We've had a miserable spring so far, really only an extended winter, with snow (SNOW!!) in May.
I've been more than grumpy.
I did set up a Facebook page for Decibel, since I can post photos there, and it is easy to find if you just search for her name (Decibel) and remember that she lives on the prairie. See you there.
Send her a friend request.
Right now the page is rather blah, because everything here is. If we ever get sunshine things may improve.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Yes, we're still here
Okay, some people have expressed worry about the lack of posting in the blog of late. Never fear, the Mayan's didn't get us, and we are still connected to the internet.
So why the silence?
Well,
I use this blog mostly as a photo depository, so those who like, can see what is going on and what Decibel has been up to. That way I don't spam endless email inboxes. And if you don't want to know don't have to look. But I can't post any more pictures, or so it said. After a few hours of finding out very little, I gave up on the whole blog picture posting thing. And it just isn't as much fun without the pictures.
So what have you missed?
Not much, in truth. A few cute Decibel things, sure. I'll be lazy and just repost some emails I sent to Decibel's breeders. They claim to like the emails, and thus encourage me. It is their fault that I keep writing about the least little thing.
Then we got a bit of a health scare, seems that Decibel has crystals in her urine and needs to acidify her pee to dissolve them before they become stones. Not that Decibel is scared or even all that affected by it. She just peed a little more often than normal. We have that fixed, but now she is on special food that I don't like because it is basically corn and lard. That's for cows or maybe birds, but not for dogs, except Decibel likes it. Sure she does. It is really expensive too. I wouldn't mind that, if it were at least as good as the dog food we usually feed. But it isn't.
Well, hopefully it is just for a little while.
Oh, and the pigs have gone on their final journey. We will soon live high on the hog!
Okay, for the cute stuff:
email one:
So why the silence?
Well,
I use this blog mostly as a photo depository, so those who like, can see what is going on and what Decibel has been up to. That way I don't spam endless email inboxes. And if you don't want to know don't have to look. But I can't post any more pictures, or so it said. After a few hours of finding out very little, I gave up on the whole blog picture posting thing. And it just isn't as much fun without the pictures.
So what have you missed?
Not much, in truth. A few cute Decibel things, sure. I'll be lazy and just repost some emails I sent to Decibel's breeders. They claim to like the emails, and thus encourage me. It is their fault that I keep writing about the least little thing.
Then we got a bit of a health scare, seems that Decibel has crystals in her urine and needs to acidify her pee to dissolve them before they become stones. Not that Decibel is scared or even all that affected by it. She just peed a little more often than normal. We have that fixed, but now she is on special food that I don't like because it is basically corn and lard. That's for cows or maybe birds, but not for dogs, except Decibel likes it. Sure she does. It is really expensive too. I wouldn't mind that, if it were at least as good as the dog food we usually feed. But it isn't.
Well, hopefully it is just for a little while.
Oh, and the pigs have gone on their final journey. We will soon live high on the hog!
Okay, for the cute stuff:
email one:
Decibel has elevated mooching to an art form, and it is a darn good thing she loves to run and play, and burns off whatever extra goodies have come her way, because she is nearly irresistible.
When the cream has risen, I will skim it off, an activity that is - at least in my opinion - rather quiet and indistinct from the many other things I do in the kitchen, which do not rouse Decibel's interest. However, whenever I take out the milk canister, and open the drawer for the skimming ladle, well, there is the burning sensation of Decibel's big brown eyes, drilling little holes into me. I really don't have to turn around to know she is there. I do know that she wasn't there just a moment ago, when I thought that I might just quietly skim the cream. I thought she was sleeping soundly and all on her pillow.
Well, I was ever so wrong.
There she sits, even her floppy ear as upright as she can get it, BIG brown eyes, a little pathetic flutter around her lip, ("Please, mom, may I have some, just a little, oh, please?") and then, slowly, ever so delicately, her paw rises, and points longingly to the cream.
Well, I am only a dumb human, so of course I let her lick the cream off the ladle before I wash up. And wouldn't you know it, Decibel, who at any other time has the table manners of a hog, will ever so delicately lick the cream off, and make no noise at all. If I were to give her a tiny crumb of bread crust, she would crunch and chew it so loudly, EVERYONE else in the house would surely know that she got a goodie, and come running for theirs, but no, the cream, that's all hers. I don't know if she is really so smart and knows that if she is quiet she gets to lick off all the cream, but if the others show up, she will have to share, yet when it is a crumb, well, mom will get the other dogs some, and then all Decibel has to do is look real pitiful, and likely she will get another crumb, just so it is fair…
She is a daily joy, that one.
email two:
I have to share this morning's discussion between Harold and me with you:
Setting:
I am sitting in the hall struggling to get my heavy duty shoes on, ready to head out into the bleak pre-dawn cold to milk the cow. This is BC (before coffee), so simple tasks become laborious.
Harold is trying to get his coat and shoes on, but Decibel wants a hug, and what the girl wants, she knows how to get. She jumps up, envelops the guy in a Briard hug, and gives kissy-kisses until Harold yields and gives her her pets and pats and hugs and praises she needs.
"My, you have a lot of crunchy crinkly leaves in your coat, Decibel," Harold notes.
It's true, she does. She needs what I call a beauty treatment, but every time I think of the brush, she disappears. It's some kind of magic, that trick of hers.
"How do you get all this stuff in your coat?"
Then, in Decibel's voice, the answer is provided:
"I'm monster dog! I roll on the ground like this, rah-raw-raw and crush all the little crinkly crunchy villagers and their houses, row-row-row."
All the while Decibel really seems to commune with her dad.
The funny thing is, that's exactly what she does. Sometimes I look out the window, and there she is, rolling around with such delight, on her back, legs flaying up and out, I can almost hear the tiny villagers scream as they flee in horror. Of course the leaves and sticks and such that get embedded in Deci-monster's coat are signs of her triumph. Wouldn't want to shake those off, oh no!
After that I had a crappy udder to clean and wind chill to fight, but it was all a bit better because Decibel the village crushing monster dog was there.
You have no idea how much it means to me to be able to share this with a "receptive audience". PWBs (people without Briards) just don't understand.
email three:
it was time for paw-dicures all around. Decibel has been getting better about having her nails done, but I still need Harold to 'anchor' the girl. So I do all the other dogs first, they already know that resistance is futile, and let me get it over with quickly. Then we went looking for Decibel.
Where is that girl?
She was not in her usual spots, she was not outside, she was...
and here you are missing super cute pictures
... hiding in Ralph's crate, while Ralph was in it! When we looked right at her, she closed her eyes, as if that made her invisible. What a cute thing.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Announcement - it's about to be boring
By this I mean far more boring than this blog already is.
Apparently, somehow, I managed to fill up my allotment of images.
Who knew?
Since an image is worth a thousand words - and I like to talk, but not type - I used a lot of pictures.
Mostly about Decibel.
Then again, she's cute.
And while I can still post images of a certain tiny size - according to the instructions - I cannot figure out how to resize my images to fit the 'freebee' category.
I tried.
The automatic resizing feature that this program is supposed to use is not working.
So I went the manual route. First trial - the image turns out smaller than the 'thumbnail' that's next to the file name. I mean... useless.
So I went back to the album, but I cannot resize those images, either. I thought, well, maybe I can just go through and resize all the old images, since you've already seen those... but that's not easy.
So maybe I can go back and make all those large ones really small... and get enough space for one or two more images.
Tried that and failed... I resized a bunch of old stuff to small, and guess what? It didn't save me any space or free up any bytes or whatevers.
SO...
Tried that and failed... I resized a bunch of old stuff to small, and guess what? It didn't save me any space or free up any bytes or whatevers.
SO...
So here's my dilemma... I could pay for more space... but I am cheap.
I could start a new blog, or erase the old parts of this one, or keep trying to figure out how to resize the images (although so far that has not been very productive), or I could just go on without pictures.
I'm also lazy. So I might just not write for a while, or certainly I'll have only words on a page.
I'll let you know what happens.
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.
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:
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.
Monday, October 29, 2012
The least superstitious man in the world...
We were watching a show about superstition, and Harold laughed and said:
"Well, I have black cats, I don't like Lucky Charms, and wood knocks on me!
I am the least superstitious man in the world."
Indeed a big branch had fallen on his back when he was cleaning up the aftermath of a windstorm and cutting lumber.
I am still laughing about that one.
For those who don't know the "Most interesting man in the world" commercials that he was parodying, watch the Dos Equis Commercial here.
My favorite line is "...Sasquatch has a picture of him."
"Well, I have black cats, I don't like Lucky Charms, and wood knocks on me!
I am the least superstitious man in the world."
Indeed a big branch had fallen on his back when he was cleaning up the aftermath of a windstorm and cutting lumber.
I am still laughing about that one.
For those who don't know the "Most interesting man in the world" commercials that he was parodying, watch the Dos Equis Commercial here.
My favorite line is "...Sasquatch has a picture of him."
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Autumn
After trying to get back into the milking habit, cleaning the house, going to the dentist - ack - and just keeping up with everything, here are some pictures from the last nice days...
Happy hogs looking for a handout - apples, milk, we're not picky!
The dangers of walking around with a camera: Everyone wants to have a closer look.
Or, like Oscar below, say 'cheese'...
The dogs are busy with squirrels, pack rats, treed cats and the occasional bird.
It's Hunting Season!
We did get a few nice rides in, Molly was excellent,
Harold has become the pie baker, we have so many apples:
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Busy... Work...
October got busy right from the start. First there was the garbage - the free trash day at the landfill, to be precise - and that means that we haul 6 months worth of garbage to the dump. Sure we used to have garbage pickup, but they have gotten so expensive, and there tend to be so many holidays when they don't pick up, plus, let's face it, we are both cheapskates and why pay when you can get it for free? So I spend a day loading trash on a trailer, and Harold hauls it.
Afterward we went to help our friends with their horse sale, which happened this weekend.
Afterward we went to help our friends with their horse sale, which happened this weekend.
Most of the work was fun and easy: put straw down, put hay down, make sure the horses are in the right pen. Basically just follow orders. On sale day the job got even easier. I mostly had to hold on to horses. Be a post, in other words.
I like stuff I can excel at, by just standing there.
The foals were already started and were really well behaved. It was a long day, but fun. No we didn't buy a new horse, although I was tempted.
On Monday Ruby calved. I had put her on pasture, because I had sequestered her for days now with nothing happening. So when I took the dogs for a walk I saw that she was getting ready and got her back into the barn pronto - well as fast as a cow about to calve can move anyhow. Soon thereafter her water broke, and the dogs got locked up and I sat there with the betadine waiting.
Ruby is quick about calving, so it wasn't a long wait. She also doesn't mind me being there. I think she actually waited for me to come around before she got serious about giving birth.
The calf came head first, but a leg was folded back, so I was glad that I actually stayed put, and I got the leg slipped out, and the calf out in no time at all.
But sadly, the big bull calf isn't doing well. He never tried to sneeze out the gunk, or get up. He has no suckling reflex to speak of. His heart races but he can't keep warm. Ruby and I did our best to dry him up and I even covered him with a sweatshirt. I milked out some colostrum and tried to feed him, since it is usually what will "kick start" a calf - they taste some of that elixir and get real active, but not this time.
So Natasha came by in the evening, drenched the cow with some calcium stuff to prevent milk-fever, and showed me how to tube feed the bull calf, which is what I have been doing, but in spite of getting some good colostrum he is not getting any better.
Sadly, I think he will just fade away. I try to keep him fed and warm, and turn him, but he is not responding to much.
At least Ruby is doing well.
The dogs are happy, to have some extra colostrum on their kibble yummy!
I think Ruby knows too that something isn't right with the calf. She doesn't hang around like she usually would if there is a calf. She wants to go back out to graze with the steers. Today I got Oscar and Mayer back from pasture so at least their little herd is reunited.
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