Meeting the pup

The photo that the breeder took when Jeremy got to meet his new puppy, Sunday August 24.  

The little pup was giving him adoring looks even at the beginning.

 

Laura

Cindy Lou.... WHO?

Jeremy has been waiting for a puppy since we moved here.  Michael got Rocky, the husky, but we decided that two new pups was going to be just too much.  Wise choice, as Rocky has been a challenge at times (or always?).  And Shadow (black lab mix) doesn't like him.  Makes for some snarling, growling, knock-down drag-out fights between the two current dogs.

So we did our research, looked at photos, joined internet groups for certain breeds, and basically learned all that we could.  Dreamed of the perfect farm dog, one who wouldn't chomp chickens without regard to their value to us, one who would trot along happily while we did the farm chores, one who instinctively knows what is supposed to happen and what is out of the ordinary, one who wouldn't run away but would recognize the boundaries of our farm.  

Jeremy decided on a "farm collie".  If you look at photos from the 1800's, almost every farm has at least one "farm collie" or Scotch collie.  Just good, all-around, farm-and-family dogs who aren't over-bred and who are still in touch with the work they have done for centuries.

The official name of what we were looking for:  English Shepherd.

Jeremy was content to wait (sometimes).  The money sat in his bank account.  Some days he said he wouldn't get a dog after all.  Some days we talked about why we didn't want to have 3 dogs at once.  And some days it was just accepted that "Dad won't let me get a puppy until one of the other dogs is gone."  That would have been the sane thing to abide by.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago.  

I had just been thinking "Rocky is 3 years old now.  He's settled down quite a bit.  If we were going to get another dog, now MIGHT be a good time".  Followed quickly by "No way!"  :)

And then Cimmarron English Shepherds posted a photo of a blonde cutie on facebook.  I sent a message in reply, describing our little farm and our dog power-play and that our son also wanted a pup that would cuddle up with him every night.  I didn't really wonder when I didn't get a response, because the first thing I'd said was "Price might be an issue".  You say that to a breeder, and you don't expect to hear back.

The pup's name was "Cindy Lou".

Unknown to me, Elaine (owner of the pup's father) had been sick and didn't see my message until 3 days ago.  She responded on Friday.

The owner of the puppy's mother (Tish of Blacksheep Homestead) was en route to New York, through Illinois, and had the little blonde pup with her, as well as a few other farm collie pups.  Cindy was still available.  She would be within 2 hours of us if we were still interested.  

The can of worms was open.  Sigh....

I debated, do we even take things further than just saying "No."  That would have been the sensible thing to do.  No.....  No puppy messes, no potty training, no crate training, no sleepless nights, no chewed-up furniture legs, no additional fighting between dogs, no muddy paws.....

I mentioned things to Jeremy.  His eyes lit up.  He immediately said "Dad won't say it's OK, so I don't want to get my hopes up."

The breeder and her traveling friend were persistent.  These are top breeders of English Shepherds who take great pride in placing the right pup in the right place in the right situation.  They just knew that the little blonde pup would be perfect for us.  I thought they might be right, but was not ready to jump at the chance without a lot of talking things through.  And some people can be really good salesmen simply because they are "sold" on their own product.  Hmmm.....  But Elaine and Tish are well known in the English Shepherd world as quality breeders, and I have the internet groups and webpages to thank for that knowledge.  I could trust their assessment, if we decided to do it.

So we talked, and Jeff didn't say no.  

The breeders were willing to take as-yet unborn piglets from as-yet-to-be-bred American Guinea Hogs from an as-yet-to-be-brought-home guinea hog mate for Beatrice as part of the payment.  They are trying to establish a diverse genetic pool in Oklahoma and Nebraska, since the guinea hog genetics there are all the same.  Same names, pedigrees that look the same, heritage breed pigs with high percentage of inbreeding.  In fact, Tish was bringing two piglets back from New York on this trip, so she and I had lots to talk about.  But I made sure that they knew our potential piglets wouldn't be potentially available until at least a year from now.....potentially.  They are OK with that.  The trade will be fulfilled a year from now (potentially!) when we have our first litter of registered piglets.  I would have much rather had it be a done-deal.

Back to puppies.

Tish was in Iowa on Saturday, stopping near Davenport.  That gave us an evening to talk things through before our window of opportunity to meet her when she was in Illinois.  Uncharacteristically, I was hesitant to jump into puppy-kisses and puppy-breath.  It was all too sudden, it was all too crazy, it was right before I had to work like mad to get the house back in order after a very busy summer.  (Dog hair rolling in clumps on every floor, dust on every surface, carpets to vacuum, bathrooms to deep clean, on and on....and that's not even mentioning the cow-pen to shovel out, the sheep-enclosure to finish building, the chicken house which still needs a perch installed, and on and on....)  

A puppy on short notice seemed too insane, too what's-the-word.......impulsive.  

Tish called before 7 on Sunday morning.  The Sunday when my alarm didn't go off and I was late getting barn chores and feedings done.  The day when we were supposed to start attending the new church for the first time.  The Sunday when Jeremy's confirmation class was starting.  

We had wanted Jeremy to wait and plan and anticipate.  Now we had to make a quick decision.  No going back once it was made.  We had a short window of time to meet the Tish before she was too far east.

Could we handle a puppy right now?  Made so much more sense to wait until summer, or to wait until we could fulfill the piglet part of the trade, or to wait until the schedule was less hectic (never gonna happen!)

(I said to Jeff, "I don't really understand why I'm hesitating when you've already said we can do it!")

We woke Jeremy up, and he sat straight up with a gleam in his eyes as I told him "We need to talk to you about that puppy.  We could get her today."

He was downstairs in record time, assuring us of all the right things, how it would be paid for, how he would care for it, where the cage would go.....  I am always impressed at the organized way his mind works through things, but this topped everything.  :)

We did explain that this is not how we wanted to bring a new pup into the house, and that there should have been a bit longer lead-time instead of impulse-buying.  Just to know that we'd done our parenting-duty.

So, Michael, Jeremy and I skipped church on the important date when we were supposed to join classes and officially attend someplace other than Immanuel Palatine.  We piled in the car for a two-hour drive to meet somewhere by Joliet, as Tish drove through on her way to placing another pup in Ohio.  

Jeremy could hardly sit still.  He had a cat carrier ready.  There were a couple of towels on the seat next to him.  He had the money from the bank.  He closed his eyes and listened to music on his headphones and let his longish hair stream in the breeeze, but I could see his knee and foot jostling with excitement.

We got to Joliet and found out that they were still over an hour west of us, so we started driving towards them.  Stopped for lunch, tried to find a shady spot with grass (no luck), sat down to eat a burger while I watched anxiously out the window for a big white van.  

What do you know, the van pulled in just a we settled down a bit, so of course we rushed back outside without eating.

There, in the arms of Tish, was the most beautiful puppy we'd ever seen.  I forced myself to let Jeremy be the first one to touch her (not easy!)  We moved to the shade and the shy little pup started to wag her tail.  Jeremy crouched down by her and she moved in to get close.  It was the absolutely perfect bonding moment, while Tish and I went over puppy-shot records, type of food, breeding notes on her mom and dad....

It was almost an hour later in sweltering heat when Tish needed to get on the road to finish the distance to Ohio before dark.  Hugs all around, and then the puppy was officially Jeremy's.

We quickly decided that little "Cindy Lou" would not ride in the cat carrier, but on the towel next to Jeremy.  She snuggled in and slept for 2 hours with her head on his knee.  If I hadn't been driving, I would have been gazing at her the whole way home to Woodstock.  She would open her big brown eyes and look at me, while scooting as close to Jeremy's side as she could get.

A good sign:  We pulled into the driveway, and Jeff came out to greet us.  He bent down and scratched little Cindy Lou under the chin.  She wagged shyly and Jeff petted her some more.  Not love at first sight, but a good welcome from the head of the household.

Little Cindy will probably end up with another name.  We keep tossing suggestions out there, and Jeremy will need to pick the right one.  

She is shy with Shadow and Rocky, but Rocky will be happy to know that this little pup already sees him as the dominant male.  She whimpers when he walks out of the kitchen and wants to follow him down the stairs.  He will be so pleased that someone finally recognizes his male-dog authority.  :)

She trots around behind us and is curious but not overly bold.

She easily overcomes being intimidated by too many new things (walking into the barn to the deafening quacking and baaing and screeching noises all around.)

She took one look at the big black cat and burst out with puppy-barks.  But after a few encounters, she walks calmly past, as Sly looks at her and wonders what to think.

And best of all?  Jeremy adores her. He runs and she follows.  He sits on the floor and she snuggles in.  He takes her out of her crate and she is all over him.

She is perfect.

   

Laura

Mouse-in-the-house tally

Well, let's see.....

Rocky and Shadow let that first one get away down the heater vent.  

But the very next day, Rocky was in his crate next to my computer desk, staring intently at the base of the desk.  I let him out, he zeroed in on the left-hand bottom drawer, I took out phone book after phone book until finally the whole drawer had to come out because of his insistence.  He didn't even need to think about what he did next.  I had the briefest glimpse of a mouse cowering in the front corner, he chomped it up, I called him to the back door and put him on the dog cable, and whatever happened after that is between Rocky and the mouse.  (I think it must have been the same one that he let go by mistake the day before.  There was a score to settle!)

One down.

I set 3 mouse traps and a rat trap in our bedroom closet, which seems to be "Mouse Thoroughfare".  Mouse Thoroughfare goes through our bedroom wall, into the closet, under the stairs, and from there into the rest of the house.

The next night, the dogs were very interested in the bottom step in the flight of stairs that is above Mouse Thoroughfare and goes to the second floor.  A clattering and odd scraping was coming from under the step.  

One trap was missing from where I'd set them in the closet, and I got a flashlight to check things out.  This happened a few times last year, where a trap was sprung and then gone without a trace.  A large enough opening is in the very back of the closet for a not-dead rodent to disappear, trap and all, probably leading down to the dirt area under the family room.  Hmm....probably why there was a flood of house-flies inside the house a few days later.  Gross....

Checked down in the basement, no sign of a trap with anything live in it.

Two down (maybe).

Fresh bait in the remaining 2 mouse traps in our closet.

By that night, the dogs were very interested in the outside of our closet door.  A young mouse, who sprung all 3 of the traps somehow without any of us hearing a thing.  Sly the cat was not interested, so the little body was disposed of.

Three down. 

 

Another one in the trap in the closet.  

Four down, how many to go?!!!

The pumpkin in the garden is turning orange, the leaves are falling off the trees (providing a lovely grazing opportunity for the 3 sheep and the pigs), the cucumber production is tapering off, the grass in the pasture is starting to grow again....  

All meaning that cool weather is starting, fall is almost here, and we'll be battling with mice/shrews/voles and the occasional chipmunk that get in somewhere and scritch around in the wall behind our headboard en route to the smorgasbord that is the rest of our messy house.... 

Once the soybeans in the fields around us are harvested, even more rats and mice will be looking for safe places to spend the winter.  (Luckily for our sanity and sanitation, the rats always seem to prefer the barn if and when they DO settle in.  Whew!)

Midnight the cat might have been the best mouser, after all.  When she was still alive, the incidences of mice in the house were much lower.

The dogs zeroed in on the area under the family room couch this morning.  I pulled it forward, they eagerly surged forward, and.....nothing.  Sigh.  I'm really hoping that all they got a whiff of was old scent, and not anything more.

The joys of living in an old farm house, I guess.

 

Laura

Forecast....a spring calf!

Photo tease:  Bessie with baby Ruby, July 2012, and Bessie with baby Caspian, November 2013

Woohoo!  Bessie is pregnant again.  

The vet just came out to do the 60-day post-artificial-insemination check.  

The daddy is a registered Dutch Belted bull who donated his "stuff" for the cause, willingly, I suppose.....  We're hoping for a nicely marked little girl calf this time, which would be bittersweet because at some point one of Bessie's calves will be raised to take her place....

Bessie is 2 months along.  Looks like it will be a March or early April calf, if all goes well.  The official gestation calculator suggests a birthdate of April 6.  

You can bet that I'll be worked up into a frantic state long before then.... Is the barn area clean enough?  Is the bedding deep enough?  Is the weather warm enough?  Is there a draft?  Does she have the right kind of hay?  Is the water trough staying thawed?  What if she gives birth when I'm not there?  What if she needs help --which she won't....and on....and on....  Waking up in the middle of the night to throw on a coat and trudge out to the barn, hoping for a calf.....  

Or maybe I'll surprise myself and take it calmly this year.  Now THAT's a novel idea....

Congratulations to Carrie, who took one look at Bessie a week or two ago and announced "Is your cow pregnant again?!!!  She is HUGE!"  Bessie thanks you for the kind compliment.....  ;)

 

Laura

Bea (and "Boris")

Our guinea hog gilt (young female hog) Miss Bea is ready and waiting for the male who will sweep her off of her feet (um....hooves).  

She was accustomed to Buddy, who took charge, wuffed in cows' faces for her sake, gamboled around the pasture without a care in the world, rushed to her defense but also shamelessly took the best food for himself (amid earsplitting protests from a younger Bea).  

Now that Buddy is gone, the poor girl is in with Buford (aka Twitchy) and Boss, who are not purebred (gasp!) but are growing nicely and their personalities are becoming quite evident.  Bea is holding her own against a very vocal and bold Twitchy, while happily shoving Boss around and using her piggy bulk to her own advantage.

Photos:  A male piglet from Ham Sweet Farm in Michigan....

See the piglet on top of the others in the 2nd photo?  The one with the red collar?  The one who is eagerly taking what is rightfully his (a mouthful of milk from a contented mama) while trampling his littermates to get to it?

This little guy will be joining our menagerie in a few weeks.  As you can see, he's already a "go-getter", "top of the pile" sort of character.  We chose his name months ago:  "Boris".  Time will tell if the name fits the personality.

This piglet will hopefully be the daddy of future American Guinea Hog piglets on our farm (in fall of next year, maybe?).  He could be a take-charge kind of boar, and we're hoping that Bea falls helplessly, head-over-heels for him when he's just a bit bigger and more mature....  

He has a lot of growing up to do, doesn't he?

  

Laura

Summer update

Let's see....what has happened in the last few months?

Cat fatalities:

Well, it's been a bad summer to be a cat on our farm.  

The black stray cat got hit on the road close to our mailbox.  

We went away for one night and our short-hair orange tabby barn cat was hit while we were gone. Then our long-hair orange and white barn cat went missing one day and was dead on the driveway by my car the next morning, not a mark on him.  

All within a 3 week time period.  

I looked up feline leukemia and distemper, just in case the stray had brought a virus in that killed the orange and white one, but it doesn't seem to fit.

The good news is that now the original barn cat (Spartan) and last summer's remaining orange tabby barn cat are best buddies, filling the void that Spartan seemed to still be feeling after his brother was hit out on the road last fall.  

The new kitties are venturing downstairs from the hayloft, and have become very friendly.  Time to call the spay-neuter program and get them taken care of before they venture too far outside.  And I'll ask about getting them vaccinated for distemper and feline leukemia, but.....the feral cat program in our county tends to do inexpensive spay-neuter and give shots for rabies, then they "tip" one ear (cut off the tip to signify that the cat is no longer a threat for reproducing) and that is it.

In strange coincidence for our family of animal lovers, I noticed (and Jeremy remarked about this for himself) that we no longer grieve over dead barn cats.  There's a moment where we gather our thoughts and mentally adjust which cats we're watching for at feeding time, but that's about all.  We even debated whether to continue burying them, but in the end, those that could be buried were placed under the red-bud tree with other cats and rabbits that are no longer here....being hit by a vehicle going 55 miles an hour on Greenwood Road doesn't always result in a cat that can actually be buried, sad to say....  

Sheep drama:

Patriot, the lamb born on Memorial Day, involved himself in a sheepish accident (couldn't resist!)  Actually, it was a bit "freakish" in a stupid-sheep sort of way (remember the sheep who got themselves stranded on the one remaining snow drift this past winter?  Little legs dangling down uselessly on either side of their "perch" because they'd plowed into the snow while running full speed?).  

The lamb fiasco:  I tossed some stale bread over the fence, and about 20 minutes later we heard insistent bleating from one of the lambs.  I assumed it was Patriot, because he is always making a racket, but wasn't prepared to see him stuck up against the pig pen with his lip impaled by a garden planter.  Yeah, how much more random can you get?!!

Somehow, in true sheep fashion, he had gotten into an impossible situation, making it worse for himself when he struggled to get free as I tried to herd the pigs past him so that I could help him.

Within an hour, he was eating and drinking as if nothing had happened, but a week later, we wrestled him to the ground to soap up his face and make sure that the puncture wasn't infected.  It seemed fine, but wasn't closed up yet.  No call to the vet (I most surely would have called the vet a year ago!) and little Patriot seems to have a permanent drooling problem out the side of his lip but nothing more.

Piggy addition:  

In the next few weeks, we should finally have a breeding-quality guinea hog male for Miss Beatrice.  We have to drive halfway across Michigan to get him, so that the piggy genetics on mama pig and papa hog's sides aren't duplicated on the eventual piglets' pedigrees..  

Beatrice will be one year old in November, and should be bred in that time-frame.  But....the new little guy will be only 4 months old by then, so Miss Bea will just need to be patient.

I was hoping for spring-time piglets, but at this point, after contacting numerous breeders in our own area over the past few months with no luck in finding a suitable mate for Bea, I'll be happy to have piglets born SOMETIME next year.  And driving to Michigan will bring back some American Guinea Hog genetics that are simply not found in Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin....  Sigh.

Looks like Miss Bea will be a cradle-robber as she waits for her perfect Prince to grow up.  

So much else has kept us busy, but those three things stand out.  Cats (the good, the bad), sheep (stupid, but adorable in spite of themselves), and trying to find a princely match for Miss Bea.....

I'll try to post some photos of the completed Chicken Palace sometime soon.  Jeff has received lots of great compliments on how nicely it turned out, and the new Barnevelders and White Holland turkeys are ever-so-happy to have such luxurious accomodations.  :)

 

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Dogs to the rescue

In the quiet of the morning, suddenly I became aware of Shadow (the lab-mix) whimpering and clawing frantically at all the clumps of husky-hair that had collected under the entry-way bench.  Sly (the black cat) was sitting calmly on top of the bench.  That combination means just one thing:  a rodent was hiding under the bench.  That combination usually means:  the rodent still has a fighting chance to get away.

Sigh.  We'd heard one in the wall a few nights back.  The wall behind our bed leads into the closet in our room which leads under the stairs to the 2nd floor which has a tiny opening at the very far end to let a mouse get through to the rest of the first floor......

Sly had probably been tracking the little mouse for most of the night, then it was finally cornered under the bench and Shadow interrupted Sly's hunting strategy.

Pulling the bench out from the wall, sure enough, a tiny gray figure streaked along the line where the wall meets the floor.  Shadow was close behind, but not close enough.  

The little mouse peered out from under an enormous pair of running sneakers, took a right-angle leap up the single stair and onto the carpet, and streaked into the first floor bathroom.

It was cute and little, but not cute enough for me to stop the animals from hunting it down.

Shadow's rodent-hunting strategy is.....watch for the critter, think about it a moment, then follow and go crazy.  The mouse was safely under the cast-iron tub before Shadow even started for the bathroom.

While she was clawing up the hundred-year-old floor trying to get the mouse out from under the tub, I moved smaller things up off the floor.  Lots of back-and-forth and a few mad-dashes later, the little mouse was still safe behind that tub.

All of this time, Rocky (the husky) was perched outside on the picnic table, his usual spot to survey his domain.  He didn't want to come inside, but I forced him to leave his kingly throne.....  

Immediately, he heard Shadow's whimpering and knew what was happening.  He made a bee-line to the bathroom, where Shadow was still peering under the tub when we could see the mouse plainly in the corner by the doorway.  

Before the sight of those little brown eyes and whiskery nose even registered in my brain, Rocky chomped it up and trotted away.  

Rocky's rodent-hunting strategy:  Don't bother with the thinking.  React in less than a split-second and think later.  

He unfortunately brought the mouse into his dog-crate in the kitchen, set it down in the back corner, and off it went through the bars of the cage.

I'm sure you've all seen videos of people shrieking uncontrollably when a mouse streaks towards them.  Well, after moving dog crates (more clouds of dog hair) and the computer desk, the dogs chased the little mouse straight towards me.  And I screamed.  And danced around a bit.  Had just enough time to be glad that no-one was there with a camera.  And couldn't stop screaming.  Until I was laughing uncontrollably.  (And still sort of screaming.)

Anyway, they cornered it under Shadow's dog crate.  We moved that crate and all the shoes that were strewn around that area.  It streaked towards the refrigerator, where they seemed to lose the trail.

  

Fall-back rodent-hunting strategy for both dogs:  Retrace your steps to try to recapture the fresh scent.

About half-an hour of frantic searching later, it was clear that the mouse was not under dog crates, or under the refrigerator, or back in the bathroom or entry-way.  Both dogs were just about exhausted (which will make for a nice, quiet day for the rest of us!)

My gaze fell on the air conditioning vent, which is an old cast-iron type with mouse-size decorative openings.  Right in the path between dog-crate and refrigerator.  Just at the point where the dogs lost the mouse.  Yeah, it's still in the house.  

The aftermath:  The mouse is still on the loose.    Maybe Sly will be successful tonight if it peeks out of the heater vent.  

The first floor is a mess of dog hair that has been set free from underneath and behind things.  Now that things are moved away from the wall would be a great time to get some deep-cleaning done.  

But no, that won't be happening.....  

With husky-hair billowing all around the house now, did I mention that our vacuum is broken?  ;)

 

Laura