Introducing the ducklings

OK, sorry to keep you waiting after such exciting news.  There just wasn't much to see last night, only caught a glimpse of one little fuzzy duckling head, and the mom and dad quickly warned it to get back under mama duck's wing.  (See photos in the Picasa web album below) The dad is so attentive, it's truly an example of the God-ordained role of a dad taking fierce care of mom and family.    As our heads bent too close over the nest, straining to see anything, he was right there, waiting for the opportunity to peck at us or at the camera or at whatever got too close to his little family.  He kept reaching under mama duck with his bill, and once, when the little curious one popped his head up, I could see what papa was doing.  He touched his bill to the baby's bill, as if to communicate by way of a little nibbling motion, bill to bill.  So, today, after being worried all of last night about their well-being, we were able to check things out again.  Jeremy and I went out, and I kept Bessie waiting....and waiting.....as we gazed in at the little ducklings that were just too curious to keep under the safety of Mom's wing. There are 7 so far, at least what we could see.  That leaves 6 more eggs in the nest.  Mama had no intention of leaving the nest, so I'm thinking that more will still hatch.  The last egg wasn't laid until March 7 or so, which could put the last one hatching in the middle of next week.  We'll see. They aren't solid black, but have tufty creamy-colored breasts.  Their bills are shiny black, and they are absolutely adorable.  We could eventually see all 7, poking up in one fluffy mass, nibbling the hay around them, nibbling mama's wing feathers, looking at us and the shiny camera.  Dad duck was fussing around the whole time, and was definitely not happy when a chicken dared to hop into the small fenced area that I set up for them.  The cat knew better, and leaped completely OVER the small fenced set-up, to avoid the papa duck. By Easter, they should be free to follow Mom and Dad anywhere in the barn or in the yard, but I just want to play it safe for now with a small fence to keep them safe, and to keep the nosy chickens out.  You are invited to view Laura's photo album: 2012 03 Ducklings hatch 2012 03 Ducklings hatch Mar 30, 2012 by Laura View Album Play slideshow If you are having problems viewing this email, copy and paste the following into your browser: https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=dykstrazoo1&target=ALBUM&id=5726155744668205281&authkey=Gv1sRgCIKz4eS77-6f7gE&feat=email To share your photos or receive notification when your friends share photos, get your own free Picasa Web Albums account. Laura.

THE BABY DUCKS ARE HATCHING!!!!! More details and photos when I check it out more.  The papa duck was standing guard on top of the bale of hay, and the mama was up higher than usual.  3 little black heads showed up when I peeked in, and I had to share the news before I checked further.  Exciting!  ;)

The frolicking cows of the UK

Bessie and Lucy apparently aren't the only cows to act joyful and boisterous on the first beautiful day of spring..... Thanks to my little brother Marc for finding this and making sure to tell me that he never imagined that he'd see the day when a video like this one would make him think of me!  Sweet.....isn't it?  And since I didn't have anything original to send today, this will have to do. The youtube link was a little slow on my computer. I've also included the link to the original web-site, which is kind of a "compassion for farm animals" site.  Here are the two links for the same video.....watch for the "pendulous udders" and for what I'm learning is the universal "cow-attitude".  ;)  Enjoy!  http://www.ciwf.org.uk/farm_animals/cows/dairy_cows/dancing_cows.aspx http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=5KaltD0Z6ww (Not sure if these are Holsteins, or Friesian cows.  The US seems to typically cross or confuse the two into one breed that is now known as Holsteins, but Farmer Bob tells me that Friesians are better able to actually graze, and to do well at converting grass into milk.  The video is taken in the UK, so I'm guessing that they're Friesians.  Someone who knows better can feel free to let me know if I'm wrong, though.)

Barn cats?.....or are they "pets"? ;)

(Photos:  The main characters in today's story--Spartan (green eyes) and Charlie (orange eyes) They play as a team, they hunt in the cornfield as a team, they annoy Rocky as a team, they slink past annoyed cows as a team.....they come running for food as a team.....  Charlie and Spartan are twins in almost every way, except eye color and silkiness of their fur.  Spartan is so silky that his hair mats and he licks clumps of it out.  Charlie is more like a tiger, with raggedy, clumpy-looking fur and a bit of a furry ruff around his chin.  They were litter-mates stuck in a cage at an alpaca farm, having been dumped off at someone else's place and needing to be adopted.  After a quick "screening" by the "caretaker" who desperately wanted them to be taken, they were in my small cat-carrier and on their way to the farm. I take great care to call in all the cats every night.  We can hear coyotes in the field around us, or down by the subdivisions to the north or south of our little slice of country.  Sly comes into the house (lured by the promise of food), especially now, after 2 yowling stand-offs with what turned out to be another black cat.  Charlie and Spartan come running at milking time, to be fed and petted and maybe get a little cat-food can of milk AND to be closed in for the night.  Midnight never goes outside, and hardly ever comes up to the first floor of the house, so that one's easy.  I was explaining to our vet from Palatine "Charlie and Spartan are barn cats, so we need to do just the very basic care for them."  She dug a little further with just a few questions, and, on hearing that I call them in every night to keep them safe, she said (gently, but a little pointedly), "Laura, they are NOT barn cats if you call them in every night!" She's right--we worked hard to tame them when we first got them over a year ago, and I stop to pet them every time they come running up to me.  I make sure that they have cat food and don't have to completely fend for themselves.  The way "barn cats" were described to us when we first got Charlie and Spartan, they should be fending for themselves, scared of people somewhat, vaccinated and spayed/neutered only once as kittens IF they can be caught, never again to see a vet, with a rather short life-span.  We're "supposed" to supply fresh water, and not much else.  I think it will take many years of living out here, and many years of unexpected stray pregnant cats having multiple litters of kittens on our property for us to ever get to that point.  Cats have been pets for us for too many years!  Treating them like "barn cats" seems almost as bad as treating them like the pests that they are supposed to eliminate. Our barn cats will continue to get their rabies shots or whatever is absolutely necessary (or what we can afford!), so maybe they are somewhere in-between the traditional scruffy and sickly-looking farm cat and a pet.  The cats themselves have seemed to laugh at my feeble efforts to contain them at night.  Once before, they were out of the barn after I KNEW that I'd closed them in the night before.  There they were, running up to me first think in the morning, meowing to get back into the barn for food.  We had been exploring in a small off-to-the-side room in the 2nd floor of the barn the day before, and weren't able to get the door to the outside latched shut again.  The door was hanging open (on the second floor) and that's the only way the cats could have gotten out.  One cat was limping a bit, which proved it to me:  they had leaped out the open door and landed on the ground, far below, to go exploring that night. Ever since the weather has been warmer, they are outside EVERY SINGLE MORNING!!!  I close them in at night, and there they are outside the next morning, either at the back door waiting for me or streaking across the yard at top speed when they know they might get fed.  I was a bit worried that they'd found a way out through the siding of the barn, which would mean that a coon, or a rat, or a weasel, or a possum could get IN and take out large numbers of chickens in a big bloody mess (or, a coon could get in and wipe out the 13 eggs that the mama duck is so fiercely protecting).  But...there were no signs of the cats being able to get back in after letting themselves out, so that theory was out. Their escape plan was so obvious, but I couldn't put my finger on it until I really stopped to consider it--from inside the cow-pen. The cats stayed inside the barn until after the cows arrived in January.  The cows' barn-room has a second-floor door, which lets me throw down straw for fresh litter.  That door is always open now, because it wasn't on hinges and the wind just blows it down if we prop it up.  Jeff built the ladder from the main floor of their area up to that second floor door.  The cats had jumped down from there before, when they were mistakenly closed into the second-floor of the barn.  It had taken a lot of coaxing, but two little meowing kitties had looked pleadingly down at me, leaped down from that door-opening into the cow litter, to be let into the barn for their cat-food before I milked Bessie one cold night in February (Haha---maybe it was the one and ONLY cold night in February, the way the weather was this year!)  :)  Last night, I did the usual routine:  take the dogs out to let them run, walk to the barn (the cats come running), feed and water the chickens (cats meowing and anxious), fed the cats (they leap up onto a platform where I feed them so the chickens don't eat all their food), throw a bit of cat food onto the chicken-litter for the thundering horde of chickens (they don't go for their own food until I give them a little cat-food as a treat), then milk Bessie and get the cows set for the night.  I bring in the milk and get the dogs from the back acre, where (hopefully) Rocky has been tired out and will behave himself for the rest of the night.  By then, everyone is snug and settled and the only residents in the barn which are up and making noise are the papa duck and the little mama duck, both extremely agitated because she's off the nest and he's escorting her to the water and the food. Last night, the kitties had let themselves out of the barn within half an hour.  I went out to water the newly planted perennials, and there they were, friendly as ever and wanting to roll in the dust on the driveway.  This morning, I've already let them INTO the barn, and now one is already curled up on the front porch in the cozy chair---definitely not IN the barn.  I guess that whatever I try to do to keep them safe, they will be barn cats, despite my best intentions!  And sad as it might seem, they probably won't have long lives, but will cross the road at the wrong time, or run into the pack of coyotes out in the corn field, or get in a tangle with a coon or another cat.....  I guess the only thing to do is to take care of them, at the "basic" level, for as long as we have them,  with lots of love thrown in.  ;) Happy Thursday, everyone! Laura. .

Back to "normal" (whatever THAT is!)

(Photos:  Lucy enjoying the sunset a few weeks ago, and Cayuga duck eggs in a nest) The good shepherd returns..... It was before 2 AM, and I kept having strange dreams about Friesian horses running wild in buildings, Friesian horses getting loose from paddocks, Friesian horsed getting really sick and lying flat out on the ground....  (Friesians are those big horses in war movies--really beautiful, muscular, with "feathers" on their feet and a gorgeous flowing gait.  They are also from the area of the Netherlands that Jeff's ancestors were from.  It is truly a "dream" to ever own one, but then, owning cows was only an idea for the longest time.) The horses in these dreams were enormous, even for big Friesian war-horses, bursting through fences, pulling past all restraint, very scary......  But the message to me was:  Check on your cows!  Strange, but that's what the half-asleep dreams materialized into being when I was wide awake.  It did occur to me that I didn't know which of the naughty cows had eaten the grain that was missing yesterday, and if it was LUCY and not Bessie, it could be a problem.  Bessie is used to grain in smaller amounts, but Lucy only gets the few grains that don't fall out of the bucket and into Bessie's trough for milking time. Lucy had seemed a bit subdued when I milked Bess the night before, and if (!) she had gotten the grain, she might be in trouble.  I had been worried about Bessie, who seemed fine last night. So, at 1:55 in the morning, (ugh!!!  I thought I was done with the midnight-feeding style stuff!)I put on the muck boots and pulled on a jacket, grabbed a flashlight and went out to the barn.  There were no cows in the barn-room that they usually sleep in, so my sleepy brain was feeling just a little panicky, until I remembered that they like to sleep outside when it's milder weather. Bessie was standing up in the cow-pen (better than sleeping with her udder in manure!), and Lucy was lying down around the side of the silo.  Both looked at me as if to say "And what are YOU doing out here in the middle of the night?!!!"  Seeing that their cow-attitude was firmly in place, I wasn't worried anymore about Lucy's health, and could sleep again.  Jeff's snoring was a problem, but that's a whole other story..... We discovered that Rocky has a fondness for children.  Two friends came over today to have lunch with us.  The one friend has 2 daughters and a 1 1/2 year old little boy.  In past visits, we haven't let Rocky get close enough to even sniff the little boy, because Rocky was acting so crazed at the end of the leash that we didn't know what he'd do.  Today, with both friends here for an extended visit, Rocky calmed down and became his usual endearing self.  He was very interested in licking the toddler's face when they were on eye-level with each other, and was very good and friendly with all of the children.  Once Michael had held him back on the leash for a while, and after he had been sprayed with the water bottle for making the unsettling husky whines and howls because he was being restrained, he calmed right down and was a respectable citizen.  The second friend's daughter is almost Jeremy's age, and Rocky truly showed a calm and trustworthy side while the girl walked him all over the yard on the leash.  She loved him, and was giving him directions and talking to him the whole time.  Rocky calmly trotted along, clearly loving the attention, didn't pull at all (that I could see), didn't jump up, didn't act crazy, didn't try to take off to dig a hole somewhere...  He has some promise of being a good dog, after all!  ;)  (We knew that, but sometimes it's easy to lose sight of it in middle of all the puppy-ness that he's still going through). We've been experimenting with recipes for body wash (liquid soap) and shampoo, using an all-natural bar of castile soap and dissolving it into distilled water, with a bit of essential oil to give it a nice scent.  So far we've added too little water, and now too much water.  If we hit on a good ratio, I'll post it to the blog.  There are too many recipes out there with conflicting instructions, so we're taking the best of each and seeing what we come up with.  Jeremy did one batch of lemon scent, Michael did another with grapefruit scent, and mine is peppermint with a hint of lemon for shampoo.  We'll add some more grated soap to all 3 batches if it doesn't gel a bit more within the next 12 hours or so. Next on the list:  homemade liquid laundry soap, using Borax, washing soda, castile bar soap (again grated and dissolved in water) and distilled water.  Seems like a good experiment for spring break.....  We're not to the point of needing to make soap to save money, but it makes sense to spend as little as possible as we go with the most natural and time-tested soaps and cleaners as we can.  Maybe that's inspired by the old farmhouse, too, like the successful bread-making is!  ;) Time to gather the eggs and let the cows out for their daily afternoon grazing of the back acre..... Laura.

Bumbling Bovines......

(Thanks to Jeff, for the title idea!)  ;) The good shepherd failed today.  The cows got into the barn again--both of them.  This time I am certain that I closed the door and made sure it was latched after milking Bess.  Bessie had just been rubbing her chin on the door knob on the outside, so I took extra care to not leave it half-latched as I went through into the main barn.  It's just a sticky, old,  normal doorknob, doesn't turn so well, sometimes gets stuck, but Bessie managed to rub it just the right way to provide themselves with some unplanned excitement this afternoon (for them, not for me or the chickens or the ducks). They were standing in the dry ice-rink, on the south side of the barn when I found them.  To get there, they had taken the long route--through the barn, of course.  Past the bales of grass-hay which were stacked to bring in to them over the course of the next 2 weeks (the bales were no longer stacked).  Past the opened bales that were to be brought in to them tonight and tomorrow (they are picky--so I always cut open the twine on two bales at once and give them "flakes" from both bales in the morning and again--just a few--at night to pick their way through.)  The 2 open bales were strewn around on the floor, with not much eaten (of course not!  They had just had their fill of hay from BOTH bales while Bessie was milked and while I brushed them!!!  Silly cows.....)  Past the sacks of grain from the mill (yes, they helped themselves to what was on top, but luckily their noses can't force their way through a woven sack, so they got SOME but not a lot!)  Past the 8x8 PVC chick enclosures, where they lingered long enough to leave some cow-sized presents in the chicken-litter outside the chick-areas and a big wet spot on the plywood covering the center dairy-aisle.  Past the pan of chicken feed, which was scattered on the floor (it was obvious that big noses had snuffled through it, but not much had been left from yesterday, anyway, so too bad for them.)  Around by the mama duck on her 13 eggs.  I wonder if they were worried at all when she puffed up all her feathers and did her best to look menacing?  More presents on the floor..... And then they had the south-side chicken area to maneuver through--pretty much a straight shot to the outside, but they did have to muscle their way through the double-wide sliding doors.  I had opened the doors just wide enough this morning before milking to get a decent breeze coming through (wide enough probably for Lucy), but the door was off its track just enough that I knew that Bessie had pushed until she got through.  Aaargh!!!  I was feeling like putting an ad on Craigslist right about then.  "Two wonderful cows.  You will love them!  Calm and gentle.  Come and get them today!" But....then it WAS a little humorous.  They saw me coming towards them with a white PVC pipe (somehow that strikes mortal terror in their hearts, more than a regular stick could ever accomplish).  Lucy stampeded towards where they could only SEE their usual pasture but not get to it through the electric chicken netting.  Bessie decided to run, too, with her big udder swinging back and forth and hitting her legs.  They stopped just short of an electric shock, and turned to look at me with wild-eyes (dramatized for the story--they were looking rather mild but curious).  After taking quick stock of what needed to happen without bringing them back through the barn or providing a show for the farmer across the field, I turned off the solar charger for the chicken-fence, laid the netting flat down on the ground, and poked Lucy in the shoulder with the PVC.  She leaped the 36" wide netting as if it would reach up and bite her, but Bessie happily trampled it as they both stampeded into their familiar territory.  The fun could have stopped there, but.....the reason I found out where the naughty cows were is that I was taking the dogs out for a mid-afternoon run in the back acre.  I was planning to let the cows out after the dogs had their exercise (because once the cows are out, the chickens follow.  Rocky canNOT be around the chickens!)  The dogs were loose and watching with great interest as the cows ran towards them. Running cows and excitable dogs don't mix.  Lucy and Rocky seemed to be playing, but Bessie and Shadow had a face-off going on.  Shadow would not stop barking, and Bessie was very annoyed by a rude dog barking and following her.  Rocky was lucky that Lucy didn't playfully buck her back legs right into his jaw.  Shadow was lucky that Bessie always stopped just short of head-butting her.  Once Shadow was on her leash, it calmed down a bit, but I still had to wait for Rocky and Lucy to stop playing.  It was like watching Rocky bait and tease Shadow every time they are out, until Shadow has to take action and  run him down out of sheer frustration and indignant anger.  The same with Lucy.  Lucy seemed to WANT to go a little crazy, but when she did, Rocky tucked his tail and did his usual maneuvers, which means scraping under low-lying branches and running between close-together trees to lose Shadow (or Lucy in this case). Finally the not-so-good shepherd got everything back in order.  I set about to put some heavy-duty hooks or eyes or rope or boards or even bungee-cords in place to keep that door shut, and finally decided to just use the dead-bolt, which was already  built in.  (There was a good reason for not locking it before--because I always want to leave an escape if I need to get away from an angry cow.....but now there is a sturdy ladder in place, and that door really needs to be locked to prevent the potential catastrophe of cows eating a whole bag of grain.) We are relaxing with a bowl of really cheap ice cream but very good chocolate fudge.  I'm feeling much better after having worked out my cow-caused frustrations by cleaning out old chicken litter and putting down fresh barn-lime and new straw in a quarter of the first floor of the barn.  The cows are not getting into the barn unless they can figure out a way to break through a dead-bolt.  And I'm past putting that ad on Craigslist, for now anyway, and will make them look pretty for company tomorrow..... Sigh....!  I'll just double-check on them tonight to make sure they're both feeling OK after their exciting day. Laura. PS.  Judi, I had the wrong address for you.  Sorry to keep you waiting.

Flycatching dogs

(Photos:  Shadow and baby Rocky, back in September, and Bessie during her beauty treatment in January) Both dogs are flycatchers now.  Shadow has always chased flies through the house, smashing them against windows, leaping into the air as they buzz higher than her head, watching at the corner of the counter or at the edge of the table to get them as soon as they are within reach, snapping them up off the window screens at the back door by smushing her nose up against them........  If you pull the wing off of a fly and put it on the floor, she will gladly and almost feverishly attack it and munch it up off the floor.  Once I had just put Frontline on her, and a tick crawled off of her ear.  I picked it off (after the necessary scream) and it dropped on the floor.  Before I could smash it, Shadow licked it up and it was gone.  She doesn't know the difference with spiders, either, and will paw at a spider on the floor until it is crumpled and nearly dead, then eat it.  She imagines that it's her job, I think, like a border collie that is almost insanely focused on its' sheep. Now she has competition.  Rocky just went on high alert, looking high up and (I thought) watching something in the tree outside the French doors.  I craned my neck to see what kind of bird he'd spotted, because lots of interesting birds are migrating through here these days.  (He will stop whatever he's doing to intently watch geese flying over, or to keep an eye on a robin in a tree, nothing new).  But this time, I couldn't see what in the world he was staring at.....until he leaped up and snatched a fly off the door before Shadow could get to it!  The buzzing had barely registered with me before the fly was gone in his mouth.  Poor fly didn't stand a chance. It will be a crazy summer with not one but TWO crazed dogs thundering after a big fat fly that happens to get into the house.  If I could just train them to catch the cloud of flies that buzzes around the cows' heads, we'd be accomplishing something other than wet-nose-smudges on the glass doors! Gross, I know, but it's a funny little story to lighten up the mood after the last two L-O-N-G messages. Rocky IS earning his keep by doing a farm job, of sorts.  The other day I saw Bessie seemingly having a difficult time getting up off the ground.  The first thought was "Oh no, the calf is coming early!"  Next was "She must have stepped down into the big hole that Rocky dug this morning and hurt her leg" (Rocky and Shadow both dig frantically for whatever imaginary rodents live under the pine trees, and their holes are getting bigger each time!)  I went out to investigate, but all I could tell was that Bess was (by then) smeared in soft black dirt, from her nose to her ears.  Rocky had dug up enough of a dirt pile (or maybe just a big enough hole) that Bessie could get down on her knees and rub her face in it for her beauty-treatment!  ;)  Way to go, Rocky!  It's another hole that I'll need to fill, but at least it was a USEFUL hole for one day...... Have a happy Tuesday!  ;) Laura.

Animals that....."like" us!

Photos, if I remember the right order:  Charlie and Spartan, relaxing in the shade (just before they tackled each other and ran) Cows Bessie and Lucy, looking peaceful and "pastoral" Rocky the husky (looking regal) Shadow the lab-mix (looking wise or long-suffering, take your pick) I was thinking this past weekend about whether our animals love us or just recognize us. Lucy started getting the "cow attitude" and upset an armful of hay as I was trying to walk past her to the eating area.  She just stuck her head in the middle of it and nosed upward (hard!) like Bessie does.  Not really mischievous, or even stubborn.  Just......"cow".....but luckily I saw it coming and moved my chin out of the way.  Usually Lucy backs away respectfully, with her head down (which is a MUCH better reaction, from my point of view)! Jeff and I talked about this a few weeks back, and I had to admit that I no longer think of any of our animals as "loving us".  Maybe that comes from having more than a dog and a cat in suburbia, although our family always had the guinea pigs, or rabbits, parakeets, foster kittens, lizard, snake, box turtle.....We were not ever that typical suburban pet-owning family, which is where the "dykstrazoo" e-mail address comes from. First of all, I would NOT expect that a chicken would ever "love" it's owner.  It knows where the food comes from, and can be tame or semi-wild, but I can't imagine a chicken (even a hand-raised one!) would be able to love a person.  The thundering horde in the barn follows me in the hope of getting food (cow grain, cat food, a broken egg that I drop on the floor for them to finish off)  They make different noises for food excitement or for a water refill.  We have hand-raised orphan chicks and chicks from the incubator, and even the chicks that weren't ever around other chickens eventually lose that "there-you-are-let-me-hop-up-on-your-arm-and-sleep-there" enthusiasm.  It even seems that the chicks who grow up alone chicken-wise, but with the company of people, become mean later when they are added to the flock, and have an inferiority complex that shows up by picking on anything smaller than they are (AND--they don't know how to groom themselves, so they are always dirtier and more unhappy than the larger flock).  No love lost there, although I'm fond of our chickens, I won't confuse things by thinking that the chickens even "LIKE" me!  ("Like" us on Facebook, that sort of thing) Ducks?  Probably not.  Our 3 seem flightier and less trustful of people than the chickens. Cats?  They sure do like to be scratched under the chin or behind the ears, to curl up on your lap, to sometimes be scooped up and cuddled.  But I don't think that their purring has as much to do with affection for the person as it has to do with being content and having their needs met.  We have a cat that will jump up on anyone's lap and make a pest of himself (Sly!), and a cat that you don't mess with until she comes to you (and then you keep a close watch on whether her eyes get big and black with annoyance---Midnight!) The barn cats fall into both categories to some degree, but are friendly for the most part.  One will allow you to scoop him up, one will immediately bristle and leap down if you try to do more than pet him on the ground.  I really think that they seek me out for their own needs to be met, rather than to bond with me as their favorite person. The cows seem to know me and recognize me, but I don't kid myself into thinking that they love me.  I don't think there's any affection lost on their part towards me, either, big brown eyes or no......  Maybe they loved Farmer Bob because they knew him so much longer, but (after getting to know him a little bit) I think that he'd say the same thing and not be sentimental about it.  They like getting fed, but don't think twice about trying to knock me down to get at that all-important food.  Bessie doesn't stop to be petted when the gate is open and she has to lumber right past me to get at the fresh grass (doesn't give me a second glance, for that matter)  In fact, if I was in her way, she'd swish her tail and probably push right past me without a second thought.  Their annoyance when the normal schedule isn't followed kind of wipes out any semblance of even "liking" me or the rest of the family, in my mind.  But, they DO recognize me, as evidenced by Bessie being milked by Chris the other night.  She had been more interested in him than in anyone else that she's met, for some reason, sniffing him all over with curiosity (the feeling wasn't mutual, by the way!).  He came out to milk her later, and I got things cleaned down in....that area.....and started her milk flow.  She didn't let her milk down for him, even though it had been flowing just a few seconds earlier.  As soon as I took over, it was literally spraying out and into the bucket again.  Not love for me, but maybe just recognition and acceptance of the routine. The dogs are a little harder to figure out....love versus needs-being-met.  I think there's a loyalty that dogs have that other animals may not be able to muster.  It's more of a pack-mentality.  Rocky puts his ears back in submission and in acceptance towards all of us, and it's very endearing when he wags his thick husky-tail and squirms with delight when you pay attention to him.  Shadow dances in place with anticipation when she sees someone that she knows.  They will do anything for bread (Shadow and Rocky will now come, sit, lie down, and look me in the eye in perfect unison--all for a tiny tidbit of bread).  I can't really say that I believe that they love any of us, even if they behave and do what we want them to do.  Michael commented, "Mom,  Rocky likes YOU more than he likes me!", but then also observed that I'm the one that Rocky is home with every day.  That's probably the whole "feeling" in a nutshell.  They can have strong preferences and affection for one person, or for a whole family, or for everyone that walks in the front door (that would be Rocky, again).  But love might not be the word to describe it. 5 years ago or more, I would have argued that yes, Clarabel loved me.  She was our black-lab/border collie mix---the best dog ever, at least for me!  We had her for 12 years, from 8 weeks old until she had to be put to sleep because of age.  Maybe being on a farm with so many animals ends up hardening an animal-loving heart a bit.  It just seems less likely to me now that a pet hamster or a ball python snake (Carrie's pet) or even a cute fluffy puppy or kitten is capable of "love" in the way that people can love other people.  On the other hand, it's perfectly reasonable (maybe perfectly irrational!) for people to love their animals.  I've caught myself a few times saying what a pain Rocky is, but how much I love him anyway.  Or that Bessie and Lucy make such a mess, or are too pushy, but that I love them.  I know that Shadow is "my" dog, even though she's supposed to be the family's dog.  That makes me feel good. I DO love it that the cows watch for me over the fence in the morning, or that Bessie moo's to me when I'm late in milking her by a few minutes.  Shadow stands in the back acre and barks imperiously for me to come back and take her inside (meaning--you're in there, I'm in a panic because I can see you but not reach you, come and get me!)  It's nice to have both barn kitties come running from wherever they are in the yard or out in the cornfield whenever I walk out the door (or even to curl up on the wet back step and look sadly into the warm house where I'm sitting with my warm cup of coffee).  Even the chickens are fun when they come flocking to me, running to get a scrap of food, although you could never scratch behind their ears or have them roll over to scratch their bellies (it would be funny, though, wouldn't it?) I'm sure that I'm offending someone by typing all of this out.  It's just my thoughts, and maybe there ARE fabulous farm animals or pets that can truly love their people.  Maybe if we were in 4-H, we'd learn how to teach a barn animal to love us in the process of raising it.  Maybe there will be an exceptional baby calf or new puppy at some point that I won't be able to look at without thinking "Wow, they really love me, don't they?"  ;)  Kind of a happy thought, isn't it? If your pet DOES love you, let me know.  I'd love to hear the stories from your side of things!  Maybe my point of view is just colored right now by the livestock versus pet equation? We're off on spring break this week.  The weather is cold and kind of gloomy again, but it sure is nice to be off of the up-at-5:45, get-Jeremy-out-the-door by 6:15, drive-Michael-to-school by 7:30 schedule.  Enjoy the week, everyone, and share your pet stories if you have the time!  Laura. PS.  Welcome Karen and Josh.  If you wanted to check out the blog, the address is: http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com And if anyone wants to be taken OFF the e-mail list, just let me know that, too.

The first tick of spring (no celebration necessary!)

Photo:  Rocky looking innocent (unlike his activities today!) Whew!  That last message was a bit deeper than what I usually type out.  Some days that's how my thoughts are.  Today's thought has had me chuckling all day (and so was Jeff, and then so was Chris!) Remember, the mosquitos were out in droves last week, more than a month early.  I was wondering when the first tick would make its appearance.  "The first tick of the season" phrase reminded me (for some odd reason) of the book and movie The Polar Express.  A little boy takes a ride on a night train to the North Pole, and is chosen from a vast crowd of other children, all in pajamas, all waiting to see Santa.  He is ushered up to where Santa and his sleigh are, in the center of the crowd, and asked to sit on the sleigh with Santa.  Santa asks what he would like for Christmas, and the boy humbly asks for a bell from the harnesses of the reindeer.  Santa holds the bell up high, and boisterously calls out "The first gift.....of Christmas!"  Can you see where I'm going with this? I was brushing Bessie, and had worked from her nose to cheek to neck to front shoulder, then to the white stripe around her middle.  I'm not sure, but I THINK that as the brush was swiping down her side, the tell-tale and creepy dark brown body of a tick was just visible as the brush went past.  Of course, with the brush in mid-swing, I couldn't stop in time to be sure, so if it WAS a tick, it was safely in the straw bedding, given yet another chance to climb up a cow's leg (or mine!  Gross!).  I told Jeff later about the story of "The first tick.....of the season!!!"  and he laughed.  So I said that it had to go out in the blog today.  ;) Rocky was a major pain all day long.  He is SUCH an adolescent dog at this point.  What would we do without Rocky to add drama to our little farm-land adventure.....? First of all, he got past the pocket door and into our bedroom.  For some reason, he likes to leap up onto our bed and dance around a bit.  One time only, he jumped on our bed and I was still in it.  He snuggled under my arm and lay there nicely, and I was too sleepy and surprised not to shove him off and give him a talking to.  Not a big deal today, but still---he's not allowed in there, and he knows it. He has found a spot that he likes to chew along the border of our family room rug.  He pulls and paws at the rug (this is a heavy, one inch thick 5x8 wool rug!) until it's in a mound in the middle of the floor.  Then he sits down on this cushioney jumble of rug and rug pad and munches the jute binding along the side.  I thought he was too quiet (remember those days when your toddler was TOO QUIET?), so went to find what trouble he was in.  I lost it when I saw him, and woke up both Jeremy and Michael with my yelling.  It's the third time in a week.  Rocky leaped up and tried to look cute and lovable, and I used a lesson that I've learned from Shadow: grabbed the loose skin and fur on the side of his face (his jowls) and shook his head around a bit while I told him exactly what a bad dog he was being (all while looking him straight in the eyes).  If he responds to Shadow doing that to keep him in line, why mess with anything gentler?  He is a brute! Then this afternoon was the final straw.  Usually on weekends, he is allowed to choose whether he hangs out with me in the kitchen or outside, or whether he wants to sleep at Michael's feet wherever that may be.  I baked 2 loaves of bread, and one was rolled up with pizza sauce and chopped pepperoni inside, for our dinner.  They were both cooling on the counter, not even at the very edge, and up about 4 inches on a cooling rack.  He is tall enough to sniff the counter's edge with his nose, but had never (to my knowledge, at least) jumped up.  Well, Rocky's tail was visible behind the kitchen island, and at the same split second, I saw that there was only one loaf left cooling on the counter.    He was so into the chowing down that he was completely taken by surprise when I grabbed him.  Now, soft-hearted dog-lover that I am, I MIGHT have worried about abusing him because I was yelling and shaking him again, except that I just read a yahoo-group chat thread about stubborn livestock guardian dogs, and most of the experienced owners were adamant that if you have a dog that misbehaves, you flip them on their backs, sit on them, and show them who's boss.  Rocky is not a Maremma (bred in Italy to guard sheep, goats, llamas and livestock) but he is just as stubborn.  I didn't flip him, either, but once again, had to show him that he is NOT the boss.  Except for the time that I caught him with a chicken in his mouth, and I kicked him, I can honestly say that (if the Maremma owners are correct), I've handled this stubborn husky in just the way I'm supposed to.  Shadow has to either flip him or lose it with him for anything to sink in through his doofy skull, and I'm much gentler with him than Shadow tends to be. Michael had to have Rocky on the leash for the rest of the afternoon, and there was whining, and howling, and whimpering because poor Rocky was being constrained.  I'd had enough.  I found out what was fighting with Sly that one night.  I heard him yowling outside again, and went out with my flashlight.  Under the bush, I saw a black cat shape, but then realized that it was too fluffy to be Sly.  The eyes shone the same way, but.....wasn't that Sly farther back in the bushes?  And I'd gotten out there too quickly for something to have sped away so soon without being spotted.  It was another black cat, and Sly had been doing what he seems to love to do:  defending his property.  I followed when the other cat stopped to look back on the driveway (as if to check if he could dare to come back for more!), and he tore away at high speed.  At least it wasn't a skunk after chicken eggs, or a coon after chickens themselves.  But cat bites are what cost us so much money in vet bills in Palatine. Chris is here for the night.  He milked Bess for a few minutes---what a good sport!  :)  I'm positive that he only did it because I'd "only" asked a couple of times if he wanted to.  We did talk a bit about how it's strange for him to have grown up in Palatine but not to have us living there anymore.  I agonized about that for the first year after we bought the place, but before we moved here (we bought it a full year before we moved).  For me, this is home now.  But, being an Army kid, I am all too familiar with that homesick feeling which Chris seems to be feeling, and was hoping that our kids wouldn't need to make that adjustment after we made the big move.  I'm so glad to be here, but..... I just wanted to spare them any pain as we undertook a rather uncertain adventure and changed where they called "home" in the process. Hope you all have a great weekend.  Laura.

The theme of the cows

Apparently this has become something like the Ann Landers column (can't miss a day!), because a few of you are going into withdrawal and have eagerly asked when the next installment is on its way.  :) Some days I sit down and an entire story (which has been playing in my head all morning) just pours out on the page.....um....screen.  Yesterday and today, I checked e-mails but didn't feel any urge to type anything out.  So....here's a very random thought process from yesterday which has continued through to today: I looked out at Bessie and Lucy relaxing in the shade yesterday, before the storms blew in, and I felt a whole new appreciation for what it must have been like in the garden of Eden BEFORE that apple was bitten into.  It's kind of the "good shepherd" train of thought, again, but in a dance-around-the-idea sort of way, until my mind got to the core of what it was trying to figure out.  The ladies had been taken care of as usual in the morning.  Bessie was milked, so she was comfortable.  They were both brushed, so they felt loved (truly!  They turn their heads now and wait their turn, and don't want the brushing to end!).  They were fed good hay, and had spent most of the morning munching and snacking and their stomachs were full of goodness to bring up again and snack on (Gross, I know, but they do seem very content to chew their cuds and just relax--no worries!).  They were let out of the smaller cow pen to graze the grass which is now nice and green and a few inches high.  The weather was perfect--gentle breeze, warm sun, shade to lie in, spring flowers blooming.  Carrie and I went out to scratch their necks and behind their ears.  They were in heaven, so to speak.  If they were conscious of experiencing a perfect day, they might have said "Hey, good shepherd, we couldn't have imagined a more perfect day!!!"  If you eliminated the pesky flies that kept buzzing around, it was easy to imagine them as perfectly content.  (See photo) Without any warning, my mind connected The Good Shepherd (Psalm 23, which has become a sort of "theme" when I think of the cows) and the Garden of Eden (Genesis 1), and whirled that thought around a little bit as I watched the cows.  Our lives could have been that content (again, minus the flies!):  God intended to be in constant communion and fellowship with Adam and Eve, and created people for that reason.  We would not have had to work for our food or shelter.  We would not be consumed with the need for "things".  Pain would not have been part of the scenario.  Repairs and break-downs and mosquito-bites and injuries would not have even been imagined.  If one small anonymous heifer was munching a bit of choice grass, one cow that shall remain unnamed would not rush over to head-butt the heifer out of the way.  Our schedules would not be crammed full of things that didn't really merit our attention or valuable time.  Friends and family would have time to visit and relax and not stress about getting home in time to put kids to bed or cleaning up the kitchen mess after serving dinner.  Maybe we wouldn't even have had houses, but would have enjoyed sitting in the shade of the trees and being more like "the lilies of the field" or the "sparrows of the air" (words of Jesus in the gospel books of New Testament)  God provides everything that they need, and they are never in "want".  We would have been constantly in the company of a God who loves us and who takes care of us. How that came out of watching 2 cows, I'm still not sure. So now, to take it a step further:  Even though we have stress, and stuff, and schedules, and sickness, and work, and pain, God still cares for us just as much as he cared for Adam and Eve before they turned their backs on His plan.  (Actually, God already loved for us way back then, before He even created the FIRST human being!)  It was a human decision way back at the beginning to move away from God.  He did not move away from us.  He is still there.  We are the ones with blinders on, not able to see Him taking care of every aspect of our lives, just like He intended from the time He decided to make man in the first place. To make a kind of quirky comparison.....the biting flies of our life will always keep us from perfect contentment while we live here on earth.  Maybe it was Pat's passing last weekend that pulled all those loose thoughts together for me.  Ever since Jeff's dad passed away, I've had a vivid picture in my mind of Dale Dykstra, singing in heaven, just worshiping God in person like he did in church down here.  He is in the constant company of God.  Jeff's mom Joan passed away 5 or 6 years later, and I can see the same for her.  She didn't sing in the choir, but had other ways of worshiping God, and now she is in His presence, sharing her eternity with Him. Pat, too.  She lived her life here, praised God in her own personal way, fought hard to beat the cancer that ultimately claimed her life.....but it was God who ultimately loved her all of her life and took her home.  She is in His presence, using her unique (and now perfect!) personality to praise Him forever.  Selling real estate?  Maybe not.  Her infectious enthusiasm for adventure?  How much bigger an adventure can there be than heaven?!!!  ;) I still miss these people, and always will.  But there's something about that image.....each one (Dale, Joan, Pat, and so many others) is enjoying what God created all of us for.  My dad just let us know that their good friend passed away.  My dad was privileged to spend a few hours at hospice with his friend Bob, just yesterday.  Dad described this man as someone who always left you feeling better than before you spent time with him.  Bob is in heaven with our Lord today, ultimately and completely content, after God blessed so many people through Bob's life here on earth.  Hopefully my stream-of-consciousness approach doesn't leave all of you scratching your heads in total confusion.  Back to the cows and their "heaven on earth".  The theme of the cows?  I am their "good shepherd".  I take care of them and attend to their needs and make sure their days are content.  I fall short.  I didn't create them.  I haven't known them since before they were born.  I can't keep the flies from biting and bothering them.  I can't keep the pine sap from sticking in their fur or the mud from caking on their legs.  I can't keep them warm in the winter or cool in the heat of the summer.   I won't always have time to brush them each day, and may even run out of the grain that they love at one point or another.  I can't possibly care for these cows, chickens, even for my husband and children in the same way that God cares for each of us.  (Husband and children rate WAY above the animals, just so that everyone knows and doesn't question my priorities!)  :) God is our Good Shepherd.  He knew us before we were born, and knows us every day since then.  "People" made the choice to move away from Him.  He comes looking for us as if we're one little lost lamb out of hundreds or thousands or millions of other lambs, because He KNOWS us!!!  He takes care of us (whether we acknowledge it or not), attends to our needs (whether we choose to see Him in that capacity or not), and provides for our contentment (sometimes but not necessarily always during this lifetime, but for eternity).   Somehow, watching contented cows in the pasture yesterday, I got a glimpse of how the life of every human COULD have been (before sin entered the picture), and how our eternal lives CAN (and will!) be, if we trust that God is there for us. Love to you all! Laura. PS.  Hope that fills the void that 2 days without the farm blog has left.....  ;)

Flowers and chicken-tales

That wasn't very nice of me, was it, to sent photos of LAST year when spring was in full swing. In the Picasa web album below are some photos of the daffodils and the sand cherries and attach them to today's message.  Choose "play slideshow" if you want to read the full captions under each photo. I think I've found the problem for our sinus infections and cold symptoms. It's quite possibly chick-dust AND mold. I could smell mold in the basement today, from the top of the stairs. We still have the huge box that the freezer came in, set up down there for chicks (shavings in the bottom, heat lamp, food and water containers, and lots of room for chicks to play). There are only 6 chicks in there now, in a rabbit cage but set down inside that big box to keep Rocky away from them. We had 2 batches of chicks in that box already, and both batches are now in the barn. The last batch was very messy, and continually spilled their water all over.  The mold smell was coming from the box. I'm guessing that when I get that box up off the floor, the bottom will be soggy and moldy, and the bedding will be wet and gross, under the dry stuff on top.  Those last 6 chicks will go out to the barn today with the 19 + 15 that are coming here tonight from the first grade classrooms at Immanuel. The BOX, though, will be going out to the fire-pit and will go up in smoke. I think I'll wear a mask, too, because as I got close to the mold-smell just now, my sinuses stuffed up again. This is kind of funny: Yesterday I was a little frightened in the barn. Michael did a great job getting the old chicken litter (straw, food that they turned their beaks up at, and....poo) moved out of the barn a few days back, and the barn floor is mostly bare again, waiting for new barn lime and then straw to be put down. The barn used to be a dairy barn, so there is a center aisle which is now covered with thick plywood, to make the floor level. I wasn't really thinking, just getting water for the chickens and preparing to milk Bess, when I heard a nearly-thunderous pounding behind me.  I whirled around in a bit of a panic, not sure what was behind me, and saw about 2 dozen chickens following me (not walking slowly, no, these chickens were RUNNING towards me, from every corner of the barn!) Chickens following me is nothing new.  They know that I'll toss an extra can-ful of dry cat food on the straw for them, or will come out with kitchen scraps for them, or scatter a handful of grain for them to peck at. The difference was the pounding sound that dozens of running chicken-feet made on the plywood floor without straw to muffle it! Whew! Scary-situation averted! Then, I had some fun with it. The chickens followed me to the water barrels. They ran after me when I filled the pail with grain for Bessie. They nearly flew to keep up as I went to feed the cats. The horde could hardly wait to trip over themselves to follow me outside.....where I led them to some grass.....where I stayed long enough to make sure they were pre-occupied.....where I left them behind by ducking behind a big evergreen and sneaking back into the barn to finish up the chores in peace! :) It seems that we've successfully melded 2 big flocks into one, although there are still 3 roosters between the 2 flocks. The one flock still has it's 2 brother watch-roosters (one is top-dog, but his lesser brother imagines that he is the favorite of the ladies) and the Ameraucana mixed flock still follows their not-pure-bred Ameraucana rooster who is a bit less pushy than the other 2 roos. The idea was---first of all, to stop tripping when I stepped up and over the fencing that kept the two flocks separate in the barn. Second of all, to eliminate the need for separate entrances, and (mostly) to have all of the chickens which live in the barn eat from the same feeders, drink from the same waterers, and graze in the same outside-pasture. Another bonus? Both flocks can now scoot under the bottom electric wire of the cow pen and pick out the grain that the cows didn't digest, and dine on the flies and maggots that love the manure so much (necessary protein, don't you know! Maybe even better than worms.) The Ameraucana flock has made it a habit every morning to graze the cow-pen first-thing, before they even head out to the grassy area. The cows have learned to look up with mild interest at the squawking, then go back to peacefully munching on their hay. Bessie did face off with one gray chicken yesterday, but only because it was in her way. The bad thing? The chickens have a sizable area to graze, but it will be bare dirt in no time, and we'll have to rearrange the chicken-netting so that they still have grass to munch, but also so that the old area can either recover or be reseeded. But still there's a silver lining: Jeff wants to grow hops and maybe wheat or oats for beer, and the chickens will do a good job of scratching and cultivating the area he has his eye on. I want to say how fun it is to share this adventure with all of you. I also want to tell you all how humbling it is to hear a friend say what a difference all of these little stories or a visit to the farm has made in their own life. Who knew? It is a beautiful, wonderful and sometimes scary adventure for our family, especially since none of us were ever farmers (or ever imagined ourselves to be!), but I never expected any of it to impact anyone else except to maybe bring a smile to their day....... Have a great day, everyone. Laura. You are invited to view Laura's photo album: 2012-03-21 March 2012 2012-03-21 March 2012 Mar 13, 2012 by Laura View Album Play slideshow Contribute photos to this album Message from Laura: These pictures were sent with Picasa, from Google. Try it out here: http://picasa.google.com/ If you are having problems viewing this email, copy and paste the following into your browser: https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=dykstrazoo1&target=ALBUM&id=5722372775651836097&authkey=Gv1sRgCLPPjerIlMqkqgE&feat=email To share your photos or receive notification when your friends share photos, get your own free Picasa Web Albums account.

First official day of Spring

(Photos:  Late spring last year at the farm--the gardens were beautiful even overgrown and with weeds, and with a lot of work were beautiful again!) Spring is definitely here.  The forsythia, sand cherries and daffodils are all blooming here in Woodstock.  Carrie pointed out to me the small crocuses which bloom in front of our Palatine house, and remembered "You were always so excited when those bloom".  Kind of sad, that it's in the past tense.  I'll have to make sure to add some of those early-early spring crocuses to the gardens here! Usually spring comes after spring break, though, which isn't until next week, and then it still takes a while in gathering steam.  We used to travel to Atlanta to visit Jeff's family almost every spring break when the kids were little.  We'd be driving south, and see spring unfolding before our eyes the farther south we got.  I'd hate coming back, because it would be the reverse--leaving spring, which I love, and coming back to the dreary and depressing last days of a Midwest winter.  Those little crocuses in Palatine were sometimes the only sign of color in our yard after a week of being surrounded by spring down south.   Some years, my sister in Chattanooga already had robins nesting on their front porch, in mid- to late-March!  This year, the robins are already starting to think about nesting HERE!!! Delivering eggs the other day, Casey said "We're true Midwesterners.  We just can't help waiting for the other shoe to drop".  I'm thinking that there is an inevitable cold-front on the way, but am trying to enjoy the flowers and warm weather while they last! Enjoy!  Thank-you God for the beautiful weather!  ;) Laura.

Jeff milks Bossy Bessie

(Photo:  Bessie in a moment of "attitude", fitting for the story) Jeff had the delightful experience to do all the farm chores on Saturday night when I was too sick to roll out of bed (in this case, to roll off the couch where I had crashed mid-afternoon with the worst sinus infection EVER!)  Jeff milked Bess once before, while I was giving him a running-monologue of what to do.  It was probably much more peaceful for him this time in that respect, except that Bessie was in a "mood".  ;( He dutifully took notes before heading outside, and did everything--closing the Barnevelder coop, giving them water, closing their windows.  Closing the barn doors when all the other chickens were inside.  Feeding the barn kitties.  Turning off the barn lights.  Taking the dogs out one last time.  And the fun one:  Milking Bessie on the day when she didn't get her grain. That was the day she got loose in the barn.  I finally did call the vet that afternoon, because she was lying side-by-side with Lucy in the pasture, and it just didn't seem right to me.  Too peaceful, and kind of like the lion lying down with the lamb idea.  I'm sure Dr. Morrissey got his laugh for the day, because by the time he called, she was again chewing her cud and being her disagreeable self, eliminating normal-looking stuff, no signs of bloating or being sick from chicken-feed.  He suggested that the cows had looked chummy in the pasture because they both settled down in the breeziest area and didn't feel like moving (I was trying to determine if he was laughing as he said it, but I think he was respectful of my new-ness to all of this cow-stuff!).  We DID agree that she should not get any grain when she was milked that night. So I crashed, once I knew Bessie wasn't about to fall over dead because of her greediness, and the job fell to Jeff.  He described afterward how she kept trying to back out of the stanchion, checking the milk bucket to see if her grain was in THERE, kicking over the milk bucket because she was restless, hooves shifting position the whole time, swatting him in the face with her manure-caked tail because she was annoyed.  I guess that's the way cows are--they need their routine, or they are at a loss and get fussy about everything.  Jeff did manage to bring in over a quart of milk, but said with disgust "There was more than TWICE as much before she kicked the bucket over!"  He did a good job, and accomplished what would have been sheer torture for me if I'd had to force myself out to the barn on that particular night. I surfaced from the couch just long enough to hear what happened, and then was out-of-it again until 8 am on Sunday morning.  :( Still getting over it, too.  We had a terrible thought over the weekend that needs to be investigated.  Jeremy has been sick off and on for a few months now.  Jeff was sick along with Jeremy a month or so ago.  I've had days here and there of dizzyness or headaches.  Jeff got sick with a sinus infection and bad hacking cough right after the toilet above our bedroom had leaked through the ceiling.  I got sick with the killer sinus infection and near-migraine headache the next day.  We know that mold remediation was done at some time in the basement of our house, because of all the repairs to the drywall that needed to be made.  Is it possible that dampness or moisture in any part of the house could trigger an explosion of mold spores?  Internet sources show that it's very possible.  The house is over 150 years old in some parts.  If a mold got a foothold at some point, it would be hard to totally eradicate it, even with mold remediation. The other variable is the chicks in the house, which has been since early January, about the time Jeremy first got his rumbly cough and stuffy nose.  Today my job is to clear out all the chick-dust in the upstairs bathroom and the upstairs bedrooms and get the chick-box out of the basement and clean there, too.  Michael shoveled countless loads of chicken-bedding over the weekend for me, and is stuffed up now, too.  So it could be the chick-dust in the air that is just a nasal irritant, and Michael could have reacted to the very dusty bedding in the same way that we might be reacting to chick-dust in the house.  It could be the normal course of sinus infections, happening earlier in the season because it hasn't really been winter, here, too.  Jeff checked into mold-spore testing kits, and we'll do that,  just to be safe.  There's also a great web-site by Andrea Fabry (MomsAware) whose entire family became almost deathly ill from mold in a nearly-new home.  She gives tons of info, and I've heard her speak on Moody Bible Institute radio as well.  Very interesting, and also potentially very scary. Jeff and I sat in the sun yesterday afternoon, out in the pasture with the dogs and cows milling around us.  Looking at this beautiful, near-perfect farmhouse, it's hard to think that a mold could be residing here that would make us sick.  Definitely needs to be checked out. Update on Rocky's chicken victim:  She is healed, but is totally blind in one eye.  I can put my hand right up to her face, and she doesn't know I'm there until I touch her feathers.  She is playing it safe, staying in the barn, and has taken the older chicks on as her family, since being in with them for the past month or so. Thanks, everyone, who responded in sympathy to yesterday's blog posting about my friend Pat.  It's so nice to have the support and encouragement of so many great friends and family. Also, I know that many of you are forwarding the e-mails to friends or family who are getting a real "kick" out of some of the funnier ones, and at the very least are getting a crash course of what works and doesn't work with these particular cows.  If you want to make it easier on yourself, your friends can log onto the blog site and request notification when there is a new story posted.  Almost every e-mail that you get from me about the cows or farm life is also posted on the blog.  http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/ Welcome Aunt Janna!  Sorry I didn't have the right address for you sooner!  ;) Laura.

Goodbye to a friend

(Photo:  Pat Larsen) I received word yesterday that our real estate agent had passed away.  She had been battling cancer for the second or third time.  I just had to stop and cry for a bit.  It was a business friendship that had turned into a real friendship, and the thought of her upbeat last visit to the farm had seemed to point to the possibility that she'd beat the cancer again.  I didn't think otherwise until I received a short e-mail from the real estate office a few days ago. I contacted Pat when Jeff and I had first started entertaining the idea of a home in the country.  I called her about a listing--a beautifully kept Victorian farmhouse on just an acre or two, even farther away from Palatine than we are now.  It turned out that it was HER house, but there was already an offer on it.  They was moving to a condo in Woodstock, to downsize.  I've driven past it several times--it is an absolutely beautiful house.  She and her husband moved from the Chicago suburbs years ago, and commuted to work by way of Metra and the L-O-N-G drive in.....so she knew what we were looking at doing from personal experience. That started the real estate search, the wild-goose chase, the "adventure" as Pat used to call it.  For a year, she'd call me when there was a new listing that we might want to see, or I'd call her (I had numerous internet searches going on.)  She was always on top of what was current.  Once I "found" a listing for a house that would have been in the perfect area, and she knew right away that it had sold 3 months before.  When I saw a listing for a beautiful old brick farmhouse on 20 acres in Belvidere (too far away, and I knew it even then), Pat's response was "Well, let's go on an adventure!" I pestered her with numerous e-mails, as our family-thoughts formed into a real plan, and as I worked through my fears of uprooting our family for something that might just be a dream.  Our calls and e-mails didn't usually stick to the topic, and she told me about her family, and I told her about mine.  She told me about her cancer treatments, and that she was going to need to start them again.  I told her about all of the chickens that we had, which were living at a friends' place, and she would cackle with glee. I was planning at some point to type out the story of how THIS property came to be ours, and it seems fitting that I type it as part of my memory of working with Pat.  One night in the summer of 2010, I changed the specifications on one search I had going on-line, from 5 acres to "2 or more acres".  The next morning, this property, with 2 acres, was the first possibility to pop up.  I'd seen the listing before, back when it was listed at over $400,000, and quickly passed it by at that point.  You can't tell to much from photos if the price is already too high for you to consider.  I called Pat, and she was busy all day.  That should have been that, but by noon, Jeremy and I were in the car, heading towards the address of this property, with no plans of being able to see the inside of the house.  After peeking in a few windows, I had to call Pat.  "Pat, you'll never guess where we are",  I said.  She knew immediately.  "You're at that farmhouse, aren't you!  I can be there in 15 minutes!" She took us into the kitchen first, and my comment was "Pat, I don't need to see any more of the house.  This is the one".  She knew before I even said it.  Jeremy had fun exploring, while Pat and I oohed and aahed about every feature of the rest of the house, barn, garage, yard..... By the time we'd finished examining and exploring every inch of the place, I was ready to sign papers to make an offer.  But....it only seemed right that Jeff have a chance to take a look!  He left work early, got Michael from school, and headed out, but I was going crazy with the waiting!  Pat took us back to her office and pulled up all the old listings for the property, plus showed us the real estate maps of the surrounding areas (that's how I know who owns the 75 acres around our 2 acres).  We did as much preliminary paperwork as we could without Jeff there to sign things.  Jeremy and I had to kill some time before Jeff got to the place, so we went to Culver's and Pat promised to meet us back at the farm house after dinner. I think that Jeff liked the place.  It's hard to remember, I was so excited.  I think he asked me "Is this the house that you really want?" in the course of the conversation.  He had seen some of the run-down or out-dated places that Pat and I plowed through in the course of that year.  We signed the papers in the kitchen of what would eventually become our house.  Pat talked us through what to offer, and we decided that we'd offer only what the asking price was:  $185,000.  There had been several other groups come through with their real estate agent just that day, and Pat had suggested that there could be a bidding war because the bank had deliberately priced it low.  She also said that our offer had just as good a chance as any other, so...not wanting to mess with a bidding war, we offered the asking price. I have to think that Pat was just as delighted as I was.  She left to make the paperwork official, and Jeff gathered the 4 of us in the driveway and prayed for God's guidance, for His blessing, and for our own patience as we waited to see if we would own this beautiful property.  I felt a sense of peace, expecting that God had led us here after a year of searching, and somehow feeling that this was "our" farm. I don't think it was more than a day or two when Pat called to tell us that a higher offer had been accepted.  It was "substantially" higher than ours.  We were all disappointed, and, even though Pat was willing to keep looking with us, we felt like we needed to sit back and take a little break from trying to see anything more without comparing it to the perfect property in Greenwood! Just another day or two, and I was furiously cleaning the house in Palatine, working out my frustrations.  Pat called, and said in kind of sing-song cheerful voice, "Laura.....You got the house!".  My first response must have been garbled, because I didn't immediately know what she was talking about.  Turns out, she was at a volleyball match between rival real estate offices.  She'd been talking to the agent of the people whose offer had been accepted, and they'd walked away from it.  The bank wanted a larger-than-normal amount of earnest money, and the other buyers weren't willing to do that.  They had backed out, and Pat knew what their offer had been and the amount of earnest money that the bank wanted--all the details that made it possible for us to make the offer that would buy the house.  I don't know the technicalities, or if the listing even officially went back on the market, but by that weekend, my sister Karen and her family, Pat, and our family were at the farm again.  This time, we brought the check for the earnest money.  The photo above is of Pat (looking delighted, as usual!) ready to leave to bring our offer and money to the bank.  Karen's family loved the house like we did (Surrin said something like "See, honey, I've been TELLING you that we should get glass-front cabinet doors" which had all of us laughing).  Jeremy and his twin cousin Sonya had a great time checking out everything, dancing crazily in the barn, running through the overgrown back acre..... By the end of August 2010, the property was ours.  Pat, of course, walked us through every step of the process.  At one point she told me that she wanted me to come and work in their office.  I think my reply was something like "But Pat, moving to a farm and getting used to life in the country, it will be years before I can do something like that" and her reply was "Well, I'm going to be looking for someone to take my place.  I'm not going to keep working FOREVER!"  I really liked that idea--working with a friend.  I did that once before, working the after-school program when my friend Ginger was the director.  It doesn't feel like work so much, when you are seeing a good friend every day. Pat and I kept in touch, and every time we talked or e-mailed, she was excited to hear about the progress.  We tried a number of times to have her come out here, but until late January, something always got in the way.  She said she wanted to come when she could relax with me and enjoy a cup of tea, or a glass of wine while the sun went down..... It was the cows that sparked the final "Well, now I've GOT to come out!" and we got the visit set.  She was so excited for us, and dutifully brought her own bottle for some fresh milk, and got her eggs (she is the one who originally started several of her friends in the real estate office ordering eggs from us).  For Pat, this was a visit to see the continuation of the adventure that she'd been such a part of at the very beginning, and, as always, she shared in my excitement by adding her own. She told me that she and her husband were heading off on their yearly vacation, and that they'd never missed a year, despite chemo treatments for both of them over the years.  And she was ecstatic that her doctor wasn't going to tell her that she HAD to wear sunscreen (she probably wouldn't have worn it anyway!)  It was a short visit, with a doctor appointment coming up later that afternoon, but this is what she wrote to me later that day: I enjoyed our brief visit and am so happy to see you in a situation that you love.  Now I'm off to make some oatmeal with that amazing milk. I expected that they'd gone on vacation as planned, but didn't hear back from Pat since then.  Last week I meant to ask how Pat was doing, when I was at the office delivering eggs.  Then there was a short e-mail, letting me know that Pat has passed away.  She was a vibrant person, full of life, so much fun to be with.  We are here largely because of her efforts (she would say "Well, you can look at that house, but I really want you closer to Woodstock!)  Pat was one of those rare people who took great delight in seeing other people happy. Pat, I had hoped to share that new baby calf with you, to continue providing you with fresh eggs "to keep your health up" as you said, to always think of you as the first friend I had in Woodstock.  I'm honored that you chose to think of me as a friend and not just another client.  Casey at the office titled the e-mail about your passing as "A legacy of a true real estate professional".  Your legacy lives on in our family, as the friend who led the way for us to come "home", all the way from the busy suburbs of Chicago to a little slice of country.  I'll miss you!