As The Butter Churns

February 27th Lucky Strike Extra

 (Nick and Lindsey get ready to leave)

     Lindsey and Nick left on a jet plane bound for Mammoth. Lindsey went home to her mom filled with stories, pictures and new friends. Nick on the other hand went home to his dad filled with anger, accusations and angst. Endings are never easy and this one was particularly hard. Nick who had chosen, begged to come and live on our farm to have a fresh start, was miserable now and felt it was time to go home. All things considered, I finally, reluctantly agreed. Lines had been crossed, things had been said, so I wished Nick luck and told him I hoped he would find what he was looking for.

“It’s all good,” he said and slipped away behind security while Lindsey stood waving goodbye.

After they left, the farm was unusually quiet. Nick’s sudden departure was traumatic. Henry was sullen and broken-hearted. It was back to just Henry and me and of course forty-six animals – give or take. Not much consolation when you feel as though you lost a kind of brother. All week Henry’s teachers and coach were asking if everything was all right at home. It wasn’t. 

The week dragged on, Henry continued to work out at the gym, his state meet looming near, but it was easy to see he found it hard to concentrate. On a bright note, our new tenants, Joe and Katie moved in with their dog, Rugby. But nothing seemed to ease the pain of Nick’s departure.

  (Henry works on his routine)

 (Henry works on his flairs)

 (parallel routine)

 (Henry swings)

 (Joe and Katie arrive)
 

 (Luther greets Joe while Kate works) 
 
 

 (Mike Senzer - for those who don't know - Mike is a science teacher who moved up here from Los Angeles)

 (Me and my little girl, Gnatalie- the cuddly cow I always dreamed of)
 

Mike drove up for a visit from Tacoma. We hadn’t seen him in a while and he thought he’d come see Henry for moral support and my dad drove out too just to fill the place with a little joie de vive. Tom called constantly, worried about Henry’s recent regression. We both knew Henry didn’t handle loss well, ever since his best friend, Harry, died.

            “Mom?” Henry said with a pitchfork in his hand. “There’s a trailer pulling up to the gate, should I go open it?”

            “Yeah, that’d be a good idea, it’s Susie and her husband” I said with a sneaky smile.

            “Susie? Doe she have Petite?” Henry asked wide-eyed, excitement spreading across his face.

             “Yep,” I said as Henry went running off.

          “There’s something else isn’t there?” Mike said assessing my demeanor.

            “You know me too well,” I admitted. I’m always in a good mood when Mike’s cleaning the barn. He takes off his squeaky white sneakers and puts on the farm boots Tom and I selfishly got him a couple of Christmas’s ago. Then pens in his breast pocket, he sets to work in his farm ensemble: worn khakis, short-sleeve button down, brown leather belt. Mike can’t stand an untidy barn. This by the way, has absolutely nothing to do with the conditions of the animal pens. Rather Mike can’t take the gestalt of the barn feeling unkempt. He likes the middle swept and the rakes hung in their proper locations. Hay bales should be stacked and water buckets arranged so as to be out of walk ways. “What can I say, some people buy strappy sandals in times of emotional crisis, I buy endangered farm animals,” I grinned.

            “You’ve about collected the whole colonial set,” he teased.

            “I’m still missing the pigs,” I reminded him.

             We walked out the barn doors and waved to Susie and her husband as they made their way down toward the pasture. Henry was running behind them trailed nimbly by Bruno who was leaping and darting here and there. Everyone was bursting with excitement.

 (Grandpa Horn -and Irish-- my dad is wearing his bandage from his latest cancer skin- his third type & once again he should be fine-The Luck of...)
 

  (Susie and her husband, Rex arrive from Pixie Forest Farm- specializing in heritage cattle Irish Dexters)
 

 (Gnatalie doesn't know how happy she's going to be)
 

            I opened the gates the gates to the pasture and Susie raised an eyebrow in my direction. “Should we unload?” She asked. 

            “Is that Lucky? I remember her!” Henry called. “We got two?”

            “Lucky is Petite’s daughter, Gnatalie’s aunt, Gnatalie’s mother Ladybug and Lucky are sisters.” I explained trying to appear rational, “Susie and I thought it would be a good idea to keep the family together”.

            “Do you think they’ll remember each other?” Henry turned to Susie.

             “Absolutely. It’s amazing what cows remember,” she laughed. “Sometimes you wish they’d forget things. The truth is, I had two cows, sisters, that were separated for more than a year and when they were put in a pasture of cows, they found each other in minutes and were inseparable. All my cows hang-out in family groups.”

            We brought Petite in first and then Lucky. Gnatalie began to lick and snuggle them immediately. The boys, Abe and Andy were not so happy. They began hollering and moo-oooing loudly.

“I suppose this is what they mean by having a cow” I surmised.

  (Susie and Petite enter the pasture while Henry watches - my dad is coming down the hill from the barn)

 (Gnatalie can't lick Petite enough - kisses and kisses for grandma)
 
  (The look of shock on Abe - left- and Andy is beyond consolation - in mid moo)

 (Happy cows - Gnatalie and her aunt Lucky butt heads)
 
  (Andy continues to Mooo his head off- is he welcoming or warning?)
 

            “Do you think they’ll hurt them?” Henry worried.

            “Nahhh, they’re boys and these are girls. Everyone should be fine in just a little while. Do you want me to let them go?” Susie asked. Mike not a lover of bovine, meandered back with his pitchfork in hand toward the barn. He had work to do.

            “Sure, I’d rather you were here for this anyway. Just in case. I’m big on just in case”. Susie untied the girls and off they went. Cows gone wild. Petite, Lucky and Gnatalie took off with Abe and Andy in pursuit. They ran and kicked up their heels checking out every corner of the pasture.

  (Petite, Lucky, Andy and Abe- Gnatalie is running to meet them)
 

 (a happy herd)
 

            “Today Gnatalie’s a happy girl Mama,” Henry murmured perched on the weathered cedar fence. “Rat-Bat Nooooo!” He yelled as I saw that darn dog race toward the herd of cattle. “He could get killed!”

            We screamed “Bruno! Rattie! Rat-Bat! Get over here! Come!”  And luckily he is fairly obedient or he realized he was about to have a near death experience so he came trotting back. Henry ran over and scooped him up just to be safe. The excitement over, we relaxed a little and chatted with Susie about her cattle rustlers and the legal battle about getting them back her cows.

  (Bruno and Henry - with Andy in the back)
 

 (Andy and Abe watch the girls at the feeder - looking like a Far Side cartoon)
 

            “If you need us for the round-up, Henry and I will be there,” I offered.

“I just might take you up on that,” she winked driving away with her husband.

After they left we went back to cleaning the barn and finishing the chores of the day. We made chili, watched and watched the Olympics with my dad and Mike. As Henry was going to sleep surrounded by dogs and cats of all colors and sizes, he asked me, 

“Mama? Do you think Nick is sad? Do you think he will miss me?”

“No,” I said honestly, “I think he won’t at first Honey. Right now, Nick is in his own sad world. He’s thinking only about himself. He’s unhappy with himself, but one day. Yes. He will miss you and realize how much you love him and how much we all love him and then maybe he’ll regret how things ended”, I said wiping away his tears. “But until then, you have Quinn and Phoebe and all of us and Lindsey and Awesomez and we all love you, and I know it’s not the same,” I said softly.

“I don’t even know why I love him so much,” Henry said. “

“My mom asked me a long time ago, what I thought love was. I remember we were driving down Mulholland. I told her I thought she was being completely ridiculous. Everyone knows what love is I mean c’mon. Now I realize what a complicated question it was. One thing I know for sure. Love never ends”.

“You know, it makes me think of Harry. Losing him. Every time I get close to someone they leave,” he said his eyes filling again with tears. I didn’t know what to say, how to comfort him. I knew this was bringing back so many painful memories. I simply hugged him tight. “Mama, do you think cows feel a kind of love? I mean they search the herds for their families.”

“I do. Now it’s late. Good Night John-Boy,”

“Good-Night, and Mama?”

“Yes?”

“Lucky, might just be lucky,her ear tag is 13” he said sleepily.

“We could use some luck. You know, there was a time when my friends said if it weren’t for bad luck I’d have no luck at all,” I smirked.

“Then what happened?”

“I had you”.

 (Lucky - 13- daughter of Petite- sister of Lady Bug - aunt to Gnatalie- born at Pixie Forest Farm)
 

December 6th Eddie Rascal

 (Sir Edward and - Miracle - playing the part of Tim's neighbor -Wilson from the show"Home Improvement")
 

My pasture has been entirely too quiet and empty for weeks. Of course, Miracle and Sir Edward have been subleasing the space but it’s not the same. They don’t jingle jangle jingle like Andy or serenade me like Abe and Gnatalie do with their mooo-hooooing

A couple of weeks ago Nick, Henry and I went to Dave’s and tried to get the cows, but to no avail. As we feared the ding dang boys flipped out just like before and Gnatalie had no intention of leaving Peggy. However we didn’t exactly leave empty handed. We got a head of cabbage from Dave’s garden, a jug of fresh cider he'd pressed and we learned a few interesting tid bits. Dave it seems was in the first graduating class at Sehome, where Nick goes to school. And strangely – we found out Dave knows Little Chris Donaldson. In fact, he knows him very well. He dated and lived  for years with Little Chris Donaldson’s mother. Talk about your small world, I couldn't wait to tell my sister.

 (Dave's cabin)

 (Dave in Dave's house)
 (Dave's house- serious county)

 (Nick getting packer pellets)

 (Nick sippin' cider)

That was then, this is now.

Today, together with Dave’s boyhood pal, Eddie, we were going to finally, finally bring the cows home. Eddie has a trailer and is charging Dave and I each fifty bucks for his services He was going to take Dave’s cow Peggy and her calf, Tucker to Dave’s brother’s house to hook up with his bull. In addition,my fifty bucks will get my three bovine from Dave's house to my pasture.

So this morning after a pot of coffee or two, Awesomez, Henry and I drove over to Dave’s to get this round up on the road. Dave had gotten my three in his pipe corral and they were ready to be loaded. Eddie was in the process of backing up the trailer to the entrance of the corral when we drove up.

As I approached pockets full of packer pellets, I could hear Dave yelling in an increasingly frantic tone “Stop! Stop! STOP!! EDDIE!! STOP!” Eddie was not stopping so I ran over to his window and hollered for him to stop. He stopped as his trailer grazed the pipe corral gate.  I’d met Eddie’s type before. I could tell from this little episode what I was up against. It wasn’t a matter of lack of hearing, although I’m sure that's part of it. It’s a matter of being in his own Eddie World. Not caring if he hit the fence or not. He wasn’t even looking for a cue to stop he was just doing his own Eddie thing.

He stepped out of the trailer smiling extremely pleased with his trailer prowess and delighted with his extremely close proximity to the corral.

“Well, let’s load ‘em up!” Eddie instructed as if everyone should snap to attention. The boys and Gnatalie were non-plussed by Eddie’s direction or the trailer. They had no intention of doing anything but eat the hay they’d been bribed with to enter the corral.

 (Gnatalie, Andy and Abe)

“I guess I shouldn’t have fed them,” Dave chided himself.

“We can just move some of the hay into the trailer.” I suggested

“And we brought plenty of packer pellets.” Henry informed him although I’m not sure he fully understood the heroin-like allure the pellets have on the cattle.

We all took up our positions. Henry was to float around and do whatever I needed. Awesomez took the space between one edge of the trailer and  the fence. She was to use her body to block the cows from slipping through this gaping hole. Dave was going to go in the pen with me and Eddie was going to "supervise". I tried luring the boys in with a pellet or two, but Abe nor Andy was ready to work that hard when they had so much premium hay at their disposal. Things didn't go smoothly at first. The cows were obstinate and we were running out of tricks.

“We need a lead rope.” Dave muttered. Without a word I unwrapped my scarf from around my neck and put it around Abe’s neck. He didn't go right away, it took some time, but after some time he let me lead him toward Awesomez I could see the concern on her face. She was to block this fella from going on a hike through the forest. If he got out, we wouldn't get him back today. Nearing her he grazed her with his horns. 

"Are you kidding me? What if he bolts?" She said more to herself than to anyone else. "How did I get here? I'm wrangling cows! The things I do for you Miller!" I thought she might step away at the last moment, but she held her position and he walked in the trailer as nice as you please. Wham! Eddie closed the first compartment behind him and he disappeared.

 (getting these boys going)
 

 (it took some time)
 

 (Abe just before disappearing)

Now for Andy, who didn’t think Abe’s Kris Angel impression was something he wanted to try. Andy had absolutely no intention of following him. So I pulled and prodded and lured and cajoled and begged while Awesomez blocked the escape route again and Henry manned the gate in case I was successful. Eventually, surprisingly, we successful so Dave pulled a rope through the trailer and behind his bum to make him feel penned in. Eddie not taking the time to notice I was standing near the rope pulled it up and tight almost strangling me with it while tying it down. 

 (have fashion accessories will travel)

 (Goldie Hawn's umbrella in "Foul Play" has nothing on my scarf)

 (getting Andy in)

 

 

 (temporarily tying them in)
 

 (Dave and me trying to keep Andy in)
 

Now it was Gnatalie’s turn. The little thing has a will of iron and didn't go quickly. However, she is also love bug and really just wants to be snuggled so she eventually went in too.

The problem facing us now was that the trailer door was open wide. And in order to close it we had to move forward enough to allow the door to squeeze past the corral. A bigger problem than it sounds. In effect, we had to move forward over four feet with three cattle. Two completely unsecured . If the trailer wasn’t so close to the pipe corral we could have simply shut the door.

 A person of sound mind would realize the danger in this maneuver and wait for the person in the trailer to get out. A person concerned about others would move forward slowly and cautiously with regard to animal and human safety. A person with half a brain wouldn't slam on the brakes. The trouble was we had Eddie.

Without warning the trailer lurched forward with a heave. To be fair,  Eddie might have felt he had to gun it because of the weight, but I suspect his truck was accustom to this kind of load. Whatever the reason, the sudden motion was debilitating. Andy stumbled and went down on one side. Gnatalie lurched to the right stapling me against the side of the trailer. As the rig continued forward I bobbed and weaved, bracing myself trying desperately to stay out from underneath a side of beef. I didn’t have time to be scared as Eddie hit the brakes I was so busy trying to keep from becoming a paraplegic. When the movement finally stopped the door slammed shut momentarily closing me in.

 (Henry mans the gate)
 

 (Eddie, Dave the trailer door closed - me and Henry)
  (the sign on the back of the trailer)

 

Emerging unscathed I looked over at Awesomez whose face was racked with fear. She tossed me a knowing look, but seeing I was OK relaxed a bit. I breathed a deep sigh acknowledging how lucky I’d been. "That jerk could have killed you," she muttered under her breath as she gave me a hug. "I can't believe how tough you are. I think Eddie thought you were hot pushing those cows around." I was just glad to be alive.

"I can't believe you've turned into a cow girl! You, Go-Go Gomez, - who would have believed it?"

"I didn't do much, I just blocked giant cows with my body," She said humbly. Although I knew how scary it had been when those cows had come toward her. Courage is doing something you're afraid of in spite of your fear. She had been brave.

"You were Awesome Awesomez!" Henry insisted as we began to walk to the car.

“That’s quite a scarf you’ve got there,” Dave laughed tugging on one end relieving some of my tension.

We said good-bye to a forlorn Peggy and Tucker and followed Eddie back to my house where we unloaded our trio without incident.

 (on the road)

 (Eddie is adept with the trailer)

 (About to unload)

 (the welcoming committee)

 (Pals - Richard and Franklin come for a look)
 

 

 (unloading without any trouble)

 (Home again, home again - jiggity jig)

 (Awesomez, Dave and Richard)

(cookie monsters)  
 
      (Henry brings the tractor)

 (Awesomez, Dave as well as Richard and Franklin)
 
       (Eddie)
 

Henry fetched the tractor so we could put a round bale in Eddie’s trailer for Dave to take home.

It was then that Eddie launched into his “You really from California?”

“Um, yes.” I answered cautiously. There was a familiar smarmy tone to Eddie’s question instantly making me uncomfortable.

“I think you must have gone to Berkley,” he baited.

“Berkley? You think I went to Berkley? Why because I’m so liberal?”  Those were fighting words. Knowing he must be as right wing as they come I didn't want to tell him I’d been a registered Republican, voted for Reagan and Bush senior for fear it might be construed as some sort of GOP aphrodisiac, something akin to listening to Hannity by candlelight. 

“Yup.”

“I did vote for Hilary,” I declared unabashedly hoping to put an end to the flirtatious tone in his voice by playing the staunch feminist Clinton card.

“Now Eddie, I told you not to speak. You always get in trouble when you talk.” Dave cajoled desperately trying to end this conversation.

“Hilary! Now I like that Sarah Palin,” Eddie informed us. “She’s cute.”

“Exactly that's why you like her.” I said with all the disdain I could muster.

“How do you know why I like her?” Eddie asked.

“Because there isn’t any other reason to like her.” I said shoving the bale of hay in the trailer with the trailer bucket for punctuation.

“Eddie, you’re talking again. Don’t talk in front of the people they don’t like it.” Dave tried again.

“She looks a little like Sarah Palin with her hair up don’t you think?” Awesomez slyly interjected her eyes laughing. “You should see her when she puts on her red glasses.” I wanted to smack her, but instead I gave her a smile that said it all. Eddie leaned one arm on the tractor looking at me with his Paul Newman blue eyes. Leering he began launching into a chauvinistic assessment of my appearance, my suspected left-wing activities out here in the county and the virtues of the Republican Party, NRA and Sarah Palin. I smiled politely and threw poison barbs every now and then trying to be cutting but not outright angry. I could see the obvious discomfort on Dave’s face and not surprisingly, Awesomez had quietly slipped away as she can only take so much. Her father had a "W" on his door for years.

“Anyone with a brain is better than 43 was - Eddie. Let’s leave it at that. C’mon you rascal we’ve got to get Peggy to my brother’s. Thanks for the hay Denise.” Dave said trying to hasten their departure.

“No Dave, thank you for taking care of my runaways.” I said taking his cue. “I’m just going to go put the tractor up and get my wallet. I’ll meet you at the gate.”

As they drove away Awesomez said “Sorry about the Palin thing. I can’t take guys like that. You know he asked me if I was Henry’s grandma?” she said completely annoyed.

“You think that’s bad? He thought I was a little girl! A little girl! Are you freaking kidding me? He called me MISS,” Henry complained completely outraged.

“You look great for a grandma,” I said looking at my friend, “but you’re pretty homely for a girl.” I informed Henry.

“Is that right? Well, people tell me I look just like you -  Sarah.” Henry countered sending Awseomez into her signature giggle.

 (and where was teenage Nick - you ask?)
 

 

 

 

November 8th Git Along Little Dogies

 (a beaver sighting across the pasture and after closer investigation I located a dam! Not at the pond - but in our creek)

    When we woke up on Sunday morning, Henry couldn’t see outside. “It’s like a carwash out there.” Not our usual. Sure Washington is known for it’s rain and most people complain about it constantly to keep the tourists away, but truly we usually get a misty rain. Only tourists carry “dumbrellas” as Tom calls them. In fact, I’m not quite considered local wearing a hood as I do on occasion. I asked a customer at the Everybody Store if she shouldn’t put on her jacket to go to her car with the downpour we were having. She turned and smiled over her shoulder at me as she put me in my place. “I’m from Washington. It’s not like I expect to stay dry.”

    Now almost full-blown Washingtonians it was time to bring our cows home. Weather or not. Armed with determination, some lead ropes and a bucket of grain. The boys and I followed my neighbor Dave’s instructions to his house. We turned left on the logging road and proceeded straight. He’d opened the metal arm that normally blocks any misguided motorists from venturing deep into the forest.

    “Hasn’t it been at least a mile?” Nick wondered as he drove carefully down the gravel road.

    “Maybe we missed it?” Henry added. “Maybe we were supposed to turn back there where it forked.”

    “Nope, there’s the old dump truck he was talking about.”

    “Wow that is an old dump truck. And look at that old horse trailer,” Henry noted.

    “Doesn’t look like he likes visitors much,” Nick said taking heed of the signs.

 (the welcome marker)

 (On the logging road)

 (Private Property)

    We all looked at each other. He’d seemed like a nice guy on the phone, but here I was driving into the forest with two kids. I felt as though I might be embarking into some terrifying thriller. As we crept a long I tried convincing myself Jack Nicholson was not just around the bend. I swear if either boy had said, “Redrum” we would have been out of there.

    My breathing resumed when the cows came into view. I opened the window and yelled “Abe! Andy!” and they came running with that clinking, clanking sound. Smiles and excitement filled the car. Our cows loved us! Our cows missed us! Our cows were coming home!

 (Abe and Andy come a runnin')

    We hopped out of the car and introduced ourselves to the mule eyeing us. “His name is Pablo,” Dave said walking up. “He’s a troublemaker,” he added laughing.

    “What does he do?” Henry asked.

    “Well, I can’t keep him in with my cows, Peggy and Tucker because he chases them. He’ll run poor Peggy into a frenzy. He likes to stir things up.” Dave explained.

    “Will he hurt them?” Nick asked.

    “Actually, I think he just wants to play,” Dave said with a smile.

 (Pablo eyes us)

 (Pablo says hello)

 (Pablo is a water boy)

 (Pablo in the creek)

 (Pablo in the creek)

 (Pablo examines a rock)

 (Pablo with Dave's house in the background)

 (my neighbor Dave)

    We all chatted a bit with rain dripping down our faces “How long have you lived here?” I asked.

    “Oh since the early seventies. I grew up in Bellingham.”

    “You don’t have internet do you?”

    “Not yet.”

    “Electricity?”

    “When I turn on the power switch.”

    “Heat?”

    “Wood. I do have a propane tank, but I try not to use it.”

    “Running water?”

    “The best water ever, from the creek.”

    “Television?” I asked doubtfully.

    “I have that! When I turn on the power and I am thinkin’ about getting the Internet. I guess you have it?”

    “I’m from Los Angeles,” was all I said and all I needed to say. I felt very techie. “And I thought my home was quiet, all you hear out here is the forest I’ll bet.”

    “And my chickens.” He pointed toward the house where they were out in the rain pecking at the grass.

    “Gnatalie sure has played a lot with Peggy’s calf, Tucker,” Dave said. “I’m sure he’s going to miss her and Peggy, she’s a natural mother. She loved having all the company. These fellas have been a real kick. That one there he moos the minute he sees me coming.” Dave said wistfully.

 (Nick petting Gnat)

 (Abe, Gnatalie and Abe)

 (Pretty Peggy)

 (baby Tucker)

 (the herd)

    “That’s Abe he’s a chatty one.”

    “I’ll say he’s chatty.” Dave grinned.

    Henry not wanting to waste any time or an opportunity, he had proceeded walking toward Mosquito Lake Road with our three cows behind him. Gnatalie was our “Norman”.

    Just as Gnatalie left the far point of the pasture fence, she realized she was being lured away from her precious surrogate mama, Peggy, and her beloved playmate, Tucker. She turned back at full tilt. She arrived back at the gate planting herself in the mud. It was apparent there was going to be no moving her today. She started mooing for Peggy who mooed back.

 (Gnatalie on the run)

    As I watched I couldn’t help but feel sad. She’d much rather be with these two than our boys. It was no surprise, but I felt badly for her. “We’ve been struggling whether or not to get Gnatalie’s grandmother and her new calf. I guess the decision’s made.” I said.

    “Well, she’s no trouble at all. Why don’t you just leave her here until you get them?” Dave suggested in a might neighborly way.

    “That’s really kind of you. It makes me sad she’d rather be here than with our two cows, but I’ve known all along they really didn’t accept her.”

    Dave put Gnatalie back in with her new family. Henry had gotten quite a ways with the boys by now so I bid Dave good-bye and hurried to catch up with him. Nick brought up the rear in the van.

 (Peggy, Gnatalie and Tucker)

 (Henry, Abe and Andy)

(Henry and the boys)

 (Andy on the way home stopping for a bit of grain- Nick driving the van)

 (Abe and the van)

    Here we were on a cattle drive with 255 horses. OK so we had the van, a girl can dream. I imagined Roy Rogers warbling a campfire tune. Henry walked on sans harmonica giving the boys little tastes of grain along the way. It was going almost too easily until we hit the pipeline trail; which was the route they took from our house to Dave’s. Abe and Andy stopped and almost pointed as if we were too stupid to know the way home. I might have gone that way, but Nick was driving the van and if we went that way he’d have to drive on Mosquito Lake Road by himself.

 (Abe and Andy - point to the pipeline trail where the silver gate is-)

     I considered that if Henry and I had any trouble Nick wouldn’t be with us and wouldn’t know what was going on. I decided everyone should stay together. The cattle complied and we all went on. I broke into a lame version of “Home on the Range”, imagining I was Mrs. Barkley. I figured Henry for Heath and Nick seemed the well, to be Nick.  We were walking and singing until we got to the road. It was then I could hear my sister’s words in the back of my head as soon as the cows spooked. “Cows don’t like a change in footing, that’s why cattle guards work.” I was still surprised because they’d been on the road plenty of times and had no problem. Of course, that was  by our house, but I guess for whatever reason in their cagey cow minds this was different. Very different.

    Suddenly it was cows gone wild. A cattle drive gone berserk. They ran up and down, racing in between trees, up the hill down the hill and then they were gone. Gone. Henry and I ran into the forest, and for a while we could hear them but we couldn’t see no longer see them. Suddenly, I realized we were in the middle of the forest without a weapon of any kind. We walked to the road and motioned for Nick to join us in the car. Only Nick didn’t see us because he was too busy listening to his ipod to notice. We trudged back and told him to drive back toward Dave’s.

    “You really think you’re going to find them?” Nick was in complete disbelief.

    “What choice do we have? I don’t want them gone for good. I’m worried. Thank goodness they have the bell.” I told him. “They’re lost in the forest. They could break a leg.”

    “At least Gnatalie’s not with them.” Nick said kindly.

    “Yeah, that would be a lot worse.”

    We drove back with our windows down listening for the bells. I got out and started looking at one of the forks. I figured I might see their tracks and determine if they’d been this way. I was scanning the mud just as a small car pulled up and rolled its window down.

    “YOU LOOKIN’ FOR THE OXEN” the woman shouted unnecessarily.

    “Uh, yeah.” Nick answered quietly looking at her as if she was insane.

    “THEY”RE UP THE NEXT LOGGIN’ ROAD!” She hollered again and sped off.

    I walked back to the van and we continued looking for our little lost cows. We took the logging road and ended up in a creepy deserted place filled with strange little statues. “Redrum” kept running through my mind. “Uhh, let’s go back to Dave’s,” I told Nick.

    “Good idea.” He agreed readily. “This place is hella trippin.’”

    “What are those anyway? Goats?” Henry asked hesitantly and “Who put them there.”

 (strange statues)

    “And why?” Nick asked. “ARE YOU LOOKIN’ FOR THE OXEN?” Nick started and Henry joined in. “ARE YOU LOOKIN’ FOR THE OXEN?” They screamed at the top of their lungs over and over as if this was the funniest thing they’d ever heard, until they broke into peels of laughter successfully breaking the strange little statue tension.

    By the time we got back to Dave’s, Abe and Andy were in the pasture calmly grazing on a bale of hay. We got out of the car and were chastising them when Dave walked up.

    “They found their way back and now that they’ve eaten, I don’t think there’s much chance of them going today.” He said. 

    “No I don’t’ either they got way too freaked out. We were almost home, only a tenth of a mile to the gate when wham. It was a cattle drive circus.”

    “Well, they can all stay here until we figure out what to do next. Anyway maybe we should try again in better weather.” He said brightly.

    “I can bring you some hay over.” I offered.

    “Naaa, I’m ok. Go home, get warm.” He said. “I’ll call a friend and see if we can borrow his trailer next week.”

    I wondered if he was smirking at the city slickers. No matter, I felt more inept than Billy Crystal at the moment.

 (Abe and Andy with their hay)
 
 

 

November 4th Little Runaway

 (fall slips into winter on highway 9)

    After a summer of long languid dusty dry evenings, it’s time to pay the piper. We wake up in the dark; we drive home in the dark and the rain. Nick is no longer confused as to why vampires are said to exist peacefully in Washington. He’s taking Vitamin D now to battle his constant desire to cuddle up in his Snuggie™ and go to sleep at 7:30.

    The endless rain and the resulting mud had gotten so miserable I let the cows out of the pasture. I was worried Gnatalie wasn’t eating because her little legs were too short to walk up to the hay feeder. The weight of the bigger boys churned the earth so deeply I was afraid she might get stuck or break a leg in the mud, so I let them roam around. I figured at this point Gnatalie was sufficiently part of the herd and the boys would take care of her. 

 (Miracle and Edward take a turn at the cows round bale feeder)

 (Gnatalie hears her name and comes a runnin')

 (Gnatilie on the way)

 (Gnatalie - giving me memories of Lefty and Pancho - but she doesn't even come up to my side mirrors)

 (On the other hand -Pancho a Milking Shorthorn- back in the day- his back obscured the roof line of my van)

    They seemed to really enjoy their renewed freedom, drinking from the pond and trotting around the property. One moment they’d be by the creek eating peacefully and the next they’d be across the pasture for no apparent reason. A few nights ago the boys and I came home and had just finished putting the barn animals to away and when we noticed there in the dark not more than a few yards away were Abe, Andy and Gnatalie. They’d bed down in the Kubota barn. Three enormous mammals were all lying there and we none of us had seen them nor felt their presence.

“What if they’d been cougar? We’d be dead. Dead I tell you. Ripped to shreds! What THE…” Nick started.

 (Andy, Gnatalie and Abe)

    “Nicky is right they are ambush predators.” Henry interjected. I too was amazed we could have missed animals their size even in the darkness. It was unnerving, but their quiet gentle presence made me think of the serenity of the Nativity. Entranced I walked over and couldn’t resist joining them. Henry, Nick and I chatted with them, pet and snuggled them. It was a magical kind of moment, and then we bid them goodnight and went in the house.

 (Gnatalie gets a scratch)

 (Gnatalie and me)

 (Gnatalie, Denise and Abe)

 (Gnatalie looks at Nick while she gets a little snuggle)


    The next few days, they bed down by the house. They seemed to be enjoying the company of the other animals and our comings and goings. We looked forward to seeing them, until the night the pesky equine, Edward and Miracle happened in like the mafia. They came in noses down pushing our docile friends aside, intent on taking over the territory. Gentle souls, Abe, Andy and Gnatalie gave up their beds and moved back down to the pasture bells clanging as they went.

     Tonight, when we got home, Henry hopped out of the car to open the gate and found a note thumbtacked to the latch.

    Scrawled in blue cursive was “I think I have your cattle at my house. I am just on the other side of the pipeline rd. from you. Call me – Dave”.

    “Someone has our cows?” I blurted to the boys.

    “What? They’re gone?” Nick said shocked.

    “Well, I don’t know, I mean I saw them the other day, but we leave in the dark and then we get home in the dark, I guess they could be.” I reasoned.

    “The bells, listen for the bells,” Henry said sensibly. We rolled down the windows, but all we heard was the wind blowing the leaves off the trees in the forest.

    “Have you ever noticed the wind in the trees sounds like a rushing river?” Henry asked.

    “I have noticed that and at times. A few times I’ve really thought it was the sound of a river. It’s kind of amazing. I don’t hear any bells. Do you? I think they really might be gone.”

    “What the hell. The cows ran away from home? Gnatalie! Where’s little Gnatalie?” Nick worried.

    “She’s probably with them they’re a herd now,” Henry assured him.

    My stomach churned as I dialed my neighbor Dave’s number. “Hello? My name’s Denise and I understand you might have my cows?”

    “Yeah that’s right. I think they’re yours. Two big guys and a little one?”

    “That’s them!”

    “I used to drive past your place everyday on my way to town before the bridge closed so I was pretty sure they were yours. One of them, the one with the bell.”

    “That’s Andy.”

    “Well, Andy broke into my pasture last night. I heard the bell. It’s a good thing you have the bell because I heard it and wondered what the heck it was. I went outside with my flashlight and saw him. He’d broken the fence to get in my pasture to be with my cow and her calf. The other two were just sitting on my lawn. I’ve never seen such friendly cows in my life. They just like to be pet and that little one. I just want to put her in my pocket.” He said with a laugh.

    “That’s them alright. I’m so sorry about your fence.” I said feeling terrible and wondering how I was going to pay for Andy’s escapades.

    “Oh that’s ok I fixed it. Now how you’re going to get them back I don’t know.”

    “Well, my biggest problem is when. I think I can get them home, but I just can’t go over and do it in the dark and I have to work.”

    “That’s ok I can keep them here and we can work it out this weekend.”

    “Really? That’s so nice of you. I can bring some hay by.”

    “Nahh, that’s ok I’ve got plenty of hay and I like having them around. The little one is playing with the calf, Tucker.”

    Well, thank you. I’ll give you a call and come by on Saturday morning then. I don’t know exactly where you are. I’ve never seen your house.”

    “That’s because I’m a mile back in the forest. It’s not hard to find, but I’ll better direct you Saturday. Otherwise you’ll end up at my brother-in-law’s place.”  As we hung-up I couldn’t help but chuckle.

    The phone rang, “What’s going on?” Tom asked expecting what I don’t know, but I assure you he did not expect.

    “Gnatalie and the boys ran away from home and are having a sleepover.” 

October 4th Heads Or Tails?

 (Gnatalie, with Abe and Andy together for a rare moment)

            Everyday when I look out on my pasture I see two beautiful deep red steer, Abe and Andy and then I scan the field for Gnatalie who is inevitably all alone half a field away. I feel like I’ve ruined her life. The boys tolerate her, but I’ve accepted that’s about as much as they’re going to do. I’m surprised, because I thought a female was a female was a female and with Anna gone they would latch onto Gnat, but they haven’t. Since when were males picky?

    Tom, Nick, Henry and I couldn’t take it any longer so this morning I called Susie at Pixie Forest Farm to see if there was any way we could swing a payment plan to add Veronica or Marie.

    Coincidently, Quinn had a soccer game near Seattle, so on our way to Lake Stevens, we met up with team Donaldson and took Phoebe with us to see baby cows.

    When we arrived Susie suggested we take a look at a little bull who was still intact and not yet weaned. “Heck if you just need a companion for Gnatalie then it really doesn’t matter if it’s a female. Steers are a lot cheaper.”

    “Cheaper is good.” I said open-minded as we walked over to the small herd.

 (Mama and new baby)

    “Oh my gosh they’re sooo itty-bitty,” Phoebe purred as she looked at some calves that were only a few days old. “I want to touch one.” She said as she tried to near each of the new babies, but they managed to stay just out of reach.

    “I don’t know, he looks a little like a pig,” Tom whispered. “Don’t you think? I still like Veronica better.”

    “And I like Marie,” Henry added. So after looking at the herd and getting introduced to Montana, one of Susie’s bulls, we headed over to Susie’s other field where Veronica, Marie were living.

 (Petite and her baby boy)

 (baby bull)

 (Montana with his curly hairdo)

 (Olive an unusually colored Dexter- she actually is olive)

 (Henry with Tom)

 (sniffing Henry)

 (Phoebe twirls around at Nick)

 (babies)

 (Phoebe- is 9?)

 Here piggy,piggy?)

    Veronica and Marie were as adorable as ever, but not nearly as tame as they had been on our last visit. Susie assured us she would be working with them again so they would be more people friendly when they’re ready to leave her.

    “The thing is, one of the reasons I don’t like Gnatalie down in the pasture with the boys is proximity. We just don’t spend the time with her we would if she was up in the yard.” I said.

    “It’s true, we just don’t walk down to the pasture and hang out.  And we don’t want her to lose her snuggliness. Henry piped up.

    Who’s that?”  Tom asked pointing to the black cow Henry was hugging. “I like her.”

 (Nick feeds the cows for Susie)

 (Marie chomping on dinner)

 (Tom is smitten with Veronica)

 (Henry and Maureen next to Ladybug - Gnatalie's mother)

 (Nick,Henry, and Maureen)

 (Nick, Henry & Phoebe with Marie)

    “That’s Maureen, I’d have a hard time selling her, she's wonderful but I have a completely different suggestion. Do you remember Petite? She was the mother of the little bull I was showing you. She has a problem with her udder during pregnancy it almost hangs on the ground and I don’t think I can breed her anymore so it’s either find her a home where she’s a pet or butcher her. And to tell you the truth I lover her so muchI don’t want to butcher her.”

    “Uh oh, Andy.” Tom interjected. Susie looked at me blankly.

    “That’s how we got Andy, he wasn’t originally part of the package, but they were calling him Hamburger and so she took him too.” Tom explained.

    “And Alexander,” Henry reminded us.

    "And Alexander.” Tom agreed

    “And Apache,” Henry interjected.

    “And Apache.” I agreed. Lord I was a soft touch. I could already feel myself leaning toward Petite. “Well, the thing I like is that she’s already used to people. I think it’s difficult to spend the time with each of them and I like the idea Gnatalie would have a companion she could look up to.” I rationalized.

    “But we really wanted a baby.” Nick said.

    “Well,” Susie started, “First off, I should also tell you Petite is Gnatalie's grandma and her baby is Gnatalie's uncle. I was thinking about you wanting a baby and thought maybe I could make it a package deal and send Petite with her little boy.”

    “Two? You’re going to get two?” Phoebe said wide-eyed and incredulous

    “I didn’t say that! And don’t you dare tell your mother that. She’ll lose it.”

    “Tell me." She said dryly. "You’re not at my house after she hangs up with you.” Phoebe said wisely.

    We all tumbled back into the van and headed back to Susie’s to see what we thought of Petite.  “Look I don’t think I want three Dexters. And frankly, I don’t know how much two would cost. I’m not sure I’d want them if she threew the baby in for free.”

    “Well, you’re the one who’d be doing most of the work.” Tom said rationally.

    “Do you still want Veronica?” I asked.

    “No. I really like her, but she’s got to be a lot more than Petite or maybe we should just take the little boy.”

    “What about Maureen? I like her,” Henry suggested.

    “Susie doesn’t want to sell her so she’s going to be a lot more money.” Tom explained.

    The phone rang. I knew it would be Lisa and Chris wondering where we were because Quinn’s soccer game was just about over. “So do you have a cow strapped to your luggage rack?” She said cracking herself up.

    “Uh, no. We’re not leaving here with a cow today.” I said confidently and firmly, knowing none of them were weaned and we couldn’t fit Petite in the back of the van.

    “How much longer?

    “We’re just going back to Susie’s other field to take one more look and then we’re on our way.” I assured her.

    “Okayyyy. See you soon.” She said with the distinct sound of doubt in her voice as though she really expected me to show up at Starbucks with a cow on the roof of my van. Perhaps not completely out of the question if I'm honest with myself.

    When we arrived at Susie’s I asked straight out, “What are the different prices of all these different options. You see, we have Gnatalie to think of, but we’re limited financially. I know Veronica and Marie are more expensive. Maureen, you don’t want to sell, so she’s got to be the most, but how much is Petite?”

    “Well, I want to make this worthwhile for you, so I was thinking of making Petite less than half of what it would cost to get Veronica or Marie and throwing her son in for free.”

    “A two-fer?” Tom snickered looking at me as though all choice had disappeared. He’s the one who made me get two kittens in exchange for getting rid of Leo the turtle. Now I did have a dilemma. But I know in the end, the purchase price of an animal is not how you can judge it’s real cost. We walked over and looked at Petite.  She certainly had a sweet face. The kids fed her and watched her baby nurse.

 (Susie and Petite)

 (Petite, Henry & Phoebe)

 (Phoebe and Petite)

    After awhile we got in the car and started north. “So what are some Irish boy names?” Tom asked. This was the kiss of death. I didn’t think there was any turning back once Tom started naming the little guy.

    “How about Max because his mom is Petite?” Henry suggested.

    The boys and Phoebe started brainstorming. “What about Shamus?” Nick suggested.

    “I like Shamus.” Tom agreed.

    “Phinneas?”

    “Finnegan? Killian? I actually know a tough, cuddly Killian." I joined in remembering my little student Sadie Buchenau's adorable brother.

    “I know, Aiden,” Henry called out.

    “Aiden? That’s a little All My Children.” I noted.

    “So were Stuart, Jasper and Phoebe Wallingford.” Henry said and Phoebe laughed batting her eyelashes.

    “What do you think of Clancy?” I said thinking of Clancy the clown in the Deck of Old Maid Cards. I have about six of them since my sister used to put them in my Christmas stocking year after year.

    “I like Clancy,” Tom said “it sounds friendly and it’s Irish.”

    “Are we doing the right thing” I wondered aloud?

    “Gnatalie needs company that’s for sure. It’s just which one.” Nick said firmly.

    “Nick’s right Gnatalie’s sad.” Phoebe pleaded.

    “She is Mom and you know it.”

    “And remember Petite is going to be butchered if we don’t take her. Do you really want to separate her from her baby? What kind of monster would that make you?” Tom asked. “You’d ruin her life too.”

 (heads and tails? Petite and nameless irish boy)

September 13 Nothing Much

 (Ron Johnson's own farmville)

I’d been letting the cows out into the open pasture where there has been plenty to eat all summer, but I’m nervous about Gnatalie roaming around and fall approaching the enclosed pasture is getting thin. The hay for the winter is on order, but Ron Johnson, my supplier has dedicated his trucks to delivering corn for the next couple of weeks. He said if I needed a bale before then I could certainly come down to Clear Lake and get one. One round bale should last at least two weeks, so Amy and I went to retrieve one in her truck. It’s a truck, but just barely. It’s what you might call a girl truck, but “Gunner Obama Carnahan” stood up to the test quite admirably. He’s been getting quite a workout lately what with swerving off the road to avoid deer and smashing through gates.

(Loading up)

(Amy and Gunner proudly haul the hay)

When we got back home the boys were awake. They got the tractor and together we unloaded the 500lb green marshmallow, killed poisonous arachnid hitchhikers and unwrapped our bundle. All the while Abe and Andy mooed relentlessly at the sight of lunch.  Gnatalie was a bit confused by the events, but stood by curious as ever wondering where she fit in. The moment the hay was in place and exposed the big boys went at it. Sadly, each time Gnatalie went up to eat they pushed her away. I know she’ll get her fill because they can’t stand there and guard the food, but we all felt terrible she’s been ostracized. We thought they’d embrace her not just begrudgingly tolerate her.

 (We unload)

 (Andy happily eats -Rachel- momentarily considers a snack)

“She has no friends,” Nick lamented. “She needs a friend, the goats don’t let her hang out with them, the sheep run from her and the boys push her away. Miracle chases her and Edward could care less.” He said commiserating with her as he scratched her forehead and kissed her.

“Yeah Mama, I think she needs a friend.” Henry chimed in. They were preaching to the choir, but I said nothing.

“Of course she needs a friend.” Amy agreed not being at all helpful.

(Gnatalie sniffs)

That task complete we started cleaning the barn. No wonder farmers had so many kids I thought wistfully, until I considered the farm mom position and the exponential amount of laundry required. I picked up a pitchfork and didn’t complain. Cleaning the barn is really fun. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You never want to start, but once you do, there are wonderful talks, laughs and songs. Everyone has his or her task, a shovel, a pitchfork or a tractor. This time, Amy made fun of Nicky-new-guy-on-the-block, taunting him for being “afraid of a little poop.”

 (Nick and Henry working hard)

 (Nick and Gnatalie take a walk)

 (Nick taking a tractor break)

(Mildred, Angus, Sheryl and Apache's hind end)

 (Curious turkeys - Franklin, Silence DoGood and Richard - all alias' for Benjamin)

(My Llloyd loves me again -preening)

 (Just before Gnatalie pinned Luther- poor Lu he just can't get a break)

 (Harpo aka Quackless, Lucille & Benny - the Cayugas)  

 (Bruno pounces through the wood shavings which are used as the bedding for all the barn animals)

We did more than half and broke for lunch. It was another hot day, but we sat in the cool shade of a tree on the lawn and enjoyed our sodas before putting the rest of the wood shavings in the goat section.

Our chores mostly finished, we decided it was time to sex the chickens they’re over two months old now. According to the books a two-month-old male is a broiler then a fryer and frankly a rooster is a male chicken over five-months-old. Roosters can be a vicious lot and we didn’t want another gory chicken attack. Losing Michael was enough. The farm rule of thumb appears to be one rooster to approximately eight hens.

Determining hens from roosters seemed like a simple task on the outset. After all every kindergartner knows what a rooster looks like but then again they’re taught sheep say “baaa” and that’s clearly wrong.

Cluck-Cluck crows and carries on as expected. He is clearly a rooster.  However, there are others that don’t at least not yet. Hens should be the plump ones without the combs and the waddle handing down. Or so we thought. It seems some breeds have a waddle and some breeds don’t get a comb at all. Sometimes females have both combs and waddles.

We began by putting all the chickens in the outside chicken run. Then one by one we assessed, scrutinized, photographed and determined rooster or hen. The boys went inside to boy’s town, not the place you want to end up.

After all was said and done we thought or think we have eleven roosters, but we’re just not sure. We’d like to keep three males, one of each breed so we could have chicks one day. The rest have to be terminated I guess. There isn’t much room in anyone’s barnyard for troublemakers. I’ll never order a straight run again. I’ll only go to the hatcheries that offer a pre-sexed selection, because this whole process is nasty. I wish I didn’t care, but I don’t want to ring their necks, and Tom has informed me he won’t. So now I have to do something to cull the flock. “I know I’ll put them on Craigslist under free stuff. Maybe someone will want them. I’m sure they’re good eatinin,” I said ruefully.

Now who to keep? After much discussion we think we’re getting rid of Cluck-Cluck because he’s so aggressive and keeping Julius Caesar over the other nameless Red Dorking, we’re going to have to see how their combs develop. In the Russian Orloff category we’re thinking of keeping Chestnut over Boris Orloff. In the Golden Hamburg slot we’re pretty clear we want to keep Armstrong over Speedy. We’ll see we want prime specimens and calm gentle birds.

 (Red Dorkings - Julius and No-name)

 (Girl? or Boy?)

 (Amy and some unidentified Golden Hamburgs)

 (Mrs. Cluck-Cluck)

 (Nick and Boris - who is -going to be someone's dinner - gentle with people, but aggressive toward other males)

(they're everywhere)

(Nick, Henry and Chestnut)

The warm sunny day begged for a trip to the pond and another visit with Gnatalie, plus a little chat with Sir Edward and Miracle who were grazing down by the dry creek bed. While we made our way over we realized we were being followed. Some people have a dog who tags a long behind them and some people have four dogs and a nosy-body goat like Rachel. Funny, she never used to leave the goatherd, but I think her daughter, Christina, has usurped her crown. Now the Queen Mum Rachel wanders around a bit by herself.

Suddenly a rock tossing-tossing challenge was issued. The goal was to toss rocks into Poncho and Lefty’s old practice tire the they used to haul around behind them when they were doing oxen stuff. Now it just sits in the pasture as impromptu seating and a mosquito larvae breeding ground. As I hadn’t received my softball throwing lessons from Awesomez yet I bowed out of the competition. Amy, though determined, didn’t have a chance. Henry won easily over Nick. A lazy kind of day, we made our way to the pond and looked at muddy animal tracks.

(Amy and Miracle kiss)

 

(Miracle wants to give a little smooch)

(Miracle mugs for the camera)

 (Amy tossses)

 (Nick tosses)

 (Nick and Henry checking out all the new life in the pond)

 (Henry messing around)

(Swimmy)

(Nick and a froglet)

(Nick takes a stick and tickles Rachel's tail - he's found a way to make her wiggle it.)

 (bear scat?)

 (closer examination of contents)

(Rachel follows)

On the way back, Nick found scat on the rocky path.  Fascinated, we took a good close look trying to determine what animal was traipsing around at night so close to the house.  Primarily made up of apple remnants we’re pretty sure it was a black bear who’d been raiding our trees.

This prompted the idea of picking apples and pressing cider. The cider press was wheeled out of the family room and put into position next to the wine rack in the kitchen. The boys went out and excitedly began gathering baskets full of apples. Henry cut while Nick turned the crank. Then Nick cut while Henry turned the crank. Apple chunks sunk out of sight.  The press was tightened with both boys using a 2 x4 for leverage. As the cloudy golden liquid with the sweet tangy taste filled the bucket, both boys gulped it down until they couldn’t drink another drop.

 (Henry chops apples)

 (Nick pressing cider)

 (Vivian watches)

After that, we did some laundry, the boys shot paintball guns for awhile, we put the animals away and Amy came over for our Sunday night family dinner.

We all sat down for dinner at the dining room table. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do,” I said, as I portioned out a Weight Watcher serving of spicy meatloaf for myself while “Deli is a real problem. Sure she’s sweet and lovable when she’s in the house, but she lures the other dogs off on her jaunts and then I have to hear her killing things in the middle of the night. The other night, she opened the door, let herself out and went out on a run. She was slaughtering some poor animal in the hills behind the barn. She’s like a serial killer, she doesn’t kill to eat, she just kills and kills and kills. Even a cougar will pass when it’s not hungry, but not Deli. When I heard the commotion I went outside and got in the van to see if I could stop it, the screams of the dying animal were horrible, but I didn’t have any effect. I can’t let the turkeys out if she’s on the loose or the ducks. I can’t contain her and I’m at my wits end. I am ready again to give her away.”

“Umm, I promised Andrew I wouldn’t get anymore animals,” Amy said softly, “but how about if I foster her?” Amy unexpectedly suggested. She can’t get out of the dog run by my apartment, and she loves coming over there. I think she still thinks it’s her house. I can take her on walks and.. .”

“Sounds great! What a fabulous idea!” I said cutting her off. I was so happy I couldn’t believe it.  She’d more than redeemed herself from the Gnatalie comment. “I can give you her dog bed, and supply the food. She can leave tonight. She’ll be excellent company and protection for you. It would be such a load off my mind you have no idea.”

I packed up a little package and a wiggly Deli walked over to Amy’s on a leash. Deli though a hound really prefers being an only dog. She’s shy and won’t ask for attention like the other pooches. Irish assaults you with his paw when he feels left out. Vivian bowls you over, Bruno races around leaping in the air and Luther bays, cries, whines or sits on your feet, but Deli sits in the distance patiently waiting. I watched them walk over and thought my father would be pleased.

The boys and I ended our weekend by settling into watch “Desperate Crossing The Untold Story of the Mayflower”.  Nick has American History this year and I’m going to pack in the learning one way or another. We’d just seen a whole segment on European prisons in the 1600s when the phone rang. It was for Nick. I could hear him giving the requisite teenage answers to questions about how he was.

“Fine…Yeah…It’s better…No…This weekend? Uhhh, nothing much,” he said absently.

“Nothing much? Nothing much?” I beat him with a pillow.

 (Emmet disagrees with Nick)

August 19th Cow Girls

  (enjoying the chicken show and the shade - Alex, Riley and Christina)

     We worked a deal reminiscent of a baseball trade, Beckie (on Lopez Island) was buying a couple of Milking Devons from Ruth who was buying Anna from me by paying Susie for Gnatalie, while Amber did the vet checks and Hannah all the hauling from Missouri and back.

    At about 10:30AM Hannah called and in a chirpy voice and told me she and Gnatalie were only twenty minutes away. Shocked as I was moving kind of slow, still shuffling around in my pajamas and slippers with hay sticking out of my hair. I sprang into action jumping into my coveralls like a crime-fighter donning a cape. I still had a few things to get things ready for Gnatalie’s arrival, but first I had to get Anna, Abe and Andy up from the pasture.

    Getting those chowhounds was actually the easy part as they’ll go anywhere for a bucket of grain. I was more worried though about loading Anna into the trailer. I though I could use a couple of pipe corral gates to form a chute. Henry and I were just gathering one of the gates from the pasture when Hannah happened up.

    Cheerful and confident Hannah with her French manicure, pink tank top and sunglasses, was quite a cowhand. Actually a barrel racer in a hurry to get back to Missouri for a rodeo, she was undaunted by my concerns over loading Anna. Too bad Little Chris wasn’t around I think he would have been smitten.

(Barrel Racing Hannah from Missouri)

“Oh it’ll be no problem,” she said as she whipped the twenty-four foot trailer around as though she were backing up my van. “We’ll just try and load all three then let the boys out. People have the most trouble when they get the cows worked up. If they just let the cows be cows they’ll be fine” she said with experience. “But first we’ve got to get your new little heifer out of here”.

    “I’ll take her!” Henry piped up.

    “Great, you can put her halter on and just walk her around” Hannah suggested.

Hannah opened up the divider and out popped fuzzy little Gnatalie. She trotted down out of the trailer sweet as anything. Confused and nervous she looked around. Henry called her name, hugged her then slipped her halter over her head and gave her a few berry treats. Gnatalie thought that was a fine How-do-you-do.

(Our first peek)

(Here come Gnatalie!)

(Henry and Gnat get acquainted in the Evergreen state?)

Now for Anna, the plan was for Hannah and I to go in with the three cows and move them toward the trailer. Tom was manning the gate. I went over the plan with him one more time to be sure we were on the same page. He rolled his eyes at me.

    “I know, I know” he said, “I get it”.

    “OK, I didn’t mean to offend you, but I figured I’d better be clear before something went wrong and had her horns in my face” I said.

    All three cows headed for the end of the trailer and were eyeing it cautiously. Hannah put grain just inside the entrance and for no particular reason Anna hopped in. Tom and I looked at each other in disbelief. Lickity-split Hannah closed the trailer partition and Tom closed the gate. Abe and Andy stood there wondering what kind of Cris Angel trick this was. 

    Gnatalie does not act much like you expect a cow to act. She’s my third breed and I’ve never seen a cow so brazenly curious, independent and brave. Irish, Vivian, Rat-Bat and Luther can run most cows around because they run. Gnatalie meets the world head on. Which is a little intimidating to a goat, a sheep and five dogs.

(Irish gets a taste of his own medicine)

(Gnatalie goes all Deli and tries to find a way out of the paddock)

(Gnatalie takes over where Edward left off  finishing off the goose pool - it no longer holds water)

(Gnatalie meets Christina)

(Bruno is amazed - little cow, little cow cupcake)

(Gnatalie is shorter than my pickets - a long way from Pancho and Lefty)

(Me and Gnat)

(Gnatalie's favorite snack)

(Henry feeds Gnatalie over her head to keep dominance - like reaching up for an udder)

(Henry and Gnat enjoy some quiet time)

    We absolutely adore her, scratch her and hug her. Henry goes in her stall where the two of them are snug as a bug, and Tom and I can’t get enough of her but Gnat wants more companionship than us. Her cries sound like an elk bugle.

    So far, no one really wants to be her friend. The goats think she’s too pushy. The sheep are sure she’s too pushy. The boys won’t let her sit with them, and the equine think she should learn her place. You see naïve Gnatalie simply did not understand a donkey’s need for personal space. As a result, Miracle bit her square on the nose and Gnatalie cried more hurt than wounded. Like any girl, she just wants to be herd.

August 17th How Now Brown Cow

    (Andy, Anna with downward horns and Abe in front - hear my calls and come running out of the forest)

     I’d brought Anna and the boys up to the barn with the assistance of my trusty bucket of grain. They came willingly and eagerly in fact, it would have been a one shot deal into the paddock if Fast Eddie hadn’t decided to play a little game of horse-around-with-the-cattle. I gave Quinn a lead rope and she held the prankster around the corner out-of-sight. And without another mishap in they went.

    A couple of sips of ice water later Amber drove up in her vet truck to examine Anna for the Health Certificate and Tuberculosis check required by Missouri. Amber and I quickly released Abe and Andy, rigged two pipe fence gates together with lead ropes and built a “clamp” type area. Shooing Anna in and rewarding her with another bowl grain. In no time flat Amber had the blood she needed from Anna’s bum and the Lucky Strike Extra, we got the halter on her. Little Chris Donaldson had failed miserably in his attempt to get Anna’s halter on after roping her ‘til she was overheated and breathless. We got it done in minutes without anyone getting too stressed out. Of course there was an eensie bit of bucking, and horn tossing, but truly it was minimal. I felt so Helen Reddy.

(Doctor Amber Itle and Anna in our makeshift clamp)

(Anna sporting her halter)

(Anna is pretty in her new ensemble)

    The results came back fine and Anna was issued her certificate and could now legally cross state lines on her way to Ruth. Every time I looked at her and the boys I felt like a home wrecker. They’d been together since they were born, hence all the ‘A’ names.

        I called Ruth. “I know this is silly, and you probably think I’m a real city-girl with out a lick of cow sense, but do you think they’ll be traumatized when Anna leaves?” I inquired knowing I was revealing my over-emotional soft under-belly.

    “Well,” first she is a real Devon" she started softly. I could tell by her tone she was trying not to be insulting or condescending. “You see, uh have you ever read “Animals in Translation” by Temple Grandin?”

    “No I haven’t”

    “She’s an animal scientist and autistic. She’s been responsible for many changes in our food system to make things more humane. You can really learn about animal body language from her”.

    “I’ll get it” I assured her.

    “You really don’t have to worry about Anna, cows settle down in the trailer and just relax after awhile. Once she gets here she’ll be in a herd of thirty. Cattle of all ages”.

    “Thirty! You have 5% of the world’s population of Milking Devon’s” I realized aloud.

    “Including her grandmother. And remember Anna's going to be a mother soon”.

    “Really, that’s why I’m doing this. I know she should be with so few Milking Devons around. And honestly, she’s just not the cow for me. She’ll eat out of my hand, but she’ll never let me scratch her. I want a pet cow.”

    “Uh huh. Speaking of that, this is how I see the exchange happening. I won’t be able to come due to work so I’m sending Hannah with the rig and the cattle for Dave and Becky first to Lopez Island, then she’ll go pick up your new Dexter heifer and then come to you”.

    “Oh, I’m confused, I thought you were sending one of your Irish Dexter’s”.

    “No. I only have Milking Devon’s" It sounded so elitest when she said it, "so I made an arrangement with a woman out there. Your new heifer is a bit older than we first discussed. She’s a year old, but she’s halter broke and used to being pet”.

    “I see,” I said, but my heart was sinking. I’d wanted a calf. The kids were all excited about a young thing they could snuggle and raise like Norman in ‘City Slickers’. “Is she black? I really want one of those deep black ones, I know they also come in a brown.”

    “She’s black. I’ll send you a picture,” she promised and I went back to work.

    I had to break the news to the kids that our new cow wasn’t going to be what we’d expected, but that perhaps it was better this way. I sold it. Or at least I tried.

    “Mammmmma, I really wanted a baby,” Henry complained, sounding so Angelina Jolie.

    “Well, maybe it’s better this way, what if we didn’t handle the baby right and she wasn’t snuggly. This way, she already is” I rationalized.

    Then I got the picture. The little heifer was adorable and I was surprised she was so close by. I was feeling pretty good about things until I read:

    Ruth,

 I have enjoyed talking with you. Here is the picture I got of the heifer this evening. She has been registered with the Purebred Dexter Cattle Association (PDCA), and her official name is Pixie Forest Ms Hannah. She was born on April 7, 2008. Her sire is Pixie Forest Montana and dam is N'ewe Life Anna. She has been haltered and trained to lead, although as I mentioned it has been some time since that was enforced. She has not yet been bred, but many Dexter breeders wait until the heifers are 2 years old to do, so she still has some time yet to take care of that. Feel free to give my contact info to the  other party along with the note that I now have other yearling heifers for sale, and will have some weanlings available around November.

    If you have an idea of when the driver will be in my area that will help me fine-tune my schedule. Thanks  for your business.

    Susie Hensrude

    Pixie Forest Farm

(the heifer)

    Of course, I thought she was adorable, but now she was a year and a half old and she wasn’t exactly sounding snuggly.

    “She keeps getting older and older. First she was six months then she was seven months then a year and now a year and a half? Is she done aging?” Tom said skeptically.

    “I know, that’s why I put a call into the lady at Pixie Forest Farm and we’re going down there this afternoon to meet “Hannah” and a little three month heifer. I told her we didn’t have to get her now we just wanted to get the right one. She told me her Dexters are like puppies and she wants them all to go to the right home, before we drive north to Lynden for the fair we’re going  south to Pixie Forest Farm” Tom stood there and for a moment I wasn’t sure what was going on in his little pea brain from the look on his face. I considered he might be annoyed at me for cramming so much into one day – again. He turned and walked out of the kitchen.

    “Come on Henry you’ve got to get going, we’ve got a big day ahead of us” Tom called up the stairs.

    “We’ve always got a big day, what’s new?” Henry called back and Tom shrugged.

    “Do you think we’ll like the older one or the younger one?” I asked Tom as we made our way down the I5 to Lake Stevens.

    “The younger one. I’m sure the little girl will tug at my heart” Tom said.

    “What about how the older one will feel?” I worried about her not getting picked. The truth is I wanted the younger one too.

    When we drove up, Susie showed us into the first pasture of yearlings. I couldn’t believe how little they were. “From Pancho and Lefty to this?” Tom said.

I turned to Susie, “Our first cattle were oxen, Milking Shorthorns as tall as my van”.

(Tom in the pixie forest)

   

(Our Pancho, the sweetest Milking Shorthorn oxen next to Lefty there ever was)

    There she was the one in the picture Ruth had sent, but it quickly became apparent Hannah whose father was named Montana wasn’t to be our cow.

    “She’s not very friendly” Henry noted. He was right; she was friendly, but not as much as I wanted to like her she just wasn’t what we’d imagined. “Who’s this?” Henry asked Susie about a heifer who kept rubbing her head against us to be scratched. She wasn’t really a contender because she was brown.

    “Oh that’s Natalie. Her name is spelled with a “G” because she’s so small. She’s Gnatalie like a gnat. She was one of the hardest heifer’s to win over, but now she’s really a people cow” And she was, she kept coming up and putting her head under my arm. It made me giggle, but honestly I didn’t want her she was not only too old, but brown. I wanted something else - I wanted a black one.

(Susie, Hannah and Henry)

(Susie, Gnatalie and Henry)

    “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” I asked Susie.

    “No not at all, Lu will show you where it is” Susie said. I followed her niece, Lu, out of the pasture. As I walked toward the house I heard a high-pitched sound sort of like an elk bugle. I turned and looked over my shoulder.

    “She misses you and doesn’t want you to leave” Tom laughed. I smiled. “You love her” he taunted me.

    I didn’t want to love her.

    When I came back Tom and Henry were ready to go meet the babies, Marie and Veronica. Tom instantly fell for Veronica. She was jet black and full of vinegar. Brave and daring she came up to us to investigate. Henry destined to deal with difficult women all of his life wanted to win over the more guarded and cautious Marie. They were adorable and so were their mothers, Sprite and Shannon.

(Henry woos Marie- how else? ignoring her - typical girl)

(Henry afraid to move a muscle or even smile in fear of scaring little Marie away)

    I knew what I was thinking but I thought I should ask Tom his thoughts.

    “What do I think? Who should we get, Hannah, Veronica, Marie or Gnatalie?”

    “Um, Do you want me to tell you what I really think? I think we should get two”.

    “Did you read my mind?” I snickered. Relieved I didn’t say it. Tom laughed.

    “We’re rarely not on the same page.” He noted.

    “We can’t get two though, so which one is it?”

    “Gnatalie, she’s already what we want. Marie or Veronica are great, but if they didn’t turn out like her, we’d be really bummed. She’s just what we want”.

    “I do love her, but She’s not just what I want, I wanted a younger black one” I said having a hard time letting go of my dream.

    “I really like the black too they’re beautiful, but it’s the Stewart-syndrome all over again” Tom stated authoritatively.

    “What do you mean, Dad? Stewart, Mom’s old cat?” Henry asked.

    “Yes, your mom went to get a cat,”

    “At Actors and Other’s For Animals” I interjected.

    “She wanted a dark, older female with long hair,” Tom continued.

    “And they had one, only she was mean and rotten, spitting and hissing and still I almost got her, because she’s what I thought I wanted. But my friend, Dixon was with me and she said I was nuts, because there in the next cage trying to get my attention in complete Disney fashion, purring at me reaching through the cage was Stewart. He was a kitten with short white hair. A boy. Everything I didn’t want, but exactly what I needed”.

    “Sooooo we’re getting Gnatalie?” Henry said brimming over with excitement.

    “Yep” Tom and I said in unison.

    From there we drove to the fair. We searched the barns for Irish Dexters, but alas, there were none this year. We did see the tail end of a calf being born and saw him stand for the first time as his mother licked him. We scanned the poultry barn for any of our breeds, but there weren’t any except a bronze turkey. There were one or two Oberhasli goats, no Leicester long wools in the sheep barn. We looked for our pick, the American Guinea Hog in the swine area, but none of those either.

    Henry had a “Moowich”, a homemade chocolate chip cookie with ice cream in the middle at the Dairy barn to support the League of Dairy Women. We walked around saw some incredible tap dancing brothers, but missed the performing pigs.

    On our way out, we decided to swing by the Dairy barn again and see the new little bull-calf one more time. To our surprise, the cow in the next paddock was in full heaving labor. So we stayed and watched the miracle of birth.

(just after)

(the new baby gets tended to by the mama)

(still bloody)

(Henry and I had a front row seat )

    Walking back to the car at almost midnight, Henry said, “Do you want to watch a movie when we get home?”

    “Henry!” Tom almost shouted. “We need so me sleep, tomorrow’s a big day” Tom said unwittingly.

    “I know, and the day after that?”  Henry taunted.

    “Well, that’s the day Anna leaves and Gnatalie arrives”.

    “And the day after that?”

    “We’ve got an appointment to see the kitchen we might use to process Henry’s Sweet Ass Honey”

    “My point exactly. So do you want to watch a movie?”

July 1st The Care Package

(Pumpkin bread wrapped and ready to go)

My Dearest little Hankie Pankie,   

    It’s about 11:30PM and I am sitting in the kitchen still in my coveralls. My eyes are heavy and I’m grimy from working all day. I can hear Irish tearing apart and unstuffing his porch cushion. He’s wound up and bored, because you’re not here. Emmett is watching Irish’s antics from a safe distance on the stairs. Rat-Bat and Vivi have gone to bed while Luther and Deli are snoring nearby. Gosh by the time you get this, you’ll have been gone almost two and a half weeks.

    I hope this package arrives safely. I’ve been keeping an eye on all the dogs all night so they wouldn’t get the pumpkin bread I baked for you. Irish kept sniffing the box, but I won’t continue to be outsmarted by a pack of dogs. Learning from the recent Father's Day Landjaeger debacle, I put it up in the cupboard where we keep the crackers.

    – I don’t remember if I told you, but you remember the wooden rosary you put around Irish's neck because he’s a sinner? Well, he ate the cross. So much for being named after Notre Dame.

(Irish after he chewed off his cross)

    Hmm, what else is happening around these parts? Well, Quinn’s been sick since she got back from California. Lisa said she’s just lying around all day whimpering. Her ffever before Advil™ was a 104.

    As you know, Alexis moved out. All seems well with him and I know you will see him often as as he isn’t moving far away. He’s actually going to be very near the Everybody’s Store on a piece of land called “River Run Farm”. It’s a kind of a commune without the religion. It seems there’s a 100-year land trust and a bunch of people share 80 acres, but don’t own it. They have a community garden, which requires a daily commitment from all the community members. If you move there, you can build a house, and you own your own house, but you don’t own the land it sits on. In order to move there Alexis had to talk to all the people and be voted in. I think it’ll be an interesting experience.

(Alexis surveying the bridge progress)

(getting the bridge ready to work on)

    Amy went up to see her boyfriend, Andrew and his son, Max, in Vancouver for Canada Day. She took Max a couple of new pets she found in the yard., Spot and Cuddles, seven-inch Banana slugs. Seriously, Amy is a whacked as we are. She feeds Cuddles and Spot the glidies leftovers. Amy wanted to stay a couple of nights at Andrew’s so I’m feeding the bunnies and the glidies. I don’t mind cutting up their pears, apples or sweet potatoes, but I really don’t like feeding live prey. They’re only crickets, but I feel badly for them as I shake them out of the little cricket tube. It’s not quite as bad as feeding the mealworms to your old turtle, Leo, but it’s close.

(Cuddles)

    Of course, with you gone, I’ve been working a lot selling cheese, pumping gas, filling propane tanks, making sandwiches and weeding the strawberries at the store. A lot of unique people work there, take Ben for instance. He’s worked picking grapes at the Mount Baker Vineyard; he’s made mohair socks straight from the wool he sheered from his goats. He raises calves and butchers them to sell the meat. And as if that wasn’t enough he makes cheese, has over 300 blueberry bushes and plays the banjo. Ben just played at the Strawberry Social. He’s funny really. He told me he’s “pissed off all the time. Everything pisses me off. So I got one of those goat bells and I put in my barn. It’s just the right height so when I go in and out of the barn in the morning when I milk the goats I hit it with my shoulder. And it reminds me ‘Ben settle down” He makes me laugh.

(Ben - with a weird light on him - sorry)

    I’ve been so tired, I’ve barely gotten anything done around here. I had so many lofty goals when you left, and I’m afraid I’m falling short. Today, I worked on cleaning the garage. I found, the marbles Daddy got you at Williamsburg, some books on tape I thought we’d lost forever (we can listen to them when school starts) and a bunch of your naked baby pictures. It was a three ring circus what with the geese curious about what I was doing, Christina and Rachel trying to eat the Christmas garland and having to battle Miracle for my Diet Coke. You know, ever since she had those Doritos she’s been completely out of hand.

(The geese helping with the garage)

(garage a bit tidier)

    Oh, the chicks and poults are finally coming tomorrow. The post office guy is supposed to call me when they arrive. We suspect it should be something like 6:00 AM. I’m going to put them in the laundry room for a couple of weeks before moving them out to the coop. I’m a little disappointed. I ordered Narragansett turkeys and Dominique chickens – then the other two breeds were filler to make the minimum 25. Unfortunately, I didn’t get either the Narragansetts or the Dominiques. I’m really disappointed. Is it silly to cry over chickens? I haven’t but I feel like it. I just wanted them for so long and now, I won’t get them. I can’t order another 25 and I can’t afford more if I could. Oh well, I’ll probably love them just like I love Rat-Bat. At least I hope I will.

(finishing stapling the wire on the chicken coop)
(Rachel - such a silly goat)

(Luther sitting pretty- safe from a goose or donkey attack)

    I let Abe, Andy and Anna out to run and play today. They seemed hungry and the grass was low in the pasture so I let them out. For a long time I didn’t hear Andy’s bell and I was worried they’d gone way up the mountain, but then for no known reason they suddenly came running across the pasture –  in the gate and over to their water. They sat down in the barn and didn’t leave the pasture again even though I left the gate open all day. Weird cows.

    Miracle let me actually put my leg over her today and sit on her back. I got a little nervous when she started walking around so I got off, but I think I’ll try again a bit tomorrow and see what she thinks.

    I hope you’re having a wonderful time and learning a lot of gymnastics. Make friends my sweetie, bee good and get some email addresses so you can keep in touch.

    I miss you more than Grandpa Horn loves butter. But don‘t worry, I’m not pining away, but I do miss your silly laugh, your dumb jokes, your smart-alec ways and your snuggly kisses.

    love,

        Mama

p.s. I don’t miss your stinky feet.

June 4th Cowboy Up

   

(Little Chris Donaldson riding Oz)

    Tom came in from the sweltering heat for another mason jar full of ice water when the phone rang. I answered it and heard, "Hey California!" only to realize when I heard the country twang that it wasn’t’ for me.

    “Pea, it’s for you” I called.

    “For me?”

    “That’s what I said,” as I handed him the phone. it was Little Chris Donaldson.

    “Hello? Oh! Hey Girlfriend!" Tom played in his little buddy voice into the phone as I listened to half the conversation.

    "Oh that’s too bad," Tom continued, "Henry really wanted you to be at his birthday barbecue. Oh, the Highland Games. Donaldson right Scottish. Do you have a grudge match against some Scottish family like the MacTavishes?  Uh, The Campbells? Figures. I bet you look great in a plaid dress. Hey sure come on over.” Tom encouraged.

By the time he'd hung up I'd gleaned the gist of the conversation.

“Little Chris has the Highland Games so he can’t come to the barbecue. You know those Donaldsons. Anyway, he wants to rope so I told him to come on over.” Tom informed me.

    Not long later Little Chris pulled up with a fanfare of donkey brays and dogs barks he arrived with his friend, Jordan and Oz, his horse. “Now is this OK?” He asked in his cowboy-shucks-way.

    “I think so, but if it’s too much I’ll just scream and you’ll have to stop.” I said hesitatingly. “I don’t want them to be afraid of people.”  So Chris rode out on Oz, the horse with no ears – well barely any ears, and attempted to rope the cattle. He tried and he tried and he tried but he couldn't seem to get that rope around Anna. She'd stay between the fence and Andy or she'd weave and dodge, and he'd come up short every time.

(Chris trying to rope Anna)

(Roxy watching Little Chris)

(A little action)

(Abe & Andy don't want to play and   to everyone's surprise - jump the fence from the pasture into the yard)

    “That cow's got you beat like you’re an old lady,” Jordan snickered.

    “Oz isn’t listening to me ‘cause we’re not in an arena,” Little Chris complained as he tried again to get the rope around his target.

    “This is the last time,” I said drawing the line. “She looks hot and tired. I know it’s great exercise, but I don’t want her getting hurt,” and of course, he got her. We thought we’d take this opportunity to put her halter on, but as luck would have it, she’s grown and it was too small. Yipee-ki-yay.
(Little Chris and Oz)

(Chirs and Oz cool down)

May 1st Heard the Buzz

   

(Bruno thinks he's a Rat-Bat-Cat dog)

     Living on our farm is like living in a clown car. Irish has learned how to open all the lever handles on the doors from Deli, so now he goes in an out like Lenny on the old TV Show “Laverne & Shirley”. I can almost hear him saying “Heeeeloooooo” in a Minnesota accent. The cats knock glasses off tables if they don’t get their way, and in general nothing goes as planned.

    Such was life today. In the morning, I carefully allotted my time. I made phone calls Tom asked me to make. I got a hold of Donna at Cedar Glenn Bee Farm and discussed the bee situation, got all the costs and told her we’d be down to pick some up late in the afternoon. I took my very first creditor phone call. I got my paintbrush out and set to work painting the black rails on the front porch while I returned various other calls. Alexis in the mean time was rigging the new gate, which is a one-man job right now. While I worked a bit I glanced down at the cattle. I figured I should let them out of the pasture to graze and thereby save some money. When I opened the gate they walked about four feet set their heads down and began chomping like four-legged lawn mowers. Happy with my efforts I went back to painting.

    At 1:00 PM I showered and got ready to go to town. I put on make-up and thought I’d stop by a couple of places I’d left applications and remind them I was available, before it was time to pick-up Henry and head to Stanwood. Alexis decided to go with me at the last second because he’d stalled out on the gate until he got a missing part of the hinge at Hardware Sales.
   (Irish supervises)

     “I’ll be ready in a second.” He said shoveling some pasta salad in his mouth. I laughed at his urgency and went to take a few things out to the car. It was so quiet. So peaceful, so calm actually too calm, too quiet there were no bells not a tinkle. I listened. No bells. I ran in the house.

    “The cows are gone.” I announced.

  “You’re kidding me. They were over by the shop.” Alexis protested. “I strung a rope across the driveway.”

     “It’s still there, but they are definitely gone.” I put my coveralls back on took a bucket and started down the road. Listening. Listening. Listening. Finally, I heard bells off in the distance then nothing.
Alexis came out and listened, but he couldn’t hear a thing. We hopped in the van and drove up and down the road with the windows down yelling “Abe! Anna! Andy! Who wants a cookie” Then we heard them a slight jingle at first. We parked and walked into the forest. “Little cows! Are you lost?” I called. Then jingle, jangle, and jingle they came bounding toward my voice trampling through the forest. They were lost and now were found. I gave each one a cookie and took their cowhides home.

(Denise in the forest with the cows)

(me taking my cows home)

(Denise -me- getting them back)

(Everyone back safe and sound)

    By now I was sweating and had forest debris in my hair, my hands were licked with cow spit, but my babies were home. We got in the car once again and headed for Henry. Listening to Isabelle Allende’s “Zorro” we made our way to quaint Stanwood, which is just about forty minutes south of Bellingham. Trusty Loretta got us there without a wrong turn.

    “Mama? I’m thirsty, could we stop and get a Sobe™ before we get there? There’s a tiny market.” Henry almost pleaded.

     “We can get one after we go, we’re already sort of pushing it for time.” I said.

      “Well, remember what Awesomez said when we went to look at the pigs. You don’t want to have to leave because I’m so thirsty and you don’t want me asking them for a drink do you?” He rationalized beautifully almost perfecting the art. I was rubbing off on him.

     “You make a good point I said remembering the day,” and pulled over.

    “Look bee boxes!” Henry called. Clearly we’d arrived at Cedar Glen Bee Farm Clusters of white bee boxes dotted the perimeter of the green grass. I pulled into the driveway, but didn’t know where to park there were so many vehicles in the small turnabout. We got out, but no one was in sight. Cautiously, we walked forward and were stunned by the sound. There was a low hum of zzzzzzzz. We stood in awe of a fortress constructed of small wooden boxes with screen sides stacked in walls loaded with bees. There were bees inside the boxes, but there were also hundreds of bees buzzing around the boxes trying to get in. Just then, a red truck pulled up. “Am I blocking you?” A woman with a three-year-old called.

    “No. We just go here. Don’t worry about it.” I called back and she smiled. She turned out to be Erin and her daughter, Vivian, they had just driven three hours to get their second bee box in less than a month. Now Alexis, Henry, Erin, Vivian and I stood staring and listening to the din when Mike, the bee man, came out shouting a friendly hello and walked about the fortress completely ignoring the bees so without further ado, we all did the same.

(The bees buzzing)
(bees in their packages)

(MIke and the bee)

    Mike lamented that his wife Donna was not around at the moment and that he was a mess figuring out orders, so instead of getting Erin’s pre-ordered bees he started teaching all of us about bees. Mike started keeping bees himself at age eleven and was an enthusiastic teacher. It seems bees have certain breed characteristics just like any other animal. The Italians without much surprise are a bit fiery and more apt to sting, not very good in the cold. The Minnesota Hygienic are a very tidy bunch of bees constantly cleaning out their dead and keeping their hive spotless. There are the both the New World and Old World Carnelians which are both gentle breeds of bees with good honey production and then there are the Russians. They don’t sting so easily, but the pesky Ruskies try to show you who’s boss by head butting you. Not my game. The Midnights, a cross between the Minnesota Hygienic, and the Old World Carnelians are the calmest bees.

    “Do you have any Midnights?” Henry asked. “I think I’d like to start with the calmest bees.”

    “No, I don’t I won’t have any for a little while. You live in the cold though so maybe you should get some Russians.” Mike suggested. “Come here why don’t I show you the queen. She’s just beautiful.” Without another word, Mike began taking the hive apart as we all got braver and more comfortable with bees flying about us. Vivian was non-plussed.

    “What kind did you get?” Henry asked Erin.

    “Italians” She said with a tone that made me wonder if she didn't regret her decision.

 

(Vivian and Erin)

(Henry, Alexis and Mike)

    We all leaned in looking for the queen. “She’s three times the size of the others and a gorgeous color. Once you see her, you’ll wonder why it took so long to spot her.” With that Mike dropped one of the screens and bees scattered in all directions. No one panicked and no one was stung. “I tell you, they say Russians aren’t that friendly, but I can tell you we wouldn’t have been so lucky if those were Italians.” He said with a deep breath. I looked at Erin who seemed a bit nervous. I suspected she might be regretting her order. “I don’t keep mean bees. If I have to suit up to deal with a breed of bee then I don’t want to keep it. “I expect an occasional sting, but not fifty.”

(a tray of bees)

    I leaned over the hive and ZAP! I was stung on my neck right below my jaw. “Yeow. I was stung.”

    “You were?” Mike asked as if I’d said I was hungry. “Don’t pinch out the stinger that releases the poison, just flick it away. They don’t like dark clothing, and dark hair over their hive, they think you’re a bear.” He said without looking up.

    “Here I’ll do it.” Alexis said.

    “Flick, don’t pinch.” I reminded him as he came at me.

    “Yeah I heard him.” He said flicking the stinger out of my neck. It hurt, but it wasn’t tragic. We all went back to searching for the queen. By this time, Donna, Mike’s wife, had returned and was filling orders. Mike took advantage of not being needed and taught us to identify pollen, beebread, honey and propolis, a healing property used in many ways. A few other people had gathered around to watch and see the queen. One man had driven seven hours to get his bees, another man and his wife were from Ferndale they were just coming for a new queen.

    “What bees did you start with?” Henry asked.

    “Minnesota Hygienic and Old World Carnelians. They both produced good honey. I had some problems and had to combine the hives.”

    “You can do that?” We were all surprised.

    “Yes, it’s not a problem.” He said as he walked back to Donna to get his queen.

    Although, Mike was not able to find the Russian queen he was sure she was there as there was plenty of egg production. The eggs were white. “On the first day, they look like a pin prick. The next day they lie down and look like a grain of rice, by day four they are a full “C” and then they’re born.  See this fuzzy Minnesotan? She’s just been born and she’s cleaning her cell.

    “She’s a newborn and she’s cleaning out her room?” I nudged Henry hard.

    “They only live forty-five days, but the queen can live about five years. The funny thing is, the last batch before the winter lives until spring. So they live about five months and no one knows what the queen does to them to get that to happen.”

    “Do you think she gives them Royal jelly?” Henry asked.

    “No one’s sure why the winter bees live so long.” Mike responded. “Ahh I found her!” We all leaned in.

(The queen is on the right at an angle - she is darker and much larger)

    “Yeow!” Alexis exclaimed as one swooped in and got him right beside his nose.

    “Hold still while I flick it.” I told him. No sooner had I flicked it than I could hear a loud buzzzzzzzz and with dread I knew. I knew a bee was caught in my hair. ZZZZZZzzzZZZZzzzZZZZZZzzzz  the sound pounded in my ears. Zap! I’d been stung again. Whatever.

    Moments later another was stuck in my hair. Not really interested in a third sting despite the fact that they didn’t hurt much I asked for a little help. Bystanders came up and started trying to release the bee from my hair and after some hair pulling they were successful.

    “It’s the pheromone,” Mike announced. “You see, once you’ve been stung you smell of the pheromone and other bees are more likely to sting you.” Huh.
(Me in my borrowed bee hat - third time is not the charm)

(Henry not waiting to be stung)

(Henry with a drone - they have no stinger)

    After about three hours of being around bees, being stung by bees, asking bee questions and tasting honey, Henry decided on the Old World Carnelians. 

    Mike took his bee brush and wiped off a 3lb package of the bees. He let Henry analyze a few queens. Henry wanted a big fat one “All the better to make lots of babies.” He said as Mike nodded in agreement. We were encouraged to get “Beekeeping for Dummies”, given an illustrated instruction sheet, recipe for mead and told to call with any questions.

(Henry selects his queen - she is in the queen bee isolation box Mike is holding and opening with his hive tool)

    “I think we want a couple of hats with the net" I said having no intention of becoming a pin cushion. "I don’ twant to worry about them in my hair anymore.” I felt Tom would understand the extra expense.

(Donna with my new hat)

    “Now you’ll probably only get about forty or fifty pounds of honey you’re first time, because they have to build the comb. When you’re ready to extract the honey, you can come back here and we’ll do it with you.” Donna said.

    “Really! That is so sweet of you.” I said. Mike smiled.

    “We love getting kids started. We’ve gone all the way to Seattle to help someone with their hive.” These were truly kind people, teachers, who wanted to serve. They loved the bees.

    Before we left, we got a bottle of raw honey, a lecture on not pasturing and a lesson on how to winterize the hive.” You’re going to have to come back in about a month or so though, cause you’re going to need another box and some supers. These are boxes for honey. The supers look like drawers in a dresser. They’re smaller and easier to handle, as the honey is so heavy. You get a queen bee excluder so she can’t lay eggs in the super and that honey is strictly for you.”

    It had been about fours by the time we drove away with our bees. Goats, Sheep and now bees wait 'til they hear about this at the Honda dealership 

    “It’s a good thing we got that drink.” Henry said. 

March 19th A Breed Apart

(Lloyd on left and Quackmire - on patrol)

    It’s one thing if my house is a bit messy and I’ve ignored my laundry, it’s another if my barn is dirty. And my barn is dirty. The last time it was cleaned, we put straw down instead of wood shavings; because it was so cold the pile of wood shavings had frozen into a huge wooden lump. Straw is ok in the short term. The animals snack on the bedding when you first put it in and it looks fluffy. However, it isn’t very absorbent and once the little critters start making a mess, you quickly have a thick urine soaked carpet you have to pry apart with a pitchfork. It’s not easy work, but it is relaxing and excellent exercise if you’re on Weight Watchers™. With every heave and ho you feel you're core tightening and your triceps readying themselves for tank tops. I was pleasantly surprised when I came in for a coffee break and the phone rang.

    “Hey, I’m coming out early.” My sister, announced from her cell phone.

    “Uh oh.” I uttered.

    “What? Isn’t today the day you wanted me to help with Anna?” She asked.

    “Yes. But my barn is filthy and I wanted it clean before you got here.” I replied meekly.
(Denise mucks)

    “Don’t be ridiculous, that’s why I’m coming early to help you muck the barn. I have my boots on, Charlie’s with me to play with Irish and I brought chicken patties for lunch, so we can make my version of the Jenny Craig™ chicken sandwich. I just wanted to know since you gave up dairy for Lent if you have any milk for coffee. I’m passing Dodson’s and I’ll stop and get some.” She explained enthusiastically. For being the younger sister, she certainly tries to take care of me since our mother died. She chides me at times and  pushes me into doing things like candling, but honestly without her I'd be lost.

    “I have milk, Henry needs it for cereal, he didn’t give up dairy for Lent. He gave up being a jerk remember?”

    “OK. See you soon.” She hung up and I went back to forking the straw out, trying to get as much done as possible before she arrived.

    On her way out to the barn, she had to navigate the band of bachelor geese and Matilda. Goosed twice by Cleveland, we decided he and Alfred needed to be incarcerated or we’d never get anything done.

    We tried talking over the din of honking flustered geese, but gave up unless we were right next to each other. I felt sorry for Miracle, the goats and my lambs. They are quiet gentle creatures and I couldn’t help but think these maniac geese were probably driving them crazy. Tom would have to help me build an annex for them so his girl, Miracle, could have some peace and quiet. Maybe in the chicken coop or where I planned to put the pig I dreamed of getting.

(Charlie & Winnifred - Lisa's dogs visit the farm)

    The morning flew; the sandwiches were delicious and just as we were about to go back to the barn after our coffee break to join Alexis who’d come by to lend a hand, Becky and Dave Heinlein drove up.

(Alexis takes over while we greet the Heinleins)

(Lloyd and Quackmire help)

    Becky and Dave had contacted me last month about possibly purchasing Anna. They live on Lopez Island in the San Juans and have a self-sustaining farm, growing all their own vegetables, raising chickens for meat and eggs and Romney sheep for fleece and meat. Their missing link is milk, which they hope to satisfy with a Milking Devon.

    I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to sell Anna, but I was open to the possibility. I had a deal in mind. Anna is a bit temperamental. Oh, she’s a great heifer and all, but she isn’t snuggly. Dave and Becky don’t want snuggly. They want a milk cow. So if they like her, they’d need to breed her so she’d come into milk and further, they’d have to breed her every year to keep her in milk. I’d want a calf. I dream of raising a calf like Norman, in “City Slickers”. A real pet. So if the day came when we had a camp, she’d enjoy being pet and touched by kids.

    All of this was racing through my mind as Dave got out of the car. I was amused to see him get out of his truck without a word and change from his good boots to his farm boots. This reminded me of the way Minnesotans live on one lake, but vacation on another. I smiled to myself, these were real farmers a different breed.

(The great boot switch)

    Lisa and I walked up coffee in hand and introduced ourselves.
“I love your hat.” Lisa said as she shook Beckie’s hand, “Did you sheer the wool, dye it, spin it and knit it yourself?”

    “I didn’t spin it.” She answered smiling. And with that we all walked down to the pasture to look at the Devons.
(Beckie & Dave)

    Anna, Abe and Andy saw us and came trotting their bells jingle, jangle jingling as they made their way over from the far end of the pasture. They knew I’d have cookies.
    I explained “I really wanted to give them more attention and train the boys sooner, I just got so busy when I moved here and had so many things to do, that kind of got pushed to the end of the list. I’ve made a lot of mistakes.” I admitted.

    “Who hasn’t? That makes you a farmer.” Beckie assured me. Dave and I climbed into the pasture to handle Anna while Lisa and Beckie chatted by the fence. Anna was on her guard immediately. She knew this fellow with the hat was looking at her a little too intensely and became skittish and flighty.

 (muddy Anna looking wary)

    “This is not a McDonalds moment Anna. Settle down girl.” Lisa explained to her. “I think she’s nervous she’s going to be served with fries.” She laughed as Dave nodded backing up and giving Anna room.

    “Well, she’s got a good top line and her eyes aren’t wild. She likes those cookies.” He said.

    “We just didn’t want pasture cows.” Beckie explained. I knew what she meant - cows that run to the far end of the field when they see you coming. These three weren’t that, rather they’re always curious and under foot.

(Anna a bit more relaxed chewing a cookie)

    “We love the breed and want to help preserve it. But we have to be honest with you, we eat the boys.” Beckie admitted.

    “I think Denise is OK with that, aren’t you?” Lisa said looking to me.

    “Yes, I am. Strangely, since I’ve had the livestock I’ve become more understanding about eating them. I personally, couldn’t eat mine, but it’s the sale and consumption of the animals that sustains the breed. Slow Foods is truly helping keep the rare breeds alive.”

    “It’s true. We just don’t want breeds that take special care, ones that can’t reproduce on their own, can’t forage. That’s why we’re getting Dorkings.” She said. My ears perked up.

    “You’ve found Dorkings? Silver?” I asked excitedly. “I’ve been looking for Silver, but haven’t been able to get any. Where?” I asked and she answered giving me all the chicken particulars.

    “Well,” Dave interjected, “I think this might work. There’s some semen I’m interested in from a bull who broke his leg and just got put down back in Vermont, Cosmo, he produced some fine heifers. If we can work the A.I. (artificial insemination) situation then we’re in business.”

(Andy having a snack)

    “Kulshan Veterinary Clinic is nearby, and I’m certain I can handle that end of things.” Lisa confirmed.

     “If I can just get a copy of her registration papers. We can see how we’ll proceed.” Dave said seemingly making a decision.

    “OK. I can go get them, just a moment.” I offered.

    “You can put your hands on her papers that quickly?” Lisa said with obvious surprise as she knew me too well.

    “Yes. I can.” I said feeling proud of myself as my filing system is certainly not up to snuff, but I do know where the important things are.

    “Great, If we can the A.I. situation handled I’d do it’ I’d like to breed her about June or July so she’d have her calf about this time next year and she’d have some nice grass to raise her calf on, we don’t want her dropping in winter.” He said looking at his watch.

    “I know you’re in a hurry to make the ferry, so if you want to get going I can send the paperwork tomorrow.”

    “That’d be best, thanks for everything.” They said in unison and walked off to put their good boots back on.

(Dave and his boots)

February 24th Night Moves

(bright light disappearing into the mountain)

    In the evening after Henry went to sleep, I pulled out my pink hula-hoop and started hooping. I figure I can’t do much exercise with an injured leg, but perhaps I can do a little something to tighten my tummy. I’ve always been a good hula hooper. The house was silent save my hula-hoop making the rhythmic swishing noise from the doodads inside it. It was relaxing really hearing the beads or whatever they are whoosh around. Whoosh, Whoosh, Whoosh then swish, swish, swish as I fought to keep it up on my hips. It gave me time to think. Think about the call I got regarding selling Anna to a couple on the San Juan Islands looking for a Milking Devon.

  (Abe, Andy and Anna)

I’d thought about selling Anna a million times, as she isn’t as cuddly as I’d like her to be. I’d proposed perhaps artificially inseminating her and making a deal to get her first heifer calf so we could hand raise it. They could keep any bull she produced. We’ll see. I thought about Nancy, the homesteader, who wants Cotton Patch Geese and interestingly might just have a few rare, heritage Black Java and Dominique chicks to trade. I thought about how Matilda is finally sitting on her nest full time and how and how Ruthie has now laid three eggs of her own. I was pondering Wayne moving out this weekend and considering how Henry was much like my mother complaining about low thread count sheets without even knowing they were low thread count ‘they just seem itchy and weird” I mulled over the idea of margaritas without salt. I was happily lost in thought when Irish started barking out on the front porch. He’d been banished there for snorting around and taking my spatula out of the dishwasher then using it as his chew toy. His barks were not loud frantic barks, but low rumbling growls. I let my pink light-up hula-hoop fall to the floor and decided to go out and investigate.

(Irish with chewed spatula)
(a swirling circle of pink light)

    Excitedly I turned the knob and stepped out on the porch. As I closed the door shutting out the light I suddenly felt like prey. I stood on the porch with my hand on Irish’s back feeling his body ripple with each growl. I felt vulnerable peering out into the blackness. Facts like “A cougar can leap 30 feet in one bound” came to mind. Yet, I was excited and felt safe next to the big guy. The barn light shining so bright made everything else seem inky. I followed Irish’s gaze. He was transfixed on one spot. Letting my eyes relax I tried to allow them to simply detect motion, I was going to be the predator, but I saw nothing. Half of me wanted to see Karen, the cougar come striding out from behind a bush while the other half hoped she would have the good taste to stay tucked behind some brush.

(Tom's non-functional flashlight)

    Frustrated, I backed up and leaned inside the door grabbing Tom’s super-duper-light-up-the-entire-world-flashlight. I hurried back to Irish’s side and flipped the switch. It was dead. Dead? How in the world was it dead? I’d charged it and put it by the front door for just such an occasion. Whatever, it was dead. I went in and grabbed the Home Depot flashlight. It was dead. Now I was getting annoyed. I went in and grabbed the smaller yellow one and flicking it on before I walked a step. The same – they were all dead. Without hesitating I ran to the laundry room and grabbed the smaller black flashlight everyone always makes fun of for it’s thready, spindly beam that’s just one step above a flickering candle. It worked. I hurried out to Irish who was still transfixed. My eyes needing to adjust again, I started sweeping the area for eyes. The beam dissipating into nothing as it reached out into the night. Back and forth I went with the light emphasizing the area to the right of the vegetable garden. I hadn’t thought of it then, but that is the start of cougar hill. It was just a flash, but I saw them, iridescent green flickers caught by the tiny glow of my flashlight. I tried to go back and pick them up again, but to no avail. They’d been right behind the garden. Was it Karen? Was it a coyote? Was it a raccoon? I have no idea. I tried for a while to search for more but when Irish lost interest so I figured whatever it was had gone and I gave up.

(Irish with the chip clip just before it was recovered)

(my little weight)

    We went inside and as Irish started gnawing on a dark blue plastic chip clip I picked up my three-pound neoprene weights and remembering the night vision monocular Tom had gotten me. He'd scared me, telling me I needed complete darkness and with the bright glow of the barn light I didn't want to whip it out with out reading the instruction manual. Now if only my reading comprehension level was just a bit better on Japanese electronics I'd be in business. No matter I'm sure I can watch some tutorial on youtube My thoughts began to twist and turn around as I anticipated the thrilling nighttime adventures in store.

January 27th Good Morning

 

(Hong Kong Fooey? - Henry couldn't resist playing with his best pal, Luther when we got home)

    I’d refused to get out from underneath my warm covers as I talked to Pea on the phone with my eyes closed. I wasn’t especially tired, it’s just the room was absolutely frigid and I didn’t want to leave my cozy bed. I could hear the rhythmic breathing of sleeping dogs all around me.

    “So are you awake? Are you up?” He demanded.

“I’m awake.” I lied as a purring Emmett curled up on the inside of my leg casting his evil sleeping spell over me.

    “I’ve got to go, today’s going to be a long day.” Tom said briskly.

    “I’m up. I’m up.” I lied again going back to sleep for another ten minutes before the alarm assaulted me. By the time I was singing my first “Good Morning” song I was beyond late. I woke Henry up and was going to throw him in the shower when I remembered the pipes were frozen again.

    Wayne had broken the bad news last night when we got home. It had gotten in the teens and he’d left the water on in two places just in case. Despite his efforts, the water was off in the morning. He’d gone down to the pump house and turned the pump off as I’d asked him to in the event of another freeze. I couldn’t afford another $1500.00 bill.

    I handed Henry some bottled water to brush his teeth. Pulled my navy coveralls on over my pink striped flannel pajamas, laced up my work boots, scooped my hair in a ponytail threw on Tom’s over-sized olive jacket, grabbed my coffee and we were out the door. So much for glam.

    By the time I got home my Nancy Drew instincts had convinced me the pipes were not frozen. It didn’t make sense. It was raining and the radio reported it hadn’t gotten lower than the teens. Last winter it had gotten that low many times and never frozen. Not wanting to be called an idiot or a girl, I checked the breakers before calling Marv of Marv’s Plumbing. “Do you have water out there yet?” He asked worriedly.
“Oh we did for about two weeks.” I said as I relayed the story of the new pump and my suspicions assuring him none of the breakers were tripped.  Never condescending Marv always gives me a few suggestions and things to check. “Sorry not to be more helpful I’m trying hard not to send you a bill.” He laughed.

    “I appreciate that. I might call and bug you again if that’s OK.”

    “Bug me anytime Denise.” I followed Marv’s instructions including calling B & C Well. We discussed breakers, well pressure and the weather. “You see, we handled the 24 days without water, we got good at it, but none of us has the mindset to do it again.” I said resolutely.

    After hanging up, I puttered around conducting my investigation. Armed with Tom’s drill now mine, I went to the pump house to check things out myself. The crisp air kissed my face, my cheeks turned pink as I unscrewed the door. I turned some switches and checked the pump pressure. Held my breath, and turned the pump back on. Gurgling and the sounds of rushing water. I stood hopeful. Wayne came out the door screaming. “We have water!”

    Crisis averted, I went about tending to the dishes and unpacking as the day slipped away. I heard mooing off and on in the distance. It seemed strange. The only time Abe mooed was when he wanted a cookie or when something was wrong. I walked down to the pasture to check things out. No cougar, they had enough hay. The water level was fine.  Abe looked at me and mooed louder. Like an American in Paris turning up the volume certain the French would understand him. He was trying to tell me something and believed I was too dumb to understand. Frustrated Abe mooed even louder. I was clearly being insulted by a cow.

(new square bales - just delivered)

    Puzzled, I went up to the barn, fed the goats, sheep, geese and Miracle. Abe mooed. For a moment I considered not bringing grain down. Maybe he was just throwing a tantrum. It wasn’t that cold, but I needed the steps and honestly I can’t resist giving them a treat. I figured that was what this ruckus was about. I filled the bucket generously and was pleased to see their dishes in easy reach. Pouring the grain over the fence I leaned in guestimating each portion. As is the protocol Andy was served first. Then Abe and finally Anna. Andy began eating. Anna was devouring hers but Abe just stood there looking at me mooing with his head in the hay feeder. I went over to pet him when I finally realized. His bell was jammed in between the 2x4s of the hay feeder.

(Abe's bell)

Poor Abe was stuck again. I wondered how long he’d been there as I unbuckled his bell. Afraid to move not realizing he was unrestrained, I yanked on his horns shoving him toward the grain. Thrilled to be free, Abe wrapped his fuzzy little cow lips around his grain with a vengeance.

(Abe naked)

    All this and it wasn’t even noon.

January 5th All's Well That Ends Well

(Life in an Ansel Adams picture -on the way to school)

     Day 24 –of our drought. The day Pea and Laura head home, school starts and the well-guy is coming to see what he can do about our water situation. I stumbled downstairs to find mouse guts laced with blood in a heap on the floor in the kitchen. An omen? Ignoring it I got my coffee and went back upstairs to inform Tom he should handle it.

    I pried a teary-eyed and reluctant Henry out of bed. He like every other child out there did not want to go back to school. Tom and I had heard last night how horrible he had it without any friends. “Kids roll their eyes when they get paired up with me.” He complained.

    “Maybe you try too hard honey. Your daddy and I knew a great guy who tried too hard.”

    “You mean Kenny?” He finished before I could.

    “Yes. Kenny. You should just relax a little. Stand back. Let the other kids be funny. Ask questions. People like to talk about themselves. It’ll be good practice for dating.”

    “Mom!” Henry blinked back tears. “Mom how old were you when you first had sex?” He said with more strength in his voice as he redirected the conversation.

    “Henry! That is none of your business.” I protested. Tom simply and silently rolled over checking out of this conversation entirely. Typical.

 Henry cried off and on during the night. Tossing and turning in his bed coming in our room every half-hour or so until he just fell in bed with us. It’s hard knowing you’re dad’s leaving again and may not be back until March. It makes my heart hurt to watch him in so much pain.

    Nonetheless, the bell was going to ring and he was going to be in his seat or my teaching credential wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on. When I got back Tom informed me he’d relocated a mouse he’d found alive in the dog food outside. I was relived as I’d seen the little guy a couple of times and wondered if he was the heap on the floor this morning. The well-guy was arrived minutes later ready to check out our problem.

(Checking out the pump house - warm and balmy)

    Naturally, he informed me it was “weird”. We had some power to the pump, but only 115 amps or volts and we should have 230 amps or volts I’m not sure which. An electrician I’m not. He couldn’t figure out why we’d have that much and where it was finding a ground. After a bit of water sleuthing he determined the problem to be in our well itself.

    This presented a few new problems. One, our well is 80 feet deep and he couldn’t get it out by himself, it seems this is inordinately deep most are 40 feet. Two, he hadn’t anticipated “This much snow! I didn’t expect this. I’ve got to call my partner. You see I’ve got to be able to drive down into the pasture and I can’t even get up your driveway without chains. I didn’t bring any because there isn’t any snow in town.”

    “Do you want a cup of coffee while you wait?” I inquired trying to be civilized.

    “No. No. I’ve got paperwork to do in my truck. Thanks” and off he went.

    The next thing I knew two other guys were there and he had his chains on. They got down to the pasture, but the snow was so deep we couldn’t open the gates.

(The guys digging the gates open)

(Stuck!)

(Checking out the action)

After digging those open he drove in only to get stuck with a high middle. It seems the ground had thawed underneath. Abe, Andy and Anna were very curious about this new development. The guys eventually dug the truck out and all I could think of was how much this was costing me.

  (Tom and Laura leave)

While they were doing their thing, Tom and Laura were packing up and driving off. I guess it was good I had this to tend to or I’d have been in tears just like Henry. Before he left though, Tom cashed in some frequent flyer miles and booked a flight up in two weeks so we could all go to Henry’s meet on Bainbridge Island.

 
    Once they realized the truck wasn’t going to get to the well, I thought they’d leave and come back another day. Nope, these were hardy fellas.

    “We’re here now and we’re going to get you water. My other half would be staying at a luxury hotel by now. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re still laughing.”

    “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want you to leave.” I insisted. Perseverance pays off, they worked until they were successful. It seems the pipes froze in several places. First to the shop, then to the house, but the real problem was they froze from the well to the pump house. The pump doesn’t have a shut off valve and it continued pumping until it burned out. Seven hundred dollars and a new pump later we had water. I felt stupid. I guess if I’d turned off the pump the moment the pipes froze this wouldn’t have happened.

(Having to keep shooing the curious cows away the guys worked until it was done)

    “Don’t feel too bad, this has happened to a lot of people and if they only froze from the pump house to your house it would have been fine. You see, we only bury our pipes two-feet down here.”

    “Oh, I see. I lived in Minnesota and they bury them six feet there.” I said not feeling any better.

    “We don’t expect Minnesota-cold here.” He said practically.

    When I first heard the gurgle of water run through the pipes under the house my heart leapt. I held the flashlight while Mike, the well-guy, turned the valve and voila! We could shower!

    “How much do I owe you?” I said hesitantly.

    “I’ll bill you.” He said with a wave. I wanted to hop in a hot shower, but it was time to go get Henry.

    He was standing by the gym, our appointed meeting place, waving and beaming when I pulled up. “Sorry I’m late. How was school? Did you pick one kid to ask over?”

    “School was great! I was talking to another kid whose mother is also late a lot.”

    “I am not late a lot.” I said defensively.

    “I didn’t mean – any way – you know the kid I told you about who usually rolls his eyes when he gets paired up with me, well he actually asked me to be his partner today! And you know what else I wasn’t the only kid who didn’t want to go to school today. I felt better about that.” Henry blurted.

 “You know what else? We have water!”

    “We have water? We have water! Yipeee! We don’t have to see each other’s pee anymore? This is great day. Except for Daddy and Laura leaving.”

    “I have news on that too. Daddy’s coming back in two weeks for Bainbridge and Laura’s coming to Las Vegas for your meet.”

    “Mom can I celebrate with a hot bath when we get home? I want to use my tangerine scrub I got for Christmas.”

December 18th When You Give A Cow A Cookie

    (Needs the shutters Pea!)

    When Pea called this morning I dreaded poking a toe out of my warm covers. I slipped on my wool socks raced downstairs pushed the button for the coffee and turned up the temperature from 56 to 64 degrees and ran back to bed for another hour. Today school was delayed again so we had plenty of time to take care of the animals, load the waffle project and the waffle iron into the car and get to school on time. The drive was dicey once we got to Mt. Baker Hwy. Large puffy flakes were beginning to fall fast and furious the closer we got to Bellingham.

    Henry excitedly bid me goodbye as he happily marched off to present his project. I met up with Lisa and Annie and together we ran to get Henry’s new glasses from the optometrist then to Trader Joes™ for some necessities. Actually, I did have to select foods that require little water or clean up as we’re going on day 4 with frozen pipes.
(From what I hear this could this be Trader Joes in Malibu - instead of Bellingham)

    Chris called Lisa while we were grabbing some lunch and said, “If Denise wants to get home tonight she better get going. People are leaving work now if they live in Sudden Valley and that’s not as far as Denise has to go.”

    “Really? Henry has a horn lesson after school, I guess I’ll just call Kevin and cancel it.” I said more to myself than anyone else.

    “Actually, look around you. I think we should pick the kids up now. That guy over there tried to take a left at 35mph. It’s not going to be safe in an hour or two.” We all agreed it was probably the prudent move.

    After Henry piled in the car yapping excitedly about the waffle party his teacher agreed to on Friday we didn’t get two miles before we had to pull over and put chains on.
(Henry and I master the snow conditions)

(Middle schoolers enjoying the weather)
(Bellingham under a blanket of snow)

(along Mt. Baker Hwy)

(Church in Deming)

(Snowmobiling down Mosquito Lake Road)

    The ride home was slow, but uneventful – until we discovered one of the chains had snapped. The other snapped in the driveway leaving me unable to get up the hill. So Alexis and I used our tried and true tractor-rescue method and got the Odyssey up near the barn.

(pulling with the chain and Jeep again)

    It snowed and it snowed and it snowed. In the morning a sparkling white blanket covered everything transforming it into a winter wonderland. All the animals were fine, but the geese opted for spending the day in the barn.

(back to bed)

(Henry pulling down snow from a tree limb)

    Henry and I decided to go sledding and take a walk with the dogs to the pond. So I released the hounds even Deli. And about as predictably as you can get she was gone up Cougar Hill without one Disney-look back over her shoulder Irish was right behind her. I picked up Rat-bat dog, Bruno and sent Luther back into the house for fear they’d follow Deli, never to be seen again.
(Rat-bat-dog "Bruno", Vivian and Luther enjoy the snow)

(Deli takes off)
(Bruno is about as tall as the snow is deep)

(Irish gets his freedom)

(And there she goes)

    Vivian stayed with us and had a great time. We fooled around at the pond checking out the lone Canada goose honking sadly for his or her gaggle. I think it was left behind because of a bum wing. We decided to bring it some food tomorrow.

(If you look closely to the right in the water is the Canada Goose)

(Vivian the snow monster)

    On the way back, Abe got annoyed we weren’t delivering grain or cookies and despite the board Alexis put up he bust through the feeder right as Henry threw a snowball at him. 

(And out he comes through the feeder- Abe)

(From the pasture - our winter wonderland)

(Abe in search of cookies)

Abe high-tailed it to the barn because he now knows where I keep the cookies. After a little playtime with Henry and a snack he went back to the pasture happily. Or so we thought, just as he was about to go through the gate you could just about see the light bulb go off in his head as he remembered the cookies in the barn. He spun around and trotted right back up the hill to the bag. He was in the barn and had his head buried in the bag when I got there. He had a couple more cookies and went in for the night.
(Abe gets his snack)

(Henry plays tug of war with Abe- Abe wins)

(Henry and his cookie loving cow)

    Henry took a few runs on the Cougar Hill sled run. He’d spent the better part of the afternoon grooming it and wanted to take a few more runs while I fed the animals. As he was finishing up who should come meandering back after four hours but our canine Lewis & Clark.
(Cougar Hill - formerly known as Coyote Hill)

December 15th Clothes Horse?

(our first snowfall this winter - the house in need of the black plank shutters Tom is going to make when he "has time")

    I woke up this morning to find that, due to extreme cold, all Bellingham Schools had been delayed two hours. I looked at the temperature: 7 degrees, much colder than we ever got last year. I began to worry about the animals. Really worry. If it’s 7 degrees now, how cold was it last night? Would they all be alive this morning? I know they’re animals and, except for the geese, none of them go south for the winter, but this was an extreme drop in temperature. I thought of the geese huddled together. Were they like penguins, taking turns being on the outside of the huddle?

    Riley is over a year old now, but would the goats be able to withstand such a drop? They weren’t dressed in wool like the lambs. I wasn’t too worried about the lambs, as their wool has come in nicely since the shearing. And what of Miracle? None of the other animals snuggle with her. True, she has more body mass, but 7 degrees?

    I went to make some coffee and call Lisa. Certainly, she’d have some thoughts on the subject. She’d tell me not to worry – I thought. I turned on the faucet and, after a stutter and hiccup, a tiny trickle came out and then stopped. Our pipes had frozen. My mind reeled. This had so many ramifications. I couldn’t make coffee. No coffee and no shower, when I more than desperately needed a shower yesterday. It’s not often I do my hair for the cows, but I do try to stay within social norms. Good thing it’s hat weather. Frozen pipes? No coffee? We’d turned on the light and even added a heater to the pump house. No coffee? The pipes must be frozen somewhere else. I worried again about who would be alive in the barn when I got there. I didn’t want to go. I stalled, went upstairs and woke Henry, preparing him for what I might find in the barn.
(not much snow, but blue skies and cold, cold, cold)

    Lisa had cautioned me about the importance of the animals'  water. She warned me that the temperature has to be brought up somewhat or they won’t drink enough, even if they can. “After all, who likes to drink ice water when they’re freezing?” she said practically. I’d brought a bucket in last night to heat up some water and take it to the barn to warm up their water. Seeing as the faucets weren’t working, I went to the toilet tank. I took off the lid and started bailing out water with a mason jar. I heated the water on the stove in my cast iron pot, while I rooted around the house until I found a discarded cup of coffee from yesterday. Tossing it in the microwave, I threw on Pea’s red robe with the tattered tie, slipped into my blue duck boots, put on my brown leather rain hat with the chin strap (the one Wayne calls my “Indiana Jones” hat), and made my way out to the barn with my stale, but steaming, cup of coffee in one hand and my bucket of boiling water in the other. I was trudging along just about at the chicken coop when I heard the glorious sound of Miracle braying “Good Morning”. She was alive! Relief went through me and I walked a little quicker.
(Angus, Sheryl and Mildred getting their fleece back)

(Apache wants attention)

    Once inside, I began counting animals and was relieved to find everyone alive, though sluggish from the cold. Their water buckets had more than an inch of ice. I couldn’t imagine how cold it must have been. The geese’s metal water dispenser was a solid ice cube. I shuddered at the night they must have had. Animals might be able to survive like this, but these are my babies, my responsibility. I couldn’t stand it. Money or no money, they weren’t going to spend another night like this.

     Chipping away at the ice layer until it was clear, I poured the boiling water into the water bucket. Then I fed everyone and went down to the pasture to give Abe, Andy and Anna an extra serving of grain. Before we left for school I wrote Alexis a short note explaining the water situation. We were going to have to do something because the animals needed more water and I draw the line for their well-being at Evian. A bucket brigade from the pond was the most obvious solution

(loafing shed for cattle)

    After I dropped Henry off, I met up with Lisa and we headed to the feed store. We were lucky enough to find a water heater for the cows' 200-gallon tank and a smaller one for the barn animals, but I’d have to change their water bucket. We realized I still had the big black tub the goslings used when they lived in Henry’s room. While I was at the register, Lisa started looking for dog collars and I struck up a conversation with the gum-chewing, blue eye-shadowed girl who was ringing me up. I told her how worried I was about the goats, despite what everyone said. She looked up sheepishly, and said, “I just bought my Nubian a coat.”

    “You did!? Where did you get it? I wanted to get coats for my goats last winter, but everyone laughed at me.”

    “Me, too, but I feel better. Mine are pets. I got it here. A lady came in and said she’d bought a dog coat and it fit her goat. So I bought mine and it fit even my Boer. What do you have?”

    “Oberhasli. Nubians are kind of small. My son, Henry, wanted a Nubian. He thought they were dolls.”

    “They are,” she agreed authoritatively.

    “But Boers are big. Which aisle?” I queried. She pointed me in the correct direction and, after her next customer, came over and helped Lisa and me sort through the coats. Once we’d determined the appropriate sizes, there was the matter of color. I simply couldn’t put Alexander in pink; he’s already a wether and I don’t think his ego could take it.

    After purchasing my wares, Lisa and I parted company as she headed off to Costco and I hit two more feed stores looking for a coat for Miracle and something to give the geese water. After finding both items lickety-split at Laurel Feed Supply, I shoehorned in a conversation at the register about possibly piggy-backing an order of Silver Dorking and Black Java chicks and maybe a couple of turkey poults with theirs. The woman said she’d look into it and took my number. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
(Alexis - heaven sent - on water patrol)

    I raced home with my packages, eager to get everything set up. When I got there, Alexis was already bringing pond water to the barn in 5-gallon buckets in his trusty Jeep™. He filled up the new water container for the goats, sheep and Miracle, while I unloaded the feed, set up the water heaters and screwed the hook in place to position the geese’s new, heated bucket snugly between two studs. (the water heater assembled. Gray protective coating around wiring - cage around heating element - so plastic buckets won't melt)

(the transferring of water)
(cows' water trough with new heater)

(cord heats up entire bucket)

    Finally, it was time to dress the goats. I started with Rachel; she’s the queen and, if she does it, the rest are more likely to follow along. Her coat fit pretty well, if a tad tight around the girth. Other than that, she didn’t seem to mind it at all. Next came Christina, then Alexander and finally Riley. Alexander bucked a couple of times, but a few packer pellets calmed him right down.

(Riley in his orange coat to match his collar)

(three goats in coats - Rachel pink, Riley orange and Alexander red)
(Alexander)

(the sheep - Apache, Angus, Mildred and Sheryl - and the geese opt for natural fibers to keep warm)

    Imagine, if you will, trying to get a spooked, stubborn little girl to try on something she doesn’t want to. Now, imagine she can beat you up. At first, Miracle ran from the coat. I put it down on the snow and walked away as if she weren’t there. She came up and sniffed it. I came back. It was a few times around the pen before she let me slide it over her back. Hooking it was going to be another matter entirely. I was nervous. I didn’t want her to launch one of her missiles in my direction. So, I stood there talking to her. “Shhh, Miracle, it’s ok. I’m just going to hook this around your tummy. It’s not going to hurt. It’s going to keep you warm. I’m just going to tighten up your belt so it hangs properly. Purple actually looks very nice on you. You must be a winter because you look stunning in true red. You look lovely. No, it doesn’t make you look fat at all. Don’t be an ass.” I got all the hooks done except the last one. I was supposed to hook it under her tail. Seriously. Under her tail. This is a little like “Pin the Tail on the Donkey”.  Well, if she was longer it would go under her bell, but she isn't, so I slowly and gently pulled her tail up as if I were dealing with nitroglycerin. I moved delicately. All the while, Miracle was holding her hoof ready to kick out if things didn’t feel right. Luckily, she looks swanky in her royal purple blanket and I don’t have any bruises to show for it. (Miracle prancing around with her price tag on like she's Minnie Pearl)

(the challenge)

(Miracle - wondering if she looks like an ass?)

(I 'm alive; I win!)

    When everyone had their jammies on, I went to get Henry to shuttle him to gymnastics and buy 17 gallons of water. My phone rang. It was Mike.

    "Did you get the water taken care of?" he asked, concerned.

    "Yes, and I got the goats some coats and fed the cows some oats," I unwittingly rhymed.

    "What?"

    "I said, I got the goats some coats," I repeated.

    "That's what I thought you said. I couldn't believe my ears. I never imagined you got the goats coats. I thought It sounded like you were reciting a Dr. Seuss." We both laughed. I guess it did.

    When we got home, I microwaved some of the water to wash my face and poured the rest over my head in the sink to wash my hair. I had forgotten that the water had sat for three hours in cold storage in my car. Ruing I hadn’t microwaved more water, I stood in the bathroom wondering how long this was going to last. I eyed the bathtub. We could heat up the kettle and fill the bathtub. The colonists stank up all thirteen colonies since they rarely bathed. Perhaps I'm being historical.

December 12th, 13th & 14th Much Ado About Nothing

(Pea in his tree beard from the Christmas party - and, yes, those are presents hanging down - I still prefer the candy cane beard of years past - but an ok entry)

      My hands stiff from the cold and covered in mud from mucking the stalls, I called Tom to ask his opinion about something. There was laughter on the other end of the phone as he talked to other people in his office. They were regaling each other with tales of  last night's Christmas party. I imagined them warm and dry, dressed in nice clothes, eating bagels with cream cheese, drinking coffee. I longed to climb through the phone line and sit down with them for just a few cups.

     Here, the last several days we’ve had predictions of a mammoth-sized blizzard. So Wayne, Alexis and I have been trying to get everything in place to be ready. Alexis built the generator shed so we could use the generator and keep it out of the elements. Wayne brought in wood and I prepared the barn, putting in extra bedding for all the animals.
  (Voila! The new generator shed. Ok - it needs painting, but it's too cold for paint)

(Wayne and Alexis heave the generator into place)

    To make double dog sure the pipes wouldn’t freeze I unscrewed the door on the pump house and  installed a new light, which is usually enough to keep the pipes warm. Alexis got panes to replace the broken ones in the barn windows, so the 60mph winds we were expecting wouldn’t blow through the place.

(the well's pump house - ok, ok, ok it needs paint, too, and shingles and the junk taken away)

(loafing shed with straw)

    We took straw down to the cows' loafing shed as frozen ground isn’t too comfortable or warm. We also spread straw across the hayloft as a bit of insulation. In general, we felt pretty prepared.

    All that being done, I bought supplies and invited the girls to spend the night. We thought we’d make a fire, finish the Christmas tree and watch a double feature; then go inner tubing down Cougar Hill (formerly known as Coyote Hill) in the morning.

(Our homespun Christmas tree with its lights on - Quinn said it looked like a tree in a magazine article on how to do something "different" for Christmas)

(Henry falls asleep on Irish)

     We waited, we watched, we peeked out the windows, but no snow, no wind, nothing. We finally went to bed after watching "Roxanne" with Steve Martin and “Somewhere In Time” with Christopher Reeve. In the morning I looked out the window expecting a white glistening blanket. Still nothing. 

     All day we waited. Henry worked on a report for science. He had to research how a machine works, learn the history of the machine and demonstrate its operation.  Baker-boy chose the waffle maker. About 4:00 snow started fluttering down, swirling around in the air, some of it sticking to the ground. By morning, we expected a thick blanket of glistening white. But no.
(Henry works on his waffle project)

    It’s true the next morning we had snow, all right, but only about an inch and a half. Weeds stuck up out of the snow, marring my Bing Crosby-type expectations. Nonetheless, when I went to the barn I eagerly opened the goose pen. This was the first snowfall for Lloyd, Mabel, Clara, Cleveland, Quackmire, Matilda, Ruthie and Alfred. I opened the barn doors wide and waited. They looked outside and just stood there, honking. I led the way, but they just stood there, still honking. I called them “Hey, hey, hey, little geese, hey, hey, hey”. They perked up, knowing Mama was calling. Out they came, stomping around with their built-in snowshoes. One, two, three steps and they all sat down. They didn’t like it. They didn’t like it at all. I called them again. “Hey, hey, hey, little geese, little geese!” They perked up, looking for me, and once again got up and, “thwap, thwap, thwap,” they plodded along on their silly feet. And then they sat down. Surprised, I walked back into the barn and fed the rest of the critters. As I was throwing a flake of hay over the top of the wall, aiming for the feeder across the room in an attempt to save a trip into the pen and reassure myself I could still sink one, I practically tripped over eight good-for-nothing geese too afraid to stay outside. But I still made it – two points.

(the little geese see their first snowfall)

  (Cleveland makes tracks)

(everyone tracks)
(the boys - white - and the girls - gray)

(Clara gets some height!)

(more sitting)

    I walked out to the pasture. Beyond the gate, where the dog tracks stopped there was undisturbed beautiful snow. I found the cow dishes and filled them with a healthy amount of grain. Extra calories equal extra heat during a cold night, which reminds me of those Campbell’s soup commercials where a fairly short snowman walks into a kitchen, sits down, takes a spoonful of soup and quickly melts into a kid. As I leaned over the fence to place Anna’s portion on the ground, I noticed some tracks. They looked like big kitty cat tracks. Upon closer inspection, I noticed they wound around the pasture from Cougar Hill. Creepy and cool at the same time.
(Karen?)

    The geese roamed around the yard during the day, finding any patch of land not covered with ice or snow. The big babies. We never felt any wind and were pretty sure this non-event of a blizzard was a bust, but it did get cold, colder-than-it’s-gotten-in-18-to-20-years cold. I lay in bed at night hearing mooing in the pasture. “Moooooo Moooooooooo, Mooooooo.” I knew Abe was calling me, but I was not going out in the pasture in the middle of the night in the cold, in the snow, alone. If Mike or Tom or my father had been here I’d have woken one of them up and dragged them down there with me, but as it was I wasn’t going alone. I thought of Laura Ingalls. In the book about her husband Alfonso’s childhood, she told of them getting up in the middle of the night to roust the cows, running them around to elevate their body temperatures. I knew something was wrong. Abe only moos when there’s trouble. Maybe he was cold; maybe there was a cougar. I began to worry, but decided if it was between Abe and me. I was going to have to pick me. I tossed and turned for a long time, trying to force myself back to sleep.

    In the morning, I boiled water on the stove, filled up buckets and took them out to the barn. As cold as the night had been, I knew that, even if their water buckets weren’t frozen, the water would be frigid and the animals wouldn’t drink as much as they should. Just as I got about halfway there, I heard “Clippity-Clop Clippity-Clop Moo Clippity-Clop Clippity-Clop Moo”.  Abe came trotting up the hill mooing loudly, “I'm out of the pasture! I was out all night.You didn’t come get me and I can’t get back in. Let me back in! I want to go back in!”

   Well, I told him, “You’re just going to have to wait until I feed everyone else and then I’ll put you in.” He did, indeed, wait patiently outside the barn by the garden, blowing his hot breath on the snow that covered his whiskers with ice. I walked him down to the pasture with a bucket of grain. I took a look at the cows' water trough; it was the most frozen I’d ever seen it. I took a stick a la Wally and began stabbing at the frozen water, hoping I wouldn’t find George or Max, the Koi, frozen inside a chunk.  Although it comforted me to remember the lady at the shop said they could live through being frozen in a chunk of ice, I still had to be mindful not to throw them away. I was shocked to find the ice over 2” thick.  My thoughts drifted back to the Ingalls’ Ice House as I pulled chunks of ice out of the trough. The weather is supposed to stay this cold or colder for a week or more.

(ice from the top of the water trough)

October 28th Brown Chicken - Brown Cow

   

(Pea getting the room ready for me to paint - moving electrical - scraping wallpaper)

Tom is in town so we spent the day working on the project that never got finished -- the guest bathroom.

After we picked up Henry from school and went shopping for Halloween costume odds and ends, we went over to have dinner with Chris and Lisa. It was to be a simple meal; they made a salad and potatoes, while we picked up a couple of barbecued chickens at Costco.

    The kids did their homework and ate downstairs, while we dined in the kitchen and caught up on everything. When Tom was pouring me a glass of wine, I noticed there was a message on my cell phone.

    “Hey, uh, this is Wayne.  (Wayne)

I don’t know how to tell you this, but when I got home from work there were two cows in my parking space. I didn’t know what to do. I tried shooing them back to the barn area, but they would just run away and then look at me. I did it again and again, but just as I got close they ran and kicked up their heels and, man, can they jump! Anyway, I only saw two. The other one is missing. I don’t know what else to do, but you probably should get home pretty quick. It's getting dark.”

I pressed 9 to save the message, hung up the phone smiling, and took a sip of my wine. Wayne was new at this. I was reminded of Maryruth. “Some cowboys are all hat and don’t have a lick of cow sense.”

Not that Wayne’s a cowboy, but he is a trouper, giving cow wrangling a try.

.

    “What was that?” Tom asked.

    “Wayne called. Andy and Anna are out. He didn’t see Abe.”

    “He knew which was which?” Lisa looked incredulous.

    “No. But I just know “Abie the Baby” didn’t leave the pasture in the dark.”

    “Should you guys rush home?” Chris asked, raising his eyebrows as he shoveled in a forkful of avocado.

    “Even if we race home, we won’t be there for almost an hour,” Tom remarked, settling back in his chair. “They’re not Pancho and Lefty.”

    “They won’t go anywhere. None of our animals go anywhere. They’ll just hang around the pasture.”  We began eating again. I’d forgotten how tasty Costco chickens are.

    When we got home we drove to the barn, scooped out some grain and went down to the pasture. I’d forgotten to latch the gate when I grained them earlier.

    “Who wants a cookie? Who wants some treats?” I yelled in a sort of singsong tone. Sure enough, Abe came out from behind the barn and I heard cowbells a jingle-jangle-jingling towards us. I poured the grain into the dishes as Tom held the gate open for our wayward friends. They stepped in nice as you please and bellied up to the bar. Tom latched the gate and that was that.

(Anna ready for a late night snack)

A lot different from last year's March Madness (20th)

October 9th Charge It

   

(frosty leaves)

    Overnight the temperature has dropped. Suddenly there is frost on the ground and weather reports predicting snow flurries. All this means looking for warm socks, jackets and a hunt for our cache of gloves. It also means a little extra food for the animals.  Preparing the barn for winter and making sure the cattle have a warm dry place. This evening, I scooped out a couple of scoops of grain for each Anna, Abe and Andy.

(chilly morning in the pasture)

    “It’s been a long time since we’ve used this” Henry commented.

    “It still smells good though.” He took a big whiff to verify my statement.

    “Yeah. It still smells sweet. Vivian wants it. But Mom, I think you’re giving them too much for their first time. They might get tummy aches.” Realizing I was trying to show them love through food. My M.O. I silently complied and put back three scoops.
(loafing shed)
    We walked down to the pasture. All three Devons were in the old barn. Henry quickly scampered over the fence to check their water supply at the open end of the three-sided barn. While I went in the gate and found their black rubber grain dishes just about where they were the last time I filled them.
Abe heard me pour the first dish and started mooing like mad  . Not long after he came trotting around the barn to where I was on the other side.  Anna quick on his heels was trying to eat the oats out of the bucket as I was pouring her dish.
(grain is good)
    Now Andy, the head honcho, the big kahuna, the chow-hound of the bunch was still in the barn for some reason, but could see and smell what was happening because the two boards I repaired last winter in the snowstorm had fallen down again and he could peek right through the gap in the wall. I saw him look on jealously. I heard him snort.  I could see his little cow brain thinking little cow thoughts and I just knew, I just knew what was about to happen, but there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. And sure enough he came crashing through the wall knocking down two additional boards on either side to accommodate his generous girth.  It was quite dramatic as the wood cracked and fell away. (Andy)

    Henry came racing around laughing. We decided, Andy could have done Merrill Lynch advertising back in the day. - they probably aren’t hiring at this time.

    On the way back up the hill Henry said,” Mom look on the bright side, If it had been Poncho, he’d have taken down the whole barn.”

July 27th Abbey Road

The weekend flew by.

   Since Kristi moved in to Grandpa Horn's old apartment, she hasn't had a good night's sleep. It appears there were a few squatters already in the apartment. Kristi really didn't want to use traps or poison. This left ferret pee as the only option from what she told me. I was a little taken aback you could actually purchase ferret pee. Exactly how do they collect that? I'm thinking it's not good for the ferret. Looking for a way to make some spare change I told her I'd sell her some of Henry's. In lieu of this, I suggested we enlist the services of Emmett.

    Emmett is fierce, he runs the house and he is the only thing Irish has the good sense to be truly afraid of.

(Irish and Emmett meet in the kitchen)
  (Emmett asks that Irish bow to the king)
(Emmett begins to turn his back in disdain)
(Irish realizes he is supposed to do the full body bow which seems to satisfy Emmett- for now)

Henry packed a cat carrier poured some litter in and sent the assassin over for the night. By morning, he had presented Kristi with his prize on the kitchen counter. I would have been grossed out, but Kristi praised him as a hero and now she and Olie are sleeping just fine.

The assasin demonstrates his prowess)

   

On Saturday, Toby arrived with Dean and two bleary-eyed stowaways, Sam and his sister Kimona. Sam and Henry were like peas and carrots when they both went to Woodland Hills Elementary. So Henry begged me to beg his mother, Julie, to let him come up and stay for a few days or a few weeks or a few months or forever. We threw the lovely Kimona in for good measure and it’s a good thing; Kimona was the only one who helped me feed the animals in the morning while the two boys stood around grinning and punching each other.

(Evil Evelyn has a party out in the pasture with a couple of deer - Abe and Andy join in - my neighbors wave to her, but the deer are unimpressed)

   Toby and Dean only spent the night on the way back to Canada after working on a few episodes of “Monk”.  They took off just after breakfast. She was heading to Trader Joes™ to stock up on some goodies before crossing the border and catching the ferry back to Vancouver Island. She called after crossing the border and you know my feelings about he border. It had taken her over an hour and forty-five minutes. I thought she was calling to complain about the international red tape. To my complete surprise, she was calling me to tell Canada had given her two weeks to pack up her house and leave the country. The whole thing is very complicated, but the long and the short of it is – she and her husband were on work permits. Their farm isn’t doing well financially, so she left the country to “work”, however she’s not allowed to get another job. It gets complicated, but Canada feels that despite the fact their not really earning money they are “working” on the farm and that permit has expired – anyway there are other factors, but in the end, none of it matters. I think we were both in shock.
(child labor- Kimona, Sam and Henry)

    Back here, we all walked around in a daze reeling from Toby’s news and wondering where they’ll go and what they'll do. They won’t have time to sell their house or anything. We’d have to think about that later, we had to get a round bale down the cows. We all thought it would be a little tricky because it was unwrapped, but we wound chicken wire around the bale and the four of us, Sam, Kimona, Henry and I pushed the bale over and got it loaded.

(taking a break-) (Henry and Sam hitch a ride with Lu)

(Kimona gets to know Abe, Andy & Anna)

(Sam learns the meaning of "dialing" a number- shocked and confused, he asks for help)

    The rest of the day was clearing out the attic, feeding the cows’ cookies, and laughing at the geese. The kids went fishing with dogs while our friend Wayne worked hard all day clearing brush away so no pesky predators could get too close to our unsuspecting cougar snacks Henry, Sam, Kimona and Quinn.

May 10th Let It Be

(Abe, Anna & Andy)

    I keep having this recurring nightmare the cows keep getting out of the pasture and running all over tarnation. The trouble is I’m awake.

    Every single time Pancho and Lefty got out of the pasture, the little Devons stayed right where they were supposed to be. They didn’t even walk out the open gate. But having excellent teachers, today they decided was the day to break for greener pastures. And greener they are.

    The Devons: Andy, Abe and Anna walked out the gate. How or why it was open no one knows. I could have forgotten to latch it when I gave them their oats last night, but I don’t know for sure. All I do know is they were in the pasture this morning while I was having my coffee and watching Andy play chase with a Canada goose. Andy would rush up with his horns down and charge the goose. The goose or gander would honk and flap its wings as it fluttered across the ground making quite a racket. Then Andy would stop and the goose would scold him for doing such a thing and then Andy would do it again. I was thoroughly entertained and poured myself a second cup, waiting to see if Abe would join in the game. While I was watching them I was contemplating how we could let them graze on all the unfenced land we have. It’s lush with grass and all our resident herbivores would love to get at it. I chatted with Tom about hobbling the goats, but he about had a breakdown and said that was like tying their shoelaces together and he didn’t want any part of it. So we’re back to fences. Maybe I can put up a hot wire or just a wire with flags to keep the cows wrangled, but that wouldn’t be enough with goats. Goats should be circus performers.

    Well, be careful what you wish for because as I set to work on my garden I heard bells. Not just soft bells ringing from the pasture, but bells up close and personal. I froze. It couldn’t be, Pancho and Lefty are in Wyoming. Slowly I turned, knowing what I’d see and, sure enough, there they were. Three Devons stampeding, complete with pounding hooves. Why were they running?  Because Vivian, self-appointed herd-dog, was chasing them at full tilt. As I watched I could hear the Bonanza theme playing in my head. I imagined Andy as Hoss riding towards me. Andy just seems like the Hoss type.

(Vivan herding)

(Abe Running)

(Mike and Andy)

(Anna & Abe grazing under the apple tree)

Mike, Henry and I made a half-hearted attempt to wrangle them when I said, “Forget it. Let them graze. Let’s just keep an eye on them and block the driveway.”

   

“Sounds good to me. Back to the garden then,” Mike said, relieved he wasn’t going on a cattle drive.

    “What should I do? How about if I get the cement?” Henry said excitedly.

    “Henry, we have a lot of work to do before we mix cement. We have to measure and dig the holes for the posts. We have to weed and then we can pour the cement.”

    “Oh. OK. How about if I get the cement mixer?”

    “Henry! Get a measuring tape.”

    “Alright,” Henry conceded.

    We set to work clearing out all the weeds and getting stakes to mark the garden. I decided to stay fairly true to where the dilapidated fence had been. Mike and I decided the flagpole would be the center of the width. And we measured, and we measured and we measured. I wanted it to be straight, but for some reason, perhaps the slope of the hill, the postholes weren’t straight to a gnat's eyebrow, so things weren’t coming out perfectly.

My father walked up, rolled his eyes and said, “What’s this -  Laurel and Hardy build a fence?”

“Well, Dad, I’ve got to cut part of the fence and I don’t want to cut the wrong amount. I’d rather measure three times than cut the wrong amount.”

“Ahh I don’t measure I just look at it,” He grumbled. Mike and I kept measuring. We were just this side of getting Tom’s T-square when my dad insisted we just start. Mike turned on me and agreed. Henry, hot to get the cement mixer, was already Johnny-On-The-Spot with the tractor and three bags of cement. I gave in. But stayed away from the phone fearing the conversation I’d have with Tom if it looked like crud. I can just imagine.

    Irish decided his building skills were essential to the project and started carrying around everything from the trowel to the hoe. He pulled at the string and almost ate the cement mixer so we tied him on a lead rope. He promptly chewed through it and was put in the mud room to take a nap.

(Irish decides to help)

(Vivian supervises)

(Luther opts out of the project)

    As it happened, with Irish out of the way the post hole digging went fairly well. We compromised; I got the level and checked to make sure everything was the same height and level in each direction. I took a section of fence and checked to make sure each one fit. Theory is theory and knowing the thing will screw together is peace of mind. Channeling Tom, I put stakes on each of the posts, as he would have instructed had he been there.

(Henry & Grandpa Horn)

(Irish will eat anything.)

doing his Farmer imitation)

When we were finished all the posts were in but one corner. We decided to leave that one until we got everything else up, in case we’d need a little forgiveness. I can always use a little forgiveness.

(before we started)

    While we were cleaning up and having what seems to be our weekly bonfire, I found another pile of junk under a tree. My dad put Deli on a leash and tied her to the flagpole. If she just roams around she's gone for hours. Well, he took a shower and got ready to go to the clubs to play jazz.

    "Where are you playing tonight?"

    "We don't know, we just stop in. The other night we went dancing at a couple of places with some girls after we were done."

    "You went dancing? Hmm. They must have been pretty."

    "Well, you know your old man."

    "Yes, I do."

    "Where's Deli?" My dad asked. I turned to look at the flagpole. The leash was there, but Deli and her freedom fighter, Irish were gone. Irish had chewed through Deli's leash to release her and now as we listened we could hear her howling intermittently in the hills. It was haunting.

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March 21st Pass The Mustard

    The phone rang at 6:30AM per usual. Tom calls me to make sure I’m up as I can barely open my eyes on dark morning. This morning there was a modicum of light in the sky. A hopeful sign. I quickly got a cup of coffee, started to make Henry a ham and cheese sandwich, remembered that today was Good Friday, and put the ham back. Now, I went through the morning “C’mon Henry it’s time to get up!” He stumbled to the shower and soon we were on our way, dog, goats and donkey fed. Henry and I had a PopTart™ and a bowl of oatmeal on the way, respectively.

    The ride to school was breathtaking. There had been snow overnight in the hills above our house and the trees were covered with a fresh dusting. Henry talked non-stop. I heard story synopsis' on The BFG and The Fantastic Mr. Fox, both Roald Dahl books. Just before we arrived at the bottom of the playground, Henry started wincing. I asked him what was wrong, but he said he was ok, he thought he had a little whizpopping going on - a Roald Dahl term.

    

I rushed off to take care of some stuff at the bank and then I was going to try and meet Lisa and her friend to get some things for the kids Easter baskets. I’d just finished at the bank a complimentary coffee in hand when the school called.

   

“Is he hurt?”

   

“No. He’s not hurt, he’s had a little accident and he needs some different pants.” I instinctively looked in the far reaches of my van/laundry hamper and spied a pair of jeans tossed aside on the way to gymnastics.

   “I’ve got some clothes with me, I’ll be right there.”

     “Umm, OK.” She said and then hung up. All the way there I wondered, why she’d said that, had that hesitation. I parked and went in. I walked in the office and both women tilted their heads toward a closed door.

   

“He’s in there.” They said in unison. I opened the door and was hit by a wall of pungent stench. My boy stood in front of me covered in crap. He didn’t have an accident; he was living some kind of Stephen King elementary school nightmare. He had feces all over his body, on the inside of his pants, in his socks, on his arms, under his fingernails he needed to be sterilized. This was something Mike Rowe might run from. Mother’s don’t have that choice, I found some baby wipes, and we borrowed some school pants and got out of there. So much for Easter baskets, perhaps we wouldn’t be going to Easter brunch at all if I had diarrhea boy.

   

The way home was fraught with bathroom humor. We discussed the “Saturday Night Live” commercial for adult diapers, “Ooops I Crapped My Pants”. I told him I’d always suspected he was full of shit. And so it went as we made our way home to Jell-O™ and rice. If he were really lucky he’d be eating the old B.R.A.T. diet. Lisa said not to worry she’d get everything for his Easter basket.

   

I made him some raspberry tea my father suggested and called some Java chicken breeders in an attempt to find someone who’s sell me these reportedly “gentle and calm” birds. After a call to Monty in Kansas, I realized I was hungry, remembering Henry’s cheese sandwich I’d made earlier I went out to the car to get it. When I opened the door, I saw them. They were standing near the newly budding tulips.

    

“Not again.” This isn’t funny. I went back inside and called my dad. “

   

“Yeah”

    “I hope UCLÅ isn’t playing because Pancho and Lefty are out again and they’ve broken down the fence.”
I told Henry to get his shoes and coat on and we went outside to round ‘em up. I was sure Tom was sitting in some meeting. Clean.

    When we got outside our cattle were well on their way to the pond. We followed. Once there we saw that Wally had run muck. Having been left to his own devices for a few days he’d built a damn rivaling the Hoover. The problem with his dams is that they choke the pond. The island where the Canada geese made their nest last year was flooded. Henry and I spent a few minutes clearing out his work so the flow of the stream would return to normal and hopefully allow the geese to nest.

    When we walked back my dad was finishing the repairs on the fence. Pancho and Lefty were in my yard. And leaving the largest cow pies you can imagine. More crap. I had savory thoughts of them as prime rib covered in mustard.

    We got them in again, filled their water and went in the house. I checked to see if anyone had any interest in purchasing them. I’m ready to give them away. Free shipping. I went back out and fed the goats, Miracle and Anna. She came at me giving me the head down and horn shake thing. I was having none of it. I started yelling and screaming something about McDonalds®. I don’t want any cows at the moment. I love Andy and Abe is a close second, but I started thinking how happy Miracle and the goats would be down in the pasture. What was I going to do with these stupid cows anyway? No one wants a history camp around here. No one cares about having a Plimoth Colony who am I kidding?

    Henry, Mike and I played the game of Life™. Big surprise, I lost. Tired and very cranky I went up to bed. Of course, the cat box needs changing. Perfect.

February 25th Cookie Monster

   

    My dad called me on my cell as Mike and I were just dropping off Henry at gymnastics. We had planned to do something fun like see a movie since we had four hours to kill, but when my dad said Anna was roaming around loose. We quickly drove the 30 miles home. I told my dad, not to bother chasing her, as it hasn’t worked in the past. I didn’t know what we were going to do. I prepared for a long evening. On the way, I called Little Chris Donaldson and asked if he had any suggestions. My dad had suggested leaving her out all night as she generally stays right near the pasture. Mike was terrified she’d go down the road and someone might hit her. I called Tom, and he said he was pretty sure she’d stay near the pasture. Leaving her out was risky, but it might be our only option, He thought the only reason she went down the road before was because she was confused and didn’t know how to get in the pasture. I knew that would mean I’d have a sleepless night ahead of me.

    When we got there, I thought I’d give an idea a try. Mike went to go change into the boots Tom and I selfishly got him for Christmas. I went to the barn, got a bucket of grain a lead rope and a pocketful of cow cookies.

    I went down to the pasture where she was grazing. This time she was calm and curious. I called her name and she came toward me. I showed her the grain and she went to it easily. I tried to put the rope around her and she dashed away. Ok. I was nervous, as I knew I only had so many attempts before she’d be wound up and wild. I showed her the grain again. She came over. I tried to loop it around her horns. Nope. No good. This time I picked up the bucket called her name and gave her a cow cookie and started walking. More obedient than Irish, she followed me right up to the barn. I was walking there as Mike came out of the house. Seeing us he stopped so as not to spook her. We’re all developing some cow sense. A few moments later she was safely tucked in the barn. Disaster averted.

February 14th I Will Survive

Tom's Valentine's Day Card to Henry

I don’t put too much stock in Valentine’s Day anymore, but then again it’s nice to get a valentine. I didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, my heart is not broken, but I did inform my child, that Mother’s Day is three months away and I expect to get a handmade card. He said he understood and that he’d make one in April, but he’s sure he’s going to lose it by May. Devil Child. As far as Tom goes, he’s not really the Valentine-type anymore, he has given me plenty of sunflowers and wonderful handmade valentines, but we had the biggest fight in the history of our relationship on a Valentine’s Day many, many years ago and we’ve never looked forward to it since.

    Today wasn’t the best day not because of Valentine’s mind you, but I just don’t feel terrific I’m fighting a cold. My head is pounding, my eyes hurt and I just don’t want to move much. I’d say I had a hangover; only you can’t get a hangover from hibiscus tea. The goats, cows, dogs and donkey don’t care at all how I feel. They want what they want and that’s it. The cats are much more sympathetic, they seem to want to lure me back into bed. Emmett and Alvin just purr inviting me to join them.

    Henry got sent home for his mild concussion. He’s dizzy and needs more rest. I might be doubtful about the validity of this claim; however he missed the ONLY party of the year in his class by leaving and I know he was looking forward to it.

    I must have an angel watching out for me, because on the way home I stopped despite my ailments and my reluctance and got a container full of diesel for the tractor. I didn’t think we’d need it until the weekend, but I did it anyway. And good thing I did, because when I got home I found the boys in the pasture needed a round bale of hay. Their feeder was barren and so was the tank of the tractor. I might mention I really didn’t want to go out there and move that bale, but that was the way it was. Those boys depended on me and they were moo-ooing up a storm when they saw me.

    Luckily, Mike, Henry and I can get a bale loaded onto the makeshift sled pretty easily now. We’ve got our technique all worked out; everyone knows his place so we can tip the 700lb bale.  We make the tractor do most of the work. It doesn’t take long; however, we lack style points. We must look ridiculous struggling with the plastic wrap, Mike in his slacks and me in my miner’s light while Henry crawls around on the bale like a cute little monkey, well, Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn would be mighty disappointed in us. We’ll have to work on that.

    Dan Cramer called and has assured me he’s located some good hay and he’ll deliver a mix of Timothy out here on Sunday. You’ve just got to love Dan. When he speaks he just oozes deal making combined with real concern. He’s always saying things like “If I throw 30lbs of hamburger in with the hay load, I suppose you’ll buy that too.” What can you say, but yes? I might start to feel put upon, but then I mention I’ve got to make sure I have enough money, my finances are running low, we haven’t been able to get financing for the camp etc. and he says “Don’t worry, you’re animals are going to eat, pay me when you can.” Huh. Those thoughtful words of kindness from someone I barely know brought tears to my eyes. I hope I’ll never have to take him up on it, but what a nice man. Now I have to buy the hamburger. Maybe Henry will like Sloppy Joes.

There’s no rest for the wicked, all the animals have eaten, but none of the people. I wonder, is it a sin to give your child a Jenny Craig™ frozen entrée? I hope not, because he enjoyed a lovely roasted chicken dinner with broccoli and roasted potatoes accompanied by Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop tarts™ for dessert as Mike read aloud to him and I wrote the events of the day. I’ll have to stop now, as it is time for my escape: “Survivor”. I applied once,I sent in a tape, but alas they didn’t pick me.

February 7th Animal Farm

This morning as I was greeting the residents in the barn. I was welcomed with the usual Brenda-Vicarro-type-brays from Miracle and eager bleats from Riley. Donkeys it seems love to be snuggled, so if I don’t want a sulky donkey I have to take the time to hug Miracle and let her rest her nose over my shoulder. I am then expected to scratch behind her ears, under her halter and in general bestow love. This is not a sacrifice, I consider it an honor, and I comply readily. I was raised around horses and given that donkeys are equine I thought they’d be like horses or ponies. NO, they are not. They do all like to be brushed and pet, snuggled and loved, but donkeys are their own deal.

    The light in Anna’s area, I’d say stall, but it’s much bigger probably three times a regular stall, has burned out and so as she sticks her wet nose through the slats mooing at me she just seems like the monster in the dark. I’m not too fond of her, as you probably have surmised over time. I had such high hopes for owning a cow, but she is not a real chummy cow. She’s beautiful true. But she’s suspicious, nervous and cranky.

    I went through my morning routine, the very pushy goats get their alfalfa pellets in their trough first, or they steal everything from Miracle. She’s much more shy and demure, unlikely qualities in a donkey but she’s really the only donkey I know. They are a clash of cultures. Watching them respond to each other is like taking a sociology class – Not animal behavior. The goats have no personal boundaries they cling and hang together. They don’t care where one goat ends and one begins. My donkey is much more standoffish. She backs up if someone wants to get by. If the goats rushed in and took her treats she walked away. As time has gone on, Miracle has found passive ways of fighting back. She waits until the goats get their pellets, then she positions herself between them and the rest of the area- blocking them in with her body. This way they have to go try and slip between her lethal hind legs and the wall if they want to steal some of her treats. Very crafty. If one slips by and tries to snag a treat she pretends to try and bite them, but they know an empty threat when they see one. Goats are not stupid.

    Which brings me back Anna. She was mooing up a storm, like a baby who wants a bottle. Although she really isn’t supposed to get cow cookies in the morning- the boys don’t but they’re down in the pasture- she doesn’t think it’s fair that everybody else in the barn is getting treats.  I don’t blame her, so I give her some cookies in a black flat bottom bowl from the feed store. (Miracle prefers a white plastic mixing bowl she won’t eat out of the feed store bowls) I leaned in to give her the treats she so desperately wanted and what does she do? She starts thrashing her head back and forth hitting the bowl with her horns dumping the cookies on the ground in her water and all over the place. It is at this moment I start to yell “You stupid COw” I stopped. Hmm. That’s where that came from. Thousands of colonial farmers probably yelled those very words countless times for it to become part of our colloquial language. American history. I didn’t want to follow up with dumb ass, because you know how sensitive Miracle can be.

February 5th Calgon Take Me Away

    Took my car into the Honda dealership. It is a Honda, so you don’t really expect to have to do anything to it. Gas and go that’s it. But even a Honda needs to be serviced from time to time.
Self-conscious about the mess that is my van, I flinched when Dan asked me the color of my van after going out to write down my VIN number. “Is that a crack about the dirt on my car?”

    “No, he replied I’m not even going there. My son drives one of our cars, we call it ‘the dumpster’. Yours is nothin’.”

    Mike drove me home. Henry stayed at Lisa’s 1/2 because he wants a chance to play their Wii and 1/2 because we have a huge storm predicted with 10” of snow predicted and I didn’t know if we’d be able to get out in the morning to go to school. We only live about twenty miles east, but the climate change is incredible.
Once I got home I realized that three boards had blown down in the cattle barn. As the wind howled, looking like a coal miner with my head-lantern strapped on below my ponytail, bundled in my warmest coat, gloves, boots and my sage green sparkle scarf that I love, I went to the chicken coop/tool shed; picked up a screw gun, some screws, a hammer and some nails found a ladder and together with my sidekick, Mike carrying the cattle grain we headed down the gavel path to fix the cattle barn on this dark night, I really felt like farmer gal Sal. I fixed it. It wasn’t a “if you don’t do it right it isn’t worth doing” kind of fix. It was a
I-can’t-feel-the-tips-of-my-fingers-and-at-least-Abe-Andy-Poncho-and-Lefty
-won’t-turn-into-cattlesicles-because-there’s-a-wind-tunnel-in-their-bedroom-type fix.”
I warmed up a Jenny Craig™ Turkey with gravy, put on my wool socks, fuzzy Christmas slippers and flannels, brewed a pot of Earl Grey, portioned out some Trader Joe’s™ chocolate meringues for a treat turned on the Super Tuesday Election Results and cranked up the heat to 64 degrees. I deserved it.

February 2nd Horns A Plenty

    On this cold and icy morning, I looked out the living room windows when the sun finally decided to get up. And again as I’ve seen in the past few days, the big boys aren’t letting the little guys in the “loafing shed” or “cattle barn” as Little Chris insists on calling it.

    Unfortunately, I think today is the day, I’m afraid, I realize I have to sell Pancho and Lefty. I’m struggling financially, the camp isn’t happening or so it seems and even if and when we get our permits I don’t think we’re going to need two pairs of oxen. Pancho and Lefty seemed like the smarter buy. They were trained and gentle. They came with a wagon, and Maryruth.  It’s time I simply admit I made a mistake. I love them they’re like overgrown basset hounds running across the field to greet me. Mooing at me when they want my attention and putting their heads down so I can rub behind their ears.

    I just don’t see how I can keep them. They have completely torn up the pasture and with the four boys in there I don’t know how it’ll have a chance to heal. It's a complete quagmire when in between snows. I can’t keep Anna in with the rest of the cattle and she’s miserable. Her being in the barn means more work and I’m getting beaten down. I think I’m going to list them on ruralheritage.com, but I need to talk to Maryruth first and see what she says. I feel like I’m betraying her.

January 5th Sleigh Ride

   

The round bale feeder is finished. Huzzah! Now all we had to do is put a round bale in it. We don’t have a spear, so Tom, the fixer of problems great and small, decided to rig a hay sled. He took one of the old barn doors and put some rigged it so we could hook a line of cable from the tractor.

    Tom and I pushed one of the round bales over to make it land on the sled. And then hooked the sled to the tractor. It worked like a charm. As the snow fell, Tom pulled the bale down the hill easily. He made a big circle and lined the bale up with the feeder. We unhooked the sled and tipped the bale into the feeder. He then used the tractor to push the bale all the way in the feeder. We cut the net binding the bale and stepped back. Nothing, the boys weren’t interested. We started calling to them and taking hunks off to get them to realize this was their new feeder. The big boys caught on first, and wouldn’t let the little guys near it. I was worried, but I figured the big boys couldn’t eat non-stop so eventually, the little guys would get theirs. We watched them for a while and Andy decided he wanted to get in on the action. Abe hung back, but it’s only a matter of time, he’ll eat.

    Henry and Luther caught a ride on the way back.

    After seeing the sled in action, I don’t want a spear. The sled is safer. The spear would be at the front of the tractor and throw everything off balance as you go down hill. It seems very dangerous and the potential for tipping is high. I like Tom’s hay sled, it’s behind you and if anything happens it doesn’t affect the balance of the tractor. Plus we already have it.

January 4th Ring! Ring! Ring! Somebody Get That!

Tom and Little Chris Donaldson started on the round bale feeder just as Henry and I were leaving for school. The feeder is to be built directly into the fence so I won'thave to go in the pasture to load the hay. t

After dropping off Henry I went around town running errands, picking up things Tom needs to finish his various projects. I called to see if Tom needed anything else. No answer.

I ran out to Lynden to see about the spear. No one told me there are about five different kinds of spears. You can strap them and you can bolt them and I don’t know what else the difference is, but I wasn’t going to make this decision by myself I tried calling home. No answer. No answer. No answer. They were probably working outside on the feeder. I know they’ll never in a million trillion years check the messages so I don’t bother. Anyway the sales guy told me no matter which one I chose he didn’t have it in stock. I wondered if I could find one on ebay or craisgslist.

After I finished my mad dash around Whatcom County, I picked up Henry and headed for gymnastics. To be time efficient, I strategically didn’t run my errands to Home Depot™, Costco™ and Lowes™ because they have them in Burlington too. My rural living is showing. I tried calling, but no answer.

It’s Friday, so Henry only does three hours. Seven o’clock rolled by and we were heading home. I still hadn’t heard from Tom, which was strange. As we got closer, I tried calling again. Nothing. I figured they were really working.

When we arrived, we saw Tom drinking a Becks™ and Little Chris was downing a can of A&W™. They seemed in a good mood. This irritated me a bit. Why couldn’t he just pick up the phone? I asked this in what I considered a calm tone. He might have a different viewpoint.

“I didn’t call because Anna some how got out of her pen.”

“What? Are you kidding me?” I looked over at the pasture and sure enough she was in with the boys. Nervous, I checked to see if any of them were making any of their amorous gestures. All was quiet. “How did she get out?”

“We don’t know. Chris checked and the chain on her gate was off.”

“Well, how did you get her in?"

“That’s the part you’re not going to believe.”

“Try me.”

“We were working away on your round bale feeder and I heard a clatter.”

“A clatter? Like I heard such a clatter?”

“Exactly, I heard a clatter so I looked up. And I couldn’t believe it, but Anna was hoofing it down Mosquito Lake Road.”

“She was running down the road?”

“Yep, toward Acme.”

“Well how’d you get her back?” I asked, relieved I knew there was a good ending to this story.

“She just came back. We think she wanted to rejoin the herd and she was trying to get in the pasture so she walked down the driveway but couldn’t get in. When she was running down the road she looked over and saw the boys, turned around and ran back. The next thing we knew she was over where we were working on building the feeder into the fence and she walked in as nice as you please.”

“Wow. I’m glad I wasn’t here. But you still could have called.”

January 3rd Round And Round We Go

    This is the first day of the rest of my life. Today, this morning, I have this guy, Frank, coming out here with seventeen round bales of hay. Why is getting s a bunch of hay a big deal? Let me expound the mysteries thereof, round bales I’ve learned are bigger than regular bales. One round bale will feed my cattle for about a week. A week! This means no heaving, no hauling. This means I simply go down, check the water and give them some grain. As if a gift from Heaven, they’re cheaper. Yes, cheaper. Why? I don’t know why. It doesn’t seem reasonable that something that makes my life easier and lasts longer is cheaper, but it is. Maybe it’s like buying chocolate chips in bulk.

    The unloading didn’t go as smoothly as any of us had hoped. The guy and his son upped the price a little, because it was so arduous. Their truck wouldn’t come all the way up our drive way and our tractor didn’t have a spear. I didn’t even know there was such a thing until today. You strap the spear to the front bucket of the tractor, poke the round bale and take it to the feeder. They let us use their spear, but as this was happening, the guy got frustrated because Tom wasn’t moving the tractor fast enough. Well, calm down buddy this was our first experience moving round bales and we’re figuring things out. He asked Tom if he minded if he drove the tractor. Tom was all for it. It didn’t go too much smoother when he did it. The round bales are so heavy that when he picked one up, our tractor tipped. I could hardly breathe. I thought the guy was going to get crushed.

    Everything stopped at that point. We hooked the backhoe on as counter weight and kept going. At one point we weren’t sure all of them would fit, but they did.

Now we just have to build a round bale feeder and get a spear.

December 22nd Where There's Smoke

    (Henry helping feed the cows)

     Lisa had Tom pick up some sedatives for the cats, just in case. She didn’t want him to give any to Emmett if he could at all help it, because of his age but she didn’t want the cats to be too distressed either.

    From the grumbling and mumbling I heard on the phone, the loading and departure did not go well in regard to the cats. I didn’t get the details as both Chris and Tom were too worked up to discuss it. Profanity was used.

    A couple hours later, I got a call that the car had caught fire. FIRE! Tom had noticed as he glanced in the rear view mirror that all the cats’ mouths were agape. Looking more closely they saw smoke. Something had inadvertently turned on in the back of the car when they closed the hatch and as a result one of the tarps he had in the back was smoldering. They pulled over, put out the fire and were now back on the road. Tom said the cats probably saved everybody’s lives. I worry, has Emmett used up all of his? I am not kidding when I say I don’t think he’s going to make it. I know Tom said Emmett seems fine, but what how well will he really do long-term? He’s no spring chicken. Henry and I are going to say a prayer.

November 10th Beasts Of Burden

    Team Donaldson (Lisa, Chris, Quinn, Phoebe –  with Winifred and Griffin arrived to see the oxen exhibition and with the requisite supplies or master cheese maker, Maryruth, needed for her demonstration/lesson later in the afternoon.   

    We went out and hitched up those big boys and off we went. I had a blast. There is something exhilarating about having that much muscle do what I say. I felt like “I am Woman”. This time they responded beautifully. We even hitched an upside down hood of a truck to the back of them and drove the boys while the kids rode around the pasture. I got going a little faster than I felt comfortable with and those horns on the top of their heads are  daunting, but they're a lot more nimble than you would think. Lefty poked me a couple of times and I certainly paid attention, but it wasn’t deliberate.
The picture Tom didn’t get was Luther, riding on the upside down hood with Henry. Luther continues to have visions of grandeur. He believes the oxen obey his commands.

    While I was driving the boys, an unexpected thing happened. Andy started to follow behind. It was as if he was looking up to them. I gave the boys the command to go and Andy would follow. The boys stopped and so did Andy. None of could believe it. He was prancing around having fun carrying his tail in the air ever so pleased with himself.

    Maryruth helped me get the little boys hooked up and so began their training. I didn’t know how hard it would be to teach them, but I have to admit I was surprised at how quickly they caught on. At first they struggled at the idea of being hooked together. They seemed uncomfortable to Maryruth so we switched their sides. Then everything got a lot easier. They learned fast. I guess it’s genetic, but it’s like they’d done it many times before. They seemed to sense what to do and were able to gauge from my body language what I wanted from them. It’s funny I felt differently after that, we’d worked together and somehow our relationship had changed. They weren’t just cattle in the field. They were oxen with an education.

Little Chris Donaldson and his girlfriend Stephanie came out today and took Henry to the pond fishing. The girls went to, it fishing didn’t seem to hold their interest. They decided they’d rather come in for pizza and cheese making.

    Phoebe was the most diligent, following all Maryruth’s commands. This is not unusual, as Phoebe has always been the hardest working of all the kids. Phoebe stirred and strained and squeezed lemon without stopping. Then we all sat down and devoured warm hunks of cheese with a hint of lemon and crunchy bread.

   

We talked about the camp and all Maryruth’s ideas on how we could use the property to make money. Everyone marveled at the fact that the bankers can’t see their way to financing the endeavor. It seemed like a slam-dunk. Parents everywhere lament about their children not appreciating the outdoors. Kids find it exciting because they never do things like throw tomahawks and churn butter. They love to feed animals and do things like plow fields etc. I meet “colonial junkies” in the strangest places even gymnastic competitions. People say, a “Williamsburg-type place out here? We’d love it. We don’t have anything like that, it would be fantastic!” but yet, I can’t get it to happen.

     I feel like a failure. It's hard to explain the responsibility I feel. I suppose because I believe so completely in the benefits for children. I don't just feel like I've failed in a business, but in a teaching opportunity.I sat outside alone for a while during the afternoon sitting by the pasture thinking. Watching my oxen I was reminded of a passage.

"Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light?"

Mathew 11

    Sure it's my responsibility to get people interested in the camp,  and I have failed but no one is sick. I have to keep things in perspective. It's only money. I can find a way to teach.

I just wish I knew why I'm so ineffective. What am I’m doing wrong? Fort Flashback is a good idea.

    Now, we have to consider other options I guess. I really don’t know if I’m ready for a Bed & Breakfast in my own home. It would be one thing if we could afford to build or provide some kind of sleeping quarters out in the pasture, but it seems difficult to be catering to people in your own home. But maybe I just have to get used to the idea.

November 7th These Are The Yokes Son

    This morning, I woke up to a smiling Maryruth sipping a cup piping hot coffee curled up on the sofa surrounded by dogs and wrapped in a green blanket. All my fears of the previous evening seemed silly and far away.

    We took Henry to school and rode in to town to pick up a few things. Our first stop was Trader Joes™ because after all everyone needs something at Trader Joes™. Then we stopped at the serious hardware store not my usual haunt Home Depot™ or Lowes™, but Hardware Sales™, the one that makes Tom’ mouth water. We picked up a variety of things like heavy chain and “s” links so that we could hook the boys up today.

    When we got everything going, the boys hooked up and ready. Maryruth ran them through their paces yelling things like “Hey Boss” “Gee” and “Haw”. In case, you haven’t read Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder, “Gee” means right and “Haw” is left. They were a little resistant at first, like fifth graders after winter break, but in a short time they were geeing and hawing around like champs.

    Then it was my turn. I was nervous, but I got out there. IMaryruth hooked a rope around them, so I had more control. I asked them to go. They looked at me like they were confused. Maryruth scolded me and told me to use my teacher voice. That got them going. I started bellowing like I was yelling at Michael Ungar and they went, yes siree they went where I told them - just like Michael come to think of it.

   

My turn didn’t last long as I would have liked. Maryruth thought they’d had enough for one day. So we unhooked them and brushed them down, gave them treats and let them go. As soon as we turned them loose they charged around the field kicking up their heels like school had been dismissed. Oxen frolicking are a seldom seen but hilarious sight.

October 27th Feeding Time

    I’m trying to make the feeding of the animals more efficient. Currently, it’s tough. The barn animals, like the goats and donkey are actually fairly easy. Alfalfa pellets, two scoops morning and night for the goats. Miracle gets one scoop of Packer Pellets™ both morning and night – to be served in her Tupperware™. She is a picky ass and won’t eat out of just any old cow dish. She has to be locked outside while she eats hers or Rachel and Christina will eat them right out of her mouth. They are like a clash of cultures. Miracle is very Nordic in behavior while the goats tend to act a bit more Middle Eastern. Finally, I fill their water and make sure all the doors are secured so that I don’t have to lose sleep over coyote attacks.

    The cows are tougher. As I’ve said before I have to throw two hay bales down from the hayloft, get the tractor and load them up. Drive the tractor down to the pasture get off and drive over to the feeding stations. Then I have to take the bales and lift them above my head into the mangers. Finally, if I haven’t forgotten the scissors I cut the strings that bind the bales. This happens twice a day. I have to say there has to be a more efficient way to do it, but I don’t know what it is.

   

Don’t get me wrong; some days my dad helps me and other times Mike pitches in. Even Henry helps lift the bales, but it’s tiresome. I take that back. Actually, once you’re doing it, it isn’t too bad, but as the wind howls and the nights get longer you just don’t really want to put your boots on and head out the door to do it. I find doing the barn animals kind of relaxing and once you’ve finished doing it all you truly feel as if you’ve done something meaningful. I can imagine the kinds of dinner’s farmers must eat. This is work worthy of hearty eating.

     Once, the feeding is done, we’re still having to go out and medicate Rachel. It’s almost over and no one is more relieved than Rachel (and me). She seems to be doing a lot better and apparently she isn’t contagious so she’ll be returning to her stall with her daughter, Christina and the others soon.

October 22nd Packer Pellets Anyone?

(Alfalfa)

   

(Packer Pellets)

Lisa gave me the medication I have to give Rachel every day for a week. When I say give, I mean inject. Some might be squeamish about this, but I had to take care of my mother while she underwent years of chemotherapy and have long since gotten past the “I will not give a shot under any circumstances position”.

    Lisa said it's prudent to keep Rachel isolated in her single stall just in case what she has is contagious. Rachel's not very happy about this, but she can see Christina and the others and she’s getting a good deal of “Packer pellets”.  The packer pellets are our "cow cookies" and Miracle loves them. They’re just alfalfa big fat alfalfa pellets about two inches long and about as big around as a hot dog. They're called packer pellets because people who pack into the mountains aren't supposed to leave any food stuff behind. And it's not very practical to load a bale of hay on the back of your horse. Truth be known, we call them goat heroin because the goats completely lose their minds for these things. They're personalites change. They get kind of wild and frantic, they rush at you wild-eyed ears twitching. So we don’t give them much.  I've suggested to Tom, we just cut them off. You can't give in to addicts and Idon't want to be a goat enabler. Sometimes though I soften and scatter a little of the dust you find at the bottom of the bag on their hay. Anyway, today I thought Rachel deserved a little extra, so she’s not too, too unhappy. Snacks as comfort this explains how I ended up on Jenny Craig™.

October 7th Things Heat Up

    Looking forward to a lazy Sunday morning I was just pouring my first cup of coffee, when Mike remarked, “Wow. The cows are sure running around and playing a lot this morning.” I went to the window to take a peek at my cows frolicking in the field, but that wasn’t what I saw.  Anna was very obviously being chased by a herd of deranged cattle. Why this was, when all the boys were neutered I had no idea. You see, a bull is an intact male, a steer is a neutered male under two years of age and an ox is a steer with an education - over two years old. Whatever the reason, Anna was running for her life and the others looked like – raging bulls. It would have been one thing for Andy or Abe to mount her they were the same breed and the same age, approximately 700lbs. But Pancho and Lefty are said to be 2,500lbs apiece. They could kill her, or break her leg, which would result in the same thing. You don’t exactly put cows in leg casts. I called Kulshan Veterinary Clinic; their ad says they do cats to cattle. I spoke to a doctor who told me that yes; they’d kill her if I didn’t get her out of there. He told me that even cows would mount other cows in heat. Apparently, this can cause a great problem for some dairy farmers. What? Horses don’t do that. Dogs don’t do that and I know goats don’t do that. Why didn’t anyone tell me this might be a problem? Lord help me.

    I pulled on my already muddy coveralls and boots and ran down to the field and Mike came stumbling after me in his tennis shoes, slacks and permanent press shirt.
We tried to catch Anna with a lead rope, but she was otherwise engaged.
After a while we were able to get the big boys locked in the loafing shed, which according to Laura Ingalls Wilder I now know is a barn with three sides. Our immediate threat handled, we took deep breaths and tried to come up with a plan. Thankfully, my father had seen us from the window and he now joined us and the three of us went at trying to round up the cattle. Two hours later we were exhausted, and still empty handed, but Mike’s shirt was still tucked in. I had new found respect for Hoss Cartwright.
    In a desperate attempt we let Anna out of the corral. We logically figured she’s a herd animal and won’t stray too far. We were right on some level she stayed close by, but we still couldn’t get her. We couldn’t come anywhere close to getting her. Billy Crystal came to mind and I wished Jack Palance were going to come out of the woods at any minute. That didn’t happen.
    My sister once told me that cattle crossings keep cows in certain areas because they don’t like to walk over things. Remembering this, we came up with a new plan. Mike and I held a long rope between us while my dad came around another side as we tried to get her back in the pasture. She JUMPED the rope. The rope was almost three feet off the ground! She quite literally flew threw the air. And suddenly all we could think of was the cow that jumped over the moon. We were all so astonished and laughing so hard from disbelief and frustration it took a while to recover from the shock. Well, that plan wasn’t going to work.
Mike kept muttering something about he never thought he was going to end up chasing some cow in a field in Washington when he got put in my study group, and was glad this wasn’t being video taped. My dad kept yelling “This is just horseshit.” And while they were carrying on, I just kept wondering how many calories I was burning running all over the field. After all you have to look on the bright side.
    After a couple hours, the Donaldsons arrived and we all tried again. Anna was tired and we had fresh help. Soon with everybody and a bag of cow cookies, we got her safely to the upper barn with the goats and Miracle.

 

I was certain I deserved a snack after burning all those calories and it goes without saying, a second cup of coffee.

August 3rd Cows Anyone?

 I’m not giving up on cattle. I’ve been researching places to get Milking Devons online, but apparently not only are they rare, they’re non-existent in Washington, Idaho, Oregon, Arizona and California. One very interesting thing that I’ve found out is cattle used to be multi-purpose. A family who owned a cow would use it for milking and plowing and, eventually, eat the beef. Now cattle, like so many aspects of modern life, have become specialized for either beef or dairy.

    Using 21st century technology to locate a 17th century cow, I finally located a Milking Devon at Three Eagles Ranch in Colorado on ruralheritage.com. Paula Johnson, had listed Abe, a seven-month-old Milking Devon steer that has started training for the yoke. As we chatted I found she also had a COW, Anna! I’ve always wanted a cow and I thought perhaps they could be a team. After all, why did they have to be two males? Still later in the conversation I found out that Paula did have another steer about Abe’s size but she called this one “hamburger” because he is difficult and, therefore, destined to be butchered. When our phone call ended, my head started spinning. I could get a cow and then have a calf down the road. Milk-babies I liked these ideas. Anna could be the match to Abe, couldn’t she?

    Next, I called a ranch in Arizona about a pair of Milking Shorthorns another heritage breed. These two, Lefty and Pancho (their owner must be a Willie Nelson fan) are a fully trained team of oxen. Although not in this country as long as the Devons, who arrived on the Fortune, the ship that followed the Mayflower, the Shorthorns are historically correct-and rare.

    I spoke to their owner, the very friendly Maryruth Monahan. She’s an experienced drover and said she’d come out to my place after “the boys” got settled, and help me if I decided to take them. She also threw in their yoke and their Civil War-era cart. Well, you can’t ask for more than that. Now what? Should I take the experienced team with the teacher /trainer and all the gear or the Milking Devons, the breed at Colonial Williamsburg and George Washington's home, Mt. Vernon, young ones without training, but one of them a heifer? Logic says take the experienced team, I think. But my heart says that Milking Devons are the way to go. Hmm. I’m going to have to think about it and get some opinions.