The Wool Food Mama

Real ponies

Another busy week at Mis-Fit Island.  Brian, after 20 years in the automotive industry, gets to authentically add Horse Trading to his dossier.

After a little negotiating, he traded (part of) a truck for some welsh ponies. 

They've not even been here a day yet and already had dress-up and make-overs this morning.

They already figured out too, that if someone's standing at the gate, you'll likely get a treat.  lol. 

The cows don't even bother at the gate anymore....too many treats in the pasture.  Look, you can even sleep in the treats. 

*yawn* Lots of sleepy afternoons around this place.

Um, where are the cows?

Right?  haha.

I need to start knocking on wood, or something, because I keep jinxing myself and it's getting a little out of hand. 

Ok, so the day before I said "um, where are the cows?" I was all full of "what should I do?" about putting Macy and the babes with the yearlings.  How should I do this? What will happen? What could possibly happen? How bad could it go?  Ugh, it could be bad.

Better Call Craig. 

So I call Craig and tell him that Macy's fully adopted the babes, this I know for sure, and everyone's been touching noses through the gate.  I must have been blathering away, because he interjected with "I dunno, just put them together and see what happens."

Silence.

"um, ok."

He continued, "Farming doesn't have a book, Katie. Farming is figuring it out as you go. Deal with it when it happens."

Good advice. Again.

He's right. I don't have time to plan, I'm too busy, you know...farming. 

So, I opened the gate and guess what happened?

Nothing.

Macy just stood there, ears pegged on the pasture and nostrils fully flared.  Listening and smelling for danger coming off the pasture.

Baby brown danced around the gate. Can we go?  Can we go?  See, it's easy, just walk right here.  Ready? I am.  How about now?  Can we, can we....

20 minutes and still nothing, except a single glance back at me.

Ok. We can go.

And just like that, I had cows being cows.  The yearlings babysitting and playing reindeer games while Macy ate.

Perfect.

This is where I should have knocked on wood.

The next morning, bright and early, I started double checking and repairing the pasture fence.  It's in a horribly sad state, but the brush keeps most of it upright.   I completed the east line and half of the south line when I broke for lunch.

I saw everyone hanging near the culvert low line, all looked good. Lunch time.

Honest, it wasn't 30 minutes, and I was back at it....

Um, where are the cows?

I was by myself.  Great, that's just great.   I'm talking to myself and I can't find 3500 pounds of cow.

Panick started to creep up and I ripped off a text to Brian. I can't find our cows! 

Who's missing?

All of them.  All five!!!

I'll be right there.

Back to talking to myself and it's all shades of "oh my God, Katie, get a grip woman!"

I went to their last known location and sure enough, I broke too early for lunch. There, a nice big gaping hole under the low hanging trees. Ugh.  Already cursing black and white cow, because Macy would NEVER do such a thing, I also added scout and tenderfoot to my vest of patches and found a cow print in the field drive across the road. 

South! They are headed south!

I found a big huge cornfield and no cows.Blinking back tears I started screaming "c'moooooooon, c'moooooon"  Which sounds like "c'maaaaaahhhhhhhn."

I'd learned from Craig (and Nicki) that it's always easier to pull cows than it is to push cows. I'd once chuckled at Craig and his "c'maaaaaaahhhhhhhn" but found I used it too, to call the cows.  You can roll that AH for as long as your wind will allow.  It rolls and it carries and at that very moment, I was screaming it at the top of my lungs.

C'maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhn.

Then I saw them.  Several moving specks along the far tree line, a good 20 acres away....my cows! Oh thank you baby Jesus.  Thank you thank you thank you. NAUGHTY! C'maaaaaaahhhhn.

They were running now (Good cows!  Good cows!  C'maaaaahhhhhn.) and I figured I better get on the road because they'll be taking that field-drive corner on two wheels at this pace.

I always thought it'd be fun to move a herd to new grazing land using a gravel road.  But in my daydreams, I envisioned more people helping. 

Still, our herd was whole and it was awesome.  Walking down a gravel road with all of them, left to right, Big brown, Baby black, Baby brown, Macy and finally, Black-n-white.  All of them following me home.

Brian arrived just in time to help me get them through a gate.  Once we got home, they all scattered.  Macy in the tool shed, Black-n-White in the chicken coop, Big brown still babysitting and trying to push calves through the gate.

We spent the rest of the afternoon fixing the south line....

Black-n-white even tested our work...

Of course.  He always does. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

More Therapy...

Earlier this week, we re-homed pig-pig.

We all miss him, a lot. Especially Brian.  Those two had an unique bond.  They met late one night in the bathroom (I failed to mention to Brian that we had adopted a pig and he was living in a box in the shower) and well...oh what the heck....when you're both peeing on the floor, for whatever reasons, you're connected.

Our neighbor suggested that Pig-pig may actually be a desireable catch for someone on Craigslist.  Since he was a Tamworth, it put him in the heritage category and heritage anything is a good thing these days.

After 4-5 days without a single inquiry, I thought he was ours and I was kind of bummed.  We aren't pig breeders and I wasn't going to become a pig breeder just because of Pig-pig either.  I was steeling nerves to go the distance on the castration. 

ugh.  Who wants to eat their baseball buddy?  He'd become a pet. 

Then, a nibble.  After a whole bunch of horse trading, pig-pig  was traded for 10 bales of straw and a handful of dollars.  When he trotted after his new owner all the way to the truck, I probably could have gotten a few more bucks...but it was never about that.  I'm just happy pig-pig gets to knock up a nice little heritage gal for a good long time.

All of my therapy wasn't JUST about the farm.   I also got in some sweet family time too. Like trying out some pinterest ideas with my girls.

Madison really wanted to try dip-dyeing her hair.  This was a lot of fun, for both of us.

Spending some time with the extended family was good thereapy too.  Lisa and Dave hosting all of us for Brian's birthday and Easter dinner was SO nice.  We will all have to work a little harder to have these get-togethers more regularly.  Especially the kind when night falls and the kids are near or beyond sleepy-time.

Therapy.

 

Successes and Set-backs

Because, everything was going a little too well.  Like, getting Macy on grass.

For several hours every day, Macy heads out on grass all by herself.  A little quiet time all to herself. Success.

I'd love to see her on grass twice that amount of time every day, but Macy has moved beyond wet-nurse and taken on an adoptive roll to the two calves. She doesn't want to be apart that much.  She willingly leaves them in the morning, but passes on her afternoon break. 

Obviously, this role exceeded our projected goal.  Ten-fold.

On day 5, we got a little jammed up.

While baby black cow bounced around the barn like a rubberband, baby brown cow was deteriorating and just not doing well. Set-back.

His stools weren't watery but they were loose and he was decidedly under the weather.  After a quick consult with my girl Vicki, I pulled baby brown cow from Macy's side (Mace was ticked and she growled at me.  Who knew cows can rumble and growl?) and put him in the pen where they could still see each other, but I could make sure baby brown was eating. 

Gusty and I spent the evening, every two hours, pushing about 4-8 ounces of milk, elctrolytes and a fresh egg through the babe.  At 1 or 2 am, I called it a night and fell into bed.

The next morning, I found a calf back on his feet and we hit the reset button; cleaned the barn to the floors, a dusting of diatomaceous earth topped with knee deep bedding.  Macy milked and turned out on brand new grass before coming in for a reunion.

 Awww. What a relief.  Baby brown back on his feet, eating at free will.  Even having enough energy to mirror his new mama....this is how you eat hay.

This is how you make your nose super big in photos.

Bullet dodged.  Whew. Success.

 

Therapy

Last week, I'd quit.  This week, I'm back.   It's funny, when you cast it all out on the wind, with a willingness, maybe even an eagerness, to see where the chips fall...they seem to fall as they should.  

Surrender, cave, give-up, those words seem to have a defeated undertone.  Change the words to believe, trust, or hands-off and the tone changes.  The events change.  The outcome...the intervention...is, well, it's divine.

That said, let me introduce you to our Wet Nurse & Retirement Program;

I'll continue, just like last year,  to raise calves born at my friend's (mentor) raw milk dairy farm.  But, instead of feeding them the traditional powdered, icky formula, I'll be utilizing a wet-nurse. I'm buying an otherwise premium and proven dairy cow that happens to be struggling with an issue or two.  No deal breakers, just a little something that'sconsidered a big thing at a larger operation.  

At our farm, wet-nurses will have the chance for a little redemption and a place to hang their cowbell. These girls will be favorites.  Every dairyman (woman) has one or a few....favorite girls that he just doesn't want to send to the auction barn.  Now he/she won't have to.  They'll have a place at MY place.  I'll  take them off of suction and vacuum and turn them out with suckling calves.  

If all goes well, and if the girls arrive pregnant, they'll deliver their own calves here and I'll start building a herd.

So. 

Without further ado....

This is our girl, our first Wet Nurse. Macy.

Wait, let me back up the truck.  Last year I added two calves to the farm; black cow and brown cow. Here they are with pig-pig.  Anyway, last year they're were bundles of joy, this year, they're adolescents and carry all the baggage that you'd expect any pre-teen to have. 

I'd started a herd without a matriarch.  I suspected there would be risk and issues, but I had to get my feet wet somehow.  Two calves on bottle was plenty wet.  This spring's early arrival brought plenty of unrest with two boys...unsupervised.  

Boys, meet your education.

Oh wow, she's big...really big....much bigger than that 2-legged gal with blue boots. I wonder if she'll let us get away with anything?

Nope.

Macy's arrival immediately restored order with my calves.  They have their first "flight zone" and they even went old school with the manners...I'm a child to be seen, not heard.  No more crowding, pushing or showing off.  It's a pleasure again to walk the pasture with the boys. 

Now, getting Macy here!  That was a trip.  Come along, I promise a few good laughs and omg's.

We had a 1400 pound cow, two 100 pound calves, a truck, a mid-sized hatch-back, and a 50 mile separation from origin to destination.  Let the games begin.

Make sure Macy will let the calves nurse. Check.

For the record, Vicki  (my mentor) hooked up two calves. See brown calf hiding behind black calf?  Vicki's behind the camera in this shot, but she's the rockstar.

Next, transportation. Check.

I know what you're thinking right now.  We all were thinking it; Get lots of pictures, no one will believe it otherwise.

Squeeze a 1400 Guernsey into the truck. Check.

That's Vicki, ready to go...I wish I'd had the video running when she sent Macy up the chute, because it would have captured Vicki's confidence and Craig's thinking out loud.  Whilst craig was still kicking dirt piles trying to sort out how the trip up the chute would go, Vicki said " Go, go, go," and with both hands started pushing a three quarter ton cow.

Watch out, we're coming....

Wait, I think I should lay down some straw...oh hell....

Alright, she's in.

It wouldn't be a great show if there wasn't a peanut gallery. Check.

Even Aussie was giggling...and hiding under the truck.

Once Macy was in the truck, the gallery started singing.  moo. moo. moo. Which is better than boo.boo.boo.

There she is....

Tie her down, lock her down and hit the road.  It was reported that every car that passed the transport vehicle took pictures with their phones.  haha.  Macy could very well be the most photographed guernsey ever and on a facebook page near you.

Anyway, if that wasn't exciting enough, when we got to my farm, it just kept getting better.  Thank goodness for seasoned dairymen (and women) that know what the hell they're doing.  First, Macy was too big to turn around and she was having no part up backing out of the truck.

Try it again with her head held about the rack...

Just like that.

Did you see how hands-off all of that was?   Amazing.

I'm happy to report that Macy stepped right up beyond wet nurse and assumed an adoptive mother role for our two new calves.  Nice empty utter on Mace, sleepy calves, drunk on mama's milk and soft-spoken yearlings in the pasture.   

Therapy.

Time to slow it down.

Fried.  Now that's a word.  That could be an intended pun considering the egg harvests at the farm and the volume of wool eggs that rolled out this spring season. But, it's not nearly that romantic.  I'm just fried, so it's time to slow it all down.

Yesterday, Brian and I did little but sit and zone-out for most of the day.  Even watching TV was laborious. For the record, I took two naps and Brian cooked, which means he ordered take-out.  I love to tease him about "his cooking" being the equivalent of a drive through window.  But the reality is, he is an amazing cook but rarely ponies up to the stove.  Because of course he's fried too. 

I look all around and see these idyllic blogs and life stories and know that I've portrayed my blog in much the same way.  It's my happy place, darnit, I don't want the crap to creep in here.  Children have make-believe, I have my blog. So, I'm just as guilty as the next person....but I'm about to change that. 

Reality check...audit.  Minnesota Dept of Revenue variety.  18 months of hovering hell and I'm full up on the snail's pace of a government worker with benefits.

This is my dining room....

This has been my dining room for 18 months....

This is my dining room floor...

On Monday, we finally had our face-to-face for the audit and from our vantage, it seemed to go swimmingly and hence, the break-down yesterday.  I shed my battle armour and donned a new coat reminiscent of the viral video of a honey badger....I just don't give a sh*t.  Brian has color back in his face and spring never looked better.

There's been a lot of neglect whilst we forged through this and although we aren't done yet, the worst is behind us.  Knock on wood. So, with slates cleared, it's time to slow it all back down.  Waaaay back down. 

I was going to press through the burn and try to make a final batch of wool eggs.  That won't be happening.  Toy making for me is a love affair, not a burden, and I intend to continue sewing love and peace into every stitch. Just look at the inspiration I have waiting for a new season;

They're zoo cages, waiting for a fresh layer of beeswax and coconut oil.

I can't wait to fill them with giraffes, zebras and camels. 

I'm excited.

The garden needs tilling. Seeds need sorting. Projects need starting. The farm needs reclaiming. Chickens, Guineas and turks need ordering. Dairy cow and calves are arriving. Children need loving.  Brian needs needing and so do I. 

Slow.it.down.

Just typing the words makes the tension fade. Fresh face. Fresh season.  I'm ready...to slow it down.

 

 

 

 

Summer arrived early this year

It was 80 degrees today. Note that it's St. Patrick's day in Minnesota.  March....80 degrees. crazy.

Crazy, yet wonderful.  There's no complaining here. 

We've been out trying to enjoy as much of it as possible too.  Last weekend, Gusty found "treasure" out behind the barn.

It looks like she's wearing a sad face, not so.  Contemplation about the reasons for the demise of the creature is probably a more accurate description. 

Anyway, we took home the skull, set it in a cup on the counter, gagged up a lung when a worm came out of the brain cavity and ultimately decided a zip lock bag would probably be a good idea. 

Pig-pig is getting bigger right before my eyes.

He really is a trip.  Last week, I'm embarassed to report that we "misplaced" pig-pig for a little bit. 

When we're in the yard, we let him run the yard.  He doesn't wander and I figured the running is good for him. Besides, it keeps the chickens on their toes.  Anyway, I headed to the barn and told Dane and Gusty to keep an eye on the pig.  Evidentally, they didn't hear me or misunderstood. 

Either way, 20 minutes later after a quick go of "who's watching the baby" and a full walking tour of all the buildings and the bush, we found pig=pig...

Yep, that's him, playing in the paddock with the big cows.  Brown cow thought he was kinda neat and must have played with him the whole time.  Black cow, on the other hand, found him incredibly annoying and I'm pretty sure I heard him say "hey kid, your mom's calling" right before he gave him a loft and toss about 3 or 4 feet.

Eep.  

I suppose I should have charged in and scooped up squeeler instead of snapping photos.  I thought about it, but frankly, I wasn't about to get squished for a 40.00 piglet.  Black cow was aggitated, teetering on pissed (it was interupting dinner, after all) and had already done several bucking bronco kicks that prompted me to tell the children to brace themselves....this could end badly.

All's well and no one was injured (thank goodness).  The little toss was heard, loud and clear;  pig-pig made a straight line for me and the open barn door.  Time for bed. G'night everyone.

The week wouldn't be complete without an egg hunt.  Black girl is still trying out for the Easter bunny. I found her THIRD hidden nest this week. 

I can't say that I blame her, they are beautiful, I'd probably hide them too.

 

wild love

The last two days, whilst driving my normal route to the farm, I've had the honor of watching the most amazing love story unfold.

Ok, maybe it's just a sex story.  But it's still amazing. 

It would seem that the wild turkeys are selecting their partners for spring and the displays for harem/flock-building and mating has been just breath taking.

It would seem that all of the smaller flocks came together for a two-day  strut-about to decide new flocks. At least 50 mature birds, doing their best walk-the-talk to attract new, or old, mates.

There wasn't any noticeable fighting going on, just a whole lot of fanning and thumping and I believe, the hens do the selecting rather than the tom's doing the deciding.  But I'm not sure. 

Fascinating. 

Looking forward to seeing the new poults in about 28 days.

 

*click on photos to see larger images.

Farm planning and a huge dose of venting.

Really, if you stumble on this, feel free to step over my little rant.  I'll understand. I can barely stand myself today.....if you do want to stick it out, scroll down to the photos and start there.  Far more fun than the introductory trainwreck.

What an exasperating day.  Well, to be fair, today was relatively benign, it's just a whole bunch of tempered frustration boiled over today and exploded all over my quiet little, moderately drama-free, life.

In the scope of world issues, I'm sure no one particularly cares that I have a squatting renter.  But to me, it's huge and I'm incredibly upset about it and have to purge this negative energy.  Today, I found myself locked  out of my own farm (or rather access to the blown fuse in the basement) and was elevated to a brand new level of pissed-off. 

I suppose I should embrace the unplanned electrical outage as a drill or something positive, like a little step back in time.  Yeah. That wasn't going to happen.  I have things to do, like bills to pay to, you know, keep the lights on. 

Sigh. 

I felt poked. 

So I poked back and I'm sure my squatter hung up the phone convinced that I need anger management classes.  Maybe I do. Today, I'm ok with that label.  What I'm never ok with is someone else calling the shots on my life, my gig or my land.  ever.

That said, my productive afternoon was shot to hell and I never did get to that fuse box and I wound up doing the unthinkable...I took to hiding in bed with a new magazine and re-runs of The Big Bang Theory. 

I don't know if hiding under the covers really helped. I'm more inclined to move soil and break a real sweat to work through this level of frustration.  Nonetheless, I was willing to try, I just didn't have it in me to do anything else and I felt genuinely defeated.

It's been several hours of sulking now and I suppose we could even say my damn mooching squatter won. He got the best of me today. 

So, I reach for my laptop, edit a few photos, find my happy place on the net and daydream about the possibilities my farmstead holds, once it's all ours again.

It's always smart to start at the barn.

She needs some work and may be small, compared to others in the area, but she is the heart of the entire place.  This photo is the back side and gets little sunlight except at sunset. Yet, this area is teaming with tree and grape vine growth.  A natural canopy that the cows picked completely clean (from underneath) last summer. 

I bet they loved the coolness the leaves and stone provided during the dog days of July and August.  I loved the wild grade syrup that I was able to put up from the clusters that hung too high for grazing.

The vines are mature and worth wrangling.  I'm undecided how to fashion it, but I think a trellis of some sort is in needed to reign it all in.  I'll cut back some of the trees too, before they get too big and start to put pressure on the barn walls.

I wish this tree was healthier. 

It's completely falling apart and I suspect it may have been the victim of lightning at some time in its lengthy history.

This photo kind of shows just how dire its state is with that tangling trunk over a story up. 

Right there on the left at the tippy top of the tree, that large section there, it isn't even attached to the tree. At all. I'll troubleshoot pulling it down before it falls down.  But still, the tree completely exceeds my abilities and a retirement plan will eventually have to be worked out. 

These two photos are where I'd like to put  the pigs this spring. 

There's shade and sunlight, room to run, jump, bathe and rotate.

While walking the farthest west line, I realized this seemingly open space is actually a new nursery for young saplings.  So instead of giving the pigs free access to all of it, fencing off just 30-40 feet will provide a foot-hold for future timber.  A stand that will one day provide shade from the late summer sun and a winter break from the north wind. 

This was one of the first spaces that reenforced the notion that when in doubt, it's best to leave it alone.  A sort of  "measure twice, cut once" philosophy, if you will. 

More rambling, there are all of the wild blackberries....

And more...

...and still more....

....and more blackberries....

I think you get the idea.  Unfortunately, they've been so neglected and over grown that they're barely productive anymore.  I think I'll cut back two of the four spaces, then see how the results work out over the next year or so to see if I should do the same with the other two briars.

Ok....

I think my feet are back on the ground.  I'll give it a break for now. 

 

 

 

grow

grow

[groh]  verb, grew, grown, grow·ing.

verb (used without object)

1. to increase by natural development, as any living organism or part by assimilation of nutriment; increase in size or substance.

I've decided on "grow" for my word this year.

 

For the last several years, I've chosen a word, instead of a resolution, to represent the New Year.  Something that fits into every facet of my life.  Something to focus on and help bring about a desired change.

Happiness was the last word I chose.  I have to say, that word choice was a complete success.    Despite the heavy losses in 2011, happiness really worked it's way into me.

But it wasn't always like that.  One year, I chose "simplify".  Good lord, what a disaster.   I'm serioiusly chuckling at myself.  It's a lot like praying for patience and God showing you just how much patience you have.  Yeah. haha.  Needless to say, simplifying takes a crap-ton of work.

This year, I'm settling on grow. 

Grow.

Nice simple ring, don't you think?

 

Me too.

There's so much that I want to grow and there's so much in my life that needs to grow.

I love growing food.  I think that's pretty obvious.  My crafty blog has definitely taken on a farmy feel, and that's likely to continue.  Actually, I wish I'd blogged more about my farming endeavors last year.  I must have been doing something right though, because I'd fall into bed exhausted and blogging seemed impossible.  But maybe this year, I'll have room for blogging whilst I grow the farm with a permaculture foundation...

I'm so geeked about this book,  I can hardly stand it.  grow. grow. grow. Permaculture is an older word in my vocabulary, but I finally have time to make it fit.  Or rather, I'm going to make time to apply it to the farm.  I'm hopeful that it will slow me down (much like the animals did last year) so that I can make careful and conscientious choices at the farm.

Then, of course, there's my little crafting business.  Boy, is that growing.  I'm so blessed.  I really want to keep that growing and today I broke my own record and cranked (cut) out 14 ponies....

And finally, but certainly not the least  of importance, is my personal growth.   It's time to focus on this whole student of life thing. (Student was actually my back-up word.) Woman, wife, mother....they could all use some growth.

 

The realization last summer and fall that I'm mearly a student in this life will make the focus on growth particularly poignant for me this year.

So...

Farewell 2011. 

Ahhh 2012, I've been expecting you. C'mon in...I'll brew.