Owls

After coming out of the barn later than usual last night, I heard two distinctly different owl "hoots", back and forth, coming from the white pine grove out in the pasture.  One would call, then the other, sometimes in a rhythm, sometimes kind of random.  

I stood very still and listened for quite a while before noticing that Sly (the indoor-outdoor black cat) was a bit antsy to get back inside....

Took Rocky (the husky) out and put him on the dog cable.  He trotted to the end of it and sat down, ears up, alert, watching and listening.   I could imagine the same scenario in the arctic;  owls hooting in the tree, a wolf or husky perking up his ears to listen, owls hunting or watching for a scurrying rodent or leaping rabbit.  

I had a fleeting thought about putting an owl perch inside the cow-shelter, so that the owls could swoop in, roost and watch, and nab rat after rat as they come out of the barn's woodwork every night!  (Ha!)

 

The owls continued their soft calls for a while, then made 3 squawking noises and were quiet.

  

The recorded calls on the bird sites on-line tell me that there were two great horned owls out there.  I've heard them before, but not two in the same area, calling to each other.  Very cool.

 

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Christmas is over.....

Well, we all know it.

But our sad excuse for a Christmas tree didn't.....

Until it crashed to the ground this afternoon, just 24 hours after being the crowing glory of our Christmas celebration.  

(I'm making it sound much more glamorous that it was.  It's final decorated layer couldn't hide the fact that it curled and drooped like a tree out of Dr. Seuss story book.  And the angel at the top was trying to leap off, presumably to a location with a bit more stability.  But it was free....that has to count for something!)

The tree leaned.  And gravity took it's toll.

I can't quite tackle taking all the ornaments off of it today, though.  Not that there isn't plenty of time.  Jeff and Jeremy are half-way to Atlanta, and Michael is at a friend's house.  I could easily rip the whole tree apart so that Michael and I could drag it out to the burn pile tomorrow morning.  Ornaments could be packed away, even the Christmas decorations around the living room could be packed in the time that I have available.  

It's just that special ornaments were broken, and Christmas was just yesterday, and it's like admitting defeat to take the tree apart this evening, even though it's only propped in the corner and looking rather ridiculous.

It's too soon.

So, in the same room where the dilapidated tree will be staring me in the face, I intend to wrap up in a snug blanket on the couch, put in a movie, and enjoy my quiet evening.  

We usually leave the tree up for most of January, turning the lights on when we need a cheerful glow in the winter gloom, until the continual shower of dead needles says "enough".  This year, the tree had other plans.

 

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Ruby's send-off

Photos:  Day one, just born; looking cute with new halter; getting big; opinionated girl; and kisses between Bessie and her daughter

Charming is still here.  That wasn't in the plans.  And of course, Bessie and her calf Caspian.  They aren't going anywhere.  

Ruby was picked up today.  We're down to three.  

For the first time since cows arrived in January 2012, we don't have a heifer (a female cow which hasn't had a calf yet).  First there was Lucy, who moved to Ohio.  Then it was Bessie's own daughter, Ruby, who is en route to her new home.  No heifer means that it will be more difficult to guess the timing for breeding Bessie (female cows are fairly reliable in their reactions to another female in heat, which is when you call the vet for the artificial insemination)  Fun facts to know, but important for what we're doing here. 

Ruby is now on her way to North Carolina.  We sent her off with apples offered through the trailer window just before she left---some from us (the old owners) and some from the new family, a nice symbolic transition, I'd like to think.

Despite a snowstorm with travel advisories, despite the gates being frozen shut and needing to be shoveled out, despite the flat tire and trouble with trailer lights on their way out here, Ruby left our farm today in a roomy trailer for her new home.  Strange to think that, even as soon as the trailer pulled into our driveway from the livestock gated area, she was farther into the big wide world than she'd been in her whole life......

Her new owner first saw her and the typical reaction to seeing Ruby was the same as some of you have said:  "Wow!  She's pretty big!"  But she talked to Ruby, went up close and didn't give an inch when Ruby rolled her eyes and tried to back away.  That's probably what I should have done all along.  Instead of chalking it up to "cow attitude", I could have persevered and taught that heifer to stand still and like it.  But that would mean letting Bessie's cow attitude prevail instead, and I had to choose one to train and the other to raise, when I think back on it.  I needed a good working relationship with Bessie.  I needed Ruby to respect me, but we weren't to the "working" part of it yet.

So here are some memories of Ruby's growing-up years here.  

We expected her to arrive in June of 2012, sometime (anytime?), just 5 months after her mother and another heifer came to our farm.  We waited, and waited, and then a heat wave and drought struck, and then it was the 4th of July and no longer June, and then.....I called the vet to come out and check her mother Bessie on the morning of July 6.  Ruby was ready to be born, and sure enough, the vet declared that it would only be a few hours.  

I stood and watched in wonder, ready to step in (not knowing exactly what I would do), but Bessie was a champ and needed no help.  

Jeremy's first comment on seeing wet, tiny helpless Ruby was that she looked like a goat.  

She wasn't helpless for long, though, and within an hour was up, tottering around on stilty legs, nursing, and then trying in vain to scamper.

Her favorite thing was nursing from Bessie, but the FUN thing that nothing else could beat was running in the pasture with Lucy, the other heifer.  They spent hours kicking their heels up, dashing from one end of the pasture to the other, tails kinked in the air or ducking their heads as they crashed under the low-hanging branches of the white pine groves.  Lucy was the favorite aunt, while Bessie was the over-protective parent.  

One of the funniest things we'll remember?  Her long giraffe tongue.  If you came towards her with an apple or treat, she would reach her tongue out through the fence and try to feel her way to the treat in your hand (she did this when her new owner offered her an apple in the trailer today.)  That long tongue meant that the low-hanging branches in the pasture were stripped bare of any leaves for 2 summers.  I wonder if the tree-trimming will be continued by Caspian, if he's here that long?

One of the loudest things we'll remember?  Her bellow.  When she was in heat, when she thought she could demand yet another pumpkin, when we were mowing the grass, when we pulled in to the driveway.  When she heard me inside the barn at night, tucking in the other animals, and she thought she needed more hay.  When the water trough ran dry and she thought she needed to trumpet her disgust at our thoughtlessness to the farming community.

I suppose she wasn't too much louder than any other dairy heifer, but her mama is much quieter, so Ruby sounded like a beast gone wild sometimes compared to Bessie's soft "moo".

The most precious things?  When she would come up to us in the pasture, or stick her head in the way as we tried to smash open a pumpkin for her to eat, or poked her whole head through the hole in the barn wall as I tried to feed her, or stood stock-still to be brushed.  She loved-loved-LOVED to be brushed.

Something annoying?  How she would come running towards me and I'd need to have my hand up in the sign "STOP", wondering if I'd need to use that same hand to smack her on the forehead for cutting it too close.  Once, there was an ice slick between where I was standing and her path towards me.  She saw my hand go up, slipped and went down, and slid right up to the edge of that ice slick.  Neither of us was hurt, and she got up and acted as "I meant to do that."  No, on second thought, that was kind of endearing after all.  

What I won't miss?  Having two grown female cows in a small enclosed area, when one of them is in heat.  I think my life may have been in danger (exaggeration) a few times as they did their keep-a-way-from-each-other dance while I dodged hooves or stayed out from between them.  Or the seemingly enormous amount of feed that two adult cows go through.  Or the way she pushed Charming around when she wanted the pumpkin all to herself.  Or how she wanted milk so badly sometimes that we finally had to tether her inside of the stall at night so she couldn't escape (not her fault--we built the sides too low).

What I WILL miss?  Her pretty face, the white spot on her forehead, her tiny little heifer-sized udder, how sleek and beautiful she is, and seeing her blossom into a mama cow with an adorable baby to care for.  

We knew from the beginning that we couldn't keep her, but if we'd had even 3 more acres, we could have tried......it just wasn't meant to be and this is a happy kind of sad, even though there are tears in my eyes.

She's going to a farm where she'll be taken care of, where they value the Dutch Belted breed and want to help preserve it, where she will probably be given better care than if she'd stayed here with me.  

My heart belongs to Bessie when it comes right down to it (at least as far as cows are concerned), and Ruby needs to have someone caring for her and training her in the way I can only do with one cow.  I could train her, I could work with her, I could put in hours getting her used to the stanchion and handling her and preparing her to be a family milk cow.  But she'd still be moved on to someone else's farm after all that extra time.  Think of all the projects that I should be working on, which would be put aside to do the right thing for this heifer!

For me, Bessie is "it".  For Ruby's new family, she had a place in their hearts from before they even saw her photo.  We loved Ruby, and it was time to let someone else take over what we started, so they can love her too.

Dear opinionated Ruby, 

I hope that you go on to have a wonderful life with lots of belted calf babies and years of milking and plenty of care and love.  Your Christmas present this year is a new farm, with a family who already loves you.  And know that you'll be missed back here on this tiny farm where you were our very first calf.  You'll always hold a special place in our hearts.

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Just in time for Christmas....

A couple of things happening today.

The babydoll ewes, Iris and April, will be saying goodbye to their little pal Mae who has been staying with us while the rest of her herd was bred, and saying hello to a big strapping black ram, JJ who is done with his work at the farm where Mae belongs.  With any luck, he'll make a few babies with our ladies over Christmas break and head back to his farm in about 3 weeks.  I think that puts our potential spring lambs arriving sometime in May, although  I'm not positive about gestation in sheep.

Iris and April get a boyfriend, just in time for Christmas.

And Bessie does have mastitis.  By last night, the back left quarter was swollen and inflamed.  The others seemed fine.  The little calf wasn't nursing all day, so the mastitis wasn't kept in check (meaning, the growing infection wasn't being sucked out whenever he wanted a sip of milk), and the medication may have started healing that quarter with the side effect of breaking up the infection and making it clumpy as it works its way out in the milk.  

I'll call the vet today sometime, after milking her (and discarding the milk.  Sad to see it wasted!)

When we first got her, that same quarter is the one the farmer pointed out as being scarred by past bouts of mastitis.  It's the same quarter that has flared up first in other times.  It's the quarter that the vet and I have talked about "killing", meaning---it keeps causing a problem, and might be better to take it out of milk production completely, leaving Bessie with 3 functioning quarters and a much healthier udder, overall.  It wouldn't be surgically removed, but would be treated so that no milk can be produced by that quarter, which in turn means that it can't become infected with mastitis and can't be the Garden of Eden for the bacteria to grow and flourish and transfer to the healthy quarters.  

So, that wonderful conversation will take place today if the vet has time to talk me through the options.  My guess is that he'll want to send the frozen milk sample out before taking such drastic action.

I can see it now:  The January vet visit.  Little Caspian will be disbudded (his horn nubs will be burned so that they can't grow), castrated (self-explanatory) and his mama will be treated to kill the milk-producing function in one quarter of her udder.  Very pleasant.  

The vet knows what he's doing, and knows what is best for these cows, so I will rely on his wisdom in suggesting what to do about Bessie's mastitis.  For poor Caspian, the agonizing day is happening, unless by some miracle someone wants to raise him as their herd-sire, which would at least spare him the loss of his unmentionables, but the potential horns being destroyed before they grow is non-negotiable......

Lovely thoughts as I go out to see just how Bessie is doing this morning.  

Just in time for Christmas.

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

PS:  Didn't send this before milking Bessie.  

Good news:  the clumpiness is making its way out of the infected quarter.  

Bad news:  It's kind of gross. 

Imagine liquid flowing smoothly through a round straw that you've curled your hand around.  Then imagine the round straw has  bits of stringy or clotted matter trying to "flow" along with the liquid and stopping things up now and again until they are forced out.  

Kind of like we used to do as kids with a straw and playdough.  We'd jab the end of the straw into the soft playdough, until there were little globs of colored goo stopping up the straw.  Then you'd need to use extra force to squeeze out the playdough "worm" from the inside of the straw.  That gives you an idea of what it feels like to hand-milk a cow's quarter with an infection raging inside of it, or of milking a quarter which is being treated and the infection is breaking up and needing to be flushed out.  

Bleah!  But it's progress!  And Bessie munched calmly through the entire milking.  Good girl!

What to do when the cream mis-behaves

Well, the milk saga changes yet again.

Bessie's milk has been frothy lately.  Almost an inch of frothy bubbles after I milk her.  There are usually some bubbles, but not foamy like it's been partially whipped on top.  I can bring in what I think are two full-to-the-brim gallon buckets, and end up with quite a bit less as I filter it and the foam is disturbed.

Add to that strange phenomenon, the cream is having a hard time becoming butter, or yogurt, or ricotta.  There is a lot of cream, but the cream-line is not as distinct as it should be.  Supposedly this happens sometimes in winter, I'm not sure why.  But it isn't usual for Bessie's milk to refuse to whip up into beautiful yellow butter.

She has a history of mastitis (an infection in one or more parts of a cow's udder), she HAD mastitis once already since the calf was born just over a month ago, and there was a relatively large amount of clumpy stuff a few weeks back when I milked her.  This stringy-clumpy stuff was the type of stuff that dairymen strain their milk for to check for mastitis.

Her milk has filtered just fine since then, but the foaminess persists, and the inability to clump into butter without an extraordinary amount of work on our part is something to take note of.

After talking through all of this with the vet, he suggested a regimen based on what I've described above.

Today, I took a test sample of milk before milking normally, squirted it from each teat into a previously-sealed Ziploc bag, and froze it to send to a lab for testing at the vet's discretion.  

Then, I milked her--2 gallons like usual.  It might have a high somatic cell count, it might not.  But there were no clumpy clues that she has a raging case of mastitis.

Prince Caspian the handsome little calf got to drink as much as he wanted after that (he was really much more interested in head-butting the manure fork as I cleaned up the soiled straw, and in watching me warily and scampering out of my way.)

The little Prince got closed back into his stall, which he was none too happy about (and later escaped).

Bessie was left in the stanchion with a placating amount of extra grain, and I prepared her teats for medication.  Not fun, but if she has the slightest case of mastitis, I want to clear it up before it gets worse, and the vet agreed.

This procedure is what I humorously described over a year ago, when Bessie had been here for only a few weeks to a month.  At least this time, I'm familiar enough with her that I could do it without being ready to flee at the slightest movement on her part.

Step one:  Prepare the teats.  This involves warm water to clean them of all hairs and other unmentionable bits of messiness, a paper towel to dry each teat, dipping each one in iodine.....

Step two:  Prepare the syringes.  These are bought at the farm supply store, ready to use for intra-mammary insertion (maybe I made that term up, not sure)

Step three:  Hope that the cow doesn't flinch or kick, find the opening at the end of each teat, and insert the plastic end of the syringe.  The opening kind of looks like if you took the end of a No. 2 pencil and poked it into a ball of dough.  Just a small opening, about the size of pencil lead.  Then push the plunger at the other end of the syringe to squirt the medication up and into the teat.  Sounds much more daunting than it really turns out to be, as long as your cow doesn't fidget.  Bessie didn't even think about what I was doing, because she got more GRAIN ("anything for food", the Dykstra-farm theme-song)

Step four:  Massage each "quarter" to distribute the medicine (remember, the udder has four quarters, and each quarter feeds milk down into one teat).  Dispose of the syringes.

Step five:  Tell your cow that she's a good girl, give her an apple, and try to persuade her that she doesn't need to worry about her calf who IS NOT WHERE HE'S SUPPOSED TO BE.  (Soft concerned mooing on Bessie's part, serving to rile up the confined baby)

And then I went about the usual chores, while Bessie did her best helicopter-parent impression around the outside of the stall.

And yes, Prince Caspian did escape somehow.  He takes after his half-sister Ruby, who was ever-so-intent on not being separated from her milk source that she escaped from that stall whenever she was able to, until she got too big and I started tying her to the post inside of the stall.

Mama Bess is now standing forlornly outside of the barn door, which is closed with Caspian on the other side.  But the important thing?  The medicine is working inside of her udder as we speak.  Caspian can't slurp it out and also can't go teat-to-teat spreading any potential mastitis from potential infected quarters to healthy quarters.  I imagine he's having a princely temper tantrum inside the barn, which will only agitate his mother even more as she imagines what terrible things are happening to him as he kicks and screams.

We'll let him nurse again tonight, then I'll milk Bessie, then we'll sterilize her area again and repeat the medication insertion.  Caspian will stay in the stall tonight, even if I have to resort to putting a halter on him and tying him up like we used to do with Miss Ruby.  

Again tomorrow with the treatment, 2 more times, even though the box instructions specifically say not to treat for more than 2 times per teat.  Vet's orders.

Ninety six hours after that last medicine is applied, we'll finally have fresh milk to drink again.  All the milk between now and Christmas eve's milking will be wasted (where ARE those piglets when you need them!)  

Seems like a long time to wait, but....remember how much milk we have that is extra on any given/normal day?  There are currently 6 1/2 gallons of milk on the top shelf of our frig and a half-gallon of skimmed cream waiting to be made (hopefully) into butter.  We'll survive.

There is a fairly inexpensive test which I could have used to make sure she has mastitis.  It would be nice to know if we're doing it all because she really needs it, but it might be a lot of work for no case of mastitis at all.That will be my first farm-purchase when we begin the new year!  For now, the described scenario is what I have to work with.....    

Guesswork, but I'd like to think that I know my cow and her milk product well enough that I've guessed right this time.

 

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Ruby update:  Princess Ruby/Miss Ruby/Ruby-girl is scheduled to be picked up on Sunday morning at 9 for her royal procession to North Carolina.

  

Prince Charming update:  Charming is also scheduled to leave our farm on Sunday morning, after his new owners help us to load Ruby into her new owner's trailer.  I'm ever-so-grateful that these men with cow handling know-how are willing to help us, should Ruby decide to be obstinate!  You never know what crazy thing might happen, when a heifer has been raised with the idea that she is a princess.  :)

Milk, and lots of it

Photo:  The ultimate kitchen-scrap disposals:  our first piglets, who Michael did not allow me to name, so of course I did anyway.  Little Pig One and Little Pig Two at 8 weeks old

We're swimming in milk (figuratively speaking) and I'm thinking that pigs are the answer.......

Bessie is giving us 2 gallons of milk in the morning, EVERY morning.  Junior (aka Prince Caspian) drinks what he wants all day long and she still seems to have almost a gallon of milk every night.  Some goes to the kitties, who are now dashing eagerly to their food bowls and purring loudly every time I head out to the barn, tails swishing in excitement, in hopes of a warm sip of milk.  

For ourselves, we skim the cream off of day-old milk and drink "skimmed" milk (truly, Bessie's skim milk is probably equal to 2% milk in the store or even richer!)

I'm freezing a couple of gallons of milk each week (in preparation for the dry season before her next calf would be born, months and months from now) and still there is a bountiful supply.

With the cream from our skimmed milk, I'm making a cup of butter every day and freezing most of it for future food prep.  Not good for baking cookies unless it's freshly churned, from what I understand.  But it can be used for most other things like sandwiches, melted to use in recipes, whipped in potatoes, etc, etc, etc.  

If I make butter, we have extra buttermilk.  The freezer is stocked with butter AND buttermilk, and we've only had the fresh milk supply for 4 weeks so far. 

If I make cheese, it takes 2 gallons of milk for one batch of cheese, and leaves nearly 2 gallons of whey that's wasted.  

If I make yogurt and don't eat it quickly enough before we have a supply of milk that demands that I make more, the old yogurt is wasted.

If I make ricotta cheese, or cottage cheese, there is still the whey left over from the gallon of milk that I started with.  And there is the very good chance that I won't eat up the cheese before I really should make more to use up the extra milk......

Also quite common, if I make cheese and it doesn't turn out, it shouldn't end up in the trash can.  (Still learning the skill of making successful batches of cheddar, Monterey Jack, or Colby.  And cheesemaking takes uninterrupted time that I don't always have.)  

We could be swimming in milk and milk by-products.

  

Last winter, we had 100 chickens who would flock to the warm whey or extra buttermilk (or fresh milk into which Bessie may have plopped her poopy foot) and eagerly devour every last drop.  With 9 chickens, 4 geese, and 6 ducks this winter, they are hardly sipping a quarter of what I have available to them.  It's freezing in buckets and just being wasted.

Add the canning leftovers to the tally of extra milk products:  If I make jelly, jam, or fruit juice, there will be peels, blossom-ends, and pulp that something should be able to eat.

And kitchen scraps:  When I clean out the frig and there's food that could still be digested by livestock but has been in the frig for a week, what's the obvious choice?  If it's not moldy, if it's not a meat-product, if it's still recognizable and not gray or slimy, pigs should be able to enjoy it.

Pigs would be the centuries-old answer, the ultimate garbage-disposal, the farm animal which would put everything to good use.

  

The pork experiment wasn't a rousing success this last time, I'll have to admit, except for the wonderful sausage and bacon.  We spent way too much on feed.  

We've discovered, through talking with other people in the area, that the processing facility where we sent Pig One and Pig Two didn't turn out really high quality pork around the time that our 2 happy hogs would have been processed there.  So that's one bit of knowledge to put into play when the next pigs are ready for butchering.  

Even so, we can make soup, or stews, or pulled pork with the meat in the freezer.  It's just that it's not succulently juicy or deliciously smoked like Berkshire chops and ribs and hams are supposed to be.  It's a shame that we took such good care of them only to have substandard pork in the freezer as a result.  (And we shared it with friends and family, too, so if you too have tried the pork and been disappointed, please accept my apologies and the promise of better pork next time!)

Moving towards the centuries-old solution:  It might be that we buy the guinea hogs that I eventually hope to have, or it might be that we go with what's currently available:  Berkshire, Hampshire, any of the breeds that seem popular around here, and from any of the farmers who might have happened to have their sow give birth to a winter litter already.

Any breed other than guinea hogs would be a compromise on my part, but it could work if the main objective is to use up the currently wasted bounty of pig-worthy food and milk by-products that our kitchen is churning out daily......

Guinea hog piglets are on my Christmas wish list, but how do you wrap a couple of squealing, messy piggies?  ;)

I miss tossing our kitchen scraps to the friendly, smiling piggy faces out in the barnyard.  So yes, we are talking about getting a couple of piglets again.

We shall see how this plays out.....   

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

It's not such a bad little tree.....

Photos:

The logical but most over-grown choice

The birds-nest choice with no topper for the Christmas angel

The prettiest choice

The Charlie Brown choice (the trunk sandwiched in between the other 2 trees)

The winner.....will still need a bit of creative trimming

For the third year, we examined any and all evergreen trees growing on our property for one that could be made to work as this year's Christmas tree.  The 2 acres was nicely landscaped with many types of trees.....about 20 years ago.  There are blue spruce, fir, balsam pine, white pine, Austrian pine, cedar, and many hardwoods (the emerald ash borer has unfortunately destroyed 3 beautiful ash trees out in the cow pasture.)

All of the evergreen choices are really much too large or much too spindly for consideration as a Christmas tree at this point.

We had three choices this year.

The logical choice:  This pretty spruce tree will need to be taken down to make way for raised bed gardens (and allow sunlight through to those gardens.)  When we expand the fenced grazing areas, this tree will be in the path of the proposed fencing and would also continue to block the sunlight from letting any grazing-type forage grow in the small area behind it.  It could grow to be a majestic tree, but it has 3 strikes against it as far as location.  As a Christmas tree, it is really too tall and too mature, and would require quite a bit of pruning at the top and lots of ornaments and lights to make it work.

The prettiest choice:  The one that grows in front of our kitchen window.  It's a specialty spruce, I think, and won't get terribly tall.  But it is taller than it should be for the location it's in, and by next year, the tip of this pretty tree will become tangled in the reaching branches of the maple tree growing by the kitchen doorway, and potentially eliminate it from being Christmas tree material.

The "birds-nest" choice:  The third choice is a spruce tree which was planted too close to the north side of the house.  It will eventually be cut.  The first year, it's life was spared because, almost to the point of being ready to cut it, a robin flew out of the top and we realized that this small tree was sheltering a family of birds.  Three years later, it's still standing, but it's top has died back, and there is no nice pinnacle to place an angel or a star.  Not going to work as a Christmas tree without a serious makeover.

Another tree was hiding where we hadn't thought to look, not seeming very promising when we tried to get a good look at it, and required us to cut it out from between two other trees to even see the top of it.  The trunk had split into two spires.  The largest of these new "leader" branches was OK.  It would have been a lovely blue spruce if it was growing with no other trees around it, but two other spruces had crowded it to the point that the trunk was bent, split and the growth was stunted.  This tree probably would have been choked out within the next year or two.

Enter the "rescuer" mentality of Laura.....  Of course we could make it work!  Of course it could serve a good purpose before being choked into oblivion.  Of course we could trim it up and make it pretty and give it a home......  (Um, we're talking about trees here, not some cute little animal with dewy eyes and a forlorn expression).  :)  And truth-be-told?  The rescuer mentality was playing a part in the decision about any one of these trees under consideration.  Could we make one of them work for a few short weeks of tree-glory, and not just cut it down and feed it to the fire?

Jeremy and Jeff cut it and dragged it out into the open, and it was not a very pretty sight.  But when we moved aside the smaller of the two sections, there was a little hope for what would have struggled to become the main trunk.  

I dragged it over to the back step, being careful not to put it close enough where Rocky could gnaw on it (and yes, he would have).  Jeff propped it up and held it for inspection.  And my comment?

"It's not such a bad little tree, Charlie Brown".  

Jeff chuckled.  

(Honestly, I had been rehearsing that little line for any one of the trees in the running for this honor.)

So, with a bit of trimming, the hopelessly crowded blue spruce tree can now relax it's branches and be the focal point of our holiday gatherings.  We might have to do something about the crooked kink at the top, but then again, maybe that will be the reason we remember this tree through the ages ("Hey, remember that tree with the funny branch at the top?  Yeah, the one that should never have had a chance?  Where the angel looked like it was flying AWAY from the rest of the tree?  That turned out to be the BEST tree!").

Photos to follow, showing it's new identity as The Dykstra Christmas Tree of 2013.

   

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

What Ruby wants for Christmas

For Christmas, I though Ruby would be at her new home in North Carolina.  We've hit a small glitch which in turn shined a spotlight on all the little details that we hadn't talked through with the still-interested buyer.

So now, with her new ear tag and traveling papers, she may be going to a new home (hopefully not wrapped under any Christmas tree like a new puppy) or she may be wishing for more Mom-and-Me time with Bessie.  

Which brings us to her second wish for Christmas:  getting her nose pierced.

Charming (the foster calf we brought home in May) is going to his new home this weekend.  That part is on schedule.

Ruby was supposed to be sold by now before cold weather set in.  She's still out back, mildly upset that she can't be in with her mama.  Moving Ruby far away from her mama (across the country, if it still works out) would solve that problem nicely.

Bessie and new calf were supposed to be the only two cows on the property at this point, which would have made things so much easier, given the limited set-up we have back there and the limited space we have where we can logistically keep the cows.

We're re-evaluating the situation in a different way than we expected, and changing plans.  We really shouldn't have two adult cows here.  I don't think we're breaking any laws, being out in unincorporated McHenry county with a barn and a pasture and surrounded by farm fields, but still.....no need to give any reason for neighbors to complain or voice any concerns that our small slice of farm land is not large enough for the number of animals we are housing.  

There is no question that they are well cared for, or that the manure piles are managed (meaning, the whole place is not taken over by manure JUST yet!), or that the cows are healthy and watered and fed and have fresh dry bedding.  The only thing that might cause anyone to suspect the slightest neglect is that Bessie needs her hooves trimmed.  But yet, the responsible thing to do is to have one adult cow raising one calf, and no more than that, because when it comes to cows, a one-acre pasture isn't really enough land for more than one adult, with the baby as a side-kick.  

Ruby, as a now-adult and pregnant heifer, tips the balance towards one too many.

  

Alone in the pasture after Prince Charming goes to his new castle in Marengo, Miss Ruby will let us know that she doesn't like being separated from mama.

She leans way over the dividing wall between cow shelter and Bessie's water tank, trying to lap up the water.  She has her own tank of water from the very same well that Bessie's water comes from.   She just chooses to try for Bessie's water instead!  Maybe the goldfish living in that trough make it taste better?  Or maybe that's the nostalgic taste of water from her growing-up years, and she longs for that fishy after-taste.....  :)

She moos forlornly when Bessie gets fresh hay in the hay ring, and Ruby wishes, wishes, wishes that she could engage in pushing and shoving to get the choicest bits in the unreachable hay-ring.

I let all 4 cows bed down together when it was below zero, for two nights in a row last week.  Miss Ruby and Charming both realize now that it is SO much more cozy when the herd is not separated by 4 tiny strands of electric wire.  Charming even risked being zapped, and slurped up all of Bessie's milk this morning before I could even get out there with the buckets.

The new plan, unless the sale goes through before the end of the month, involves piercing Ruby's nose.  I hate the very idea.  

Here's the reason we would need to even consider such a thing:  

Ruby and Bessie have an understanding.  Nursing is a social thing between mother and daughter at this point.  When they are standing next to each other, it's as natural as a conversation with a friend.  They touch noses, or groom each other, and sooner or later Ruby is drinking her mother's milk, as if this should go on for the rest of their lives.  It shouldn't.  Ruby needs to grow up.  

She just knows that when she's with her mama, milkshakes are part of the equation.

Any teenage/young adult girl would LOVE to have their nose pierced, don't you think?  It could be quite the statement, a big metal spiky ring attached firmly in her nose.  Even better with a growing belly to show the true epitome of "rebel" fashion.....

If Ruby doesn't sell, we'll need to purchase the nose-ring, have the vet pierce it through her nose, and that will ensure that she will be kicked away by her mother each and every time that she tries to nose Bessie's tender under-regions in an attempt to steal some milk.  Bessie's thoughts might go something like this:  "You think you can drink my milk when you're stabbing me?  No way, girlie! Take that ring out of your nose and THEN you can have your milkshake!"  (accompanied by a hefty kick which will damage Ruby's pride but nothing else.)

Ruby will actually be happier than she is now, once she gets used to the bold new fashion statement attached to her nose.  She has "bling" in her ear now (the ID tag), why not add "bling" to her nose?  In my mind, it will spoil her dainty, beautiful features.  In her mind, she may toss her head proudly and strut around a bit more.......

She'll be back with her mother, socializing with her new half-brother, being part of the "herd" once again, eating Bessie's food that is inaccessible to her now, drinking the gold-fish water in Bessie's water tank, spending nights next to Bessie in the comfort of the straw bedding.....warm and cozy and much, much quieter.

Then we'll have to decide how long we can afford to keep her, and try to sell her at a later date. 

The logistics of keeping Ruby until her calf is born in mid-May aren't what I wanted to deal with, but.....that's the situation we need to work with at the moment, it seems.  She might sell better if she's a first-time mama with a successful delivery under her Dutch belt (pun intended) and getting accustomed to a successful milking relationship as a family milk cow.  We might even be able to sell her with her calf already born, or keep her calf to nurse off of Bessie. 

 

Lots of potential scenarios.  The best one still is, of course, if Ruby would be bought now and have time to settle in at a new place where she can get some more individual attention than I'm able to give her this winter.  And where she can avoid having her nose pierced through for the ever-so-fashionable nose ring that is on every heifer's Christmas list.

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Cow shelter.....I choose YOU!

Photo and news:  Miss Ruby, who had a successful vet visit yesterday, has her traveling papers and a new pregnancy confirmation, and is all set for her big move to North Carolina next week!

Seeing the title of today's story, the boys would immediately know that I was trying to reference the Pokemon TV show ("Pikachu, I CHOOSE YOU!") and would groan in embarrassment because that is such a lame title.  Whatever.  Sometimes it's worth making a lame joke to see what reaction you can get.

It was below zero last night by a degree or two.  I went out to the stanchion/barn area where all 4 cows spent last night.  I had not separated them during the day, and they fully enjoyed being bedded down together in the thick straw inside the barn area.  Bessie and Charming had been lying back to back, Caspian off to the side, and Ruby in her stall.  I wish I'd gotten a picture of it.  All 4 were contentedly chewing their cuds and happy to be together.  Charming was in his "food coma", meaning (in the vet's words) he drank too much milk that he wasn't used to having and has to doze it off.

Bessie's udder needed to be emptied before the night started (to make sure that no mastitis infection flares up again).  If the greedy mouths of the other cows had left anything, maybe there was just a bit of warm milk to give to the barn kitties....

I opened the door to go into the cow area.  But where were the cows?  

Well, the lack of cows in the stanchion area made it MUCH easier to set up for milking.  I just closed the big door, and didn't need to shoulder or elbow or body-slam any cows out of the way.  That's their cow-language, and to some extent, I have to play along or they won't pay attention.  If Bessie is standing directly in my path as I come out with fresh hay, I put my shoulder into her and shove until she shifts away a bit.  If her head swings towards the bucket of grain and she locks herself in place (IN THE WAY, of course, trying to grab a mouthful of grain before I can pass by her), I assess the location where she is standing and decide how to put her off balance just enough for her to remember "Oh yes.  I WAS supposed to be minding my manners."

Anyway, the milking area was set up in short order, and I opened the door and called "Bessie-girl!" and added a few tongue-clicks.  That's their signal that there's something really good waiting if they trot right on over.  

Who should come around the silo first but Ruby.  Young and spry, she probably thought she'd get a treat if she hoisted herself up FIRST from whatever cozy spot they were bedded down in and trotted into her stall.

My hand went up in the "STOP" sign, and she ducked her head.  If she'd continued towards me, that's when the "stop" signal becomes a clunk between the eyes to enforce that she may not barge through me.  Not mean, just necessary.  I've learned that you do not coddle a fast-moving dairy cow that weighs 1000 pounds.  

Bessie trundled along behind Ruby and shoved her out of the way.  Cow language.  "I'm the alpha female, you young upstart!  You have no right to stand between me and my grain.  The lady called ME, didn't you hear her?  Mind who you try to cut off!!!"  But cow language is so much more efficient.  "Shove",  and the message is delivered and reinforced as Bessie shows who's boss.

Between Ruby, Charming and little Caspian, only a half gallon was left.  Those little pigs....um, cows!  On a normal day, I take 2 gallons in the morning and Bessie still has an extra gallon for me at night after Caspian has nursed at his leisure all day long.  She could give much more if I had a milking machine and milked her to full capacity.  At any rate, the kitties were happy that they got something warm to fill their tummies before bedtime.

After all of this messing around, I went to check on where the youngest two princes were hiding out.  There they were, snug in the darkness at the back of the shelter-that-Jeff-built.  I hadn't made any special preparations back there, and in contrast, the barn area was full of nice clean straw just for them, but it was obvious that if the cows were given the choice, they chose the 3 sided shelter.  'Hard to tell if Jeff was pleased when I told him, but I think the corner of his mouth twitched in a little smile.   :)

Cow-shelter, I CHOOSE YOU!!!!

 

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

One big happy family

Photos:  All 4 cows together, eating shredded leaves and grass clippings (at the beginning of the month), big boy Charming, Charming and Ruby, and (the more manageable idea which will be reality after Monday next week) Bessie and little Caspian all by themselves

It was so cold last night that I took pity on the cows.

Ruby and Charming have been out in the pasture with only a 3-sided shelter for refuge from the cold, while Bessie and her new baby Caspian get the cozy stanchion room and the outdoor cow-pen.  

Granted, Ruby chose to sleep on a bed of hay out in the pasture on the coldest night so far, instead of under the shelter and out of the wind.  She didn't really need my sympathy.  But she and Charming will be moving soon, so I felt I could spoil the two of them just a bit.

I had let Ruby and Charming into the south end of the barn where the sheep live, so that they could have a break from the wind yesterday afternoon.  

By the time I needed to tuck all the animals in for the night, both cows were cozily bedded down in the one-foot-thick wasted hay that the sheep like to sleep on, while the 3 sheep watched in confusion from outside the doorway.  ("What do we do now?  We can't come in out of the cold with THEM in our beds!  We're so confused.......!")

I have a sneaking suspicion that the cows LIKE to get a reaction out of the sheep, based on times when the sheep are grazing contentedly out in the pasture and one or both cows will frolic towards them and start a stampede.  

In the snow two days ago, the sheep were bounding gleefully around, and the cows thought they needed to join in.  In the sheep's mind, these creatures were not "playing" with them, but the sheep probably imagined the cows as 1000 pound wolves with dripping fangs and murderous intent.  There was a stampede back to the safety of the barn while Ruby and Charming frolicked on their own.

In fairness to the sheep, though, the cows nearly stampeded yesterday when a young barn cat dashed past them.  I thought Ruby was going to crash right through the barn door with Charming close behind (which would be a terrible situation with 15 degree weather, snow, and wind whistling through what could have been a sizable breach in the protection that those doors provide.)  

Hopefully I've established that either sheep, or cows, or both are capable of stampedes and damage at the slightest hint of the unfamiliar. 

The situation:  I didn't want either of the animal species to spend another below-zero-wind-chill night out in the cold.  But the sheep needed to be inside more than the cows do (not because they aren't equipped for the cold, but because they wouldn't stand a chance if a coyote breached our livestock fence).  

I couldn't risk damage to animals or the barn if I try to lure the sheep into their own area, where the cows have taken over.  The crashing around and terror that could have happened in the dark of night would be laughable, but only when we looked back on it a few years from now.  :)

Ruby had to be lured away from her nice warm bed with a small bucket of grain.  Charming trotted right behind her so he could get his nose into the bucket, too.  Sheep One, Two and Three quickly dashed in the door and looked around warily.  Their fear was quickly put to rest as they got their own ration of grain and they settled in to pushing and shoving to each get their share.

The compromise:  Ruby was once again lured, this time with some overripe pears, into her old stall.  The old stall is built in the stanchion area where Bessie and little Caspian sleep.  

Caspian then needed to be left OUT of the stall with his mama.

Charming needed to be lured and dragged into the stanchion area, because he was worried that the electric fence was still in place to keep him out.

Bessie had to be convinced that this chummy party was OK, and that she and her baby would be safe inside together with her grown-up daughter (Ruby) and her foster son (Charming), who have now become imagined threats to her baby's safety.  

Charming proceeded to check for any available milk, (Bessie's udder is quite accessible to an eager calf who wants a warm cup of milk before settling in for the night).

Caspian proceeded to try to rile Charming up so that they could scamper in the moonlight together.  

Ruby bellowed because she was confined.

Bessie wished for some peace and quiet (and the all-important ROUTINE, which didn't include 2 extra cows in her space).

But....I didn't wake up worrying that the cows would have frost-bitten ears.  

I didn't even have to go out to the barn to milk this morning, because it would be silly to even consider that there would be any milk left for us (and there wasn't)

Also, the vet comes today to give Ruby her health check and another pregnancy confirmation.  So Ruby being in the stall is right where Ruby needs to be.  With a bucket of water, she can be there all day if need be.

The future:  Charming should be picked up this weekend to go and live with a young herd of Holstein steer calves.

Ruby should be picked up on Monday to make her move to a farm in North Carolina.

Bessie and Caspian will have the entire, huge one-acre pasture all to themselves.  No more dragging water buckets to fill TWO water troughs.  No more feeding cows in TWO areas.  No more making sure that mineral and salt is provided to TWO sets of cows.  No more making sure that previous calves who have nursed off of Bessie are prevented from slurping up a nice warm snack that they are no longer entitled to.

Seeing all 4 of them in that relatively small stanchion/stall area, if I didn't realize it before, I certainly realize it now:  It's way past time to cut the cow population by half.  When we've said our goodbyes to two of them, we can adjust to a much more manageable situation.  Whew!

At least for one night (and maybe tomorrow, and Thursday night, too, if I'm feeling generous and if we don't run out of milk!) they can be one big happy family like they WANT to be....  

 

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/