Chores

With winter approaching, and the weather occasionally remembering this fact (again, who in the world is really against global warming?) chores are becoming more of ...a chore.

I was contemplating this fact just this morning, in the relative peace and calm that has returned now that our social commitments have been fulfilled and I don't have another week of cooking and cleaning (I really mind the cleaning) ahead of me.  For a moment there I was relieved, and then I woke up cold in the barn facing a manure coated udder.

Reality check with a vengeance.

I don't know why there are still people who are surprised to hear that a cow needs milking every twelve (12) hours, or that feeding and watering is a twice a day job.  I can only suppose they don't have any experience with animals, whether pets or working critters, for even fish or caged things like gerbils need daily attention.
With livestock it is at least a twice daily job.  Now, admittedly, in the summer this is reduced to a minimum, especially when the cow is dry for her two months.  For a quick review of 'cow facts' you can go here.

So in the summer chores are lackadaisical, fun, unstructured.  I can get everything done by myself in about 30 minutes each time.

An ideal summer's day has chores that are a breeze:

Sure, I still get up in the morning and take the dogs for a walk.  I still start in the red barn across from the house, because I have to feed the cats.  Then I check on whatever critters are housed in the barn (pigs and or cattle) and feed the first and water both.  The cattle don't need to be fed, since they are on pasture.  When they are on pasture, they don't actually need to be watered at the barn either, come to think of it, but we still keep water in the tank, so the pigs don't bust their way out.  The stocktank is situated in the fence line, so we can have cattle in either paddock.
After that I check to see where donkey is.
Donkey has very few grinding teeth left, and can't graze sufficiently.  If he hangs out near the barn or the gate, I will go up and put him in an enclosure, fix him his feed soaked with a little water and lubed up with some corn oil, along with a bucket of fresh water and let him eat.  This can't be hurried, since he will then bolt his feed and get choked.
So I leave him and go back to the house, where the dogs need their water and food.  This is actually Harold's chore, which leaves me to tangle with the coffee machine.  Then I drink my morning elixir on the patio and throw a handful of pellets to the goldfish in the backyard.
The last chore of the morning is to take the dogs for a walk and let donkey out, returning him to wherever the horses are grazing.

This then is the ideal summer morning.

Naturally it isn't always that idyllic, sometimes the horses want to have grain (but don't need it) other times the big water tank by the windmill has to be filled (can't forget to shut off the pump), or Maggie has to be hunted down and brought back from her hunting expedition, that sort of thing.

In the evening, the chores require a walk up to the chicken coop, to give the chickens their kitchen scraps and feed and water, and to collect the eggs.  Donkey gets fed again, if he is around.  If not, I don't worry.  All the water is checked, and then it is time to feed the dogs.

Voila - all done.

In the winter (and I include fall and spring into that season, since I wear gloves when the temperature dips below 50°F [or 10°C] and I wear gloves in winter - duh) chores take on a different dimension.

First - I have to dress for the expedition.
This sounds trivial, but the sun is likely not even up yet, and figuring out the mystery of socks in the dark when my eyes are still sleep encrusted and blurry, because my glasses are downstairs on the kitchen counter, well, that is nowhere's near as easy as one might think.
Second - I have to milk.
When it is cold out the bucket containing the wipes, bag balm, and dip cups is in the entry hall of the house.  I don't want the dip to freeze (I don't know what temperatures are required for that, but I am sure that it does get THAT cold here), and besides, the cow prefers something above ice cold on her teats first thing in the morning.
But before I can take the bucket I have to finish dressing, shoes, coat, earmuff, gloves.
By this time one or the other Briard will be scratching on the door.  Decibel wants me to hurry up, Ralph has decided that he is really not the outdoors type in spite of his Canadian upbringing and wants to come back in.
Then I have to trek across the yard to the barn.  I don't know why this is further than in the summer, but it is, especially when the wind comes from the east.
Once there, it is time to set up.  The bucket with the dips and wipes has to be placed on the stairs, milk buckets have to be readied, and I have to get the 5 gallon bucket full of feed there for the cow.  Then back to the feed room for the cat food.
Once the cow is in the stanchion and teats are cleaned and dipped, I hustle out to feed the steers.  Insistent and persistent training has finally made an impact on them, and for the most part they wait outside the barn by their tubs.  Not always.  Sometimes they run me over, head butt me, or try to push by me and steal feed from Ruby.
Other times Ruby's udder is coated in cow manure.  Usually when it is really too cold to turn the hose on her, something I don't really like doing, since milking a dripping cow is no fun, nor is squatting in puddles, but milking a crappy cow is impossible.  So there goes my morning mood.
Then I have to get rid of the coat, gloves and glasses (which invariably get stuck in the ear muffs), so I can push my sleeves up to my elbows to milk.  I milk about a half to a full gallon, add feed, milk some more, add feed, and so on until done.
In the end I milk some for the dogs, if they were good, and didn't chase cats or tried to come downstairs or growled at each other.  Then the milk gets divided up.  Usually some milk gets fed to the calf - but sadly this time we don't have that chore.
Meanwhile the cow barn is being cleaned out, stock tank filled, and milk for the pigs dumped in trough, usually all by Harold.  The pig barn needs to be cleaned, and fresh straw spread.  When he's away that all falls to me and has to be done sequentially, not in parallel, and it doubles my time.
Once Ruby is milked and dipped, she is ready to be returned to the steers, which is easy as long as someone brings her remaining grain.  Otherwise she wants to go back to finish it.  I can't let her stay and eat at her leisure, since I a.) have more chores to do and b.) she will likely pee or poop any moment now, and that makes cleanup a real bear.  So hustle it is.
Now then, the milking done and the milk has been dealt with, the pig feeder is filled, the buckets and bowls are collected, and then all is washed out and hosed down.  I prefer to fill the pig feeder before I hose down the milking area, so I don't have to run up and down the stairs with wet shoes.  On the other hand, by now I am getting cold, and so after the washing up, I get to re-dress.  Then it is time to sweep out the barn, unless the wind is wrong, which makes it futile.  Harold then returns the dip bucket to the house, and prepares the dogs' feed and water.
I trek out to the horse barn to isolate donkey and the horses, and feed each according to their needs.  Usually Maggie is the only one to accompany me.  Then I hike back and if I am lucky I come into a warm house with the wood stove going and the dogs already eating.  Again, if I am by myself, I have those chores added.
After coffee I do the whole expedition over again to release donkey.  In the evening it's the same, except for a stop at the chicken coop (can't forget the chicken bucket) to see to their feed, water and to collect the eggs.

All this was brought to mind last night, when I had just started to really fill the buckets.  The milking was going well.  Ruby was standing fairly still.  She wasn't thinking of peeing or pooping on me.  I was just about to count my blessings when...

...a thundering herd of rhinos stampeded through the hayloft.  At least that is what it sounded like.  Not just once, no -  back and forth, each pass with additional feet added to the noise.

Ruby shut down.
Her milk letdown was clamped off.  She does not like this sort of stress.  The barn may collapse ..the sky was falling...
The remaining half gallon was a struggle to get and with that I was about a quart or so shy of the normal milk.

"No milk for you!"  The milk Nazi hollered at the dogs.

This was only in part punitive.  I simply couldn't get more milk out, no matter what.
Stupid dogs chasing stupid cats.  Still, I was stuck with the cow until the last drop.  Even wild rhinos can't drag me away.

Finally Harold became aware of the commotion.  He checked it out.

"Decibel caught a bird - a hawk!"

Well, that sort of explained things.  The dogs do know better than to cause such a ruckus when I am milking.
Then Harold yelled that he caught the hawk.  Should he let it go?
Well, what else?  I mean, I am fairly sure that you cannot just keep a hawk and take up falconry as a hobby or whatever.  And the chickens won't want to share their coop with a hawk.
But of course I wanted to see what had set me back.

It was a kestrel, a sparrow hawk:

By the way, it was not at all as composed as in the picture.  Harold had caught it because a cat cornered it under a pallet that was leaning against the wall.  The kestrel was trying hard to get away.  Claws extended, head a-swivel, he was trying to peck or tear at Harold.
Harold let him go outside, threw him high and it took off right away, relatively unruffled and hopefully a little wiser.

A pretty sight, even if it did cost me a quart of milk.

Then we had to get the feathers off Decibel's chin.