Farm Fresh Blog

Look closely.

Before we go any further, let me point out that this is the same lamb who got so stuck under the wheel well of a truck that we had to jack up the truck to free her.  That said, it wasn't a big surprise to look through the living room window and see a lamb out of the sheep enclosure and into the round pen of hay.  What I didn't realize was that she was stuck again - mentally at least.

This lamb is dumb as a box of rocks. Apparently she had climbed on top of the hay and couldn't figure out how to get down.  When I moved the rest of the sheep into the yard to graze this ewe lamb just bawled and bawled - and no one even bothered to look back as they left her.  Such is the nature of sheep.

This is why the world needs Big White Dogs.  

I give you Exhibit A:   

This creature gets herself into situations and screams her head off, calling every coyote and bobcat in three counties. Without Briar this airhead would be coyote bait.

And since I didn't want to listen to her scream all afternoon, I drove out there and tried to get her down myself.  But alas, no luck. She was not coming down. Apparently being abandoned by the rest of the flock was not enough of an incentive.

And so it was that I drove back to the house and got my secret weapon - who had been watching through the living room window.

It is amazing how persuasive a Border Collie can be in these situations. . .

I wish I had pictures of this lamb 'leapfrogging' across bales of hay to her hasty exit as Lily stalked across the hay. Unfortunately it happened so quickly I couldn't get the camera focused.  (This happens with Border Collies.)

And just like that, quick as a flash, she had the lamb off the hay and into the yard where she joined everyone else who had been ignoring her screams, and Briar . . .

 . . . who keeps idiotic sheep safe from the Boogy Beast!

Up at 5 am to cut soap into bars - peaceful fragrant work that doesn't smell like animal poop or decomposing bodies. This is most definitely one of my most pleasant chores!

In the country, when a friend invites you to help her move, it goes without saying that your horse is invited too.  Since we couldn't trail ride today, we just went "fieldtripping."  Joe grazed all day with one of her horses while we packed and hauled.  Somehow even the process of moving isn't so bad when the company is good and you get to bring your pony . . .

I got home from my Week-Long-Out-Of-Town-Crime-Scene-Class just in time for Other Half to pass the baton to me as he raced out the driveway to work.  I had just dropped "some" of my gear in the house and was out back with the dogs when I hear a giant crash in the side yard.

Yes, true to form, drama follows us - a tree had crashed to the earth, bringing down a power line with it.  Welcome home.

It was now dark. Other Half was gone. I don't know how to work a chain saw, AND the line was still hot.  I had yet to finish unloading the car.  My cell phone was dead. The home phone went dead as I called Other Half. At first I stood in the dark and just whimpered, then I decided that this too, was a blessing. (It's all about how you decide to view things!)

Yes, the tree had come crashing down, bringing down a power line, BUT no one was hurt. The neighbors' fence was intact. It smacked down inches from our water well, but it was fine too. Our dogs normally fence fight with the neighbor's cow dogs in THAT very spot, but everyone was in the back with me when the tree came down. AND wonder of wonders, the electricity was STILL on! Okay, it was flickering a bit, but it was still working. 

Fortunately Other Half had gathered enough from our conversation to call a friend of his who worked at the power company. Within an hour the man was at my front gate, (apologizing for the wait!) Within two hours the line was back up and the power company was cheerfully trimming more trees to avoid a future incident.  Apparently men LIKE playing with chain saws while standing in buckets way above the ground.

By that time my cell phone was back in business, and I had some new friends in the power company.  (God bless Country People!)

This morning I was faced with a daunting clean-up task.  The downed tree was covered in poison ivy.  

No problem!  I've got great Hired Help!

   5 hours later! 

By tomorrow all the poison ivy should be gone and all that's left will be to hook up the pieces to the jeep and drag them into the pasture.  Welcome home . . .

     From time to time I run across people that restore my faith in humanity. Such was the case this weekend. Other Half and I were driving home from the north ranch when we discovered there were no running lights on the horse trailer, and the sun was going down. Although we hustled to a trailer company along our route, we arrived just in time to see them closing up and driving out of the parking lot. Never one to take "no" at face value, Other Half pulled into the lot anyway. Wonder of wonders, they stopped. They came back. 

They peeked at the trailer and then called their electrician BACK IN from home!  And while I stood in the parking lot with four dogs on leashes (not a real picnic there!) they fixed the lights on the trailer so we could get back on the road. Then the most remarkable thing happened . . .

. . .  They refused payment.  This company had remained opened, called someone in after hours, and yet, they still refused to accept payment for a simple fix.

Wow. They have just earned themselves lifetime customers. Stephenville Trailers, in Stephenville, TX, sells horse trailers, truck beds, Ranch Hand bumpers, and all manner of stuff for the rancher. If you live in Texas any where near that area, and are looking for an honest vender, I heartily recommend these people.

Stephenville Trailers is located in the heart of Horse Country. Until that evening we had never been customers of Stephenville Trailers. We'd just passed them on the highway. Through their integrity and work ethics, they have now earned all our business. If you're anywhere close to Stephenville, try 'em. If you own your own business, take note. That extra thirty minutes after closing time 'could' be the most important advertising you do!

The beauty of our new ranch is that every day there is a new adventure, ripe with new discoveries.  This weekend Dillon found  a most "wonderful round thing" while on a walk. He was immediately the envy of everyone else.  When I first saw this "thing" I thought Dillon had found an oversized tennis ball. This intrigued me because the ranch is remote and not the place one would expect to find a dog toy just hanging around.

Here Ranger checks out the curious thing.

Dillon brought it home and everyone played with "the thing" to the point where I had to hide it so it was relatively intact when I had local friends identify this curiosity.

My friend, Kim, identified the oddity as a "bois d'art" or "horse-apple" and we drove off on the 4wheeler to find the tree. Then I came home to google the thing. I found lots of interesting stuff about it, but the most interesting (to ME!) was its use as an insect repellant similar to DEET.  Really? Hmmm . . . I wish I had brought home this wonderful round thing so I could test this theory. You can bet your Grandma's best cast-iron skillet that I'll be putting one of these curious round things under the bed the next time I go to the ranch!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maclura_pomifera

We took the boys to the north ranch this weekend - in the rain.

Palo Pinto Painted Pony in the rain

 One of us was a happy camper.

One of us was not . . .

 "Can we go home now?"

Poor Musket was on his first camping trip and he was not happy. I woke up the first morning to find him standing beside the gate, begging me to come get him. 

He was covered in biting black flies, soaking wet, and had cactus thorns in his nose.  He was pitiful. I woke up Other Half, and we pulled the cactus out of his nose, put on some fly spray, and put oats in his belly.

 His day was looking up.

 They discovered the pecan trees gave nice shelter, and on Day 3 the sun came out.

On that day, I woke up early and saddled Joe. Other Half was still asleep, so I took a walkie talkie and tossed another one in bed with him. Then I climbed on Joe and off we went down the trail.

He was pretty scared at first. The forest has eyes out there and Joe knew it. He stalled out a few times, certain he would be cougar bait if he kept going. I kept humming a little tune and eventually he would sigh and head a little further through the woods. On the way back I noted that in the places were he stalled out there were hog and deer tracks in the road that had not been there before. Joe was being watched.

Our return trip was much faster but uneventful. I was elated. We DID it!

Other Half was less than enthusiastic about our trip.  Apparently I had forgotten to turn on my walkie talkie.  (Ma bad!) I had ridden off to parts unknown on an unfamiliar horse without a gun and without turning on my radio.  (not my finest hour)

Nevertheless, I was still elated. I had trusted Joe, and he had trusted me. (or got tired of my singing and just gave up)  So for a little while, I had forgotten all the ugliness and violence in this world. I was just a little girl on a pony.  And it felt good.

 Painted Pony & Prickly Pears

  Poor Joe is having some problems fitting in.  He is a gentle soul, so I put him in the roping arena with Musket. Since Musket gets picked on by the other horses, I thought they might make good roommates. 

Unfortunately after a one day honeymoon, I came home from work to find that Musket had beat up poor Joe.  I had one paint horse with kicks and bites all over him, and one roan horse with not so much as a scratch.  Eviction time! 

So I until Joe can get assimilated into the herd, he can stay alone in the arena or with the sheep. 

 This worked out until the goats discovered Joe had hay.  Yes, the idiots who have so much hay in their pen that they turn their noses up at it, decided that when turned loose in the yard with a horse, they simply MUST eat his hay.  They swarmed over Joe's breakfast hay like gypsies in the palace!

Easygoing Joe just ambled off and returned after the gypsies had left. He's such a sweetie. 

This afternoon when I left for work, Joe said that instead of staying alone, he wanted to go out with the sheep. Okie dokie. So I opened the gate to let him in with the sheep and goats. And that's about the time Briar turned into a monster and informed poor Joe that he was "NOT a part of the flock!"

(clearly someone has failed to inform Briar that SHE'S a dog and not part of the flock either. I'm just sayin'.) 

         Poor Joe!

It's rough being the New Kid On The Block.

Did you ever see a stranger across a room and swear you'd met before? Did you ever meet someone for the first time and get an immediate sense of familiarity? A connection. You can't explain it, you just trust in it.

And so it was last Sunday afternoon when I was dropping off a soap delivery to an old friend.  I glanced in her back yard and saw this:

Like a cartoon character, my heart leaped out of my body. Who was this horse?

I stopped in my tracks and asked her about the horse next door.  She told me he belonged to her brother who'd purchased the horse for his 5 year old daughter and rarely ever rode him. 

"He's a push-button horse, but he's just wasting away there. I've hopped on him bareback and he's PUSH-BUTTON."

I was intrigued. "Take me to meet this horse."

And so we walked to the pasture. He immediately came up to greet me.  She remarked that he is normally polite but distant and was surprised he was so friendly.  I was more intrigured.  There was "something" about this horse.

I've learned to trust those "somethings" and so I asked if the horse was for sale.  She allowed as how he wasn't on the market, but her brother had recently tossed around the idea since the horse wasn't really being ridden. So I made a date to test drive him the following Sunday.

I went home, but couldn't get the horse out of my head. He was perfect for me.  Short enough to easily mount,  (unlike OTHER members of the family)

and calm as a cucumber. (Unlike OTHER members of the family)

 "Who?"

I've spent a good bit of my life riding hot horses, but I'm 49 years old now. Now, I want short and calm. (But OTHER members of the family will ALWAYS remain members of the family!)

In the middle of the week I took Other Half to see this paint horse. He was unimpressed. He likes his horses big. Big ranch gelding are more his speed. This guy looked more like a mustang off the plains. But I was undaunted. There was "something" about this horse.

At first I thought he was a 'medicine hat' paint since he appeared to have the distinct "hat" and a front "shield" that made these horses so prized by the plains Indians. They believed the horses possessed special powers that would protect the rider from harm.

Closer inspection revealed that he wasn't a true medicine hat because the "hat" was just a bit off over his left ear.  He has parti-colored blue eyes.

Nevertheless, there was still something about this horse that I just couldn't get out of my head.  He just seemed to be the Painted Pony I had spent my entire life searching for. So two days later I dropped in to visit him. Once again, he happily walked up to greet me. This time I gave him a cookie. We were now BFFs.  

  "Best Friends Forever"

So Sunday rolled around and I waited for reality to smack me in the face. My friend reported that he'd been hard to catch in the pasture. Yet once again he happily greeted me like we knew each other. Once again, she thought this was odd. By then, I'd decided that perhaps the horse felt the same thing about me - something familiar, something comfortable.

He was easy to handle on the ground. Loaded into the horse trailer like a champ. Unloaded like a gentleman. Although he hadn't been ridden in months, he acted like he'd been ridden yesterday. 

 There was nothing not to like about this horse. I hopped on him bareback and felt like I'd ridden him for years.

And so it was that I listened to that little voice and bought him. His current name is Little Joe, but as my friend said, "It's not like he answers to it."

She said that since he looks like an Indian pony, he needs an Indian name. If something comes up we'll see, otherwise, I guess we'll just call him, "Joe."

Other Half and I made a quick trip overnight trip out of town, leaving most of the dogs at the house either in the yard, or in outside kennel runs.

Most, not all:

Too much trouble

Too Precious

While everyone else stayed at home where Son could come by and care for them. Too Much Trouble went to a professional kennel and Too Precious stayed with her grandma!

This is because she is a Little Princess who does not stay in a concrete kennel and loose in a fenced yard was out of the question. Certain members of the family are not only too precious, they are smart and uppity and may be "voted off the island" by other dogs, thus, for her safety and my peace of mind, she went to stay with my mother overnight.

Now Lily knows my mother quite well. My old farm was right next door to my mom's house, and Lily grew up there. 

When she was little, my mom would babysit Lily while I was at work. That, apparently is not enough, for a determined Border Collie who has been abandoned, left in loving hands while her mom goes on an overnighter.  Less than 4 hours later my mother called to report that Lily had escaped three times!

 "Lassie Come Home!"

It would appear that while she was happy to see G'ma and enjoyed her company, Miss Lily firmly believed that a Border Collie's place is with her mom and so Lily headed out in search of me.  Poor Lil was convinced that if she could just get to her OLD home (next door) that she could find me.  There are several reasons why this was a bad idea:

a) I was not there.
b) The new family had removed both doggy doors.
c) The new family had two small children.
d) Small children like Lily. Lily is afraid of small children.
e) If left alone long enough to determine that I was NOT next door, Lily may then decide to hit the road in search of her OTHER home.

One can easily understand why my mother was concerned. Pit one clever Senior Citizen against one clever Border Collie and that must be reality television at its finest. For instance, I would have paid good money to watch this:

My mother has a doggy door so that her own dog can let himself into the yard to pee instead of using the dining room floor. Because Lily grew up with doggy doors, this was an express lane to the back yard and freedom.  Apparently she had sneaked out of the house twice and so my mother decided that she would plug any tiny holes in her back yard to prevent our Canine Einstein from escaping. Lily watched all this from the porch.

Mom then went into the house and watched from the window as Lily inspected each newly plugged gap. Then, much to my mother's dismay, she hoisted her tiny ass over the fence like a gazelle and headed back to her Old House.

Thus it became apparent that unless her outdoor time was supervised, Lily would leave any time she pleased in search of her mom.

This is the same dog who, even if she is already outside, will sit beside the back door waiting for me to go with her before she will "do her business."  While she has none of the annoying destructive separation anxiety issues, Homegirl is most definitely a titty-baby dog who has watched too many Lassie Re-runs. Since she was 6 weeks old, Lily has only spent 2 nights away from me.

Ironically, when I went to retrieve her this morning, although she was happy to see me, she blasted past me to greet Other Half, and then came back inside to play like she had been on vacation and daycare was the most wonderful place in the world. 

Afterwards we went to The Kennel to pick up Oli. As we pulled up an alarm of barking dogs sounded. Lily was quite interested in such chaos and leaped to the front seat to get a better view. Other Half asked her,

"What's THAT, Gator?"

To which Lily replied, "Those are doggies who don't have grandmas!"