New Life Old Farmers

Tucker, a border collie, is Our Friend the Farmer’s partner.  He has a mind of his own and as the Farmer says, “We go to work together”, but I’m pretty sure even after many years they are still trying to figure out who is the boss.  Tucker prefers to run to work, run at work and just run.  He runs the cattle, runs and runs and he can wear you out just watching him.

Our Friend the Farmer has been getting a lot of ‘help’ this calving season.  I figured if I started to write about Tucker, you would all consider this a ‘dog’ post, not another ‘cow’ post.

Last Sunday is annually a day that is very difficult for us to get through.  This year it was relaxing, wonderful and fun, we almost didn’t miss our beloved football season.  We’d issued last-minute invitations to Our Friend the Farmer and My Sweet Girl Friend to come for breakfast after church.  The weather was beautiful, the food yummy and we had ideas and plans we wanted to run by them both.  We were determined to get our taxes handled as soon as they left…but then we were told there were calves being born… so of course off we went.  We knew which cow was calving and it was a long way off, which was just fine with The Teen as she wanted to see it, but not seeing it up close and personal was good with her.  We diligently keep our eyes trained on the birthing cow, doing such a great job at this that we completely  missed another cow calving just 30 feet away.  (Hey, sometimes it just happens fast!)  So before we knew it there were two little calves in the field and all looked well.

It was time to feed the cattle which is a two-man operation.  Weekends the Farmer’s Top Man is off so he needs someone to help drive the flat-bed through the field.  I offered to help and as I’d seen his 10-year-old grandson do it the day before, I was pretty confident that I could tackle it.  The fun part is that Our Friend the Farmer just sort of hops out of the truck while it is still going and then the driver slides into position to drive around the field as he throws hay off the back side.  The Teen and I had a great time, helping for real and driving up close and personal to all the cattle who were very happy to see us.

We are starting to get to know the cattle.  47 has a hurt leg and moves very slowly, 16 is my favorite as I like her markings and My Loving Spouse likes a tan-colored one that has already given birth to a tan-colored baby.  It use to be that if Our Friend the Farmer wanted to have a quick chat with us, he’d drive into our yard.  Now more than likely he checks on his cows and we are there, watching his cows as well.  The other day the wind was blowing hard and I was ‘cow watching’.  One of the cows (not 47) was scooting around the field on her back hoofs and her front knees.  Okay, so even I know this is not really normal cow walking.  I don’t like pestering the Farmer, but also, if something was wrong that he didn’t know about…well, that would be worse, so I called the cow ‘situation’ in.  It turns out he did know about that cow and the problem she was having and he explained to me what they’d done for her and that she’d feel better after she calved (for sure!)  He didn’t mind my bothering him, as even I am an extra pair of eyes on the calving situation and I was learning something new about farming, which I think he enjoys teaching.  Then I said, I’d also learned something new in this gale force wind today (although I was safely tucked away in the protection of my car), don’t ever stand down wind of a cow that is peeing!!  To which he laughingly replied, “You really are from California aren’t you?”  Yep!

It could just be the true weather pattern, or it could be us.  It has gotten beautiful and warm (48-52) in the valley.  Our wonderful cloud patterns are back in the sky.  The birds are singing and the flies are waking up (well, you can’t have everything).

Last year, when all the other squirrels were gathering nuts (or in this case fire wood) for the winter, we were cleaning barns,  dealing with new animals and enjoying a wedding.  We have been scrambling ever since it got cold.  How much I’ve learned about fire wood, might boggle my Southern Californian friends’ minds.  Willow – stinks, literally, it is very, very smelly wood and it doesn’t burn very hot (who knew), so of course we have plenty of that, but it is barely worth the effort of cutting, splitting and stacking it.  The spruce we took down was great and would have been even better, if we could have waited until next year to burn it, but in the effort to stay warm and thereby sane, into the stove it had to go.

My Loving Spouse has been worried about our having enough wood to get us through this cold season.  The great thing about having a good partner is, that you don’t both have to worry about everything.  Sometimes you can just let one of you worry and so in this wood procuring incident, I did.  Of course The Teen and I don’t do very ‘well’ when we are cold (freezing), so he was probably just protecting the sanity of his hearth and home.

There is fire wood one can buy.  All different woods (apple and tamarack), all different prices.  Some of the other ‘squirrels’ had even gone with fire wood permits into the forest and harvested downed trees for their winter wood.  However, we were again, doing other things… growing pumpkins, etc.  So, long story short (although whenever people say that phrase to me, I never believe it.. always more like.. long story, longer) we finally broke down and bought some expensive (which we’ve learned is all relative) wood.  We are sort of in love with this wood.  It burns HOT, it is easy to light and easy to split and it does NOT stink.  Also, we’ve got a LOT of it… so of course the weather has gotten warmer, you’re welcome Ellensburg.

All in all, it is okay.  This squirrel is finally ready!

After all is said and done, the little things are the big things, I think.

The Teen has had a job.  She is the videographer for the Ellensburg High School boys basketball team and as such is part of the team.  This has been great!  She’s gotten paid a bit, has something productive and age appropriate (we parents love that part) to do every weekend.  She’s even begun to understand basketball, so she finally has a sport she likes.

We root for the Bull Dogs and get updates on the scores from the one and only videographer.  The ‘Dawgs’ have had a good season, second in the league.  We do not understand what is next, what is ‘District’ or how this all works.  We do know that the coaches have been wonderful to her!  We do know that she was honored at the Senior night as part of the team and that this meant a LOT to her.  We were there, we were introduced as well and joined her at center court.

We’ve come a long way… it wasn’t all that long ago that I was instructed to ‘not embarrass her’ and unfortunately sometimes I was unable to even breath in air correctly.  However, at Senior night, she told us, “Thanks for looking nice” (which we didn’t… we just looked ‘regular’ only cleaner, which I guess is sort of nice).  “Oh, and you can act all lovey and hold my hand and hug me when they introduce me” and so we did.  We were touched by how much the recognition and acceptance meant to her.  It was good and so she cried, happy tears…

Because it is the little things that are the big things.

Go Dawgs!

I got ‘the’ call at 10:02 am yesterday morning.  My Loving Spouse informed me that Our Friend the Farmer had ‘cows calving all over the place’ and as I was anxious to see Mother Nature up close, I needed to stop working on our taxes and high tail it over to the Farmer’s field, which of course I did!

I was a little disappointed upon my arrival, as all I could see where a pack (whoops, a herd) of cows (big fat pregnant cows) standing around breathing out steam.  I was sure I’d missed it again.  Luckily, Our Friend the Farmer came by and pointed out the cow that was mooing loudly, pawing the ground and shaking her head.  She was close to the fence, which was convenient for me as she was one of his more aggressive cows and I was instructed to ‘give her some space’.  Hmm, yes, no problem.  Trust me, the last thing I wanted to do was to tick off an aggressive 1000 lb. cow in labor, which as we know, labor sucks and if there was a simpler way to have kids, we mothers would have figured it out a very long time ago.  So, I watched her get up and down, walk around and moo.  The Farmer went to get hay.

I will refrain from being graphic, but let me just say, that ‘things progressed quickly with the cow’, as evidenced by the sack starting to come out her back-end.  Our Friend the Farmer came back in his truck with a load of hay for the cattle in the next field.  At this point I was elevated to ‘official calf birthing watcher’ and received my instructions.  “The feet/hoofs need to come out together and pointed down.  If they are any other way, the calf could be breech or twisted etc.  After it is born the cow needs to start licking it and especially the head, to clear the sack off the calf’s nose so it can breath.”  I was then given the Farmer’s cell number and told to call if any of those things happen.

Then I commenced pacing… but far enough away to not upset the cow who was still trying to keep an eye on me, and close enough to see all the things I was now in charge of.  Out came what looked like a foot… luckily on the next contraction, it was a bit clearer that there were two feet/hoofs.  Phew.

And then plop…!!!  Out came this little sack of hot baby cow…calf.  Luckily, a warm day, no snow on the ground, but the ground still freezing at night, so not a lot of mud either.  Perfect calving conditions (see how much I am learning)!

Okay, ‘we’re’ out…now start licking…. which the cow did, but… not the head.  She was licking the baby and the baby was trying to get up and it was still in the sack and I’m telling the cow (in my head) come on… lick the head, lick the nose, lick the face… but the cow did not.  Another cow came by to help lick, but still no one was getting the baby’s nose clean and I was getting anxious.  This calf was not going down on my watch, so I called in the expert, Our Friend the Farmer, “SHE’S NOT LICKING THE FACE”… “Okay, I will be right down.”  Big sigh of relief from me, as the head was still not getting licked and I knew I couldn’t help. The cow didn’t trust me and could have hurt the baby more, if I’d even thought about going into the field let alone going near her calf.  Just as the farmer stopped his truck the cow licked the face and nose and the baby tried to stand up.

It was exactly 10:32 am when I called The Farmer…. every thing happened in 30 minutes, so fast!

I really like the cows… There is one cow that is just huge!  I am sure that she has twins….now that I’d really like to see!

I think we might be acclimatizing.  45 degrees feels warm!  The weather has turned beautiful again.  The grey days have passed through, if even for a while. Now the clouds are high and we can see the mountains and hills white with snow that surround our pretty valley.  The birds are singing.  There are so many of them and I enjoy hearing their different voices.

The wood fire is kept going, but without the same urgency as previously.  In fact, The Teen only has to bring in 1 load of wood in the morning before she cooks her breakfast of 3 fried eggs!  The same kid that I have spent 19 years trying to get protein into, eats our farm fresh eggs like they are manna from heaven.  Now we know what the farmers have known for a long time… fresh is better, much, much better.

The snow has melted off and there is a surprising amount of green grass about even if it is not actually growing, it is green none-the-less.  Green enough to encourage a site one does not want to see.  The other morning My Loving Spouse was brewing the morning coffee and I opened the window blind in our bedroom to see our yearling Dixie calmly nibbling on grass by the woodshed.  (In other words, THE HORSE HAD GOTTEN OUT!)  I loudly screamed for My Loving Spouse, who did not come running as he was getting the coffee and as he thought ‘it was just a mouse in the bedroom’.  (Let me specify, ‘a mouse in my bedroom IS a running to the rescue event’  just so we’re all clear here.)  I grabbed a robe and went running out of the bedroom, hollering his name again.  This time he did come running.  I stood before him eyes like saucers, my mouth open like a huge gaping hole unable to speak!  Finally, I waved my arms and stuttered… ‘Dixie is at the woodshed’!!!

He calmly handed me my coffee (good thinking) and said, “Let me get dressed….the last thing you do is run outside all excited, like you, to capture a way-ward horse”.  Mr. Calm (My Loving Spouse) put on some clothes, got some hay and took the girl back to where she belonged.  We then fed them a LOT of hay to keep them put for a while, as we fixed fences for the day.

Doing what we always do on our day off, which is never what we planned.

I had another great, NEW experience today!  I went on my first cattle drive.  The sun was out, and all was beautiful.  I may have only ‘driven’ in a truck, still that is driving and I was helpful.  After all, I opened one gate and stood on one wire fence for a horse that did not want to step over it.  I delivered one cup of hot chocolate and took a lot of pictures.  Sure, they could have probably moved the 300 cattle the 6 miles without me… still….   someone had to drive the trucks and trailers back to the ranch and that someone was…. The Preacher’s wife and I was the someone who kept her company.

Here is Our Friend the Rancher in charge of getting all the cattle out and the people organized.  Yes, he said, the people organizing was the hard part.

Loading up the team…

Cowboys and Cowgirls come in all sizes…

All types of mounts as well as this red mule..

A few hard-working dogs as well…

The horses and riders start pushing the cattle down the hill.

Grandma leads them and keeps them following her as she sits in the back of the pickup, singing a chant to the cows and throwing out hay.

Here they come…

We have been positioned to block a path with the truck and trailer to keep the cows on the right trail…

Then we fall in behind the ‘herd’ traveling down the highway.

Rest stop at the Big Pines rest stop, to water cows, people and horses.

One cow decides to go into the Yakima river and comes out with encouragement, only to get herself stuck in the muck up to her cow knees.  She is too tired to move and finally is left behind.  Our Friend the Rancher will return for her later when she has rested and is able to help get herself out of the muck.

A family event… son (5 years old), Dad and Grandpa…

A LOT of very happy pregnant cows glad to be home.

A yearly event… I’d like to help again next year… and as good as I was at  my job (keeping The Preacher’s Wife company), I would like to upgrade to Cowgirl.  That will mean both a lot more time in the saddle for me and a much bigger saddle for … well, you know.

I did get a very small job working with very small people.  I am a long-term substitute for the Developmental Pre-school 4 afternoons a week.  I only work for a few hours a day, so I am sort of embarrassed to call it a ‘job’, except I do have to remember to go and be nice to people, so I guess that qualifies.

Actually it is not that different from the farm..

Chaos – organized and a bit like herding cats.

Clothing – practical for being adorned with paint (yesterday’s color was orange), side-walk chalk and ground-in fish crackers.

Fencing – the area the children ride their bikes at play time is a corridor of sorts, so two teachers are the ‘fence’, keeping the little two-legged animals ‘inside’ the riding area.  I’m pretty good at fencing, so I have already excelled at this.

Messy- plenty of messes, some that the kids clean up and the others I often tackle and we all know how good I am with a mess.

Noisy – lots of loud crowing over achievements, which is exciting and fun.  Occasional head butting or righteous indignation when one little chick steals another chicks ‘nest’.

Attitude – being firm but loving, as with our horses and just acting like I know what I am doing.

Just another typical day at Glory Farm for me.  I cleaned up some animal poop, I went to watch a calf being born and I started a new job.

 Yep, regular life on the farm.

 Okay, so I missed the actual birth of the calf, as it went very quickly (probably not quick enough for the cow however), getting there just in time to watch the mom start licking her offspring to clean it up.

The licking went on for quite some time, interspersed with looks over at me from the new mom.

Our Friend the Farmer had alerted me that this cow was calving and had pointed me down the road.  I stayed outside the fence to be polite and because the last thing I wanted was to tick off a 1200 lb. protective maternal cow with postpartum.  I  stood by taking pictures and waiting for the little guy to get on his legs and it was really pretty neat.

There was lots of maternal licking…

And he is up for a second….

And then the front legs go down…

And then the back legs go down….

So he tries again…

But after 40 minutes the little guy was not getting the whole ‘getting up’ together.  As official calf watcher, I was getting quite cold.  Luckily for us both, Our Friend the Farmer came back to check on the ‘getting up progress’.  The problem he explained to me was that the cow had the calf where the snow was deeper making the calf’s footing that much slicker.  The more the calf rolled around in the snow the colder it was going to become, which was not good.  The Farmer and his Top Man were going to give it some help and move it to steadier ground.  I was lucky enough to hop on to the back of the truck and get a front row seat on the action.

Into the deeper snow Our Friend the Farmer goes and  grabs the calf by the hoof (not foot, as My Loving ‘Proof-reader’ informed me).  I don’t think the mother cow was too keen on this, but she probably trusts the farmer as part of the herd.  After all, he brings her food everyday and he was carrying a big stick, his trusty shovel.

Baby calf gets a gentle ‘drag’ to less snowy ground, followed closely by Mama.

Okay, let’s do this thing…

The Farmer takes hold of the calf’s tail and gets it standing on his feet, giving him a bit of time to steady himself.

And he is up!!!

Not too steady, but up…

He’ll get warmer quicker up on his feet and out of the thick snow.

Mommmmmmmmm!!!

Then the oddest thing happened.  I had been watching the cows for about 45 minutes.  The mother and baby were off by themselves and the herd was calming doing what cows do… eating and pooping, but they all stayed away from the two-some.  Except, after the baby was up and we were leaving in the truck, all the cows came over surrounding the new mom and calf.   It was almost as if the signal had gone out that said, Mother and baby are out, time to extend our welcome.   I could just almost hear the cows saying, “Oh, Daisy, what a nice little calf you’ve got there!”  Then there was probably a lot of cow ‘sighing’ as they are all pregnant and their time is coming, so I will have another shot at catching a live calving.

We made bangers (sausages) and I don’t mean the royal ‘we’, which we all know means ‘you’.  Like ‘we’ need to change the oil in the car or ‘we’ need to wash more socks.  No, this was the real we,  as in My Loving Spouse and I.  It is handy to actually have an Englishman to help you make English sausage, but not completely necessary.  However, our Englishman was in charge of the recipe, locking in the meat grinder and procuring all the ingredients, so he was/is a pretty handy fellow.

Casings for the sausage to fill are a vital necessity.  Once again proving that you can find anything on the internet.

Out comes Granny’s scale to weigh the pork (5 pounds 1 ounce) and adjust the recipe accordingly.

One loaf of cheap bread toasted, then I was the official ‘grinder’ dissolving it into bread crumbs.  As this was how my mother made meat loaf, I was a well-trained crank turner.

The pork and spices were also given a good run through the grinder along with the bread crumbs.

Getting the casings ready to be stuffed took some work as one must run water through them.  The best way is to attach them directly to the faucet, pretty much like filling water balloons.  So again, we are a somewhat well-trained team.

Sliding the casings onto the sausage stuffer.  I might say the casings seemed a bit slimy, but I won’t, as I have kids that often read this and  I want them to eat these sausages.

More cranking….sausage meat gets loaded into casings.

One happy Englishman with a pile of bangers.