As The Butter Churns

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.” 

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?”

August 6th Together Again

 
Hi Denise!

    Well, here I am, back from a fairly stress-free three week road trip, only to find record breaking heat, electric storms of Biblical proportions, and a half-fried laptop.I know, welcome to YOUR world, right? Still, it is good to be home. Let me tell you about my month; as you know, I had my beloved grandson, Bodhi, visiting me here on the ranch for most of the nonth of June. I took him home to Georgetown, Texas, and we took four days to drive the thousand miles, camping and exploring along the way. We spent a couple of days in the gorgeous town of Santa Rosa, NM  playing in their amazing spring-fed lakes--- what fun! After I got him settled at home, and after a week of "family time" with my daughter and son-in-law in Texas, I decided to go home by way of Lusk, Wyoming, and see the boys. After all, it is only 1200 mile or so longer than a direct shot home - and who knows when I'll be able to take the time (or have the gas money) again? Man, am I glad I did!!! I had more fun in the three days I was in Lusk than I've had in a long time; and it was GREAT to see Pancho and Lefty again!
(tent camping)

    I tent camped on my way up to Wyoming to save some money, and the last night of the drive up, I stayed at the family camp at F.E.Warren Air Force base in Cheyenne. I like to stay on military bases because they are safe, are usually in a beautiful spot, have all the services you could possibly need nearby, and are full of interesting, helpful retired military people. When you are an old lady and you travel alone, these things get very important. Well, the base was GORGEOUS, the campground was full of antelope, (I woke up with one looking into my tent from about six feet away, and he stood there patiently while I got my eyes open and my camera focused), and I couldn't have asked for a more cozy space than the tent area - manicured lawns and big shady trees. Until the freight switching yard started slamming freight cars together at eleven o'clock ant night, 100 feet from my head! The whole tent shoook and vibrated until about four a.m., when they finished and pulled out. I sighed a hugh sigh of relief, lay back down to get a little sleep before I had to hit the road, and then the darn JETS started taking off a couple hundred yards the other way!! All in all, not a very peoceful night! So, as you may imagine, by the time  I got to lusk, another three hours away, I was fairly glassy-eyed and brain-bruised... not the best way to meet people you want to impress.
   (Me and the boys)

    I had talked to Jon and he told me to let him know when I arrived at the county fairgrounds in Lusk - the Niobrara County building is a beautiful facility -  so I called him when I got there at nine. (Not much use trying to sleep in at the AF base!) I knew the moment I saw Lisa. Stevie, and Cole that any worries I had about looking tired or not so perfect were simply rubbish; they welcomed me with open arms and made me feel like one of the family in no time at all. That day Jon showed me around Lusk, and he and Stevie showed me the old stagecoach station and gave me a tour of the area - there is a lot of history there! Lusk is the site of the first American Legion in the country and the last working brothel in Wyoming. (I don't THINK there's a connection there...) Then we went out to see the boys.

    Man, you should see the pasture those lucky oxen are on. At my house they had lots of room, but no grass. At your house they had lots of grass, but limited room. Now they have half a state, and it's covered in wheat! They are in bovine heaven! And best of all, the whole Mellott family GETS them! The entire family connects with them in a way that we could only hope for,,, and the boys return the favor. They are so happy that I felt a huge weight that I didn't even know I had just drop away from the first moment I saw them standing there, every inch of their massive bodies radiating contentment. You did good, Denise! You got them to the best possible place for them to spend the rest of their lives.

 The first day we went out to see them it was too hot to do much, so we just talked to them and looked at the pasture they are in. They were a little wary of seeing me, but were friendly and calm the whole time I was there. HOWEVER, when we returned the next day to hook them up and drag some telephone poles, they were nowhere to be found - they had walked a mile to hide on the other side of a hill! You haven't lived until you have seen two 2800 pound steers trying to look like they aren't there! I laughed until tears came into my eyes. Then we hooked them up and tears came to THEIR eyes!

(Lefty's right nostril - as he tried to eat the camera)

    They worked willingly for Jon, and he did a really good job getting what he wanted from them. He kept saying that he didn't know what he was doing, but he did better than drovers I know that have been working cattle for years. I don't think he knows how rare it is to find someone with that connection naturally, but it sure made me happy - not to mention the boys, who just looked happy to work for someone whose natural gait matched theirs - instead of having to slow down to a saunter for me! Oh, and did I mention that every meal was home-made county fair food and involved pie? Or that they put me up in a local hotel - The Covered Wagon _  was nicer than some five-star resorts I have been to? Or that the ENTIRE town of Lusk is involved in some way with the oxen, if only as a huge admiration society. All in all, it was a great visit, and hopefully next year we can BOTH go to Rawhide and watch the boys (and Jon) make us proud!

(Jon and the boys)

Give my best to my favorite Henry in the whole world - now back to the real world of milking cows and making soap.

Maryruth

April 26th Get Along Little Dogies

   

    I woke up to a gorgeous sun shiny day. They have three hundred and sixty two of these in Los Angeles, but they don’t have that fresh scrubbed mountain air feeling. I’m not a heat tolerant kind of girl. When I was young and my mother would make me play outside, I thought August was just another name for hell.

   

    This morning was full of promise, but I knew too this would be my last morning with Pancho and Lefty. They’d be gone by lunch. I thought I would feel a sense of relief. No more chasing Pancho over hill and dale. But relief is not what I felt. I looked at their fuzzy faces and listened to their foghorn moos wondering if they understood they were leaving. I made sure Henry got a chance to say good-bye before he left for school because I knew they would be gone when he came home.

    When Jon pulled up, out popped two of the sweetest kids I’ve met in a long time, Stevie and her brother Cole. I felt better already. Jon was just as nice as he seemed on the phone and the kids were so comfortable with the dogs and the big boys. We all chatted about life in Wyoming, Elvis the basset hound, school, the women’s prison, Paris and I learned the kids are in 4H. Stevie is raising a black pig .

     Cole and Luther were a natural pair. It was easy to see this kid new his way around a basset hound. In no time at all Luther’s eyes were practically rolled back in his head.

   

    Stevie and Cole fed Pancho and Lefty cookies while I gave Jon all the required paperwork as well as Maryruth’s address - a necessity. And Lefty’s eye ointment just in case. We loaded up the yoke and a bag full bag of cow cookies for the trip.

    Then it was time. Jon pulled the trailer up and Lefty started crying. It was a long sad high-pitched moo I’d never heard him moo before. I don’t know why he did it, probably because he didn’t want to go into the trailer, all I know is I already felt terrible and now I felt worse.  My heart hurt. I’ve never parted with an animal before.

   

Stevie got a rope tied into a halter and started getting them ready. I held Lefty while Jon loaded Pancho. I’d never trailered them so I wasn’t sure how it would go. But the boys didn’t let me down. Pancho went right in, and Lefty about had a breakdown seeing his brother disappear. So he all but ran Jon over trying to get in next to Pancho.

    The doors closed and that was that. At this point Vivian became extremely concerned. She didn’t think the boys should be leaving and didn’t want to let them go. She followed the trailer to the end of the driveway and watched them go up the hill.

    I just stood there for a while listening to the silence. The bells were gone.

    I called Maryruth and she said, “Welcome to my world” with a laugh. “When they left here I cried for a week. I guess we’re all taking a trip to Wyoming.”

April 24th If It's Not One Thing

   

   

    I woke up with a start this morning feeling as though I’d overslept. I checked the clock and I was up strangely early. Sore and creaky from all the hard labor, I dragged myself downstairs looking like a truck hit me. I’d taken a hot shower before going to bed and too exhausted to dry my hair I went to bed. The result is not pretty. I had a little extra time so I chatted a bit longer with Tom over coffee than usual and leisurely made Henry’s lunch. Just as I was inserting the Flavor Blasted Goldfish™ I remembered.

    “Don’t forget Mama my all my paperwork and permission slips are due tomorrow for Mountain School. It’s the last day to turn them in.” Henry said sleepily before he went to sleep last night. Drat. I had forgotten totally I hadn’t even taken them out of the pack. Now, we had to leave in thirty minutes and I wasn’t even dressed. My dad walked in. I’d forgotten, he needed a ride to his car before school – at least it was on the way.

    I set new land speed records getting out of the house. Henry fed the dogs while I did the barn. As I fed Pancho and Lefty hay showered on me and I momentarily thought of my sister the chimpanzee. I’d have to avoid her at all costs. I now truly looked like road kill, but I would stay in the car and with any luck no one would notice me.

    We dropped off my dad and his book at Mt. Baker Automotive and Henry hopped in the front seat.

    “Mama, don’t feel bad about forgetting about me. I forget about you all the time.”

    “Is that somehow supposed to make me feel better?” I gave him the eyebrow lift. “ Anyway, I feel like loser mother of the year, and I truly am sorry. You brought home the papers and you told me to do them and you even reminded me last night. I’m not angry at you, but I know how teachers get when parents don’t turning their slips on time especially since I’m a chaperone.”

    “How about you tell me what to write and I fill in the answers while you’re driving.”

    “That’s a great idea.” So he did all the paperwork including his insurance information and the requisite check. All I had to do when we arrived was sign my name where he’d marked.

    “The only thing missing Honey, are the dates we’re going. Do you remember?”

    “No. I’ll just ask my teacher and fill them in when I get to class.”

    I turned to head home, because after all where else could I go in my condition? And just in front of me was a dark gray Honda Odyssey. Lisa. The phone rang and sure enough she’d seen my car. Luckily, she was on her way to an appointment and didn’t have time to stop. Whew. I continued on my way so far so good. The phone rang again, this time it was my father it seems his car was not ready and he needed me to pick him up. Fifteen minutes later when I pulled into the parking lot I realized he might not see me and I wasn’t going in. I’d call if I had to, but my luck continued and he walked out. They’d have the part for his car a little later so he just wanted a ride to the Extreme Bean and they’d call him there.
No problem as long as I don’t have to get out of the car. The Extreme Bean is also a drive thru and for a moment I considered a hot cup of coffee for the ride home, but vanity got the best of me. I’d go without.

    When I pulled into the driveway I felt elated. I’d made it. I went directly upstairs used the Trader Joes™ Tangerine Sugar Scrub and did my hair. While I was getting ready I started thinking about those Silver Dorkings again. What could I do with twenty-two roosters? I supposed I could give one to each of the kids in Henry’s class. That would make me popular with the PTA.

    I called Dan Cramer and he found some round bales for me and promised to deliver them tomorrow. “Now Denise, are you sure you don’t need anything nothing else? My son’s doing a great workshop on how to harness a team and drive them. It’s all day clinic and people are coming from three states, he serves a beautiful lunch.”

    “Dan I need a lot of things, and I’d really love to go to the clinic but right now we’re not spending any extra money.”

    “OK then. I understand. Oh and I was going to help you get a job wasn’t I? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

    I went upstairs to check on the goslings and found their 100-gallon tub is no longer big enough. They are suffering from overcrowding. They can move around enough and it’s too cold to move them outside still, but I had to do something because they keep knocking over their water dish and food because of these urban conditions. I called Lisa about the pen and because Alfred is injured and I’m really worried about him. I think the others stepped on his leg accidentally when I was transporting them outside. And he won’t stand up for very long. At first, I thought maybe he should just rest, but it’s been a few days now and he isn’t any better. I asked Lisa what to look for and she told me to inspect his joints. She also suggested a tarp and Irish’s puppy pen for their new living quarters. I was just about to set them up in their new digs when Tom called. Sipping my coffee while talking I glanced down into the meadow. I gasped.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s him again.”

“Who him?”

“Pancho.”

I couldn’t believe it. Pancho, or should I call him Houdini was out again and this time he was trying to break back into the pasture. I ignored him and tended to the geese. I knew he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d walk around and eat grass mooing at Anna. He’d used up his dime.

    After the goslings were taken care of I called Kulshan Veterinary as their ad says they do cats to cows. I asked if they did geese. The receptionist said yes they had a poultry doctor. And I could bring the gosling in at 3:45 tomorrow.

    (Alfred is the only one sitting down)

   

“How old is he?”
    “He’s three weeks. Is it ok if I bring another one with me, because I think he’ll flip out if he’s isolated.”

    “Sure that’s no problem. What color is he?”

    “That’s a hard question. He’s molting.”

    “He’s molting? What color is he? He’s molting? That’s a riot.” She laughed so hard I couldn’t believe it. “Well, we’ll see you tomorrow.”  I hadn’t really thought that was Saturday Night Live™ funny, but it’s always good to get a laugh.

With Alfred handled, I went to the barn got a scoop of grain, walked to where Pancho could see me and called his name. I shook the scoop. Pancho came trotting toward me and followed me in the gate. I studied the corral. It didn’t have any breaks and it took me a few minutes to figure out how he’d gotten out, because Lefty was still there. Good old Left.

Well, he’d didn’t go over it. He didn’t go around it. Noooooo. He went UNDER it. That’s correct, he lifted up poorly constructed the green pipe corral fence up with his horns and scooched himself under it. We’d hired some guy to put it together and he apparently had no pride in his work. I’d never really studied it before, but the fence on one side was only tied at the top with red twine.  I tied the bottom with a rope to a fence post. I’d have to have Tom do it right, but for now it should hold. I hope.

    When Mike and Henry arrived home, we set to picking up junk. It seems in rural communities that people section off parts of their properties and just use them as a dumpsite. Living on this land is like going on an Easter egg hunt for old broken down farm equipment. I’ve found all sorts of bizarre things including a car that I can’t for the life of me figure how it got where it is. I have refrigerators and dishwashers and freezers with gunshot holes. Manure spreaders, forgotten tractors from almost every era, tires, stoves, and tables with benches attached that look like belong in a fast-food restaurant. Anyway, I can’t stand the stuff. I have to get it out of here. Now I have already filled up more than five industrial sized roll-offs with sundry construction junk.  The very biggest bins they make, but the minute the bin is gone, things seem to sprout from the ground. Tomorrow we’re having a guy come and take everything away including the appliances because they’re almost impossible to get rid of.

    When we came in Henry handed me a paper with the dates for the chaperone meeting. I was impressed. He was becoming a bit more responsible. I glanced down at the date and marked it on my calendar. I looked for the dates of the actual trip so I could jot them down too. I couldn’t believe it. The dates were May 12-14th. And I had been planning for months and months and months to drive to Seattle on May 13th to go to Charlaine Harris’ book signing. I know it seems piddily, but I’ve read seven of her Sookie Stackhouse Southern Vampire novels and I love them. They make me happy. As my aunt, Lana used to say, “They’re good chewing gum for the eyeballs.” She’s only coming to Seattle for the day and won’t be back for the rest of the year. How perfect it would have been I thought I could have driven to Seattle and Henry would be gone so I wouldn’t have to worry about what to do with him at all and just to add salt in the wound I wouldn’t have had to take him to school the next morning either. The perfect alone time treat. I mourned my opportunity.

I wasn’t done yet, because I’m a terrible mother. I called Toby.

“Maybe you can just leave the field trip for the one night.”

“Are you kidding? Leave? They shoot chaperones at dawn for that. No. I have to either replace myself or go, but I can not leave.”

I cautiously started asking Henry “Maybe you would feel more grown-up if I didn’t go Henry. I know Zach’s mother would like to go. You know some kids don’t like having their parents there they feel more independent.”

    “Well, if you have something more important to do Mama, that’s OK.”

    Sister Sally, you can tell the boy is Catholic. My mother often said, “When it comes to guilt, the Jews may have invented it, but the Catholics perfected it.”

April 11th Pie-Maker Pie-Maker

   
    Since their last great escape, Pancho and Lefty have been serving time in cow jail. And since we haven’t had to go out day after day rounding them up, we can remember what snuggle bugs they really are.

    Having them in the barn creates a completely different set of problems. It may be interesting to note the size of the cow pie is in direct relation to the size of the cow. That being said, it is important to remember that Pancho is the same size as my Honda Odyssey. Needless to say, we spent the day cleaning their stall and filling and filling and filling their water buckets. We don’t have a ginormous water trough up in the barn so we have to keep a close eye on the water levels.

    Much like caring for an infant or anything else, it’s through the diaper changing and constant feedings that you create a close bond. I’d had that feeling after working them on the yoke, but lately chasing them down the road in the rain and mending fences they’d shattered, I’d forgotten it. Until today. Brushing them, talking to them and giving them lots of cow cookies brought those maternal feelings flooding back.

    Realistically, I know we can’t keep them. I made a mistake. They’re just too much for the pasture and me. But I don’t regret them, I met Maryruth Monahan, I learned how to drive oxen and I gained a great deal of cow sense. They taught me a lot and they deserve a good home where they’ll have more room and - hopefully higher fences.

March 29th Comes From Behind

An Icy View Of My Dad's Place And Our House From The Road - Today

(below) Grandpa Horn and Irish before the UCLA game

    Its a snowy wonderland from hell. I woke up this morning to as much snow as we’ve had this year. Enough is enough.

    Henry and I spent the day indoors mostly. We’ve been watching TRU TV. “Forensic Files” and “Murder By The Book”. We were watching one when an episode came on about the murder of Mickey Thompson. My dad was happening by and said, “Geez, you know that was so sad, Mickey was a great guy.”

    “Grandpa? You knew Mickey Thompson?” Henry was agog.

    “Yes, He was going to fund a film I was making, but he was killed before we put the deal together.” My dad replied seriously.

    “Do you want to watch this with us Grandpa?”

    “No. I know enough about it, and to tell you the truth UCLA is playing in just a few minutes. See y’guys later.”

    During commercial I happily went out to the car to get my brand spanking new vacuum cleaner. It’s the little things that brighten a girl’s day.  I don’t need jewelry I just want a DirtDevil™.

    That’s when I found them Pancho and Lefty were out again. The game. Drat. I was on my own. I didn’t even call, I didn’t want to hear the word no at this moment or I’d scream.
“Henry get your coat, put on gloves and I mean it, put on gloves. We’ve got to get the boys. They’re out again and I am going to have to fix that fence. I can’t take this happening every two and a half minutes.”

    Sensing I was on the verge of finding fault with just about anything right now, Henry put the show on pause and quickly got his gear on.

    We went and surveyed the damage.

I thought I’d fix it properly and went to get the DeWalt™. “If you don’t do it right it’s not worth doing” pounded in my head. I found the screws, drill bits, a hammer just in case and went down to mend my fence. Henry alternated between holding rails for me, trying to drill, keeping the cattle from going into the street, hammering and playing with Irish.

    While the snow fell like something out of a survival film I started pulling the rails down so I could get the thing together. Once done, I placed my drill bit in and started drilling a pilot hole so I wouldn’t split the wood. I wasn’t strong enough to get it all the way through. So I put the screwdriver tool on and put a screw in to finish it off. It split the wood. Henry came running when he heard all the yelling.

    “You ok?”
    “I’m fine. I’m mad at your father.”
    “Why?”
    “Because he’s not here and I need him and I’m cold and UCLA is playing that’s why. Now go keep Lefty from eating the rhododendron.”

    I went back to work. I put the rail back in place and tried nailing. I split the wood. I tried again. I split the wood. At this point, I got a spool of the not shiny wire and began weaving the rails together one after the other. I looked over toward the gate when I saw it move and couldn’t believe Henry had gotten Pancho in with the help of Irish.

    “Henry, that was amazing. You didn’t even have any treats.”
    “Thanks Mama, it was Irish. He’s a real cattle dog. He stayed behind him and seemed to understand what I wanted him to do.”

    Hmm. One in and the fence was done. Well, it might not be right, but it was done. Tom can fix it when he comes in a couple of weeks.

 

Now for Lefty and we could go get warm. As Lefty came toward me for the bucket of grain I was holding, Irish went into action. He thought he could come from the side and get Lefty in the gate, but it didn’t work. He scared Lefty and he ran full tilt toward the pond. Hungry, he turned around and came back. I scolded Irish and he seemed to understand what he did wrong. It was like hundreds of years of genetic programming had kicked in. He circled around Lefty’s side and came up from behind him slowly. I walked in front with the bucket yelling in my teacher voice “Step Up Boss! Step Up Now! Haw! Haw!” while Irish quietly but closely walked at Lefty’s heels lest he get any ideas. Henry manned the gate and in he went. Huzzah!!!

    Henry turned to me and said, "Mama, you need a shower." Covered in mud from head to toe, we put our tools away - or face Tom's wrath later. Fed the goats and Miracle. Gave them fresh water and closed up the barn for the night.

    After almost three hours we went inside and watched Mickey and Trudy Thompson get justice.

(my helper)

March 24th Stop The Madness

Knowledge is power, but ignorance is bliss.

I woke up this morning to a beautiful blanket of snow everywhere I looked, if I’d known last night during the power outage that my pipes could have frozen I would have been a nervous wreck. Luckily, I had no idea of the plumbing peril I was in.

Later in the day, Little Chris called and said he won 4th place and enough money to cover his costs in his very first professional rodeo. Thrilled, I told him he’d have to come out with Steph and celebrate.

“We should wait until there’s really something to celebrate.”
“No. No. No. We don’t ever wait to celebrate, my mother always said ‘celebrate everything especially the small steps along the way.”

“I like that. OK, I’ll give you a call.”

Excited over Little Chris’s news I dialed Tom and relayed the news, while I chatting with him about the rodeo, I glanced outside and noticed almost all the snow had melted. And then I saw them. Pancho and Lefty were out again.

I checked the basketball schedule. My luck was holding UCLA wasn’t playing.  My dad in his slippers rounded up Pancho.

While generous of spirit, reluctant cowboy Mike in his permanent press slacks coaxed Lefty back to the pasture.

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.

   

       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.

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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 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.

December 2nd Snow Place Like Home

   

    Christmas is here. Henry and I have started our seasonal marathon of Christmas celebrations. And although we’re not going to have a tree or decorations, we have decided to send out Christmas cards. We figure, we need to let our friends and relatives know we’re alive and that we’re still trying to make a go of things.

    What to put on the card that is the question. In past years, I’ve dressed Henry and my rottweilers, Josephine and Gladys as the three Wise men. “Gold Frankincense and Grrr”. One year they were Santa and reindeer. We considered using Miracle some how, but I didn’t think my friend Sister Sally would think a picture of our donkey wearing a wreath and “Our Christmas Miracle” was a good idea. We thought of doing a nativity inthe barn with Luther as the baby Jesus, but that seemed too irreverent. We kept thinking. I got a bee in my bonnet and decided to put halos on some of the cattle. A holy cow thing.
     I went to Fred Meyer™ and found some silver garland, got some of the leftover wire we used on the fence and fashioned a kind of halo. I wanted it to stand up more, but given that I was fastening it on an ox, I thought I did pretty well.

    Yet, after looking at the pictures, they just didn’t say what I wanted to say. I decided to try again and this afternoon just as it was getting dark 3:00PMish I took Henry dressed in his colonial garb out to the pond with Luther. At the last minute, I grabbed one of the paraffin lanterns I bought at Fred Meyer™ in anticipation of the power outages. The pond, the snow, the moon and two of my favorite fellows, it just felt more like a Christmas card should.

  I came in, downloaded the pictures and emailed them to Tom. He agreed.

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.

November 5th Anticipation

 

  This has been a frosty run-around-and-do-errands kind of day. I went to the feed store and got cow cookies also known as packer pellets, alfalfa pellets, grain and a pair of pink overalls for Phoebe. I couldn’t resist them -so cute for the fashionable yet serious farm girl.

    I eyed Farmopoly™ for Henry because he and Tom simply love Monopoly™. Personally, I can’t stand it. Not that there is anything wrong with the game, but as a kid, my mother was a ruthless, unfeeling chortler. She would revel in my financial demise, and I have never enjoyed it.  My mother would laugh at me tell me perhaps I needed therapy – both my grandmother and my grandfather were psychiatrists. I decided against the game. Next, I went to the tractor supply store and got hydraulic fluid. This is a store not used to women. Everything comes in giant drums and there are a lot of men in overalls and sweaty farm hats calling me “darlin”

    Suddenly, as I whiz through Big Foot Java acquiring my grande drip I realize I’m going to be having my first real house guest tomorrow and I’m not prepared. Maryruth is finally coming to give me my oxen lessons. I had completely spaced. I knew she was arriving, but I'd been so caught up in the daily chores etc. I hadn't considered preparing for her. What was I thinking? I can’t ask a woman I’ve never met to sleep in that room without a few niceties. I realized there weren’t sheets for the guest bedroom or a comforter cover so I made a quick stop at Target™. And picked up some nice but inexpensive things.I still needed  a little rug for her feet when she gets out of bed, got that handled at Ross™

    When I got home, I scrounged up one of the bedside tables stuffed in the garage and I found a reading lamp that hadn’t found a home yet in the shop.

    The room is still strange with gaping holes in the drywall that lead downstairs to the furnace room. Creepy. I put a piece of wood there as a blockade. Around the top of the room is a wallpaper border of teddy bears. Henry and Phoebe think they’re evil. Always staring at them from beneath their sunbonnets with their little dresses and tiny little bow ties. Unfortunately, it’ll have to do for now. At least it’s relatively clean and private.

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.

September 29th Bully For You

    Lefty and Pancho remind me of Hans and Franz.

I can’t help it, when I look at them I start hearing German accents and a whole dialogue goes through my head. They’d make great-animated characters for Pixar™.
Lefty, has more white on his face and his legs are white. He’s the more playful one with the little guys Abe and Andy. Pancho is the leader of the pack. I was yelling at him to get back and telling him he was nothing but a big bully. Then I stopped. Hmm. Bully of course.

   

    You can hear bells ringing from morning ‘til night. I was never one for wind chimes, but it’s sort of relaxing. I feel like I’m in Switzerland or in the colonies I guess.

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.