Farm Fresh Blog

These dogs are polar opposites.

Big Goofy Bumbly Friendly meets Sleek Serious Suave Reserved

Most of the time, Ice ignores Briar. The Big White Dog is beneath her - far, far, far beneath her.  Since her brother's death, Ice has claimed the crown, and wields the scepter of Top Dawg. Even Lily fawns over Ice, grateful for any attention the Queen tosses her way.

Unlike her brother, The Enforcer, Ice is not a bully. For the most part, she ignores the peasants of the pack, only exercising her power when she deems it necessary.  And when she does, like her brother, she swings a big hammer - as Briar found out this morning. I regret that I did not have my camera.

A cold front blew in last night. Cool, brisk wind rolled across the pasture making the morning walk a special delight for those of us with heavy coats.  (not so good for those of us who failed to dress accordingly)  Briar was beside herself with happiness.  While the sheep ate breakfast, she got to play with the pack.

Unfortunately, she was a bit too rough with Trace for his Godfather's liking, and Ranger rolled her. 

Briar, feeling a bit cheeky on this cold morning, decided that today was the day to challenge The Godfather.  After all, she IS twice his size.

And that's when the Queen rushed in like Thor the Thunder God slinging her hammer. It was a bad day for Briar. 

 Fortunately she gave in immediately so no blood was shed.  The Godfather's authority was established once again, and Ice reinforced the immortal words of Dwight D. Eisenhower,

"What counts is not necessarily the size of the dog in the fight,
it's the size of the fight in the dog."

"Dudes!  I got sand in my ears!"
 

Briar has had an unusual fascination with these lambs.

She often follows them around the pasture.

They reluctantly put up with her obsessive affection.  At least I thought that was the case. . .

Until I finish getting hotwire up around the entire lamb paddock, Briar is stuck on a cable, where she can only supervise.  On one of my multiple "Briar checks", I happened to catch this through the patio door.  (pardon the photos, I was shooting through the glass.)

Briar's lambs had come to her. They had an entire paddock, and my back yard, and they chose to bed down with their giant white friend.

 "Bored. Let's go."

 "Come on, Sis."

 "Are you coming Big White Dog?"

"Nope."         

"Why not? Come on. Let's go!"

"Can't. Tied."

"Dude!  That sucks!"

"Tell me about it."

"Because you chased the garbage man?"

"So they say . . . I think it's a coyote plot."

"Oh well, I guess I'll stay here with you then."

"Hey, you could stand to stay out of the pond. Your butt smells like a goldfish bowl."

"Gee, thanks."

"If your friends can't be honest with you, who can? I mean really, Girlfriend, your butt smells like a goldfish bowl."

"Thank you for your opinion."

"I'm just saying."

"I think I smell a hungry coyote."

"WHERE?!  Where's a coyote?!!!"

Police Dog

Police Dog on Crack

Retired Police Dog

Current Police Dog

Mellow

Psycho

Any Questions?

 Yes, we DO feed Oli. She simply has the metabolism of a hummingbird.  She trots endless circles in the yard or digs to China.  Zena, on the other hand, only trots to her dog dish.

     Briar was a Very Bad Big White Gorilla yesterday. She has developed a habit of hopping into G'Ma's yard, going through the chicken yard, and hopping the fence to get off the property and threaten neighbors who drive up in their own yards, and garbage men. 

     As we sat at the table yesterday, we watched Briar scale two fences to race across G'Ma's yard and terrorize some poor garbage man who bravely defended himself with a trash can.  It wasn't pretty.  Other Half almost choked on his cereal.  He advised me that if we cannot control Briar, we will have to consider getting rid of her.  (Like THAT's gonna happen! Not in this lifetime!)

Fortunately for Briar, she is Mommy's dog, and Mommy doesn't dump problem dogs, Mommy fixes the problem. Unfortunately for Briar, Mommy fixes the problem. 

Briar and electricity have a history together.  It was short. It was ugly. But Mommy will spend the next few mornings hammering insulators along the lamb paddock and G'Ma's yard.  Briar is about to meet electricity somewhere other than the goat paddock.

Until then, Briar will have to live in her escape-proof pens and on a cable in the lamb paddock. She will not be a happy gorilla.  But the neighbor who called at 10:30 PM to inform me that Briar wouldn't let him into his house will. And so will the garbage man.

Sigh . . . life on a farm . . .

Every morning, after the livestock is fed, I try to take the dogs for a nice long walk. Often we walk in the lamb paddock that borders G'Ma's fence.  If she's awake, G'Ma will come outside bearing gifts for granddogs.

Everyone (except Lily the Titty Baby) rushes up the ramp to beg an egg.

 Some of us are a little pushier than others.

 "Pul-ease!  G'Ma! Pick me! Another for me!!!"

And that . . . is how this happens.

"I got egged!"  

In an effort to be fair and make sure everyone gets their share, G'Ma tosses eggs to each granddog. Sometimes eggs are stolen. Sometimes people get hit with an egg not intended for them.

 But everyone enjoys a visit from G'Ma. 

Some of us just enjoy it a bit more than others.

 "More please, G'Ma!  More please!"

I picked up the new ram this week.  His name is "AL," and he's a registered white dorper.  I LOVE the babies he puts on the ground.

While I was there, I couldn't resist this little girl, so she came home with me too.

I named her "Snip."

Briar met Snip yesterday. I was amazed at how quickly the dog singled out the one new sheep in her flock. She bounded through the pasture to introduce herself.

But she was just a wee too fast for young Snip.

  "EEEEEEKKKKK!"

Briar immediately checked herself, but first impressions are important and Snip had already decided this was one Big White Dawg that she didn't want to meet. Thus began the stalking.  Like a stalker in the grocery store, Briar walked at a distance behind her new sheep.

Eventually she was satisfied that she'd gotten a good sniff of her new charge, so I put her in the ram pen to meet her other new responsibility.

Fortunately she had learned from her first experience and didn't barrel over there like a kindergartener at an ice cream party. Instead, she eased over to her new ram, like Joe Cool, and . . .

 he ignored her.

So she was able to satisfy her curiosity pretty quickly, thus reinforcing the Prime Directive - "Thou shalt not scare the sheep."

tHiS wEEk wE weNt 2 tHa pAtRiK sHaNnaHan cLiniC.

wHiLe tHa bIg dAwGz werKd, i hAd 2 sIt oN tHa fEnce.

sOmeTImez iT wuz bOrIng bUt iT wuz beTTr thaN tHa crAte.

cEnts oTheR puPPees wEr werKing, mOm LeT mE werK 2!

mY pRaYerZ wEr fInaLLy aNsWrd!

pAtRiK dId tHa sTeeRin N mOm wAtcHd. hE tOLd mOm i wUz a nIcE pUp n sEd i wUz reDDy 4 LeSSoNz! tHe sHeeP gOddEz whO hAd tHa sHeeP sEd i coULd sTarT werKn 1 tIme a wEEk aFter LiLyz LeSSoNz!

tHanK eWe, LOrd!

They grow up so fast . . .

Lily has another herding clinic with Patrick Shannahan this week. Today I took Trace along with her JUST FOR SOCIALIZATION!

When Lily wasn't working Trace came out to watch the other dogs work. (as if he needed any help feeding his obsession.) This afternoon Patrick worked puppies.

 "HEY! I'm a puppy!"

And as I watched him staring through the bars at puppies his age playing with sheep, I decided that maybe, just maybe, I could sacrifice one of Lily's spots tomorrow to let Trace work for the very first time in his little life.  (Since Patrick will be at the helm, I can't screw him up!) 

It should be an exciting day. . .

Woman Logic 101 -

Woman sees hideously beautiful boots. (Ugly but beautiful in an Ed Hardy sort of way)
Woman wants Hideously Beautiful Boots.
Woman convinces herself that Hideously Beautiful Boots are completely impractive and thus resists temptation.
Woman sees Hideously Beautiful Boots EVERY time she goes to ANY Western Wear store.
Woman resists Hideously Beautiful Boots EACH time.
Woman is informed by Lover/Husband-Creature that he wishes to get married in blue jeans. (ooo-kay)
Woman FINALLY has a rational excuse for purchase of Hideously Beautiful Boots.
Woman & Husband-creature go to Western Wear store for boots that are not stained with horse/cow/sheep poop
Woman cannot find Hideously Beautiful Boots.  (what??!#!)
Woman is sad, but settles for Acceptable Boots.
Woman searches for Blingy Blue Jeans that she has also found completely impractical and refused to purchase in the past. 
Woman cannot find Blingy Blue Jeans in her size.  (too big/too small/too short/too tall)
Woman calls Dear Friend and arranges Girls' Shopping Adventure.
Woman & Dear Friend begin adventure to find blue jeans for both of them and boots for Dear Friend.
Woman cannot find Bling Blue Jeans in her size.  (too big/too small/too short/too tall)
Woman settles for "tried and true" Boring Blue Jeans.
Woman is bummed.
Woman walks around the corner and runs right smack into Hideously Beautiful Boots!  - IN HER SIZE!
Woman decides this is a Sign From Heaven (Woman hears Angels singing!)
Woman calls Husband-creature to inform him that she is purchasing Hideously Beautiful Boots (that she is certain he will hate) despite the fact that she already purchased a pair of Perfectly Acceptable Boots that he loves.
Woman mentally calculates cost of a "normal wedding."
Woman closes eyes and throws credit card at cashier.

And THAT's how these Hideously Beautiful Boots (that will NEVER step in horse/cow/sheep poop) came to be in my closet!

Are they not delightfully ugly yet, adorable?

Other Half took one look at them and groaned.  But since he's seen me linger over these boots MANY times before, he knew that he was powerless before the irresistible attraction of Hideously Beautiful Boots!

After years of living together, Other Half and I finally decided to make it legal. (Now all the dogs will have the same last name!) This decision however, has spawned a great deal of controversy. We are, at heart, boring people. This is not the first time around for either of us, and well duh, we've been living together for years, so this isn't a big surprise to anyone either. Not much changes around here except a name tag on my work uniform.

We are quiet people. We are "just us and the preacher" kind of people.  Our friends are not.  Our friends are "rent a ballroom," "book the fairgrounds," "have a big shin-ding" kind of people.  (some of them)  And . . .  we know A LOT of people.

So there's that - we're about to upset folks who're gearing up for a big party.  Not only are we not real "party people," but do you know how many cattle panels and fence posts you could buy for the price of one hotel ballroom?  (I'm just sayin'.)

Then there was the date - when do we both have a large block of time?  We don't.  We thought we'd found a week, but then we realized that I have a Death Investigators class, and Grandbaby #2 is due!  Scratch going out of town then. 

So I sat at work last week, pouring over the calendar, when it hit me.  We aren't party people, but we are stock people.  What's the one giant month-long party that hits this cow town every year?  The Livestock Show & Rodeo!!!  We generally take off a few days and spend marathon amounts of time up there anyway. In fact, it's one of our FAVORITE things to do!

So I got to figuring . . .   Why, pray tell, do we have to go out of town when the fun is right here?!!

I found a weekend that we already had booked for the livestock show. Theoretically we could get hitched in a private morning ceremony, go to the sheepdog trial at noon, go home to feed the livestock, and return in the evening for the Cowboy Mounted Shooting!  Our party-loving friends can meet us there at their convenience, and we can eat turkey legs, barbecue, and funnel cakes until we're all green!  Sounded good to me!  I whirled it past other Half and he allowed as how this was an EXCELLENT idea!  (We did decide that we may have to bring our own wedding cake though!)

Yes, it's non-traditional, but so are we. It solves all the problems.  We're never far from the farms. We can accomodate as many folks as the grandstand at the sheepdog trial will hold, the cost is minimal, and we're not far from the hospital if Daughter goes into labor!

Next problem - what to wear?

A wedding dress at a livestock show is out.  Duh! Plus, I'm not paying that kind of money for a dress for one day.  Been there, done that, and this time, I'm the one having to pay the bill . . .  (I'm just sayin'.)

So I envisioned a really nice, long cowgirl skirt with a petticoat (that just so happens to be hanging in my closet right now.)  Unfortunately Other Half nixed that.

"Blue jeans."

"Do what? You want to get married in blue jeans?"

"Uh huh."

"Don't you want me to look nice?!!!!"

"You look fine in blue jeans."   (Yeah, gotta love that man.)

So although it did not fit my mental picture of wedding attire, today we went shopping for the kind of outfit you could get hitched in, wear to a livestock show, go home and feed your own stock, and then return for evening festivities involving horses and handguns. 

And he's right . . . somehow planning a wedding is a lot more fun when you cut out the expectations of others and just do what you want to do. 

The Ring -

Note how it is flat so I can wear it at work under latex gloves and on the farm under leather gloves! Other Half takes ALL the credit for picking out this puppy! 

And this country girl likes it a lot!