As The Butter Churns

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.

July 10th The Sounds of Silence

(Henry trying to teach the geese to fly) (Henry explains the finer points of flying - A little "Fly Away Home")

(The geese, Mathilda, Ruthie, Clara, Mabel, Lloyd, Alfred, Cleveland & Quackmire give it a try)

    Days that stain your memory forever, start out like any other day. You get up, eat something and benignly go about your normal routine having no idea what is to come. The day my mother died Toby was making lemon squares in the kitchen. The day I was raped Lisa and I had a fight while driving over Laurel Canyon.

    Today was Thursday and Henry went to gymnastics; I got a cut and color, went to Home Depot™ and applied for jobs online. Mike drove up from Tacoma to help me work on the front walk while Henry started his Tom Sawyer routine painting the fence posts white.

    Mike and I started about 3:00PM and worked steadily until around 9:00PM when we began to lose both our stamina and the sun. As we were pouring the last concrete mold I heard a loud “MOOO”. I stopped and listened; it’s not often the cows moo. They’ll moo at me if they want a cookie, but not if I’m not walking by. I didn’t hear anything else so I continued trowling.

    “MOOOO”. I looked up and scanned the field. Who was mooing? I couldn’t even see the cows. I wondered if they’d gotten out. Or if one of them did. I thought of Pancho and Lefty. When they’d gotten out the other cows had tattled.

    “Mike, I think something’s wrong with the cows. I hear mooing.”

    “I’m sure they’re fine. How’s the hay situation?”

    “Well, there isn’t much down there just some fragments, but they have an entire field of grass. I’d be surprised they’re mooing about that, but I did give them treats yesterday, maybe they just want some cookies or grain.”

    “That’s probably it. When are you getting hay? Do you know yet?”

    “Little Chris is bringing some out tomorrow. Mike? I don’t hear any bells. Nothing. Listen.” We stood there listening while the cement mixer churned rhythmically. Silence. Loud Silence.

    “MOOOOOO”.

    “Mike something’s wrong.”

    “I don’t know about the moos but the bell thing is eerie. No one is moving down there. I’ll go with you. We need a flashlight, it’s going to be dark quickly.”

    “I’ll get my headlamp Tom bought me, it’s in the chicken coop.” I put it on, grabbed a bucket filled with grain because you never know when you’ll need a bribe and started running toward the pasture. “Mike, Let’s go!”

    “Should I close up the geese?”

    “NO! We can do that when we get back, we’re losing the light.” Usually I would have had a dog with me, but they were all locked inside because they kept stepping on the wet cement.

    “I’m coming.” We started down to the pasture. Wearing my headlight I could see into the loafing shed. There was a pair of eyes reflecting back at me. Whew. One.

    “I see one in the barn. But where are the others?” We looked around.

    “Here’s one!” Mike called. “Anna is over in the barn, almost like’s she’s hiding.”
(Little Abie the Baby - wedged in)
    “I found the trouble! Abe is stuck in the round bale feeder.” There he was half in and half out. He looked relieved to see me. He seemed to relax. I gave him some of the grain and pet him. He calmly let me try and guide him out of his predicament, but he just couldn’t seem to really move in either direction. I ran and got a sledge. We banged away at the board as Abe calmly allowed us to aim above his head. I thought he’d get wild and hysterical, but he just stood there looking at me. Suddenly there was a huge rustling in the bushes.

    “That was a big animal.” Mike said solemnly. “I would be surprised if that was anything smaller than a moose. Keep working.”

     The sledge didn’t work, Pea had built this thing and with his do it right motto,  his structures aren’t comin down. I got the drill and began unscrewing things. I did get the upright piece out so Abe wasn’t wedged in. Now he had a couple of feet of room on either side of him to maneuver his body. I tried luring him with the grain, but he couldn’t seem to lift his leg high enough. I figured I’d have to unscrew the whole damn thing when I found the bolts Tom had put on either end. Big huge bolts I wasn’t going to be able to get out in this lifetime. Frustrated and cold Mike and I wondered what to do next. We decided maybe we could get him to step on a piece of wood and then he’d be able to get his foot over. So Mike left me with Abe and now Anna and Andy who were poking their heads through the slats angling for a bit of grain. (Abe free of the upright)

(Abe snacking while Andy tries to horn in)

I stood there petting Abe. He let me lift his foot and try getting it over the wood barrier, but it wasn’t going to happen. Mike returned and I put the pieces on the ground as Abe tried to step on them. He was not certain about this idea at all. (In between 2nd and third slats - eyes appeared to the right)

As I was maneuvering the board in relation to his foot my headlight caught a pair of green eyes about fifty feet away.

    “Mike I can see eyes in the pumpkin patch.”

    “Well, forget about that we’ve got do this. Let’s hurry.”

    Suddenly, there was another pair of green reflective eyes. I figured it was a pack of coyotes. “Mike, there are now two. Do you see them?”

    “No. I don’t see them. I don’t see them.” He said with increasing intensity.

    “You can’t see them? Look. They’re right there.” I shined my light directly into their eyes.

    “I don’t see them. I don’t see them.”

    “Look right there."

    "I don't see them."

    They’re very close.”

    One pair of shining emerald eyes dropped down. It was crouched down in the grass. There was no question in my mind. We were being hunted. “Uh. Mike, one is crouching down in the grass” as I spoke, the other pair of eyes leapt four feet in the air. It was like watching Animal Planet™ or being on safari, I thought how graceful, just like a gazelle as it dawned on me, Cats. Big Cats. In less than a moment we heard a strange purr/chirping mind-numbing noise come out of the dark. They were communicating. It was an amplified version of Alvin and Emmett when they’ve found a mouse. I knew exactly how much danger we were in. They’d been in those bushes forty minutes and had decided to come within fifty feet of us. We were prey. I was only thankful Henry was safely in the house. My mind flashed back to a story I’d heard last Fourth of July. Some neighbors had told us of two cats that had annihilated all the animals on their farm. I thought of the other night when Irish had barked so frantically, I’d brought him inside. I remembered the cat scat we’d seen when we’d first arrived. I stood there my mind racing. Cats don't usually come out of the bushes with humans, we had a light, we were making noise, yet they were still approaching. There were two. Cats usually hunt alone. I braced myself. I wondered how much pain was to come.

    “Mike, they’re cougar.” I said quietly.

    “I know. I heard.”

    “What should we do? They’ve come for Abe.”

    “We’ve got to leave him. We’ve got to get out of here. I only have a pry bar.”  Absolutely. I knew he was right. He started moving quickly up toward the house ahead of me. I didn’t want to run and evoke some sort of prey response. My mind was clear as I walked slowly continuing to shine my headlamp directly at them. I knew I needed to appear as large and threatening as possible. I turned it around my head pointing my light at them despite my direction. We made it up the hill. I could see the light shining from inside the barn. The goats! I ran to the barn latched the front doors and called the goats and Miracle in. Every one of them ran into the barn as I slammed the second door and latched it. They were safe, hungry, but safe. As I came out, I could see Mike had secured the geese.

    We went inside I grabbed my air horn from under the sink gave it to Mike and positioned him on the porch in case of an attack on Abe. He sat there listening.  I went to the kitchen called Little Chris Donaldson and explained what was going on.

    “Denise, you need is another gun. A shotgun not just a rifle.” Yawned a sleepy Chris.

    “OK, we can argue that later, I don’t have a shotgun right now. I can't hit a cougar at night, I have an air horn. I have stuck steer and a couple of cougar. What do I do cowboy?”

    “That’s good you’ve got the air horn, you can also bang some pots and pans. Use a wooden spoon. But he’s not stuck. He’ll kick that thing down if he has to.” I thought of the bolts and wasn’t sure he could, Tom had made that thing to withstand Pancho and Lefty. He could move though now that we’d gotten the upright down.

    I called Tom, he sounded almost angry at everything I said. He told me he knew what was going on. He was short snapping at me telling me he heard. He said Henry had called while I was out on the porch. I knew he was just terrified and a long way a way. He couldn’t protect us. I thought of my mother’s safari. “I’m going down there in my van.”

    “That’s a good idea, go down there and shine the lights in the field. You wont’ get stuck. It’s been dry so there’s no mud.”

    “I think it’s safe. On safari’s you see big cats jump on vans and the people are safe.”

    “You’ll also have your horn.” We hung up.

    I started outside. “Henry?”

“Yeah mom?” I could see how frightened he was.

    “It’s ok sweetie, we’re ok. But no matter what you hear, do not come out of this house. Do you understand me?”

    “I do. I understand. I won’t, I’ll stay inside.”

    “Good, because I can’t help Abe if I’m worried about you. You’re safe. You have the dogs. If you need to, call Daddy or Lisa.”

    I informed Mike of the plan. He said he was coming. So armed with my headlamp, some pots and pans and the air horn we headed down to save Abe. But Abe was gone. He’d done just as Little Chris had said and gotten the hell out of there. Logic told me he’d have run toward the light and cookies– not toward the dark and lonely pond. Mike had been on the porch the whole time and hadn’t seen him, so he must have be back in the pasture. I tried shining my lights everywhere. No cougar. I could see pair of eyes in the loafing shed, so I knew some of the cows were inside. I had to believe Abe was too.

    I dropped Mike at his car and he shined his headlights for me as I walked gingerly into the house. I knew I was safe now, but I informed the dogs no one was going outside under any circumstances whatsoever. They could all pee inside tonight; I’d clean it up in the morning.

    Henry hugged me tightly. I knew the cats were probably long gone, and reason told me they’d never come in the house, but I closed all the downstairs windows anyway and took everyone of the cats and dogs along with Henry upstairs into my room closed the door and crawled into bed. The adrenaline rush and the terror had exhausted me. I listened for an attack. But it was dead quiet. No bells. I thought of all the times I went out by myself at night. I thought of the kids at the pond. I thought of the meeting about the turkey release when the woman from Fish and Game told us “You’d be shocked if you knew how many cougar are lurking around.” I started wondering why Abe had gotten stuck. Earlier in the evening I’d thought he’d just wanted to reach some loose hay, but as I thought back on it I started to see it differently. When we first went down the other cows were already hunkered down in the shed. Maybe the cats had been there and he’d gotten scared and bolted the wrong way. Maybe he was mooing out of fear. Then we came down and the cats had retreated into the bushes until they decided we weren’t a threat. I thanked God Mike had been with me and not Henry. What if I’d left him down there while I’d gone for the sledgehammer. I lay awake for a long time listening to the oppressive silence.

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.

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.

March 20th March Madness

    What is March madness? To many it’s a bunch of basketball games, but to me today it was Pancho and Lefty running down Mosquito Lake Road.

    It all started when I heard Anna, the guard cow, mooing her pretty little head off. She only does this when there’s trouble. Knowing this, I grabbed my camera and ran out on to the front porch. When what should I see, but Irish, Pancho and Lefty looking back at me.

I wondered how they got out. I ran back in the house and called my dad. He immediately came out and together we discovered Andy standing at a wide-open gate. Irish started trying to round them up, but he’s young and all he ended up doing was working Pancho and Lefty in to an absolute frenzy. We put him in the house. I tried to go along side them and move them toward the pasture. This was not working at all. The grass it seems is greener on this side of the fence and they were eating up a storm. My dad yelled for me to go get a bucket of grain. I did and I shook that think like it was a maraca, but nothing. They weren’t interested in the least.

   

We decided to let them calm down for a few minutes when suddenly Lefty decided he wanted no part of Fort Flashback and started heading down the driveway for Mosquito Lake Road with Poncho his trusty companion right by his side. Yes, he even walks on the left. Out they went and kept on going. I was screaming at the top of my lungs and shaking my oats like a crazy person and they didn’t even look back. I wondered for a brief moment if this meant they were on the lamb?
My dad went and got his CRV and I stood helplessly watching.

    Just as we got in the car, contemplating what to do when we actually got close. We didn’t want to scare them off the hill or into a car or anywhere else.

   

       Just then they suddenly turned around and started running back at full tilt. Seriously, today was the day the cows came home. You hear about it, you say it, but now I’ve lived it. Why did they come home? We have no flipping idea. As I said this is March madness. I went to the barn and got a rope to tie around Lefty’s horns as Maryruth taught me. Eventually I got him rigged up. When he has this pink and purple striped rope wound from one horn to the other across his forehead he looks like a humungous hippie.

     Luring him with cow cookies we walked down to the pasture and my dad opened the gate. One down.
Pancho was a little more difficult. He was very happy mowing the lawn behind the house near an old tractor we found on the property. My dad stood on one side so he could keep Pancho from running for the road again. I kept poking him with the cattle stick Little Chris Donaldson gave me. Pancho meandered up by my van

and then headed for the rhododendrons, which I know, are poisonous so we started waving our arms and forcing him down the hill toward the pasture. A while later we got him in the gate. My dad exhausted turned to me and said completely deadpan, “It’s a damn good thing UCLA wasn’t playing or you’d been doing this by yourself”. That’s my dad.

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.