Farm Fresh Blog

Other Half and I have an ongoing argument about the virtues of cattle versus sheep and goats. He is a steadfast cow man while I'm a dyed-in-wool sheep & goat woman. (no pun intended) He argues that sheep and goats are too much trouble for their value. I argue that cows are too much trouble and too dangerous for their value, PLUS they take up too much acreage.  It's a no-win situation.

And that takes us to this morning. As usual, I have too much to do and not enough time to do it in. He is at work and I'm juggling the farm chores by myself. The morning went like this:

Wake up when large blue toy is dropped on my head. Good morning, Dillon. Bring Cowboy and Trace inside house. Let Lily and Dillon outside. Make sure that Cowboy and Trace are in kennels. Let Ranger out of his kennel and we snuggle for a few minutes so he can feel special. Remember that I have to go to work early today. Exchange Dillon for Ranger. Take a shower. Make coffee. Stumble out to greet the day.

Put Ranger in outside kennel. Put Dillon in outside kennel beside Ranger. Put horses in stalls. Note that 5 calves and Stupid Paisley Cow are loose in neighbor's pasture. Feed horses. Feed sheep and goats. Let dairy goats out to eat and baby goats play. Load Lily in mule with cow feed. Drive out to back pasture. Hot wire is down. Hot wire is in pieces coiled on the ground. Cuss cows. Cuss hotwire. Cuss Other Half for not selling Paisley. Cuss Paisley.

Feed other cows. Five calves return. Paisley cannot figure out how to get through fence. Slick wire with no hotwire on it. Paisley is not a mental giant. Cuss her some more.  Walk out there and try to get her in. She is uncooperative.  Cuss Paisley. Water horses. Checks goats and babies. Call Other Half while water trough is filling. Cuss Paisley some more.

Other Half gives advice:

"Get a sack of cubes."     (Done that.)

"Get a bucket and walk her to the walk-through gate." (Walk through gate has field fencing tacked on top of it by the neighbor. It is no longer a gate.)

"Get Cowboy and run her back through the fence." (The only way to get Cowboy to her is to run Cowboy through ALL the other cows with babies and then down to where Paisley is and THEN walk him back through those angry mommas and babies. Too dangerous for Cowboy. Don't even consider using my precious Lily.)

Walk out there again. She is just as uncooperative. Refuse to use dog. By now the rest of cows have finished eating and are curious. Cuss Paisley. Cuss cows in general. Other Half gives more advice:

"Leave the bitch where she's at. Deal with it later." (Works for me. I can't be late for work today.)

I remind him again how much trouble cattle are. He is not in the mood to listen. Fine. I'm not in the mood to have the same argument. Realize I'm running out of time. No more time for cattle. Put Lily back in yard. Clean dairy goat yard. Give them water. Give them alfalfa. Put goats back up. Water sheep. Go back to pasture to turn off horse trough that I left running.

Turn horses out. No time to snuggle baby goats. Stuff them back in pen. Go to dog kennels. Start to water Ranger. Note that he has watered himself. He has grabbed the end of the hose which was sticking into his kennel. Blue Devil has dragged hose into his kennel about six feet and then chewed it so that now it is a sprinkler hose.  Cuss Blue Dog. Leave him there. Get Dillon and Lily and go water garden in front yard. Enjoy a moment in the garden. 

Let Lily and Dillon play in the water hose. Ranger hears this and barks from behind the house. Remind him that he already had his "play with the water hose time."

Other Half calls back and I have to admit that I left the water hose where the dog could chew it up. He is gracious about it.  He does not cuss my blue dog like I cuss his red cow. At least one of us is an adult today. (The key to a good relationship is that only one person can be a child at a time. . . )

Now the outside chores are done and I must get ready for work. He must get back to work. And maybe, just maybe, when I come home Paisley's dumb ass will be back in the pasture. Or maybe the rest of the cows will be with her in the neighbor's field. I really don't like cattle today. . .

Nothing quite reminds you to live in the moment like spending time with animals, and no one does it better than baby animals. Each new experience is a novel adventure and watching them waddle through life forces me to slow down and appreciate the world around me too.

Take a lesson from this kid. Breathe in life. Each breath is a new adventure.

I had to share these pictures with you! The new babies haven't been introduced to the flock yet. When they were born one of the yearling lambs was already smushing the brown one before Other Half discovered the new arrivals. So all interaction is through the bars for a while. During the daytime I let the whole flock into the yard and lock the babies in a dog run for "day care."  Their mom comes in from time to time for "snack time" and after that they sack out in the dogloo.

Briar has been parking herself either outside the door of the dog run or inside the adjacent kennel so she can keep an eye on the little ones. They are as curious about Briar as she is about them.

I got so tickled today when I was in the pen with them and I heard someone calling my goats/sheep on the highway.  I heard a human say, "Baaaaa...."  and the goats answered.

And so did Briar.  That big dog can move fast.  Apparently two bicyclists had decided to talk to the sheep along their route. Briar raced out there and barked,

"MOVE ALONG!!!  Nothing to see here!  Move along!"

And the cyclists rolled away. Briar returned to the baby goats to touch noses. Yep. They're still okay. No one stole them while her back was turned.  Silly ol' dawg.

Correction!  One baby girl.

One baby boy.

     Once the sun came up we took a better look at everyone's anatomy and adjusted the farm log book accordingly. Both are healthy and happy. Crimson is taking great care of them. The white one is most definitely a loudmouth diva. 

I had toyed with the idea of naming them Liza Minelli and Aretha Franklin. (my favorite divas from the Snickers commercial!) but fortunately we discovered that Aretha was really a boy before the name stuck. And then we discovered that my sister's old reliable horse died yesterday just about when the babies were born, thus we named the white girl, "Bailey", to honor Danna's horse. Someone has already tentatively spoken for the little boy so I'll let her name him.

I LOVE baby goats. I love crawling around in the stall trying to take pictures of uncooperative babies and mammas who keep mugging the camera. Here is a smattering of our morning:

Guess what Other Half found when he came home this afternoon?!!!!

Because of time and space, we didn't breed the sheep this year, but I still bred the dairy goats because we need milk (for coffee and soap!) After months and months of wondering whether or not Baby Oscar had been able to get the job done, I finally gave up worrying whether my dairy goats were pregnant. (Yes, I could have drawn blood and run the test, but that kept getting put off too.)

Then Crimson started looking really poor. I mean REALLY poor. I got worried. She was anemic. Everyone else looked good, but she was wormy. Thus began the debate. Worm or not to worm? If I worm and she's pregnant, there could be problems. If I don't worm, it could be a moot discussion because she'd end up dead. So, I wormed. And later I wormed again.  Two weeks after that she started bagging up. Hmmmm.... Doesn't it just figure? Guess that answered the question about whether or not she was pregnant.

And since she is pregnant, it's a good bet that the Clover is pregnant too. Yes, I'm happy they are pregnant, but this richly illustrates why I hate to keep bucks or rams with my girls all the time. You never freakin' know when someone is due!!! It's impossible to juggle innoculations and worming when you never know when the girls have been bred!  That said, once this crop of babies hits the ground, Oscar's life is about to change. (take a moment for a collective sigh of sympathy for Oscar)

So now we are on Baby Watch. Yesterday Other Half installed video surveillance cameras on the property. I LOVE IT! When we put in the new barn at the ranch, we are already planning on having video surveillance on the goats and the chickens. There will be no more worries about when babies come in the middle of the night or it a raccoon is in the hen house. We will be High-Tech Rednecks!

While the last two weeks were chaotic here, things in the pasture just churned along happily. Little black calves are popping up everywhere and I really, really, REALLY appreciate good mamma cows.  Even Paisley The Pesky Cow stepped up to the plate this year and managed to not only deliver a healthy baby, but care for it much better this year. It was nice to just walk out to the pasture to find another set of four feet tagging along with Paisley. No worries there!

Bully once again proved why he's such an assest to the ranch. He's easy to handle and his calves could come out sideways and still be delivered with no problems. (just kiddin'! Wouldn't wanna try that!) The calves gain weight fast too. So each year when we think about replacing him with a younger bull, his calf crop hits the ground and we think again, "Maybe we should just keep Bully a little longer . . . "

This is an excerpt from a real conversation that took place in the check-out line at Tractor Supply between Other Half and a K9 Officer from another agency. Both were off-duty and in plain clothes.

Other Half: "when are y'all working dope now?"

Friend: "Wednesdays."

Other Half: "Y'all usin' the real stuff?"

Friend: "Oh yeah! I've got marijuana, cocaine, meth, black tar herion, whatever you want!"

At this point I turned around and glanced at the line of people waiting with us. Eyes were bugging. Husband and Friend carried on, oblivious to their audience. Another check-out register opened and I walked away from both of them, pretending to be as shocked as everyone else.

Update on Oli:

Her new mommy reports that she is "undoubtedly a VERY smart dog." Apparently Oli is scamming her new roommate out of pig ears.  The roommate, Solly, was laying at New Mommy's feet, chewing a pig ear when Oli approached New Mommy for pets and kisses. When Solly saw what was going on, she left her pig ear to come put her head in New Mommy's lap too. Oli then snuck under the table and stole the pig ear. Feeling bad for Solly, New Mommy gave her another pig ear. Oli suckered Solly into leaving the pig ear to get attention from New Mommy and she stole the second pig ear too! What a clever little beast!

Years ago I had the sweetest little Catahoula Leopard Dog named Frio. She wasn't much to look at: gray spots on a black body with tan points. Frio was the kind of farm dog that fought snakes and rats with the same ferocity that she protected children.

At the same time I had a beautiful Belgian Tervuren dog named Katy. She was one of the most beautiful dogs I'd ever seen. Sweet, goofy and very affectionate, she also had the heart of a killer. Katy was a high drive-low threshold dog who was very dog aggressive. For years I juggled Katy and everyone around her: people and dogs. Katy was an efficient chicken killer who actively hunted birds, waiting for her opportunity to strike. At the time I didn't have sheep or goats, but eventually Katy killed every chicken I had. Katy bullied gentle Frio every chance she got and many dog fights ensued as Katy (and Alice the Bloodhound) tag-teamed innocent Frio. And yet, I arrogantly tried to manage the dogs because I didn't think it was fair to Katy to put her down for dog aggression.

And one day I made a mistake. To make an ugly story short, Gentle Frio had to be euthanized because of her injuries. The next day Katy was euthanized for killing Frio. I lost two dogs in two days because of my arrogance. I was so concerned about doing what was right for Katy that I forgot the most important point: what about what was fair to Frio?

I still cry over that little dog.

If there was anything to be learned from Frio's lesson it was not to lose sight of the victim. Because no matter how good your intentions are, eventually you will make mistakes . . .

 . . . just like I made on Tuesday when I turned Oli out when the sheep were in the yard. Oli is the most efficient killing machine I've seen since Katy. Within two months of Oli moving onto my farm, she had already killed one sheep and injured another. Whose fault? Mine.

We juggled Oli for years and last December Oli was turned loose with the sheep again. Whose fault? Other Half's. Thankfully Briar had us covered and we skated on that one.

And last week? Whose fault? Mine.

But after Oli's adventure last week she kicked up her hunting a notch. No longer content to trot circles at the fence, Oli began to actively try to find ways over, under, or through the field fencing to get to the sheep. She could not be left unattended in the yard at all. To give Oli potty breaks I had to stand at the fence line with Briar to be sure that Oli didnt get through the fence. Even then, she would trot past and cast a look at us,

"Y'all still there? Bummer. Still there." And off she'd trot.

It was painfully apparent that we couldn't live like this anymore. Eventually we'd make a mistake and another sheep would die. Other Half wanted to put her down immediately after he heard she wouldn't call off the sheep. I argued that the incident was my fault. Oli is what she is. The fault was mine. And then I watched her continue to hunt them and I remembered Frio.

I was caught up in doing what was fair to Oli, but what about the victim?

What about Jamaica and Roanie?

What about Ma?

We'd already tried to find a home for her but no one who wanted her was qualified to handle such an efficient predator. And so I told Other Half to go ahead and put her down.

But we were both busy. Life was chaotic and we simply didn't have time this week to get to the vet's. I didn't want to do it, but I hardened my heart each time I stood in the dark at the fence line and watched her try to sneak past me. I had reached the point where I threw up my hands to God and said

 "I just can't deal with this any more! YOU handle it!"

(God apparently forgives my snarky behavior...)

Because wonder of wonders . . . I got an email from Julie. She is one of the folks I had contacted when the agency retired Oli and I was looking for a qualified home for her. At the time I had assured her that Oli was in no danger. We were happy to have Oli live with us for as long as it took to find a good 'forever' home for her. That was before Oli 'amped up' her attempts to get the sheep.

Julie wrote that she'd been thinking about Oli and was just checking on her.

So I told her about our little predator's recent activities and our decision to put her down this week. Although Julie had a 'full house' she told me she'd try to 'pull a rabbit out of a hat.'

And she did. Julie found Kym, who also has a full house, but who has a soft spot for adorable, snuggly little sheep killers who simply cannot live on farms but who are otherwise sweet little dogs. Kym runs Triumphant Tails Dog Rescue and after talking with her, I realized that she would be able to handle our little sheep killer. She agreed to keep her until she could find a qualified home for her (not on a farm!) and Oli is already fitting into Kym's home.

 It sounds like she's happy.  Couches, long walks, dog buddies, raw food (Kym said Oli LOVES the raw food diet. No surprise there!)

I'm certainly happy. I hated the idea of putting Oli down for no other crime than simply being a predator. A tiger is a tiger. One simply doesn't keep a tiger with sheep and then blame the tiger for being a tiger.

But if you don't do 'something' with the tiger, you WILL end up with a lot of dead sheep.

And Frio will always remain in the back of my mind, speaking for the victim . . .