Pete!
How do I know this?
Well, once again I have gotten ahead of myself in telling the story.
So "lets start at the very beginning, a very good place to start!"
(anyone know where that very famous quote is from?)
We left our peacock saga with many cliff hangers:
1)ll the peacock ever leave the roof?
2)Will "Roo" ever recover from his fall from glory?
3)Will the peacock ever be claimed by its rightful owner?
4)Will Dixie Dawg ever make it out of the laundry room?
The answers:
1)Yes! The peacock left the roof and nested for the night in a nearby tree.
2)Roo is ego maniacal and has short term memory loss. He is fine.
3)See below *
4) You will be relieved to know that Dixie Dawg had resigned herself to her laundry room sentence, had made the best of it and was found reclining on a laundry pile of dirty jeans with all the airs of a diva at a spa. She was almost reluctant to be "sprung from laundry room jail" and laid there yawning for a few minutes before she nonchalantly resumed her post as chief enforcer of the premises.
So as to question #3...
*Once I had the immediate threat named Dixie Dawg contained in the laundry room, I drove a little distance down an adjoining dusty road that turns on to yet another dusty road. I was working off an old memory of driving down this road once and seeing a guinea hen on the side of the road. I thought that guineas sounded like a good place to start in my search for the origin of the peacock. I turned into a long lane of cedars to an opening with a home, a camper, a truck and two people standing beside a car in the driveway.
I said hello and asked if anyone here was missing a peacock. A question that I figured would either make me look certifiable OR helpful depending on whether I had found the right place or not.
Fortunately the relieved and happy look on the mans face was encouraging.
Here is our conversation as best I can recall it...
Me - Hi I found a peacock down on my farm over that way (pointing) I wonder if you know anything about it?
He - Pete! She found Pete! (looking rapturously at his friend)
Me - So his name is Pete huh? Ok. He is safe for now but he is very far from home and I have a LOT of dogs and I don't think he is safe at my place.
He - So where is your place?
Me- Giving descriptions and getting a blank look I realized I needed to resort to the time honored way of giving directions this far out in the country. I live down the Webster family road (what the road was called before it got a real name back in the 60s) I'm just after you pass the Campbell's place? (mentioning the founding farmers of our area)
He- (brightening and getting much friendlier) oh yeah, Pete Campbell married my cousin Mary.
Me- I know Mary, (feeling like I just discovered the open sesame code word) she gets cow manure from me.
With that little bit of rural southern "who's your daddy" etiquette behind us, he seemed to relax and so I mentioned "Pete" again...
So..."Pete" is up in a tree and like I said I have dogs that are not going to understand why he has showed up? (asked as a question)
He - (reaching casually over to the top of a rusty unused grill to retrieve his can of beer) This hear is my cousin Cyndi he said (pausing to take a swallow from the can while Cyndi nodded.) She checks in on me. I'm a widower.
Me - Oh I'm sorry (no earthly idea what one is supposed to say other than that at this point)
Cyndi checked her watch and declared that she had to be off to work. Night shift at the post office.
I drug the conversation, such as it was, back to "Pete".
Me- So what do you want to do about Pete? I'm really worried about him getting home safely.
He- You are a nice lady. ( while popping the top on a fresh beer) He then suggested maybe I could catch "Pete" and bring him home?
Me- Oh nooo.....I can barely catch my chickens. I am too afraid. Can you come get him?
He - No. I am too drunk tonight to do that. I'm getting ready to go to bed in a few minutes.
Me (wringing my hands mentally) but what about Pete? If he comes down out of that tree the dogs will get him!
He- Oh well. If they do they do.
Me- You wont feel that way tomorrow
He - Hes not hard to catch. Once you put the net over him his very easy to pick up, He's mostly feathers.
Me- The net? Well you see I don't have a "net".
He- (with a look of sodden incredulity) you don't have a fishin net?
Me - (feeling as though I am being outed for the yuppie that i am having only worked the land here for 20 years which makes me practically a newcomer) I um.. I don't fish I said lamely. Effectively canceling out all the good will I had engendered by living near the Campbell's. There was a bleary side glance to his cousin as this information was slowly processed by him and Milwaukee Light.
Feeling very benevolent he said "Well here, you can borrow my net" and with that he walked with the slow purposeful movement to a shed and took a net off of a hook. He walked toward my car for all intents and purposes seeming ready to shove a huge fishing net attached to a ten foot long aluminum pole into my open drivers door.
Cyndi and I intervened and I left holding the net by the pole outside my care while I drove 2 miles down long sandy roads back to my house looking like almost as big of an idiot as I felt.
When I got home, "Pete" had settled in the top of an oak and tucked his head under his wing and was done with us for the day.
With no peacock scent on the ground, Dixie was off to her own pursuits. I hung the net with its super long pole in a tree near "Pete's" night accommodation and called it a day.
The following morning "Pete" was no where to be found. There where nor tail feathers leaving a trail of carnage and the dogs acted as bored as usual.
Later that day I drove down the lane and returned the fishing net.
Pete was marching the yard of his owner doing quarter turns with his hens watching admiringly.
All's well that ends well.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Just when you think you have seen everything...
when you think that your day is almost over, twilight is falling and things are wrapping up.
That time of day when you are done with this particular day, whatever it is you did or didn't plan or get done.
The land is cooling off from the heat of the afternoon. Thoughts turn to dinner, a nice bath, a good book.
THAT is exactly where the danger lies my friends! This is called being in a RUT.
Albeit a nice comfortable rut (that we prefer to call a routine)!
Then something happens and you and your comfy routine, and your relaxed blasé "I know how the rest of this day is going to go" attitude get a total shock.
It hits hard and fast and bounces you right out of your rut. Causing you to shake your head and laugh and call to people nearby so they can come see and be amazed too.
Then if youre the kind of fool that never has their camera handy at such important times (ahem) you holler for everyone to freeze right where they are, while you run for your camera and of course there is no freeze frame on life, so no one listens and you make it back to the scene of jaw dropping amazement and take the best pictures you can at 8 o'clock at night and just hope you do the moment some kind of justice....
and then....
you post them on your blog!~
(but wait - I'm getting ahead of myself)
It was twilight and another gorgeous sunset was rapidly becoming a thing of the past. I was driving the beef cows toward their pen after an afternoon of grazing. I have found it works better for me and them if I do this slowly, letting them eat and browse, grabbing last delicious mouthfuls here and there as they walk in basically the "right" direction (north). Once we are within sight distance of the gate to their enclosure, they usually go right on in, anxious for a long deep drink of water from the trough.
We had meandered our/their way over the distance of about a mile. The cows staying bunched in a loose casual circle while they walked and grazed their way forward. We were within about 100 feet of their enclosure when the lead steer stopped to munch again, which was of course the signal for the entire bunch to do the same, which was (of course)the signal for me to stop about 15 feet away on the golf cart ( my version of a horse) and pick up my book for a 5 or 10 minute read. We are creatures of our routine and we like it that way.
About three sentences into my book I heard snorting, followed by moo-ing followed by cows breaking their informal loosely held circle and going in every direction the way a cue stick breaks a rack of balls in a game of pool.
My biggest fear was of course a rattlesnake but the steers didn't seem panicked, they seemed more flustered than anything and they were quickly regrouping in a tight bunch, all staring in the same direction.
As I looked in the direction they were staring, a peacock marching sedately, as though leading a parade! He marched past the bewildered cattle and down the lane. I saw a yellow blur (Dixie Dawg) out the corner of my eye, she was moving fast and coming at a right angle straght toward the peacock who only in that moment saw the dog.
There wasn't even time to ask the obvious questions was that really a peacock? how did it get here? where would it even come from? when the peacock saw the furious, fast moving yellow blur streaking to him and something in his 1and 1/2 inch skull said RUN and so he abandoned his grand march with his beautiful trailing feathers, in favor of the worlds most awkward attempt to hoist himself into the air. Which he managed to do exactly one tenth of a second before Pitt bull jaws tried to clamp on turquoise tail feathers only to get nothing but air.
The peacock landed on the roof of my house, turned around to stare down at the still furious barking dog on the ground below him and opened his mouth (beak) to make a noise as exotic as himself.
For one split second we all forgot we were in rural "no where-ville" and were transported to thoughts of a rain forest by the peacocks exotic tone as he looked down (both literally and figuratively) on the dog below.
Next he strolled down the south side of the roof to take a look at ground conditions there while one dog, one human and 15 cows all watched in silence
Apparently he was looking for a good spot to leave his perch on the roof and continue on his majestic journey. Not liking the odds where we all watched, mouths gaping, he turned in a magnificent sweep of tail feathers and began to walk the length of the roof to the other end.
On reaching to end of the roof...
"His Majesty" turned (this guy made more dramatic quarter turns than a soldier on parade)to look down down at the yard below. The scene was much more peaceful as I had managed to corral the dog inside the laundry room and the cows, attention diverted, had quit looking upward when one of them spied a weed growing in the yard that they all had to try and taste.
There was only one lone soul for the peacock to take the measure of below...
Thats right. Poor "Roo" was standing there innocently plucking at leaves, knowing internally as he does everyday, that he is "Cock o the walk" in his little kingdom, the fairest of them all.
and then...
a shadow falls over him. He looks up. The sound he made would defy description. It was a strangling noise and he tilted sideways looking up, like he couldnt believe what he was seeing! Then he high tailed it a safe distance away, flapped his wings and crowed in a slightly wobbly and high pitched "Im not threatened at all - no siree" kind of cry.
Poor guy...must have felt like being the hometown "hottie" that all the girls swoon over. Captain of the football team. Class president. All the "chicks" in town dig you.
and then one day,
Brad Pitt walks casually in the door. Reducing you in one moment into a lesser role.
So what happens next on "As the Farm Turns?
Will the peacock ever leave the roof?
Will "Roo" ever recover from his fall from glory?
Will the peacock ever be claimed by its rightful owner?
Will Dixie Dawg ever make it out of the laundry room?
stay tuned for more after these messages....
when you think that your day is almost over, twilight is falling and things are wrapping up.
That time of day when you are done with this particular day, whatever it is you did or didn't plan or get done.
The land is cooling off from the heat of the afternoon. Thoughts turn to dinner, a nice bath, a good book.
THAT is exactly where the danger lies my friends! This is called being in a RUT.
Albeit a nice comfortable rut (that we prefer to call a routine)!
Then something happens and you and your comfy routine, and your relaxed blasé "I know how the rest of this day is going to go" attitude get a total shock.
It hits hard and fast and bounces you right out of your rut. Causing you to shake your head and laugh and call to people nearby so they can come see and be amazed too.
Then if youre the kind of fool that never has their camera handy at such important times (ahem) you holler for everyone to freeze right where they are, while you run for your camera and of course there is no freeze frame on life, so no one listens and you make it back to the scene of jaw dropping amazement and take the best pictures you can at 8 o'clock at night and just hope you do the moment some kind of justice....
and then....
you post them on your blog!~
(but wait - I'm getting ahead of myself)
It was twilight and another gorgeous sunset was rapidly becoming a thing of the past. I was driving the beef cows toward their pen after an afternoon of grazing. I have found it works better for me and them if I do this slowly, letting them eat and browse, grabbing last delicious mouthfuls here and there as they walk in basically the "right" direction (north). Once we are within sight distance of the gate to their enclosure, they usually go right on in, anxious for a long deep drink of water from the trough.
We had meandered our/their way over the distance of about a mile. The cows staying bunched in a loose casual circle while they walked and grazed their way forward. We were within about 100 feet of their enclosure when the lead steer stopped to munch again, which was of course the signal for the entire bunch to do the same, which was (of course)the signal for me to stop about 15 feet away on the golf cart ( my version of a horse) and pick up my book for a 5 or 10 minute read. We are creatures of our routine and we like it that way.
About three sentences into my book I heard snorting, followed by moo-ing followed by cows breaking their informal loosely held circle and going in every direction the way a cue stick breaks a rack of balls in a game of pool.
My biggest fear was of course a rattlesnake but the steers didn't seem panicked, they seemed more flustered than anything and they were quickly regrouping in a tight bunch, all staring in the same direction.
As I looked in the direction they were staring, a peacock marching sedately, as though leading a parade! He marched past the bewildered cattle and down the lane. I saw a yellow blur (Dixie Dawg) out the corner of my eye, she was moving fast and coming at a right angle straght toward the peacock who only in that moment saw the dog.
There wasn't even time to ask the obvious questions was that really a peacock? how did it get here? where would it even come from? when the peacock saw the furious, fast moving yellow blur streaking to him and something in his 1and 1/2 inch skull said RUN and so he abandoned his grand march with his beautiful trailing feathers, in favor of the worlds most awkward attempt to hoist himself into the air. Which he managed to do exactly one tenth of a second before Pitt bull jaws tried to clamp on turquoise tail feathers only to get nothing but air.
The peacock landed on the roof of my house, turned around to stare down at the still furious barking dog on the ground below him and opened his mouth (beak) to make a noise as exotic as himself.
For one split second we all forgot we were in rural "no where-ville" and were transported to thoughts of a rain forest by the peacocks exotic tone as he looked down (both literally and figuratively) on the dog below.
Next he strolled down the south side of the roof to take a look at ground conditions there while one dog, one human and 15 cows all watched in silence
Apparently he was looking for a good spot to leave his perch on the roof and continue on his majestic journey. Not liking the odds where we all watched, mouths gaping, he turned in a magnificent sweep of tail feathers and began to walk the length of the roof to the other end.
On reaching to end of the roof...
"His Majesty" turned (this guy made more dramatic quarter turns than a soldier on parade)to look down down at the yard below. The scene was much more peaceful as I had managed to corral the dog inside the laundry room and the cows, attention diverted, had quit looking upward when one of them spied a weed growing in the yard that they all had to try and taste.
There was only one lone soul for the peacock to take the measure of below...
Thats right. Poor "Roo" was standing there innocently plucking at leaves, knowing internally as he does everyday, that he is "Cock o the walk" in his little kingdom, the fairest of them all.
and then...
a shadow falls over him. He looks up. The sound he made would defy description. It was a strangling noise and he tilted sideways looking up, like he couldnt believe what he was seeing! Then he high tailed it a safe distance away, flapped his wings and crowed in a slightly wobbly and high pitched "Im not threatened at all - no siree" kind of cry.
Poor guy...must have felt like being the hometown "hottie" that all the girls swoon over. Captain of the football team. Class president. All the "chicks" in town dig you.
and then one day,
Brad Pitt walks casually in the door. Reducing you in one moment into a lesser role.
So what happens next on "As the Farm Turns?
Will the peacock ever leave the roof?
Will "Roo" ever recover from his fall from glory?
Will the peacock ever be claimed by its rightful owner?
Will Dixie Dawg ever make it out of the laundry room?
stay tuned for more after these messages....
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Let Them Eat Cake!
Once again I had a "neighbor visit and drop off food!
Either I am incredibly fortunate and have really great neighbors
OR
I am desperately ill and no one is telling me!
So here's the scoop;
This beautiful slice of cake showed up at my door...
Oh, and the neighbor is beautiful too - but this is ALL about the cake. Focus!
She said she was trying a new recipe.....she said it wasn't quite what she wanted...so she took it "off the road" recipe wise (did I mention she is very brave that way?) and started adding and pretty soon she came up with this:
A honey butter cake she calls it....baked in thin layers till it has a slight crispness. Each layer separated by blackberry jam - barely sweet and tasting mostly of fruity blackberry goodness - homemade from her own blackberries no less. And finally iced with a sugary icing that smells of vanilla.
That would be real vanilla folks.
As in not artificial flavoring. No cardboard box. No thaw before serving instructions, no artificial food coloring....
just a real cake with real fruit, made be a real girl.
Either I am incredibly fortunate and have really great neighbors
OR
I am desperately ill and no one is telling me!
So here's the scoop;
This beautiful slice of cake showed up at my door...
Oh, and the neighbor is beautiful too - but this is ALL about the cake. Focus!
She said she was trying a new recipe.....she said it wasn't quite what she wanted...so she took it "off the road" recipe wise (did I mention she is very brave that way?) and started adding and pretty soon she came up with this:
A honey butter cake she calls it....baked in thin layers till it has a slight crispness. Each layer separated by blackberry jam - barely sweet and tasting mostly of fruity blackberry goodness - homemade from her own blackberries no less. And finally iced with a sugary icing that smells of vanilla.
That would be real vanilla folks.
As in not artificial flavoring. No cardboard box. No thaw before serving instructions, no artificial food coloring....
just a real cake with real fruit, made be a real girl.
Desperate For Rain
Aprils long dry cool days have continued into May only minus the cool part!
With the hot dry wind and no real rain in over a month, the lush pasture for my grass fed beef steers is all gone.
What to do?
I cant just feed them grain. That undoes the whole premise of grass fed. I cant let them survive on just hay. They could survive but they wouldn't grow and that is the whole point.
The next best thing seems to be to allow them out to free range on the hay field.
The same hay field that was beautiful with flowers last year.
see here
http://writingsfromblackberryhill.blogspot.com/2009/07/field-of-flowers.html
After it got mowed down, it got plowed under and after lying dormant for the winter has burst out in all its spring glory as green as a golf course.
The problem (and trust me - there will be a problem sooner or later) is going to be
keeping the young steers out of the rye field to the East, which is about ready for harvest and off the road to the West and I don't even wanna think about what happens if they head South and get mixed in with the dairy cows!
Ok, one thing at a time. My trusty assistant goes and gets the poor hapless steers who have no concept of what they are supposed to do
They like the idea though!
And settle right down to business...salad and a martini for everyone! Hooray!
After about three minutes....
"Are they done yet? Its hot!"
"What do you mean hot? Its only 92!" I say enthusiastically.
She does NOT seem impressed...
Seems I remember something in her union contract about lemonade....
"Watch the cows...I am going for lemonade and cookies, ok?
She still is just not catching my enthusiasm...I'd better hurry...
Fast forward two minutesand I return to see...
she has left her mechanized "ride" and is on foot with a staff no less!
That's my little sheperdess!
p.s. yes, I realize there are no sheep here, but doesnt sheperdess just sound nice?
With the hot dry wind and no real rain in over a month, the lush pasture for my grass fed beef steers is all gone.
What to do?
I cant just feed them grain. That undoes the whole premise of grass fed. I cant let them survive on just hay. They could survive but they wouldn't grow and that is the whole point.
The next best thing seems to be to allow them out to free range on the hay field.
The same hay field that was beautiful with flowers last year.
see here
http://writingsfromblackberryhill.blogspot.com/2009/07/field-of-flowers.html
After it got mowed down, it got plowed under and after lying dormant for the winter has burst out in all its spring glory as green as a golf course.
The problem (and trust me - there will be a problem sooner or later) is going to be
keeping the young steers out of the rye field to the East, which is about ready for harvest and off the road to the West and I don't even wanna think about what happens if they head South and get mixed in with the dairy cows!
Ok, one thing at a time. My trusty assistant goes and gets the poor hapless steers who have no concept of what they are supposed to do
They like the idea though!
And settle right down to business...salad and a martini for everyone! Hooray!
After about three minutes....
"Are they done yet? Its hot!"
"What do you mean hot? Its only 92!" I say enthusiastically.
She does NOT seem impressed...
Seems I remember something in her union contract about lemonade....
"Watch the cows...I am going for lemonade and cookies, ok?
She still is just not catching my enthusiasm...I'd better hurry...
Fast forward two minutesand I return to see...
she has left her mechanized "ride" and is on foot with a staff no less!
That's my little sheperdess!
p.s. yes, I realize there are no sheep here, but doesnt sheperdess just sound nice?
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Tuesday Morning Coming Down
Aren't neighbors wonderful?
NOT the annoying kind ...
but the ones that just drop by to say hello and just maybe perhaps bring a little gift?
I have that kind of neighbor.
She grows a beautiful garden full lettuces of all kinds and tomatoes and herbs and sunflowers. She also bakes wonderful earthy artisan breads with fresh wheat, sunflower seeds and whatever else strikes her fancy.
So today she dropped by and brought the basket above, complete with a little jar of salad dressing. Crusty delicious bread and a salad so fresh it came out of the garden this morning.
I really love my neighbor.
I think I might just stop in to see her one day this week. Bring along some fresh raw milk with cream on top, along with some eggs from the Diva chickens who run this joint!
NOT the annoying kind ...
but the ones that just drop by to say hello and just maybe perhaps bring a little gift?
I have that kind of neighbor.
She grows a beautiful garden full lettuces of all kinds and tomatoes and herbs and sunflowers. She also bakes wonderful earthy artisan breads with fresh wheat, sunflower seeds and whatever else strikes her fancy.
So today she dropped by and brought the basket above, complete with a little jar of salad dressing. Crusty delicious bread and a salad so fresh it came out of the garden this morning.
I really love my neighbor.
I think I might just stop in to see her one day this week. Bring along some fresh raw milk with cream on top, along with some eggs from the Diva chickens who run this joint!
Friday, May 7, 2010
TGIF
Dont forget to take some time to have a little fun...
kick up your heels a bit...
enjoy life a little,
Happy Friday everyone.
kick up your heels a bit...
enjoy life a little,
Happy Friday everyone.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Bovine Buffet
We've all seen it, right?
That kid that butts ahead in the school lunch line, or the adult at the movie theatre ticket line or for that matter any kind of situation that involves waiting patiently for a desired thing.
There's always that "one" that just cant seem to think that decorum or manners apply to them....
While they may irritate with their crassness, you do have to admire their ability to take being glared at by all the passive aggressive aggrieved ones around them. Some (like New Jersey evidently) look around to see if anyone else notices this outrageous behavior
This bovine butinski howerver does NOT approve of others doing what she is in fact doing and warns them to back off with a glare and loud huffing noises...
An inherent part of being "one of those who chose the best places" is a terrific ability to absolutely not care about those who would try to censor their behavoir through glances and stares.
You lookin at me?
"Take a picture lady, it'll last longer..."
See what I mean? Its all about the attitude~
That kid that butts ahead in the school lunch line, or the adult at the movie theatre ticket line or for that matter any kind of situation that involves waiting patiently for a desired thing.
There's always that "one" that just cant seem to think that decorum or manners apply to them....
While they may irritate with their crassness, you do have to admire their ability to take being glared at by all the passive aggressive aggrieved ones around them. Some (like New Jersey evidently) look around to see if anyone else notices this outrageous behavior
This bovine butinski howerver does NOT approve of others doing what she is in fact doing and warns them to back off with a glare and loud huffing noises...
An inherent part of being "one of those who chose the best places" is a terrific ability to absolutely not care about those who would try to censor their behavoir through glances and stares.
You lookin at me?
"Take a picture lady, it'll last longer..."
See what I mean? Its all about the attitude~
Monday, May 3, 2010
A Conversation With Turkey Lurky...
Most of you who read here will remember her...
She got her name from her very unique and slightly retarded (in a most endearing way) cockeyed dippity do cockscomb on top of her head.
See what I mean?
It seemed to be belaboring the obvious to name her "Cocky Locky", how lacking in imagination would that be? So she is named after "Cocky Locky's" pal....
"Turkey Lurky"
Much better name - one that you didnt see coming.
Edgy.
Unpredictable.
A name she completely embraces and lives up to.
While other chickens peck and cluck. "Turkey Lurky" carries on a conversation.
She follows all the rules of good conversation making.
She gets on your level and makes good eye contact..
She waits for you to speak and then opens her mouth when its her "turn"
Tonight's topic of concern was about those low life neighbors of ours,
especially this one in particular...
Seems he has been growling when she and her her "peeps" (yes, I really did just say that...) try to check out his food bowl. Worse than the growling, which he has always done and which they have always ignored, he has now taken to laying down on top of his food bowl...something that they cannot ignore because he weighs 160 pounds and there are laws involving physics and size and so on that just completely are beyond "Turkey Lurkys" immediate control.
While I sympathized with her plight, I was forced to point out these same laws of physics prevent me from moving "Blue" from any spot he chooses to be in, so really she and I am in the same boat so to speak....This caused much shaking back and forth of her little head
along with her well thought out reply that speaking of being in boats, if I would quit gallivanting off to the beach and stay home and dole out the cracked corn in a more timely fashion, she wouldn't have to worry about eyeing the Purina.....
and with that...
"Game, set, match"
And the conversational winner is:
"Turkey Lurky!"
She got her name from her very unique and slightly retarded (in a most endearing way) cockeyed dippity do cockscomb on top of her head.
See what I mean?
It seemed to be belaboring the obvious to name her "Cocky Locky", how lacking in imagination would that be? So she is named after "Cocky Locky's" pal....
"Turkey Lurky"
Much better name - one that you didnt see coming.
Edgy.
Unpredictable.
A name she completely embraces and lives up to.
While other chickens peck and cluck. "Turkey Lurky" carries on a conversation.
She follows all the rules of good conversation making.
She gets on your level and makes good eye contact..
She waits for you to speak and then opens her mouth when its her "turn"
Tonight's topic of concern was about those low life neighbors of ours,
especially this one in particular...
Seems he has been growling when she and her her "peeps" (yes, I really did just say that...) try to check out his food bowl. Worse than the growling, which he has always done and which they have always ignored, he has now taken to laying down on top of his food bowl...something that they cannot ignore because he weighs 160 pounds and there are laws involving physics and size and so on that just completely are beyond "Turkey Lurkys" immediate control.
While I sympathized with her plight, I was forced to point out these same laws of physics prevent me from moving "Blue" from any spot he chooses to be in, so really she and I am in the same boat so to speak....This caused much shaking back and forth of her little head
along with her well thought out reply that speaking of being in boats, if I would quit gallivanting off to the beach and stay home and dole out the cracked corn in a more timely fashion, she wouldn't have to worry about eyeing the Purina.....
and with that...
"Game, set, match"
And the conversational winner is:
"Turkey Lurky!"
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Going Back, part II
If there were a new Key West it would be here...
"Far from the madding crowd" (and minus Gabriel, Bathsheba and Boldwood)on the isolated and character filled shores of the west coast.
Here was a chance to sit on an upstairs deck over a glass of wine and watch as the tide went out and the oyster beds became visible, like rocky shoals under the formerly placid water.
To greet the pelicans and egrets that drop by, curious and at home here,
This one especially,
Our hostess confesses that she regularly buys raw shrimp just for him.
Which probably explains why he follows her inside the front door...
The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea.
Isak Dinesen
"Far from the madding crowd" (and minus Gabriel, Bathsheba and Boldwood)on the isolated and character filled shores of the west coast.
Here was a chance to sit on an upstairs deck over a glass of wine and watch as the tide went out and the oyster beds became visible, like rocky shoals under the formerly placid water.
To greet the pelicans and egrets that drop by, curious and at home here,
This one especially,
Our hostess confesses that she regularly buys raw shrimp just for him.
Which probably explains why he follows her inside the front door...
The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea.
Isak Dinesen
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Going Back....
I got a wonderful opportunity to take a trip to the small fishing village known as Cedar Key.
From the moment you cross the bridge leaving the mainland with pelicans lined along the way as though standing guard, you feel your soul ratchet down.
This beauty is the exact contrast to my normal hay meadow cow filled existance.
Simple things like this sign, which you would never see inland amaze me
Farm raised clams? A different kind of farming for sure.
Part of a road side stand with lots of local jams and jellies and peppers.
But the real draw is of course,
Little tin roof pavillions and grills leading to a white sand beach
Interesting animals - this is called a Horseshoe crab
Covered in barnacles, going through life together. While I appreciate the symbiotic -ness, it looks a little, well....burdensome doesnt it?
The wharf marks the start of a protected swimming area. The bouys are holding a net in place that stops sharks and other large critters from coming in any closer
I wondered what happens if there is a hole in the net but I seemed to be the only one concerned so I didnt say anything.
A person can stand with toes sinking in sand and warm gulf waters swirling around the ankles, smell the salt and fish in the air and think that life could not possibly get any better.
"Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air." -
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson
From the moment you cross the bridge leaving the mainland with pelicans lined along the way as though standing guard, you feel your soul ratchet down.
This beauty is the exact contrast to my normal hay meadow cow filled existance.
Simple things like this sign, which you would never see inland amaze me
Farm raised clams? A different kind of farming for sure.
Part of a road side stand with lots of local jams and jellies and peppers.
But the real draw is of course,
Little tin roof pavillions and grills leading to a white sand beach
Interesting animals - this is called a Horseshoe crab
Covered in barnacles, going through life together. While I appreciate the symbiotic -ness, it looks a little, well....burdensome doesnt it?
The wharf marks the start of a protected swimming area. The bouys are holding a net in place that stops sharks and other large critters from coming in any closer
I wondered what happens if there is a hole in the net but I seemed to be the only one concerned so I didnt say anything.
A person can stand with toes sinking in sand and warm gulf waters swirling around the ankles, smell the salt and fish in the air and think that life could not possibly get any better.
"Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air." -
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson
Thursday, April 22, 2010
One short month later...
and here we are with our young, skinny and misunderstood steers....
after 4 1/2 weeks of grazing on nutritive grass with a protein block to lick and a mineral bar for supplements and of course fresh water (with gold fish keeping the tank free of algae)
here is what we have...
mind you, that conventional wisdom says they should have been grain feed and vaccinated and wormed within an inch of their lives....
which of course hasn't happened.
Yes, they got wormed and they got their baby vaccines. But that is where we stepped off the mainstream trail of thinking.
Now they are living the life of "Born Free".
They choose what to eat when.
The difference in one short month is enough to make your eyeballs fall out.
They have each gained between 75 -100 pounds. They run. They kick up their heels.
When I watch them, I get the feeling the y are living their authentic cow life.
Here are a few updated shots.
The littliest Princess has named the steer on the right "New Jersey".
our conversation-
her - "What kind of cow is that?"
me - "He is a Jersey"
her - Ok! Lets name him New Jersey then!"
me - Do you know what New Jersey is?
her - "A cow."
alrighty then!
Isnt he getting big? (and so pretty!)
A happy, easy, life...
and of course none of it would get done without Mr. Blue's help!
after 4 1/2 weeks of grazing on nutritive grass with a protein block to lick and a mineral bar for supplements and of course fresh water (with gold fish keeping the tank free of algae)
here is what we have...
mind you, that conventional wisdom says they should have been grain feed and vaccinated and wormed within an inch of their lives....
which of course hasn't happened.
Yes, they got wormed and they got their baby vaccines. But that is where we stepped off the mainstream trail of thinking.
Now they are living the life of "Born Free".
They choose what to eat when.
The difference in one short month is enough to make your eyeballs fall out.
They have each gained between 75 -100 pounds. They run. They kick up their heels.
When I watch them, I get the feeling the y are living their authentic cow life.
Here are a few updated shots.
The littliest Princess has named the steer on the right "New Jersey".
our conversation-
her - "What kind of cow is that?"
me - "He is a Jersey"
her - Ok! Lets name him New Jersey then!"
me - Do you know what New Jersey is?
her - "A cow."
alrighty then!
Isnt he getting big? (and so pretty!)
A happy, easy, life...
and of course none of it would get done without Mr. Blue's help!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
17 On the Green!
You have probably heard about the havoc our current economy has wreaked on beef prices and milk prices and so on and so on. Normally on a dairy farm the female calves are kept and raised to be milk cows someday and the bull calves are sold either for a young 4H student or maybe to a family that want to try their hand at raising a cow or two. Normally we have a call waiting list by our phone of people looking for a calf to buy.
With the high price of grain and hay people aren't wanting to tackle that big of a project lately and as for the market? Well just to give you an idea, we took 4 young bulls in and after the fees the market would charge to sell livestock for you in their auction not only would we have not received one red cent we were going to end up owing the market a $17.00 handling fee!
Needless to say, we loaded our "boys" back up and they came home with us. Now what to do with them? We couldn't really afford to invest a lot in them since basically they were not ever going to have a "career" on a dairy.
Forced to think outside my normal box I came up with an idea. I have been reading a lot about grass fed beef and the health advantages it offers. It seems whats old is new again. I hadn't fully realized that beef wasn't grass fed anymore. I guess the way it is done currently is the cows are on pasture up until market age and then they are sold off of the ranch to a "finishing lot" where they are stuffed to their gills (sorry for the fish analogy) with grain. The problem with that is there is a mounting body of evidence that grains esp. corn and wheat (the ones primarily used in feed lots) are inflammatory foods for the body of a mammal. The logic follows that if mammal(cow) eats it and then it is consumed by another mammal (human) we end up being the recipient of inflammatory food. There is a lot more to it then just the above. You can google "grass feed beef" and come up with fascinating study after study covering highly entertaining reads about long chain fatty acids and the benefits to the human body if you have insomnia some night OR you can just keep reading this blog and learn all about it here along with me as this is a first and I am learning as I go.
I wish I had a big red velvet curtain to pull down and a big TA DA to go with it but consider yourself the first to know that I am officially in the GRASS FED COW RAISIN BUSINESS!
One thing this economy has taught, is that sometimes if you want a job you need to create it yourself. These little bull calves needed a job in the worst way! Something to justify their existence. A bovine purpose in life!
Here is what I did.
We had one grassy pasture that was empty. We turned the bulls into steers and put them out there. They had grass, hay, water and just a mere dusting of grain on the very coldest of days so they could survive. My reasoning was this...even is third world countries where conditions are dire there are still cows. You have seen them in National Geographic and so have I. Now I doubt those third world cows are getting fed high quality custom mixed dairy feed ration from the U.S.
In fact I'm almost sure they are not. I think they are surviving on foraging. Its not ideal but it is better than the alternative, right? Another thing... I grew up watching Bonanza and The Big Valley and remember them driving the cows down from the mountains in the fall where they had foraged all summer.
So forage we did.
Meanwhile I needed a place to start feeding them a high quality nutritive grass (instead of just pasture grass) if I was serious about trying to raise a high quality cow. Alas for the horses their wonderful home was the perfect place so I moved them and their hay ring to another field and we planted rye in that well fertilized horse pasture. every few days I would go measure the grass. It needed to be six inches high for foraging. Finally this week the day came!
The steers were rounded up and loaded for the trip from that far back pasture up to the front of the farm. They had no idea how life was about to change. From subsistence to abundance. Add in the fact that they had never seen a house or any other of the trappings of civilization and you can imagine the culture shock.
They hesitantly stepped out of the stock trailer in one bunch. They look sturdy but skinny, young but "tough" like little Ninja warriors or like the "Lost Boys" fresh off the island in Peter Pan.
I made a small pen with a water trough, hay, a protein lick and minerals. In researching this I learned that they cannot go from sparse conditions to lush grass all at once. My plan was to let them out for a couple of hours a day until they got acclimated.
When I first opened the gate on all the greenness they were a little hesitant. What is that???
They licked it instead of eating it...
Once they caught on they REALLY caught on! Didn't even mind eating in the rain.
Beautiful.
To everyone but the horses that is! Cast out of "their" old stomping grounds and replaced by short little varmints of a lesser god...their expressions were incredulous. They stared across the fence with disbelief.
Can you say "WHAT THE HECK?"
With everyone settling in all that remained was for Mr Blue to take the ride back to the farm in an empty cattle trailer.
One of his favorite things to do!
With the high price of grain and hay people aren't wanting to tackle that big of a project lately and as for the market? Well just to give you an idea, we took 4 young bulls in and after the fees the market would charge to sell livestock for you in their auction not only would we have not received one red cent we were going to end up owing the market a $17.00 handling fee!
Needless to say, we loaded our "boys" back up and they came home with us. Now what to do with them? We couldn't really afford to invest a lot in them since basically they were not ever going to have a "career" on a dairy.
Forced to think outside my normal box I came up with an idea. I have been reading a lot about grass fed beef and the health advantages it offers. It seems whats old is new again. I hadn't fully realized that beef wasn't grass fed anymore. I guess the way it is done currently is the cows are on pasture up until market age and then they are sold off of the ranch to a "finishing lot" where they are stuffed to their gills (sorry for the fish analogy) with grain. The problem with that is there is a mounting body of evidence that grains esp. corn and wheat (the ones primarily used in feed lots) are inflammatory foods for the body of a mammal. The logic follows that if mammal(cow) eats it and then it is consumed by another mammal (human) we end up being the recipient of inflammatory food. There is a lot more to it then just the above. You can google "grass feed beef" and come up with fascinating study after study covering highly entertaining reads about long chain fatty acids and the benefits to the human body if you have insomnia some night OR you can just keep reading this blog and learn all about it here along with me as this is a first and I am learning as I go.
I wish I had a big red velvet curtain to pull down and a big TA DA to go with it but consider yourself the first to know that I am officially in the GRASS FED COW RAISIN BUSINESS!
One thing this economy has taught, is that sometimes if you want a job you need to create it yourself. These little bull calves needed a job in the worst way! Something to justify their existence. A bovine purpose in life!
Here is what I did.
We had one grassy pasture that was empty. We turned the bulls into steers and put them out there. They had grass, hay, water and just a mere dusting of grain on the very coldest of days so they could survive. My reasoning was this...even is third world countries where conditions are dire there are still cows. You have seen them in National Geographic and so have I. Now I doubt those third world cows are getting fed high quality custom mixed dairy feed ration from the U.S.
In fact I'm almost sure they are not. I think they are surviving on foraging. Its not ideal but it is better than the alternative, right? Another thing... I grew up watching Bonanza and The Big Valley and remember them driving the cows down from the mountains in the fall where they had foraged all summer.
So forage we did.
Meanwhile I needed a place to start feeding them a high quality nutritive grass (instead of just pasture grass) if I was serious about trying to raise a high quality cow. Alas for the horses their wonderful home was the perfect place so I moved them and their hay ring to another field and we planted rye in that well fertilized horse pasture. every few days I would go measure the grass. It needed to be six inches high for foraging. Finally this week the day came!
The steers were rounded up and loaded for the trip from that far back pasture up to the front of the farm. They had no idea how life was about to change. From subsistence to abundance. Add in the fact that they had never seen a house or any other of the trappings of civilization and you can imagine the culture shock.
They hesitantly stepped out of the stock trailer in one bunch. They look sturdy but skinny, young but "tough" like little Ninja warriors or like the "Lost Boys" fresh off the island in Peter Pan.
I made a small pen with a water trough, hay, a protein lick and minerals. In researching this I learned that they cannot go from sparse conditions to lush grass all at once. My plan was to let them out for a couple of hours a day until they got acclimated.
When I first opened the gate on all the greenness they were a little hesitant. What is that???
They licked it instead of eating it...
Once they caught on they REALLY caught on! Didn't even mind eating in the rain.
Beautiful.
To everyone but the horses that is! Cast out of "their" old stomping grounds and replaced by short little varmints of a lesser god...their expressions were incredulous. They stared across the fence with disbelief.
Can you say "WHAT THE HECK?"
With everyone settling in all that remained was for Mr Blue to take the ride back to the farm in an empty cattle trailer.
One of his favorite things to do!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)