A shocking development.....

Thanks in part to Bad News Rocky's escapade this past weekend, we finally electrified the poultry netting fence that I've had for almost a year now.  The intent is to keep the dogs and cows out of a certain area and to let the chickens scratch a patch of ground bare for Jeff to grow some hops and grain.  

The fence makes a quiet little ticking sound, kind of unnerving.  Jeremy wanted to test it for me, and first got a tiny shock.  He tried it again and yelped.  That wasn't enough.  His curiosity got the best of him and he went back a third time and took a really firm hold.  I saw him visibly jolt, he thought his heart had stopped, and still felt a bit sick about it almost 10 minutes later.  

Shadow tested it because I pointed the fence out to her (she usually leaped effortless over it before we hooked it up to the charger, and if she goes over, Rocky will plow through), and her cold, wet nose got the most agonizing shock.  I felt terrible!  All I'd gotten was a tiny shock, and both Jeremy and Shadow got the full effect.  One of the barn cats came along later and must have jumped 5 feet in the air when he found out that the ticking noise should NOT be investigated.  ;(
Jeremy DID think it was a bit fun to try to fool me into touching him while he was (secretly) touching the fence, but I absolutely HATE being shocked by fences, so I couldn't even pretend to go along with his scheme.  My dislike of electric fencing goes back to when we lived in Colorado, and our church was next to a cow-field.  Someone told me to touch the fencing with a long piece of grass (I remember my Dad chuckling about it, but don't remember if he was the one to suggest the idea).  I didn't think that grass would conduct any electricity, but got a good strong shock never-the-less.

All of this brought to mind the story about Carrie on the 8th grade mission trip:  The class was at the top of a hill in West Virginia, facing a field with cows in the distance.  The parents lined the kids up for a photo-op moment, and one of the parents hopped the electric fence to get the best shot.  Carrie was always one to go for shock value (pun intended, but so true!), so she took hold of the electric fence and made sure to touch one girl in particular every time the class was told to "smile".  Every photo had Carrie looking pleased with herself and the other girl squirming with discomfort and yes, shock.  Funny, but still.....

Now the question is:  Did Rocky test the fence already, and will it work on him?  My thought is that he'll just barge through and the shock won't register unless it touches his vulnerable nose.  His coat is so thick that he can pester the cats without much fear of getting slashed unless his face gets too close.  If he can walk right through it, then the chickens are still in danger.  Sigh.....It COULD work to my advantage that he didn't ever jump the fence, because maybe the electric netting would make an impression on his toe-pads as he trampled his way through.

Thanks to those who pointed out "once a chicken killer, always a chicken killer".  That's what I suspected, and I'm sure he'll kill more chickens who cross his path instead of staying where they are supposed to be.  Warning to anyone who lives on a farm and is considering a husky:  Huskies should NOT be farm dogs!  Even if I ran him into the ground behind a heavy sled, he'd perk up enough to go after a chicken through his exhaustion, I'm sure of it.  Even Shadow would not have made the best farm dog, despite the fact that she leaves the chickens alone.  She IS a good watch dog, though, and some days when it's just me and an unfamiliar car pulls into the driveway, I'm so glad to have her with her deep and scary bark.  Really, it makes sense that everything on a farm should serve a purpose to help the work on the farm, or it seems like time is wasted taking care of that particular animal which will never contribute.

Rocky's only saving grace at this point is how endearing he can be, and how he seems to have appointed himself as the guardian of the cows.  Besides sampling the fresh cowpies every chance he gets, he does make a point of going over to them to touch noses before doing anything else in the fenced area.  Too cute for his own good, I think, just don't let him lick you until he's had a good, long drink of water to clean out his mouth!

Have a good week, everyone.

Laura.

Bad News Rocky, good news about Bess

Good news and bad news this weekend.

The bad news first.  Rocky slipped past us while we were working to fix the door which the cows tried to break in half, and he got a chicken.  This would be chicken #3.  I kicked him.  Not a good thing, dog lover that I am.  Jeff can tell you that I was absolutely shaking and fuming with rage.  Rocky did his best husky drama, as if I'd maimed him for life, and then trotted away once he got my sympathy.  When I was carrying the still-alive hen into the barn, he was intently trying to leap up and get his mouth on her again, and, truth be told, I had a hard time not kicking him again.  I know it's a husky's nature to have a high prey drive, but he'd been so good lately.  I was disappointed and livid all at the same time.  There was just one lonely chicken out where he could get to her, and no-one watching, and instinct took over.  (My cousin Sarah's husky killed lots of her chickens in Michigan.  Don't know whatever happened to him......)

The possible good news about the  situation with Rocky is that the chicken is still alive 2 days later.  Maybe that's good, maybe not.  I was sure she'd be dead yesterday morning, but she was standing in the milk crate under the heat lamp where I made her as comfortable as possible.  Her face is horribly puffy, her eyes are swollen shut and she can't seem to swallow, but she is fighting to live.  She is alert enough to sense when I'm close to her and to cluck or move away from me, even with her eyes shut.  Like the chick who looked as if it would always be crippled after hatching, this hen is holding on to life so determined that I can't just take it from her.  So we'll see what happens.  She's a pretty little gray Ameraucana who lays the brightest blue eggs of any of them, and is one of the chicks that we bought from Farm and Fleet when 1st grade's hatch wasn't the greatest last year (the idea being that the kids would at least have a few fluffy little chicks to enjoy).  

Rocky would have been in the dog house but.....we don't have one built yet.  Lucky for him.  He still knew that he had done something worthy of shame, but in true husky fashion he kind of shrugged it off and went on with his happy little life.

The really good news has to do with Bess and the milk testing.  Remember the possibility of a staph infection in that one back quarter?  There wasn't a trace of it.  That quarter was the clearest of all 4!  That means.....we don't even have to consider giving her up because of an infectious form of mastitis.  If she has a female calf, we can let it nurse from her, without worrying that it would pick up an infection through contact with Bess' udder.  We don't have to worry about an  infection that could infect any female calf or heifer as long as we have Bess around.  Thank-you, God.  What great news after some pretty disturbing thoughts about what to do with her "if"......

The vet suggested that the clumpy milk and misshaped form of that quarter might be from scar tissue from past mastitis or from adjusting to our farm (new situation for her).  I wonder, too, if my clumsy attempts to learn how to hand-milk could have contributed to any mastitis infection that was just lingering, waiting for a chance to become noticeable.

Even the vet was intrigued with the testing results after all the back-and-forth phone calls and milk collecting we've done.  

The other 3 quarters are a little bit of a different story.  She needs some antibiotics to clear up 2 different types of mastitis.  One type tends to be more likely in very wet conditions, but that doesn't really fit our set-up, especially since I'm scooping poop every morning to keep their area as clean as possible.  The really good news, despite that diagnosis, is that the infections that she's fighting should both respond well to amoxycillin.  If it was staph aureus like we initially thought, treatment could be a remote possibility, but not a very likely one.
The administration of the antibiotic involves a lovely procedure of syringes and the ends of her teats, so if you want more details, you'll have to write me separately.  It's possibly TMI (too much information) for a chatty e-mail.....!  I'll just say that I was amazed that she stood still and didn't even flinch.  I was fully anticipating getting kicked over into the nearest cow-pie.

We started the medication Sunday morning, and won't have fresh milk to drink until the end of the week when the antibiotics are out of her system.  It's very strange to be milking her and knowing that the milk is NOT coming into the house.  That takes a bit of the joy out of it for me, to tell the truth.  Usually when I'm milking her and the bucket is filling up, it's a satisfying feeling to know that she is providing for our family.  Yesterday, though, there was a feeling of freedom to not spend so much time straining the milk, chilling the milk, skimming the cream off the milk for Michael and Jeremy to drink, making cheese or butter, freezing excess, and sterilizing all the equipment for the next milking.  

I can't even give the medicated milk to the chickens this week, so last night was the first time I had to just pour it out on the ground.  Sad, really.  It will be gallons of milk wasted by the end of the week.  The only suggestion the vet had was to get a little pig and feed the milk to the pig, but.....we have enough animals for right now.  (And yet, I know someone who has some Guinea Hogs for sale---not to be confused with guinea pigs!--and we could easily be giving all this excess milk to a cute little black pig.....someday, but not today!)

Hope you all had a good weekend and are enjoying the day off.

Laura.  

test delete me

Picture to make you smile...
 
This was on FB today and I thought it would make you smile. :-)

I think you are right that cows are just big goofy dogs. ;-)

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Big goofy dogs that can do a lot of damage.   We spent the day fixing the door on the back of the barn.  Bess must have rammed into Lucy and then Lucy would have hit the side of the door. It's a sliding door on an overhead track, like a typical heavy barn door.  It's not meant to bend out, but the combined weight forced that edge to splinter, while the center of the door was held in place by two half-barrels full of water, and the whole door was hanging by the one board on the far side when we found it.
Not fun or expected, but when we saw how the door had actually been put together, it made sense.  It only LOOKED solid and sturdy!

------ End of Forwarded Message

Some thoughts...

Well, I sent this to myself yesterday and forgot to add the "bcc" address list.  It's not a comical e-mail today, but just kind of reflective on my part.  But.....sending it only to myself was a bit MORE reflective than I intended!  ;)   Sometimes thought processes come together into one cohesive thought after being just individual thoughts swirling around in my head, and that's what this e-mail is--so many thoughts from the past few months and even years that have formed themselves into something that I've tried to put into words for you. Let's see if I can send it to the group today and not keep it to myself!  ;) Hi all. There's a Little Golden Book called The Country Mouse and the City Mouse, probably vintage by now.  The story is about a snobby city mouse coming to visit her friend the down-to-earth country mouse.  The city mouse turns her nose up at the simple things that the Country Mouse enjoys.  The country mouse went back with the City Mouse to visit her home in the city, and was horrified at the vacuum (which tried to swallow them up), terrified by the cat (who they had escape from by slamming a door in its face), disgusted with the noise.....and the country mouse promptly ran back to the country where she felt safe and at home.   My sister and I loved that book but usually fought over who could "be" the country mouse because we both identified more with the country life than the city life.  (We fought about everything--my Mom can tell you that!)  There was only ONE country mouse, so it stood to reason that only ONE of us got to "be" that mouse.  But Paula got there long before I did, despite the arguing. Paula has been gardening, raising rabbits, starting her seeds in a beautiful greenhouse that her husband built, raising chickens with her boys for years now near Chattanooga.  As an adult, she has been more the country girl than I was, baking from scratch, making bread, doing all the stuff that I was too busy to do.  Going to her house was and is always relaxing, even though she and Russ go full speed, all the time.  They don't live totally out in the country, but it feels that way, very warm, homey, and welcoming in a laid-back sort of way. I was too busy to live that way, for a long time.  It took a long time for God to get through to remind me of what I'd always loved as a kid and what I'd lost touch with in the "busy-ness" of suburban life.  I'm realizing something out here:  not all of that busy-ness is necessary! I'm certainly loving the country life, and hopefully that's obvious in the e-mails I write.  Becoming mesmerized by the stream and splash of milk in the bucket, or gathering eggs and thanking the hens (and then thanking God for the opportunity to grow our own food)....that was missing from suburban life for a long time and I didn't even know it. With Chris and Carrie, I remember looking for caterpillars, and making snowmen, making play-doh, going for walks and doing fun things.  I was still in touch with feeling joy at little things back then.  I think Michael and Jeremy missed out because by the time they were toddlers, I was running on "auto-pilot".  They are just now discovering those joyful things along with me as I rediscover them.  As an example:  the older chicks are downstairs, in Michael's bedroom space.  I expected him to be annoyed, because they don't really get cuter as they get older, but they DO get louder.  But yesterday morning he took the time to scoop one up out of the box and hold it before heading upstairs for school.   We looked for monarch caterpillars all summer on the milkweed, and finally I decided that the spray drifting over from the corn fields must kill off any caterpillars.  I gathered all the milkweed seeds I could find and put them in the garden in front of the house.  Hopefully there will be caterpillars this summer, protected from the insecticide by the buffer of the house, garage, and barn.  Just a small thing, looking for caterpillars, but something that I had lost in the shuffle to keep up with everything in "suburbia".  We'll see if my theory is correct, and maybe there will be a little community of monarch caterpillars growing up safe from pesticides in our tiny wildflower garden.  Our friend Mike told me that I sound "joyful" when I write out what's happening here, and he is probably right. Here's the thought process that kind of brought everything together while I was working a few days ago: I was cleaning out a desk drawer (just one--there are so many more to go through!) and came across this devotional from a few years ago.  It's just one page torn out of a book, and I don't know which one it's from...maybe Daily Bread, maybe one of the Lutheran monthly devotional booklets.   Talking about Psalm 23, it says:  "(the psalmist) sees the Good Shepherd bringing him to 'still waters'--that is, waters to rest by.  It pictures a quiet place, a retreat from the pressures of life, where you can rest in the presence of the Shepherd of your heart and be strengthened for what lies ahead.  Even Jesus withdrew to a solitary place to pray and commune with His Father.  (Mark 1:35). (It continues:)  We all need retreats in our lives, not only because of the overwhelming nature of life, but because of our dependence on the resources of the Master.  In our fast-paced days, it is essential to find a place of solitude, 'a place of quiet rest, near to the heart of God'."   (Me again:)  Somehow in the business of life in suburbia, this little devotional spoke to me.  At that time, hiking in Shenandoah National Forest with Carol Ruhter's retreat groups was where my soul found "still waters".  That was a place of rest, beauty, and a place where the Holy Spirit came alive in my life again (as if He had ever been gone!  I'd just lost sight of His influence and leading).   Shenandoah was a wonderful chapter in my life, and sometimes coming home from a retreat in that beauty and quiet it was very hard to want to jump right back into the "busy-ness" that I was trying to keep up with.  It felt like our pace of life was just waiting to swallow me up again as soon as I got home. Now God has brought me to another quiet place, right here, on this little farm in Woodstock.  It's peaceful, serene, beautiful, and causes me to think (or sometimes just to BREATHE) "Thank-you God, for everything that you have allowed me to experience in this restful place".  Shoveling manure, cleaning out chicken coops, that all pales in comparison to the peace that is in my life again after so many hectic years of keeping up with sports-schedules or just trying to not sink deeper into depression.  Something as simple as seeing Rocky and Lucy seek each other out every day to touch noses, or watching the cows frisking around the back acre together because it feels like spring today--there's a feeling of joy and rest in those types of things. Here's that last paragraph from the devotional again, including the question that ends that lesson:  "We all need retreats in our lives, not only because of the overwhelming nature of life, but because of our dependence on the resources of the Master.  In our fast-paced days, it is essential to find a place of solitude, a "place of quiet rest, near to the heart of God."  "Where's yours?" (And here's what's on my heart today):  Find a place where your soul can be quiet, and where God can be in touch with you in spite of all of the craziness that we think is necessary in our lives!    Watch a caterpillar, or come here and hold a fuzzy baby chick (yes, consider that an invitation!), read Psalm 23 in a quiet corner of your office building during a busy day, or take the time to examine a snowflake that has just landed on your glove, or find a place where you can watch the sunset without power lines or office buildings in the way or planes roaring overhead......  Just "rest" there, wherever it is, and give yourself the chance to breathe and thank God for all the things that are worthwhile! Love you, Laura.

You got WHAT for your birthday?

I turned 45 this past Sunday.   Jeff and the boys gave me something I've always longed for.  They must have looked high and low to find one.  It is a rarity that a suburban mom would only dream about.  Something that is in every Wal-mart and farm store out here near Woodstock.....a manure fork!   The cows have been making a habit of laying in those warm, sloppy cow-pies every night, even when I shovel the old frozen ones out every morning, they make more to lie in every night....  But who would have thought that I'd want a manure fork for my birthday?  Funny how perspectives can change in just a couple of years, because 5 years ago at the party that Jeff and Jane Powell threw when I turned 40, if you'd asked me if I wanted a manure fork I would have thought you were crazy! But, in fairness to Jeff and the boys, here's what was on my "wish list":  a snowblower and a manure fork.  Just those 2 choices.   That manure fork worked SO much better than the garden spade that I've been using.  It's kind of hard to balance a mat of frozen manure and sloppy wet straw on a narrow garden shovel that is meant for transplanting perennials.  Worked so well with the tool that is made for the job that I cleaned out the whole stall and put down fresh hay for them.  It helped that it was above freezing this morning.... And I discovered something new about Bessie today.  I've still been tentative in working around the cows.  They don't look quite so huge and intimidating now that I'm used to them, but when I brush Bess, I still make sure to know where her head is (in case it swings towards me), where her hooves are (in case she would step on my foot again--the injured toe is still red and itchy after a month!) and make sure that she's still focused on eating all the alfalfa and grain to keep Lucy from getting any.   I was feeling pretty good about getting the cow's suite cleaned out, and my fingertips weren't in danger of frostbite like they have been for the past few days.  I decided to brush Bess while she was eating from the other pile of hay.  This means that she's not in the stanchion, and I'm not on the OTHER side of the stanchion with a board between her and my safety.  She was nice and calm, and seemed to be enjoying the brushing (in a cow sort of way---as if she was thinking "Whatever.  I'll tolerate you.  Just don't do anything that will bother me while I eat".)  But then.....she stopped chewing and just stood there with her head down and a goofy look in her eyes.  I was a little wary, because I didn't know exactly what she was thinking for a while there.  I was brushing down her back, following the hollow part of her skin, up and over  her pelvic bone and just before her tail.   Think of how a dog looks when you find the spot on their belly that makes their leg twitch.  That's the look she had in her big brown eyes.  The eyes were half closed, her head drooped until her nose was in the pile of hay, and she didn't even twitch a muscle.  The only thing that interrupted her ecstasy was when Rocky kept poking his nose in her face as she zoned out.  THEN I had to watch her hooves as she butted him away and stamped her feet, but she very willingly went back to standing there with her head down, just gazing dreamily into the distance while I experimented with which location she liked to be brushed the most.  She loves being brushed under her chin, on her cheek (just the left one--for my kids' sake, let me clarify that it's the cheek on her FACE!), behind the ridge where her horns would have grown, and all up and down and under her neck.  Not too keen on being brushed on her belly or across her ribs, but certain spots are real favorites.  Who knew?  Now it makes sense why Lucy stood with her head down and so still for me the other day.  I was brushing her then, too, and that was the first time Lu had willingly stood still for me to touch her. It's kind of difficult to remain hesitant and timid around a large animal when it stands indefinitely still  with a dreamy look in it's eye because of something you're doing.  Kind of endearing, I think. Speaking of endearing.....We're still waiting on the test results from the milk samples.  I've given up trying not to be emotionally attached to Bess, whatever the results may be.  That was a lost battle from the start! The yogurt turned out really well from yesterday.  It's really easy to make in the Crock Pot.  It's absolutely delicious with a little bit of vanilla, a pinch of sugar, and mixed with homemade blue-berry jam.  I made a whole gallon of it, and that hardly put a dent in the milk supply. No wonder February hasn't gotten me "down" like every other year in Illinois.  There's just too much that's new or fun to try.     One other "country" joy: Michael's last home basketball game for the season is tonight (Valentine's Day).  We had lasagna for dinner last night instead, made from scratch, but even better than ever before.  I used home-made ricotta cheese from two days ago (made with Bessie's milk), and we used tomatoes that my mom canned this past summer.  The spicy and the mild sausage was ground fresh at the little grocery store in town, and only the noodles and mozzarella cheese were factory-processed.  The noodles were already in the pantry, so I did pretty well with only needing to buy the mozzarella at the store.  And.....with a little, almost insignificant tablet called "rennet" could have made the mozzarella too.  Time to order some from the on-line store. Have a good day, everyone. Laura.

Up Close and Personal

Bess surprised me today.  I was in the middle of milking, and off to the side I see a black and white husky face peering into the room.  Lucy was eating hay, and (another surprise) was not at all spooked that Rocky came in and sniffed her up close.  I might have expected that if I had stopped to think that the first thing Rocky does when he's set free to run in the morning or night is to go over and check on Lucy and Bess.   Then---Rocky came over to check out the milking operation (he LOVES his fresh milk in the morning, to the point of trying to lick the drops off the milk bucket when I come in).  Bess had snorted, so I knew that she saw him.  He was actually a bit hesitant and respectful of her, which was an enormous change of pace for him.  I was ready to grab the milk bucket out of harm's way when he sniffed her nose as she was munching, but it didn't faze her.  He hovered around, sniffing her stomach, the back of her heel, her neck.....all hesitant, but very much "I'm going to do this whether you like it or not".  When he got to the milk bucket, lucky for him, he listened when I growled at him to "leave it!" and fixed him with an angry glare.  It seems that, with a husky (maybe it's just with a MALE husky!), you have to speak THEIR language for them to even take notice! He was still hanging around when I started to shovel manure, and the cows were OK with him, so I let Shadow in, too.  Bess ignored both of them until she was kind of surrounded--Lucy wanted to nose her way back into the hay pile from the front, I was standing there brushing Bess on the right, and Rocky was nosing deep into the bedding on her left while Shadow sniffed her udder from the right.  It was a bit too much for Bessie, and she stopped chewing (a little ominously, I thought), kicked at Shadow a bit with her back hoof, and then went back to her breakfast.  That was all!  I won't purposely let the dogs in while I'm milking her, but it's good to set aside that mental image of elephants trampling around and trumpeting wildly in the milk room. The real breakthrough this morning with Lucy came when the dogs got sent out of the cow pen.  Shadow had decided that Lucy needed to be barked at, and Lou just wanted to be left alone.  Rocky was the one who was behaving himself and being friendly, but I sent him out, too.  Lucy seemed pretty laid back, and I held out my hand to her.  She sniffed it, and then......let me scratch her head between her eyes.  I moved to scratch the spot behind where her horns would have grown, and she lowered her head.  Not being sure of cow-language yet, I moved really slowly and watched what she would do next.  I scratched her neck, and she stood there without even flinching.  I took out the brush I'd been using on Bess and Lucy stood still, head down, while I was allowed to brush her fuzzy side.  She moved away just a bit, but let me come close again to brush the little whorl of hair in the middle of her forehead.  I'll be careful how much I tell Jeremy, because HE wants so badly to be the one that tames her.  Maybe this just paves the way for him to get up close and personal with her, since he is hoping that she will be "his" cow and that when she eventually has a calf, it will be his to care for. On to the next job--I had been wondering how Rocky kept getting into the newly-set-up fence, but had seen Rocky squeezing under the fence earlier.  That's why he was in the milking room with us, not because he was supposed to be there.  So guess where two wheelbarrow loads of manure were dumped today?  I saw him trying to get back in the same way a little later, and finding his path blocked by the wet smelly mess.  Knowing him, he'll probably just force his way through it tomorrow, thinking that he's found a really great new cologne!  He'll go trotting proudly all over the backyard while I groan about having to give him a bath!  :)   The chicks are all doing well.  The little gray one that hatched last is trying to make up for lost time and appointed himself the watch-chicken of the whole group, and "most-vocal", and he is also trying to boss everyone else around.  When they are all cozy together and napping, HE is the one to get antsy and move around enough to wake everyone up.  Must be a rooster..... Have a good day, everyone. Laura.

"Jolly Barnyard"

Maybe it's time to write about the sometimes not-so-nice aspects of milking a cow.  I think I've put it in funny terms, or otherwise, glowing terms before.  I still love it, and it IS where I want to be at this point in my life, but.....a couple of things are the "reality" in the midst of the wholesome, fulfilling experience.  My mom reminded me about when my little brother Marc was a kid, and (I think this was probably genius on my mom's part), instead of wailing and making a huge scene whenever we passed a farm that smelled a bit ripe, my brother Marc was encouraged to say cheerfully "Jolly Barnyard!"  ;)  That "ripe" smell is the theme of the day......and yesterday, too. Last night, Bess was a little disgruntled that I didn't include the nice, green alfalfa with her usual grassy hay to munch on (simple enough--it was past time to milk her and the alfalfa bales are on the second floor.  I didn't take the time to trudge up there to bring down another 50+ pound bale.  She apparently didn't take my consideration for her comfort into account before her mood set in......).  She started nosing through what I gave her, looking for the tiny little crunchy leaves, and (whether she meant it as a commentary or not), promptly lifted her tail and let loose with a soggy mass that splatted right under her tail.  I'm right there, getting ready to milk her, and now there's a steaming pile of poo just a foot away from me.  I was SO thankful for my muck boots at that moment! She kept shifting around, maybe because of the lack of alfalfa, maybe because when I milk the infected back quarter it is uncomfortable for her.  I can't imagine that it DOESN'T feel a bit uncomfortable to have someone messing around to relieve the pressure inside a sore udder.  For whatever reason, she stuck her foot right in the cow pie.  By that time, it was cold enough that the lovely odor had kind of sealed itself in, but Bess reactivated it.  Sigh....  The milk bucket was in danger of being stepped in or knocked over as I tried to empty out that sore quarter.   There's always has to be a plan B, I'm finding out.  I've been milking the good quarters into one bucket, while aiming the teat on the last quarter towards a separate bucket as it starts shooting out a stream of slightly curdly-looking milk towards the "healthy" bucket.  With all the foot-shifting going on, it was time to move the family milk out of harm's way.  No problem, it just meant dealing with a cow that couldn't decide where to plant her delicate but encrusted hooves.  And the gallon of milk for the family was saved--Hooray!!! This morning, poop was again the theme.  First thing I see as I walk through the door from the main part of the barn is one humongous cow pie with a humongous butt-print in it.  Sure enough, Bess had probably thought it was a nice warm place to plant her rear for the night, and most of the milking side of her and half of her udder was covered.  And her tail.  And her leg.  Lovely.  It made for interesting cleaning techniques, to say the least.....but the milk was gotten without any manure bits taking the dive from cow into bucket.   Usually I lean my head against her side, for my own comfort but also to remind her that I'm still there, and that she needs to stay in place.  Not today.  I didn't take the time to clean her whole side completely before starting, so (while last night it was a foot away from me and steaming-fresh on the ground) now the invigorating aroma of fresh-manure-in-the-morning was right there, while I tried to keep my cheek from touching even the tips of her cow-hairs as I milked her.  Gross, but kind of humorous in a way.   But it gets even better!  Her discomfort about that back quarter continued, and this time she decided to back out of the stanchion a few times to look me in the eye (putting the hard-won milk at risk each time), and to flick her tail.  I'd been warned about getting flicked in the eye with a manure-encrusted tail, and was VERY thankful that I saw it coming in time and flinched away.   I AM getting better about not grabbing the milk pail in a panic and springing back when she tries to move.  I don't know if it helped, but I patted her side each time she tried to back out early, told her that we weren't done yet, and repositioned myself to milk her where she was now standing.  It seemed to assure her that we truly weren't done yet, and she would slowly turn back to the hay that was still there for her. Anyway, I still love having both Bess and Lucy as part of our little farm, and didn't really mind all that much that there was twice as much manure to shovel today as usual, but I truly hope I don't have to get QUITE so up-close-and-personal with it again for a while.  At the end of the shovel is one thing.  Inches from my face is another. And on that happy note, I'll wish you all a wonderful no-manure day (which everyone except cousin Vonda, her husband Greg, and Farmer Bob should be able to enjoy!)  :)  Hopefully no-one is disgusted or offended by a poop-discussion so early in the morning. Love, Laura.