Farm Fresh Blog

Puppies will be puppies, and Briar is no different.  Her problem however, is that she is caught between two worlds.  She is a sheep, and she is a dog.  Sheep don't have needle-sharp teeth. Sheep don't wrestle.  Dogs do.  Puppies have to.  So on Saturday while I was selling goats and didn't have time to watch her, little Briar wrestled with a lamb and bloodied up his ears.  She was playing.  She was having fun.  He was not.  I pulled her out of the pasture and let her beat up on Blue Heeler for a while.  He is tougher than Hulk the lamb.  Blue Heeler can take the abuse.

Then I got sick, so yesterday I didn't feel like standing in the cold with Briar to supervise her sheep activities, therefore, she spent the night with the sheep, but in an exercise pen so they were safe from a bored pup.  So this morning, armed with a frappuccino, Briar, the sheep, and I headed for the pasture.

Briar was full of energy. She was like a little cinder block on meth!  Happy, happy, happy puppy!

She zoomed.  Well, she's a little big for zooming.  It was more like boucing and lumbering. She chased birds.  She chased chickens. (and got a bucket tossed at her) She chewed on sticks.  Then . . . she decided to play with her lamb buddies.

  And we are bowling for sheep!

   Mom screams, "NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooo!"

  Briar drops to the ground.  "I'm bad?"

  "Awww man . . . I'm bad!"

She looked so pitiful.  She even closed her little eyes as I screamed at her.

"Awww man!  I wasn't gonna hurt 'em.  They're my friends!"

The sheep settled down.  They're not really scared of her anyway.  That's the really scary part.  They completely trust her.  The biggest, meanest ewe actually watched Briar bloody up her lamb on Saturday and gave no indication that it was happening.  Her attitude seemed to be, "Well it's Little Briar, I'm sure everything will be just fine." The ewes have completely forgotten that Briar is still a predator - a baby predator, but still a predator.

The problem was that no one has actually informed Briar that she cannot play this rough with the lambs.  They break easily. She was really upset that she got in trouble.  I chewed her out.  Then I let her up.  She ran over to sniff butts and make friends again.  

That lesson should last until she is bored again - about 5 minutes.  It's going to be a long 2 years until she grows up enough to trust her with them.  But she is trying, and that is really all we can ask.

After I sold goats yesterday I went to feed the cows.  This is what greeted me.

That is NOT bubble gum hanging out of the back of that cow.  Her name is Snickers.  She used to be a show cow. The little girl who showed her asked about her at the fair this year.  I REALLY don't wanna have to tell that child next year that her cow died giving birth.  The Rancher Neighbor had already called Other Half to inform him that the cow was in labor.  The neighbor on the other side of the property had already called Other Half to inform him that the cow was in labor and the calf was probably dead.  Oh joy. 

So I met with Kindly Rancher Neighbor who is my Rock when Other Half is out of town. He came over the fence.  His Blue Heeler, Deuce, crawled through the fence.  Snickers tried to run Deuce down.  Deuce ran to hide behind Rancher.  I had to laugh as Man Who Always Has Everything Together informed his dog, "Don't hide behind ME!!!" as a large, enraged black cow chased the dog. Deuce was evicted, but Snickers was not in the mood to be caught, so there wasn't much we could do. We had to wait until she got tired enough to let us catch her and pull the calf. Kindly Rancher Neighbor went home.

  We agreed to watch her and try it again in an hour.

I kept checking, but then I got on the phone with Vet's Wife to discuss The Enforcer, kidney failure, and selling goats. Thirty minutes later I looked out the window to find Kindly Rancher Neighbor propped against the fence, looking at this.

According to him I missed it by 5 minutes.  He had to pull the sack off her nose so she could breathe, but otherwise, his help was not needed.  Snickers had her first baby on her own, just fine thank you very much. No humans NEEDED! (I like cows like that!)

Snickers is a good mother.  This morning when I went to feed, the Wal-Mart Shoppers Mob knocked her calf over in the mud.  (I was almost hysterical as I watched this precious mocha baby get trampled!) Snickers, who is a sizable girl herself (she is a plus-size, full-figured broad!) saw red and rushed to rescue her baby.  Then she led little Miss Mocha away from the herd.  I finished filling the feeders.  While the Mob settled down to eat, Snickers checked her baby.  I sat on the 4Wheeler and cried. (I am a big help!)

The baby seemed to be okay. (good, because I have NO idea how I would be able to help her if her momma didn't cooperate.)  All I could do was drive off and get another bale of hay for Snickers.  The baby settled down beside her as Snickers munched.  She regularly reached over to sniff little Miss Mocha to make sure she was still okay.  

Snickers still has not passed the afterbirth.  It was hanging down to her ankles.  I was a bit worried so I stopped by Neighbor's ranch to beg for help.  (a woman left in charge of two farms full of cows, goats, sheep, horses, and a dog dying of renal failure is just one drama away from completely losing her mind . . .) I desperately needed to know that I wasn't wallowing in the mud alone and the cows would be just fine.

Kindly Rancher Neighbor wasn't at home, but luckily his dad was there fixing a tractor.  His DAD!  This dude knows LOTS about cows!  So we talked.  He assured me that Snickers and Mocha would be just fine. He would check on them.  Kindly Rancher Neighbor would also check on them for me. Thank God! I'm not alone! Help is just one farm away. 

And that, ultimately, is what country living is all about.  No man is an island unto himself.  We all need good neighbors and we need to be good neighbors.

Here is my Valentine!

  He is in deep thought about land and leases and doesn't know I am taking his picture.  Other Half is rather elusive when you have a camera pointed at him.  At the moment, he is up to his butt in snow.  I had some snow pictures of he and Oli that I FORCED him to have another agent take, but I can't get my blasted computer to recognize them in the email that he sent, soooooo.... here is one from a couple of months ago. 

We aren't getting to spend Valentine's Day together, but we are spending quite a bit of time on the phone this morning because I'm selling goats today. 

The conversations have gone something like this:

"I have 10 different people who want to buy goats, but I think most of them actually want to EAT my goats and the other half are just TELLING me that they want breeding goats but they are secretly going to EAT my goats too."

There is a long silence.  Then he says, "This is a business, sell the goats to anyone who pays cash. Don't let them negotiate. No deals. Full price for everyone. That guy who wants a deal on all of them is only trying to take advantage of you because you're a woman. Stand your ground. Full price for everyone."

(I secretly want to let them go cheaply to anyone who will hug them and feed them and ruffle their ears. He knows this.)

The first lady on the list lived 30 minutes away.  She said she was en route NOW!  The second guy on the list tried to buy them ALL over the phone.  I told him another lady had first dibs because she called first. She didn't want all of them.  He pushed harder, informing me that I could save myself lots of headaches by just selling everything to him. Nope.  The other lady was promised that if she got here first, she'd have first pick.  The third guy wanted to buy everything but wanted a package deal.  Huh?  He was #3 out of 10 people who wanted those goats. 

First lady arrives.  She has a stock trailer in tow.  Hmmmm . . . serious buyer.  She and Husband expertly select the best of the crop.  I am saddened to see Bubbles go, but know that she is one of the best and I don't "think" this lady is actually planning on eating these goats. They have a good eye for goats.  Pays cash and drives off happy.

Second man arrives - in a mini-van!  He snatches up remaining goats.  I ask him where he plans on putting them. 

"In the van."

Friends and Neighbors, I would have paid money to videotape that.  I sorely wished I had my camera, but decided that was the epitome of "unprofessional" and since for today, without Other Half in town, I was pretending to be the Rancher in the family. So I resisted the urge to run into the house and grab up the Canon.  Instead, I helped him catch and load goats. 

Here are the photos I didn't take that I sooooo wanted to share with you:

#1 - Otis in the driver's seat

#2 - Goat in front passenger's seat staring at me through rear-view mirror

#3 - Goat leaping from Mini-van when door was opened to remove said goat from driver's seat.

#4 - Goats staring at me through rear window of Nissan Quest.

#5 - Otis sleeping under steering wheel.

#6 - Children happily holding goats in back seat.  (They are not going to be any happier than I am if their dad butchers those goats.) 

So now I have money in my pocket and far fewer goats.  I'm a bit sad.  I don't want them eaten.  I know, they're goats.  Goats are born to be eaten, but still, I'm fond of some of them.  Other Half pointed out that if the coyotes ate them, they wouldn't pay for them first. Point well taken.

Briar is in BIG TROUBLE.  She was evicted from the sheep pasture this morning.  While I was busy selling goats, Miss Briar was busy messing with Hulk, the ram lamb we want to keep.  Now Hulk has bloody ears.  Briar is about to be thrown back into the x-pen when not supervised.  She is clearly still too young.  Her lamb buddies are just not as tough as other puppies. They break . . . And tear. And Mom gets pissed.

Do you know what THIS is?

No?  Here's another spot.  Take a closer look.

THIS is coyote hair caught on MY fence.  The first one is the fence on the South side of the back pasture.  The second one is the fence on the North side of the back pasture.  Coyotes are coming along the canal on the south side and using my property as a Superhighway to get to my neighbor's pasture.  They are eating his Barbado sheep.  He is officially "out" of the sheep business as of this week. 

The guy only had a ewe and a ram.  They were just stuck out behind his house.  No protection. A baby was born.  It survived for a while and then it was eaten.  This week they got bold enough to take his ewe.  He just gave the ram away before the coyotes ate him too.

It is cold. They are desperate.  Not much stands between these hungry coyotes and my little group of baa-baa-baas.

Not much, except this:

It's a very thin Blue Line.

The sheep are moved into the barn each night.  Briar is with them all night, but we do not expect her to provide much protection yet.  She is little. They are many. I am considering the idea that she needs another dog for back-up.  By next winter, she will be a forminable opponent, but she is still just one dog against desperate coyotes. It may be time to start looking for another puppy.  Other Half is gonna defecate a brick when I tell him that. But he isn't home right now, and he isn't looking at the empty pasture next door.

In weather like this, feeding cows is the least pleasant chore on the farm. This is because it requires a 4Wheeler to slog through the mud to carry hay and an 80/20 mix of cottonseed meal to very, hungry cows who mob you like Christmas shoppers the day after Thanksgiving. I normally like to have Blue Heeler with me when I do this to keep the cows off me, but then I end up with a wet, muddy dog too, so lately I've just braved the mob alone. 

It's not ALL mud out there, it's just a sloshy, mud-pit by the gate and near the feeders. Because I feel sorry for the cows, I have lobbied (successfully!) for a new pole barn out there where the cows with calves can get in out of the winter weather. Unfortunately we will have to wait until next summer to build the darned thing. So . . .  the cows and I will just have to endure the mud for another winter.

Yesterday was a typical morning of feeding cows:

A cold, steady rain is falling. The cowponies hear the chain on the gate.  Mean Cowpony has taken the only open lean-to stall and pushed his buddy, Sweet Mustang Cowpony, out in the rain.  While he is dry and warm, Sweet Mustang Cowpony is standing as close to the porch as possible to stay dry.  His head is dry.  The rest of him is soaked.  I go into barn to start 4Wheeler.  Didn't cover it with a tarp and now the chickens have pooped all over it. Note that Other Half will have a fit if he sees that. Coax machine to life in the cold.  Load it with hay and move it to barn door.  Sweet Mustang carefully squeezes through barn door to pass 4Wheeler and stand by his warm, dry stall.  Move 4wheeler outside.  Still raining. Go back inside and let Sweet Mustang into his stall. Mean Cowpony comes out of lean-to to raid 4Wheeler. Slings hay off 4Wheeler into mud. I grab rake and run out of barn while screaming like a Fishmonger's Wife. Horse is mildly impressed and trots away from hay.  Does he go into his nice warm stall?  NO!  He dances around me like a soccer player to come back to hay.  Consider throwing rake at him.  Scream things at him in a language used only by police officers and sailors. (my Grandmother would be so ashamed of me!)  Horse finally meanders into barn. Feed horses.

Still raining.  Load 80/20 cottonseed meal onto 4Wheeler. Re-load hay.  Putt-putt out to cows and calves in roping arena. They gather at gate like Wal-Mart shoppers on Black Friday. Stop at gate. 4Wheeler makes a wake in the 8" deep water at gate. Grab chute panel beside gate to help steady myself as I climb off 4Wheeler which has now become a ship in muddy waters. Accidentally hit gas pedal on handlebar with my glove.  4Wheeler shoots out from underneath me and slams into gate.  Cows jump back.  I fall in mud. More cussing. Thank God that at least I was hanging onto chute panel and didn't fall face first in mud.

Climb back on 4Wheeler.  Put that Bad-Boy in Neutral!  Climb back off 4Wheeler. (carefully this time!) Open gate.  Cows are watching with great interest.  Not only is there the promise of food, but it is a Dinner Theater!  They can get a comedy show with their meal. Perhaps the Human will fall off the Machine again!  Wise Cow informs the rest of them that this is only funny if Human falls off Machine when Machine Filled with Food is INSIDE the arena.  Not funny if food is still outside.  Other cows bow to this wisdom.

Another calf was born.  This is a little bull calf.  He is cold and wet and shivering violently but seems to otherwise be healthy.  We have GOT to get a pole barn up for these new calves! Calf that was born in the cold rain last week is motoring around pasture and quite pleased with herself.  She has mastered the art of moving in the mud and showing everyone how fast she can run.  At least someone is having fun. Since birth she has known no other world than cold and wet, so she accepts it with good humor.  Looks like she will survive.

Unload feed as cows are pulling it off the 4Wheeler.  Finally get all the feeders filled. Little Bull Calf has wandered away from his mama and is headed for opened arena gate.  WHY???  He sees me coming at him and sloshes through mud faster as he heads toward open gate.  Again - WHY??!!!  Move out at an angle to close gate before he can reach it. I make it to gate before he does.  (HAHAHAHA!)  Almost fall in mud closing gate.  (He gets to say, "HAHAHAHAHA!")

Stalk back to 4Wheeler.  The seat is wet.  Use an empty bag to cover seat.  It is wet too.  Damn.  I still have to go by feed store for dog food. My hair is soaked, my down jacket is soaked, my new leather gloves are soaked, my ass is soaked, my boots are covered in mud, and I STILL have to go out in public. Hose the mud off my boots and head to feed store.

Walk in feed store.  Girl Behind Counter does not look in the least bit surprised to see me looking like a muddy, drowned rat. (That's almost sad . . . ) She asks about Other Half.  I show her phone pictures of him playing in snow with New Police Dog.  He is playing in the snow.  I am stuck in the mud.  He owes me.  He owes me big. 

Oh, I almost forgot!  Underneath the wet leather gloves is a really cool Vogt silver horseshoe ring. So maybe he DOES know that feeding cows in the mud is a Major Headache.  Yep, he probably knows that already.

Woman Logic
 
Other Half has only been gone for over a week and a half. In addition to juggling work chores and farm chores, there have also been the emotional ups and downs of dealing with The Enforcer's kidney failure.  This has led to me being an occasional Cranky Pants Bitchy Bear. Some days are better than others.  This is an account of one of the "others."

Go to bed early because I am attending a mandatory class that starts at 8 AM. Wake up at 1 AM because The Enforcer is throwing up.  Clean it up and go back to bed.  Phone rings at 4 AM.  Other Half is calling to wake me up so I can do my chores before I leave the house at 6 AM. Although I am happy to hear his voice, I am MOST UNHAPPY that his voice means I have to get out of bed, tromp out in the cold, and feed the animals.

Walk through laundry room and remember that I put ALL the towels in the washing machine the night before. I FORGOT TO PUT THEM IN THE DRYER. It is 5:05 AM and there is not a dry towel in the house.   Oh joy.  Put towels in dryer. Decide that SOMEHOW Other Half must be responsible for this. This is Woman Logic.  If things go bad, somehow, some way, some man MUST be responsible for it. Since Other Half is not home, it is easy to blame him for EVERYTHING that goes wrong around here now.

Consider calling him at 5:07 AM just to wake him  up and inform him that he has ruined my day because I now have a boob smeared with cold chicken grease and NO dry towels.  Decide against it. I don't have the time.

Take shower. Dry off with hand towel. (Little hand towel + Big Butt = Pissed Off Woman)
Walk into bedroom. Old Police Dog has stepped in dog poop outside and tracked it through the doggy door,through the house and into the bedroom.  Oh joy, joy, thrill, thrill.  Clean up floor.  Clean up paws. Clean up dog bed. The Enforcer throws up again.  Clean that up too. Consider throwing up myself.  Consider calling Other Half to wake him up and tell him that this is ALL HIS FAULT for leaving me for 3 weeks.  Decide against it.  Don't have the time.

Gather purse and race out door. Wonder if I smell like dog poop. Step out back gate and stumble in a hole the size of a moon crater that Briar has dug. Turn ankle.  Cuss.  Consider calling Other Half to wake him up and tell him that this is ALL HIS FAULT for leaving me for 3 weeks.  It is 6:30 AM.  Decide against it.

Get in truck and head toward the Big City. All goes well until I reach The City Before The Big City.  That's when the tail lights ahead of me just stop. Surely this couldn't be happening.  There are tail lights as far as the eye can see.  Was there another hurricane evacuation that no one told me about???  Yes, that must be it.  There must be a hurricane in February and everyone in Texas is moving north to Oklahoma.  Oh joy. I was going to be late.
All "The Powers That Be" in Homicide will be in this class, and I am going to be walking in late. (yes, I AM in Homicide too, but I am not one of the Powers That Be.  I am one of the people who play Twister over Dead people.  We have no power.) An HOUR AND A HALF later, I slink into class like a whipped dog. No one notices or cares. (YES!!!!  God DOES love me!)  By 11 AM I am asleep.  How do these people actually work on day shift?

Make it through class and head back home. Call Dear Friend and chit-chat with her all the way home. Thank God she has AT&T too or we would both run out of phone minutes the first week of every month. Give her every agonizing detail of my life of juggling chores and trying to keep The Enforcer alive.  She reciprocates with details of her life and I feel better.   (You see! Women don't have to SOLVE each other's problems, they just have to LISTEN to them! Then everyone feels better - especially the men who DONT have to hear the women in their lives gripe in detail about their problems!)

Get home to find that I have a package.  A package???  A PACKAGE???  For me???  It is from Other Half.  He has sent me a precious card, a beautiful ring (the right size!), chocolate, perfume, and a PAIR OF LEATHER WORK GLOVES!!!  Wooo hooo!

He calls later and I happily gush about my package.  He gets excited."Did the gloves fit?" he asks. (Not "Did the ring fit?")

I point that out.  He laughs and informs me that the gloves are more important than the ring because they are WORK gloves and I NEED them to work on the farm. Hmmmm . . . Man Logic. While it is true that my other gloves have holes and I DID need new gloves, it still gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling to know that I have a new horsehoe ring under those leather work gloves. 

And THAT, friends and neighbors, is Woman Logic.

The Blue Heeler is the quintessential Texas Farm Dog.  No ranch in the Lone Star State is complete without one.  Our Blue Heeler is an excellent ranch dog.  Not only does he work cows, he is a good guard dog.

  Unless this is your dog, you don't really want to see this running at you.

But he has so many other uses:

   Holding down the ottoman.

  Border Collie Aerobics Partner

  Supervisor of coffee and do-nut breaks

His most unusual job has been instructor of the English as a Second Language Class for New Police Dog.  You will recall that she came to us speaking only Czech.  She needed some tutorials in English.  Blue Heeler proved to be the perfect ESL instructor.

  "Welcome to English as a Second Language Class!"

   The teacher tells the class to "stay" and walks off.

  "Hey!  Whut did she say????"

  "Shsshh!  Just do what I do!"

 "Yeah!  Yeah!  I can DO that!"

"See, English is easy.  Now we've gotta work on getting you a Texas accent!"

People ask me all the time how I get good shots of my critters.  The answer is easy, "Take a LOT of them!"  I have a Canon EOS Digital Rebel XT.  It's the same kind of camera that I use for work.  It takes great pictures but I also use to take great shots with my Kodak Easyshare too.  The camera is only half the equation.  The person BEHIND the camera is even more important.  Get a camera you are COMFORTABLE with and take it EVERYWHERE!  Trust me, mine goes everywhere with me.  I take lots and lots and lots of pictures.  Then I download them into my computer, edit them, and toss out a bunch.  Ultimately I'm left with a few good shots.  Digital photography is easy, fun, cheap, and keeps you off the streets.

Here are some shots I got when Blue Heeler and I were coming back from feeding the cows.  I had to edit his ears out of the pictures.

This hawk was just sitting there, minding his own business.  And then we came along.

  This is my one good shot. 

Then he noticed us and flew off.  I missed that shot because someone stuck his big blue head in the way!

   I wish this was in better focus, but it was a long way off.  The look on his face is priceless though.  He is just so offended!

"Freakin' paparazzi! Go away and get a life of your own!"

  This is Ice.  She is The Enforcer's sister.  Ice is concerned.  While The Enforcer seems to be doing better, he does still have bouts where he throws up.  Last night The Enforcer started throwing up again.  Over and over again.  Because he hates to be coddled, I lay in bed and waited for him to get finished before I got up.  (stone tile floors)  His sister became concerned and came to get me.  She put her front feet on the bed and said, "MOM!!!!  Kona is sick!  He needs some help!"

It was touching. 

There is an order to how things work on the farm.  It goes like this:

Feed livestock. Feed dogs. Feed me.  Because Briar spends all night with the sheep, I let her run and play with the dogs after breakfast because she wants to play rough games and the sheep do not.  She gets so enthralled with the lambs' games of chasing and mounting each other that she wants to play too.  This results in lots of running sheep.  Although she doesn't seem intent on harm, I don't want her running sheep.  Thus, I let the Border Collie and Blue Heeler get the zoom-zooms out of Briar before I deposit her tired little hiney back into the pasture. 

This morning there was a hitch in the plan.  Briar has learned to use the doggy door.  She went into the Laundry Room and stole a good long-sleeved white t-shirt.  Then she ran around the yard with my good shirt while her buddies chased her.  I happened to see a bright white shirt bouncing through the mud and became curious.  I called her.  She ran behind a rose bush with her prize.

Because it was muddy and I was sock-footed, I sent The Enforcer out in the mud to take the shirt away from her.  She growled at him.  Time just stopped.  The Earth stopped spinning.  The entire farm gasped.  Briar had growled at The Enforcer!  Was she crazy?  Cattle tremble at the mere sight of Blue Heeler, yet The Enforcer can glare at Blue Heeler and he pees on himself.  Who WAS this crazy woman who would GROWL at The Enforcer.  He stood over the puppy with the shirt in his mouth.  She wiggled her butt.  His eyebrows shot to the top of his head.  Rather than put her in the position where he would eat her, I called him back.  Then I put on my boots and tromped out in the mud myself.

"That's MY shirt!  Give it back!"

"Unhhh  uhhhhhhh!  Finders Keepers!!!"

I won.  She pouted.

It's about time to toss her back in the pasture with a bone. She is a delightful pup who is quite full of herself.  She is beginning to guard the pasture and it's quite comical to see her barking at something she believes is a threat. The sheep have totally accepted her now.  As soon as she grows up enough that she cannot fit through the squares in the cattle panels she will be able to be with them all the time.