Petey's Most Awesome, Pretty Good Day

The freezers are full. In order to relieve some of the ‘congestion’ I grabbed the few chicken carcasses left from when I parted out meaties and tossed them in the stock pot, along with some onion, peppercorns, carrots, a couple ribs of celery, fresh from the garden thyme and parsley, a little rosemary and some garlic. I added a couple of necks and of course, the feet, which had been cleaned. Chicken feet make the best kind of stock because they are mostly cartilage and supply all the glucosamine and chondroitin you could want. I let it simmer all day and the smell is heavenly. Once it is done and everything has been pretty much leached into the broth, I let it cool down some, then strain it into another large stockpot. That goes to the walk in to chill, while I pick through the solids that remain, putting bones in one bag, the veggies in a bucket to throw on the compost and the meat into a bowl. I gleaned enough meat off of the 3 carcasses to make  Chinese Chicken Salad, with more than half a bowl left over. This is one of my favorite summer salads so I was tickled to have it readily accessible. The only things I don't always have on hand are fresh celery, bean sprouts and the chinese noodles, but I grabbed some last trip to town. The dry noodles will keep a pretty long time so I’ll be picking up extra next trip and I have ordered mung beans to make our own sprouts, as they don’t last long and often, I can’t find them in the stores I go to. Green onions are always available in my back yard, winter and summer. I always have dry celery on hand, but not fresh, so that is something that is always on the grocery list and I always make something that requires it when we get it home. Then whatever is left over, goes in the dehydrator for soups and stews later on.

Uncharacteristically, I awoke before dawn one morning and not from being in any pain. In fact, I felt like a million bucks, so I quietly snuck outside in the dark under what was left of the moon and headed to the back pasture. I’d heard Cletus barking so I figured something was out of place back there, although he was quiet again so whatever it had been, had already been handled. I snuk up to the alley fence and peeked over to see all the sheep had been huddled together out in the open at the top of the pasture. Both Maremmas were trotting toward them so apparently it had been an encounter of the sheeple-threatening kind. The pups suddenly became aware of me and seconds later I was met in the corral by 200+ lb of highly enthusiastic, wagging polar bodies. After establishing that our infatuation for each other had not dimmed, we watched the sun rise together. It was a wonderful beginning to the day.

EmmaLouMoo has been out back with the bull and about a dozen cows for the past several weeks. SushiMoo has been isolated as she is too young to breed, and we were using the opportunity of her being lonely to get her to bond with us and become a bit more social. She was able to come and go from the corrals and out to the horse pasture as she pleased. Unfortunately, she found a way thru the fences and was loose out with the rest. I was able to capture Wimpy and saddle him (something I had not been able to do in months) and rode down to bring all the cows up from the bottom of the pasture and separate Em and Sushi out into the corral. They tried to pull a sneaky by racing back around the octopus tree and trying to double back on me while we were caught up in the wet, mucky ground, but Wimpy was a good boy and we managed to head them off and accomplish our objective. It made me a very happy camper.

A couple of days later Sushi came in heat which was a relief because #1 she for sure didn’t get bred over night and #2 it means she can go back out there for a couple of weeks until she is due to come in again, at which time I will bring her up and separate her again until her heat is over and turn her loose again. It makes her a much happier little cow.

The Red Rangers are STILL not ready to butcher. We definitely won’t be buying anymore of them as they don’t hold a candle to the cornishX as far as being economical and quick to finish. I know a lot of folks like them because they are hardier, but as we’ve not had problems with the CX, we’ll happily stick with them. 

When I had gone to visit Wimpy and Mister, Thomas followed me into the big corral and waited at the gate. When I returned, he wouldn’t let me pass. The next thing I knew, he began attacking me. He was running at me and jumping up, flapping his wings and kicking at me with his feet. I was using a foot to kick him back each time but he continued. I finally hollered for Bruno, who rescued me by body blocking Thomas and keeping him from getting too close to me. The heavy socialization and bonding I did with the Maremmas, once again paid off. It looks like Thomas might grace our Thanksgiving table, after all. He’s happily residing beneath the raspberry bushes with the Rangers for now.

It’s been unusually hot this summer and the garden has suffered for it. The flowers and hidden veggies have been making a valiant effort to survive and compete with the weeds.

I love sneaking stuff like cabbage and squash into the flower gardens

Hopefully, next year I will be more successful in my battle with weeds and dirt. For now, I'll just settle for what we have and plan on starting more perennials next spring to fill in the spots that need it.

Going out with Randyman to feed the other night, Cletus roared and took off out of the corral toward the orchard. He was upset because THIS guy and his co hort were parked in the trees. Apparently, Cletapotamus has not forgotten that they killed a bunch of his meaties and he was unable to stop them.

As for the rest, he's been fairly vigilant so I've got no worries.

Yesterday I pulled the stockpot out of the walk in, skimmed the fat off the top and canned  2 gallons of chicken broth as well as 7 qts of mixed veggies-carrots, potatoes, corn, peas and butter beans. The plan is to be able to grab a jar of veggies and a jar of chicken I have canned, dump them in a pie crust with some gravy and have a quick chicken pot pie. I tested the theory last night and it was a GOOD plan!! I think I will can more veggies and perhaps a couple different mixes with mushrooms and such as this would be good for sheperds pie, beef pot pies and some other stuff too. It's been a pretty good week for me and I'm looking forward to August!

 Hope you are too.

Meatiness-Harvesting our Cornish X

We are wealthy beyond description. In spite of my poor health, a bad economy and extreme isolation, we have God’s presence wherever we go. It’s a comforting and reassuring feeling.

Living as simply as we can, in a small rock house provided by our employer, I have found untold riches in the things we do. First of all, the boss and his fanily have been more than generous and allow us the privilege to live as we like, painting or doing whatever, on the little house and yard, as well as keeping my dogs, milk cow and other critters in the pastures around us. They have even made donations from time to time.

 What was originally dirt and thistle is slowly becoming a back yard full of flowers and a vegetable patch. One day it will be my sanctuary where I can sit in the shade and let my eyes lazily follow the flight of the many butterflies who grace the landscape. Even now, I revel in the glimpses of flowers in rioting color, purple coneflowers, white and yellow daisies, pink zinnias, red hollyhocks, blue flax and others. It’s pleasing both to the eye and to the soul. I love to look out and see the climbing roses, 7 and 8 foot tall sunflowers and hollyhocks against the backdrop of the old rock wall, with 4 O’clocks and lavender resting at their feet. The emerald green of the backyard lawn keeps things cool and keeps the dust down while providing a beautiful background for the old water troughs full of marigolds, foxglove, petunias and trailing sweet potato vines. The vegetable patch has had a rough year this year, between the odd weather, the heavy winds and my back injury which allowed the weeds to get a foothold and provide fierce competition with my corn, potatoes, broccoli and other plants, but they will do the best they can. The strawberries were struggling this year as well, as my water system for them is less than adequate and they are too crowded and full of weeds. I’ll have to dig them all up and replant them later this year. Nevertheless, they were sweet and delicious. The raspberries however, have been practically giddy. I have picked a couple gallons of them and they just keep coming. It looks like we will get our first blackberries this year too. I can’t wait.

This was meatie week. We had to process all of our CornishX chickens as they are nigh onto 9 weeks old and that is about the age their hearts begin to fail them. We usually like to process at 8 weeks, but I wasn’t able to do it because of some bad flares last week. We’ve got a system going. We get up early and do about a dozen before it gets hot, then Randyman can go to work and I can clean up and rest. We withhold dinner from them the night before we process, so their crops will be empty, as its kinda nasty otherwise.They have all day to forage so it’s not hard on them at all. They just go in the shed with their water for the night. We grab two at a time and quietly carry them to the traffic cones which hang upside down from a piece of fence by our BBQ. We slide the chickens in, and they get quiet and woozy from being upside down. They are then dispatched by cutting the main artery on the neck. Having been in several accidents myself as well as having graced a few surgery tables, I know that the initial cut may be uncomfortable, but unconsciousness comes rapidly. Their death is quick, sure and pretty trauma free. It’s not a bad way for them to go. I’m happy knowing my chickens lived a happy and carefree life with only a brief flash of discomfort in their passing as opposed to commercial chickens who live a miserable life from beginning to end. Ours are appreciated and I even say a little prayer over each one before we dispatch them. Some people might find that silly, but not me. If He knows every sparrow that falls, I think He cares about chickens too. 

The process is pretty clean cut. Dispatch, let them bleed out, then dunk them in the turkey fryer which is full of water at about 150 degrees. When the wing tip feathers come out easily, they are ready to throw into the drum plucker. We turn that on, use a hose to spray the feathers off the sides as they are removed, and after about 45 seconds they are clean as a whistle.

The set up.

Next, onto the table where I do the eviscerating as Randyman’s hands are too big and clumsy. I only told him they are too big though. Once the insides are all cleaned out, the heads, hearts and livers are thrown in a bucket for the dogs as we don’t care for them ourselves, the cat and her kittens clean up the gizzards and some of the other entrails. The clean bird is put in a cooler full of ice water to quickly chill. We do only about a dozen a day as Randyman still has to go to work. We got up early in the morning so we’d be done before then and before it was hot. Once they are chilled, they come in the house. I rinse them again with cold water, set them two at a time on a ‘beer butt chicken stand’ to drain, while I heat more clean water to 180.

I bag the birds in a shrink wrap bag, tie the ends off, make a little hole in the breast then dunk it in the hot water. Lots of bubbles come up, the bag shrinks and tightens and after just a few seconds, I pull it up out of the water and shazaam!! A beautiful, professional looking bird. I weigh them then use a label with the weight and date to cover the little hole over the breast and they go in the fridge for 48 hours. After that, they go in the freezer. Our biggest bird this year was 6.7 pounds and the smallest was 5.15. Not bad.

I always part out a few birds instead of freezing them whole. This makes it a lot easier to make meals with as we don’t always roast them. Wings are separated, thighs and legs go in a bag for frying and breasts are individually wrapped and frozen. There are still a few of the Red Rangers or Freedom Rangers to process, but they are not yet ready. They will be parted out for frying and a couple of them will be canned. There will also be a few culls from the laying hens that will be canned as well. These are great for using in casseroles, quesadillas, BBQ sandwiches and other things where shredded chicken is good.

The left over carcasses and feet will be used for stock. The feet will be cleaned by scalding and removing the ‘socks’ and nails. The best stock in the world is made with feet because of all the good chondroitin and glucosamine in it. Once chilled, it becomes a beautiful golden gelatin. This gets canned and put in the pantry. Not much is wasted. Blood goes in the compost pile and feathers go to the dump. I haven’t yet found a use for wet chicken feathers and they take too long to break down in the compost. That is all that is wasted.

The 23 birds we have done so far have produced over 120 lb of meat for us. In addition to that, nothing tastes better than pastured poultry...except maybe pastured lamb...or raw milk and butter from grass fed cows...well...its good stuff, to say the least. If you ever get a chance, try it!

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Randomness

Record heat. Thomas the turkey squats in the shade panting, his wings held away from his body and his feathers poofed forward to allow airflow. SushiMoo hides in the shade of Emma’s tent with the laying hens and guineas and the sheep and EmmaLou are nowhere to be found. They have likely found a suitable spot somewhere in the big pasture, where there is still cool water running thru the ditches and tall wet grass that will help to cool them.

The ‘polar bears’ come in the house where it’s cool. They work hard all night and deserve a comfortable place to sleep and regroup before heading out again tonight. I have to just assume the sheep will be safe from predators in this oppressive heat. Nothing seems to want to move much.

We use the hose to water down all the shady spots around the chicken pen so they can be a little bit cooler. The garden has been getting soaked heavily at night to try and cope with the high temperatures, but still wilts. It has an unquenchable thirst so I use what strength I have to fill a wheelbarrow with straw from Sushi's tent and carefully spread it as a mulch to keep the soil cooler and the moisture in. It’s gonna be  rough week on everything. The snow on the Steens is almost gone and it’s barely July. It normally lasts all year. At least, along with the heat, come the blooms of summer. Sunflower, cosmos, petunia, marigold, hollyhock and zinnias. The roses are so heavy the canes bow nearly to the ground from the weight of them. A yellow trumpet vine scampers over the wall, it's blooms inviting the rare hummingbird to partake of its presence. Honeysuckle hugs the archway into the garden with gorgeous salmoney-red blooms beckoning to me. The weeds have been making a stand as well. They have been winning the battles this year, but I have yet to give up on the war.

It is nearly time to process the meatie chickens. They are getting heavy and won’t live much longer on their own. I worry about the heat affecting them, but so far they seem to be content under the raspberry bushes where it remains wet most of the day from the nighttime watering. They are still running around and happy though so I will give them a bit longer. The day will come when they aren’t so enthusiastic with life and then it will be time to process them.

We headed to town for my doctor visit and ran a couple errands. The last trip we dropped off "Upchuck" the steer at the butcher. While I am being treated, Randy drove to pick him up. It was 110 degrees! He purchased some dry ice and packed over 600 lb of frozen beef into the coolers. We got home at midnight and the Maremmas are so happy they can’t stand it. We were gone only 18 hours and they acted as if they were sure they’d never see us again. We do this every few months. It’s nice to be loved. I pack away the meat and hand off the dog bones to the boys, who run out back and happily gnaw away while babysitting the sheep.

A thunderstorm moves in late at night and there is a loud thump at the door. I sleepily get up to open it and Cletapotamus charges into the house. Thunder is not his thing. Neither are gunshots. Poor guy, there is a lot of both on this ranch. He settles in and we go back to sleep, regrouping for tomorrow. There is much to do. Boredom is not a word that is employed here. I have house cleaning, cooking, baking, soapmaking, sewing, gardening, and the animals to take care of. There is no time or space for boredom. 

Today I picked two quarts each of strawberries and raspberries. Pavlova for dessert. Steaks on the grill, corn on the cob heating up. It’s a meal fit for a king and Upchuck clearly is serving his purpose well. It’s comforting to know our animals live happy lives and when the end comes, it is as quick, painless and humane as possible, instead of suffering lingering illness and agony, or worse, attack by predators. Living in chronic pain myself, I can appreciate both their end and their purpose. People often question how we can eat meat we raised ourselves. If they could see how their own food lived and died they’d understand. They wouldn’t support commercially raised meat or methods anymore. It's almost enough to make you lose your appetite.

I take a round out of the cheesecave. It is a very sharp cheddar. A bit on the dry side but I think it will be excellent melted in a dish such as homemade mac and cheese or a sauce. The flavor is good. Finally, the hard cheeses are starting to turn out well...just in time for the cow to go dry. At least next summer I can produce what we need again, God willing that I should still be functional.

Good days are hit and miss. There is much I want to do. I have lots of special visitors coming this summer and hope to make everything ready and welcome, easier said than done these days. With no milking to do, it leaves more time, but not more resources. Nonetheless, I trust it will get done in time, even if just. I raise a cup and toast my newest list. Accomplishment is sweet on the tongue. Grace and good days are ahead, may we all cherish them.

C'est La Vie

It has been a month of ups and downs, which I guess is fairly typical of life these days. The grass is a soft emerald green, red and white climbing roses are intertwined on the rock wall, butterflies waft lazily along the currents to land on brightly colored blooms, looking for nectar. Most of the hummingbirds have moved on, as they don’t stay here in this valley, but merely stop in, during their migration north. In 24 hours I went from filling their feeder 3x a day to not needing to fill it at all. Only one little hanger-on stops by for a sip now and then. He’s a welcome sight, even if  he lacks the colorful brilliance of his cousins who visited me in California.

Pain has been a frequent companion, so the weeds have gotten ahead of me. I was doing so well and had a handle on the garden but pain pretty much became an obstacle impossible to overcome. Nevertheless, I did get the corn in and it’s peeking out of the soil now, potatoes are needing to be covered and there are plenty of peppers on the jalapeno plants. Cider sat down on the big tomatillo plant I have been babying since March and snapped it off at the base, so although I put in two more, they are much smaller and probably won’t have time for fruit to mature this year.

I am making some progress with the rest of the yard, as far as flowers and plants go. It's so nice to have something that makes my eyes and soul happy to gaze at, instead of dirt and thistle. The boss' wife is extremely talented and has made their home a little Eden with parklike lawns and flowers, shrubs and trees of all kinds, surrounding the houses, an oasis in the high desert. She would drive the backhoe building burms and moving enormous rocks to anchor everything. As one afflicted with  "tractorphobia", I go about armed with a shovel and a wheelbarrow. Eventually, I will succeed in doing my part on ranch beautification.

Em is being treated for an infection so we have no dairy. No milk, no cream, no sour cream, ice cream, cream cheese, yogurt...she contributes so much. We picked up two lambs from the butcher and a steer is being processed as we speak. I've been trying to make more room in the freezers before we bring him home. I canned some of the best beef stock of my life, as well as several quarts of chicken stock. More 'mexi-meat' and ' beef dip' went on the shelves as they have been so handy and are among our favorites, even in summer. I made a couple batches of jerky that were well recieved, and a couple that I incinerated but make great treats for the dogs. Nothing wasted here.

The meatie chickens were doing well, happy and very healthy, and I was thrilled that in 5 weeks I have not lost even one to heart or leg problems. They were active and thriving, until an owl decided to interfere. Bruno was guarding from outside the pen when the owl beheaded two chicks one night. I put Bruno INSIDE the pen, and 10 chicks went totally missing. We eventually found a couple of little bodies outside the electric fence. The following night I moved all the chickens into the lambing shed, far beyond the other side of the pasture. Five chicks refused to come, so we waited for dusk when they would roost to capture them. We were too late. As we were opening the gate, the owl swooped down and snatched the last of them. I was amazed at how incredibly fast and silent this killer was. Cletus was trying hard to catch it but this bird was too quick, and too stealthy for the dogs to compete with. There is a family of owls in the barn next to the house and this is "Owl Central", multiple kinds from Great Horned Owls on down to the smaller barn owls. The dogs have always been successful keeping them out of the yard, but there are lots of places for the chicks to hide in here and the owls can only approach from one direction, giving the dogs the advantage in security. Not so in the orchard where the owl can just sit in the tree and wait for the dog to move out of his way before swooping down and nabbing a chicken, with no danger of being caught.
 I’ll have to bring the survivors back into the yard and lock them in the lambing shed at night. The good news is, they don't care. They just like to eat. 
I have lost 40% of my flock. That is upsetting.

The boss (someone we really appreciate, because he and his family treat us like we are family too) sent another bull to woo EmmaLou. He’s not a very friendly hunk of bovine though.  As Randyman was trying to move Em thru the gate, the bull, whom I will refer to as Kamikaze,  clobbered him. Reports say the bull launched him 10 feet into the air and he came down hard on the rocks. At that point the beast was satisfied and left him alone, in lieu of crushing him with his head. It could have been much more serious, as even very experienced cowmen are frequently killed by these unpredictable and hormonal animals that weight in excess of 1000 lb of pure raging muscle. They intimidate me if I am not horseback. Randyman does everything on foot, usually with adequate caution. Not this time. I am grateful his life was spared and he sustained no injuries more serious than a badly bruised posterior and damaged pride, although the latter is insignificant because he is a very humble man.

He says he currently has “buns of steel’ as his ‘cheeks’ are badly bruised, swollen and hard. They are even the steely blue-black of a gun barrel. 

I would think he has buns of lead and aluminum, but who am I to say?

Initially, the Maremmas did not want Kamikaze near EmmaLou as they know he is not MY bull. After a bit of convincing that he was indeed, a guest of hers, they escorted him over and left him alone. They've clearly not been happy with the couple's behavior so far, however.

There are only 4 bottle calves this year so far, which is fortunate for me as I struggle to get their bottles out there twice a day to feed them, dragging the heavy wagon. I am grateful to have them all behind a panel with the bottle rack Randyman bult me last year, to avoid the bumps and bruises that come from their abuse. They are cute for the first 3 days then they become aggressive, and for someone like me, kinda risky, even. This year they are all getting eartags and a file so I can keep track of who has had what, as far as veterinary care. Last year found several getting sick. We pulled them all through but it was tough. This year, I lost one in 24 hours from renal failure, and Beastly,the next calf to come in, (and the calf who sprained my back) had to be fed by stomach tube for several days before we got her to take a bottle. They are all doing well at the moment.

On the days I have enough mobility, I am again trying to tame down SushiMoo. She is just not a people friendly cow, but luckily she is greedy, so day by day, I lure her into the stanchion with grain. We haven’t made it all the way yet, but at least she is becoming consistent about responding to her name and following me. Once I can get her locked in the headgate, I can start to brush her and show her that it’s a happy thing to be touched and handled. She has carefully taken inventory of everything on the way in, and is very aware of changes. She’s too smart for my own good.

My 5 Jersey Giant chicks are finally out of the brooder and hanging out with the flock, learning to forage. The guineas took them under their wings, figuratively speaking, which I thought was pretty magnanimous of them. So Thomas, the guineas, and all the regular chickens have their routines now. They love hanging out in EmmaLou's wintertime tent during the day. I hope these new birds don’t fly over fences as I am tired of chasing laying hens out of the yard, and I wish they were tired of being pinged with BB’s from my little air gun. They seem to figure the destruction of my plants is worth the bruise.

Only once recently, was I able to bring Mister in to ride him. It’s the best therapy for me, as it gently stretches muscles and flexes joints without impact. I usually feel energized and more flexible after riding and the more I do, the greater my physical improvement. Randyman even noticed. Unfortunately, most days I cannot make it down to his pasture and back to get my horses, or lift a saddle and there is no one to help. That is a very frustrating situation for me, when I spent my whole life throwing saddles on colts and riding all day long.

I head back to the hospital in early July for 3rd infusion. Maybe this time it will make a difference and I can get back to life again. It would be great to have all my challenges set aside for awhile. I have some really great days in between the bad ones at least. I miss riding after cows and spending the day out on the hundreds of thousands of acres of range across the ranch. I won’t count it out...not yet.

Meanwhile, this is as good a place as any, to do anything or nothing at all.

A Feast for the Eyes

"When weeding, the best way to make sure you are removing a weed and not a valuable plant is to pull on it.  If it comes out of the ground easily, it is a valuable plant."~unknown

It’s an astonishing morning. After days and days of dreary gloom and drizzle, the sun came up this morning to a breathtaking array of colors.  The cobalt, powder blue, burgundy&cream and butter yellow iris all stand high above the boulder in the back yard surrounded by sky blue flax. The pansies in my water trough/planters are now peeking above the rim with the white alyssum and bacopa starting their spill over the side. The shrubs and creepers against the rock wall stand out in contrasting hues from wine colored barberry to lime green trumpet vine. The smell of newly  mowed lawn wafts around my head as the hummingbirds zip in and out around their feeder on the end of the porch.

Even the most simple of combinations make me happy when they are in a pot or basket. There is something special that flowers do.

 Beyond, I can see Thomas, his bright white feathers setting off the red, buff and purple blacks of the laying hens. Buffy struts around proudly, in motherly fashion around her lone chick.

The sheep are grazing in the corral with the Maremmas laying about keeping an eye on all and the seedlings in the vegetable garden are stretching and muscling their way up toward the sun and out across the ground with a promise for tomorrow.

I prepare to put bread in the oven and make some notations of additional seeds I want to buy to start in the greenhouse for next summer. Iceland poppies and petunias are two I would like to get established earlier next year than this. It’s a good day to be alive.

Still recovering from over 2 weeks of being incapacitated with a back injury, I try to keep my bucket list small. Having mowed the lawn already, I add weeding around the corner of the house so my morning glories don’t get choked out before they have a chance to take hold. 

We moved the meatie chickens out of the brooder. They have outgrown it in just 3 weeks. There was hardly room for them to move around in there anymore. We put up a "Club Meatie" with 6000 sq feet of pasture and a 120 sq ft of shelter for them in the orchard. Bruno is currently living with them to provide security from any hawks or owls who may think of making a quick meal of them day or night.

 There are tomatoes and peppers, potatoes and cabbage, brocolli, lettuce and cauliflower up in the garden and the corn and green beans go in this week. Two lambs are ready to come home from freezer camp, a steer is on his way in and the chickens will be ready to process this summer.

Nourishment for our bodies is pretty much assured, but for now, I will continue to marvel at creation, and revel in the flowers and let them feed my soul.

Workin' Like A Dog

The Maremmas are responsible for keeping ALL my animals safe, in multiple locations. It’s an awfully difficult assignment, but so far, they have been successful. They accompany me each time I feed the 56 chicks in the milk room and look in the brooder to familiarize themselves with the little critters. They  stand by while I feed the leppie calf and then position themselves for the rest of the day where they can see the sheep in the lower pasture, the chickens who roam the upper pastures, our yard (which would mean "me"), EmmaLouMoo and Mister, my Paint horse, in the south pasture. Nothing gets past them very easily and if someone or something new comes by, they wind up out front, checking things out.

I finally turned out the little guinea birds with the chickens. They seemed to be smart enough to stick close to the rooster for the most part, but if they get to lagging behind they tend to wind up trapped or lost somehow as they are not smart enough to walk AROUND  a gate, or to the END of a fence line to get to the other side where their friends are and tend to panic. I do like how they flock up though, traveling as a little pod. They are a little noisy, very flighty and erratic in their movements and of course, they have been locked in a small brooder for weeks so the Polarbears, aka BWDs (big white dogs) have not really seen them, because they were not in the milkroom brooder with the rest of the chicks.

Randyman and I were working on putting up a fence for the rams and noticed only 4 of the 5 guineas were around. Soon after, I headed off to find something and he went to the pasture and saw that Cletapotamus had a dead guinea between his front feet. Now this could well have not been Cletus' fault. It IS possible that a hawk or something originally nailed the guinea as it was headless. Cletus never did kill a chicken outright as a pup, but would pin it and lick it naked until it died of shock, but this bird, he was being very possessive of. Randy came and told me.  I asked if he had taken it away to inspect it. He said “No, he was growling at me and wouldn’t let me near”.

Well, I know Cletus very well and the dogs respond to me and but not so much anyone else. Cletus is VERY vocal and always has been. He moans, he grumbles, he howls. It’s all bluff, but I would never want anyone besides myself to test that theory and I don't blame Randyman one bit for not following through with taking the bird and disciplining the Potamus, who has the size to do a considerable amount of damage to a person, but that really isn't his temperament. He's 'all bark and no bite' so to speak. 

I approached Cletus and he grabbed up the bird while making loud, throaty growls that were admittedly pretty blood curdling.   Being possessive and guarding something from ME is a bad decision, no matter how the bird got killed. I suspect he was the culprit, however. I told him the bird was NOT his and he was NOT to grab any more of them. His growling became even more aggressive so I grabbed him by his scruff and gave him “what for”, while taking the bird away from him. I then showed it to him, said "NO" again, popped him across the muzzle with it, with another resounding “NO” and marched to the back yard. First he looked surprised, then he groveled submissively, clearly mortified by my behavior toward him, but still he continued looking for the bird, as he slowly followed my path, sniffing around, hoping to find and consume it. I gave the bird to Cider to enjoy and ignored Cletus, who I then locked in the lambing shed by himself for the afternoon, to let the whole experience sink in. It was easy to see, later, that he was, indeed repentant. 

However, unwilling to risk having him repeat his mistake, diminishing his effectiveness as a poultry guardian, I got the remote spray collar and fastened it to his neck. He was TOTALLY devastated. Nothing deflates these two dogs more than having to wear "THE COLLAR". He moved cautiously, head down, attempting to be  invisible and was thoroughly humiliated and humbled. 

These two are highly intelligent and very 'soft' dogs. Cider would have just wagged his tail and nabbed another bird in his enthusiasm over being free. I have found that my Maremmas learn faster than any breed I ever had, they just respond differently. Things like basic obedience and recall are not high on their list of priorities...mostly just things related to their job of guarding, but their relationship with me is still a high priority and it's obvious that my displeasure affects them deeply.

I really believe it was just too much of a challenge seeing these noisy, erratic little birds who were strangers to Cletus, running through my flock. It is also a strong possibility he didn't realize they were OUR additions as I had no opportunity to show them to him personally. These two are masters of discretion and can tell in the herd in the back, which are my cows and which are ranch cows. I know Cletus would not intentionally do anything wrong, as he is really a big, sweet clown. Since then, the guineas have been free to run by him, over him and under him and he pays them no more attention than any of the other poultry we have and they are now as safe as a bird could possibly be.

It’s amazing to me, that all these dogs have to do is understand something is OURS and they protect it with their lives, even against their own desire to capture and play with or dine on it. Their sense of honor is almost incomprehensible. We could learn much from their example.

It’s very hard for me to resist these two. Their eyes are very expressive. They communicate more through looks and body language than people can with a whole host of words. I don’t always understand what they are trying to tell me but they are most definitely telling me something, nearly all the time.

 One of the things I can read clearly, however, is the overwhelming power of affection they possess. If I am overwhelmed or in a lot of pain, it is a comfort just to walk into their presence. Bruno is my solid and dependable protector. Even from his spot in the pasture, he is always aware of where I am, what I am doing and is at my side instantly if something happens or someone new appears. When the kids come to visit he immediately takes the grandkids under his protection. His quiet strength and steady devotion give me courage on some of my darkest days.



(Watching over Abby, whom he sees only 3 days a year)

  Cletus has a way of always making me laugh at his antics and silliness, or of slithering over my lap so most of his weight remains on his hind legs while he ‘hugs’ me with his enormous head. It’s one of the best feelings in the world, second only to holding a child.

Much of their days are spent sparring and wrestling. It can be very intimidating to watch but it makes it easy to see these dogs were developed and equipped to repel wolves in the Italian Alps. The blood curdling roar, apparent viciousness and speed with which they take one another down is chilling, yet they have never drawn blood on one another. They have an uncanny ability to 'pull their punches' and I have witnessed Bruno do so many times when disciplining stock that tries to steal their dogfood or commit other such felonious offenses, never so much as leaving a mark. It looks 100x worse than it ever is, when used on 'friendlies'. I shudder to think what it would be like, however, to be a coyote or other predator foolish enough to  challenge them.

And yet, with their charges, they are incredibly gentle and longsuffering.

After 3 years of observing them, I am still amazed by their behaviors.  Each day I ride the 4 wheeler out to the pasture where Emmalou grazes and drive her to the milk room. Yesterday I was in a lot of pain due to aggravating an old back injury. The dogs, who always precede me and clear everything out of my path, this time ran far ahead to EmmaLou and attempted to bring her in themselves. Bruno ran behind her and pushed, Cletus was in front of her trying to coax her to follow. She has no respect for them so they were unable to garner her cooperation. Still, I was impressed by their attempt and it IS the thought that counts. When I  bring the sheep in, the dogs are pretty quick to pick up on that and lead them in before I have to drive them, as the sheep willingly follow them. 

It would be nice to have an actual herding dog to send after Emma, considering my physical limitations will increase.  
The four dogs we have now are really more than we ever planned on having, but Scottie (#4) sort of just got dumped here. Nevertheless, I have been putting thought into who will come to fill the incredible void Cider will leave here with his someday inevitable passing. 

My needs are certainly different than they were when my youngest son got him for me as a Christmas gift years ago. He was the perfect solution to my needs at that time. These days, however, I could use a dog that can help me with some of the chores and still be a service dog. Cider has been a champ about bringing me pillows or blankets when I am incapacitated, picking things up to hand them to me when I cannot bend down, or if I drop them, and other helpful tasks. Whoever must fill his pawprints needs to be able to learn those skills and some others as well, such as occasionally helping me up and doing a little light herding work.

I realize that is a pretty big order, but I know there is a breed out there that is perfect...and I believe, thanks to my readers, I have found it. Thank you all for your input!


There is nothing on earth, quite like a dog.