Farm Fresh Blog

Briar's minions, Judge & Jury are promising to be fine Livestock Guardian Dogs. They stay with the dairy goats at night and each morning when the goats and sheep are released in the yard pasture to browse the boys walk with them. They follow the goats for a while, then they find a spot on the top of a hill to watch. Sometimes the sheep and goats split with some browsing uphill and some browsing in the thicket downhill. The puppies actually manage to pay attention to both groups. I pull out a chair and sit with them. As often happens, I get distracted with some chore and then panic when I cannot locate puppies. Invariably I find them either with the goats, or sleeping with Briar.

 Briar appears to be a reluctant tutor who reminds me of Tommy Lee Jones in "Men In Black." She is gruff and surly most of the time, but I note that she is actually paying close attention to the puppies. Yesterday one of the ewes took aim on a pup and began to run it down. Briar moved her hulking mass amazingly fast to deflect the ewe's attack on the youngster. The ewe stamped off in a huff and Briar led the pups away,

where they once more set up on a hill to provide security for ungrateful sheep.

 This ewe will always hold a special place in my heart. She wasn't a particularly beautiful sheep, but she had a beautiful heart, and I felt her loss deeply. One of the reasons why this little ewe stood out was because of her special friendship with Briar. While the other sheep ignored the giant pup, Roanie was her friend, and that friendship continued as Briar grew up and Roanie grew older.

And so it was that when Roanie died, leaving her little ram lamb an orphan, I never questioned whether or not we'd keep him. Checkers wasn't livestock, Checkers was family.

Roanie died when I was in South Texas and the flock was still with Dear Friends Kim & Clyde. Because Checkers had already been eating solid food, Dear Friend Clyde began pulling Checkers at meal time and feeding him separately to make sure he got his share of the groceries.

He even runs after Clyde and baaaas, and if he hears the 4 Wheeler he starts looking for Clyde. Mister Checkers has been elevated to the highest level of livestock - pet.

Like his mother, Checkers is something special. And like his mother, he has his own dog. Enter Andre.

Andre the Giant is a littermate of Judge & Jury. Dear Friend Kim picked up one puppy at the same time I picked up two puppies. Since little Andre (the Giant) was lonely without his littermates, he found a ready friend in an orphan lamb. Dear Friend Kim reported that these guys are pasture buddies.

Andre needed a friend, and so did Checkers, and they found each other. I soon realized it was in the best interest of both the lamb and the puppy to leave them together. As much as I wanted to keep a part of Roanie, when I see Checkers with Andre, I remember Roanie and Briar, and who am I to break up a friendship like that.

There are mountains, and then there are The Twin Peaks - Judge & Jury.

Jury has the wide blaze and freckles. Judge has the narrow blaze. Judge is more verbal and protective. Jury hangs tighter with the flock and kicks Judge's butt at meal time.  This cute little passive face transmogrifies into a beast toward his brother when food appears. He is so food aggressive the little snot must be fed separately so Judge doesn't get a complex.

They are adjusting quite well to life here, and the farm is slowly absorbing them into the fold. They were raised with goats, and thus, they prefer the goats to the sheep.

The goats are not as impressed.

The Boyz are already stepping up to the plate and making an attempt to protect their goats (whether they need it or not!) A few days ago the pups discovered the Barn Cats. They sent the cats packing a couple of times, but one cat simply refused to stay gone. She would get just outside their 'bubble' and then encroach again on the other side of the water tank, just to spy on them. This simply would not do. Jury was more about staying with the herd, but Judge made it his mission to push that cat away from the goats. Once the cat was outside his 'bubble', Judge would back off and return to the goats.

I thought it was cute, but what happened next really impressed me. Judge had repeatedly chased the cat away from the water tank. At this point the cat was simply lurking in the brush on the back side of the tank when one of the goats wandered too close to the cat for Judge's comfort. (This particular goat is one of the two that have been battling parasites so she's in pretty poor condition right now.)

As soon as the goat got too close to the cat, Judge began to talk and worry that goat until she returned to the rest of the herd. Then he came back with her. It was the cutest thing.

The goat was not impressed. She was quite annoyed, but the important thing was that Judge made a decision, acted on it, and the goat followed his instructions. Today it is a barn cat, but next week it could be a bobcat. I hope not. Judge isn't ready for the Big League yet; he is barely the size of a bobcat now.

Fortunately for Judge & Jury, Briar is on duty too.

Some days I feel like we are the Jews making the journey to the Promised Land because it seems we have wandered across Texas for 40 years instead of just the month of July. Moving sucks. Moving a farm is something akin to insane. Add a new kitten and two puppies at the same time and you are certifiable in any state.

No one feels the stress of the move more than the livestock. This makes conditions ripe for disaster. Like the rest of the state, we have battled the parasites. Each day is another battle. We have treated and wormed until the stock are sick of seeing us. Most of the flock is fine, but things are still touch and go with Sparrow. I almost lost her, pulled her back to the Land of the Living where I almost quit worrying, and now she is teetering on the edge again. The vet, the feed store, and the veterinary supply store all share the same tale - it's a bad year. Everyone is losing sheep and goats.

As ranchers we are in a Catch-22. We can worm regularly and run the risk of breeding drug resistant worms, or we can worm only when there is a problem. I have always chosen Door #2, but this year I'm still battling drug resistant worms, and thus I find myself shotgunning the problem - trying everything in hopes that something works. Some animals are amazingly resistant. The worms hit the elderly and the nursing mothers. The young sheep and goats are fine.

Saturday night I finally moved the sheep and goats home. It isn't ready yet, but since I tied up loose ends with the police department last week, we are officially retired now, and thus I have the time to monitor the stock hourly. We have a few small pens, but no stalls inside the barn yet, so we find ourselves juggling dogs and livestock. The property beside the house is fenced and manages to keep cows away from the barn, but needs to have a layer of field fencing attached before I trust goats and sheep loose unattended. Briar has her hands full up here.

Dear Friend Clyde watched her at work one night and remarked on how she impressed him. While he and Other Half worked inside the barn all night long, Briar lay in the driveway beside the goat pen. He said she would jump up and run off barking, then return to plop down in the same spot. Then she would run off barking in a different direction, and return to the same spot. This went on all night. Small wonder why the dog sleeps all day in front of the fan in the barn.

There is a reason why Livestock Guardian Dog breeds are nocturnal. Think about this when you want one as a pet - THEY ARE NOCTURNAL. THEY BARK ALL NIGHT AT THINGS THAT LURK IN THE DARK. While this may be annoying in a subdivision, it is quite comforting when your closest neighbors are the coyotes and bobcats coming up for an All-You-Can-Eat-Sheep-Buffet.

Last Sunday night we added some help for Briar - Judge & Jury.

They are baby Anatolian Shepherds and will some day tower over Briar but for now, they are just two more things under her protection. She pretty much treats them like she treated Mesa as puppy, they are a nuisance.

She either growls at them, or ignores them. I did note however, that Cowboy, in typical Snidley Whiplash fashion, took it upon himself to go over to their pen and posture aggressively. Briar eased herself up and slowly walked up, loomed over him, and said, "Stop that or I will kick your ass."

Snidley Whiplash skulked off and left the puppies alone after that.

Perhaps the biggest issue around here is that we lack a routine. A farm runs smoothly only because the animals have a schedule and expectations. At the moment we are flying by the seat of our pants. Some days flow and others are a train wreck. For instance, Mesa and Lily have managed to easily move The Boyz from their night pen to their day pen and back each day. I moved the Girlz home Saturday night and stupidly assumed the same routine could be adopted Sunday morning. Train wreck! Mesa had sheep bouncing off the walls and a lamb ended up with minor injuries. I was at an emotional breakdown. I wanted to cry but I didn't have time. Animals needed water. Water is precious here and I find myself hauling it by the bucket because it is too precious to allow goats to poop in it. (Has anyone developed a watering device for livestock that can be filled with a water hose but works to fill only a small part of drinking area at a time so when the beasts poop in it you don't waste the entire batch of water!!?)

The thermometer is climbing dangerously high. Even with care, animals in this part of the state are dying from the heat. The dogs and livestock seem fine, but the barn cats were in danger. To help them understand where they live, I still had them in dog crates in the barn. Unfortunately even with a fan on them and ice water, they were panting. I couldn't exactly bring them in the house until cooler weather. They were semi-feral and I have five to seven dogs in the house at any given time. It is Cat Hell. (Except for the Foundling Kitten who lives inside until he's big enough to handle The Great Outdoors.)

Since the Barn Cats would not have enjoyed the same deal, I decided to take the gamble that they'd stay home and turned them loose early. After I got word that two horses died yesterday in the heat, it confirmed my decision. The rest is up to the cats. They know where the groceries are served. I hope they choose to stay.

It is painful to open that crate and turn them loose, not knowing if I'd ever see them again, but at some point, I just have to have faith.

And that's really what it comes down to. When you stress animals and people enough, the bare bones of the situation are seen - who can adapt, and how quickly. We are as stressed as the animals. We do everything we can, but there reaches a point where the animals must also step up.

* Briar must not leave the farm and follow my pickup down the road. She hasn't done this since I threatened to shoot her with Dillon's K9 Kannon at the front gate.

* We must grit our teeth, say a prayer, turn the dogs loose, and hope a copperhead doesn't bite them. And if it does, we have the drugs on hand. Thus far, the dogs haven't left the property, and no one has been bitten. (Knock on wood!)

* We continue to fight the stomach worms in the goats and sheep daily but in the end, it is all still a learning process. What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger.

* The dogs (and the husband) are slowly adjusting to having a fearless kitten in the house. He will be outside soon enough, not soon enough for the kitten, but too soon for me.

* And we will have to adjust to living without the luxury of two nice paychecks. We are retired now. (I remind myself regularly of "the lilies in the field." I have faith. We'll be fine, but Other Half did tell me it was time to start writing that book!

And so there it is. It has been a long, hard journey, but we are finally here.

Those of you on Facebook already know this, but since the bulk of our readers are not on Facebook, I wanted to post it again, and give an update to the Facebook readers:

Sadly, we lost Roanie this week. Longtime readers will remember that years ago Roanie was one of the two ewes who were attacked by Other Half's patrol dog, Oli. The other ewe died following the attack. Roanie gamely hung on and forever earned a place in my heart. She was recovering from the attack when Briar was a puppy and they became good friends.

Roanie regained the use of her back leg and except for a slight limp, showed no evidence of the attack. Her sweet nature and her will to survive earned her a spot in the flock even as I sold off better ewes.  Not only was she my favorite, but I was always touched by her friendship with Briar. Despite being almost killed by a dog, she had no hard feelings about dogs and didn't hold it against her big white friend.

With all the rains, this has been a bad year for worms. When you add the stress of a move across Texas, and the additional stress of giving birth, Roanie's immune system was taxed too much. Despite the fact that the flock had been wormed multiple times for strongyles, these nasty barber pole worms got a foothold. We were able to save two anemic dairy goats, but were unable to save Roanie.

 This left Roanie's young ram lamb without a mother. Fortunately young Checkers was already eating solid food, but there is more to being a mother than just providing groceries.

Enter Dear Friend Clyde:

The girl goats and sheep are still staying with Dear Friends Kim & Clyde until we are completely up here full time. As you can see from the above picture, they couldn't be in better hands. Young Checkers got wet during a thunderstorm last night, hence he was brought into the house for the evening.

 Yes, that's a sheep in a wading pool, in the house.

Just like his mother, Checkers is special.

Many, many thanks to Dear Friends Clyde and Kim for taking care of him and the rest of the flock. This move across Texas has been a tough one and we couldn't have done it without friends on both sides of the state. Remember this when you count your wealth. Friends are worth far more than money in the bank. Dear Friend Kim shared this truism:

"Your time is the most valuable thing you can give someone."

I thank God for our wealth in friends who have given so much of themselves to help us.

Yesterday Briar and the Boyz made the grueling journey to north Texas. The plan was to leave at 4 am so the bulk of the ride would be when temperatures were still cool. That didn't happen. I wasn't able to get on the road until 6:15 AM and this put us smack in the middle of rush hour traffic when going through The Big City. As the minutes ticked away, the temperature climbed.

I had Lily, Ranger, Dillon, and Aja in the cab of an F250 pickup. Briar and the male goats (and Orville the ram) were tucked in the back of the horse trailer. Even with the windows down, it was a hot ride. We arrived around 2 PM, in the heat of the day. Poor Briar was almost at the point of a heat stroke.

She was having such a hard time that brought her into the house and let her lie on the cold concrete floor underneath the air conditioner. Even after she cooled off some, she had little interest in major exploring. She made a cursory attempt to walk the perimeter of the buck pen but decided it was too thick and too much trouble in the heat.

She eventually made her way to the barn, and collapsed in front of the big barn fan. When Lily brought the goats into the barn for the night, Briar escorted them and then plopped back down in front of the fan for the evening.

Last night I locked the goats inside the barn and left Ranger with Briar as additional security. I was awakened around 1 AM when the coyotes came close enough to the barn for Briar and Ranger to go batshit crazy. (Note to Self: Do not doubt the addition of 2 Anatolian Shepherd puppies. Briar will definitely need the help here!)

This morning she was rested and relaxed and ready to begin her day.

Briar took a walk with the other dogs and checked out her new digs.

She seems to like her new home. Thus far she has given me heart failure by sticking her nose into every place most likely to contain a copperhead. She has patrolled and marked and given it her seal of approval. Briar does not, however, like the hot sand in front of the barn, and the grasshoppers that land on her head.  Hopefully the coyotes don't see how she behaves when grasshoppers land on her nose.

Believe it or not, we are still moving! It isn't just a matter of moving a farm across the state, it's building the pens, building the stalls, and adding field fencing to existing barbed wire fences. It's trying to find space for a lifetime of accumulated "stuff" that simply will not fit in the new house.  It's juggling 7 dogs without the appropriate outside kennels. Yes, you can just turn them loose outside - during the day. At night, you better confine the dogs because like the freakin' Zombie Apocalypse, the damned copperheads come slithering out of hiding as the sun creeps down.

We got two in one night. I caught the above one actually coming inside the barn, slithering into my dog kennel - and I beat him to death with a bush ax. (Momma don't play around her dogs!) Other Half actually stepped on a copperhead one morning. It got away by hiding in a roll of field fencing. He altered his plans that day to include mowing everything close to the house. (Think "prairie dog hill" folks, PRAIRIE DOG HILL!"  Short grass doesn't keep them from coming close, but it does let you see them.

Which, unfortunately for the snake, leads to their demise. I'd actually leave them alone if it wasn't for the dogs, but I worry about losing a dog to a copperhead bite. That said, Dillon and Mesa dug out of their kennel one night while Other Half was puttering inside. He said they were only alone for about 20 minutes (Manspeak Translation: at LEAST an hour and 20 minutes) They had been out long enough to go down to the pond and take a swim, explore through all manner of bushes containing sticker burrs and briars, and meet me at the main gate when I came driving up in the dark. Friends, watching your dogs gallop up in the dark is both a welcome and a troubling sight.

They were loose at Prime Time Copperhead Hour - The Witching Hour, in the Prime Time Copperhead Location, and yet, both dogs emerged unharmed. Apparently the snakes in this area are not that aggressive. (except for the rattlesnake that did bite Dillon a few years ago) And given the choice, I'd rather have the copperheads than the rattlesnakes. They are easier to spot, and they aren't as poisonous. And they clearly aren't as quick to pull the trigger.

To answer your questions before you ask, (See, I'm learning!) No, Briar isn't up here yet. She is still with the boy goats down south in the care of a neighbor, but I shall inform her that she has a very strong fanbase. No, I haven't brought the girl goats and sheep home yet. They are still with Dear Friends Kim & Clyde who should be nominated for sainthood by now. No, I haven't picked up the Anatolian puppies yet. They are still babies and should be ready for our ranch when we are ready to take them.

Briar fans will be delighted to hear that my new veternarian is a goat person who has a livestock guardian puppy that looks JUST LIKE BRIAR! When he told me about her, he said,

"Go look in the back kennels (in the clinic) and see that ugly shaggy dog. That's it."

I poked my head back there and sure enough, it was a baby briar! I quickly whipped out my cell phone to show him pictures of what his little gem would grow to become.

That said, I guess I need to get off the computer and start putting up more field fence in the mesquite patch to make a day pen for the bucks. Ta-ta!

One of the biggest hurdles in moving a farm is in moving the livestock. On this last trip up we moved the rest of the cattle, and the girl goats and sheep. Briar is still in South Texas with the boys. The cattle were dumped out on our place and the goats and sheep went to their temporary home with Dear Friends Kim & Clyde. They have four donkeys and a mule that they placed around the goat/sheep pen. We dropped them off in the early afternoon. By that evening Kim was ready for dairy goats herself. The next morning we were on our way to a nearby farm to buy her a Nubian doe weanling. Yes, folks, dairy goats are like cocaine - one taste and you're hooked! They are that dangerous.

A big concern with the move was the fact that Roanie was heavily pregnant and I really didn't want to bounce her across Texas. She weathered the move like a trooper though, and a few days later this little guy was born.

Yesterday we turned Roanie and her new baby out with the herd. Another hurdle down.

We don't have donkeys. We don't have a llama. We have Briar. Although I have a lot of faith in Briar, I also know that the moment I move those sheep and goats onto this property I will have coyotes, bobcats, and possibly the cougar, coming right up to the house for a free dinner. That's more than Briar can handle by herself. We've built night pens behind the barn that are completely encircled by an alleyway where non-LGD dogs can run. This will allow them to protect the stock at night. My plan was to use the other dogs to 'supplement' Briar until her age forced me to get new livestock guardian dogs. After all, we have 8 dogs, I really didn't want to add any more.

But then . . .  Then I looked at the forest. I noticed how easily something could slip out in broad daylight, grab a baby lamb, and sneak right back into the foliage. There was no way Briar could be everywhere at once, and around here the forest has eyes.

Since I knew it was inevitable, I decided open myself up to the possibility of adding the pair of Anatolians I had always said I'd get when we moved up here. If it was meant to be, a pair would fall in my lap. Sure enough, a few days after I opened myself up to the idea, I saw a litter. These pups were exactly what I was looking for.

A phone call later and I had reserved two five week old boys.  They will be ready when we've completed the move and are ready for them.

Yes, ten freaking dogs. TEN!

3 Livestock Guardian Dogs
4 Border Collies
1 Freeloading Blue Heeler (holds down the bed)
1 Retired patrol dog (currently Head of Barn Security)
1 Labrador Retriever (currently Head of House Security)

I'm trying to not focus on the fact that we have ten dogs. I'm trying to focus on the fact that if I don't add dogs, I'll be subtracting lambs and kids immediately. Any rancher can tell you, once you turn the light on to signal the buffet is open, the predators will roll in night after night. It'll take quite a while to get these little guys trained anyway. They should be ready to take over full time by the day Briar is too old to be effective. If we get pups now, there shouldn't be much of a gap. Anatolians grow to be giant dogs so when these guys grown up like their dad, they should cause the predators around here to think twice about snatching up a goat.

 Big dogs!

This move up to North Texas is like a three ring circus anyway, what's a couple more acts in the show?

I'm not a very religious person. It's been a while since I've been to church and other folks know the Bible a lot better than me, but I do talk to God all the time, and I try to be open to His side of the conversation.

I think this is the hardest part of every relation - listening to the other person. My experience has been that if you don't listen to His whisper, God will send a roar to get your attention. There are things I've learned to accept in life - when a door opens, when a door closes, and when God puts something in your path. If God sent it, there's a reason. I can jump up and down and screech "Why NOW? Why NOW of all times?! I don't have time for this?!" Or I can put my big girl panties on and do what we all do - call Mom for help.

The adventure went like this:

Driving home from my last official night at work as a police officer I am on the phone with my mother in deep discussion about packing for the Big Move. I am on the way to her house to pick up shelving for my closet. I have my mother on my ear piece, the radio is on, and my air conditioner is blaring. Over this I hear a dog barking. Since I'm on the county road not too far from my mom's, and since her dog sometimes goes walkabout, I stop the truck to check it out. Now here is the weird part - I'm on the phone with my mother, and I ask her if her dog is out, and she says "no" but I am still compelled to stop and investigate the barking. Who does that?

It is late. It is dark. My mother has already said her dog is in the house. Why did I stop? Why did I get out of the truck? In the darkness I see a large canine figure take evasive action. This dog clearly does not know me, nor does it want to know me. I shrug, get in the truck and drive off. Even I am confused by my own behavior.

And then I hear it. Over my mother talking in my ear, over the radio, over the air conditioning, over the truck engine, I hear the plaintive cry of a kitten. I slam on the brakes.

Once again I step out of the truck and walk back down the dark county road. Out of the darkness a tiny kitten amps up the volume on his cries.

"Stop! Stop! Wait! Help me, Biped! Help!"

He ran through the dark along the county road and into my arms. I stood on the highway and accepted my fate. My husband hates cats. I have 7 dogs in the house. I am in the middle of moving an entire farm all the way across the state. The absolute last thing I need is a kitten so tiny that he must stay inside the house for quite a while, BUT what are the odds that all these things would fall into place to allow me to be in the right place to save this little guy? Without these things lining up, the dog would have killed the kitten, or he would have been hit by a car on the highway. Instead I stopped when I heard the barking and the kitten flagged me down. How could I possibly hear his cries over all the noise in my truck? The kitten was nowhere near my truck when I stopped. How could I possibly hear his cries?

That, Friends & Neighbors, is when you stop questioning things and just accept that God has sent you another cat. Don't fight it. Just accept it and go on. My long-suffering mother agreed to care for him until we moved. She named him Pavarotti because he has a healthy set of lungs and he was singing an opera all night while locked in a dog crate. This is the same woman who named a cat, Ptolemy, when my stepfather told her not to name the next kitten the kind of common name that kids think up. His decree was probably in response to the white cat we had named Snowball and the tabby cat named Tiger. Enter Ptolemy. Since he was no student of Egyptian history, I KNOW he'd never heard of that name before. And as kids, we then had a reason to look up Egyptian history. My mother was a bit of a progressive.

And so it was that in the middle of moving a farm across Texas, God sent us another family member. Meet Pavarotti. I must assume he is destined for great things.

We are almost completely moved in to the new ranch! It's been so long since I blogged that I almost forgot how to type!  Since the day has started again and we must make use of every scrap of daylight available, I'll just send you a few pics that represent the move thus far:

"We're finally here!"

 More copperheads.

God send us another Rat Warrior.

Dear Friend Kim falls in love with dairy goats.

We still have so much to do that we don't know where to turn next! Retirement is harder than working full time!