water inside my boot.  Cuss.  Blue Heeler drops Nasty Object - offended.

Am forced to allow Blue Dog to sit on leather Lariat F250 seats. He smiles at me.  There is cow poop between his teeth.  Drive home. Sheep have already come in.  Note sheep placenta in stall.  Decide that Livestock Guardian Dog only ate part of it this morning when she cleaned up after sheep birth.  Scoop Disgusting Stringy Object up with barn rake.  Exit barn with Disgusting Stringy Object. Baby Border Collie runs right up to barn rake. With the kind of blinding speed that only a Baby Border Collie possesses, he grabs Disgusting Stringy Object off rake and runs like a Spotted Ape into the darkness.  He is Gollum, galloping through the dark with a golden ring, mumbling something about "His Precious".  I stand there, screaming like a Fishmonger's Wife with my empty barn rake.  Call Baby Border Collie.  (crickets chirping)  Blue Heeler giggles. He is right.  The clouds have parted and I see things clearly now.  On the Cootie scale, suddenly a little cow poop doesn't seem as big a deal.  Listen to the darkness.  Crickets are still chirping. 

Gollum does not come back until he has fully consumed "His Precious."   He bounces up to Other Half.  His feet are smeared with blood.  Other Half gags. Blue Heeler giggles.

Look what the New Year brought! 

 He was born shortly before 6 AM this morning.

The Christmas lamb is doing just fine. 

 We'll keep her, so we named her Holly.

(I know!  I know!  I know!  Don't name your food!  But since we're keeping her for breeding, not eating, she gets a name. )

Look how big these babies are!  They are just two months old!  I'm still amazed with how quickly these Dorper sheep gain weight.  They really out-perform our Boer goats. I'll still keep goats, but this is our second crop of Dorper sheep and now I'm convinced that are a much better deal.  They are easier on the fences, they handle the Texas heat, thus far, we haven't had to help with any deliveries, and they gain weight FAST!

As always, Briar continues to amaze me.  This is her first crop of lambs, so we still don't trust her alone with them. (cuz she is big and they are small!) but she remains quiet and watchful around her flock.  This is such a contrast to her normal behavior.  Away from the sheep, Briar is a bull in a china shop.

With the sheep, she oozes between around them like warm butter.

Briar is really getting into watching the flock during this lambing season.  Today she cleaned up the afterbirth, and then threw it up. (I'll spare you those pictures!) After I separated the momma and baby, I let Briar come inside with everyone else.  She oozed around the paddock and settled down to watch the other lambs. Until . . .

This horse almost lost his nose.

Apparently "Oozey Briar" can mutate very quickly into "Cujo Briar" when she has lambs. (Point noted.)

But since this little guy is not much more than a "coyote sandwich" himself, I'm sure he really appreciates having Cujo Briar so close.

"Like wind flies Time 'tween birth and death;

Therefore, as long as thou hast breath,

Of care for two days hold thee free:

The day that was and is to be."

Omar Khayyam (c.1048-1131)

Eegaads!  The bows are still lurking under the kitchen table, used gift bags are stacked inside each other and packed away, and credit card bills have arrived like chickens coming home to roost.  It's time to pay the piper!

I spent the morning paying bills. Sigh . . .  some days I feel like this dog . . .

 "Where's my tail?"

"There's my tail!"

 "A-a-a-almost got it!"

"Nope. . .There it is!"

 "Woowh! I'm dizzy . . ."

"Was that VISA or MasterCard?"

Check out these ears! 

Trace looks more like Dumbo the Flying Elephant than a Border Collie!

  Eeegaads!

I'm sure this really convinces the naysayers that Trace is NOT a Border Collie.  After all, Border Collies should look like this:

                                       Right?

Wrong!

I give you Exhibits A & B:

A Tale (Tail) of Two Puppies

 Ruby

Trace 

They are young Jedi Warriors . . . they are Border Collie!

While other breeds go for a walk, our young Jedi Warriors go for a stalk . . .

May the Force be with them!

 And after they stalk everything that moves in the pasture, they finally collapse . . . and the Universe takes a moment to recover.

Read more about the Liver-Coated Sneak-Stalking Sheepdog:

Sometimes Mom's new dog, Stone, looks over at our side of the fence.

  I can see his mind working . . .

Our side of the fence has sheep, and cows, and horses, and lots of other dogs.

I'll bet he wonders about life on this side of the fence.  But he always chooses . . .

 . . . his new mom!

 He seems . . .

. . .  pretty . . .                                           

                    . . . happy. . . 

 . . . with his choice!

There is something magical about little girls and horses.

My brother brought his family to the farm on Christmas Eve and once again, Ona proved that she is worth her (ample) weight in gold.  My nieces climbed aboard her broad back for pony rides. No one has been on Ona in months. No biggie.  This is Ona - The Golden Horse.  As long as Little Girls come bearing horse cookies, she will walk circles all day long.  She really is the perfect horse - so patient, so calm. Nothing much bothers Ona.

You can't put a price on a horse like this.

 . . . or smiles like this.

Ona is okay with walking large, patient circles, with anyone at the helm.

I didn't buy Ona for this.  I bought Ona to teach me how to drive.  And she is as calm and patient with big girls as she is with little girls. 

By the way . . .

. . . as far as we know . . .  

. . . . Ona has never been broke to ride.

(She is utterly clueless regarding leg aids. We believe she is just so calm that she doesn't mind passengers. Yep, a true Golden Girl. Nope, Ona is not for sale.)

"I didn't trade Trace the lamb for the pig ear. I like looking at my lamb. Mom says it's better than television."

"I like watchin' her play."

 "She runs . . . "

". . . and she bounces."

 "Trace likes watchin' her too, but I don't think it's the same. He says he'll trade me a pig ear, a Milk Bone, aaaand his stuffed chipmunk for her."

"No deal."

"Trace's chipmunk doesn't even have a tail!"

"Santa Paws came! I missed him! I missed him!"

We stayed up real late. We waited and we waited . . . and we watched. . .

. . . and we listened . . .

Oli promised that she wouldn't eat Santa Paws.

Cowboy promised he wouldn't chase the reindeer.

This is Trace's first Christmas, so he was real excited.

It's my first Christmas too! I was gonna stay up all night long . . .

. . . but I got sidetracked looking for Jesus and . . .

. . . and I fell asleep!

I missed him!  I missed him!  

But look what he left!

 . . . and this!

We got a new baby lamb!!!!

(Trace and I are still arguing over who gets the baby lamb . . . He said he'd trade me a pig ear for it.)