Range to Range

Rearrangement Derangement

2012-02-18T11:24:00.000-08:00

There was once a time in my life, when I constantly moved furniture. Everything would feel homey and inviting until one day I was sure it all needed to be rearranged and after a back-wrenching day I would fall back, satisfied and watch as the family staggered and groped their way through the new changes. (Always funny until I came back from vacation to find my visiting mother had rearranged my kitchen) I finally outgrew the furniture moving phase of my life and began rearranging barns, arenas and kennels. Randyman, fine fellow that he is, always obliged me as I reconfigured everything to accommodate my teaching and training. The arena was stretched to accommodate the jumping horses, mare motels were moved from the ranch to the residence and back, gates were changed, new gates were made, things were squeezed to contain the horses for special needs riders, split to accommodate the trail obstacles and so on and so forth. Oh the good old days!

These days things are a little bit simpler. Well..sort of. Changes are always in motion as I try on different combinations to see what is going to best work in the future. Now that Cletapotamus and Bruno are with us, protecting the stock, the chickens get to free range. We have 30 more meatie chicks arriving in April for Cletus to raise and they, of course, will be outside again, as they are enormous, pooping machines. EmmaLouMoo will have to be dried up around that time, so they will get to inherit her small corral and shelter.

There are plans for a really big production vegetable garden this year, new fruit trees have been planted, along with a grape and I THINK I have a currant bush on the way...perennial flowers have been planted and I have already got seedlings started so the chickens and dogs had to all be evicted from the back yard. The pups love to run through everything and Cletus has a hole digging fetish. Their first year, I fell into many bottomless pits as the snow gave way above them when I passed over on the way to feed the critters.

There is a low fence by the chicken/lambing shed one one side of the yard, but the other has only pipe corral panels which both chickens and dogs negotiate without too much problem. My plan was to put wire there and effectively lock the chickens out, let Bruno or Cletus chicken spend their days in the new ‘chicken corral’, while the other goes out in the back pasture with the sheep. Randyman took the 6’ high heavy duty chain link kennel panels and gate and used those to wall off that side of the yard. It was perfect. I could access the chicken pen, use the alley to run goats or sheep through, and lock everyone in, or out, as I choose.

Triumphant, I finished milking Emma and headed to the house. A short time later I peeked out the window to see Stickman, the Blue Andalusian rooster, two of the Speckled Hamburg psycho hens and a Rhode Island perusing my yard, digging up flowers and pecking their way through my newly transplanted black berries. Randyman had wondered if they would go over the low 4’ fence or not. They didn’t. They FLEW over the 15’ high roof of the shed!!! As soon as I get an accomplice, we will be sneaking into the hen pen by night and clipping some wings.

I will never accept defeat.

Other than the rebel girls flying into my yard, things went swimmingly well. Bruno had chick duty and Cletus was out in the 'back 40' watching sheep. I thought, with them suitably contained, that I could safely ride the 4 wheeler up to the ‘mail room’ where our mail is delivered. I no sooner arrived, than 2 big Polarbears were at my side. I have NO idea how they got out. Cletus, I know would be able to access holes in the fence as that 20 acre pasture has several, but Bruno was definitely contained. He had to scale SEVERAL fences in order to get out. What was the MOST scary, is that he got to me so quickly! It became clear to me that they are staying where I put them, out of obedience or choice, not because they cannot escape. I guess thats a good thing. I returned them to their posts. Bruno found a nice spot in Emma’s corral to nap while the chickens pecked through the straw in her shelter and Cletus went halfway down the pasture and laid down with the sheep. Gotta love these dogs!

This morning it was windy and snowing when I got up. I was a little late getting out to milk EmmaLou and Randyman had already fed. Rosemary complained about needing her bottle but her gut was SO distended when I saw her, I was afraid she was bloating like her mama had. I carried her into the house and found a dosing gun. I got some baking soda water and some oil into her and the distention started to go down. As I am sick, and its so cold out, I decided she needs to stay with me for most of the day so I can keep an eye on her. It only took a few minutes for her to stop crying about being removed from the flock. She began to follow me all around the house, through the kitchen, into the pantry, on through the bedroom and bathroom...She is happily settled at my feet, like a dog. I am pretty sure I am creating a monster, but she seems quite content. Cider could surely use some lessons from her on how to heel.

As she is having some difficulty negotiating between the sofa and the trunk, I may have to rearrange some furniture...

The Tractor Whisperer

2012-02-13T11:00:00.000-08:00

It’s winter again and that means Randyman is brushbeating and mowing down sagebrush. So much of the ranch has been lost to sagebrush in the last 50 years, its remarkable. The fields he has already finished now have lots of grass and feed for the cows, deer and antelope, and some of the grasses are over our heads when we are horseback.

There is a lot of ground to cover and its slow tedious work. Randyman came in and asked if I “wanted to drive tractor”.

This is not the first time he has asked. I have determined that Randyman is one of those folks that just doesn’t learn very fast. For almost 2 decades, he has known that I have “tractor-phobia” and driving even a small one causes my heart to race, sweat to break out on my brow, the muscles in my neck and shoulders contract like steel and my breathing becomes irregular. I am pretty sure that falls into the phobia category. It’s worse than seeing a spider. At least with one of those, I have the presence of mind to grab a shotgun if its big enough and protect myself. A tractor, I just climb inside and wait to die.

He then asked if I would go down to “High Corner” several miles down the road, to pick him up. He would then drive me home and go back so he had a pick up truck to drive back in when he was done.

I pulled past the cattle guard and down the road to where one big tractor was parked as he drove up in another. He looked pitiful to me...there was so much work to do and it goes so slowly, so in spite of myself I asked.

“Is it scary? Are there ditches? Would I have to go fast?”

Of course he denied all of the above.

“You would have to teach me. None of this ‘here’s the throttle, there’s the bucket’ and jumping out and leaving me like you usually do. You really have to teach me. I want to ride around with you for awhile so I know what its SUPPOSED to feel like. I have no idea what this thing is supposed to do, or feel like, or how to do it, or how to keep it from doing it!”

He agreed and I managed to climb up into the belly of the beast. We took off at a roaring 2 or maybe 3 mph and bounced across the field. There was most certainly a ditch at the other end. I could tell it was big enough to break all of my teeth should we drive the thing into it and imagined all kinds of worse case scenarios.

He turned just in time and we headed another direction, bouncing and shifting around, mowing the large chunks of sagebrush that had been run over with a crusher the winter before. He offered me NO information, so I had to ask.

I found out that ‘that’s’ the brake, that’s the throttle for the PTO, that’s a gear shift.

Pretty much just the basics...of course there are lots of dials, other levers, and other buttons in the thing which makes it incredibly confusing for me, and not a little un-nerving as I have no idea what they are all for, or what the consequences might be of accidentally hitting one. I’m not one of those people that likes to try it just to find out.

I asked how he knew where to go, which way to turn and was told "You just know. You just do it".

THAT was a big help.

He insisted we switch places and I drive and he would ride for a lap. I didn’t feel ready but I did it. We were heading for the ditch. I had no idea which way to turn when I got there, only that if I turned too sharp the mower behind would damage the big tire and I couldn't let THAT happen...I began to panic and told him I wanted to stop. (He had yet to TEACH ME HOW). After a small apoplectic fit, he told me to step on the clutch and we stopped.

He then told me I could drive this big hunk of tin and he would drive the other one. I had merely to drive over the rows he would make and leave behind.

“NOT until I know I can start and stop without a problem!"

Several starts and stops later...(which comprised of putting in the clutch, popping it in gear, DON’T leave the clutch in too long, put the PTO to 15, but JUMP it UP to a bit over 21 ASAP before you get going, keep looking back, look for smoke, make sure you are getting both sides mowed, watch out for big rocks, use this lever to raise the mower if you hit one, only put it down to this level above the ground, here is how you raise the wings...yada yada yada.)he climbed down.

I felt I had the starting and stopping down anyway. He left and I took off, spending the next couple of hours mowing away, leaving a clean field behind us as we worked our way to the bottom. My hands, shoulders and arms hurt from anxiety, but my heart was happy because I felt I had been of some service to both him and the ranch.

I headed home to feed Rosemary her bottle. She is doing quite well and has become very greedy. She knows her name, and in sheep-speak it apparently means “bottle”. She's getting very fat.

I have been putting the Maremma pups out with the sheep during the day as I would like them to pay closer attention to the sheep only. The calves require little protection and if I am worried about the goats, I can always kick them in with the sheep. The dogs were beginning to get too guardy of me and the area around our house. They would prefer to nap on the back porch where they can see more, but I am determined to have my way, so they have been putting up with the sheep by day and patrolling the ranch by night. Cletus doesn't mind much, as he considers them all his pets.

Next morning I fed Rosemary, milked EmmaLouMoo, processed everything, did breakfast dishes, put in laundry and headed out to High Corner again. I climbed up into the ‘belly of the beast’ and took off, mowing down my little rows that had been left by Randyman’s tractor. After a couple of hours, I got into some really big sagebrush and the mower caught a big old gnarly stump and started dragging it. The amps or whatever they are on the PTO meter began to bog down so I stopped, lifted the mower, backed up, re set it, put in my clutch, popped into gear, ran it to 15 then quickly to 21 and took off again. I happily mowed for another hour or so, feeling quite the farmer.

The pattern changed down lower where there was another ditch. Without direction, I had to make a decision where to go, and how to proceed. I managed with a minimum of hyperventilating and continued on my new course. I was pretty sure I had done it all correctly and when I saw Randyman stopped up by the road, I finished my last row and headed over to him.

I remembered what he had said about pushing a lever down, and pulling a button out and turning off the key. I did so, and he raced over and in an unusually loud booming voice said “TURN IT BACK ON!!”

I turned it back on.

The man who never speaks and can only be heard by canines with extremely acute eardrums when he DOES, had something to say.

“You wouldn’t turn the pickup off like that when you stop!”

“Yes I would.” said I.

“Well you aren’t supposed to.”

“But you always do. We drive to town, park, and you turn off the pickup”. I answered.

“Well, yes, but its been idling thru traffic.”

“Well, I wasn’t driving fast in the field.” I reminded him.

“IF you were driving a long way on the freeway, and you got a flat tire, you would’t pull over and turn off the engine.”

“Yes, I would.”

“YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO!”

“I didn’t know that.”

“WELL YOU SHOULD.”

“I am not a mechanic. I was a horse trainer. I do not know how to take care of your trucks and tractors. I only know what you TAUGHT me, and that was how to turn it on and off. So I turned it off.”

“Well, now you know.”

“Yes. Now I will only have to remember how to turn it on and when I am done, I will climb out and leave it for you to turn off when you think its ready.”

There were one or two other things pointed out to me, such as the small difference in the height of the grass after I had rescued the mower from the gnarly sagebrush.

I came home and ate peanutbutter on sourdough tortillas, followed by buttered popcorn which I think is comfort food.

I don’t think farming is one of my 'gifts' or is going to be in my future. In fact, I think I have already forgotten how to turn it on.

The Tractor Whisperer is going to have some long days ahead of him. Maybe I will send him with some cookies.

Trials and Triumphs

2012-02-09T11:53:00.000-08:00

In spite of some pain I have been living with lately, its been a good week. Our fruit trees and the grapevine I ordered arrived and Randyman got them planted. I am really looking forward to the garden this year. I got the trees roped off so the pups cannot break them off at the base, like the LAST tree I had. In addition to that, the boss got us a phone that works here on the ranch, that we can actually hear on, not that I want a lot of phone calls. It’s been wonderful not having my day interrupted constantly. It’s just for doctors, emergencies, and family.

I was able to download 30 free books on kindle, which made a difficult night go faster. I woke up ready to face the day, when I saw Randyman walk into the bedroom. I could tell by his face something was terribly wrong.

My stomach lurched as he told me that Rosemary’s mama was dead. He found her laying in the alleyway, looking like she might have bloated. She was fine at dinnertime, in fact, the boss’ wife and I were admiring the sheep and how great they all looked. It was a real shock. It was Stewie’s dam I have been concerned about about, what with the difficult birth and all, not Rosemary’s. She’d had no problems and had lambed almost a month ago.

I had to gather my thoughts and process it. I was grateful I had not lost EmmaLouMoo, or one of the dogs. I am very sorry to have lost this good ewe, but there is always a reason, even if we do not see it. The only way to deal with this kind of heartache is to trust my own Shepherd. He’s walked me through far more difficult places than this, so I know I can trust Him completely. As soon as I wrapped my mind back around this fact, I had my light in the darkness.

At least Rosemary, the little ewe lamb, will become easy to handle after being bottle fed and she did get an excellent beginning to life as she had a very good mama for her first three weeks.

I have to think something in the hay was suspect, as EmmaLou was also sick this week. The other sheep are all fine though, so I cannot be certain of it. Whatever it was, it was very sudden. She was fine in the evening, and gone by morning. Having animals is a great privilege and a joy, but can sometimes be heartbreaking.

Being dam-raised for nearly a month, Rosemary is not terribly social. I spent some time in the morning trying to catch her, but decided not to cause her more stress than she was already going through. Later in the afternoon I saw her napping and was able to stealthily enter the pen and snatch her by a hind leg as she tried to escape. I lifted her into my arms and huffing and puffing, managed to get her through 2 gates and the several hundred feet to the house. My hands, wrists and legs hurt tremendously as there was nowhere to stop and rest and she is incredibly heavy for a month old lamb. I couldn’t put her down anywhere as she would not let me catch her again. The pups followed us in the house, checked her over, then laid down to nap, while I tried to fill a little tub with hot water to put a bottle in. I had made the bottle earlier in the day with fresh milk from EmmaLouMoo and just needed to bring it back up to 100 degrees. Trying to do all this, with my hands hurting and a solid chunk of a lamb in my arms was exceedingly difficult. Randyman showed up for lunch JUST in time. He helped keep her quiet while I got the bottle in her mouth. She fought a little bit, but after not too very long, she began to suck and she drank all that I was willing to give her.

Randyman carried her BACK to the sheep pen to be with her friends. He says his back hurts and estimates she already weighs about 45 pounds. She is HUGE for a month old ewe. My bummers didn’t weigh that for several months. I hope we can keep her thriving, without her mother here to feed her. I found an old shepherds hook up in the shop, so I can catch her again without too much work and get some more milk down her. Hopefully the change won’t upset her stomach too much.

Feed time came and I gave the sheep their hay. Rosemary tucked herself in behind the feeder to nibble on alfalfa leaves and I was able to snag her hind leg with my hand and drag her out. My friend “D” showed up and helped steady her while she made quick work of a bottle.

This morning Randyman and I herded all the sheep into a little room and re vaccinated all of them to insure none of them die from clostridium, which may or may not be what killed MamaC. She was boostered in December and should have been ok, but there is no telling if she had been vaccinated before I got her so one shot might not have been sufficient. Better to be safe than sorry. I also gave some anti biotics to Madge and infused her in case of any infection from the difficult birth, where I had to intervene.

I captured Rosemary and once she started on her bottle I was able to set her down and allow her to stand. That is a big improvement from last nite. I hope to give her 4 bottles a day, as close to 32 ounces as I can, as I only have a 10 oz bottle that fits the nipple. So a light feed in the afternoon and a full bottle before bedtime should do her ok.

Rosemary has begun hanging out with little Stewie, who is more than willing to accept her company.

Still, I would like her to buddy up to the dogs more, as Stewie can't protect her if she gets in trouble and she has no Mama to look out for her now. I reconfigured the sheep pen so I could contain the Maremmas in there. They are almost 2 now and since all the stock is pretty much contained this time of year, I would like them to become more closely bonded to my sheep. My intention is that they will follow them around during the day while they are grazing and not be so concerned about watching every pasture. At night they will be free to patrol their boundaries. They have been spending way too much time at the back door, so its time to put them to work guarding full time, as they are mature and experienced enough now, for all I can tell. They aren’t thrilled about it, but such is life.

“D” came over at noon to help capture Rosemary for her #2 feeding. She had the bottle as I wanted to get a picture of Rosemary so I can compare and make sure she doesn’t lose condition over the next few weeks. We decided to see if she would come to the bottle...and she did. Her suction was so great, “D” was able to drag her all the way to a nice sitting-on stump without losing her.

So far, so good.

I expect in another day or two, she will run to me for her bottles and get over grieving the loss of her mother. I hope I will too. Life is still good.

Even the Sparrow

2012-02-01T11:52:00.000-08:00

I find Cletapotamus' sophistication astounding.

He is a never ending source of entertainment, as well as an incredible Livestock Guardian. This is his "Superdog" pose. All he lacks is a cape, a phone booth and the ability to become airborne.

I don’t know if its because it’s winter or if it’s because our friend, the Executive Chef, was here to spend a month, but I am really excited about food. First of all, I know that we could not even afford to EAT dinner at one of the establishments he is qualified to cook for, yet, he comes for a month every year and fixes us dinner every night, plus helps me with special treats. Every year he calls and asks us to think of what we want him to show me how to make. Unbelievable. I wish I was a better student, but perhaps its best that I am not. I am not known for my powers of self control and a person can only endure so much growth, if you get my drift.

Last night's dinner was just stupendous. I took 2 of the meatie chickens we raised, out of the freezer. After picking rosemary, thyme and some garlic I chopped it up and stuffed it under the skin, like he did. I sprinkled kosher salt and some more herbs over the skin, tossed a quartered onion in the cavity with some leafy celery, poured some fresh made, melted butter over it and set it in my well soaked clay baker. This is something that is worth the purchase, even if all you ever do with it is make chicken. It just makes the most amazing, moist and flavorful chicken you ever had and the drippings make an amazingly flavorful chicken stock. Mine is by Romertopf and is a large one, able to easily hold 2 chickens. I dropped some red potatoes in...sadly I was out of carrots, so we had to do without. I will be stocking up on baby carrots next trip to town and canning them, as we will NOT go without again! Next year, I will be canning the carrots out of the garden as well as leaving some in the ground with straw, to store. I have heard leaving them out they get even sweeter. I don’t know this for myself, so I will have to find out. The really wonderful thing about this meal, is that if my garden doesn't fail again this year, I could prepare this without any purchased ingredients. We grew the chickens, the rosemary and thyme and should be able to supply our own onion, carrots and potatoes next year. The butter of course, is my own. This is the kind of eating I would like to do for a lifetime cutting our grocery bill down to an absolute minimum, things like salt and sugar.

Randyman had company for dinner. I think he might be guilty of bribery from time to time.

Setting everything in the pot made for a really easy to prepare supper and gave me 2 hours free to myself as I finished cleaning the cabin across the way today.

During this time, I checked on my apple cider vinegar that I am attempting to make. It has no more bubbles coming up, so its not still fermenting. It smells strong enough to just about knock your hat off, so I think its doing very well. I strained it and covered it again and will wait and see what happens. I can’t wait and I hope it grows a ‘mother’ so I can keep some going. Real raw apple cider is supposed to be really, really good for you.

I threw all the bones and veggies left from last night’s chicken dinner onto a baking sheet with some onions and peeled chicken feet. Yes, chicken feet. They are supposed to be the ultimate in making great chicken stock, and they have lots of good stuff in them, like natural glucosamine chondroitin and collagen. Our friend says they make a fantastic stock and I have read it on the chicken boards as well, so when we had the meaties processed, I told them we wanted the feet. So in they went.

After some web surfing, I found an awesome site called GNOWFGLINS with lots of great tips on real food. I was inspired to start using my sourdough again, so I took what I had saved out of the freezer and rehydrated it. I need a new container as it looks just like my jars of buttermilk culture, only with bubbles. It would be a disaster to mix them up.

Later in the afternoon, I went to check on the sheep, as Madge, the only purebred looking Dorper, seems to be preparing to lamb. Her bag doubled in size in one day. All the sheep ran to see me but her...she laid down looking very uncomfortable. Then she acted like she was begining labor.

I went to get my camera.

I came back with my friend “D” and her camera. Madge, the ewe, decided to put things off for a good long while. I conned her into following me into the lambing shed so I could feed the other animals. Just after dark, Randyman showed up and agreed to put the camera in the shed, which meant moving 500’ of cable and walking along the top of the 100 year old 8’ high rockwall with it in the pitch dark, with lose stones, but he survived. We finally got it all hooked up.

With all the commotion going on, I had no time whatsoever to fix some dinner. I am glad I canned all those meals last month, as we pulled some venison stew off the shelf and heated it up. It tasted wonderful and was a lot quicker than if we lived in the city and ordered 'fast food', which was good, cuz we were both hungry from skipping breakfast and lunch. Sometimes we get so busy we can forget to eat, but I don't mind. I can surely live off the 'fat of the land' for awhile.

Randyman and Cider went to bed, I watched Madge. She seemed to be in labor, but nothing was happening. Nothing. She would get up, lay down, push. Nothing. She’d rest. I figured maybe she was just positioning babies. I left messages on all the internet sheep boards I knew of for info. The general consensus was “wait”. By 10 p.m. She was in obvious distress. She was pushing a LOT and still no signs of a baby, waterbag, or anything else. I was concerned it had just been going on too long, as nothing about her delivery seemed very normal to me. By 11 pm, I had gathered up some surgical gloves, a bottle of betadine and some super lubricant.

I sat with her for awhile before she decided she really would let me help her. I went in with the glove and found a foot...it felt like it was in the right position, so I searched around and found another. There isn’t much room in the birth canal of a sheep for a lamb AND a hand. I am used to foaling mares which at this point, it seems to me, is a whole world easier.

There was a very large head above the front legs, so if this was all one lamb, he was in good position, but much too large to fit through the exit before him. I continued searching around blindly, to make sure the legs didn’t belong to a different lamb that might be trying to exit at the same time, but it was just one. I waited for her to push again and I pulled...and pulled...and got nowhere.

There was no traction and he was not moving.

I had lubed her up well as she seemed to be having a ‘dry birth’. What helped to dislodge him also made it harder to pull him because it was so slippery.

I kept working on him, finally having to remove the gloves and found some baling twine which I tied around his front feet and pulled some more. It was midnite by the time she and I got him delivered. Bruno had wandered in at some point and was watching from behind me. Surprisingly to me, the lamb was very much alive, even after all the time he had been crammed in the birth canal with no progress. I made sure he didn’t have any fluid in his mouth and lungs and set him in front of her so she could see what a good job she had done. I sat back and waited to see if there was a twin on the way, while she and Bruno set to work drying off the little buttstopper.

It wasn’t long before I was certain there was no twin.

After a good long time, I also realized she was NOT going to let him nurse. I had to mash her up against the wall and hold her so he could get his first, life giving, immunity boosting colostrum. This carries all the antibodies necessary to protect him for the first few weeks of his life.

I pondered the past couple of weeks and what bad shape I have been in from my RA. I haven’t been able to use my hands much as my wrists and fingers as well as my shoulders have been really weak and painful, but today, I wasn’t having any such problems, even after spending 2 days of cleaning a cabin, mopping floors and such. The timing was perfect, although I hardly think it was coincidence. A lot of praying went on during this labor and I think even though there was a lot of difficulty, I never felt alone. I think Someone who cares about my sheep, as well as myself, Someone who even counts the sparrow, was guiding us through the process.

All was well, so I headed back to the house. As I watched them on the monitor, it was clear she was not only going to keep him from nursing, but was trying to hurt him in doing so.

Finally at 3 am I thawed out some goat colostrum from last years kidding and brought him to the house to give him a bottle. He drank hungrily, while I argued with Cider not to keep licking him and get him all wet again.

Cider is worse than Cletus. He thinks every baby animal is his to mother. He tends to knock them over and lick the hide and hair clean off of them if we allow him. He’s great for bringing weak calves around, but not so great with the little critters. Bruno doesn’t let him near the lambs or kids, but Bruno he was outside on patrol again, while I tended the lamb.

After he was dry and fed, I took him back to his mother. Bruno and Cletus who had finished their short rounds, came with me and checked him all over throughly and cleaned up the shed. I finally hit the bed at almost 5 a.m.

This morning came pretty early. I got up later than planned, at 7:30, with only a couple hours of sleep. I headed back out with the boys to hold her again while the lamb, whom I have named “Stewie” nursed. She didn’t fight nearly as much.

I got the wagon and the milker and milked EmmaLou, fed the chickens and checked Madge’s water. After I processed the milk, I checked the monitor and saw she is letting Stewie nurse all by herself. It’s beginning to snow and my wrists and hands are getting painful again, but there is no emergency in front of me now.

Life is good.

Creme de le Creme

2012-01-25T12:02:00.000-08:00

Check out the cream line on these jars of milk. EmmaLouMoo is not ALWAYS this generous, but I do get a half gallon of heavy cream from her every day.

As I bump along in my life, it occurs to me how much nicer a lot of homemade products are and how expensive it is to buy them.

I can’t help but think how throughout my lifetime they vilified butter and pushed margarine, only to later discover margarine is very unhealthy for you, whereby real butter actually has many health benefits and as a complete product is good for you. I have to be suspect of something that never goes bad...I heard margarine is 1 molecule shy of being plastic and I suspect its true. Cool whip is another product I find disturbingly stable.

The same vicious and biased battle has been waged over Crisco and Lard (look up the history of it, Crisco was not even meant to be food.) The egg has been victimized as well as real milk, grains and just about everything else. I just can’t bring myself to eat substitutes. There is nothing like the real thing and I believe God knew what He was doing when He put it all together for us. I don’t think you can improve on raw ingredients.

I for one, cannot survive eating just vegetables and even if I could, there would not be much satisfaction in it for me. I have to consider that no matter what I eat, if its not done in moderation and balance, even WATER can be toxic. Yes, there is a woman who died from drinking too much water. She did it all at once but none the less, it proves my point. The food is not the problem. Our appetites and behaviors are the problem.

I had to chuckle some years ago, as I read a post from a woman who wanted some ideas of meals she could make for her Grampa. Apparently Grandma had passed on some years before, leaving him alone and in his 90’s. He still lived alone and stubbornly refused help from anyone for anything, doing his own house work and even gardening. She thought maybe he would accept some pre-made dinners. She made the comment “he doesn’t eat healthy like we do, he just eats things like meat and potatoes and such.”

...and yet he is 90, and lives independently. That says something about so called ‘healthy eating’ to me.

So much of our life is centered around food. We have ‘dinner parties’, meet people at restaurants, have folks over for meals, plan dates around food, fond memories and character are built around the family dinner table and it’s the gathering place for most all holiday celebrations. It’s just a very important part of life and sustenance, there is no getting around it.

To me, if it’s real food, its ok to eat. Everything from wood pulp to human hair is being processed and added to our daily food chain in order to increase profits. Factory farming injects everything from growth hormones to unimaginable stuff into our meat products to increase the weight. Nearly everything you buy in the store has things you cannot even pronounce, much less spell. Nothing is done to increase value, just profit. There was once a time when turning out a superior product was the goal of most companies, now it’s frequently to see what they can get away with.

Along with all the processed and synthetic foods there seems to be a rise in autoimmune diseases (I know, as I am a victim), heart disease and all kinds of other maladies. If we think this is not linked to the way we eat, we are kidding ourselves. I really think my diet in my younger years contributed greatly to the problems I suffer from now. I do know that even though Randyman and I consume an AWFUL lot of ‘unhealthy’ animal fats, because I cook only with real butter, lard and use lots of milk products, we raise lamb, chicken and beef and I feel better than I did years before. I believe this is because our food is more natural and other than his addiction to soda pop and chips, we don’t eat anything processed. I make our bread, our broth, our dairy products and just about everything else.

I am a raw milk advocate, because I know firsthand, the benefits it has brought me personally. I do, however, understand the need for pasteurization of commercial milk, because of the often incredibly unsanitary conditions it goes through during processing. Not everyone is in a position to have their own goat or cow. Never the less, there are things you can do at home, to improve the quality of your dairy products, even if you cannot get good clean raw milk. You can make your own milk products, saving money, producing a superior product and controlling what goes INTO your body.

So, even if someone is not fortunate enough to have a goat or cow, there are things that can be made better and cheaper without much work, from (ugh) commercial milk and cream.

Now, bear in mind, I DO have a cow...and goats, so I have never made anything with commercial milk. But you can.

Some of these things are just plain decadent. You may not need them often, but when you do, why not just make it yourself? WE can still take pride in producing a superior product, even if commercial manufacturers do not. Our friend the chef, lauded the flavor and quality of my butter, cream cheese, sour cream and other stuff, which made me smile pretty much all over. He has asked me to freeze it and ship it to him, as he loves it.

Cream Cheese is almost sinfully easy to make. It’s one of my favorites, as it is practically foolproof and I do so love a good cheesecake. It’s also great to mix up with some powdered sugar for blintzes, or to dump some jalapeno jelly, or chili sauce with crab over for a great dip and let’s not forget cream cheese icing on top of carrot cake or homemade cinnamon rolls.

I use 3 quarts of heavy cream to 1 quart of milk, or even half and half. Warm it to 86 degrees, stir in 2 TBL of live cultured buttermilk, using an up and down motion to stir, not round and round, then put 2 DROPS of rennet in 1/4 cup of cool water, mix it into the cream , cover with a clean cloth and let it sit for 12 hours. I put the cream pot in a larger pot of hot water to do this, so I don't burn the cream with direct heat.

After 12 hours you should have a curd mass, so carry it to the sink, and CAREFULLY ladle it into a muslin lined colander.
I use a cheese ladle.

Make sure its a BIG piece of muslin as this makes a LOT of cream cheese. Tie up the corners of the cloth, hang it over the sink, or over a bowl to drain for another 12 hours and thats it. I use a big jelly bag.

Amazing how much money they charge for this stuff in the store.

You CAN adjust the amount of heavy cream to milk to affect both the flavor and the calorie content of the finished product.

Buttermilk, by the way, is a ‘mesophilic culture’. There are other cultures that fall in that category, even clabbered milk, which you CANNOT get from pasteurized milk as all the beneficial bacteria in it has been destroyed. But live culture buttermilk is one type of this culture and can be used for lots of different stuff, like making cheeses.

Use this same buttermilk to culture a half gallon of heavy cream for making cultured butter. The resulting butter will be more flavorful, break faster and give a better yield than just plain old sweet cream butter. I always have this visual of cultured butter at the opera or museum, but it’s just not so.

I put a bit in my jar of cream and let it sit out over night or for a day or so until it thickens. (cover loosely) Pour it into your KA with the whip and a cover (definitely one of those pour covers) let her rip. When the butter breaks, you will have little rice sized pieces of butter clumping up. Strain the new buttermilk into a sterile quart jar and save to culture the next batch and to bake with. I use a funnel and a nifty little strainer to do this. Then I slosh the butter in the strainer under cold water under until it runs clear. I work the butter in the metal bowl in a wee bit of cold water, changing it often until all the buttermilk is worked out of my butter, then I work out the water with a little kneading and shape it. It’s important to get all the buttermilk out of the butter, or it will go ‘off’ quickly.

I use a couple of different butter presses. I have an old antique wooden press that makes close to 1 pound bricks and a small one that makes pats. You can work the salt in at this point, if you want salted butter. I only salt the butter we will use on the table, so salted butter is always shaped in a little ball to fit my Butter Bell, or in the pats. The rest is in bricks or balls that are measured to 4 oz for cooking. I do this so I can distinguish my unsalted butter from the rest, as it is for cooking and making ghee.

The buttermilk is now used to culture other stuff, make bread or biscuits, pancakes or waffles, or marinate chicken to tenderize it. What I don’t use goes to the chickens who love it.

Another product you can make with a minimum of fuss or tools, is sour cream. My cream is raw and very, very thick. (thank you EmmaLouMoo!)

Because its so thick I thin it a bit so I use about 3 cups heavy cream to a cup of whole milk. Warm it to about 80 degrees or so and stir in about 1/3 cup of live culture buttermilk. Put it in a sterilized container, like a widemouth canning jar or something, cover with a paper towel and set it somewhere warm for a day or so. Like yogurt, the longer it incubates the more tart it becomes.Not too high tech! It won’t be AS thick as commercial sour cream because they add stuff to theirs for thickening.

Because I get 1/2 gallon a day of heavy cream from EmmaLouMoo, (I am talking ‘scrape off of the spoon thick” heavy cream) I make a LOT of butter. It won’t keep forever, not even in the freezer, so every few weeks I make ghee. Ghee is awesome stuff. It’s basically, ‘oil of butter’. It’s about 1 step further than the clarified butter you use to dip lobster or crab in.

All of the milk solids are cooked out until just the purest stuff is left then it is strained and poured into sterile jars. It keeps somewhere close to forever in the pantry. Ghee has an extremely high smoking point (something like 400 degrees) so I use it instead of butter for stir frying, frying eggs, making cheese sandwiches, etc. It doesn’t burn like butter. Its perfect for sauteing and ...its HEALTHY!

It’s a very popular ingredient in eastern cuisine and I understand there is Ayurvedic ghee that is over 100 years old.

All there is to making ghee is to dump about 5 pounds of UNSALTED butter in a big pot and melt it down. Let it keep simmering until it separates. Skim off the foam that comes to the top and toss it out. It will eventually become very clear and golden with all the solid bits on the bottom. At this point I carefully pour it into another container, making sure none of the stuff on the bottom goes with it. Then I wash out the pot, dry it really well, pour the liquid back in and let it go for a little longer, to make sure ALL the water and solid stuff has been cooked out of it. Then I let it cool a bit, strain it into sterilized pint or half pint jars, cap them and put them in the pantry until I need them.

One of the simplest “cooked” things to make with milk, is yogurt. All that is required is some milk, a little powdered milk and some starter culture. The easiest way to acquire starter is to buy some plain, live culture yogurt at the store, and use some of it to kick start your batch. Then you can hold back some of your own yogurt each time to culture the next batch. This is good for several generations before you have to go back to an original starter again. With a pot, a thermometer, and someplace to incubate your yogurt you are good to go. I already blogged this some time ago, so we won’t harp on it.

Cream Cheese

1/2 gallon heavy cream (not ultra pasteurized!)

1/2 gallon whole milk (not ultra pasteurized!)

2 TBL live culture buttermilk

2 drops liquid rennet in 1/4 c water

Warm milk and cream to 86 degrees in clean stainless steel container.

Stir in buttermilk using up and down motion

Make rennet solution last so it doesn’t weaken and stir in using up and down motion.

Cover with clean cloth and sit aside for 12 hours.

Look for clean break, CAREFULLY ladle out curd and drain in cloth bag for up to 12 hours.

Salt if desired.

Cover and keep refrigerated for up to a week or freeze

Sour Cream

3 cups heavy cream

1 cup whole milk

1/3 cup live culture buttermilk

Warm cream and milk to about 80 degrees, stir in buttermilk.

Pour into sterile container and cover with paper towel and rubber band for 24 hours or so in a warm place. (think water heater closet)

It WILL thicken more once chilled but will not be as thick as commercial which has thickeners added to it along with other stabilizers.

Cultured Butter

1/2 gallon heavy cream

2 TBL live culture buttermilk

Stir buttermilk into cream, cover with cloth or papertowel and allow to sit for 24 hours or more to thicken.

Churn until cream breaks into rice sized pieces of butter and sloshy liquid.

Strain buttermilk into sterile jar.

Wash and knead butter in cold water until water runs clear. Knead out additional water, salt if desired and shape. Refrigerate or freeze.

Ghee

3-5 lb of unsalted butter

Melt in large heavy bottomed pot.

Simmer until milk solids have fallen to bottom of pot and water has boiled off, removing foam now and then, careful not to stir everything up.

Butter will clarify and become a clear golden color.

This takes about 20 minutes.

When most of foam has stopped, strain into another container, careful NOT to pour milk solids into container.

Clean pot throughly, return ghee to pot and simmer a bit longer to make sure all milk solids and water have been simmered out of it.

Let cool a bit then strain again into sterilized canning jars.

Put on lids.

Refrigeration is not necessary.

When you have made these items, then you can make this.
An incredibly rich and moist chocolate cake made with homemade butter, homemade sour cream and topped with icing made with homemade cream cheese. Ahh life is good.

Round About

2012-01-24T14:55:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning to find the world clothed in white. What was an ugly tumbleweed last night morphed into a delicate filigree of shimmering ice.

The pups laid out in the snow, instead of on the porch like usual. They are extra vigilant today. Our friend said he heard coyotes all around last nite and he stepped out and saw the Maremma’s running from one place to another in an all fired hurry. The weather and the full moon must have brought out more predators than usual.

All the animals are kind of zoned out. EmmaLou didn’t want to come in for breakfast or milking this morning. She just stood in the middle of her big pasture and stared out at the range. She didn’t even clobber Cletus when he gave her his daily morning smooch on the nose. THAT concerned me, but I finally managed to convince her to come with me for milking. Afterwards she returned to her spot and spaced out again.

Cletus woke us up at 5 a.m. barking at something. Bruno was out on patrol. It’s amazing the way they have worked that out, that Cletus usually stays with the livestock while Bruno does perimeter checks every night. Although I have seen them out together, its not until after he’s gotten all the animals up by the house first. Since Bruno didn’t show up while Cletus was barking, I mused about what he might be saying...seeing as how he wasn’t going after anything, just moving up and down the fences, either warning off the intruder, or maybe calling Bruno for help. Randyman said he was faking something out and telling it “WE’VE GOT YOU SURROUNDED. LEAVE NOW OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES.”

He said Cletus was moving up and down the fenceline to make it sound like there was more than one of him. I told Randyman to go back to sleep.

There have been more deer around the house. The pups don’t even bother to get up when they go by. It’s just amazing. They can be sound asleep but if a strange dog or hunter go by the front of the house, they are ON it! And I can’t sneak away by myself, even on foot. Ever since our friend has come with his dogs, the pups are out front early every morning. He says they are gentle and greet his dogs, but I also know they are there to keep an eye on them. By the time I get up, my dogs have come back to the back yard again.

The sheep all seem content. Rosemary found a nice spot to sit out breakfast. She’s going to be a real heartbreaker, with that pouty lower lip.

As for me, I surprised myself today. I found a treadle sewing machine on Craigslist and I bought it.

I have wanted one for ...well, forever, I think. I’m not sure why, its just one of those things. I don’t know when we can go pick it up, as the fuel for the trip cost as much as the machine, so either someone will have to pick it up on their trip to town, or we will have to wait 3 months until our next shopping trip. Either way, I am excited. It has all the original parts including a box of feet. It’s in working order and it looks great. I really think I will get more sewing done as I won’t have to do it on the kitchen table in order to plug it in. I won’t have to trip over the cord anymore either and I think I will enjoy it more because more of me will be moving. I hate sitting still.

Today is Dulce de Leche day. Our friend is going to help me make some from scratch. He promises it will be worth the effort. I know he’s right, because everything he has made us is amazing. He has made eating an experience, not just something you do. For 18 years, Randyman has begged me for the perfect soft oatmeal cookie like his gradeschool cafeterialady/busdriver used to make. I have apparently never been up to the task. Our friend is going to make him some tomorrow, and I am certain he will not disappoint. In return, I am sending him back to Nebraska with a lot of homemade butter and a promise to send him some more of the Bay Rum soap that he loves, as soon as I get it cured. Only 2 more days and he’ll be gone for another year and the cycle begins again, of waiting with anticipation to see friends and family on their annual visits and I will treat them with the great stuff he taught me. Such are the things that make life sweet.

Country Fare

2012-01-22T08:58:00.000-08:00

Our visiting friend, the chef, invited some of his friends from the other side of Oregon to come and hunt with him this weekend. The night before they came, he was showing me how to work with recipes using homemade butter, as it behaves differently than commercial butter when baking, as evidenced in prior posts.

We will once again have light, puffy eclairs and no more ‘buttcrack’ cookies.

Since we spent so much time on this stuff, he ‘threw together’ a shrimp scampi for us. It was perfect.

The pups have been amazing. The hunters were told in advance about the Maremmas, so they didn't panic when the 'polar bears' appeared to check out them and their hunting dogs. The pups were vigilant, but totally unaggressive. However, when anyone's dog approached our gate which leads to the back pastures and the livestock, the Maremmas left no doubt that there would be a heavy penalty for trespassing there.

Since the guys also are staying in cabins, everyone will eat dinner at our house.

After a long day of chukar hunting in the rain and snow out on the desert, they headed down to the hot springs. Before that, they stopped by the house and dropped off lasagnas, cheese bread, a huge bag of lettuce and fresh caught salmon from the Oregon coast. These were REALLY nice guys.

I had already made a huge meringue for a Pavlova and a couple loaves of artisan bread so I threw the lasagnas in the oven to heat and pulled out some homemade butter to thaw.

They got back in perfect time, the lasagna tasted fantastic ( I forgot how much I really do like Costco’s lasagna) and the guys sang the praises of homemade bread and butter. They were super friendly, really nice and full of questions. It was a great evening with good company and lots of laughter. Our friend had shown me how to make French pastry cream the night before, as we were going to fill eclairs with it, but decided it would be really good on the bottom of my Pavlova. Pavlova is a giant meringue, baked until crispy which is cooled, then filled with whipped cream and fruit such as raspberries, strawberries and kiwis. I had found some blackberries and raspberries at the store when we took Cider to the vet, so he took the top off of the meringue, slathered the bottom with the French Pastry Cream which was SUPER rich, having been made with fresh eggs and EmmaLouMoo’s heavy cream, then covered it all with berries. He took more fresh cream and made whipped cream which covered it all and we served it up.

I never had a chance for a picture. The guys inhaled it, making all kinds of moaning noises and one man kept repeating over and over “This is the best thing I have ever had, this is just the best thing I ever had”. Another was saying “Wow! What would this cost in a restaurant? This is amazing! What IS it??”

I had to agree. It was pretty good stuff.

One of the guys did dishes, another invited us to go to the Oregon coast and visit them. For someone who spends so little time around people, it was almost overwhelming. These were really great guys and I can only imagine how swell their families must be.

The conversation turned to rendering bear fat and I mentioned I would love to have some to make some soap with. They were all fascinated by the fact I make soap so they all took some to try out. I had to laugh as they were passing samples around so they could all get a sniff of the different ones I have cured already. One feller already wants to buy some for his wife.

Tonight we’ll have the fresh caught salmon.

I pondered how when we lived down in the rat race in California, I never had an Executive Chef come to cook for me, never had people stop in with fresh caught salmon and most certainly didn't have the time, or the means to make homemade butter, cream cheese, or fresh whipped cream.

I was never invited for a hot air balloon ride or a ride in a little red helicopter down there, which is just a couple of the many neat experiences we have had here.

Living out in the middle of nowhere definitely has its perks.

I Think I Can

2012-01-17T15:04:00.000-08:00

In these days of a failing economy and few jobs, American families have been told they must ‘tighten their belts’...ponder where THAT saying came about...I’d say it has everything to do with going hungry. It’s a little offensive to think someone could flippantly tell someone to be ok with their family going hungry.

That said, there ARE a number of ways to eat hearty and healthy and eat more economically. They require an initial investment, but will save time as well. A couple of hundred dollars spent up front will save you money, work, freezer space and improve your health most likely, as you will be eating healthier. Less processed foods=better nutrition.

My own particular situation is not nearly as difficult as many of yours, because I live on a large ranch and raise a great deal of our own food. But freezer space is still at a premium and so is time, as animals don’t take care of themselves and neither do vegetable or herb gardens. They require a great deal of time every day.

So here are some things that even someone who lives in the city can do. You can store food in a pantry, a closet, an extra room, or even a garage where you could put shelves no matter where you live.

A large pressure canner along with the jar lifter, magnet, funnel, rack and a pair of rubber gloves as well as some canning jars (often found very cheaply at yard sales) is one of the best investments you can make. Even if you freeze foods, it costs money to run that freezer and they are taking up space that could be better used freezing something else. Besides, there is such an event as a power outage, or freezer failure. Once food has been canned, it costs $0 to maintain. Just stick it on a shelf until you need it. I highly recommend the Ball Blue book, or even better, the Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving. The latter one has 400 different recipes as well as all the basic information you will need for pressure and water bath canning.

So here is the thing. Every time you roast a chicken, roast 2. Save the bones and carcass to make and can your own chicken stock for making other stuff. Every now and then I pull all the chicken carcasses and left over veggies and make a gallon or so of stock with it.

Debone the second chicken and make soup with it. One chicken will make about 6 quarts of canned healthy, delicious homemade soup for a quick meal whenever you need it. Soup is a really good way to stretch the grocery budget.

If you have enough soup canned, then pull off the meat and process just the meat for enchiladas, or tacos or another dish. It will save you the time of roasting or cooking the chicken and is a LOT cheaper than buying frozen chicken breasts. I prefer not to have to thaw everything before I use it. IN addition to that, I don’t tend to lose things in the pantry the way I can lose them in the freezer.

Anyway, like I said, save all your roasted vegetables. The leftover bits of onion and carrots can go in the stock pot with the carcasses when you are ready, instead of throwing them in the garbage (ours usually go to the chickens, so they still aren’t wasted...) put them in a freezer bag marked for stock. Same with beef bones and such.

This will cut your cooking time down considerably and free you up to do other things.

With stews, double or triple the recipe and can what is left the next day. Again, here is a homemade meal you now only have to prepare once but it will feed you well, several times.

Same with chili.

I figure if I spend a day making soup and canning it the following day, (mind you, we also have it for dinner that particular night so the making of it shouldn’t really count...) I could easily put 36 quarts of soup on my shelves in a little more than a weeks time. That would allow me to have soup all winter and still have enough for company. Of course, I won’t, but its nice to know I could. But in 3 days this week,I have a dozen jars canned and another 6 or more quarts ready to can. That’s on top of milking EmmaLouMoo, feeding critters, and all the other stuff we do everyday. Its really not that time consuming...once I have the jars in the canner, I have 100 minutes before I have to come back and turn it off. I can find lots of entertaining things to do for 100 minutes.

I can take a walk down in the old milk pasture...

I can take a nap with Cletus and EmmaLouMoo...

or I can wait patiently for Lamby to come tell me she loves me...

or I can watch Stickman, the crazy rooster and his psycho hens walking on the rock wall...

Then come screaming back to the house to make sure I haven't been gone too long.

Some of the soups I am currently canning are: Chicken Tortilla Soup, Lamb&Barley Soup, Cheesy Chicken Chowder (which I add the roux and cheese to after reheating) Potato Soup (same thing with the roux) and Clam Chowder (again, the roux can go in quickly when its reheated). That gives us 5 different soups for lunch or dinner.Add to that Venison, Lamb and Beef stews and Chili. All I will have to do is pull out a wad of Boule dough and either make bread bowls out of it, or just bake it as is, for a hot fresh loaf to go with dinner, or maybe just some cornbread to go with my chili, although I love making Frito Boats...that delectable dish with corn chips smothered with chili and sour cream, green onions and melted cheese that you get at the Little League games. Real gourmet stuff.

Without much effort I can have 60 or so meals on the shelves ready to go.

It gives a whole new meaning to fast food!

Those are the main things.

If you have a lot of fruit make jam or marmalade with it.

Almost anyone can grow tomatoes. If you live in an apt, and have a balcony you can grow them in a container. (This, from someone who had not a single ripe tomato in the garden last year due to a lousy spring)

Canning your own tomato products will save a lot. It’s plenty easy to make your own spaghetti sauce to can, put up diced, stewed or other tomato products that cost way too much to buy. I can bruschetta, ketchup and other products we use all the time and pay good money for, that cost only pennies to make at home, not to mention they taste better and are healthier. I make up my own pizza sauce and I might just be canning instead of freezing that soon.

Homemade BBQ Sauce, like many sauces is easy to make and can yourself. I do believe the canner will easily pay for itself the first couple of months you put it into action, even without a vegetable garden. You can always buy stuff at a farmers market if you need to. Home canned is ever so much better than commercial and there is no comparison to the flavor and quality control of ingredients. I say go for it. It took me a few years to figure out how much easier my life could be, if I just spent a couple of weeks putting food by. If I can do it, you can too. You can. You really can can.

Rosemary

2012-01-12T10:35:00.000-08:00

We no longer have a 6-pack of sheep.

One of my little DorperX ewes lambed early this morning. I had just separated her finally, last nite, so either she was holding out, or I did it just in the nick of time.

We were in eating breakfast,which our friend the chef, fixed for us. We are going into Burns today to take Mr Cider to see the vet, as he hasn't been feeling up to snuff. It was below 20 degrees so this little one plopped into a chilly world. Everything must have gone swimmingly, because she was up, dry and had already suckled. The pups were sooo excited!

I made them stay out of the corral while I went in to see if it was a ram or ewe lamb and check out Mama. Cletus was so desperate to get closer, he went under EmmaLouMoo's corral gate, through 2 pastures and back around to the gate behind the sheep pen so he could get a closer look. He really loves his pets.

There was a bit of a battle between the Maremmas this morning because Cletus really wanted to see her and it's Bruno's job to take care of the newborns and their mamas. He thumped Cletus to remind him.

Cletus reassured EmmaLouMoo that he still loves her too.

Cletus wants to keep her.
I believe we shall call her Rosemary, because I just LOVE rosemary and lamb.

Hard to Swallow

2012-01-10T03:59:00.000-08:00

Its that time of year to begin planning next year’s garden. There is a lot to it, as I have moved everything and need to fence the chickens out. After two very cold, wet summers, I am going to try putting up some row covers to keep things warm so maybe I won’t have crop failures this year. I really need to have enough food to can and get us through the winter.

A trip to the grocery store typically takes 17-20 hours or so, as it’s 4 hours to get there and with the price of fuel, we have to combine doctor appointments, errands and pick up livestock feed and medicines the same day. Freezer space here is at a premium, as all our meat has to be frozen. There is no running into town for a burger! Therefore, everything is made from scratch and canning is a huge help. I had done just a little canning before we moved here, as back then the store was exactly 1 mile from my house as opposed to 230 miles.

Necessity is the mother of invention. I am SO glad we live here and I have had to change the way we do things. Our food is an experience now, the flavor is better beyond belief, its much, much healthier than what we used to buy and there is the satisfaction of having provided and my time being well spent. I’d much rather be canning, or making bread than sitting in front of a soap opera, or talking on the phone, or fighting the crowds at a mall buying stuff I don’t need. For the things I do need, well, there is the internet.

Homegrown food tastes better, because its fresh and it doesn't have a ton of weird stuff in it like fillers and preservatives. Who wouldn't enjoy homegrown tomatoes or strawberries, or fresh eggs, homemade bread, or butter??

I have to freeze some things that I don’t think can well, like our squash. Mostly I canned green beans, corn, tomatoes and chicken broth. It hadn’t occurred to me until today, when I ran across someone else’s blog, that I could be canning my stews, soups and chili, for a quick and convenient meal, instead of making everything from start to finish every day! I am pretty excited about this. I have a few recipes that I absolutely love and having it already put together and on hand is something I really do look forward to. This year I plan to can 3 kinds of stew, beef, venison and lamb. All three recipes are a bit different and should be a luxury to have on our shelves. All that I would have to do then, is make bread or dumplings to go with it. In addition, I hope to find some chicken quarters on sale and can cooked chicken to pull out for making enchiladas and other things. Chicken Tortilla soup should can well also. There are a number of things I could be doing on the days I feel good, so I can work less on the days I do not.

I shouldn’t be surprised that it hadn’t occurred to me to can meals, as I am the person who walked out and gave my chickens some stale bread then found myself in the house adding ‘Dried Seasoned Bread Crumbs” to my grocery list. It was a real revelation and extremely humbling when I realized what I had just done. Sometimes I am just a little slow on the uptake.

This morning, I took a bunch of fall apples from the trees by the pasture and started a batch of cider vinegar. It seems to be fairly straightforward and I am anxiously looking forward to see how it turns out. Buying the real apple cider vinegar in town is $8 a gallon. Making it is free.

The other thing I am currently investigating is a grain mill. Milling my own cereals and flour would be a huge savings and would be a huge improvement in health and flavor over what I am using now.

Our friend the chef cooked up one of our ‘meaties’ last nite. These are the chickens we raised last summer for the freezer...or should I say, Cletus raised them, after all, it was Cletus who kept them safe and baby sat for 2 months.

I can truly say, it was the most delicious chicken I have ever tasted. He took fresh garlic, chopped onion, fresh rosemary and thyme from my garden, mixed it with a little olive oil and slipped it under the skin of my chicken. Then he wiped off the outside so it was good and dry, sprinkled liberally with garlic, kosher salt and pepper, then he drizzled melted homemade butter all over it. It was then placed breast side down on a rack and put in a 350 degree oven on convection. Onion, chopped celery and baby carrots were strewn in the pan underneath the rack.

While the chicken was roasting, he poured some of this morning’s heavy cream in a pan, adding just a bit of milk to thin it, because our cream is so thick and heavy it doesn’t pour. I trotted out to the garden for a couple more sprigs of rosemary which he dropped in the pan with the cream. It was set to simmer and infuse the rosemary into the cream. This was later used to mash potatoes, and I can tell you, it was awesome!

The chicken was turned over half way through baking so the skin would be nice and crispy all the way around. After he was done, the chicken and rack came out and flour was mixed in with the vegetables and juices in the bottom of the pan to make a sort of roux. Liquid was added and it was set back on the stove to simmer and thicken. The veggies were then strained out and we fell on this meal like a duck on a bug and ate ourselves into happy oblivion. We shoveled it in and like to choked ourselves, it was that wonderful.

I tend to think and write about food quite often. Nearly everything we have here is geared to food...our chickens, eggs, lamb, beef, milk...but I want you to understand, I come by it honestly. I come from a family who really loves to eat. We will eat just about anything.

Case in point...

My dad has a couple of medications he is supposed to take every day. (Who doesn’t?)

My stepmom ALSO has a couple she has to take. She, however, has found it to be very convenient to put her new, small hearing aids in an empty pill bottle.

By her sweet nature, she is always taking care of my dad and generally brings him his pills.

By his own nature, my dad is fiercely independent. A few weeks ago, he decided to get himself his OWN pills.

Shortly after, my stepmom came to him with a glass of water and more pills.

He said he’d already TAKEN his pills.

She said, no he had not, she had them in her hand.

After much back and forth and investigation, it was discovered that dad had swallowed

HER HEARING AIDS!

My gawd I love that man!

A Day on the Town

2012-01-04T11:43:00.000-08:00

Our good friend, the chef, is coming from Nebraska, for his annual ranch visit/hunting trip. He is a lot like a brother and we enjoy him immensely. He often brings friends and since they stay in the cabins, he brings them to our house to feed them and he does most of the cooking. THAT works VERY well for me!

We do, however, have a bit of a competition going. I am determined that he is not able to ask for an ingredient or necessary kitchen gadget that I do not have. He wanted scallions, I had them. He wanted tarragon, I had some. He needed a ricer, I had one...and so on. I am very type A, and spend all year trying to determine what he might request so I can not only have it on hand, but have my own uses for it so nothing goes to waste. One year he asked for saffron, which I did not have. He said "I know, its about $90 an ounce, I don't need it, but I knew you wouldn't have it."

I told him that was cheating, so once again, I won by default.

but THIS year...

rising doctor bills and a trip down South took a toll on our finances and threw off our quarterly shopping. I was nearly OUT of EVERYTHING in my pantry. I pride myself on being extremely well stocked here, able to fix just about any meal we desire with what is on hand. I am considered the ranch grocery store. If you need to borrow it, I probably have it.

As it costs a couple of hundred dollars in fuel per trip, we are not able to go grocery shopping just for the sake of grocery shopping. Dr. appointments, feed-store, home-store and all errands have to coincide. We take our big stock trailer and fill it up.

Our friend said he would arrive on the 4th of January, so I figured my winning record was over. Then we got a phone call, asking us to confirm my January 3rd doctor appointment! I love the way God orchestrates the little things in our lives. He is the author of humor, so its no big surprise when He does something like this. I knew it was going to be tough getting everything put away the next day as I would be tired. As luck would have it, he called and left a day late, won't be here until the 5th. How perfect is that?

I’ve been sick with a cold for over a week. Having a compromised immune system tends to make one susceptible to everything and taking immunosuppressant drugs makes it hard to heal, as your body’s normal response to fight virus or bacteria is very weak. So far, nothing has been very helpful. I have used Nyquil, Dayquil, Sudafed, hot tea with honey, hot tea with honey and vinegar, raw vinegar, honey and onion concoction, which did help SOME, but then I tried the method I had the least amount of faith in, which was rubbing Vicks on the bottoms of my feet and donning socks. THAT worked! I didn’t cough the rest of the night and what little coughing I do this morning is much more productive. Go figure.

Leaving the ranch for a day is always a huge production. We have to get up and leave around 5 a.m. and don't get back home usually until after midnight. I have EmmaLouMoo who needs milking, the goats, the sheep and the calves to fed and watered, the chickens to look after and of course, there are the dogs. Cider and Scottie-the-delinquent usually go with us, but the Maremmas remain behind to guard the livestock and I always worry they will run in front of a ranch truck, or get into mischief while I am away. They rarely do, but I still worry. At any rate, there is a lot to do, and its very difficult to find someone who can and will cover for me when we have to go to town, which makes me even more grateful we tend to only go every 3 months or so.

That said, my new friend, "D" (1/2 of the new couple who are staying on the ranch), offered to do so. It’s really quite an undertaking and a very generous offer, so she came over several mornings to help me milk EmmaLou to learn the routine and how to keep from being cow-crunched, as cows have no earthly idea how wide they are and will ooze through any size opening, even if its only inches wide. If you should have the misfortune to be passing through the opening yourself, you will be smashed like a bug on a windshield and pinned to whatever wall happens to be there. They are not conscious, or maybe they are, of their feet either. They are surprisingly heavy when they crush your metatarsals and your feet will turn a kaleidoscope of colors over the following weeks. Don’t ask how I know.

She did a fabulous job and learned quickly where to be, when, and how to do stuff, from putting the belly milker together, to getting a recalcitrant EmmaLou in and out of her stanchion, to processing the milk and cleaning everything up. Emma tested her to see if she really knew how to do this, the pups looked on to make sure she was pouring the milk properly into the jars and waiting for their portion as anything over 3 gallons goes to them.

In addition to this she fed everyone last night. It was so great to go to town knowing I didn’t have to worry because someone who was interested was taking care of my animal family at home. We got up, Randyman fed the critters and we left at 6 a.m. And returned home around 11 p.m. Only 17 hours, round trip. Not too bad for grocery shopping, doctors appointment, hitting the feed store and a couple of errands thrown in and eating out to boot!

The pups were at the gate wiggling wildly, at seeing us pull up. When I got in the house Cletus was looking through my bedroom window HOWLING at me. I let them in and they were ecstatic to see us. Cletus was especially attentive and anxious, which made me think back to a doberman I used to have. She used to have a similar reaction to my return when she felt something had gone wrong...like the time someone came to borrow my car and she was unable to prevent them. It was about then that Randy found the note on the table.

My friend said all went well and her husband, “B” did the heavy lifting...but apparently Cletus took exception to his presence as he smelled like a coyote, being a trapper. I suspected Cletus was trying to tell me something.

Cletus has been introduced to “B” several times, by me and has been very accepting of him outside of the yard and pastures. This however, was apparently not acceptable to him, as he was bringing "Eau de Coyote" in too close to Cletus’ charges. He knows “D” though, the lady half of the equation and she said he never went beyond being verbal, but let his feelings be known. I am glad he didn’t cause any real problem, as these are REALLY nice people and I like them a lot, but on the other hand, I am a little bit proud that Cletus is thinking and trying to do a good job. Bruno, I think, just knows. He is a wise and pretty well adjusted dog. He takes after Randyman and Cletus tends a bit more towards anxiety and hysteria like myself.

I was truly exhausted this morning, but Randyman invited the polar bears to come in and visit. It’s pretty much routine for them to visit me while I have coffee, before milking and letting the animals out, then they come in a again for a bit, after the animals are fed at night and put away. The rest of the day and night they are ‘on duty’.

The minute I sat down this morning, big ol’ Cletapotamus came and gave me a 30 minute hug. He typically hugs me everyday, by putting his front feet on something near to me so he is slightly taller than I am, then dropping his head to my chest and laying all his weight against me. Try as I might, I can’t resist burying my arms in his thick fur and holding him thus. Normally he only does this for a few moments, then gives me a ‘nose touch’. But this morning was a marathon. I think he was really traumatized by my absence. That's probably not a good thing in a Livestock Guardian. Next summer he will probably have to spend more time separated from me and living with his chickens and sheep.

It’s so good to be loved by something so noble as a dog.

There is still a 6-pack of sheep out back, but the little ewe I have been watching has been rubbing against everything this morning and talking a little bit. I suspect she may lamb this week, but I turned her out in the back pasture where it is a lot cleaner than the pen they sleep in and I came back to the house. Experience has taught me, a watched pot never boils and a watched ewe, never lambs. Again, we shall see.

Winter or Fall??

2011-12-28T13:07:00.000-08:00

The pups have been doing a capital job of taking care of things. The other night Bruno was out somewhere in one of the pastures barking at SOMETHING that clearly didn’t belong, while Cletus ran back and forth from Bruno to the house. I was exhausted, it was cold and I didn’t really want to run outside with my flashlight to see what was going on, but I had the feeling that Cletus was wanting our attention. I just couldn’t bring myself to do my part and fell back asleep, knowing the goats, sheep and chickens were all safely locked up and easily protected.

I awoke in a great deal of discomfort, as the barometer has changed again and that always tends to throw me off. Because of that, I got up extra early. Cletus was asleep on the back porch, but I couldn’t find Bruno anywhere. I let Cletus in to visit and get some morning hugs and prayed for Bruno’s safe return. Awhile later Randy located him out front, so let him in to visit as well.

Milking went well with Miss EmmaLouMoo, but the sheep and calves bellowed in chorus wanting treats while I attended her. Afterwards, I slogged my way past greedy cow, greedier sheep and very pushy calves to give them their goodies.

Afterwards I let the sheep out to graze on the big pasture. I decided to walk all the way to the bottom and check the spring box and show them where the water was, as they don't tend to venture that far away. They followed me in a little line, with Tooney in the front. The 3 little blackheaded Dorper X ewes would straggle way behind, then run to catch up. Of course that would set every one off, and Tooney would also start to run along with the little ram and lamb who had been with her. Not knowing WHAT they were running from, they would then begin to run in circles around me, until the pups came to calm them all down. The puppies discovered bubbles under the ice and tried their very best to capture them, without success. We finally made it to the water, they drank, then they all ran off and left me to walk back home alone.

I slogged my way up the hill, mentally making a list of the things that needed doing. It wasn't very far into the list that I found myself overwhelmed and decided to just do what was in front of me, until I found myself somewhere near the end of the list...which is quite a long way to travel.

I raked some more good, garden-enhancing poo out of the pens, wheeled it out to the garden to dump in a pile for the chicks to go through, then threw my muscle into dragging the wagon full of milk bucket to the house.

I stopped and checked to make sure Miss Priss, the goat, didn’t come back into heat, as its anyone’s guess if this little Boer buck, Mr PeeBody, has been able to get the job done or not. So far, signs point to his success.

I let the chickens out and went in to process the milk.

I stepped out front to put some laundry in and our new friend and neighbor called out hello and brought over some peanut butter we had asked them to pick up on their trip to town. She is going to teach me to quilt and I am going to show her how to make Mozzarella and Ricotta cheese today.

We went through the initial cheesemaking steps then she showed me a few tricks on doing an applique quilt. We headed over to her ‘house’ to look at some fabrics while we had a lull in the cheesemaking process.

As we were walking along, I suddenly found myself looking at the tops of some very tall, old trees. I noticed a wasp hive about the same time I noticed a great deal of pain in my hip and wrist. Apparently someone very large, fast and invisible, had lifted me overhead and body slammed me to the ground with such speed that neither of us ever saw the attacker. It’s all I can figure as I really have no idea how else I could have wound up on the ground. I groaned a bit, my companion noted that there was likely a measurement on the richter scale from the impact I made and the pups decided to do their rendition of “TIMMY’S IN THE WELL!”.

They managed to get out of our back yard, through a corral and 2 pastures, in the blink of an eye and rush to my side to check on my welfare. I am guessing they DID see the invisible hulk which had wreaked such destruction on my rapidly stiffening self. Not just one, but BOTH Maremmas came to my rescue. I am not sure what they thought they would do, as they don’t have cell phones, opposable thumbs, or the number of the Medi-vac, but they were there at my side nonetheless to make sure I was okay.

Cider, in the meanwhile, my 'service dog', who had been playing with the pups when i fell, stayed in the backyard peering through the fence with an "Is she dead?" look on his face. He never did drop the toy out of his mouth.

There is nothing like being the biggest klutz in the county to just embarrass myself beyond belief.

I had visions of “Granny fell and broke her hip” going out over all the newswires.

I escaped from the puppies’ concerned ministrations and limped into my friend's house. Bruno was unconvinced and tried to come in with us, then reconciled himself to watching with his head in the door. We looked at fabrics she had and I marveled over a very complex quilt she is making of canadian geese standing in the water...unbelievably beautiful, amazing talent. I am very excited about what I might be able to learn. I opted to let her choose the fabrics as my color matching ability is about as great as my love for city life.

Upon returning to my house, we finished up the Mozzarella and quickly made Ricotta with the leftover whey. I grabbed the bucket of Boule dough out of the back room, 3 pizza stones and we made 3 big pizzas for dinner.

News travels fast.

I went out to feed and milk this morning and all the animals visually examined me to make sure i was really going to make it.

Its good to be cared about.

So.....

2011-12-22T16:36:00.000-08:00

The Maremma pups came back after a long night on patrol. Randy got up and showered, leaving me snug in the comfort of my warm down blankets for a bit longer. He went out and threw hay to EmmaLou and the goats and sheep. I made it as far as the couch and the coffeepot. As he came back inside to say goodbye, the pups followed him in. Tongue lolling out the side of his mouth in a large doggy grin, Cletus found me on the couch and buried his head in my lap. Cider watched, agitated that his place had been usurped, while Bruno waited his turn. Rubbing each furry body in turn, I indulged myself in my cup of coffee and slowly came awake enough to go milk.

I put the milking machine together, grabbed my bucket of warm water and headed for the door. When the dogs saw me step into my shoes, they knew I was really and truly going to go outside. They filed past me onto the porch and I put my buckets in the big wagon. I pulled it to the chicken pen, stopping to give them some more lay crumbles for their breakfast before letting them out to forage. The sheep had already been fed and were waiting at the big gate, so the pups and I went through the little gate, checking them all out to be sure no one was ready to lamb yet. Bruno and Cletus in turn went nose to nose with each one, counting, or saying good morning, or whatever it is that they do. I opened the big gate to their day pastures and Cletus led them out. Each morning, Cletus precedes the sheep out of sight and does another sweep to make sure no predators are close-by. The pasture the sheep like to graze in is probably about 20 acres or so with the large creek running through one side of it. If the water is low enough, they can just leave and go another mile or two out on the ranch. Its very open to predators and the willows along the creek bed give them good hiding spots from which to attack. Satisfied with the security check, Cletus comes back to meet me in the milk room. Bruno is already there, checking the calves behind the milk barn and sweeping the big horse corral and old barn with his eyes to make sure nothing is lurking there.

Emma takes her time eating, so after I am done with the milking, I decide to let the goats out back, as they go in a different pasture. As they hurry through the gate, Cletus runs to catch up with them as he hasn’t yet checked THAT pasture. He is faithful to do his best and when he returns, he plants himself where he can see the chickens and watch in the direction of the sheep, just in case he is needed. Bruno sleeps soundly as he is the night guardian who does the most traveling. He will rest unless Cletus sounds the alarm, then he will rise up in an instant, ready to do whatever it takes. For the most part, the days are quiet. The dogs have done such a good job we rarely have anything cross into their perimeter.

The goats came back up again. Scarlett, who is a very large Nubian doe weighing almost 200 lb. is in heat. We borrowed a little Boer goat buck to breed to them. For reasons that you need not dwell on if you have EVER been around an intact male goat, his name is PeeBody. PeeBody is tiny. Really, he is just a pip of a goat, but that doesn’t bother him any...at least it DIDN’T until today. I notice them wooing and romancing one another and PeeBody decides the time is ripe to do his manly duty. It is then we all realize with horror that his legs are too short. He huffs and puffs while Scarlett grumbles. She continually climbs on anything in the pen, a stump, a large chunk of felled wooden fence, whatever she can find. In her little goaty brain she has the right idea, but the wrong half of the combination. I try gallantly to pull her down and allow PeeBody to take the higher ground, but Scarlett won’t hold still for him. In exasperation I open the gate to the 10 acre pasture behind the house to let them and EmmaLou out, hoping Scarlett will wind up in a ditch or low spot, or graze alongside one of the downed trees so PeeBody can have his opportunity.

Emma and the pups accompany me as I walk down through the pasture, hoping to show the goats where the water is at the bottom. There are spring boxes down there they don’t know about, as for some reason, the goats and sheep never venture that far, even when hungry. About a quarter of the way down, EmmaLou suddenly turns around, shakes her head menacingly, jumps up and down and begins bucking and running, chasing the goats all the way back to their pen. I continue on and she catches up. The pups have gone ahead to do a perimeter check. Em passes me and I hear the machine gunfire of little hooves behind me as the goats catch up again. This time she allows them to come half way before she menacingly attacks them again and chases them off. I give up and walk back up to the corral. Its clear that Emma doesn’t think she should share. The pups meet me up there and they go back to chicken sitting while I go in the house to attempt, once again, to make cookies with homemade butter that will NOT melt and spread.

It takes a different kind of flour. I have been using the economy all purpose flour. Bosswife was helping me ponder the situation and she recalled that her mother used to use only homemade butter as, her dad being a farmer, they grew up with a milk cow. The only difference we could think of, was that she also ground her own flour. Bosswife had a higher quality flour she loaned me and boy howdy, it worked!!!

I have to soften the butter a couple of different times as it is cold in our house and it sets up quickly, not wanting to mix well. I cut out my cookies and set them in the oven for 75 minutes which is what the shortbread takes to cook. SUCCESS!!! Now I just need to sell a LOT of soap and a LOT Of lambs so I can afford my own grain mill.

The cookies retain their original shape, are silky soft and melt in my mouth. The flavor is remarkably improved. I am gratified as BUYING butter to make cookies with really irked me. I have an entire freezer shelf full of homemade butter and there is NO way I could possibly use it all up on bread and pancakes!

The chickens have already put themselves to bed. Its very cold out as I go to feed and bring all the critters back to their nighttime corrals. I can see my breath in the frosty air and my hands are chilled to the bone. Grateful things went quickly, I say goodnight to the 3 calves, EmmaLouMoo, the 3 goats and the 6 lambs. No point in bothering the chickens.

I wait until 8 o’clock and Randy still isn’t home from feeding. They are seeding a large part of the ranch and three of the boys are taking 4 hour shifts driving and pulling the seeder. Randy therefore, will feed the calves in a pasture somewhere out there. I haven’t been riding in so long I have no idea where anything is. I put on some water to boil for tea. The pups are sound asleep on the floor. They usually come in to visit for awhile after all the animals are fed and put up for the night before they go back to work. They can sleep through anything. I have literally rammed into them with the vacuum cleaner and not gotten so much as a twitch. The tea pot starts to softly whistle and both dogs are on their feet and in the kitchen with breath taking speed. I’ve never seen ANYTHING move that fast. They have the most amazing selective hearing. I begin to laugh as I recall another incident where they demonstrated this trait.

It was another night when Randy was late. I was terribly bored and was playing around on the internet, chicken shopping. Yes, I did say chicken shopping. I have to mail order chickens via internet from a hatchery if I want new ones. There is a website that has pictures of baby chicks who usually look nothing whatsoever like the adult version. Curious to know what one breed looked like in infancy, I innocently clicked the video link.

Little chicks began to peep winsomely and the next thing I knew, my laptop went FLYING backwards out of my hand and 2 large white monsters were standing atop me, frenziedly looking for the chicks who were now in danger from my big RED dog who was hunting them in order to play. Desperate to reach them first, lest Cider abuse them, Cletus dug his nose into the pillows of the couch, under my leg, behind my back and on over the top of me. He rolled me around with his 120 lb frame like I was a walnut. As he neared the computer which had rocketed out of my hands when they made impact, he tilted his head in astonishment. Bruno was playing front guard to Cider, who was certain the chicks were in a brazier light over my head and continued to defy Bruno and climb his way up to find them. They were all relentless in their missions until I was finally able to reach out and click off the computer and close the peeping video.

You’ve just got to appreciate a good work ethic!

Next morning I got up and the world outside was white with frost, frozen in time and sprinkled with icy diamonds. Even inside my little rock house I could feel the crispness of the air. I shuffled to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee and I saw the pups are out front. I am somewhat curious, as they are usually just coming back home at this time and ALWAYS come to the back door. I halloo them and they begin wagging their bodies in joyful anticipation. I walk around to the front door and as I throw it open expecting two big white fluffy dogs, instead I am looking at SIX white wooly bodies in front of them...SHEEP! The sheep all got out and made their way out of the pastures to my front yard and the pups are there protecting them. I quickly close the door in their faces, run back with my coffee hoping that if I cannot see them, they aren’t really there. I hear them all bumping into the door on their way across the porch. I contemplate getting dressed to move everyone back to their rightful spots. It’s too early in the morning for me to think, much less react.

By the time I had on a sweatshirt over my PJ’s and some shoes, the front yard was empty. I walked a little way and saw the pups up by the horse trailers in front of the big barn. Sure enough, a little wooly head stuck its face out the door in the saddling area of the barn.

I trotted back and opened the large gate to the sheep pasture. It’s between their night pasture and a large corral, with gates and alleys leading elsewhere. Once done, I walked through the sheep pasture to the small gate in front which we almost never use. I propped it open, stepped out front with my flake of hay and hollered

“Hey SHEEPIES!!!”

Eight heads turned in my direction. The barn is several hundred yards away, but the two pups and 6 sheep all saw me clearly. To my horror, the sheep started a mad dash towards me, the pups pumping their legs to keep up. I did a rapid about-face and made it through the gate just about the time the thundering herd arrived. Like the ghost of Pistol Pete Maravich, I threw the flake of hay towards a feed tire on the ground and sank it. The mob thundered past me and I slowly let out my breath. Another wreck avoided. The pups walked up to acknowledge me and we all congratulated one another on a job well done. Ice chunks were melting off of their heavy white coats as I hugged them and we all headed to the house so they could veg out and I could have my cup of coffee where it was warm. The sheep? They stayed and devoured their breakfast and I’m not certain, but it’s just possible that wild & wooly MamaCass might be having her lambs today. She is kind of slab sided and not nearly as large as yesterday so the lambs could be dropping into the birth canal. Time will tell.

December Morn

2011-12-15T17:43:00.000-08:00

last September

There are ice crystals blanketing everything and the water troughs are frozen, except for those that we have put heaters in. The world is quiet and the animals huddle, waiting for their breakfast. The pups have just come back from their patrol. It’s been very quiet the past several nights, unlike a few weeks ago when we heard coyotes everywhere. The Maremmas have been busy keeping everything at bay so our little band of sheep and goats can venture out safely.

There is a new couple on the ranch. He is a trapper and carpenter by trade. He has been helping reduce the unusually high coyote population. Bruno was late coming home one morning. That is because an old horse was humanely destroyed out on the ranch and that drew lots and lots of coyotes. The coyotes drew Bruno. Because the coyotes were all around, Cletus stayed with the sheep and did not know Bruno ventured out alone to run off the intruders and got caught in the trap. The guy felt just awful about it. Bruno allowed the guy to free him but wasn’t about to get in his truck. He came to get us and Randyman took me a couple miles down the road to where Bruno was limping along next to the guys wife. They are very nice people and had no idea the pups would range that far. I don’t believe they normally do, but that is where the threat was. Bruno is none the worse for wear, his foot was swollen and sore, but he went to work that night. The guy has since moved all his traps further to the south and across the road at the base of the mountains. Bruno seems to have things back under control again. I have heard no coyotes and very little barking, which means, nothing has been crossing their perimeter. I am grateful I have socialized these dogs to the point I have. Being as remote as we are, human predators are not a concern for us. Had I not introduced Bruno to this guy the night before, the chances are much higher that Bruno would have been more seriously injured. As it is, these dogs are intelligent enough to make good judgement calls.

The chickens are fluttering around in their run, waiting for me to set them free. I throw them a large chunk of cheese that wasn’t up to par. Most of my hard cheeses have not been what I had hoped, I think because of the trouble I am having controlling temps. Once making Christmas gifts are not taking up so much of my time I will go back to making cheese. At least the dogs and chickens are happy with my failures. There are 12 gallons of milk in the fridge again, and 9 that I have to skim heavy cream off of. That will give me another gallon and a half of heavy whipping cream to make butter, or ghee or whatever. Its good to know that Emma will continue to gift us with this, until we dry her off, next May. There are several cartons of fresh eggs in the extra fridge, as the little hens are giving me 4-5 a day even in this cold weather. I can’t eat store bought eggs anymore. The watery whites, weak shells and anemic looking yolks just have to stay on the plate, as I cannot choke them down anymore. There is no flavor to them. I thank my God for the opportunity to eat fresh food, as there are many who are not so fortunate.

Being here, hours from people, without pavement, cars, sirens, the need to lock everything, complaining neighbors, competition, consumerism and claustrophobia that comes from being in crowded conditions with horizon to horizon concrete buildings is a relief I cannot even begin to express. To enjoy all that nature has to offer in this place, watching a hawk lazily riding the air currents, rising higher and higher, watching the quail grow from fuzzy little marbles with legs to full grown fat, sassy birds with their little floppy topknots, to see the grass go through its changing of seasons, from brilliant green to tawny gold, watching birds like the trumpeter swans, the egrets, the Canadian honkers, and a myriad of others come and go, is an immense gift. Being able to ride out on the ranch and see the deer and antelope grazing alongside cattle, waking up to see big bucks and does cleaning up the fallen apples on the lawn next to the house, having the time to ponder the shape of the puffy clouds and watch the lightening that splits the sky over and over, these are the things that make up the rhythm of my life. Listening to the music of the milking machine or a stream of goatmilk pinging the bottom of my steel bucket, raucious bird calls, the snorting of horses or the egg song of a hen are some of the melodies that carry me through a day.

I skim the cream from 9 gallons of milk and gather half a dozen fresh eggs from the coop. I crack one in the pan and it looks nothing like a commercial egg. The yolk is bright orange and stands up tall, with a white that does not spread. It's flavorful and I appreciate having them. I cut out the biscuits made with buttermilk left over from making butter of EmmaLou's cream. They rise up flakey and soft and my mouth waters, thinking of the just made butter and homemade apricot jam that I will smother them with. After milking and cleaning up, I toss in a load of laundry and wash it with a mix made with my own soap. It's lightly scented of lavender and makes a monotonous chore more palatable. I visit with the Maremma pups and they fawn over me as if they've not seem me for ages. Christmas cookies are ready to come out of the oven. Hopefully someone makes a trip to town soon, as I am out of ingredients to make the next batch.

I think about the sweet recipients and I smile.

I have to decide on something for dinner and gaze at the venison, homegrown chicken, beef and lamb in the freezer. I settle on a roast from last years spring lamb.

I put potatoes in with it and the smell of fresh garlic and rosemary permeate the air and stimulate my appetite. A loaf of fresh, hot bread and green beans will finish off the meal and we will be well fed and sated as the sun disappears from the horizon. I feel a warmth envelope me, like all is right with my world...and it is.

It's like having a foot in paradise.

Butter Blunders

2011-12-13T14:13:00.000-08:00

This is what happened when I told EmmaLouMoo ...

"I have to go to town and BUY butter."

Its that time of year. I always make Christmas cookies to send to my son and his family. EmmalouMoo has been very generous and has been giving me 1/2 gallon of heavy cream daily, along with 3 gallons of milk. Because of this, I have LOTS of homemade butter in my freezer.

I found that you cannot make cream puffs with homemade butter. I found you cannot make chocolate eclairs with homemade butter. They do not rise. Apparently there is a lot of water in commercial butter, which is what causes the puffs to rise, so just to get by, I borrowed some commercial butter to make them until I have both the time and the patience to experiment with how much water I have to add, and just how exactly I will go about it.

I found that sugar cookies don’t do so well with homemade butter, when I wound up with a couple dozen buttcrack cookies.

Today, I discovered that you also cannot make shortbread cookies with home made butter. I mean...you CAN, but they don’t resemble the intended results at all. They are very wide, flat, shapeless and delicate. They are however, incredibly tasty. There is a definite difference in the flavor between using my homemade butter and commercial butter. Everyone on the ranch has been coming in to grab a cookie. The failures should be gone soon.

I must experiment until I find out wether to add less butter, more flour, or both. Or if something else is needed to stablize the cookies. I refuse to be defeated. After all, there was a time when all there WAS to use was good, homemade butter. There must be a secret.

Meantime, Christmas is coming and my kids are waiting for cookies.

About Livestock Guardian Dogs

2011-12-09T08:24:00.001-08:00

The year we moved to the ranch a mountain lion attacked one of the cowdogs, right in front of our house. We kept chickens in a kennel with a chain link top while we built a chicken coop. A Great Horned owl parked himself on top and terrorized the chickens every night. After we got the coop built, we caught a bobcat trying to tear the wire in the mid afternoon. We had to lock my goats in the kennel to protect them from the marauding large cats and coyotes who came into our backyard with regularity, hunting for an easy meal.

Then we got our LGD’s, or Livestock Guardian Dogs. There are specific breeds that fit within this genre. They are unlike any other class of dog.

Just as I would not employ a Chihuahua to guard me from an assailant or duck hunt with a Border Collie, I would not count on a non-LGD breed (Great Pyrenees, Maremma, Akbash, etc) to protect my livestock. Unlike other breeds which might do a passing job, running off intruders, LGD’s actually bond to the stock and become part of the herd. I lost a ewe last year and the pups protected her dead body for 6 hours in a storm. I had to physically remove them before they would allow someone to take her away.

Even with the loose structure employed here, where the dogs are allowed to travel from pasture to pasture across as much territory as they desire, they are very attached to their animals. Cletus, in particular, each morning, lowers his head and works his way around, touching the nose of every lamb/sheep/calf/goat here. I have heard stories from people who have seen these dogs here and in other countries, leading enormous flocks down from mountain meadows with no humans in attendance. They simply do their jobs. I know if my sheep move, so does Cletus. He wants everything in his field of vision.

LGDs don’t rely on human direction, but make their own decisions and the relationship is not so much one of dog/master, as partners in a common goal. Indeed, there are many times I actually feel as if they are truly the ones in charge.

A year ago we picked up our two Maremma pups, Bruno and Cletus. We decided on two because the predator pressure here is so great. While one dog might possibly be able to hold off an intruder, he could not at the same time protect the stock behind him if part of a pack drew him off and the other part circled around for the kill, as we have seen coyote packs do to the cows here, resulting in the deaths of more than a few calves.

One dog alone, is not as likely to survive a run in with a mountain lion either, so a pair was decided on.

The result of generations of breeding, with amazing instinct, they bonded with our stock and ourselves and commit their lives to protecting. They aren’t even 2 years old yet but they have kept our goats, sheep and calves safe and raised 20 free range meatie chickens without losing a single one, despite the fact that only yards away, a family of large owls have taken residence in the top of the old barn and large predatory hawks scan our yard and pastures daily.

When I hear their low, deep bark, I know they are keeping something at bay and I can rest easy. They’ve used good discretion, learning who is friend and who is foe.The deer started coming back this year after a nearly 3 year absence. I think that is because the coyotes are no longer hunting by the houses here. The pups started to run the deer off and I assured them them I liked the deer. They now allow the deer to graze along with the sheep, unmolested. Amazingly smart dogs. Their intelligence boggles my mind.

A few nights there have been long periods of barking and I have gone to see what the problem was. Interestingly, Cletus is usually left behind or sent back to push the sheep and small stock up by our house before joining Bruno in the confrontation. One particular such night, I went out with my flashlight. Cletus had already brought the stock up and he led me far out into the back pasture several acres away. I couldn’t see what was out in the tall grass, but both dogs had their backs up and their tails curled tightly. I shuddered, trying to imagine what would be brave enough to stand off over 200 lb of angry, barking dogs. They suddenly bolted through the brush after whatever it was and I quickly headed back for the ranch house, alone in the dark, feeling very vulnerable with just my flashlight for protection. Moments later, Bruno was at my side, walking with me. I could hear Cletus still running behind us, after whatever they’d had the issue with. Once I arrived at our back porch, Bruno turned around and bolted back out the way we had come, to back Cletus up. I was in awe. He had intentionally escorted me safely home, then returned to battle. The next day, one of the guys said he saw large cougar tracks at the pond near our house.

They are tolerant with the other dogs on the ranch, but allow none of them in with the sheep. There is one dog they do pick on, but in all honesty, he started the issue. The problem is, I am having a hard time getting them to stop it. He is pugnacious with other dogs and has several times scrapped with Cider, my old retriever and once, going out of his way, ran down to our house and attacked the pups when they were small. They have never forgotten.

The pups are now over 100 lb. each. They have never injured him even though they have engaged him and could just as easily have dispatched him. Thankfully, they only put the fear of God in him, because the boss’ wife told me one day she heard a terrible shrieking. Looking out the open front door, she saw that they were headed toward her house in pursuit of the errant dog, who was screaming bloody murder, who raced past her, through the open door, to hide under a desk. He had never been in the house before, being an outside dog. Point made, they headed back home.

I had taken them one at a time to the dog and forced them all to sit quietly while I petted and made over him, so they would understand he was no threat. For whatever reason, they aren’t buying it, so I put a citronella collar on them to correct them. They’ve been pretty good about leaving him alone since then.

Earlier today, I saw them simultaneously begin to charge in his direction. I hollered at them to stop. They both halted and looked my way. That’s when I saw what they were REALLY after. A large owl was heading low towards the yard. I then had to get them to resume their pursuit! They did, but of course by that time, the owl was far ahead. Luckily, the chickens were locked up. The pups have established a no fly zone over the yard where the chickens free range. They are pretty good about watching the trees for hawks and owls. They aren’t very fond of crows either, but they never bother the quail. I should have known better than not to trust them.

The electric fence on the long side of the sheep pasture is down because of a heavy windstorm and a bunch of tumbleweeds. Therefore, the sheep have been running amok. Cletus and Bruno have been spending more time out front because of it, as that is the direction the little woolies are wandering. When the goats were born last January, Bruno helped dry them off. He faithfully watched over them day and night, laying in front of the entrance to the barn, until the kids were old enough to go outside.

When I brought the bummer lambs home, he adopted them as well and allowed them to snuggle up to him.

The lamb we kept still runs to him when she sees him, or becomes frightened. Cletus, who is a bit more puppyish and playful, was beside himself, as he really loves his charges. We raised meat chickens this year and he actually grieved when we took them away. He still checks the horse trailer for them, as that is where he saw us load them up. Everything that comes into our pastures, the pups accept as their responsibility, be it a lamb, chicken, a calf, or a child.

When our grandkids came to visit, the dogs faithfully escorted them everywhere, even though they have never been around children. They were amazingly gentle and submissive to our 3 year old granddaughter.

They are incredibly loyal and intelligent animals. They are unlike any other breeds. As I mentioned, the LGD is a self directed and self motivated animal who has to think for himself. He will learn basic commands, but taking direction from humans is not their highest priority. Protection of their charges is. They don’t think, or respond like other dogs. They will fearlessly lay their lives down in protection of their charges, but use attack only as a last resort, preferring to bark and posture first. This minimizes a lot of problems, not the least being their own injury. They set perimeters which they patrol regularly, using scent to deter predators from advancing closer. When something dares to venture past the perimeter, they confront it and if necessary, dispatch it.

We interact more with our dogs than is common, because I need to be sure they are bonded enough to respond to me in the event they mistake a visitor or a cowboys’ dog as a threat, when they aren’t. It's not likely to happen, but I prefer to err on the side of caution. Most owners only want the dogs bonding to the stock. I sometimes walk down through the pastures and I feel a lot safer knowing they will watch out and protect me from predators as well, since in the past cougars have attacked with impunity by the houses. The pups are occasionally allowed to come in the house, to have cockleburrs brushed out of their coats or to be medicated, or whatever else I have to do that I don't want to do out in the cold. It is a source of constant amazement that I can turn the vacuum on and bash into them with it without them waking up, yet some unheard threat will rouse them out of a dead sleep and they leap into action.

Prior to our moving to the ranch our boss’ wife raised 200 sheep here every year. They had lost their Great Pyrenees to a heartbreaking accident and decided not to replace him. The following year she had 80% losses due to the cougar population so they sold all that was left.

Since our Maremmas have been here we have not lost a single animal to predators or even SEEN one in the vicinity, other than the arial hawks and owls which the pups run off. They have run off other dogs seeking mischief, even escorted two pups all the way to their front door kiyi-yi-ing in terror but unharmed. They have acted as bodyguard to my old retriever and even kept the ranch cats safe. There are no longer raccoons in the orchard, as the pups don’t allow anything we don’t encourage them to.

It’s common practice for owners of poultry or small livestock to employ LGDs. Unlike many dogs who may bark from boredom or angst, they only bark when they have a sound reason. I have gone outside to a chorus of barking, to find it’s the 5 Border Collies on the ranch sounding off at who-knows-what and the Maremmas are quietly laying out where they can see the sheep.

Recently, Cletus was beside himself barking and posturing by the front gate. He was clearly very upset. I kept looking and seeing nothing. I brought him in the house to quiet him down, but he continued barking and woo wooing at the window. I finally relented and let him out, to show him nothing was there. He darted across the way, then began to circle warily, behind one of the trucks. His back up and lips curled he stood glaring, at something on the ground. I eased over and found that one of the kids had shot a coyote and thrown the body down behind a pile of rocks by the truck. Once Cletus determined it was no longer a threat, he took it by the tail and began to drag it away. Afraid the boys planned to sell the pelt, I discouraged him. He came back, unhappy to leave the evil thing so close to the house and well within their territory, but seemed at least satisfied it was no longer a threat.

Most nights I will hear the pups bark for a few minutes, then all is quiet the rest of the night. Without them, I could not have stock, as there is no other way to keep them safe. The dogs were an expensive investment, but they have paid off in a big way.

Many people live in situations where their property butts up to a neighbor. In unfortunate cases, they sometimes have intolerant neighbors who want to live in the country, without what the country has to bring. Crowing roosters, lowing cattle or a working Guardian Dog become a target to be eliminated. Fortunately, in MOST rural communities, Right to Farm laws are set up to protect the people who live there and take advantage of their freedom to raise their own stock. Some officials are ignorant, not only of the laws, but of the nature of LGDs and their effectiveness. Such is the case with Joyful Farms. They are forced to hire an attorney to protect their dogs and their right to farm, at great expense. In other areas, there might not yet BE Right to Farm laws. In this case, there needs to be precedent set to protect small operations like theirs, or perhaps yours.

The above widget on my upper right hand is to make donations to assist them in paying their attorney fees. This case is important not only to them personally, but to all of us who own small livestock. If the right to own Livestock Guardian Dogs as part of small farming is not protected, neither will the right to own your stock be safe. A crowing rooster, or bleating goat, or whinnying horse can be labeled a ‘public nuisance’.

If you are able, please join me in donating to the cause of all small farmers by helping these people out. Every dollar counts. Please feel free to post it on your Facebook page, or install the widget on your own blog. This is a battle we all need to engage in together.

2011-11-29T07:30:00.001-08:00

It snowed here last week. Or maybe it was the week before. It’s hard to remember as one day runs into another here. There are no real weekends to mark the days by so I often lose track. Anyway, it snowed one day.

Cider sat outside the milk room waiting for me and he got snowed on.

Emma came out of her tent and got snowed on.

The next morning was sunny again and all the snow had melted.

The 'boys' came and waited for me to finish milking and escort me back to the house.

After milking, I took the milk can into the house and strained the milk into jars. I then put them outside in the ice chest with ice water to quickly cool them. Then I tried to find room in the refrigerator for another 3 gallons of milk.

Then we all took a nap.

After a long and productive day, EmmaLou wanted to eat some dinner.

Bruno also wanted dinner.

Randy and I had an outrageously delicious dinner. Best I ever tasted. Much better than crackers.

And I discovered that if you use homemade butter to make sugar cookies, and cut them out with a heart shaped cookie cutter....

...they look like "butt-crack" cookies. If I knew any plumbers, I would make more to hang them on his tree. As it is, I guess we will just have to eat them.

In Good Company

2011-11-23T09:31:00.001-08:00

It’s quiet this morning, here in the little rock house far from everything. Randyman has gone to work up in the shop and it’s just me and Cider. He is always happy to see me, whether I am waking up, or just stepping out of the bathroom. A separation of a few seconds brings the same joy over being reunited as a week or a month would.

Most of the time, the majority of my life, I spend without much human interaction. The ranch family are all busy doing what they have to do and staying very busy and unless I am up to riding, or go visit or volunteer to help out with some of the many chores, I am alone in this funny little stone and concrete house. I never feel alone, however. I feel God’s presence everywhere on this ranch, stronger than I ever did anywhere else and He has provided me with very good company and companionship.

I put the milker together while Cider happily wags his tail at my side. Armed with a bucket of warm water, we step out onto the back porch to be greeted by the Maremma pups. Cletus stretches his big ol’, tall, lanky frame with an audible yawn and undulates like a fish, asking for his customary good morning rub. Bruno watches from his perch on the wicker loveseat, then sort of oozes and slides onto his feet to bump my hand while the 3 of us work our way to the wagon. As I drag the milker into the wagon and grab the handle, our little entourage moseys its way to the back corral to prepare for milking EmmaLouMoo. She’s behind her tent eating the hay that Randyman will have given her before he left. The little sheep are already spread out across the pasture, nibbling on whatever looks tasty to them. The bull broke into their pasture again last night and the pups decided it wasn’t a big problem since we didn’t rush to move him last time, so they didn’t fuss about it much last night.

Emma hears me and rushes to the gate, anxious to be let into the milk room. I open it wide and she gallops down the little lane and hurries into her stanchion. I quickly dump her grain in the feeder to appease her and make my preparations while the dogs investigate the back corral and check to make sure all is well.

I plug in the milker and grab the “dipe-wipes” to wash Emma’s udder. I dip them in warm water as they are pretty cold being in the milk room overnight. As I scrub and massage her bag, she lets down and begins squirting milk before I am ready. I wipe her dry and put her little belt on that holds the bucket up, turn on the pump and hook her up. She munches contentedly, as the machine taps out a steady beat. I can feel her warmth and smell her faint cowy scent. It’s nice and I smile and rub her hip, enjoying the feel of her sleek coat. I move up and rub her head around her ears and she happily chews and sweeps up another mouthful of grain with her long pointy tongue.

Cletus comes in to sit with me. The milking is almost finished. I turn the machine off and reach for the bucket. I can barely lift it as it is full of milk. I manage to wrassle it into the wagon, tidy up the milk room and unlock Emma’s headcatch. She breathes heavily and works hard to make sure there isn’t a grain wasted or left behind. I rub her eyes and wrap my arm around her muzzle to get her to back out of the stanchion. She coyly pretends to head out the door then bends her neck around to steal some hay off the pallet by the front wall. I coax and threaten and she slowly oozes her way through the door.

Bruno and Cider show up and precede me out the gate and back to the house. They know the routine and they can forecast my every move. Emma moves slowly on the way back and I have to lean into her hip and shove her to get her out the gate. She lollygags, relaxed and sated now and I give her a hug and a headrub before pulling my wagon out the gate. She heads to the water trough and takes in a long, satisfying drink.

Cider comes back and walks with me as I pull the wagon past the chicken pen, where the hens are taking their turns in the nesting boxes. There are 6 boxes, but they only choose to share 3 of them. I will come back at noon and gather eggs and bring them treats. If everyone has donated and no hawks or owls have been haunting the grounds, I might let them out to play for the afternoon as they love to run around and look for bugs and peck at the lawn or see what Emma may have dropped out in the corral.

The pups have already taken their places on their dog beds on the porch, as they have been out patrolling all night and this is when they finally get to rest. They re-think this as I muscle the big bucket up onto the porch and into the house. They all follow me in to watch the procedure. I rinse out the warm-water bucket and fill it with hot soapy water this time. I pull the inflations off of the claw on the milker and take it all apart. I drop the pieces into the hot soapy water to soak while I wash the lid.

I grab 3 glass gallon jars and set one in the sink. Grabbing the strainer, I set it on top of the jar and with both hands and a loud huff, I hoist the bucket up and start straining the milk into the jars. It's steamy warm and clean, as no hay, dirt, or manure can easily fall into it with the machine. I feel strangely wealthy, as the creamy white liquid rises to the top of the jar. I cover the tops with plastic wrap and a rubber band, write today’s date on it and whisk them out to a cooler full of ice water on the porch where the milk can quickly chill. There is still a half gallon left in the bucket, so I split it between the dogs.

After cleaning everything up, I collapse on the couch and Cletus comes over and buries his big furry head In my lap. I hug him, taking in his doggy smell and bury my fingers in his thick coat, noting the firmness of his strong, powerful neck and I feel his heartbeat mingle with my own. Bruno and Cider come up on either side of him, vying for my attention and I am overwhelmed by the affection of a loving God, manifested through my animals. I can almost feel His arms around me, hear His heartbeat, as I reach for the intangible and take hold of the tangible.

I hear the little ram blatting outside and my eyes settle on EmmaLou, nosing around in the hay she has nudged up by the tent. My arms are around two of the dogs while the third sets his foot upon my knee. My husband is only a couple hundred yards away, doing what he loves. I wipe away a grateful tear as I take in a million undeserved blessings. Life itself is a gift. I could never earn the divine affection I have been the recipient of. I thank Him audibly, for once again reminding me that He is present always, understanding that all of this is from His hand, but best of all, is the gift of Himself.

My knees unfold painfully as I stand up, my shoulder throbs with pain of past injuries, irritated by the cold, but my heart is light and full and I meet the rest of the day with enthusiasm.

I take the 4 wheeler and ride up the road to the boss’ house. I am going to help clean the guest house, so their folks can spend Thanksgiving weekend here. As I bustle around, inside, I look out through the big window to find an errant Cletus staring back at me. He managed to get out and as usual, worried about me until I could be located. He waits outside for several hours until I am finished, then keeping pace, escorts me home where Bruno and Cider are beside themselves to see me again. Randy will be home soon.

I am truly blessed.

“Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age” Matt 28:20

Almost Winter

2011-11-17T17:10:00.001-08:00

Dark clouds, pregnant with a coming storm roll over the ranch early this morning when I go out to milk EmmaLouMoo.

I saddle Wimpy and we wait by the horse trailer while they fix two flat tires, from the sharp rocks on the 50 miles of dirt road leading to the ranch.

Every fall, all the cows get processed and counted and at the end of it all, about 1500-2000 of them are pushed out to the desert to spend the winter. The rest of the cows will stay at the ranch. The cowboys bring a calf who had gotten separated, back to its mother.

The second rainbow of the day shimmers over the ranch as we unload horses to gather cows out of the field to take out to the desert.

We ride through willows and brush in one of the large pastures, in heavy winds, gathering the 1400 cows we will begin pushing to the desert. Today, we plan to take them to a large basin just past one of the hot springs before heading back. The wind howls and I feel raindrops randomly spattering on my oilskin duster.

One of the cowboys was crossing a bog. His horse lunged, in an effort to avoid sinking, but missed the bank and fell back, rolling over on his rider in the mud. Neither were injured, but both were mud soaked . Its all in a day's work for them.

The dust obscures our vision as we continue to drive the cows across the range, through sagebrush and greasewood.

The cows finally line out in a ribbon nearly two miles long. One rider is at the head of the procession, ensuring the lead cows don't head in the wrong direction. The other 3 of us space out down the line to keep them all moving and tucked in. Some of these cows have been this way before and it makes our job easy, as they deliberately travel towards the respite they know they will find in the the little valley basin tonight.

A storm is rolling in off the Steens, hiding the 10,000 ft. peaks. You can barely see the line of cattle to the right with a rider barely visible in the back ground. Tonight it is supposed to snow as low as the ranch. So far, its been fairly nice. Clad in long johns, "wild rags" and layers of clothing, wearing gloves and jackets or dusters, we remain fairly comfortable even, at times too warm, after heading off errant cows in the brush and pushing them back into line.

The sky has been decorated with rainbows all day.

Only a few more miles to go. The boss had someone follow him and he brought the truck and horse trailer out and left it at our destination so we don't have to ride the several miles back. We are all relieved to reach it. We watch the cows spread out to graze and the 4 of us cram into the front seat of the old ranch truck and head back home to unsaddle before dark.

Its been another great day.

I'd love to be spending the next day taking them the rest of the way, but I know my physical condition won't allow it, so I will stay with Cider, making cheese and butter with the 12 gallons of milk Emma has already graced our refrigerator with. She is giving me 3 gallons a day with a ton of heavy cream, on once a day milking. She is proving to be a really great little cow. She's always waiting at the gate at milk time and goes through her routine with rarely a hitch. Cows are like that, little order freaks. It makes life easier.

Today I'll make parmesan, mozzarella and ricotta cheeses and more butter pats for the freezer. I have found it easier to use them in this form than in the log I used to make. To measure it, I put a cup of water in a 2 cup measure and just drop butter pats in until the water mark reaches the necessary mark. The pats are a perfect size for putting on the table for pancakes, waffles and toast and they store nicely. I just take a few out of the freezer every week to soften and meet our needs. It's a nice way to put butter on the table for company too. I purchased the mold for the pats through an old timey catalogue. Just soak the wooden mold in cold water prior to using and the softened butter (not too soft) pops right out onto the baking sheet, then I freeze them to put into ziplocs later.

I will rise some bread in the extra room and bake it. I can't rise bread and make cheese in the same room, as the wild yeast from the bread will inoculate the cheese and give it an off-flavor. They go great together at the END of the process though. If all goes well, I can get some soap wrapped and another batch curing by tonight. That will have me almost caught up on the things I need to get done. I'll start some Christmas sewing next week.

Cheese, butter, bread, soap, laundry and chores, then maybe I can ride again on Saturday.

What a great way to live.

A Cry for Freedom

2011-11-11T10:12:00.001-08:00

Growing up on a farm or ranch is a blessing few kids get to experience these days.

In an age of single parents, unwed mothers, absentee fathers and the very fabric of the American family under attack and being both demonized and disassembled, these kids get to live within the borders of a close-knit family, mom, dad and siblings living, working, and growing together for their common good.

They are able to absorb the values of their parents and a healthy work ethic as they watch their parents live out and practice what they believe. They don’t fall prey to the insidious ‘peer pressure’ or indoctrination of strangers like most kids.

They spent time outside in the fresh air, watching the everyday miracles most people miss or take for granted, such as the birth of a calf, or the hatching of a chick, or the amazing process of watching a seed become a thriving crop and food on the table. They learn and understand how to nurture these things and appreciate what it takes to provide for their own family as well as countless others along with the charges under their stewardship.

They learn multiple skills such as riding, operating machinery, basic veterinary skills and health, understanding nutrition, as well as how to put in a full day’s work, yet understanding that all things cannot be accomplished in a day and your best is good enough, because tomorrow the work will still be there. These are things that people in the corporate work usually lack and suffer from stress related ailments as a result.

They also learn accountability, responsibility, bookkeeping, finance, salemanship, how to relate to people of all ages and all walks of life. They learn their skills under the watchful eye of a parent, who has their best interest at heart, instead of an employer or instructor. It has been my personal observation that these kids are often much more competent than many adults and seem to develop a greater common sense as well. There is no better teacher than a parent. Our nation was built by men and women who grew up this way.

Fortunately, for those not fortunate enough to be born into such a setting, there is often room for an extra, less fortunate youngster who may be from a local town or even farther away, to come and share of the lessons and lifestyle.

I myself was lucky enough to be one of THOSE kids, who lived in the city but ached for the country life. I was blessed to get a job at a training stable, cleaning stalls, feeding and eventually assisting in the training and campaigning of horses.

My husband learned nearly everything he knows now, at his father’s feet, on their family ranch and there is very little he doesn’t know how to do and do well. In addition to that, he loves what he does and when we have a day off or vacation days, that is what he yearns to do.

Where we live now, young people often come to visit and enjoy working alongside the ranch kids who live here. It’s never for as long as they would like. They love coming and helping out here.

This year the Dept of Labor has passed mandates that would make it illegal for any youngster under 18 to enjoy these experiences. They would be allowed to ride a horse, but never help gather cows with them. They could drive their 4-wheeler off a cliff, but not be allowed to help drive a tractor to put up hay. It would cut them off from any opportunity to develop the self confidence and satisfaction that comes from doing something worthy, from having a healthy outlet for their energy, from being a part of something bigger and more important and fun. From living a dream. They would be confined to menial jobs at McDonalds or some other far less satisfying and healthy pursuit. In the name of “protection” government institutions would rob kids and families of something that has been a basic right, freedom, and a way of life in since before the beginning of our country.

I guess they believe the best place for our kids is in front of the TV, watching lewd advertisements or sitcoms, playing video games or having sex. It is a totally schizophrenic society. They want the kids to be sexually involved as preteens, activities that in my experienced opinion should be reserved for mature adults, but they want to stunt them as people, as members of society, as skilled or responsible. It makes me really angry. I want my grandkids to have the opportunity to grow up strong, both physically and morally. I want them to be able to enjoy the same things in life that we got to. The government trend is to persecute homeschooling advocates. Soon we will be bound like Germany and some other countries to send our kids out for a government run public education where they are indoctrinated, not taught. This bill mandates that kids who WILL be allowed to work on their family farms cannot do so during school hours. This is a serious over reach into the private life and production of families. I cannot accurately describe how vehemently I am opposed to this. Government has no business controlling and micromanaging peoples lives in a free society.

I also don’t appreciate them legislating our food. People should have the freedom to choose if they want to buy fresh milk, or products not produced by factory farming or big dairy. Our kids should have the option to participate where they want to, to play cowboy, or live a dream of a waning lifestyle. I want them to know freedom and have the freedom to CHOOSE what they will do. I want parents to have the freedom to raise their kids the way they feel is best. They know best what their children are mature enough and capable of. Kids are not all alike and do not all fit in the same mold.

I didn’t like the style of Nazi Germany’s interference in the lives of its people and I don’t like what is happening here.

Please help fight for our future. Arm yourself with knowledge of what is being brought before our congress and do your part to contact your representatives and stop the decay of our future.

Thanks, and God bless you,

“Petey”

amendment*

if there are some inaccuracies due to my lack of mental acuity today, i apologize. The Dept of Labor has instituted these policies. Here is a link to better information. http://blog.beefmagazine.com/beef_daily/2011/10/27/new-labor-rules-could-impact-farms-ranchers/ and http://www.farmers-exchange.net/detailPage.aspx?articleID=10464

We have to try to stay informed and keep things like this from being implemented. I totally understand the desire to protect young people, as there are farm accidents, both with youth and adults, but to paint everything with one broad brush stroke will be debilitating not only to farm families, individual kids, but to the nation as a whole.

Free Fall

2011-11-04T21:32:00.000-07:00

We left for California with tomatoes beginning to ripen on the vine and squash almost big enough to pick. We came home to frozen water troughs, and vines and flowers blasted from killing frosts. Warm sunny days have turned gray and cloudy and the hands of time have moved forward again. The sheep, goats and cows are busily cleaning up all the fallen pears, apples and apricots out in the pasture orchard. Most of the leaves have turned and fallen. It is a different world we returned to.

I find cloudy days in the city gloomy and oppressive but out here they are wild and beautiful. It’s a rare blessing to be able to go out and ride and take in the beauty of the new season. Soon there will be ice and snow, but for now, there are new colors and patterns all over the ranch. The migratory birds are coming back, passing through on their way south. We are an aviary fly zone in this valley and are visited by many different and unusual types of birds.

Three of us went to move some cow/calf pairs and ran across migratory Mallards, Canadian Geese and Trumpeter Swans on a pond we rode past. We had to carefully pick our way across the boggy ground, trying to find a way to get to some cows we saw heading towards the desert to escape us.
The ground changes from bog to alkali and it is spongy underneath our horses' feet. It feels hollow and is hard to travel on, but we keep going as it changes every mile or so. We finally reach our destination and push the cows through the gate into the pasture they will stay in for the night. Tomorrow someone will have to come back and take them the rest of the way, but now its getting too late.

There is a nip in the air but it doesn’t stop my horse from breaking a sweat as we long trot back towards the ranch headquarters after our 5 hours or so of riding. I love the smell. It's earthy and comforting.

The once green grass takes on a tawny hue and looks soft against the blue-green sagebrush.

Where we've been....the grass is golden, the mountains blue-purple and the sky is every shade of blue, grey and white.

Wild geese and swans

The Trumpeter swans take wing as if late for their fairy tale.

Approaching headquarters at dusk, the pastures glow in the last rays of the sun while the ranch houses rest in the shadow of the mountain.

I unsaddle Wimpy and give him a little grain in appreciation of his help, then get the wagon so I can milk EmmaLou and feed the calves. The pups come to keep me company and Cletus' big furry head works its way up under my arm while his tail beats in time to the milking machine. Night settles down around us like a comforter and I turn everyone out for the night and head to the house with my bucket full of warm, steamy milk.

Its a good life.

Second Time Around

2011-10-31T18:36:00.000-07:00

We FINALLY got it all together and made our trip to California, to meet our newest VIP, Kinley Grace P.

Day 1. We get up early, load my favorite pillows into the truck and whatever hasn’t been loaded the night before and we begin the 14 hour drive to spend a week with Cody, Krystal, Abby and our newest VIP, Kinley Grace. We arrive a little after dark and the long, grueling, butt-punishing drive is worth it, as Abby runs out the door and into our arms.

Even though we only get to see Abby a few days a year, her folks help build that relationship by talking about us and reminding Abby of the things we have done together. Not everyone has kids this great, but we do.

Abby’s mom has hot beef sandwiches ready and we wolf them down, grateful for the flavor and the sustenance. We unpack the ludicrous amount of things I brought down..roasting pans, crepe pans, cookware, spices, frozen meat, veggies, etc. Cody asks if I brought toilet paper. A family joke, as my mom used to bring her own when she came to visit our house. You would think corn cobs weren’t luxurious enough or something. I show Krystal how to mix up Boule bread as I just know they are gonna like it. I brought a 10# foodsafe bucket down for them to keep so they can make it when we are gone. We leave the bucket of dough on the counter to rise and I put it in the fridge at midnight-ish when I wake up. Perfect.

Day2

I scarcely remember day 2 as we were recovering. Driving this distance and being away from my critters takes a lot out of me. I am pretty sure we spent it getting re acquainted with Abby and getting to know Kinley. Cody makes a huge breakfast and we indulge ourselves shamefully. That night we have dinner with Krystal’s Mom and sister, who has a baby boy only 2 weeks older than Kinley. They’ll be thick as thieves growing up, I am sure. We pass out gifts of soap and swap stories at dinner and look forward to when they can all come up to the ranch to visit. Cody tells us how one of his hunters wanted to celebrate his success with a cigar. Not wanting to offend him, Cody took a couple puffs then threw it in the fire. That night, upon coming home, he went in to kiss Abby good night and she told him “Daddy, you smell like a LAWNMOWER!”

Out of the the mouths of babes.

Day 3

We get up at the crack of dawn, pack everything into 2 vehicles and proceed to embark on the 4 hour drive down California’s Hwy 10 to Palm Desert to visit Great Grampa Bob and Granma Betty.

We head to Grampa’s favorite hamburger joint to overindulge in burgers and fries. Granma Betty drives us and Randy and I sit in the backseat of their car. Randy is practically vibrating, as he is a big man who is EXTREMELY claustrophobic. He white knuckles it the 5 minutes or so it takes to arrive at our destination. He exits the car so quickly it nearly causes a vacuum that sucks me out the door. I am proud of him, as he didn’t throw himself out on the highway like I thought he would.

Abby decides she wants to visit the restroom and as I am the only one who can also get out of the booth, I am the designated escort. We enter the bathroom, she goes through her ritual and while sitting on the her porcelain throne, she informs me “See? It just isn’t gonna come out.”

I ask why, as I have no other comment to offer to this revelation. She replies “Because, it doesn’t WANT to.”

She promptly dismounts, readjusts her outfit and covers her ears which is my cue to flush, in spite of our failure to produce. I follow her back out to join the rest of our family, marveling at how a 3 year old can make the most common and mundane of daily tasks hilariously funny.

We head back to Grampa’s house and Great Granma Betty brings a stuffed toy penguin to Abby then sits and holds Kinley on her lap. She says “I will trade you that penguin for your baby sister, would you like to trade?”

Abby bites her lower lip and says “No.” But she continues to free the penguin from his box.

“How about if I just keep her for a week and you can have the penguin?”

Abby contemplates this new offer and says “No, that would not be good.”

“How long can I keep her for then?” inquires Betty.

After biting her bottom lip in deep thought, Abby says “You can keep her a couple of days and we will come back and pick her up.”

“Okay, we will keep her two days and you can have the penguin”

“I’ll go ask my mom.”

Abby runs to the back room where Krystal is organizing the truckload of baby stuff that is necessary to bring an infant on a one day excursion, as anyone who has ever had a baby, knows. She comes back shortly and announces

“Mom says you can have her!”

Six hours later, our visit comes to an end. Granma Betty is still holding Kinley as Abby passes out goodbye hugs and kisses. Betty tells her “Don’t forget to kiss Kinley goodbye”.

Abby puckers up her lips, then suddenly, realizing the penguin is already safely tucked away in the vehicle, says “No!!” and reaches out to spirit Kinley to safer quarters.

I think she has definitely made the adjustment from only-child to big sister.

Day 5

The most significant thing I can remember about day 5 is that I finally finished crocheting Kinley's blanket while holding her on my lap. RA flares prevented me from getting it done before she was born, but I found actually HOLDING a baby is surefire incentive to get a blanket completed! It fit perfectly. :)

It turned out to be a good thing, as a small teddybear I had made for Abby three years earlier, had lost its leg and I was able to replace it with the yarn I brought down for Kinley's blanket. You see? God always has a plan. Just like letting Cletus get cheatgrass in his ear the Monday before. I would have been making the 14 hour drive to California alone, without cell phone service on a seldom travelled road. As it was, I wound up being admitted to the hospital that afternoon with a horrendously painful kidney stone. Somehow being half way to California under the aforementioned conditions would not have seemed pleasant.

Pumpkin patches are exhausting.

Day 6

A chubby finger is gouged into my eyeball and drags the lid up until light assaults my exposed eyeball. Giggles rise on the air like bubbles as soft, blonde, curly hair tickles my nose and Abby brings me into full consciousness, saying

“Wake up GRAMMY!”, laughing breathlessly.

I drag her body onto the bed, vying for a little more sleep when an insistent squeaking starts from below. The dog whose face is wrapped around an ill used squeaky toy begins beating out a rhythm on the floor with his tail. Wyatt is awake and he wants to play too. Wyatt is the largest black labrador I have ever laid eyes on. He is big and black and shiny. His tail is thick, his leg bones are thick, he is enormous, but there is not an ounce of fat on him. At Cody’s request he has dragged the carcasses of wild boars weighing a couple hundred pounds down the road for him. He is parked at the side of the bed, squeaking the pitiful remains of a stuffed dog toy, while his body undulates like a fish in anticipation of my grabbing it from him. He doesn’t want me to throw it, he just wants to drag my body through the house with it. I comply and he pulls me off of the bed, leaving Abby and Randyman behind. It’s time to get up. This is our second to last morning to wake up here this trip. Tomorrow we will visit the last of the family on our itinerary and head home. It’s bittersweet as I hate to leave and there are so many people we did not get to see, but I am having critter withdrawals. If I don’t see Emma and the Maremmas soon, I will be traumatized beyond redemption. Cider is anxious to get home as sleeping in the backseat of the truck is not nearly as appealing as his papasan chair at home.

We drive an hour or so to a mall to an Apple store as some issues have arisen with Krystal’s B-day present. As we left the Apple store, she asked if I wanted to follow her around the baby clothes store, or stay and look at Koi fish with Abby. As my hips were hurting pretty badly, I chose the fish.

It had not occurred to me, that Abby would run laps around the fishpond, just out of my reach. There was a walk way that bisected the pond, so she could actually figure 8 and lap me. She was very good about not jumping in, or standing on the ledge, but she did feel it was important to let her ‘baby’ have a good close look at the fish. With impeccable timing, I clotheslined her the next time she went into passing gear and jerked her up off of her feet. I carried her, under protest, to the store her mom and baby sister were shopping in. We decided to go into stealth mode.

We ducked and ran quickly from one clothing rack to the next, hiding behind displays and streaking to the next display with amazing speed and dexterity. We put the pink Panther to shame with our evasive skills. Kystal, Abby’s mom, was ALL the way in the back of the store. We made it to the racks just in front of her...or behind her, as she was facing the opposite way, when Abby noted a table with Legos. Another little kid was there building a city, so Abby planted herself next to her and began some construction of her own. I stepped back into the shadows to watch.

Her mother finally turned around, oblivious to our presence and slowly began working her way to the front. She glanced at the Lego table and the most remarkable thing happened. I could read her mind. It wasn’t just me, I am sure her thoughts became audible as the lady next to me had the same look on her face, that I know I had. Krystal glanced at the back of Abby’s head and thought “Aww...that little girl has blonde curly hair just like Abby’s!”

She looked away just for a moment, before her head jerked back again, this time looking a bit disturbed...and she thought “That little girl is wearing the same DRESS as Abby...”

As her thought process was still attempting to make the leap to “That IS Abby! Where is Grammy?”

I said “It looks remarkably like your daughter, doesn’t it?”

The lady next to me was trying to stifle her laughter as Krystal gave free rein to her own.

She used her GPS to find our way to a BabiesRUs to pick something up and on the way back we stopped at the bottom of the hill, where we were to turn right...and waited...and waited...until she jolted upright and cried out an expletive, confessing she was waiting for the light to turn green.

We were at a stop sign.

Abby asked from the back seat “What did mommy say?”

To which I replied “She said SHIFT! And the funny thing is, you have an automatic transmission.”

It was good enough for Abby, so it is good enough for me. Meantime, Krystal is still laughing and trying to figure out how she could be so confused. I know. I am contagious.

When we got home, I set about to fix dinner so Krystal can feed the baby and deal with Apple reps on the phone. Abby was running around being Abby. She ran up to me in the kitchen, pulling her dress up around her ears and said “Look Grammy!!”

Next she jerked her panties down, grabbed her ankles with her caboose in the air and said “See??I wiped off the poop!”

Without waiting for a response, she yanked her pants back up, dropped her dress and was gone with the next whirlwind. I stood blinking at empty space, wondering just when and where I lost my own exuberance over the ability to perform the most basic daily living skills. I think next trip I make to the commode, I too, will try to giggle and glory in my independence, finding joy in the minutiae of life. I think that is the secret to a truly successful second childhood.

I probably should spend sometime pondering how to make it up to Abby when she is old enough to read and stops speaking to me because I shared this story with you. OH well. She is too cute not to share.

Wednesday afternoon we spend with Randyman’s mom, youngest daughter and her 3 little ones. Her oldest is 3, and she has new twins. That makes for a pretty hectic day. The oldest has a little electric car. She sent him out with his daddy to babysit so she could tend to her chores while watching the twins. Shortly after the phone rang. The neighbor called to let her know her son was at the park talking to a policeman. Apparently Dad forgot he was babysitting, so the little feller drove his electric car down to the park. Kids. You gotta love ‘em!

The twins, and their big brother giving me 'the eye'.

That evening, we finally make it to our last stop just before dark. No one told our last 3 VIP’s of this trip that we were coming, so they were very surprised. We no sooner got out of the pick up than 2 little girls in renaissance dresses and one little boy small enough that a bandana served as a super hero’s cape launched themselves into my arms. Bad back or not, it is the most pleasant sensation I can think of. We had dinner, swapped stories, did lots of giggling, watched a small sibling war over a pair of boots and finally passed out.

We headed home in the wee hours of the morning after kissing them all goodbye in their beds. It’s hard to leave them, but its good to come home. I can’t wait until they all come back to play with us, as they share my love of cows, goats, sheep chickens and dogs. Its nice to have someone that thinks like you. I even love the grown-ups a lot and someday will be as mature as them. But for now, I will just work on my second time around as it’s always the best.

Two Days in the Fall

2011-10-15T19:58:00.000-07:00

After a somewhat challenging week, I found myself in a fit of good health and was able to resume riding...at least for a couple of days. The horses were wrangled up into the corral and Wimpy didn’t even bother to run from me. He is so convinced he is retired that he saw no reason to exert any effort, so I haltered him and lugged him over to the milk room where my saddle is. He was fairly astonished. I got him ready then stuffed him in the barn to wait on everyone else. We loaded up in the trailer and drove a few miles down to the corrals where we gathered up about 400 head of dry cows. We were moving them to another pasture a few more miles up the road.

We split up and I rode up the fence line to kick up some cows we could easily see and start them toward the road, as well as find whoever might be hiding. There were 14 sneaky cows in the willows that traveled all the way to the top of the pasture where the sage is heavy and there is a dry creek that runs pretty deep. We trailed them thru there, and they jumped down into a new holding pond which is dry, but has a cement spillway and I wasn’t about to ride down it with a shod horse. I turned Wimpy and we trotted thru shoulder high sagebrush and greasewood. It caught me up and tore my pants, so I am now down to one good pair. With nothing but straight 7 foot banks, we wound our way around until we found a passable entrance to the creek bed and after running across the rocks a bit, we popped up on the other side to see my errant cows just ahead of me.

We pushed them up on the road and over the next couple of hours had few mishaps except for when they went thru a hole in the fence and had to be turned back. As usual, with our heavy traffic, there was one vehicle that passed during the hours we were moving the cows. We got them all across the big field they were going to stay in and drove them all the way to the water tank back by the mountain.

It was hot and we were a little weary, so we pulled our saddles and gave ourselves and the horses a bit of a rest. Wimpy was grateful. We’d begun at around 8 in the morning and we got back at 3. It felt good to be bone tired.

The next morning, the ranch kids were home, so 6 of us went out to move some more cows. The new cowboss has a just turned 7 year old girl with a great little horse, so she came along too.

We rode out and crossed a few creeks and boggy spots before splitting up and cleaning out the field.

The ‘fields’ or pastures here are enormous. It takes a good long while to ride from one corner to another, and you cannot see the fences from the middle as they are so far away. The grass has turned and there are just hints of green at the bottom of the wheat and golden colored stalks that rise up from the boggy ground. There are rust colored specimens that resemble a marshweed that stand like sentinels in contrast to the tawny grasses around them. Riding along, we pass sun bleached bones in the deep grass and see an occasional coyote skulking away. The sounds of the cattle lowing relaxes me and I realize that I can still hear crickets, or locusts around me, along with an occasional bird call. We pass through a gate and after riding a ways, I remain to turn the cattle thru the next fence while the cowboy I was with long trotted out of sight to help bring the herd from the far corner.

I piddle around with Wimpy while we wait, flexing his head, backing up some, trotting in some circles and winding them down to pivots. He perks up out of his apathy and it helps relieve my boredom while I wait alone. About 5-600 head of cows show up and drift through the desired gate. A few errant cows try to head down the swath of golden grass towards the open gate behind me so we sidle over to block their advance. They are still a good way off, but they see us and choose to turn and follow their compatriots to the next field. The boys have been trailing a weak calf along, but he finally fails and sinks down into the mud. They pull him out and we wait while someone rides to the truck and trailer to get a syringe and antibiotics for him. It won’t likely help as he is probably too sick to recover, but we want to try.

We leave him until someone can go back with a 4-wheeler to get him and bring him in. We trailer on out in the direction of the desert to push yesterdays cows back to water.

We drop 3 people and their horses at the first corner of the field then drive a little past midway. We unload and I ride down the center with our littlest rider while her dad heads to the far corner to kick the cows up from there.

A couple of cows wander off a bit and lag behind, she so kicks her horse up and gallops up to push them back.

After we get all the cows to water, everyone takes a breather. The boys think up some mischief, such as tying a piece of ribbon to a cows’ tail. They take off swinging their ropes, but this time it was cows-1, cowboys-0.

We get back home 6 hours after we started and once again I am happily tired. I realize I must be contagious, as Cletus is too tired to sit up and clean plates. He does it laying down. We’ll all sleep well tonite.

Stoned??

2011-10-12T09:56:00.000-07:00

With plans to go and meet my new VIP, I have had major delays. First, EmmaLou started bloating, which required immediate attention, as a cow can die rapidly from this condition. A week later, she was lined out and doing well. I began to pack the truck.

Enter Cletus. He starts shaking his head madly and crying. It looks as though there is a foxtail down in his ear. Last year this happened and ruptured his ear drum. I make an appointment with the vet, but they can’t see him until Monday, so I have to delay my trip yet again.

Deciding that both dogs need their rabies booster and Samby the Lamby is due at freezer camp, we decide to do it all at once, justifying the use of the big stock trailer and saving us the embarrassment of using it to just haul Cletus in.

The dogs rode in the back half with Samby as there were ginormous tractor tires in the front that had to be dropped off in town. Cletus was pretty stressed out, as it was a trip to the vet which had started all his claustrophobia and traveling problems. Bruno was very non-chalant, though not happy about leaving the majority of their charges behind.

We dropped Samby off and everything went smoothly. The butcher suggested selling my soap in their shop and even had a little area to display them. I told him I would think about it, but I would like to work out a trade for their lard and tallow.

Our next stop was the veterinary clinic. There was a new receptionist who apparently wasn’t familiar with these types of dogs. I tried to explain that they are claustrophic and extremely large. She was less than cooperative or understanding. She suggested we bring Bruno in first. We explained that IF we were going to attempt bringing the dogs inside, they would do best together and she objected vehemently. I shrugged and went after Bruno.

He did fine until he saw the front door. At that point I had to insist. I got him through the door, albeit under protest, but all was ok while we were on the doormat inside. Once we stepped off the mat onto the slippery tile, it was a whole different ball game. Bruno hit the ground like a soldier under fire. He became flatter than a rug and heavier than a tank. His breathing was rapid and shallow and I had to physically pull and drag his inert body towards the scale. Unsuccessful, the vet came and gave him his shot at the front door while he played dead and invisible. He looked VERY much like a rug. I pulled him outside with great effort where he finally got to his feet and towed me back to the trailer. I looked at Cletus, who is much larger, with his wild eyes, slavering madly with nerves. He had gotten so stressed that he required the services of a bush or reststop, which of course, was not available to him, so he had left his little gift on the wheel well of the trailer. Charming.

I proceeded to put a leash on him and with my pulling and Randyman pushing, Cletus yelped and growled and grumbled his way ALMOST into the big building where the cows and horses are treated. It would have been far easier to get a recalcitrant cow or horse in there.

I put the proffered muzzle over his face and we held him tightly while he shook, trembled, vibrated with anxiety and the vet shook visibly as she noted his size and the level of his discomfort. He never made any move to be aggressive, he only tried evasive tactics. Unfortunately, the vet said the ear was so swollen inside, she could not help, so I have to put medication inside 2x a day for the next week and try again.

Cletus was a lot more cooperative getting in the horse trailer than he had been that morning.

I had been in a good deal of pain since early that morning. It seemed to grow in intensity through out the day and I was sure I needed to get home and find a position that would be more comfortable, or at the very least, find a way to extract the broadsword that I was certain someone had impaled me on when I wasn't looking.

Randyman had several errands to run, gathering vehicle parts for the ranch. As the hours dragged by slowly, things became a bit more intense.

Finally, I decided the wisest course of action was not to rush home, but have Randyman drop me off at the nearest hospital, where they immediately admitted me. I became more anxious to go and see Kinley and Abby and worried about what was wrong and how far this would set us back.

Several hours afterwards, the tests came back, a rupturing appendix was ruled out, along with gall bladder problems. It was discovered that I was about to give birth to a kidney stone.

My lovely daughter in law called the hospital and we had a discussion about things as well as the fact that passing a stone is often compared to labor. However, I mentioned, at least she got a baby for her efforts.

She then informed me that after her day, she would be happy to trade me for a kidney stone, as they are not likely to keep you awake after all is said and done.

Point taken!

Hopefully, we can make the exchange next week.

Shleepy

2011-10-05T15:38:00.000-07:00

I woke up still a little sleepy. You know how your eyes can be kind of blurry and you don’t really pay much attention to detail? It was that kind of morning.

I went out to let in EmmaLou so I could give her breakfast and noticed the hawk was still hanging around, so I needed to put more chicken feed in the coop as letting them free range didn’t seem like a good idea with him around. I remembered I had a bucket of scraps for them, so, with the ‘polar bears’ following me, I opened the back door to the house and walked around the kitchen table to get the bucket.

Randy started pointing and stammering..I could see out of the corner of my eye he was pointing at Bruno and making wild gestures. I couldn’t understand what his problem was, then I turned around and noticed both Bruno AND Cletus were standing on the other side of me. I turned back again, to find the object of his agitation was a sheep, standing in my kitchen.

I have NO idea where she came from, but apparently, she just fell in line and followed us right in the house. She started heading through the bedroom door, but as she was solo and I wasn't likely to fall back asleep counting to one, I saw no reason she needed to go there. She began to moving faster when Randy headed towards her, as if she was about to bolt and lead us on a merry chase through the house, so I nonchalantly said “Come on guys!” and walked out the door. Once again, she followed the dogs and we went back to her pasture. I guess she felt it was time for a field trip to someplace new.

Living way out here has a lot of perks. The boss has lots of really nice friends who often shower them with gifts and we become the beneficiaries of some of them. One guy brings lots and lots of fresh blueberries from his farm and we always get some too. A really nice guy who owns a big nursery came bearing more long stemmed roses than I have ever seen in one place. One of the boys brought about 30 of them to me to put in a vase. I also got two nice big Chrysanthemums to plant in my garden. There were large burlap bags of fresh corn and lugs of peaches, and onions and potatoes. We were discussing how I had to sell “Tooney” because I can’t get her sheared and boss wife’s father, who is also the farmer who brought all the food said “I brought the trailer. We’ll just haul her back and have my neighbor do it.”

I’m excited about that, because I like Tooney and this way she can stay at least another year and we can see what kind of lamb she has with the new little DorperX ram.

Unfortunately, there will be no baby goats this year, as the nice lady who loaned us her buck and her ram lost them both to pneumonia this summer.

I was sick to hear about it, as they were both really nice animals.

Cletus went out to the pasture with the sheep and decided to spend the night there. I went ahead and let him, as it seemed like a good idea. Come morning, he was the only one there. The new sheep are little and climbed through the fence. Things aren’t working out quite like I had hoped.

I am planning a trip to see my wonderful family, whom I miss greatly. This must be why Emma keeps bloating. I went out to feed her last night, only to find her resembling something from a Shrek cartoon. All she needed was for someone to tie a string to her. I got her in the old headgate and proceeded to try and pass a stomach tube down her to let the gas out. A milking headgate gives a cow a great deal more liberty than the headgate on a squeeze chute. This enabled her to fling me around and around, in spite of my current lack of petiteness. I was 100% UNsuccessful, so I put a leadrope on her and began dragging her around the ranch hoping to deflate her that way. After awhile I ran across my nephew who is one of the cowboys here and just a super, really nice, anyone-who-doesn’t-love-him-is-crazy, kind of guy and he came to help me hold her head while I passed the tube again. Even though he is every bit as large as Randyman, and maybe just a hair taller, she gave him a hard time. I finally managed to get the tube in and there was some foul air escaping but not enough. After doing what we could in that direction, I managed to get a little bit of bloat medicine down her throat with a dosing syringe and she began to look a wee bit better. Sadly, she got no dinner because of the situation and I had been hoping to keep or even try to put some weight on her. I separated the babies and kicked her out with the bull.

This morning she looked good, except for the fact that it had gone from too-hot-to-wear-a-sweatshirt, to cold and rainy and like her mother used to do, she was shivering madly. I tossed them both some hay and went back to the house for coffee.

Fifteen minutes later, I went out to give Emma her grain and she was bloated again.

Realizing it had to be the new hay, which is about all we have to feed her, I began to panic. The fence is down in the milk pasture and we can’t keep the cows in it. There is no telling when anyone will be able to repair it, so hay is all we have. Problems keep compounding and I couldn’t help myself but to let the tears come as they may. Shades of Dolly again.

I got some more bloat medicine mixed up and Randyman held her while I got it down her throat. She was much better about it today than last nite, perhaps she knew she would get the tube again if she wasn’t. I also gave her a bolus of probiotics for cattle and stuffed a magnet down her throat, because she needs one. Sadly, a magnet won’t do much good for most of the things you find on the ground around here, but it won’t hurt her and might save her life if she gets hardware disease. She must have thought it was a pretty powerful one, because after I opened the headgate to let her loose, she stood there with her neck against the pipe as though stuck to it. Everyone needs a cow with a warped sense of humor.

Randyman managed to find one of the big haybales from last year and brought it over for me to feed her. As usual, he is my hero. He is all the stuff that fairytales and romance novels are made of, only he is real, and he’s all mine.

He dragged a large flake of hay out for Emma to dine on. There is a very small shelter in the corral she and the calves are in so she can get out of the rain if she feels she needs to. The pups went with me to see if she was ready to go back out with her AkaUshi boyfriend, “Harry Chin”. He doesn’t really have a hairy chin, but I liked the name anyway. I think it sounds very oriental. Now that he’s muddy, I can just call him “Dirty Harry”.

She wasn’t ready. She and the calves had made a nice little bed in the leftover hay and were napping in the little bit of sun that broke through the clouds. Cletus, who is about as abnormal as I am about animals, must have known she wasn’t feeling good. He waltzed over and did his nose touch to her. She butted him as hard as she could, while still laying down. He came back and kissed her on the nose and she butted him again. Instead of avoiding her, he snuggled up next to her and kept her company. He reminds me of Randy. He loves her enough to overlook her bad attitude and crotchety manners, her growling and grumbling and chooses to keep her company in her misery.

She finally perked up and joined the others. I had to leave all the gates open so she could find her way back to the shelter if necessary. This means Harry is loose in there and I must deal with him when I go to feed her. So far he has been pretty much a gentleman, but I am not crazy about bulls. She seems to like them though.

Cletapotamus came back to the house with me. He has an ear bothering him but I am not sure why. He shakes his head a little and moans when I rub it. I am hoping it feels better soon as I can’t find anything, so if its in there, its WAY in there.

He came in the house and gave me a hug too, before stepping back outside. He has the most expressive eyes I have ever seen. Bruno can beg pretty good and makes his desires known by using his feet or standing on something. Cletus just uses his eyes. They are impossible to ignore. Where Bruno stands up and puts his feet on the windows of the backdoor, Cletus is tall enough to just stand outside and look in with the most pitiful and soulful eyes imaginable. He usually gets his way too.

The lambs and goats are sticking close to the house, the chickens are locked up, so I let the ‘boys’ in for company. They don’t talk much, but they are very good listeners and it is comforting to have their big hairy selves laying around, watching me do stuff. I have plans to pack some extra weight on my nephew before winter so I am making a Shepherds Pie to have for dinner tonight. The ranch just got 3 beefs back from butchering and there are 2 huge freezers full of hamburger so I’m looking for ways to use it up, that I find palatable. Ground beef is not my favorite thing, although it has its place.

So far, Em hasn’t bloated this afternoon on the old bale of hay. I hope that is over now and I hope against hope that someone will fix that dang pasture soon so she can get back to grazing like she needs to and I can make my 13 hour drive to go see my kids, or at least the ones I will be able to see. Meantime, I am grateful for my hero who has pledged to stay home and take care of the critters in my absence. It’s not much fun to go visiting, when your heart is squeezed by stress over what might be happening at home. I'm gonna miss him, but I know he will keep the home fires burning.