Going Forward

Annie the goat was being mean, mean, mean to the Captain, so she and her cohorts were removed to a different pen. The next day, I found her in the chicken pen, stealing their food. I hobbled out as quickly as I was able and grabbed her up. She had effectively climbed up her cattle panel shelter and used it as a springboard to launch herself into the next corral, where she was free to go where she pleased. Randyman and I moved the fence to prevent any further escape. Two days later, I found her and her friends this time, BACK in the chicken pen once again. I grabbed her up and noticed the gate to their pen was wide open. I shoved them in and made sure it was latched properly. The following morning..they were out once again. Annie had figured out how to open the latch by herself. The gate is now CHAINED securely. If that doesn’t work, my only other option is an armed security guard.

She managed to completely redesign the shelter. 

This is why we cannot have nice things...

It’s been an interminably long month. Storm fronts have brought longer lasting pain and agony and so far there is no relief in sight. I had begged Miss EmmaLouMoo to wait until after we went to town for my infusions to have her calf. She did. She waited until about 20 min after we left. Not only did she not get my drift, she apparently also did not get the memo that I wanted a heifer.

So...meet Ed-a-bull. He’s wild as a March hair but has Emma’s sweet face, big eyes and long thick lashes, whereas, his sister has a rather ugly mug. Who said life was fair?

Prior to this my sweet niece and her son came visiting. Bruno pretty much threw me under the bus and was making over Ky every chance he got, and The Captain did the same. We had fun rendering tallow, eating, playing board games, playing with sheeple, shooting, and watching Ky practice with his crossbow. It was a great weekend.

Em went into ketosis shortly after calving. That is a metabolic disorder in which the output of the cow is greater than the intake and puts them in starvation mode. It is what her mother died from and I have been desperately trying to save her. I loaded her up and ran her into town to the vet where she got a bottle of dextrose IV and brought her home with a gallon of propylene glycol, to administer should she relapse. She did magnificently well for a week, scarfing down her grain and eating her hay like a champ, then relapsed. Nothing seemed to work. I was drenching her with the PG, getting myself slung around the milk room doing it, but managed to get it down her. The vet told me to only give it twice a day for two days and no more. She’s been battling us for a week, but we may be on the winning side now. She’s been out in deep pasture with Ed, and coming in at night to eat hay and grain. 

I went out to check on her tonite for the first time in a few days (TheMan has had to take care of everyone for me lately as I have been unable to do so myself). Her bag was fairly tight so I went ahead and milked out the 2 rear quarters. That was 3 gallons. She seemed happy and went back out to nibble on dinner then go eat grass.

I've been having to use a cane everywhere I go, so I can get back to the house again as pain and weakness have been a constant companion since our last trip to town. It's been determined that the infusion has not been working. (duh). Mister was kind enough to pick up my cane that I dropped and hand it back to me. It's Cider's job to do that, but he ran off to shop for cow pies. It's nice to know someone else has my back.

By day I have rendered 100 lb of tallow for making Whipped Body Butter to sell in the online store , as it is my biggest selling item. I am finding this the best time of year for me to use it as my hands get dry and chapped from pulling weeds and gardening. There are an impressive lineup of handmade soaps to sell now, and anyone wishing to buy several bars of mix and match for discount need to e-mail me with your choices as the website hasn't given me an option for that.

I am still working on getting in fencing for the chickens and radio fencing to contain the dogs by day so they can protect the sheep. All in all, it's a pretty big order just trying to get a few things done.

There have been some major challenges this year, with much sadness. More death in the family, which seems to be becoming a regular occurrence, with almost no time to allow my heart to heal. I've also lost some animal friends. As I lean more heavily on my faith and carry on I am  making some  decisions about the future. Some of these include downsizing and making it easier to get through my days, and easier for TheMan to get through his when I am too incapacitated to do my part, which has been more often than not, lately. These changes include selling the goats, this year's lamb crop and Miss EmmaLouMoo. I am hoping and praying that SushiMoo will be the cow I really need, as she will be my last. Mister is now out with the ranch cavvy and I am praying he does all right, as he fares poorly in a herd situation and at his advanced age it could have serious consequences.

The grass is greening up, a few flowers are making their appearance. Lilacs, tulips, pansies are doing their best to cheer me and remind me of the promise of Easter. As our Lord defeated death and the empty tomb gives promise of new life, so does spring come to lift my spirits. Death and loss and sickness and grief are parts of life on earth and none of us can avoid them, but so is new birth, life, beauty and awe. To paraphrase the apostle Paul, I must remind myself to "Think on these things…"

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Shaken

We processed the meaties and took all the lambs to the sale, as I cannot shear them, so we have made the decision to find some lower maintenance Katahdin hair sheep. We shipped the goat kids as well, since they are so hard to fence in and were always breaking into everything and generally making my day very stressful. I gave away my mare because I can no longer ride colts. Our nephew sold my other horse for me, so I am down to just good old Wimpy. He should be able to accommodate my growing weakness. My strength has deteriorated considerably over the past couple of years.

 Dolly, my sweet , sweet Jersey cow, died today. We never even got back from the vet. Her prognosis was fair. I had done all the right things for her. I was to watch her for a few days. I am profoundly sad. My laptop died and my internet does not work. I feel as though I am being sequestered in my sorrow and pain. All the loss in my life, seems magnified today.

 My world has been shaken.

I am already missing Dolly’s little crooked face and the funny way she walked.

 

 

 Time and again she made me laugh, as she lolled her tongue and looked like she was singing. She’d let me go sit with her while she laid in the shade under the trees and loved to have her brisket and shoulders scratched. She would stand like a statue while I milked her, although she was never good about 'letting down'. She always held some back for the calves. She hadn’t always been good, but we had grown together and I was sad to dry her off last year, as my milking time with her had become such a pleasure. Her cream was heavenly. She loved the Fall, when the apples all fell from the trees. She couldn’t wait to vacuum them up.

 

 

 

She was mean to the dogs, always. She loved ‘her’ babies, it didn’t matter whose they were, she loved on them, and fed them sacrificially. She raised countless leppies in her short little life of only 5 years.  She doted on Mo, even more than she had Emma. I loved the soft moo she had just for him. It was so tender and loving, it stirred my heart everytime I  heard it. She and Em were constantly licking on each other, and Dolly was forever licking little Mo.

 

To the world, she was just a cow, but she brought so very much to my life. Many cold winter nights were spent in the barn pouring my heart out to her. Leaning my head into her warm flank while she gave up her milk, listening to her rhythmic chewing, the soft sweet, grassy smell of her breath in my face brought comfort when heartbreak visited and revisited. Seeing her hiding in her little ‘tent’, which she loved, belching in my face when I would sneak up to see her, making me laugh. It tickled me to see how she strutted around in her ‘prom dress’ last winter, I was surprised because I didn’t think a cow would accept wearing a blanket in the winter, but she could hardly wait for me to put it on her. She’d lick it and stuff her head through the neck hole, hurrying me along.

 

 

On my treks through the tall weeds with the dogs, she would always peek out from her hiding place to say hello. She passionately loved her food, her life and her calves. She was a happy cow and she made me happy too.

Because of her, I learned to make soap and butter, sour cream and cheeses. She was the impetus to so many of the things that now make up my life. All the things that have saved me from pain and myself since I’ve been forced to accept physical limitation and the gut wrenching loss that comes with it, all were gifts from her.

I prayed all winter she’d be pregnant. Once I was sure of it, I prayed her delivery would go smoothly. I was terrified to lose her to milk fever or some other horrible malady. I loved this little cow. I wasn’t prepared for ketosis. Not with all the feed we had here. Not with the way she loved to eat. I was being so careful. She looked so good. She went into this calving looking better than ever.   

Sweet Dolly would mother every hungry calf that came to her. She stood patiently while her calf Mo, as well as the orphan calf we had grafted on Emma and Emma herself and her calf sucked the life out of her. She loved them and nurtured them until it began to ravage her own body as she continued to produce even more milk for them,  unable to keep up with the calorie demands she and they placed on herself.

I separated them all when I found out, but she would grieve and refuse food…standing outside the fence crying for them.  I finally removed her and put little Mo in the pasture with her far from them, where she couldn’t see anyone else. It was too late. She couldn’t recover.

She lost weight at an alarming rate. Even with the green grass and alfalfa available to her and all the extras I brought daily, begging her to eat, she kept getting thinner and weaker. We raced her to the vet, hours away. They found nothing else wrong with her, just the ketosis that had taken hold. After tubing her with a solution that would help energize her and turn the ketosis around, as the molasses had done in the past, we headed home, planning how we would best situate her to get her back on her feet. I was hopeful and grateful and confident she would get better soon.

My greatest fear became reality. She’s gone. Her poor wasted little body is laying out in my horsetrailer, waiting for Randy to come with the tractor and take her away. Despite our greatest efforts, my cajoling, my begging, my forcing sustenance into her with a stomach tube when necessary, she starved herself to death. She barely made it home. She was down when we went to unload her, unable to lift her head. I sat with her awhile, crying, begging and with resignation and great sorrow, I left her to die as comfortably as she was able. We had put Mo in front of the trailer, where he couldn’t nurse her, but she could hear him. The last sounds I heard her make, she called softly to him.

I miss you Dolly. You enriched my life in ways I could never have dreamed. We will continue on as before, Emma, Willy, Mo and I, but you will be fondly remembered and sorely missed.

 

We are not promised tomorrow. Even when we are hurting, we can thank Him for the gifts. Yesterday
is gone, but we can still have forever. Thank You Lord, for Dolly.

We Will Remember Ewe

It was a beautiful morning this morning. Several inches of fresh snow blanketed the ranch and the valley floor. The mountain was invisible as the big white cloud completely obscured the view and snow was falling silently. The pups loved it. I felt pretty good, as we had gotten a shelter up for the sheep, the Jersey’s and the leppie calves. The goats were in the barn because they are very pregnant and they are sissys.

I made bottles and headed out to feed the calves, and throw hay to the sheep, while Randyman fed the cows for me. I never noticed who came to eat. The dogs came with me to feed the goats at the barn, and the horses down in the milk pasture.

Upon arriving back, I checked to make sure the animal shelters were dry inside and that was when I saw Ewe-ness.

She was clearly dead and lying on her side inside the shelter. Free Wooly was lying next to her, and Pet-ewe-nea was outside the shelter. The pups came in and when they saw her, they immediately began to lick her face. Surprisingly to me, we were all pretty upset. Ewe-ness was my personal favorite, as she was very friendly and used to follow me all over the pasture. Ranching and farming doesn’t give us immunity to the awful sadness that comes when an animal dies.

Not having a lot of experience with sheep, I could only assume she had bloated. There were no marks on her but she was clearly bloated in death, whether or not that was the cause of her passing. I attempted to move her, but was only able to drag her out of the shelter. Free Wooly stayed with her, as did the pups, who kept licking her face. Cider went to see what was happening and Bruno bared his teeth at him. I was very surprised at that, because the pups are normally submissive to Cider. I had to put collars on the pups and drag them out of the pen. Bruno attempted to run back to Ewe-ness through the back gate and I had to head him off and close that as well.

No one is on the ranch with me today that can help. Randyman is hours away checking the wells on the desert and the cowboys are out rescuing a cow/calf pair, so its just me and the dogs.

I never much cared for sheep, other than in the culinary sense, Ewe-ness and her buddy changed my attitude. They also love to eat weeds that I desperately want eradicated, which is a big plus. They have been very quiet, and easy to manage. Their personalities are winsome and I became pretty attached. 

I was concerned about how the pups might behave around a dead charge. Often LGD’s will eat the carcass of a dead charge to avoid attracting predators.  I didn’t want to encourage this kind behavior so I locked them on the other side of the corral fence. Normally they have full access to their charges, but tend to watch them from the comfort of our back porch. Today, they laid in the snow all day, to keep Ewe-ness in their direct line of vision. They guarded her body for nearly 6 hours, and wouldn’t allow anyone near her but me.

      

Randyman finally got home and we agreed Ewe-ness had to be taken out of the corral. He got his helper to assist loading her on a wagon, while I held the pups outside the corral. They left through another gate, while Cletus whined. After they were gone, I let the pups go and they ran and checked where Ewe-ness had been lying, and the shelter, and finally stared out the gate through which she had been taken. I guess they really are going to be Guardian Dogs. Until today, I had not realized how deep their attachment actually went.

Whatever it is they are thinking, they have been spending more time in the sheep corral tonite, with extra vigilance.

Ranching and farming is a wonderful way of life, but sometimes it can be very sad. Here’s hoping that Pet-ewe-nea will have lambs in the spring.

We will remember Ewe…ness.