Water!

There is so much moisture in the air that flourescent lights in the barn don't want to come on.  There is condensation on every hard surface inside the entire barn, including light-switch plates and the plastic hanging against the cement  walls.  When I picked up a shovel yesterday inside the barn, the handle was slick with drops of water.   The torrential rain is dripping down through the barn roof where the shingles have worn away, through the floor of the hay loft (the second floor) and dripping from the ceiling beams in the first floor!  I am SO glad that I've been pulling down the moldy drywall and damp insulation from the first floor ceiling, because if all the recent moisture was trapped inside the insulation, there's no telling how much more mold would be growing out there! All the 5 gallon buckets under the drip-line outside the barn are full.  The cow-trough is full.  The 55 gallon drums in the barn are full.  We'll need to keep it all from freezing, but there is a rich blessing of fresh water everywhere that we needed it. The ground is so saturated that there are puddles with nowhere to drain away.  The pasture is so saturated that, when Rocky runs, he flicks up showers of muddy drops (so, if you're walking with a wheelbarrow full of cow stuff, and he runs enthusiastically past you, you will be showered with cold muddy water as his paws hit the ground.  Yeah....., personal experience!) Despite catching and saving all that precious rainwater in buckets, troughs, even pots and pans, I probably wasted as much water yesterday before the rain started.  The outside temps were up around 60 degrees, so the hose was reeled out to the cow-trough to fill it up.  I was going to run the hose for half an hour (should normally fill the tank in 45 minutes or so), then turn it off when I went to pick up Jeremy.  Not knowing how much rain would actually fall, I wanted to make sure that the trough was filled while it was possible to run water through the hose, before temps got back down to freezing.  Jeff and Michael get SO tired of lugging 5 gallon buckets of water from the bathtub out to the cow-trough every evening! Well, Shadow had to be let out at the last minute, and then I was already running late, and....the hose was left on for the 45 minutes that I was gone.  (Meaning, it filled the tank and kept running long enough to have filled yet ANOTHER tank, except that there wasn't another tank!)   After the drought this past summer, this seems excessively wasteful to me!  (Our water comes from an underground aquifer that spans at least the county, if not a good portion of the entire state (depends on who you talk to!)   Jeremy put it into perspective, though, as he hopped into the car at school. His comment as I was berating myself for wasting all that water?   "Well, Mom.....it all goes back to the same place anyway, so don't feel so bad about it".   He's right.  At 10  years old, he understands the underground-lake concept where our water comes from, and he's right.  If not for the electricity to run the pump which brought the water up through our well, that excess water is going right back where it came from, filtering down through layers upon layers of dirt and rock to refill the aquifer that so badly needed a fresh supply of water. And there are certainly more important things to occupy my mind than the water that I can't reclaim, no matter how hard on myself I think I need to be! Now it's snowing.  It seems that we've had weather from every season except summer in the past 48 hours! Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

A Predator in The Midst

Photos:  Almost hidden in the dark of the barn, an unsuspecting chicken with a death wish cuddles close, surprise at being on Jeremy's arm, and....finally, back where he belongs! I went out last night like usual to tuck all the critters in for the night. Kitties came running for their food (I throw some cheap cat food to the chickens every night for extra protein to keep them laying, and the barn cats know that they can sneak a few mouthfuls before the birds flock to the feast!) The chickens were busy feasting on the dry cat food that I had tossed onto the straw (quite a sight to see 90 sets of tail feathers up in the air in a tight pack as they gobbled up the treat.) I grabbed the bucket to fill with evening grain for the cows, reached for the metal scoop that hangs on a hook under the chicken roost.....and let out a gasp! Took my tired brain a second to realize what I was looking at.  A little feathery bundle with upright "ears" was perched on the chicken's roost.  Eyes were squinted shut, face was almost whiskery with tiny feathers, and, if it had been on a tree instead of perched against a backdrop of poopy-drywall, I probably wouldn't have even seen it. I dashed back to the house and hollered out "Hey guys, put on a jacket and shoes and come out to the barn right away!"  Their response?  "What happened?"  They thought one of the cows must be dead or some such thing. I grabbed the camera and assured Jeff and Jeremy that nothing bad had happened, and to come on out.  Jeff said "Well, maybe THAT's why we don't have a mouse problem!"  Maybe.....  We got some pictures, and I dared to use the flash a few times.  A chicken flew up to her customary roost and nudged close to the owl, not realizing that she was so close to a killer.  The owl shifted to the very end of the roost, and the chicken shifter closer.  (This is a chicken whose judgement might be in question anyway, as she's been acting strange lately and might not last the winter.....Still, you don't roost next to something that could eat you!) We think he must have flown in the one missing window pane on the doors to the south entrance.  I realized that if he started flying around after the lights were out, he was small enough for the cats to take down because he might be confused as to how to get back out of the barn.  They've easily caught robins and other small birds that have gotten into the barn and were just trying to find their way back to freedom. I got him to step up onto the edge of the metal feed scoop, and next thing I knew he was on my coat in the crook of my elbow.  Not what I intended, with those owl-y talons gripping into the down filling of my nice coat. Jeremy was fascinated and wanted to try to hold him, so we carefully transferred him to the crook of Jeremy's elbow instead.  None of this would have been happening if there was bare skin involved, for sure! Jeremy and I brought him carefully outside, because by now his eyes were wide open and he was very watchful of where the cats were.  We made sure to keep the cats in the barn as we left (and they appeared immediately, of course, after effortlessly jumping out the missing window-pane and coming to join us!) Carrying the little owl on a branch, we carefully brought him to the ancient willow-tree and he hopped off the branch and onto the tree.  I was worried that the cats might have followed, so I tapped the trunk of the tree behind the owl a few times as he hopped up higher and higher (kind of like nudging the back of a toad to get him to hop to safety) When we headed back inside to warm up, he was safely above our head-level in the willow tree, up where the humongous trunk splits into 3 or 4 massive sections of the tree. This morning, Jeremy checked on him and he was gone.  We had decided that if he was still there, then he wasn't healthy.  If he was gone, then he was well enough to fly off and hunt. It turned out well.  Would have been sad to find a huddle of feathers or a sickly owl to worry about.  Jeremy was prepared to nurse it back to health, but I'm sure it's a protected species or something, probably illegal to keep one, so it's best this way. Looking at photos in our bird books, he appears to have been an Eastern Screech Owl, although the measurement of 8 1/2 inches long seems larger than what this little one was.  They can exist in areas with mature trees (which we have plenty of), and can sometimes live in someone's yard for years without ever being seen or noticed.  If he lives in our trees, we might have never known he was there except for one unfortunate side-trip to land him inside our barn.  If he lives somewhere else, we are grateful for the chance-sighting and hope he gets home safely. Quite exciting! Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Fooled by Rapunzel

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!"  And....if you watched Sesame Street, you can probably remember that scene with the prince voiced by Guy Smiley!)  ;) Ruby got her way yesterday in true princess-fashion, after all of my planning to keep her in the stall for the morning was shown to be for nothing.   She was left there to start the weaning process, instead of being let out immediately after I milked her mama.  I waited until about 12:30, went outside to set her free, and.....there was the stall, the latch was still closed, the sides were intact, but no Ruby inside of it.  A small tuft of black fur on the gate told the story:  She'd jumped the gate.  Not quite like Rapunzel letting down her hair from the tall tower, but still.  It makes a good story. I can only imagine the banging around and temper tantrum that she threw before discovering that she could just hop over the thing.   But, good thing about it:  It emphasizes that we chose the right thing in NOT fostering another calf.  Imagine if we had someone else's calf, and Ruby was able to so effortlessly thwart our attempts to let that new calf nurse from her own mama.  It would be a constant and daily battle to get enough milk into the foster calf while trying to scheme against the wily young Ruby.  No extra stress needed, that's for sure!  And now, if she's hopping out of a stall with walls higher than 4 feet, our family milk supply is in danger! Remember when Ruby was born, and we had started closing her in the stall at night in order to get milk from Bessie the next morning?  Ruby outsmarted us then, by sticking her head through the slats of the stall and emptying Bessie's udder anyway.  I declared war at that time, and we won.  The reward was that we got the milk we needed, and Ruby got her fair share after ours was taken. Ruby already staged another uprising last night, after I shut her in for the normal routine:  "Come for the bucket of grain and fresh hay, close the stall door, and you stay right there in your cozy stall until I let you out in the morning".  I hung around a bit to see if she would try anything, and sure enough, I heard a bit of crashing and banging.  Next thing I saw was her curious face peering out around the door of the barn----definitely NOT in the stall. So today there is no milk, and I will work to make the stall into a "tie-stall", where Ruby walks in, gets tethered with a short lead to a hook on the wall, and can't back out or escape.  No worries, Jeff and I have talked through how to anchor the hook into a board that is securely fastened to the wall-studs on the opposite side of the wall, so (hopefully!) there is no chance that she tears out a section of the wall with her next tantrum!  Hmmm.....that would make her more of a Samson than a Rapunzel.  That could be the story tomorrow if all does not go as planned.  "Entire Barn collapses after insolent calf gets her way" with the side-line "Calf causes her own homelessness".   She'll toss her head and stamp her hooves and probably buck and kick around all night long, but I will NOT be thwarted in my determination to work towards weaning her.  War is hereby declared again, and we WILL win!  At some point, we'll be able to outsmart a determined 7 month old heifer!  If we win this round, there will be milk for the family tomorrow.  Something worthwhile to fight for!  :) Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Princess Ruby's Wild Ride

Well, the title is really a combination of two worthy titles for today: Rocky's Wild Ride And Princes Ruby Stamps Her Hoof Ruby had to deign to drink from a bucket of water this morning.  She flicked her tongue out distastefully, and slurped up a bit, but she was NOT happy.  She had waited all night for mama's milk, and her petulance was obvious as she discovered that the normal routine would be thwarted by a gate with a latch that wouldn't budge..... But let's back up a bit. The morning started normally.  Jeff and the boys left for school and work.  I took Rocky out to the pasture for rodent-patrol, while Shadow had to be on the dog-cable near the house (her spine and back legs aren't fully healed yet).  I came in and had my home-made yogurt and some coffee for breakfast and got the milking supplies ready. Rocky was impatient, and decided to hurry up his normal routine a bit, so instead of waiting for me to allow him into the cow pen for rat-patrol while I milked Bess, he squeezed through and was barking incessantly at Bessie (who hates him!)  Made me wish that I'd left the electric fencing hooked up to the charger on the main fence, so that Rocky's wet nose would have gotten quite a shock as he barged in. He was worked up, and acted like he wanted to go back to the house, so I took him by the collar and opened the gate.  As I turned to latch the gate, he wrenched away from me.  I ALMOST grabbed the tip of his tail, and he tucked it gleefully and took off full-speed.  I had no idea where he had gone, except for the huge pawprints in the snow up to the edge of the farm-field to the south of us.  Grrrrr.....   There are two houses within a mile of us that have chickens, and both of them would be relatively easy coops for a determined high-prey-drive husky to rip into.  There are horses in various fields that might be delightful to chase.  And.....I should have been milking at that point, but now I had a prodigal dog to hunt down.  I was listening for gunshots, to be quite honest, and thinking that he probably deserved it. As I went out to the car, I could see Rocky enjoying a full-speed run out in the farm-field, and called to him as if I wasn't furious with him at the moment.  Surprisingly, he picked up speed and looked absolutely glorious as he ran full-out towards me.   I was prepared:  I had 3 slices of bakery bread in my hand, he braked himself just as he would have bowled me over and literally wolfed all three slices down.  I used that opportunity to grab his collar and make sure I had a firm grip.  No urgent calls to the Husky Rescue today.  (If he ever did get out and kill or injure someone's animals, we'd be making a quick call to the rescue to see if we could surrender him to them.  Probably an inevitable fate, after this morning's eye-opener). And back to Princess Ruby. We decided NOT to foster a calf.  The vet answered a lot of questions, a big one being how to wean Ruby.  It wouldn't be a quick couple-of-days like I naively thought.  If I was still milking Bessie, and there was milk to be had, Ruby would go to great lengths to keep nursing.  It would be chaotic (in my opinion) to keep Ruby away from Bessie and a foster calf, and would disrupt the peaceful little routine that we have going here.  Last night, I looked at Bessie and Ruby, mother and daughter, both of them standing inside the barn with frost on their whiskers and eyelashes, and imagined Ruby being shut outside by herself, starting tomorrow when the foster calf would arrive.  Even if it wasn't frigidly cold out there, I don't want to do that. So....change of plans.  Fostering a calf is out.  Weaning Ruby is still the task-at-hand.   I set up the grain and alfalfa for both mama and heifer calf.  I milked Bessie and put some Bag Balm on her to protect the exposed sensitive areas from frostbite (and calf-bite!!!).  I shoveled manure.  I brought out a bale of clover-grass hay and put it in the shelter that Jeff built.  The cows hang out there all day, until I let them back into the barn at night. Ruby tossed her head impatiently every time I walked past her stall and didn't let her out.   I brought her a bucket of water.  She sniffed it and tossed her head. I gave her some hay that Bessie left behind last night.  Ruby stamped her hoof. I made sure that the latch to the stall door was secure.  Ruby reached forward to snuffle in my face in impatience. There was none of the usual prancing out of the stall and diving beneath Bessie to nurse, because.....in the interest of Bessie's teats not getting chewed up quite so much, and in the interest of helping Ruby to grow up and not need mama's milk, she will now be spending mornings in the stall and not running free.   Mama and baby will not munch the fresh bale of hay together.  Bessie gets it all to herself until noon. Mama and baby will not huddle together against the cold until after lunch-time (although it should be noted that Ruby has an exceptionally thick coat of calf-fur, and her stall is in a snug and relatively wind-free corner inside the barn).   Ruby will not be nursing except for during the afternoon, and will be lured back into the stall each night for the usual separation from mama.   The time of separation each day will be extended over the course of a few weeks, rather than instant and prolonged separation (that's what we would have needed to do to accommodate a foster calf!)  Ruby's separation will consist of being kept in the stall progressively longer over a period of weeks, rather than being shut out of the barn by herself. I'll start monitoring how much milk Bessie has left after just an afternoon with her greedy princess of a daughter, and will begin milking her in the evenings when it's necessary.   It's a start, and will not be terribly upsetting to the normal routine of things.  For the  eprived little princess, it might turn out to be an emotionally wild ride.  We'll see what temper tantrums we have to deal with!   For the rest of us, it's not too much different than the usual routine. Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Bessie.....a suitable foster Mom?

We may be taking in a foster calf.   We need to wean Ruby, whose teeth are getting a big dangerous for the health of Bessie's....um.....teats.  Blood on my hand during the milking the other day freaked me out until I realized it wasn't coming from me, and then I realized why poor Bess had been trying to kick my hand away.  Ruby's teeth are leaving neat little cut-marks on a very sensitive part of Bessie's anatomy! Anyway, the original thought was to wean Ruby, who is now 7 months old and NOT needing to nurse anymore, and put a new calf on Bessie to drink up all that fattening milk.  The new calf would probably have been a day old male dairy breed, because there isn't much use for them and they go for about $100 each.  We would buy one from a client of our vet, when there was a calf available.  He would be raised for beef, nothing else.  We'd have to name him Burger or Steak, or Jeremy's favorite French word to pronounce wrong:  Filet Mignon ("Fill It Mig Nun") The thought of those affectionate brown calf eyes getting to my heartstrings has me second-guessing whether we'd be emotionally stable in a year or so after loading a one-and-a-half-year old steer into a trailer and getting him back as freezer beef. Still, we need to wean Ruby, for Bessie's well-being, and there's all that milk that would dry up or need to be hand-milked, or.....could be put towards raising another calf. Honestly, the once-a-day milking is a wonderful concept, and I'm not too eager to give that up.  Putting another calf on Bessie would keep that morning milking going, but I wouldn't have to add the evening milking again.  Ugh!!! Another consideration:  One milk customer isn't able to keep ordering from us because of scheduling conflicts, so we're also going to have 2 gallons of extra milk a week. Strange, but the very next day after I got this news, I was talking to a farmer in South Barrington who has beef cattle, pigs, chickens, and (fairly recently) dairy cows.  A calf was born a few weeks back, and he would be willing to let us try to foster it and pay us a daily fee for doing it.  It would help him to keep most of his cows' milk going to his customers, it would help us to have a little extra cash-flow to cover some of the hay expenses, and it would help Bessie to have a much younger calf benefiting from her milk.  It would be good for the boys because they've both agreed to help to earn some of that money.  It would help us in the grocery department if we could work out a deal for some beef, pork, or even pork fat (to make lard) instead of being paid the full amount (yet to be decided).  It would actually help Ruby, too, if she graduated to hay and water and left the baby food behind, but she wouldn't agree with that!   The foster calf would stay for 3 or 4 months, and then be picked up to return to the farmer's beef herd (a dairy bull calf would be "banded" at that age, become a steer because he would then be missing the part of his anatomy that technically made him a "bull", and be raised with the beef herd to fill the growing demand for grass-raised beef in the Barrington area).   Some adjusting of things out in our cow-area would need to be done before this can happen, and stall/stanchion arrangements reinforced, with an area set up for Benny (the calf).  Makes the most sense to give Benny the stall that Ruby has been in, but that puts Ruby outside.  Still thinking through the logistics of how and where each cow will bed down at night.   So, the only question that remains (besides whether I'm crazy to even consider this in the middle of winter!) is whether Bessie (stubborn, Queenly Bessie-girl) would deign to let another cow's calf nurse from her poop-encrusted udder while Ruby wails in the background! The farmer and I will talk once more on Thursday, and if all seems to indicate a "Go", Benny will probably arrive this Saturday.  He is a Guernsey---rust-colored and white, I think, and probably about 100 pounds. Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Signs of Spring (?)

An e-mail from a magazine I'm subscribed to sent out a message with this same title, minus the question mark.   The signs of spring here are questionable, except for: The ducks are showing signs of wanting to make babies, after a quiet winter of leaving each other alone. One goose has started experimenting with making a nest and laying a huge egg every few days.  The gander has become more watchful, and is making a scritchy-scritchy ear-splitting noise as he guards the female.  He also is warding off the cats who just want to walk peacefully through the barn, and one barn kitty is missing a few tufts of orange hair on her back after getting into an angry tussle with him. Three chickens were fooled by the short warm spell, and are stubbornly and fiercely sitting on nests, even after I gather the eggs each day (other chickens are piling into the nest boxes with the die-hards, laying eggs that the broody hens then claim as their own).  They are so determined to hatch a brood that they let out a terrible screech when I walk past (to warn me away), fluff up ALL of their feathers, and do an Angry Bird imitation that makes me laugh.  Luckily, I'm wearing gloves as I gather eggs in the cold barn, and what would be furious pecks that bring blood only land on the fleece of the gloves instead!   On top of all that, all three have foolishly pulled out all of their breast feathers to line their nests, so if they decide to give up the cause of being winter-mamas, they will be chicken-sicles as the frigid air hits their bare skin.  ;( We're back to having Jeff and Michael haul 5 gallon buckets of water out to re-fill the cows' water trough again, after the relative luxury of being able to run water through a hose while the weather was up around the 50's a week or so ago. Rocky is entertaining himself these days with huge pieces of icicles that have fallen from the barn roof into the pasture area (icicles must be even more fun for a husky than running at full speed and scooping mouthfuls of snow as you run). And any melting snow that drips off the barn or house roof freezes again very quickly as it lands in the 5 gallon buckets meant to catch water run-off...... No, spring is not here just yet! Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

The passing of time, in cow-terms

I used to keep track of which day of the week it was by which TV show was on that night (Cosby was a favorite, back when the kids were small and each day with toddlers seemed to be the same schedule as the last, and when Chris was in Kindergarten, we HAD to keep track of days by when Thomas the Tank Engine was on PBS or not). Now:  I keep track of how time passes by when the cow was in heat last, and when she's supposed to be in heat again. Strange to think of things that way!  But here we are..... Monday: Time has flown.  Christmas was already 20 days ago. How do I know?   Bessie was "in heat" on Christmas Day.  I chose not to call the vet to come out to artificially inseminate (A.I.) her on that particular holiday.   A cow's "heat" cycle is 21 days.  Here we are, 20 days later, with me watching for signs, and calling the vet to come out tomorrow morning. Dr. Morrissey will check to see if, by any chance, she is showing false signs of fertility and might be pregnant from the last attempt in November  (wouldn't THAT be a miracle, if she was pregnant for the past 2 months and I just didn't know it!).  If she's not carrying a calf, she will be restrained in her milking stanchion for the vet to administer the stuff again.....and then we wait for 40 days for a pregnancy check, or go through the process again in 21 days if all the "signs" are right for another A.I. attempt. Did I mention that the bull who donated the "stuff" is/was named "Grayview Golddust"?  A regal name for a calf's daddy. Tuesday morning: No signs of heat.  The vet arrived, and did the internal check (sleeve up to shoulder), and Bess had ovulated from the right ovary already (meaning that it's too late to artificially inseminate her this time).  To the tune of $65 for the house call.  ;( But I always learn something when the vet is out. For instance:  Next time, the vet and I will both know that when signs of heat are even hinted at with "Bessie The Difficult", it needs to be acted on.  The vet's first thought yesterday when I called was that Bess should be inseminated that afternoon.  I hesitated and we set it up for this morning instead.  Next time, I'll be watching sooner and call at the first sign (not an easy thing to watch for, since Bess does not exhibit obvious signs of being fertile!) Good thing:  No sign of re-occurring cyst on the ovaries. Good thing:  If we want to wean Ruby (who is now a big, strapping heifer at 7 months old, but is still nursing regularly), we can wean her at any time.  Bessie will most likely allow her to nurse indefinitely.  It's nice to know that I don't need to milk Bess more than once a day if Ruby is still drinking everything after the morning's milkings, but there could be a reason to wean her (read on....) Good thing:  If we wean Ruby, there is an abundance of dairy steer calves which get sold as day-olds.  We could try to have Bessie adopt and nurse one as her own, or could use the extra milk that Ruby wouldn't be pigging out on to bottle-feed a steer calf (translation:  We'd be raising a male calf for the eventual trip to a butcher, to fill our freezer.  He probably wouldn't be more than 500 pounds by the time Bessie would have a calf, but we'd need to decide then if we would be raising him past that point.  More meat at 1 1/2 years, but lots more hay would go into feeding him!).  Still not sure if I could actually do this (bringing chickens to the butcher is one thing.  Bringing a large mammal who we would all have grown fond of?  Much more difficult to think of!) Good thing:  Bessie wasn't freaked out by being left tied up to the stanchion this morning, which has me thinking even more about setting up "tie-stalls" for both Bessie and Ruby to be confined in at night.  They would come in for a small amount of grain and some tasty alfalfa hay, their halters would be clipped onto a short "lead" (like a short dog leash, but stronger) which would keep them in one place during the night.  Bessie is consistently warming her udder in fresh manure, and having her in a tie-stall would keep some of that muckiness off of the udder that needs to be clean before I can milk her every morning. Plus, Ruby is big enough that she is straining the sides of her stall when she tries to turn around in it, and she should learn to walk in, be attached to the lead, and back out, rather than turning circles. Bad thing:  There is now no chance of Bessie delivering a calf this coming September/October, which would have been the reason to try for a "dry" period (no milking) during August.  A dairy cow isn't milked during the last 2 months of her pregnancy.  We were hoping that we could find a farm-sitter so that we could take a family vacation to Yellowstone in late July/August 2013, but were thinking that it would be best if the dry period coincided with having someone staying here.  Oh well..... Despite not getting her bred, it was a good visit.  I know more than I did before.  It all goes towards the learning experience, and thankfully, the vet is always willing to educate as I ask all of my bumbling questions. The countdown of the next 20 days begins.....!  Hopefully, by not counting the standard 21 days, we'll catch the "heat" before ovulation happens and a calf could be the reward for that watchfulness.   On that happy note, have a great day, everyone!  ;) Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Identity theft..... is IMPOSSIBLE!

(Sunday): There is a TV set up in the living room.  At first, it was nice (the old TV had stopped receiving channels and could only be used for game-playing).  TV could be watched in the house again, not only in Jeff's nicely-set-up but very cold man-cave above the garage. Football games could be watched  (the TV was brought in for the Thanksgiving Day game--Detroit lost...really no need to point that out, I guess, except that they had a chance this time around.).  Movies on TV could be viewed.  America's Funniest Videos and Survivor could be watched.  But now we're being sucked back into the bad habit of watching for the sake of watching, wasting time, turning on the TV to see what is in store to take our minds away from what needs to be done, not accomplishing things here that need doing. We were watching TV last week, and my stress level was going up.   A certain low-budget channel kept airing ads for preventing identity theft.  They are ads that play to your fears--anyone could have their identity stolen, at any time, in any way.....you could be next!  BEWARE.....Beware.....beware.....! After suspecting that a farm insurance lady who came to the house months ago had gotten too much information from me (and had been on my computer when I left the room!!!), this is a scary topic for me.  I had willingly given more information than was prudent, because I am too trusting.  She may have been totally honest herself, but when I lay awake one night going over all the info that I'd given without thinking twice, I started feeling panicky.  (To date, nothing has gone wrong, suffice it to say). The ads warned:  Stolen identity.....wiped out bank accounts.....problems getting a loan......maxed out credit cards......theft and dishonesty in the grandest sense of the terms....all threats that were meant to scare you into getting protection from "losing" your identity to an identity thief. Then, a program on the radio in the barn a few days later about the same thing, but from a more down-to-earth point of view (less scare tactics, more common sense.) And today, it all falls into place in a much less stressful way. The sermon was "Identity Means Everything".  The reading was Luke 3:15-22:  The Jews were wondering if John the Baptist might be the Messiah they'd been waiting for.   In verse 21:  Jesus was baptized with the rest of the people, and the Holy Spirit descended on Him like a dove, and the voice from heaven said specifically "You are my Son."  Jesus was directly identified as God's Son, and God told Jesus that he was pleased with him. Our identity was spoken about as well in the sermon, based on the verse that John spoke:  "(Jesus) will gather the wheat into his barn.....the chaff will be burned."   (paraphrased)  Wheat is valuable. "Chaff" is the byproduct of harvesting wheat: the hulls, the stuff that blows away and does not have substance and is not valuable for replanting or for food production or anything else (except for the compost pile or the bonfire!)  Are we the wheat or the chaff?  Are we productive for the kingdom of God or are we wasting time and not accomplishing anything of value?  Those questions were asked by Pastor Warren in the course of the sermon. And the Old Testament reading pulled it all together for me and gave me a sense of incredible peace after a week of sub-conscious stress.  This is one more sign of God's timing and plan, because the Isaiah passage was included in the earlier services this past weekend, but was not read "officially" in the contemporary service until the end, when Pastor Warren read it, almost as an afterthought as the sermon was coming to a close:  Isaiah 43:1-7  "This is what the Lord says.....:  'Fear not, for I have redeemed you;  I have called you by name; you are mine'......" Well, there's our true identity.  Not social security numbers, or bank accounts, or passwords on the internet, or phone numbers, or the "casual information given to the wrong person" (words from the scare-tactic TV ads). No-one can steal our identity.  Worst case scenarios (from the ads!):  Your life savings might be wiped out, or you might be denied the loan that you applied for, or you may have someone else in the world trying to use your social security number/passport/credit cards. Potential worst-case scenario for us right now:  Farm insurance lady gets too much information from trusting woman and uses it for ill-gotten gain..... However, if God created us and calls each of us by name, what identity really matters other than that?!!!    No damage that might be done by someone who has unrightful possession of my earthly identity information can affect the identity given to me by God!   God created ME and calls ME by name.  My true identity is secure.  And with that, an incredible sense of peace settles in. Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Wish list thoughts

On the trash-picker's wish-list: Wish list item #1:   5 gallon buckets, to easily catch rain run-off from the roofs and use it for plants or animals. Wish list item #2: 55 gallon barrels, to use wherever possible to catch rain run-off (no gutters on any of our buildings' roofs) or to store water from 5 gallon buckets.   Wish list item #3: Metal trash cans with lids.  Doesn't matter if they're dented or don't look nice.  This would be to keep chicken or cow feed safe from nibbling varmints.....or destructive geese! With the rain, and separately, a large load of feed from the mill, there are a few wish list items that stand out in my mind. Buckets/Barrels:  We put out every one of our 5 gallon buckets under the barn drip line, and each was filled to overflowing with the rain last night.  They can't stay full and need to be emptied somewhere where the water can be stored, with the winter freeze coming in a couple of days, but it got me to thinking about spring and summer (with last year's drought in mind, and wanting to conserve as much rainwater as possible).  I would have had our two 55 gallon barrels under the drip-line, but they are in the barn storing water for the chickens!  55 gallon barrels can be converted to rain barrels with a spigot and a hose hook-up, making it really economical to catch as much rain as possible when the weather warms up, and use it on gardens or to water the animals instead of using the hose.   And....the large load of bagged feed was delivered and needed to be kept from the geese and their Attention-Deficit way of dealing with things.  I stacked hay, two bales high, to make a little room to keep the birds away from the feed bags, and covered it with a tarp.  Last time I got feed, I stacked it like usual, but.....the geese (and the rest of the birds) are in the barn for the winter and not nibbling at things outside.  The bored geese found out that the zip-strings at the top of the feed bags could be ever-so-much-fun to nibble, and the feed would start spilling out.  The barricade of hay makes a tiny "room" for the feed, but that creates a rodent-heaven.  All a mouse, shrew or rat would have to do is get past the geese or cats that are at large in the barn, hunker down at the bottom of the blocked-off area where they cats and geese can't get after them, and they can have a never-ending feast!  Metal trash cans would be the ideal way to keep things out of the chicken feed (my 5 metal trash cans are all filled with grain/mineral supplement for the cows, rabbit food, or cat food) Like usual, I'm only putting this out there in the hope that someone else's trash could be put to use here.  It's a trash-picker's wish list, certainly not anything urgent.  :) Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Rocky's wolf/dog nature

Photo:  Rocky, a few weeks ago, with the "I dare you to take it away from me" stare Rocky showed his true colors today.  We had a chicken die yesterday.  She had been through the respiratory sickness during the summer, and the stress of winter cold was too much for her.  The symptoms flared up again and she died.  It will happen numerous times with numerous chickens before we get to spring..... We also had an abundance of paper feed sacks, cardboard boxes, magazines, old mail, the stump from the bottom half of our Christmas tree and lots of branches trimmed off of other trees. Put those things together, and you get the makings for a bonfire.  Chris and Jeremy braved the cold and set up a bonfire, with the dead bird in the middle.  It took a douse of gasoline to get the pile lit, but then it was spectacular. It bears mentioning that the fire-pit is in the center of the pasture, and that's where the dogs run in the mornings.  They have both pulled chicken remains out of the ashes before, once becoming nearly deathly-ill from eating that very decomposing thing. Rocky pulled a charred mound of chicken out of the fire-pit this morning.  I saw him snacking on it while I took care of other things.  I thought he'd finished it when I had time to go out and check, but he was acting strangely as it came time to call him in.  He did the usual eager rat-hunt with me after I milked the cows, but he kept going back to a shrubby evergreen that he usually doesn't pay any attention to.   He didn't want to come back to the house with me, but hung around under the white pines, looking awkward and rather sneaky. Shadow is still recovering from her spinal trauma of last week, but she needed to be let out in familiar "bathroom" territory to do her business.   Rocky gave away his secret then.  He took one look at Shadow and me walking towards the pasture gate, and dashed back to the evergreen bush.  He threw himself headlong underneath it and emerged with a blackened chunk of something--the remains of the chicken! In true wolf fashion, he'd played with it, eaten some of it, and then stored the rest away for later.  And, in true wolf fashion, he was now protecting it from Shadow (and me). I debated--do I take it away from him?  Normally I challenge him right back when he fixes me with that "I dare you to take it away" stare.  He certainly needed to re-learn that lesson. But my attention really needed to be on Shadow, and whether she was able to do her business after 4 days of passing only liquids. Rocky, acting like a wolf, "wolfed" down the sizeable chunk of chicken, bones and all, while keeping a watchful eye on me and growling under his breath in the direction of Shadow, who didn't care one bit about what he was doing. A little later, he was heaving violently, still out in the pasture. And then, he was perched on top of the evergreen bush, whining loudly and insistently to be brought in. Here's where he made a dog-worthy mistake rather than a wolf-style decision that cost him a day of potential freedom: He slipped his collar as I stopped to latch the gate.  He dashed off in a joyful puppy run....and ran straight to the picnic table on the back porch area, where he spends every morning in regal glory, surveying his domain (not to mention that he is usually attached to the dog-cable which keeps him where he is supposed to be).  No running for miles and miles like a wolf (or a husky?) would do, no chasing rabbits or tracking varmints, not even a playful dash at a yowling barn cat.  No, he CHOSE to settle onto the picnic table, even without the dog cable keeping him there. Stupid dog.  He knows the routine--and he loves the routine.  He was supposed to be on that picnic table, and that's where he was content to be, rumbly tummy or not! Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Cow anniversary!

Photos:  Unnamed cows at the farm by Davenport (Lucy is the smaller calf to the right in one photo, Bessie is the one I'm standing next to in one photo), and now-named cows Bessie and Lucy later at our small farm Life on the farm for 6 short months in 2011 was already a whirlwind of learning, mistakes, and hopefulness.  Enter two Dutch Belted cows, and the adventure reached roller-coaster status! It's been one year since the cows arrived.   They came from an organic dairy near Davenport, at the end of an unseasonably warm spell last December/January, just before a huge snowstorm hit. The two girls were unnamed at that point, one being a 6 month old heifer (young female), one being a 7 year old pregnant Dutch Belted cow.   We had seen them 2 weeks earlier after a 3 hour drive, .  The heifer we saw from one side of a fence, about 50 yards away.  She was pointed out by the farmer along with several other young heifers.  We chose her because she had the classic Dutch Belted markings, not because we bonded with her or anything like that.  I didn't touch her, didn't pet her, nothing like adopting an animal from a pet rescue....there was no bonding between prospective cow owners and new cow.  We saw her and discussed which one we wanted, that was all. In another area where the milk cows were eating (in almost knee-deep winter-time manure), I got close to the pregnant cow before she backed away and into the herd, so that I couldn't get a really good look at her.  Her markings were classic Dutch Belted, and she had paperwork to prove that she was registered with the breed association as 75% purebred--meaning that there was value in this cow as far as the hope of producing higher percentage DB calves in the future and getting them registered. The older cow was accustomed to being machine-milked, and all we had to go on for hand-milking potential was that the farmer thought this cow would work for what we wanted.  She'd never been hand-milked, never been handled except for the routine of machine-milking.  No wonder she melted back into the herd when a strange woman walked up to her and tried to pet her! The farmer has been fondly called Farmer Bob in this blog.  He was so much fun to talk to, very honest, very forthright in answering all of my starry-eyed questions.  A wiser or more experienced cow-person probably would have asked to see a few more cows, and chosen a better one, or chosen the beautiful red Dutch Belted cow "with an attitude" (come to find out, all cows have attitude.....).  I heard what Farmer Bob was telling me (a history of mastitis, one quarter of her udder which might be better "dried up" because of scarring from past mastitis episodes, a calf born in July and low milk production after that, etc, etc, etc) and didn't really know what that might mean in the long run.  I wanted her!  Whether she had shrunk back from me or not, I had already chosen her (Pikachu!  I choose you!....for young minds with video-game knowledge.)   I wanted to see the cows again, up close, to check them over, to at least try to hand-milk the bigger cow, but the travel time, gas prices and distance made that impossible.  We had to trust that these 2 cows would be fine once they got to our little farm. The man who drove to get them was Dan.  Dan arrived at their home and found that the young one hadn't been moved out of the pasture yet.  He had to join the farmer in chasing her all over until they could get her corralled and into the trailer.  We've had to chase cows around our very small pasture--I'm not sure how I would have fared if the first thing I had to do with OUR new cow was to chase her!  Dan is a cattle man, so at least he knew how to work with Farmer Bob without getting in the way.  :) Not sure how it went with getting the pregnant cow into the trailer--the story about the heifer must have topped anything that happened with the older girl! Dan got them to our place just as it was getting dark and the cold front was moving in.  He backed up as close to the livestock gate as he could get, but still, we had to head off the heifer as she leaped out of the back of the trailer.  The big cow was even more determined to make a break for it, and Dan expertly stood in her path without looking threatening, until she decided that the open gate looked more promising than the direct path into the surrounding fields (where she would have been free, free, free!) Dan helped me as I tried to do what the farmer made sure I knew was necessary:  "Milk the cow when she gets to your place or she might develop mastitis!"  She was so freaked out that she pushed her way out through the hanging barn door as she took off into the blackness of the pasture. Dan moved a big rock in place as a gate-stopper, gave me a few tips for cow-care, said goodbye, and wished me luck.  He must have been shaking his head in disbelief as he drove away! By this time, there were two big black and white shapes walking along the fence, LEANING against the fence because they didn't know the layout of the new pasture, and finally coming to rest against the fence at the very far edge of the pasture.  I had a moment of panic, wondering if the great livestock fence that brother-in-law Russ had put up would be strong enough for cows (not part of the original plan when the fence was installed!).  I had not put electric fencing up yet, but that would have been a sensible thing to do BEFORE cows arrived!   Jeff was out of town (England, for business, I think). Chris had gotten Michael from basketball practice so that I could be home for the cow-delivery. Jeremy had been watching all of the craziness from a tree. Shadow was barking at the unfamiliar murky black shapes in the distance. I was shaking with nervous energy and stress.   So, one year ago, the cows (soon to be named Bessie and Lucy) were here, somewhat lost in the darkness of the one-acre pasture, unmilked, unfed, unwatered, and all I could do was pray that they didn't bust through the fence before morning and earn us the unwanted title of "those crazy people from Palatine who THOUGHT they should try farming". Or even worse, the reputation of being incompetent, uninformed farmer-wanna-be newcomers whose cows escaped on the first night!  The next day, Bessie and Lucy were still there, inside the fence, looking a bit unsure of where they were and looking MUCH bigger than I remembered.  Time for the cow adventure to begin! Thanks, everyone, for reading along and experiencing it with us!  ;) Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Pet Crises

Photos:  Shadow with baby Ruby (July 2012) and Shadow with baby Rocky (July 2011), in better days We've had 2 close calls this past week with pets.   First, on the day before we were scheduled to drive 2 hours into Wisconsin and come back later the same day, our black cat Sly didn't come running for his food at night.  He'd just been nestled on my lap and Jeff's as we watched the movie Despicable Me (yes, this cat can worm his way onto not just one, but two laps at one time).  But when it came time for food before bedtime, only one black cat was there, and Sly didn't show up.  Sly NEVER misses a meal, which would account for that huge bulk that can puddle across two laps........ The next morning, Chris woke up as Sly unceremoniously threw up on sheets and blankets that Chris was sound asleep underneath.  Jeremy chimed in that there was cat vomit on the edge of the couch.  I went to find him, and he was huddled in a tight ball on the fuzzy bathroom rug, eyes dilated, stomach distended, very lethargic.  He was acting like the barn kitty was acting a few months back, when he had an obstruction and couldn't pee (they can quickly become deathly ill).  The barn cat Spartan would have died if we didn't dash him to the vet. We debated, do we rush this sick cat to the vet or do we stick with our plans to visit grandparents and relatives who we see less and less as the years go on. We went to Wisconsin, knowing that we might come back to an emergency veterinary case.   On the other hand, this cat has been through something like this before (without being rushed to a vet) and lived to use another of his 9 lives, so we weren't as cold-hearted as it may seem. Happy to tell you, Sly the cat was "dribbling" all over the bathroom by the time we got home (gross, but it was a good sign--meaning that if there was an obstruction, it had given way), and by the next morning, he was ready to eat a can of clams and juice (he needed to rehydrate, and there was a lot of juice in that can).  Next, he became fiesty enough to try to dash out of the bathroom where he'd been closed in, and after about an hour, he slipped out the door to go outside, which he had not been doing for a few days.   Sly the cat seems to have made a full recovery, in my untrained opinion. Let's see.....Sly first seemed "out of it" on Tuesday night, was shut in the bathroom all of Wednesday and that night as well, and made his miraculous recovery on Thursday morning. Thursday, Shadow the lab mix and Rocky the husky were taken out for a run and bathroom break in the pasture around 4:30 in the afternoon.  Nothing unusual to report. By dinner time, Shadow was looking uncomfortable, and not lying in a position that looked normal.   When Jeff took her out on the leash an hour later, she had a little trouble getting her back end off the floor to go out. When I took her out much later, her back legs seemed to be on autopilot, and her tail was hanging limp.  Her front legs were at an odd angle, like her front shoulders were doing all the work for her whole body. We poked, prodded, checked different things on her, and I debated whether it was enough of an emergency to take her to the 24 hour emergency vet. We decided to wait and let her rest until morning, to see if it was sore or strained muscles or some other thing.  It seemed apparent that the normal body-slamming and rough-play that Rocky liked to do may have caught Shadow off-balance and caused her to twist or land wrong. I heard her whimpering during the night, but she stopped as soon as I came into the kitchen.  Her back legs were dragging again as I took her outside to relieve herself (around 4 am.) Thursday morning, on taking her out, her back legs could hardly hold her up.  Each back paw made a drag-mark through the snow as we walked.  She could hardly manage to hold herself up as she tried to pee....Our previously vibrant Shadow was walking like a much older dog, in fact, it was like walking our old 13-year-old dog Clara on the last time around the block before we brought her to the vet to be put to sleep.  :(  Not a good sign..... When I brought her back in, her legs barely carried her up the 2 stairs and into the house. But yet she couldn't collapse on the floor because her whole body trembled as she tried to ease herself down from standing.  I called the vet. All day, we tried just to make her comfortable, giving her the biggest dog crate to rest in, keeping Rocky from pushing up against her and making her lose her balance, and just trying to keep her calm. The vet watched her walk, checked out a few things, took and X-ray, asked some questions, and determined that she has something degenerative about her spine.  She has a "spinal cord trauma" right now.  It's not because Rocky body-slammed her, but that may have been what caused the injury to happen now.  Her discs or vertebrae show degeneration, for whatever reason, and it could have been anything that caused the vertebrae to come up against or too close to her spinal cord. He gave her a muscle-relaxant shot, and sent me home with instructions and medication. She finally ate something when we got home, maybe because the pain was relieved somewhat?  She seemed more like herself, except for the dragging tail that is usually arched over her back and wagging exuberantly. Now we're trying to keep her comfortable again, and keep Rocky separated from her.  She didn't eat anything this morning, and that meant that she was also refusing the medicine that was crushed up in her hamburger and rice special dish.  She seemed miserable, and was crying again last night until I came into the kitchen.  She is a very "stoic" dog--making sure not to show any sign of weakness when we are around. The vet had said to watch for a total collapse.  If she couldn't get herself up off the floor we were to consider it an extreme emergency and rush her to the vet's office or an emergency clinic.  She needed that medication so that she could function and so that her body could try to repair itself.   The two choices were extreme, too, if she couldn't get up:  She would need immediate surgery to relieve the pressure on her spinal cord, to the tune of $2000-$3,000, or would need to be put down.  I cried a few times as I watched her refusing to eat, and saw her lying miserably in the crate.... Jeff bought a case of canned cat food, and another batch of medicine was crushed up and mixed in with that.  It did the trick, and she hobbled over and wolfed down the whole thing, then dug in to eating a fresh batch of hamburger/rice.  With the medicine in her system, things don't seem so bleak.  She walked on the leash without dragging so much, and even led the way to areas of the yard where we don't normally bother to walk the dogs.  She still seems to be in pain, and doesn't want to lie down once she's on all 4 feet.  But she effectively held Rocky off when there was a dish of dog kibble that had duck broth on it, and he didn't challenge her.   She is resting comfortably now, and will get more cat food with medication this evening. If it comes down to surgery, we probably will have to choose euthanasia instead.  Even if surgery corrected the problem for now, life on a farm will be difficult for a dog with a bad back.  Life on a farm with a body-slamming husky would be nearly impossible for her.   We've always said that we would need to refuse to spend a large amount of money to keep a pet alive.  Realistically, that large amount of money would just be the beginning of keeping a dog functioning with a degenerative back or bad discs.  It could pay for private school tuition for a good part of a year.  It could pay for lots of repairs needed here on the farm.  But we might be faced with that very decision, very soon, unless there is another miraculous recovery in the future of this little farm.   I thought, when Sly was sick, that I might be better able to deal with the death of a pet than I would have been, say, 5 years ago.  We've seen chickens die, we've gotten used to taking them to the butcher even if we liked them, we've had to kill coons and mice and had to "sic" the dogs on rats.  Losing 4 rabbits over the course of half a year was hard, but I thought I might be getting hardened to it all.  Seeing Sly sick, I was sad, but thought it was potentially "one more death", even if I didn't want to see him gone.  He's a good cat, a good mouser, and a loving cat that pushes his way onto your lap whether you're in the mood to be friendly with him or not.  I'd miss him, but didn't think I'd be devastated if he was gone. But seeing Shadow hurting, I know that won't be true with her.  It would be heart-rending to say goodbye to her, even if it was "all for the best". Let's pray that she makes as much of a miraculous recovery as Sly did. Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Bessie on Christmas

Of all days..... The vet wanted to be called if Bessie (who WAS artificially inseminated/bred 5 weeks ago) seemed to go into heat (meaning that she is most likely not pregnant but needs to be bred again). I noticed the symptoms on the 4th (2 weeks after the breeding), and again on, of all days, Christmas Day.  That's a perfect cycle for a dairy cow--21 days between times when they can become pregnant.   Not perfect:  the timing of the cycle on a major holiday! I was NOT going to call the vet to come out and "sleeve" our cow on Christmas Day.  I let him know what the situation was by way of e-mail, making it clear that it wasn't urgent and that we would wait until January. Bessie's fertility history, since she's been here:   She gave birth in July.  A normal dairy cow is re-bred within 3 months of giving birth.   We didn't try to have her bred until late November (almost 6 months later).  She didn't seem to be coming into "heat" during that entire time, even though the heifer Lucy was in obvious cycles and became pregnant on the first artificial insemination attempt.   When the vet came to give the calf and Bessie their shots (Bessie had never been vaccinated at the organic dairy), he checked for how close to "heat" she was and announced "Well, this is why she isn't cycling!  She has a cyst on her ovary!".  And we proceeded to do a round of shots (2 of them administered by me) to eliminate the cyst and bring her into heat for an attempt at breeding.   That was over 5 weeks ago.   So, potentially a heat cycle 3 weeks and a few days back, another cycle culminating on Christmas, and now we wait until January 15..... The vet's comment when he called me to chat about the e-mail?  "Well, we're finding out more and more why you got this cow for such a bargain price".  Precisely the sentiment of our friend Myles when we announced the whole cyst scenario at the beginning of November! Let's see:  The farmer told me that she had a history of mastitis, and was upfront about the fact that her mastitis (infection of the udder) quite often meant that her milk would not be used for sale, but would be fed to the calves instead. When I was talking to Farmer Bob later about the Dutch Belted "breeding up" program, he did tell me that she wasn't one of his "best" cows He told me that she had given birth to her 2010 calf in the heat of summer and wasn't ever able to bring up her milk production to make her "profitable" So....I knew she was no gem of a dairy cow, and now she's proving to be a bit difficult to potentially get pregnant. One good thing:  She was a cow with a history of mastitis, probably made worse by being on a milking-machine schedule and not a continuous-nursing schedule, and made even worse by coming to our farm where I didn't know how to hand-milk her (and where she didn't want to cooperate for several days!).  Having a calf drinking on-demand from this particular cow for 7 months has resulted in NO flare-up of the mastitis.   I wonder if we'll discover something redeeming about her in regards to getting pregnant, too? If nothing else, she's been a good learning experience for all of us, if only because it's been a total crash-course in how to handle a cow and what to expect..... Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/