I can't believe it - it's been three weeks since I last sat down to write this blog. Where does the time go, anyway?
It has been a very mild fall. We have still to get any significant snowfall; there's just a couple of light dustings from time to time. On the one hand, this makes for less work for Glen as the cattle can still graze out on the oat stubble and he has less bales to haul out and feed. On the other hand, there is no snow to provide them with water and he has a daily job of going out and using an axe to chop through the ice on the dugouts so they can drink. I'll be glad when the snow is there - I worry about him slipping on the wet ice and chopping his own leg, or that the cattle will all go out on the ice together and break through and drown. It seems like you hear at least one of those stories every fall. We have electric waterers for the cattle in the corrals, but the main adult herd stays out on the land year round with Glen putting up wind break enclosures for the winter months.
I think we are finally done the sorting and weaning work of the fall. Our own herd was done a week or so ago, but we also board another guy's herd here over the winter and they have only just been brought back here this week and had to have all the other fall shots and treatments first. This morning we pulled on all our heavy winter clothes and went out to get the last of them sorted.
Glen had already marked the older cows which were going to be shipped so we had to get them off in one pen, the calves off in another one, and the cows we were keeping back into an adjoining pasture. He believes that the calves aren't so stressed if they can still see their mothers for the first week, so they are kept in full view of each other - but with a good solid fence in between. They'll bawl for each other for three or four days, but they both have lots to eat and drink so they get over it. There was one cow/calf pair in that herd where the calf was too young to wean, and we had a very late set of twins in our herd so they will get special treatment all winter, being in the feeder pens and getting grain. Winter can be pretty hard on a nursing mother.
For the first time in years Glen went out deer hunting this fall. Jenn talked him into it because she wanted to try it. They both tagged out and are looking forward to making jerky of the whole works - which really isn't much when you see how little meat there is on a white tailed deer. It would be something else if they had been drawn for a moose license - those things are monsterous and there are a lot of them around. I told Jenn if she got one of those, she was on her own for storage! My deepfreezes are already full!
The dogs are in doggie heaven at the moment with the deer leg bones to chew on. During the winter they get to sleep in the porch overnight but Sam wouldn't come in the first night he had a bone to guard. He knew that if he left it outside that the coyotes would have it long gone by morning, and he also knew I wasn't letting him bring it in the house - so he camped out on the deck that night - the prize between his paws!
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Woke up to a world of white this morning - not snow, but frost covering everything. After a few weeks of "after harvest" browns it is a very refreshing and welcome change. Glen is working on leases at least an hour away these days so his alarm clock goes off at the ungodly hour of 4:30, and being a spectacularly poor specimen of wifehood, I don't even acknowledge that I'm alive, let alone that I know he's getting up to face the dark world alone. I know, there'll be a special place in heaven for me when I get there - just outside the gates - but the middle of the night is for sleeping in my books. I didn't hear him do his "winter is really here" groan this morning, so frost must be okay. You don't have to clear it off the roads or dig bales out of it, and it doesn't blow up into banks you can get stuck in.
Since I have been up (at about 7:30, when the sky was at least begining to lighten up) I have started about five different jobs and completed not a single one. The kitchen table is strewn with papers that I have sorted through to find the bills that need paying and things that need filing. That led to putting away catalogues which, in turn, progressed into paging through them to get ideas for Christmas gifts. That led to starting a shopping list for things I need to pick up in the city when I go into Brandon for a medical appointment on Wednesday. Not one of these things is done and in the meanwhile I've called Sandy in Winnipeg just to catch up on her news and Mitchell has dropped in to raid the deepfreeze for some meat. That's something we do for all the kids - they all help with the cattle chores and can have what beef they need anytime they want. Mick stayed for a bit of a visit and a piece of raisin pie - his favorite. Yesterday I did actually get something done - a whole batch of pies and a big pot of stew.
Glen says that the feeders are finally scheduled for market next Monday. They should have gone six weeks ago but with him gone working all the time it's been hard for him to make the arrangements. I have been on his case this fall to cut back on some of this cattle work. What will happen next is that, once last year's feeders are gone, we will wean this year's calves and start all over again. We segregate them and start feeding them a grain diet. That means pails and pails of oats both morning and night, all winter long. Before and after a very long day's work and always in the dark. It's crazy that we continue to do this when we make a decent living at our jobs! Sometimes it almost sounds like I'm getting through to him, and then we end up buying another bull to refresh the genetics going into the herd!
He did tell me the other night that he thinks maybe he'll just fill the creep feeder (a big feeder bin on wheels) with oats and just park it in their pen. That will lighten the work load somewhat. There will still be bales to feed both the cows and the feeders and bedding to put out for them both, but the day to day drudgery will be lessened at least. He teases me that I'll be losing my exercise regimn, and he's right about that - I may be sorry we didn't carry pails all winter long when spring comes around!
I have managed to get the yard cleaned up and ready for winter. There is still most of a bale play house that he put in the middle of the yard for the grandchildren when they were here, but he is slowly carrying the straw off to put bedding into the corrals. It needs to be out of the way before the big snow hits us - they stand exactly where he has to push the snow out of the way to clear a path out of the yard. It won't always be frost like this morning - he had better get that done. And so must I get something done around here ... better get back to that kitchen table!
Since I have been up (at about 7:30, when the sky was at least begining to lighten up) I have started about five different jobs and completed not a single one. The kitchen table is strewn with papers that I have sorted through to find the bills that need paying and things that need filing. That led to putting away catalogues which, in turn, progressed into paging through them to get ideas for Christmas gifts. That led to starting a shopping list for things I need to pick up in the city when I go into Brandon for a medical appointment on Wednesday. Not one of these things is done and in the meanwhile I've called Sandy in Winnipeg just to catch up on her news and Mitchell has dropped in to raid the deepfreeze for some meat. That's something we do for all the kids - they all help with the cattle chores and can have what beef they need anytime they want. Mick stayed for a bit of a visit and a piece of raisin pie - his favorite. Yesterday I did actually get something done - a whole batch of pies and a big pot of stew.
Glen says that the feeders are finally scheduled for market next Monday. They should have gone six weeks ago but with him gone working all the time it's been hard for him to make the arrangements. I have been on his case this fall to cut back on some of this cattle work. What will happen next is that, once last year's feeders are gone, we will wean this year's calves and start all over again. We segregate them and start feeding them a grain diet. That means pails and pails of oats both morning and night, all winter long. Before and after a very long day's work and always in the dark. It's crazy that we continue to do this when we make a decent living at our jobs! Sometimes it almost sounds like I'm getting through to him, and then we end up buying another bull to refresh the genetics going into the herd!
He did tell me the other night that he thinks maybe he'll just fill the creep feeder (a big feeder bin on wheels) with oats and just park it in their pen. That will lighten the work load somewhat. There will still be bales to feed both the cows and the feeders and bedding to put out for them both, but the day to day drudgery will be lessened at least. He teases me that I'll be losing my exercise regimn, and he's right about that - I may be sorry we didn't carry pails all winter long when spring comes around!
I have managed to get the yard cleaned up and ready for winter. There is still most of a bale play house that he put in the middle of the yard for the grandchildren when they were here, but he is slowly carrying the straw off to put bedding into the corrals. It needs to be out of the way before the big snow hits us - they stand exactly where he has to push the snow out of the way to clear a path out of the yard. It won't always be frost like this morning - he had better get that done. And so must I get something done around here ... better get back to that kitchen table!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
WORKING CATTLE
THE GREAT FALL ROUNDUP - 2008
By Jocelyn Hainsworth
And so the time came, once again, to round up all the farmer’s expensive pets and give them the full benefits of our farm’s health care plan. It’s a great deal for them, really; after enjoying free food , water, and lodging all year, and having paid no premiums whatsoever, they get treated for whatever ails them too. The calves all get inoculations - free. The young males have some minor surgery - free. And, the whole works of them are sprinkled with some blue stuff that keeps them lice free all winter - again, completely free of charge.
One would think that they would be happy to participate in this clinic held especially for them, but to tell you the truth, they didn’t seem to be one bit more willing than the human crew who were prodded out of a nice warm house and into the hurricane that was last Saturday. Nobody was happy to be there.
It is comforting to see that every year we seem to improve this operation a little bit. When I think back to the first roundup, I can hardly believe that we’re still married. Back in the day we weren’t exactly set up with enough sorting pens, and not a one of us had learned to read the Farmer’s mind to know what we were going to be instructed to do next. These days we have six or seven pens to funnel animals around in and we’re much better at ... well, we’re much better at staying calm in the face of very loud instructions.
Once the squeeze chute was set up, it was time to bring the herd in from pasture. That’s the improvement that we added this year. It doesn’t take the whole family and four trucks to bring them in. The Farmer merely hopped on his new quad and steered them towards the yard. They learned over the summer that this bright red new toy always seems to lead them to more and better food so the main problem is keeping out of the way of a stampede. They were almost all in when one of them decided that she smelled a rat and took off for the high country. The farmer put an extra mile on his machine trying to head her off at the pass, but in the end she was left to run free. It will serve her right when she’s the only one with lice this winter. Or, she could still find herself in a cull pen for not doing what the Farmer wanted her to - that happens sometimes. Thank goodness he doesn’t have a cull pen for wives.
At first it seemed as if all those wind warnings had been greatly exaggerated, but no, along about noon we found ourselves in gale force winds. Upset animals. Dirt blowing in our eyes. Papers flapping in the wind. Barcode stickers for the radio frequency tags blowing away before we could stick them down. And, every seventh animal insisting on getting into the chute backwards. Which made for upset human beings. One, especially.
Dinner didn’t happen until we were done the calves at 3:00, and somehow, although I can’t imagine how, it was even windier when we went back out to run the adults through. On the one hand, it provided the push necessary to return to the barnyard, but standing still once we got there was a bit of a problem.
By this time we had been offered a reward - the Farmer would take us to town and cook us steaks at the local watering hole when we were done. When someone else is going to cook me supper I don’t ask questions - we got the job done!
If you happened to be in the bar on Saturday night, you might have noticed us - we were the exhausted, wind burnt crew fighting sleep even as the guy at the grill flipped the steaks. Then again, if you were watching the Riders blow Edmonton out of the water, you missed us. We were probably home and in bed before they were out of their game jerseys. You see, we still weren’t done yet - first thing Sunday morning we were back at it, tagging the feeders for their trip to market. Yep! That’s what we’re doing all this for - apparently, these pets turn into money when you ship them. It’s not just for the fun of it all!
By Jocelyn Hainsworth
And so the time came, once again, to round up all the farmer’s expensive pets and give them the full benefits of our farm’s health care plan. It’s a great deal for them, really; after enjoying free food , water, and lodging all year, and having paid no premiums whatsoever, they get treated for whatever ails them too. The calves all get inoculations - free. The young males have some minor surgery - free. And, the whole works of them are sprinkled with some blue stuff that keeps them lice free all winter - again, completely free of charge.
One would think that they would be happy to participate in this clinic held especially for them, but to tell you the truth, they didn’t seem to be one bit more willing than the human crew who were prodded out of a nice warm house and into the hurricane that was last Saturday. Nobody was happy to be there.
It is comforting to see that every year we seem to improve this operation a little bit. When I think back to the first roundup, I can hardly believe that we’re still married. Back in the day we weren’t exactly set up with enough sorting pens, and not a one of us had learned to read the Farmer’s mind to know what we were going to be instructed to do next. These days we have six or seven pens to funnel animals around in and we’re much better at ... well, we’re much better at staying calm in the face of very loud instructions.
Once the squeeze chute was set up, it was time to bring the herd in from pasture. That’s the improvement that we added this year. It doesn’t take the whole family and four trucks to bring them in. The Farmer merely hopped on his new quad and steered them towards the yard. They learned over the summer that this bright red new toy always seems to lead them to more and better food so the main problem is keeping out of the way of a stampede. They were almost all in when one of them decided that she smelled a rat and took off for the high country. The farmer put an extra mile on his machine trying to head her off at the pass, but in the end she was left to run free. It will serve her right when she’s the only one with lice this winter. Or, she could still find herself in a cull pen for not doing what the Farmer wanted her to - that happens sometimes. Thank goodness he doesn’t have a cull pen for wives.
At first it seemed as if all those wind warnings had been greatly exaggerated, but no, along about noon we found ourselves in gale force winds. Upset animals. Dirt blowing in our eyes. Papers flapping in the wind. Barcode stickers for the radio frequency tags blowing away before we could stick them down. And, every seventh animal insisting on getting into the chute backwards. Which made for upset human beings. One, especially.
Dinner didn’t happen until we were done the calves at 3:00, and somehow, although I can’t imagine how, it was even windier when we went back out to run the adults through. On the one hand, it provided the push necessary to return to the barnyard, but standing still once we got there was a bit of a problem.
By this time we had been offered a reward - the Farmer would take us to town and cook us steaks at the local watering hole when we were done. When someone else is going to cook me supper I don’t ask questions - we got the job done!
If you happened to be in the bar on Saturday night, you might have noticed us - we were the exhausted, wind burnt crew fighting sleep even as the guy at the grill flipped the steaks. Then again, if you were watching the Riders blow Edmonton out of the water, you missed us. We were probably home and in bed before they were out of their game jerseys. You see, we still weren’t done yet - first thing Sunday morning we were back at it, tagging the feeders for their trip to market. Yep! That’s what we’re doing all this for - apparently, these pets turn into money when you ship them. It’s not just for the fun of it all!
Saturday, October 18, 2008
STORMS OF ONE KIND OR ANOTHER
Another Saturday morning and so much to do! Not like last week end though. Living at the very bottom of Saskatchewan like we do, we were dead center in the winter storm warnings last week. I went to bed on the Friday night mentally listing everything I had to get done before the world turned wet and white - the list was pretty long.
Glen had an oil lease that was supposed to be ready for a rig immediately so he was gone extra early; as it was a long weekend there were a lot of the crew who had other plans and couldn't be there. I was up before the sun came up (which really is nothing to brag about anymore - the days are getting shorter all the time) and managed to get a lot of the in-house chores done before I went out to tackle the garden.
There was still a half row of carrots to dig - not bad you say? Well, the original row was over thirty feet long so you do the math. I tried and failed to get the garden tiller started so I had to haul it manually over to the quonset to put it away. The dogs loved it when I lifted the tarps we had used for covering the tomatoes because it gave them mice to chase for a few minutes. Once I was sure that all the wildlife had left the premesis I folded them up and put them away too.
Next there were dahlia tubers to dig and garden tools to put away. Working with the cold mud, my poor fingers were nearly frozen by this time so I snapped the tops off all the carrots, put them in a big plastic tub and hauled that back up to the house. I couldn't believe it when I looked at my watch and saw it wasn't even 10:00 yet! Sandy had hinted that it sure would be nice if there was a pot of home made soup and fresh-from-the-oven buns ready when she arrived home. I had started the soup before I left the house and I still had time for the buns. It's amazing what you can get done with a storm bearing down on you!
Glen must have called me six times during the day, wanting up dates on the weather forecast. It never wavered - it was still headed our way. But it took longer to get here than they had predicted; there was nothing until about 6:00 on Sunday morning. It really came down for an hour or so, but once the sun was up it switched to rain here. The family plans for Thanksgiving supper was to have the meal at my niece's in Macoun, down near Estevan, and much as it would have been lovely to be there, the thought of having to drive in that mess (it was an all snow event there), especially the trip home, helped us decide to just have our own quiet little supper here at the farm.
It was very quiet - Mitchell had gone to Brandon to spend the weekend with his friends, Wayne and Jacqui were back in Australia, and Jesse lives much closer to Macoun than she does to here so she went to the family supper. It was Sandy, Glen and I, a roast chicken and a pumpkin pie.
To make up for the lack of company on Sunday, though, Monday ended up being quite the opposite. Sandy and I had decided to make a pizza for supper but we needed mozzerella cheese so we called friends who lived in town to come on out for supper - and bring some cheese! Before they even got here neighbors, Scott and Ean, dropped in and it ended up being a lively, happy evening - good times with good people.
Another week has gone by and the election is behind us - thank goodness - I've about overdosed on politics lately. Of course, being from Saskatchewan, no one will be surprised to hear that I'm relieved that the Stephen Harper remains at the helm. I'm not a dyed-in-the-wool Conservative, but I just wasn't comfortable with any of the other partys' platforms. If there ever was a time for a "steady as she goes" approach, it is now. One only needs to watch the stock market to see how panic is turning the whole system into a rollercoaster ride. We need calm. We need steadiness. Mr. Harper's much maligned blue sweater is comforting - I'm kind of glad that the media and the opposition parties made such a big deal out of it. How many people would have missed it otherwise?
In our little corner of the world - with everyone's jobs tied in some part to the oil industry - we wait to see what the price of oil is going to do. Will the demand for it slow? How many oil companies will go under? How many will cut back? How many rigs will be shut down? Who will be laid off? For how long? I'm sure the miners up north feel the same way, and those in the potash industry. Farmers have seen the prices for their grain drop to half of what they were this spring already. We're all about natural resouces out here, and our livelihoods are directly tied to being able to sell what we produce. This is scary stuff for everyone.
Glen had an oil lease that was supposed to be ready for a rig immediately so he was gone extra early; as it was a long weekend there were a lot of the crew who had other plans and couldn't be there. I was up before the sun came up (which really is nothing to brag about anymore - the days are getting shorter all the time) and managed to get a lot of the in-house chores done before I went out to tackle the garden.
There was still a half row of carrots to dig - not bad you say? Well, the original row was over thirty feet long so you do the math. I tried and failed to get the garden tiller started so I had to haul it manually over to the quonset to put it away. The dogs loved it when I lifted the tarps we had used for covering the tomatoes because it gave them mice to chase for a few minutes. Once I was sure that all the wildlife had left the premesis I folded them up and put them away too.
Next there were dahlia tubers to dig and garden tools to put away. Working with the cold mud, my poor fingers were nearly frozen by this time so I snapped the tops off all the carrots, put them in a big plastic tub and hauled that back up to the house. I couldn't believe it when I looked at my watch and saw it wasn't even 10:00 yet! Sandy had hinted that it sure would be nice if there was a pot of home made soup and fresh-from-the-oven buns ready when she arrived home. I had started the soup before I left the house and I still had time for the buns. It's amazing what you can get done with a storm bearing down on you!
Glen must have called me six times during the day, wanting up dates on the weather forecast. It never wavered - it was still headed our way. But it took longer to get here than they had predicted; there was nothing until about 6:00 on Sunday morning. It really came down for an hour or so, but once the sun was up it switched to rain here. The family plans for Thanksgiving supper was to have the meal at my niece's in Macoun, down near Estevan, and much as it would have been lovely to be there, the thought of having to drive in that mess (it was an all snow event there), especially the trip home, helped us decide to just have our own quiet little supper here at the farm.
It was very quiet - Mitchell had gone to Brandon to spend the weekend with his friends, Wayne and Jacqui were back in Australia, and Jesse lives much closer to Macoun than she does to here so she went to the family supper. It was Sandy, Glen and I, a roast chicken and a pumpkin pie.
To make up for the lack of company on Sunday, though, Monday ended up being quite the opposite. Sandy and I had decided to make a pizza for supper but we needed mozzerella cheese so we called friends who lived in town to come on out for supper - and bring some cheese! Before they even got here neighbors, Scott and Ean, dropped in and it ended up being a lively, happy evening - good times with good people.
Another week has gone by and the election is behind us - thank goodness - I've about overdosed on politics lately. Of course, being from Saskatchewan, no one will be surprised to hear that I'm relieved that the Stephen Harper remains at the helm. I'm not a dyed-in-the-wool Conservative, but I just wasn't comfortable with any of the other partys' platforms. If there ever was a time for a "steady as she goes" approach, it is now. One only needs to watch the stock market to see how panic is turning the whole system into a rollercoaster ride. We need calm. We need steadiness. Mr. Harper's much maligned blue sweater is comforting - I'm kind of glad that the media and the opposition parties made such a big deal out of it. How many people would have missed it otherwise?
In our little corner of the world - with everyone's jobs tied in some part to the oil industry - we wait to see what the price of oil is going to do. Will the demand for it slow? How many oil companies will go under? How many will cut back? How many rigs will be shut down? Who will be laid off? For how long? I'm sure the miners up north feel the same way, and those in the potash industry. Farmers have seen the prices for their grain drop to half of what they were this spring already. We're all about natural resouces out here, and our livelihoods are directly tied to being able to sell what we produce. This is scary stuff for everyone.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
TIME IN A BOTTLE
Here is another of my weekly columns that kind of sums up the month of September , 2008 for our family ...
TIME IN A BOTTLE
By Jocelyn Hainsworth
If I could save time in a bottle / The first thing that I’d like to do / Is to save every day / Till eternity passes away / Just to spend them with you.
I’m not normally a fan of Jim Croce’s music, but these words and the hauntingly simple melody that they are sung to are different. Who hasn’t wished for more minutes of the special times in their lives? Who wouldn’t love to go back and re-live certain moments? Who doesn’t wish that they could keep time in a bottle? Jim’s poetry touches us all.
So much has happened at our house in the past month: the preparations for the wedding, greeting friends and guests from far and wide, playing with our grandchildren - there hasn’t been one bad moment. We’ve laughed together, shared meals together, and emptied a few bottles of wine.
There were afternoons on the deck preparing the centerpieces and bouquets for the big day, with happy kids jumping on the trampoline out in front of the house, and two little boys reactivating a couple of old Tonka trucks for gravel hauling after almost two decades of gathering dust in the basement.
The wedding day was all we could have asked for - the bride in her perfect dress and the flower girl finally being allowed to wear her pretty dress and ballerina shoes too. Everyone dressed up and their hair done, with cameras clicking steady to capture the moment. The bride’s and groom’s friends, our friends, close family and distant well-wishers; they all made the day special.
There have been quad rides and cattle drives, potato digs and many little handfuls of petunias picked specially for me. The warmth of a sleeping baby cuddled in my arms, the wriggle and giggles of a little girl trying (not too hard) to escape being tickled. The happy grin of a little boy being allowed to steer the lawn mower on his own. Reading the same favorite book over and over so many times everyone in the house has it memorized now.
A night, even in mid September, that was warm enough for us to build a bonfire so that we could laugh and tell stories around the flames until almost the midnight hour, and another night when Grandpa treated everyone first to ice cream, and then to fire works.
If I could make days last forever / If words could makes wishes come true / I’d save every day like a treasure and then / Again, I would spend them with you.
Of course, short of inventing a time machine, there is no way to actually live a day over again. Instead we have been given the power of memory. All the experiences of our lives are stored in our own personal memory bottles, for us to revisit time and again when a certain scent or song or sound stirs them to life.
It is so fitting that all these recent memories were made during this season of autumn. My favorite of all seasons. A time of fullness, of ripeness, of exquisite completeness.
There will never be a time when I breathe in the heady fragrance of harvest that I won’t think of these days. When the softer sunshine of autumn warms my skin, even years from now, I will think of these days. When the trees take on their fall colors, I will remember these days. When the evening temperatures begin to dip low enough to put frost on the ground, I will remember these days. And yet, even as I recall those memories, I will likely be making new ones too.
Jim’s song speaks of saving time until eternity passes away, not something that we’ll ever be able to do, but a memory bottle that always has room for more seems to be a pretty nice consolation prize.
TIME IN A BOTTLE
By Jocelyn Hainsworth
If I could save time in a bottle / The first thing that I’d like to do / Is to save every day / Till eternity passes away / Just to spend them with you.
I’m not normally a fan of Jim Croce’s music, but these words and the hauntingly simple melody that they are sung to are different. Who hasn’t wished for more minutes of the special times in their lives? Who wouldn’t love to go back and re-live certain moments? Who doesn’t wish that they could keep time in a bottle? Jim’s poetry touches us all.
So much has happened at our house in the past month: the preparations for the wedding, greeting friends and guests from far and wide, playing with our grandchildren - there hasn’t been one bad moment. We’ve laughed together, shared meals together, and emptied a few bottles of wine.
There were afternoons on the deck preparing the centerpieces and bouquets for the big day, with happy kids jumping on the trampoline out in front of the house, and two little boys reactivating a couple of old Tonka trucks for gravel hauling after almost two decades of gathering dust in the basement.
The wedding day was all we could have asked for - the bride in her perfect dress and the flower girl finally being allowed to wear her pretty dress and ballerina shoes too. Everyone dressed up and their hair done, with cameras clicking steady to capture the moment. The bride’s and groom’s friends, our friends, close family and distant well-wishers; they all made the day special.
There have been quad rides and cattle drives, potato digs and many little handfuls of petunias picked specially for me. The warmth of a sleeping baby cuddled in my arms, the wriggle and giggles of a little girl trying (not too hard) to escape being tickled. The happy grin of a little boy being allowed to steer the lawn mower on his own. Reading the same favorite book over and over so many times everyone in the house has it memorized now.
A night, even in mid September, that was warm enough for us to build a bonfire so that we could laugh and tell stories around the flames until almost the midnight hour, and another night when Grandpa treated everyone first to ice cream, and then to fire works.
If I could make days last forever / If words could makes wishes come true / I’d save every day like a treasure and then / Again, I would spend them with you.
Of course, short of inventing a time machine, there is no way to actually live a day over again. Instead we have been given the power of memory. All the experiences of our lives are stored in our own personal memory bottles, for us to revisit time and again when a certain scent or song or sound stirs them to life.
It is so fitting that all these recent memories were made during this season of autumn. My favorite of all seasons. A time of fullness, of ripeness, of exquisite completeness.
There will never be a time when I breathe in the heady fragrance of harvest that I won’t think of these days. When the softer sunshine of autumn warms my skin, even years from now, I will think of these days. When the trees take on their fall colors, I will remember these days. When the evening temperatures begin to dip low enough to put frost on the ground, I will remember these days. And yet, even as I recall those memories, I will likely be making new ones too.
Jim’s song speaks of saving time until eternity passes away, not something that we’ll ever be able to do, but a memory bottle that always has room for more seems to be a pretty nice consolation prize.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Well, the deed is done! Jesse and Andrew are married, and it really was a wonderful day.
I can't believe how lucky we were that we didn't get a hard frost until the night of the wedding. The grass stayed green all through the end of summer with the rains that kept coming, and the flowers in the garden are still in full bloom. The wedding was in town at the church, but all the photos were taken outside - most of them in the yard here, or across the road in the pasture with the cattle and Jesse's horses in the background. The whole wedding had a real harvest and country flavor.
The house here has just been over-flowing with noise and confusion for the past week or so. Our son Wayne and his wife Jacqui, along with their family, a six year old girl, a set of three year old twin boys, and a five month old infant, have been staying with us. they made the trip from Australia for the big day and are staying for the whole month. It's lovely to have them, although getting used to toys and noise after spending the past three years in the peace and serenity of a no kid environment takes some adjustment. The way I see it, they'll be gone too soon and I'd better enjoy rocking babies and coloring pictures while I can.
Harvest is off to a pretty slow start. The farmers were going great guns over the Labor Day long weekend, but then the rains started and the fabulous crops began their slide in grades and worth. Being so busy with wedding plans, I had been unaware of how little combining was actually done, but friends at the wedding dance were saying that they weren't even 25 % done yet. The next trip I made to town I took note of the unharvested fields and, sure enough, there is a lot out there - and the stems are starting to break down which makes picking it up with the combine all the more trickier. I've also heard that a substantial portion of the crop has sprouted which is also a very bad thing.
Glen had taken a lot of time off to prepare for the wedding as well, so he is back to work in the oil field to catch up on lost days. He has arranged for a neighbor to come and combine our barley so that he doesn't have to take more time off. They were supposed to be going yesterday but ran into all kinds of hold ups ( a very typical occurrence in harvest) and only got set up at dark last night. They should have been rolling this morning first thing, but again were held up with a soaking fog throughout the night. The temperatures are really high this afternoon so they should be going soon. We don't have much to do compared to everyone else, but it's still nice to have it done.
It doesn't feel much like fall out there. It's beastly hot and the steers are off their feed (their appetites pick right up after it cools down at night, but during the heat of the day they just go looking for shade to lay in). At least the colors are telling us it's September - and that's only since the frost on Sunday morning - the maples are gold and the sky is the powder blue that only September skies are. My porch smells like apples, I've more cucumbers than we'll ever be able to eat, and if those tomatoes ever begin to ripen, I'll have to make tubs of salsa and tomatoe sauce.
I can't believe how lucky we were that we didn't get a hard frost until the night of the wedding. The grass stayed green all through the end of summer with the rains that kept coming, and the flowers in the garden are still in full bloom. The wedding was in town at the church, but all the photos were taken outside - most of them in the yard here, or across the road in the pasture with the cattle and Jesse's horses in the background. The whole wedding had a real harvest and country flavor.
The house here has just been over-flowing with noise and confusion for the past week or so. Our son Wayne and his wife Jacqui, along with their family, a six year old girl, a set of three year old twin boys, and a five month old infant, have been staying with us. they made the trip from Australia for the big day and are staying for the whole month. It's lovely to have them, although getting used to toys and noise after spending the past three years in the peace and serenity of a no kid environment takes some adjustment. The way I see it, they'll be gone too soon and I'd better enjoy rocking babies and coloring pictures while I can.
Harvest is off to a pretty slow start. The farmers were going great guns over the Labor Day long weekend, but then the rains started and the fabulous crops began their slide in grades and worth. Being so busy with wedding plans, I had been unaware of how little combining was actually done, but friends at the wedding dance were saying that they weren't even 25 % done yet. The next trip I made to town I took note of the unharvested fields and, sure enough, there is a lot out there - and the stems are starting to break down which makes picking it up with the combine all the more trickier. I've also heard that a substantial portion of the crop has sprouted which is also a very bad thing.
Glen had taken a lot of time off to prepare for the wedding as well, so he is back to work in the oil field to catch up on lost days. He has arranged for a neighbor to come and combine our barley so that he doesn't have to take more time off. They were supposed to be going yesterday but ran into all kinds of hold ups ( a very typical occurrence in harvest) and only got set up at dark last night. They should have been rolling this morning first thing, but again were held up with a soaking fog throughout the night. The temperatures are really high this afternoon so they should be going soon. We don't have much to do compared to everyone else, but it's still nice to have it done.
It doesn't feel much like fall out there. It's beastly hot and the steers are off their feed (their appetites pick right up after it cools down at night, but during the heat of the day they just go looking for shade to lay in). At least the colors are telling us it's September - and that's only since the frost on Sunday morning - the maples are gold and the sky is the powder blue that only September skies are. My porch smells like apples, I've more cucumbers than we'll ever be able to eat, and if those tomatoes ever begin to ripen, I'll have to make tubs of salsa and tomatoe sauce.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
THE WEDDING PLANNER
It was a hellish hot day today. Probably not for those people out trying to get one more weekend in at the cottage or beach, but we farmers could really do without temperatures in the 30s at the moment. It never fails that the air conditioning breaks down on the hottest day of harvest, and with the weather man telling us that rain is just over the horizon there is no quitting until you can get it fixed. When the difference in price for perfect wheat, as opposed to bleached or sprouted wheat, is thousands of dollars, you suck it up, open up the cab for a little air flow, drink water by the gallon, and keep on trucking! And, thank the good lord when the sun goes down.
Not that you necessarily get to quit; sometimes the dew settles right away and you're done for the night, but on nights like tonight when there's a bit of a breeze, and the cool air is much kinder the trucks keep rolling. We're not combining yet - Glen is down at the neighbour's baling his straw, but standing on my deck I can count four combines going in the distance. At least hundred thousand dollars of grain and oilseeds must have been hauled past the yard today. Things are in full swing at the moment and the weather man is promising to spoil it all by Monday. He's not a popular guy, I can tell you!
What I spent my day doing was house and yard work. Our daughter's wedding is only two weeks away now and there is a lot to do. My brother-in-law has been finishing our deck and back door step (it's only been on hold for four years and has almost reached grounds for divorce status a couple of times). We've had to marry off a child to actually provide the push to finish it, but I'm beginning to think it was worth the wait. You gotta love a carpenter who comes with his own creative ideas and suggests different things that take it from a plain deck to a special extension of the house. I can see that it will provide a lovely setting for wedding photos too!
I had planned to get mere done outside but I really can't handle the heat. I did some weeding in my rock garden and then had to do chores as Glen wasn't going to be home until very late. If you think 30 degrees is hot outside, just try stepping into a steel bin and filling 27 pails with chop. It's just plain nasty. And the itchy dust sticks to your sweaty skin and makes the job just that much more enjoyable. I filled all those pails with the oats and barley mix, carried them out to the feeders and dumped them, and then went back and filled them all over again for tomorrow morning's chores. After all, once you're that sweaty and itchy, what difference does it make?
As soon as I was done I went straight to the house and had the coolest shower I could stand, then cracked two beer and sat down with Dale to enjoy the deck and watch the hummingbirds fight over the feeders. Dry barley dust on a day like today is an evil thing, but make beer out of it, and it's not such a bad thing after all!
There isn't a day that isn't full from now until the wedding. As soon as Dale has his tools out of the garage I'll be trying to clean it out, and the porch needs to be emptied of all the stuff that gathers there too. All the bedrooms have to be made ready and by this time next week I'll be in Winnipeg picking up the Aussie branch of our family. If things weren't busy enough before that, having four kids under six years old around the place will certainly put us into fast forward.
There hasn't been a hint of frost yet so the gardens are all looking great. I know I'd get hit for saying this, but the rain that they promise on Monday won't hurt my feelings at all. The flowers could all use a good drink and it would keep the grass green too. Don't tell any farmers I said that!
Not that you necessarily get to quit; sometimes the dew settles right away and you're done for the night, but on nights like tonight when there's a bit of a breeze, and the cool air is much kinder the trucks keep rolling. We're not combining yet - Glen is down at the neighbour's baling his straw, but standing on my deck I can count four combines going in the distance. At least hundred thousand dollars of grain and oilseeds must have been hauled past the yard today. Things are in full swing at the moment and the weather man is promising to spoil it all by Monday. He's not a popular guy, I can tell you!
What I spent my day doing was house and yard work. Our daughter's wedding is only two weeks away now and there is a lot to do. My brother-in-law has been finishing our deck and back door step (it's only been on hold for four years and has almost reached grounds for divorce status a couple of times). We've had to marry off a child to actually provide the push to finish it, but I'm beginning to think it was worth the wait. You gotta love a carpenter who comes with his own creative ideas and suggests different things that take it from a plain deck to a special extension of the house. I can see that it will provide a lovely setting for wedding photos too!
I had planned to get mere done outside but I really can't handle the heat. I did some weeding in my rock garden and then had to do chores as Glen wasn't going to be home until very late. If you think 30 degrees is hot outside, just try stepping into a steel bin and filling 27 pails with chop. It's just plain nasty. And the itchy dust sticks to your sweaty skin and makes the job just that much more enjoyable. I filled all those pails with the oats and barley mix, carried them out to the feeders and dumped them, and then went back and filled them all over again for tomorrow morning's chores. After all, once you're that sweaty and itchy, what difference does it make?
As soon as I was done I went straight to the house and had the coolest shower I could stand, then cracked two beer and sat down with Dale to enjoy the deck and watch the hummingbirds fight over the feeders. Dry barley dust on a day like today is an evil thing, but make beer out of it, and it's not such a bad thing after all!
There isn't a day that isn't full from now until the wedding. As soon as Dale has his tools out of the garage I'll be trying to clean it out, and the porch needs to be emptied of all the stuff that gathers there too. All the bedrooms have to be made ready and by this time next week I'll be in Winnipeg picking up the Aussie branch of our family. If things weren't busy enough before that, having four kids under six years old around the place will certainly put us into fast forward.
There hasn't been a hint of frost yet so the gardens are all looking great. I know I'd get hit for saying this, but the rain that they promise on Monday won't hurt my feelings at all. The flowers could all use a good drink and it would keep the grass green too. Don't tell any farmers I said that!
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Another of my columns
Here is another of my weekly columns - it turned out kinda nice so I thought I would share it on my blog ...
THINGS OF TRUE WORTH
By Jocelyn Hainsworth
These are the days of bounty. Every day our dinner menu is the stuff of garden freshness and plenty. New potatoes. Fresh carrots. Leaf lettuce salad with green onions, chopped radishes and Grandma Q’s creamy dressing. Cucumbers; sweet and juicy, beets with melted butter, and green and yellow beans cooked and served together, not so much because they taste better that way, but because I like the mixture of colors. Every meal is a feast fit for the gods.
And, to complement the richness of the garden, one night last week there were thick and juicy T-bones steaks out on the grill. It just doesn’t get better than that.
When it came time to put it all on the table I went to the cupboard to get a plate, but knew the minute that I pulled one out that it wouldn’t do. What this feast called for was something special, and I knew just the thing.
Above my microwave, and central to the whole kitchen, sits a platter that is one of my most precious possessions. I use it on special occasions - like when the roast turns out just perfect, or when I’m feeling kind of blue ... or when I’m feeling extra happy. I love the way a whole meal of meat, veggies and potatoes all can be arranged in its oval depression. Its solid presence gives me comfort; its lack of pretentiousness suits my style. It is as plain as plain can be. It was my mother’s
I have all kinds of other, and much more fancy, serving ware - things that come out at Christmas time and are polished up for their once or twice a year turn on the table. They’re pretty, and I do enjoy using them, but expensive and valuable are two different things. If the pretty ones broke I could probably replace them, if something happened to mom’s platter an important little connection that I have with her would be gone forever. I’m pretty careful to wash and dry it by hand and keep it up high, out of harm’s way - but I use it often; that’s part of the connection.
You would laugh if you saw this dish. The inked stamp on the back tells me that it is Royal Ironstone, but I can’t imagine anyone on Antiques Roadshow getting excited to see it. It is white, heavy, and has numerous blemishes. But it was a part of my mother’s kitchen, and now it’s a part of mine. An important part of mine.
The strangest part of it all is that, back when it was still hers I remember thinking that we should really get her something nicer. I considered it ugly, in fact; something that had probably been given to her, or that she had picked up at a garage sale, after she had lost all her original things in a house fire. The food she served on it was always top notch, but the platter itself left a lot to be desired.
So, when I discovered it at the bottom of a box of other kitchen things I bought at her auction sale, I was unimpressed. I couldn’t quite bring myself to throw it away, but neither could I see myself using it. And, ironically, because of its shape and size, I didn’t have a cupboard that it fit into easily. Not knowing what else to do with it, I put it on the microwave - which is as close to the “hearth” as any modern kitchen can come. And a very fitting place for my mother to be.
I couldn’t really tell you when it started being important to me. Was it because it was always there, and handy, when I needed it? Was it its solid warmth every time I picked it up, from sitting above the oven? Is it because of the blemishes that remind me that we all have them, and we can be loved anyway? Do I appreciate it most for its lesson in humility?
This coming week would mark mom’s 82nd birthday if she were still here. I think I’ll make a special supper. You know what I’ll be serving it on.
THINGS OF TRUE WORTH
By Jocelyn Hainsworth
These are the days of bounty. Every day our dinner menu is the stuff of garden freshness and plenty. New potatoes. Fresh carrots. Leaf lettuce salad with green onions, chopped radishes and Grandma Q’s creamy dressing. Cucumbers; sweet and juicy, beets with melted butter, and green and yellow beans cooked and served together, not so much because they taste better that way, but because I like the mixture of colors. Every meal is a feast fit for the gods.
And, to complement the richness of the garden, one night last week there were thick and juicy T-bones steaks out on the grill. It just doesn’t get better than that.
When it came time to put it all on the table I went to the cupboard to get a plate, but knew the minute that I pulled one out that it wouldn’t do. What this feast called for was something special, and I knew just the thing.
Above my microwave, and central to the whole kitchen, sits a platter that is one of my most precious possessions. I use it on special occasions - like when the roast turns out just perfect, or when I’m feeling kind of blue ... or when I’m feeling extra happy. I love the way a whole meal of meat, veggies and potatoes all can be arranged in its oval depression. Its solid presence gives me comfort; its lack of pretentiousness suits my style. It is as plain as plain can be. It was my mother’s
I have all kinds of other, and much more fancy, serving ware - things that come out at Christmas time and are polished up for their once or twice a year turn on the table. They’re pretty, and I do enjoy using them, but expensive and valuable are two different things. If the pretty ones broke I could probably replace them, if something happened to mom’s platter an important little connection that I have with her would be gone forever. I’m pretty careful to wash and dry it by hand and keep it up high, out of harm’s way - but I use it often; that’s part of the connection.
You would laugh if you saw this dish. The inked stamp on the back tells me that it is Royal Ironstone, but I can’t imagine anyone on Antiques Roadshow getting excited to see it. It is white, heavy, and has numerous blemishes. But it was a part of my mother’s kitchen, and now it’s a part of mine. An important part of mine.
The strangest part of it all is that, back when it was still hers I remember thinking that we should really get her something nicer. I considered it ugly, in fact; something that had probably been given to her, or that she had picked up at a garage sale, after she had lost all her original things in a house fire. The food she served on it was always top notch, but the platter itself left a lot to be desired.
So, when I discovered it at the bottom of a box of other kitchen things I bought at her auction sale, I was unimpressed. I couldn’t quite bring myself to throw it away, but neither could I see myself using it. And, ironically, because of its shape and size, I didn’t have a cupboard that it fit into easily. Not knowing what else to do with it, I put it on the microwave - which is as close to the “hearth” as any modern kitchen can come. And a very fitting place for my mother to be.
I couldn’t really tell you when it started being important to me. Was it because it was always there, and handy, when I needed it? Was it its solid warmth every time I picked it up, from sitting above the oven? Is it because of the blemishes that remind me that we all have them, and we can be loved anyway? Do I appreciate it most for its lesson in humility?
This coming week would mark mom’s 82nd birthday if she were still here. I think I’ll make a special supper. You know what I’ll be serving it on.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
MID AUGUST
The crickets are chirping at night and the grasshoppers are buzzing in the tall grass - late summer sounds for sure - but with the timely rains we've been having everything is still pretty green; it looks more like July than August. I believe that with the beginning of this next week farmers with the early crops of peas and lentils will be into harvest, and the barley will follow closely after that. Another summer season is winding down.
We only have oats and barley to combine, and it went in so late that it will be a fair few more weeks before it's time to harvest them. As we only grow grains to feed the cattle with, getting it off in perfect condition is not a necessity, the cows don't seem to be bothered by a rain stain or a little sprouting. Actually, the human end user of most grains would be hard pressed to spot any of the tiny deviations from perfection that grain companies dock farmers for. I'd bet no one could tell the difference in taste between #1 and #2 hard red spring wheat once it was ground into flour, but you'd better believe there is a difference in the prices the farmers were paid for it.
Glen finished baling hay last night. That's one job we can call complete for the 2008 season. We will hire the hauling and stacking done and then can move on the next thing. Glen and I were out this morning moving electric fence wire (actually, it looks more like ribbon, but don't touch it if it's plugged in!) . The youngest of the three herds have eaten their way through the little calving pasture and on through one pie shaped slice of oats. The job this morning was to cut them another piece of the pie to hold them over for another week or so. Glen has become a firm believer in small paddock rotational grazing - only give them a little bit at a time. Cows tend to trample more than they eat and the more space you give them, the more they waste.
After we had moved that bunch into new eating grounds we toured up to 21 to move the big herd over to their next pasture. You can see that they are starting to get their pastures eaten down pretty evenly - when they heard the quad's motor they all turned and made for the center gates. They know what our presence means - they get a whole new field to graze! Once they catch on to that idea you never have to go find them, or chase them, ever again. There were the last of the new babies there today. In fact one of the mamas must have been busy birthing hers when we moved the herd last time because she and a beautiful caramel-colored baby heifer were locked away from the other cattle. The mother was sure making sure she wasn't missed this time! She wasn't short on feed, but cows are herd animals and don't like life on their own. And, with a baby to protect, it is much easier to keep an eye out for coyotes if there are lots of pairs of eyes watching all the time.
Lastly we took a drive through the pasture with our other herd in it. They've got a bit of eating left on it, but it will be good to get those bales moved off the hay ground so that we can run them all out there. It's late summer and the lush growth is past. The weatherman says that we're supposed to be getting rain tonight and tomorrow and I'm hoping that this will come true - everything could use a good drink.
So far, throughout this summer of destructive storms, we have been dodging that bullet. Oh, we've had the noisy nights and the spectacular light shows, and one night we even got a few dime-sized hail stones, but compared to some other places, this is next to nothing. By the middle of July Saskatchewan Crop Insurance was saying that almost every rural municipality had put in hail claims - it's been a wild summer no matter where you lived. The most damage we got was some big ragged holes in the leaves of my sunflowers, potatoes, and squash plants.
I guess, if it's going to rain, I'd better get out there and pick the rest of my raspberries. I'm all slathered up with sun screen so there's no time like the present! Love the berries, hate the thorns.
We only have oats and barley to combine, and it went in so late that it will be a fair few more weeks before it's time to harvest them. As we only grow grains to feed the cattle with, getting it off in perfect condition is not a necessity, the cows don't seem to be bothered by a rain stain or a little sprouting. Actually, the human end user of most grains would be hard pressed to spot any of the tiny deviations from perfection that grain companies dock farmers for. I'd bet no one could tell the difference in taste between #1 and #2 hard red spring wheat once it was ground into flour, but you'd better believe there is a difference in the prices the farmers were paid for it.
Glen finished baling hay last night. That's one job we can call complete for the 2008 season. We will hire the hauling and stacking done and then can move on the next thing. Glen and I were out this morning moving electric fence wire (actually, it looks more like ribbon, but don't touch it if it's plugged in!) . The youngest of the three herds have eaten their way through the little calving pasture and on through one pie shaped slice of oats. The job this morning was to cut them another piece of the pie to hold them over for another week or so. Glen has become a firm believer in small paddock rotational grazing - only give them a little bit at a time. Cows tend to trample more than they eat and the more space you give them, the more they waste.
After we had moved that bunch into new eating grounds we toured up to 21 to move the big herd over to their next pasture. You can see that they are starting to get their pastures eaten down pretty evenly - when they heard the quad's motor they all turned and made for the center gates. They know what our presence means - they get a whole new field to graze! Once they catch on to that idea you never have to go find them, or chase them, ever again. There were the last of the new babies there today. In fact one of the mamas must have been busy birthing hers when we moved the herd last time because she and a beautiful caramel-colored baby heifer were locked away from the other cattle. The mother was sure making sure she wasn't missed this time! She wasn't short on feed, but cows are herd animals and don't like life on their own. And, with a baby to protect, it is much easier to keep an eye out for coyotes if there are lots of pairs of eyes watching all the time.
Lastly we took a drive through the pasture with our other herd in it. They've got a bit of eating left on it, but it will be good to get those bales moved off the hay ground so that we can run them all out there. It's late summer and the lush growth is past. The weatherman says that we're supposed to be getting rain tonight and tomorrow and I'm hoping that this will come true - everything could use a good drink.
So far, throughout this summer of destructive storms, we have been dodging that bullet. Oh, we've had the noisy nights and the spectacular light shows, and one night we even got a few dime-sized hail stones, but compared to some other places, this is next to nothing. By the middle of July Saskatchewan Crop Insurance was saying that almost every rural municipality had put in hail claims - it's been a wild summer no matter where you lived. The most damage we got was some big ragged holes in the leaves of my sunflowers, potatoes, and squash plants.
I guess, if it's going to rain, I'd better get out there and pick the rest of my raspberries. I'm all slathered up with sun screen so there's no time like the present! Love the berries, hate the thorns.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Just for laughs
I write a humor column in the local paper and sometimes the subject matter is farm related - people are getting quite a kick out of this one, so I thought I'd post it on my blog too. I have to warn you though, getting the jokes definitely dates you. Those young whipper-snappers don't know who Matt Dillon and Roy Rogers are!
COWBOY COMPLEX
By Jocelyn Hainsworth
Every once in a while my farmer gets to thinking he’s a cowboy too. I’m not too sure which one he thinks he is ... John Wayne? Matt Dillon? Roy Rogers? Or maybe a combination of all three - let’s see, he can probably sing as well as John and toss whiskey back as good as old Roy ever could. I can’t remember, what did Matt do except try to keep Doc Adams and Festus from killing each other? The only thing he really likes to do with horses is pet them.
I guess you’d have to say that he is his own brand of cowboy. You’d never see Clint Eastwood wearing a pair of beat up bib coveralls out to ride the range. And his trademark polka dot welding cap hardly inspires western theme music, either. Whoever he thinks he is, it’s not your stereo-typical ride-off-into-the-sunset kind of macho gunslinger.
But still, he is a boy. And, he has these cows.
He feeds them. He bales for them. He builds fence for them. He makes chop for them. He scratches their backs and tells them all how sleek and pretty they are looking. Truth to tell, he would do well to spend at least a quarter that much time and attention on me - but of course, he doesn’t plan on selling me for money.
He does pride himself on having healthy animals - and in a natural way. They just get good feed and water and we stay away from any drugs or hormones. We’re not going to raise anything that we wouldn’t want to eat ourselves. But there are times when a cowboy has to step in and do some doctoring - like when a yearling heifer gets an injury to her eye.
That was the scenario on Monday night when the farmer/cowboy came up to the house and started rooting through his fishing tackle box that doubles as a vet supplies case. He had decided that #766 needed medical attention. He got busy and prepared his instruments of torture: a large syringe to squirt saline solution in her eye, a tube of suave to rub in her eye, and a needle full of antibiotics for good measure. We filled a container with warm salt water and off we went to the barn - where he collected the equipment it was going to take to get her to stand while he did his doctoring ... a rope, and another rope, and a halter. I suggested the squeeze chute, but that’s always a last resort when he’s feeling like a cowboy.
Even though she was half blind, she knew something was up when he entered the pen draped in rope. Not that she had much to worry about, even surrounded by 50 other animals, all lazily munching on their evening chop, it took him three or four tosses to get his lasso over her head - and then she neatly stepped through the loop so that by the time the man with the split second reflexes yanked the rope tight she was sporting a belt around her midsection. It took even longer to get the belt off than it did to put it on.
The rodeo went on. He caught her again and the clasp on the rope let go. He snared her again but couldn’t convince her to let him get her close to a pole to tie her up again. As he stood there, puffing, and anchoring his end of the rope, he decided that the squeeze chute might be the way to go after all.
She was some riled by this time, so steering her into a metal cage was an adventure all its own with me opening the back gate and trying to set the head gate so it would catch - of course with him calmly explaining how the mechanism worked. Remember how nice Roy Rogers was to Dale Evans? Well, it wasn’t like that, but over the next ten minutes we wrangled #766 into the bovine equivalent of the hospital’s minor room.
The actual treatment procedure was kind of subdued. I had her in a halter head lock but she didn’t even twitch when he washed the eye. She wasn’t too happy about the suave massage, but it was the shot of penicillin that really fired the fight back up in her again; that stuff must really hurt.
We set her free and gathered up all the doctoring gear. It was a warm night and John/Matt/Roy was smelling a lot like Trigger after one of them day long gallops they used to do on TV. We headed for the house with him opening and closing gates as need be, and me following behind carrying all the stuff. I’m not sure who he is, but you can call me Tonto.
COWBOY COMPLEX
By Jocelyn Hainsworth
Every once in a while my farmer gets to thinking he’s a cowboy too. I’m not too sure which one he thinks he is ... John Wayne? Matt Dillon? Roy Rogers? Or maybe a combination of all three - let’s see, he can probably sing as well as John and toss whiskey back as good as old Roy ever could. I can’t remember, what did Matt do except try to keep Doc Adams and Festus from killing each other? The only thing he really likes to do with horses is pet them.
I guess you’d have to say that he is his own brand of cowboy. You’d never see Clint Eastwood wearing a pair of beat up bib coveralls out to ride the range. And his trademark polka dot welding cap hardly inspires western theme music, either. Whoever he thinks he is, it’s not your stereo-typical ride-off-into-the-sunset kind of macho gunslinger.
But still, he is a boy. And, he has these cows.
He feeds them. He bales for them. He builds fence for them. He makes chop for them. He scratches their backs and tells them all how sleek and pretty they are looking. Truth to tell, he would do well to spend at least a quarter that much time and attention on me - but of course, he doesn’t plan on selling me for money.
He does pride himself on having healthy animals - and in a natural way. They just get good feed and water and we stay away from any drugs or hormones. We’re not going to raise anything that we wouldn’t want to eat ourselves. But there are times when a cowboy has to step in and do some doctoring - like when a yearling heifer gets an injury to her eye.
That was the scenario on Monday night when the farmer/cowboy came up to the house and started rooting through his fishing tackle box that doubles as a vet supplies case. He had decided that #766 needed medical attention. He got busy and prepared his instruments of torture: a large syringe to squirt saline solution in her eye, a tube of suave to rub in her eye, and a needle full of antibiotics for good measure. We filled a container with warm salt water and off we went to the barn - where he collected the equipment it was going to take to get her to stand while he did his doctoring ... a rope, and another rope, and a halter. I suggested the squeeze chute, but that’s always a last resort when he’s feeling like a cowboy.
Even though she was half blind, she knew something was up when he entered the pen draped in rope. Not that she had much to worry about, even surrounded by 50 other animals, all lazily munching on their evening chop, it took him three or four tosses to get his lasso over her head - and then she neatly stepped through the loop so that by the time the man with the split second reflexes yanked the rope tight she was sporting a belt around her midsection. It took even longer to get the belt off than it did to put it on.
The rodeo went on. He caught her again and the clasp on the rope let go. He snared her again but couldn’t convince her to let him get her close to a pole to tie her up again. As he stood there, puffing, and anchoring his end of the rope, he decided that the squeeze chute might be the way to go after all.
She was some riled by this time, so steering her into a metal cage was an adventure all its own with me opening the back gate and trying to set the head gate so it would catch - of course with him calmly explaining how the mechanism worked. Remember how nice Roy Rogers was to Dale Evans? Well, it wasn’t like that, but over the next ten minutes we wrangled #766 into the bovine equivalent of the hospital’s minor room.
The actual treatment procedure was kind of subdued. I had her in a halter head lock but she didn’t even twitch when he washed the eye. She wasn’t too happy about the suave massage, but it was the shot of penicillin that really fired the fight back up in her again; that stuff must really hurt.
We set her free and gathered up all the doctoring gear. It was a warm night and John/Matt/Roy was smelling a lot like Trigger after one of them day long gallops they used to do on TV. We headed for the house with him opening and closing gates as need be, and me following behind carrying all the stuff. I’m not sure who he is, but you can call me Tonto.
Monday, June 30, 2008
GREAT FOR GROWING HAY
It seems like I'm always starting out this blog with an observation about the weather, and here I go again ... Man Alive! Is it ever hot out there! My ancestors came from the cool, lofty heights of the Scottish Highlands and I'm just not made for temperatures above the low twenties. Neither can my white skin tolerate the blasting UV rays that a day like today throws at it. Hence, I'm hiding out in my house and finding something - anything - to do that keeps me out of the heat and sun. I can see how badly my garden needs weeding from here, but I'm afraid it's on its own until the shade stretches across the lawn at about 7:30, and by that time the mosquitoes will be out for blood.
The rain that I talked about last time and the sun we've had since have completely turned around the hay picture in our area. It's not likely that we'll get the full tonnage we got last year, but we're pleasantly surprised at how much the crop recovered from the cold, dry, slow start it had. The pastures are looking lush and green; the cattle, sleek and content. We have split the herd into three parts this summer - the older cows are up on 21 and have recently been joined by the older Angus bull. The two year old Hereford bull is out with the 2nd and 3rd time calvers across from the house, and I think tomorrow's project is to sort out which of the heifers we are keeping as replacement cows and putting them out to pasture with our young Shorthorn bull on the east side of the home quarter. All the bulls should have been out by now, but Glen has been too busy in the oilfield to be able to get the farming done too. From time to time he comes up with the idea that "we" need to cut back somehow, but besides talking about it, he isn't really committed to the idea. I keep telling him that if he drops dead from overwork, that he's not going to be happy with what I spend all his money on. So far that threat hasn't managed to change anything.
There is an annual family camping weekend coming up that Glen had said he was going to make it to this year, but I can already see the writing on the wall - the guy we get to cut our hay has been at it for two days now, so guess what Glen is going to be doing for every waking minute for the next three weeks? I'm just going to sit back and see when this fact is going to occur to him. I've got a kind of secret bet with myself about which day I'll be told the old "I can't go, but you go and have a good time" line I've been given every year since we got the cows. It will be either Tuesday or Wednesday next week, just you wait and see.
The main focus of this summer is going to be the wedding, anyway. Not much time for any holidays, I'm afraid, as I intend to go to great lengths to keep ahead of the grass and garden situation. We are also very excited about Wayne, Jacqui and family being here for a whole month. We keep in contact with them with web cam conversations, but it will be so much fun to see the kids in person. I've taken two weeks holidays during that time, but am starting to wonder if I should see about taking more. Guess I'll re-assess a little closer to the date.
Besides, I might want to hang on to a few holidays for a winter trip to somewhere in the sun - which seems to be a little crazy when I've just told you how I feel about gardening in the sun. Let's just say that sitting in the shade of a cabana and sipping some kind of fruity rum drink is something I can tolerate in one week doses.
The rain that I talked about last time and the sun we've had since have completely turned around the hay picture in our area. It's not likely that we'll get the full tonnage we got last year, but we're pleasantly surprised at how much the crop recovered from the cold, dry, slow start it had. The pastures are looking lush and green; the cattle, sleek and content. We have split the herd into three parts this summer - the older cows are up on 21 and have recently been joined by the older Angus bull. The two year old Hereford bull is out with the 2nd and 3rd time calvers across from the house, and I think tomorrow's project is to sort out which of the heifers we are keeping as replacement cows and putting them out to pasture with our young Shorthorn bull on the east side of the home quarter. All the bulls should have been out by now, but Glen has been too busy in the oilfield to be able to get the farming done too. From time to time he comes up with the idea that "we" need to cut back somehow, but besides talking about it, he isn't really committed to the idea. I keep telling him that if he drops dead from overwork, that he's not going to be happy with what I spend all his money on. So far that threat hasn't managed to change anything.
There is an annual family camping weekend coming up that Glen had said he was going to make it to this year, but I can already see the writing on the wall - the guy we get to cut our hay has been at it for two days now, so guess what Glen is going to be doing for every waking minute for the next three weeks? I'm just going to sit back and see when this fact is going to occur to him. I've got a kind of secret bet with myself about which day I'll be told the old "I can't go, but you go and have a good time" line I've been given every year since we got the cows. It will be either Tuesday or Wednesday next week, just you wait and see.
The main focus of this summer is going to be the wedding, anyway. Not much time for any holidays, I'm afraid, as I intend to go to great lengths to keep ahead of the grass and garden situation. We are also very excited about Wayne, Jacqui and family being here for a whole month. We keep in contact with them with web cam conversations, but it will be so much fun to see the kids in person. I've taken two weeks holidays during that time, but am starting to wonder if I should see about taking more. Guess I'll re-assess a little closer to the date.
Besides, I might want to hang on to a few holidays for a winter trip to somewhere in the sun - which seems to be a little crazy when I've just told you how I feel about gardening in the sun. Let's just say that sitting in the shade of a cabana and sipping some kind of fruity rum drink is something I can tolerate in one week doses.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
AT THIS RATE WE MAY NEED HIP WADERS
It's the old adage about too much of a good thing ... first there was no rain, then there was one half inch rain, and then another .... and today the heavens opened up and we've nearly had two inches since 11:00 this morning - and the Weather Channel is predicting at least another inch. True to form, there are already farmers that are crying the blues about too much rain. It's no wonder that they have their whiney reputation.
Not that they don't have legitimate long term concerns, but this one big rain is only part of the picture. The crops went into dry ground; it was easy seeding, with no sloughs to go around, and lots of acres for the same reason. The rain eventually came, but dry was only one worry - this spring has been cold. Not long ago you could still dig down and find frost - this is not good for germination. Some crops have come along - slowly, albeit, but coming, while others have had very spotty germination. Sometimes it's a case of seeds just not germinating at all, cutting down on the plant population and harvest potential, and sometimes it's uneven germination where all the seeds eventually come through the ground, but their life stages are different. They need spraying at different times, and they don't ripen for harvest together. Farmers who have literally hundreds of thousands of dollars invested in the crop year so far spend a lot of time wandering around their fields and worrying about stuff like that.
We spent the weekend two weeks ago sorting the cattle to go to the various pastures. The cows and their calves are already out on green grass, but the bulls have to wait one more week. There will be no babies born in the winter next year! Some farmers believe that calves born in January or February bring them more money in the fall but we're not convinced. Their checques might be bigger for the bigger animals that they sell, but how many did they lose in blizzards and freezing temperatures? It's cold, miserable, and unhealthy for all concerned to be out there at 40 below, and more and more cattle producers are deciding that it's just not worth it.
This rain should help the pastures. We were out moving the cows on 21 over to their next paddock on Sunday night and were checking out what there was to eat. Last year when we put them out, if the calves laid down you couldn't see them in the grass and hay. This year there is no losing them - the crop is only at one third of a regular year. This was partly due to the lack of moisture, the rest is the lack of heat and sunshine. Glen baled everything in sight last year and I was beginning to think he was nuts, but he did say that you can never count on next year's hay crop so take what you can when you can ... Is that the same thing as saying you have to make hay while the sun is shining? At any rate, we have a good start at next winter's hay rations already stored - and I'm thankful that my husband tends to go a little nuts from time to time.
I spent last weekend putting all my bedding plants out - and worrying if there would be enough water to water them for the summer. Now I sit in here and wonder if they'll survive the root rot all this water is going to give them. At the moment a big chunk of the lawn I mowed two days ago is under water - we're living in the land of feast or famine.
Not that they don't have legitimate long term concerns, but this one big rain is only part of the picture. The crops went into dry ground; it was easy seeding, with no sloughs to go around, and lots of acres for the same reason. The rain eventually came, but dry was only one worry - this spring has been cold. Not long ago you could still dig down and find frost - this is not good for germination. Some crops have come along - slowly, albeit, but coming, while others have had very spotty germination. Sometimes it's a case of seeds just not germinating at all, cutting down on the plant population and harvest potential, and sometimes it's uneven germination where all the seeds eventually come through the ground, but their life stages are different. They need spraying at different times, and they don't ripen for harvest together. Farmers who have literally hundreds of thousands of dollars invested in the crop year so far spend a lot of time wandering around their fields and worrying about stuff like that.
We spent the weekend two weeks ago sorting the cattle to go to the various pastures. The cows and their calves are already out on green grass, but the bulls have to wait one more week. There will be no babies born in the winter next year! Some farmers believe that calves born in January or February bring them more money in the fall but we're not convinced. Their checques might be bigger for the bigger animals that they sell, but how many did they lose in blizzards and freezing temperatures? It's cold, miserable, and unhealthy for all concerned to be out there at 40 below, and more and more cattle producers are deciding that it's just not worth it.
This rain should help the pastures. We were out moving the cows on 21 over to their next paddock on Sunday night and were checking out what there was to eat. Last year when we put them out, if the calves laid down you couldn't see them in the grass and hay. This year there is no losing them - the crop is only at one third of a regular year. This was partly due to the lack of moisture, the rest is the lack of heat and sunshine. Glen baled everything in sight last year and I was beginning to think he was nuts, but he did say that you can never count on next year's hay crop so take what you can when you can ... Is that the same thing as saying you have to make hay while the sun is shining? At any rate, we have a good start at next winter's hay rations already stored - and I'm thankful that my husband tends to go a little nuts from time to time.
I spent last weekend putting all my bedding plants out - and worrying if there would be enough water to water them for the summer. Now I sit in here and wonder if they'll survive the root rot all this water is going to give them. At the moment a big chunk of the lawn I mowed two days ago is under water - we're living in the land of feast or famine.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
FINALLY, SOME RAIN
The weather forecasters have been teasing us for weeks (or is it months now?) that there was rain on the way, but this time it has actually panned out. The normal course of the week's forecast is to start talking about rain for the southern prairies on the weekend, showing us their projections of where the moisture will fall. For some reason it's always supposed to show up on the following Thursday - I think it gives them time to slowly put those animated maps in retreat so that by Thursday morning they have disappeared completely. And then, come Sunday morning, they start the whole ruse all over again aiming for the next Thursday.
But, finally, the skies have clouded over and we've had a little over a half inch of rain since noon yesterday. It's a nice start, and we'll take anything we can get, but two inches would be what most folks would be asking for if Mother Nature was filling orders. Most of this year's crop is in the ground to take full advantage of the rain, and the pastures and hay fields have been just crying for something to green up on. I don't know what the cattle were going to be eating this summer if this rain hadn't come along.
Another couple of weeks and we'll be putting the cattle out on the pasture (that's right, we've still been feeding them winter hay rations and it's almost the end of May - to put them out on those dry pastures would have put extreme stress on what green plant life there was out there). We bought two new bulls this spring to renew the genetics in the herd so there will be a big sorting job to be done before they head out of the corrals. The smaller bull will be put with the first year heifers - we really want to avoid the calving problems that we had this spring - and the other cows will be put with a new herd sire that doesn't happen to be their sire too. Record keeping from year to year is pretty important to keep this all straight. We will be shipping our oldest bull, too, although Glen hates to see him go. He's been a great asset, but he's older now and his feet are giving him problems. I keep telling Glen that we can't afford to keep a bull just because he's a good "petting" bull.
I managed to get my whole vegetable garden planted yesterday before noon. Mind you, when your husband gets up at 4:30 to get his chores done before he leaves for work, that gives everyone a pretty early start on the day. This rain is going to be fantastic for the germination out there! From the moment the seeds hit the earth, the anticipation for fresh veggies starts. We have been eating our fill of asparagus this past two weeks - the taste is divine!
The advantage of putting metal roofing on your house is that it amplifies the sound of the rain. Maybe, if it rained all the time this would be a bad thing, but believe me, it sounds better than music when you've waited this long for it. I think I'm just going to stay home, make a pot of stew and a batch of buns, and listen to Mother Nature play her own music all afternoon.
But, finally, the skies have clouded over and we've had a little over a half inch of rain since noon yesterday. It's a nice start, and we'll take anything we can get, but two inches would be what most folks would be asking for if Mother Nature was filling orders. Most of this year's crop is in the ground to take full advantage of the rain, and the pastures and hay fields have been just crying for something to green up on. I don't know what the cattle were going to be eating this summer if this rain hadn't come along.
Another couple of weeks and we'll be putting the cattle out on the pasture (that's right, we've still been feeding them winter hay rations and it's almost the end of May - to put them out on those dry pastures would have put extreme stress on what green plant life there was out there). We bought two new bulls this spring to renew the genetics in the herd so there will be a big sorting job to be done before they head out of the corrals. The smaller bull will be put with the first year heifers - we really want to avoid the calving problems that we had this spring - and the other cows will be put with a new herd sire that doesn't happen to be their sire too. Record keeping from year to year is pretty important to keep this all straight. We will be shipping our oldest bull, too, although Glen hates to see him go. He's been a great asset, but he's older now and his feet are giving him problems. I keep telling Glen that we can't afford to keep a bull just because he's a good "petting" bull.
I managed to get my whole vegetable garden planted yesterday before noon. Mind you, when your husband gets up at 4:30 to get his chores done before he leaves for work, that gives everyone a pretty early start on the day. This rain is going to be fantastic for the germination out there! From the moment the seeds hit the earth, the anticipation for fresh veggies starts. We have been eating our fill of asparagus this past two weeks - the taste is divine!
The advantage of putting metal roofing on your house is that it amplifies the sound of the rain. Maybe, if it rained all the time this would be a bad thing, but believe me, it sounds better than music when you've waited this long for it. I think I'm just going to stay home, make a pot of stew and a batch of buns, and listen to Mother Nature play her own music all afternoon.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
LOOKING FORWARD, LOOKING BACK
The sun is shining brightly outside today, and I really should be out there, digging around in my flower beds and putting in the perennials that showed up in the mail on Friday. I do that every year - order seeds for the vegetable garden and then, because it's the dead of winter and I'm longing for green and spring, I "treat" myself to a few new flowers as well. The seeds come right away, but the roots and bulbs don't show up until planting time and by that time I can't remember what I planned to do with them and don't really have the time to do much more than plunk them in the ground. My rock garden is full of very hearty stuff - anything frail or tender doesn't make it past its first season.
I do have to get out there today and get this year's "surprises" in before the sun goes down today because I have a very busy week ahead of me and today is my only reasonable window of opportunity until next weekend. I wish the wind would go down - by the first week of May everyone in Saskatchewan has had enough of the wind.
Last weekend Glen and I went in to Winnipeg to attend Jesse's graduation from the University of Manitoba. She received her diploma in Agriculture on Friday with her class of 37 other graduates - one of the smallest classes that the U of M has had in their 101 years of offering that field of study. Our son, Wayne, graduated there a few years ago with a degree in Environmental Sciences, one of hundreds of students from all different faculties to graduate the same day. The two graduations could hardly have been more different. Jesse's class was small and focussed entirely on their field of study. The speakers spoke only on agriculture, noting that the class of 2008 was this small because of the pessimism in the industry two years ago when they enrolled, and how much enrollment numbers had swollen for the next term indicating the positive outlook of crop prices now.
The farmers around here are obviously banking on a good year (well, actually, at this time of year all farmers believe that the season in front of them holds nothing but the promise of great returns. Without that hope and confidence no one would put a seed in the ground.) There wasn't much field activity last week on our journey to and from Winnipeg, but this week the tractors have certainly been stirring up dust. That's a concern - how much dust there is - we need rain and a lot of it. The weather has been cooler that normal so I'm not sure if the ground is even warm enough to allow germination, but farmers are trying to get the seed in the ground as early as possible just to catch what little moisture there is. The trees aren't even budding out yet.
The immediate neighborhood around Redvers shut their operations down yesterday to attend the funeral of a man who had farmed here all his life - he was 91 years old and had actually actively farmed with his son up until just a few years ago. Although I would have to say that Dunbar was tougher than most, his life's example of hard work and love of the land was a common denominator within his generation. As I sat in the church yesterday and looked around at the few of that generation who remained, the word "pioneer" formed in my head. But of course, these are the children of the true pioneers. They were born here and spent their entire lives tilling the soil where their parents homesteaded. Dunbar actually was born, lived, married, and raised his family all within a circle less than a mile across. He never did retire and yesterday we laid him to rest not more than a mile from home - a fitting ending for a man who loved his piece of Saskatchewan soil with all his heart.
The news is full of stories and speculation on world food shortages these days. For the poor of the world this is nothing new, but to the millions and millions who shop daily, never thinking past one or two meals, this is a wake up call. Suddenly those in the know are putting a much higher value on what farmers do.
Over the last 100 years there have been good times, and also some times so bad that only the very best, or the most stubborn men and women, stayed on the land. It is not a decision of the head that makes you stay in times like that - it's a decision made in the heart. For some farming is the lifeblood that runs through their veins, and the world is fed because of it. It is also an inherited trait - at the graduation banquet last weekend the MC had the pairs of fathers and sons who had both graduated from this course over the years stand up and be recognized. There were six or seven of these - even in a class as small as this one was - and Jesse tells us that there were three three generation sets and one four generation as well.
I do have to get out there today and get this year's "surprises" in before the sun goes down today because I have a very busy week ahead of me and today is my only reasonable window of opportunity until next weekend. I wish the wind would go down - by the first week of May everyone in Saskatchewan has had enough of the wind.
Last weekend Glen and I went in to Winnipeg to attend Jesse's graduation from the University of Manitoba. She received her diploma in Agriculture on Friday with her class of 37 other graduates - one of the smallest classes that the U of M has had in their 101 years of offering that field of study. Our son, Wayne, graduated there a few years ago with a degree in Environmental Sciences, one of hundreds of students from all different faculties to graduate the same day. The two graduations could hardly have been more different. Jesse's class was small and focussed entirely on their field of study. The speakers spoke only on agriculture, noting that the class of 2008 was this small because of the pessimism in the industry two years ago when they enrolled, and how much enrollment numbers had swollen for the next term indicating the positive outlook of crop prices now.
The farmers around here are obviously banking on a good year (well, actually, at this time of year all farmers believe that the season in front of them holds nothing but the promise of great returns. Without that hope and confidence no one would put a seed in the ground.) There wasn't much field activity last week on our journey to and from Winnipeg, but this week the tractors have certainly been stirring up dust. That's a concern - how much dust there is - we need rain and a lot of it. The weather has been cooler that normal so I'm not sure if the ground is even warm enough to allow germination, but farmers are trying to get the seed in the ground as early as possible just to catch what little moisture there is. The trees aren't even budding out yet.
The immediate neighborhood around Redvers shut their operations down yesterday to attend the funeral of a man who had farmed here all his life - he was 91 years old and had actually actively farmed with his son up until just a few years ago. Although I would have to say that Dunbar was tougher than most, his life's example of hard work and love of the land was a common denominator within his generation. As I sat in the church yesterday and looked around at the few of that generation who remained, the word "pioneer" formed in my head. But of course, these are the children of the true pioneers. They were born here and spent their entire lives tilling the soil where their parents homesteaded. Dunbar actually was born, lived, married, and raised his family all within a circle less than a mile across. He never did retire and yesterday we laid him to rest not more than a mile from home - a fitting ending for a man who loved his piece of Saskatchewan soil with all his heart.
The news is full of stories and speculation on world food shortages these days. For the poor of the world this is nothing new, but to the millions and millions who shop daily, never thinking past one or two meals, this is a wake up call. Suddenly those in the know are putting a much higher value on what farmers do.
Over the last 100 years there have been good times, and also some times so bad that only the very best, or the most stubborn men and women, stayed on the land. It is not a decision of the head that makes you stay in times like that - it's a decision made in the heart. For some farming is the lifeblood that runs through their veins, and the world is fed because of it. It is also an inherited trait - at the graduation banquet last weekend the MC had the pairs of fathers and sons who had both graduated from this course over the years stand up and be recognized. There were six or seven of these - even in a class as small as this one was - and Jesse tells us that there were three three generation sets and one four generation as well.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
DOUBLE BABIES, DOUBLE TROUBLE
Glen says that we only have about twenty cows left to calve out. The day this is all over can't happen soon enough for him - too bad that some will probably straggle on into the summer.
This spring has not been a good go. As of yesterday we are up to six sets of twins, a crazy twist of fate that Glen has decided to blame on his least favorite bull. Actually, I don't think that herd sires have much control over multiple births but he seems to need a scapegoat so Freddy is taking the fall. I don't know how he comes to this conclusion as Freddy has been with us three years now and this curse of twins has only shown up in 2008. It would be interesting if anyone out there had a more scientific hypothesis on what's going on here. Our closest neighbor with cattle is way above his average in the twin department as well. It's just weird.
Obviously, we do not consider twins as a blessing. Oh sure, if they're born easy, and Mom likes them both fine, and she has enough milk for them both, you end up with a double calf crop in the fall. The odds of all these things happening are 50 - 50 at best. Out of six sets (twelve calves) we have seven left: three live sets on their own mothers, two sets dead at birth, and one confused first time mother who decided to claim the dead one and ignored the other one. For reasons we don't even try to fathom, another cow, who already had her own two week old calf, decided that she would take this emotional orphan on. Glen wasn't there when this happened and it took him some time to piece together where this extra baby must have come from.
This past few days he has spent trying to keep another few babies from traveling on to the Promised Land. Some are just born with a low desire to live; I don't know how else to describe it. They look healthy enough but the will to get up and look for nourishment just doesn't seem to be present. It's a labor-intensive proposition, but if a farmer sticks with them through that first week, going out and tying up the mother so that she stands still, and then propping up the calf and guiding the teat into his mouth so that he sucks .... to someone who has never done this, it might look cute, and nurturing - but just try it when it's cold, and dark, and the cow doesn't want you anywhere close, and the bending over nearly kills your back muscles. It's hard work; sometimes it's worth it, and sometimes they die no matter how hard you try.
We did get eight inches of wet snow two weeks ago which was very nice for the water situation around here. The day before the storm rolled in Glen and I spent all the daylight hours trying to get all the newest cow/calf pairs moved back into the barn where they would be better protected. We won with the ones that we knew about but we lost at least one the night of the storm - just too cold and wet.
With almost all the snow gone now farmers are starting to stir around. The fields are too wet, but tractors and equipment are being hauled out to get ready for seeding. We'll be planting some grains this spring but most of our land is pasture now. Glen and our neighbor are outside shooting the breeze at the moment and I can hear them speculating on whether the grain prices will stay high for very long, and when the cattle producers can count on beef prices going back up again. I wonder if things will go back to normal when the powers that be finally realize that using food crops to make bio-fuels is one of the most un-environmentally friendly things that they could think of to do. When it takes almost a gallon of fuel to make a gallon of fuel, simple math should be enough to show them that it just isn't going to work.
I guess I should get my implements out too. The yard needs cleaning up, and the sunshine feels lovely on my skin - time to get to work.
This spring has not been a good go. As of yesterday we are up to six sets of twins, a crazy twist of fate that Glen has decided to blame on his least favorite bull. Actually, I don't think that herd sires have much control over multiple births but he seems to need a scapegoat so Freddy is taking the fall. I don't know how he comes to this conclusion as Freddy has been with us three years now and this curse of twins has only shown up in 2008. It would be interesting if anyone out there had a more scientific hypothesis on what's going on here. Our closest neighbor with cattle is way above his average in the twin department as well. It's just weird.
Obviously, we do not consider twins as a blessing. Oh sure, if they're born easy, and Mom likes them both fine, and she has enough milk for them both, you end up with a double calf crop in the fall. The odds of all these things happening are 50 - 50 at best. Out of six sets (twelve calves) we have seven left: three live sets on their own mothers, two sets dead at birth, and one confused first time mother who decided to claim the dead one and ignored the other one. For reasons we don't even try to fathom, another cow, who already had her own two week old calf, decided that she would take this emotional orphan on. Glen wasn't there when this happened and it took him some time to piece together where this extra baby must have come from.
This past few days he has spent trying to keep another few babies from traveling on to the Promised Land. Some are just born with a low desire to live; I don't know how else to describe it. They look healthy enough but the will to get up and look for nourishment just doesn't seem to be present. It's a labor-intensive proposition, but if a farmer sticks with them through that first week, going out and tying up the mother so that she stands still, and then propping up the calf and guiding the teat into his mouth so that he sucks .... to someone who has never done this, it might look cute, and nurturing - but just try it when it's cold, and dark, and the cow doesn't want you anywhere close, and the bending over nearly kills your back muscles. It's hard work; sometimes it's worth it, and sometimes they die no matter how hard you try.
We did get eight inches of wet snow two weeks ago which was very nice for the water situation around here. The day before the storm rolled in Glen and I spent all the daylight hours trying to get all the newest cow/calf pairs moved back into the barn where they would be better protected. We won with the ones that we knew about but we lost at least one the night of the storm - just too cold and wet.
With almost all the snow gone now farmers are starting to stir around. The fields are too wet, but tractors and equipment are being hauled out to get ready for seeding. We'll be planting some grains this spring but most of our land is pasture now. Glen and our neighbor are outside shooting the breeze at the moment and I can hear them speculating on whether the grain prices will stay high for very long, and when the cattle producers can count on beef prices going back up again. I wonder if things will go back to normal when the powers that be finally realize that using food crops to make bio-fuels is one of the most un-environmentally friendly things that they could think of to do. When it takes almost a gallon of fuel to make a gallon of fuel, simple math should be enough to show them that it just isn't going to work.
I guess I should get my implements out too. The yard needs cleaning up, and the sunshine feels lovely on my skin - time to get to work.
Monday, March 24, 2008
NOT SO LUCKY THIS TIME
It's spring in Saskatchewan - the wind is howling in from the west and what snow we have is disappearing fast under the combined power of sun and warm winds. I hung clothes out on the line to dry today - that's a rite of spring for sure - and when I went out to bring them in later on in the afternoon I heard a Meadow Lark singing. There is sleet coming down tonight, but the prairie people know - the worst is behind us now.
Not that we wouldn't love at least a foot of wet, heavy snow before the final melt. It's only with snow melt and runoff that we will fill up the dugouts. They are pretty low already after a dry fall last year, and if the spring runoff doesn't fill them up now, it's going to take a lot of rain to bring the water table up to replenish them through the summer. Something that's not liable to happen in this neck of the woods.
We spent the afternoon out trying to fill up the bale feeders and spread straw for bedding before the ground gets too muddy for the tractor to be able to move the bales around. It rained and snowed all day Good Friday so Glen has already had to go out and give the open shed extra bedding to keep the little calves warm and dry - we don't want to lose any of them to pneumonia, we're having bad enough luck with this year's new babies as it is.
This will not go down in history as a good calving spring - although we are hoping that the worst is behind us now. So far we have lost two cows and seven calves and we can only blame one of those losses on a coyote; all the rest were physical problems with birthing. The two cows had such hard times that they prolapsed their uteruses. It never should have happened but we weren't expecting any babies for another two weeks. We're not really sure why, but a lot of our neighbors have reported the same thing - that their cows are early this year. Does a really cold winter stress them into shortening their gestation? Who knows, but by the time we clued into their revised timetable, we had lost two cows and their calves.
The next biggest problem is that the first to calve are our heifers - first time mothers. Last year not one of them had any problems and this year it seems like they all are. They are not too sure what's going on, or how to take care of the little darlings once they're born - hence the coyote treating himself to an uninvited breakfast.
Yesterday was the worst though. We had been away the day before so the evening check was done in the dark. Glen saw that there was one Mama starting to calve but thought she was an older cow and left her to do her own thing. Come morning he discovered that it was a heifer and that she certainly needed help if she hadn't got anywhere on her own in 10 hours. We caught her, tied her up, and Glen investigated to see what the trouble was. It was a complete breach - they are supposed to come front feet first, right side up, with the noses laying on their knees. All Glen could feel was the tail so he had to work the back feet out, attach the puller and we delivered a dead calf. Poor little guy had been too long without oxygen. We left the mother to recooperate and went back to the house. A few hours later Glen returned to find her still in labor - here it had been twins all along, which would have been a contributing factor to why the first baby was backwards - but we never even thought of it. We helped the poor thing with the second delivery but it was dead too. Could we have saved it if we had known it was there? Who knows, but we sure weren't feeling very competent by this stage of the game.
We decided that we were going to skip Easter dinner at my sister's place and stay home to intervene in one more heifer birth. It didn't seem to be a big deal - she was just taking a little too long and we were pretty gun shy by this time. There's no explaining what went wrong with her - the calf wasn't overly big, she had only shown signs of labor for a short while, and baby was pointed the right direction, but it was just as dead as the other two. What a sad, frustrating day! As we were cleaning up after this last episode Glen turned to me and said "I'm going for a drink! How about you?" Glen is not a drinker; I didn't quite know what to make of that.
What he meant was enough was enough - let's head into town and visit with the relatives after all. I was glad we did - at least the day ended with good company and dessert. It sure as heck beat staying home and going over and over the "what if's" all night.
There is at least one bright spot in this calving season so far - I wish this picture was a little brighter, but you can see that we do have one set of twins - alive and enjoying life. Hopefully everybody born from now on will follow suit.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
JUST PLAIN LUCKY
I hadn't realized that I hadn't put a footnote onto my last entry announcing the happy news that we had solved our water problems. After a mere two days of hauling water to the feeders Glen decided that he had nothing to lose if he should take a few old flax straw bales down to the dugout, position them over where the pipes are and set the straw on fire. If the heat actually made its way down into the ground and thawed the pipes out he would be the happiest farmer in the country, if it didn't he was out a few old, crumbling bales.
It was kind of tricky getting the bales to where they needed to be - he even had to drive the tractor (weighed down with the extra 1200 pounds of bale) out on the ice of the dugout to position it on the bank where the heat was needed. I didn't go down to watch that operation - I'm a scaredy-cat - but I kept telling myself that with the intense cold we've had this winter, surely the ice was a foot thick, at least. He burned the first two during the day, put two more down there to burn through the night and called me the next morning when I was at work to announce that it had worked and we had water again!
Then he went back down to the dugout, kicked all the smoldering straw away until he was sure that the fire was out and spread some more straw on top to act as insulation for the pipes for the rest of the winter. He acted a little too quickly, though. The wind picked up, unseen sparks were fanned to flames, and just for a little extra insurance those bales burnt as well. The whole area is now covered with straw and everything seems to be fine. I know we talked about doing that last winter, but we didn't give it a try. I asked Glen why that was, and he said "Someone told me it wouldn't work." Glad we didn't rely on that advice two years in a row.
The sun is shining bright this afternoon, and the sky above is a brilliant blue, but horizontally speaking, you can't see a thing. We received a few inches of snow late last week and Mother Nature has been blowing it around ever since. The wind came up last night and it's been howling around the house all day long. The yard was a little hard to get out of this morning when I went in to church, and harder still to get through the snow banks when I came back home. I almost side-swiped the gate sign on the way in - that would have been a pity! I've told Glen he'll be clearing a path for me so I can go to work tomorrow morning but there is no use to do anything now - it would just blow back in again.
There seems to be a general countdown going on these days as to how many days there are left before spring. I don't think there is an area of Canada that doesn't feel like enough is enough this year. I sat down and filled out my seed and nursery order yesterday - it's just time to think about things that are green. I also have to get planning what will go where to spiff the place up with Jesse and Andrew's wedding coming closer every day. It's just been this past week or so that I've begun to get excited about seeing everyone who will be coming to help us celebrate.
It was kind of tricky getting the bales to where they needed to be - he even had to drive the tractor (weighed down with the extra 1200 pounds of bale) out on the ice of the dugout to position it on the bank where the heat was needed. I didn't go down to watch that operation - I'm a scaredy-cat - but I kept telling myself that with the intense cold we've had this winter, surely the ice was a foot thick, at least. He burned the first two during the day, put two more down there to burn through the night and called me the next morning when I was at work to announce that it had worked and we had water again!
Then he went back down to the dugout, kicked all the smoldering straw away until he was sure that the fire was out and spread some more straw on top to act as insulation for the pipes for the rest of the winter. He acted a little too quickly, though. The wind picked up, unseen sparks were fanned to flames, and just for a little extra insurance those bales burnt as well. The whole area is now covered with straw and everything seems to be fine. I know we talked about doing that last winter, but we didn't give it a try. I asked Glen why that was, and he said "Someone told me it wouldn't work." Glad we didn't rely on that advice two years in a row.
The sun is shining bright this afternoon, and the sky above is a brilliant blue, but horizontally speaking, you can't see a thing. We received a few inches of snow late last week and Mother Nature has been blowing it around ever since. The wind came up last night and it's been howling around the house all day long. The yard was a little hard to get out of this morning when I went in to church, and harder still to get through the snow banks when I came back home. I almost side-swiped the gate sign on the way in - that would have been a pity! I've told Glen he'll be clearing a path for me so I can go to work tomorrow morning but there is no use to do anything now - it would just blow back in again.
There seems to be a general countdown going on these days as to how many days there are left before spring. I don't think there is an area of Canada that doesn't feel like enough is enough this year. I sat down and filled out my seed and nursery order yesterday - it's just time to think about things that are green. I also have to get planning what will go where to spiff the place up with Jesse and Andrew's wedding coming closer every day. It's just been this past week or so that I've begun to get excited about seeing everyone who will be coming to help us celebrate.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
baby, it's cccccold out there!
Do you want to know how cold it is on the prairies at the moment? Do you really? I don’t really think I can do it justice, but here goes ...
First of all, I’m writing this blog on WordPerfect because, at the moment, I have no access to the Internet. Why? You ask. Well, that would be because with the high winds we had last week - along with the minus 50 windchills - it has vibrated my satellite dish loose enough on the tower that it’s installed on so that it can’t pick up the signal. For a few days the service was intermittent as it wasn’t completely shook loose, so we blamed the service provider and their tower that was experiencing it’s own set of problems, but when they had their end fixed up, and I was completely off access, one of their telephone techies and I finally figured out now the problem was at my end. Unfortunately, by that time the few reasonable days we had were over and the deep freeze was back - riding on high winds. I feel totally disconnected from the world at the moment and hope that it’s fixed by Tuesday night - when the next blizzard is supposed to roll in. For some reason you can’t get someone to climb a sixty foot antenna to adjust a satellite dish at forty below and 50 km/p/h winds. Even if you beg.
So, to keep from going shack wacky, we’ve been keeping ourselves busy trying to keep ahead of the cows in the feed department. At temperatures like this they eat to live. The actual definition of the word calorie is a measuring unit for heat - take away all the diet jargon and that’s what you get - when we eat we take in calories and if we don’t want them as permanent poundage on our hips, we have to burn them off - in heat. Our cows, at forty below zero, are not worried about their figures. Their survival depends on eating and they’ve been doing a fine job of it.
As if that wasn’t enough to keep us out of trouble, Friday night we discovered that the water system from the dugout to the barns was froze up. Again. Just like last year. There was a period of denial - that it had to be a simpler thing to fix - but we both knew in our hearts that we were only dreaming. We didn’t have a whole lot of time to mope about it; Saturday morning out came the big trough, the heating element, the tank on the truck ... and we commenced hauling water for about 110 animals. The wind was vicious so we did the absolutely necessary jobs and hoped Sunday would be better.
All you could say about Sunday was that the wind was down to just a light breeze, but the temperatures were no better. I helped Glen with the chores and then went inside - I have a good, warm ski-doo suit but my face is exposed and I think I’ve come pretty close to freezing my cheeks. They sure burn when I’m outside. Glen did his chores in four different stints, coming in to thaw out every once in a while. He fed nine hay bales and put six new straw bales out for fresh bedding. He also put some old, rotted flax straw bales down where we think the line is frozen. Maybe, if we can keep a fire going there long enough, the heat will work its way down through the frost and the line will thaw out for us.
What makes this even harder to take is that maybe we could have used our experience from last winter to stop it from happening this year. The problem is that the pipe drawing water from the dugout isn’t buried deep enough where it inters the water. On the years where the water level was higher the water covered it, but last winter, and this one, there just isn’t enough to do the job. So why didn’t we pump water from the south dugout into this one last fall? I sure can’t think of a good reason right now. And Glen is kicking himself for not going down and covering the whole area with old bales and straw to keep the frost out. Again, hind sight is 20/20. He’s threatening to up and sell the whole calf crop, but at the age and weight they are at the moment that would be like giving them all away. I think, unless we have a miracle, we will be hauling water twice a day until the snow melts.
With all the rearranging we had to do at the barn so that the different pens of animals could get to the water, two of the bulls ended up where I can see them from the house. Bulls have more testosterone than they know what to do with and usually expend it fighting with other bulls. I looked out this morning and there they were just bull-dozing each other. They were so worked up that at 40 some below zero, they had fought themselves into a sweat, and steam rolled off their backs and formed frost on their coats. I wish I had a closer picture, but I wasn’t crossing the fence to get it.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
ELVIS AND MARILYN
It has finally warmed up a bit out there - we've been in a deep freeze for so long we're almost used to the feeling of ice crystals taking over our chest cavities when we're outside. A wind chill factor of below forty is not a good thing.
It has been a busy week at work for Glen. He spent last Sunday feeding and bedding down all the animals on the place, but when it is as cold as it has been, they go through a lot of feed. By last night the cows had to have eight more bales but he didn't have the day off to do the job. We had a quick supper after work and I went out to help him do the chores - two people at the job might not cut the time in half, but it sure does help.
The bales are not all stored in the same place, and this year none of them are in the yard. He has the green feed bales across the road, south of the house and the hay is a quarter of a mile east of the yard. It might not be all that handy, but if there ever was a fire that got away on us, we wouldn't lose the whole year's feed, either. Going to fetch the bales into the yard is the most time consuming part of the job, so while he did that, I filled the oat pails for his early morning chores and carried them over to the gate where he needs them.
Last year we cut the strings off the bales right out at the feeders. He may be comfortable out there in the dark, amongst the animals, but I can't say that I like it much. It's not that any one animal decides to knock you over (after all, you're feeding them and they like that), but what does happen is they get shoving each other around to get the best feeding spot, and the puny little human at the end of a bovine chain reaction collision doesn't stand a chance of not getting squashed. This winter Glen has decided that it's easier to bring the bales into the yard, set them down under the yardlight, and take the strings off where you can see what you're doing. This is about 1,000% better in his wife's books. The only animal keeping me company last night was a little border collie who was happy with an occasional scratch behind his ear.
We were out working under the stars for about two hours. It started out pretty chilly, but once you build up a bit of a sweat with the work, you warm right up. It had been foggy the night before, and then snowed big feathery flakes for most of the day. Everything was decorated in fluffy and white - the walk up to the house was gorgeous, the maple just east of the garage almost glowing white under it's covering of snow.
Today I've done the usual Saturday work plus getting ready for an evening out with girl friends. The Redvers Activity Center does an annual Ladies Night Out fund raiser - and this year's theme is to come dressed in the fashions of the year that you were born. I was having trouble coming up with something suitable but in Googling the year in question, I came up with the idea to go as Elvis, who cut his first record that year. I'm almost ready to head in to town; my hair is slicked back, I'm all studied up on Elvis trivia, and my suit is in at my friend's place (that would be Marilyn Munroe). I'm doing the young Elvis so, no, it's not a sparkling jumpsuit. I also reek of aftershave lotion. Going as a man, I thought I needed that touch - but I think maybe I got carried away with the stuff. I wish I had a guitar - but then, people would want me to play it. That's one of the reasons I don't have a guitar in the first place - I can't play.
Hopefully everyone gets into the spirit of the evening - it's going to be a lot of fun.
It has been a busy week at work for Glen. He spent last Sunday feeding and bedding down all the animals on the place, but when it is as cold as it has been, they go through a lot of feed. By last night the cows had to have eight more bales but he didn't have the day off to do the job. We had a quick supper after work and I went out to help him do the chores - two people at the job might not cut the time in half, but it sure does help.
The bales are not all stored in the same place, and this year none of them are in the yard. He has the green feed bales across the road, south of the house and the hay is a quarter of a mile east of the yard. It might not be all that handy, but if there ever was a fire that got away on us, we wouldn't lose the whole year's feed, either. Going to fetch the bales into the yard is the most time consuming part of the job, so while he did that, I filled the oat pails for his early morning chores and carried them over to the gate where he needs them.
Last year we cut the strings off the bales right out at the feeders. He may be comfortable out there in the dark, amongst the animals, but I can't say that I like it much. It's not that any one animal decides to knock you over (after all, you're feeding them and they like that), but what does happen is they get shoving each other around to get the best feeding spot, and the puny little human at the end of a bovine chain reaction collision doesn't stand a chance of not getting squashed. This winter Glen has decided that it's easier to bring the bales into the yard, set them down under the yardlight, and take the strings off where you can see what you're doing. This is about 1,000% better in his wife's books. The only animal keeping me company last night was a little border collie who was happy with an occasional scratch behind his ear.
We were out working under the stars for about two hours. It started out pretty chilly, but once you build up a bit of a sweat with the work, you warm right up. It had been foggy the night before, and then snowed big feathery flakes for most of the day. Everything was decorated in fluffy and white - the walk up to the house was gorgeous, the maple just east of the garage almost glowing white under it's covering of snow.
Today I've done the usual Saturday work plus getting ready for an evening out with girl friends. The Redvers Activity Center does an annual Ladies Night Out fund raiser - and this year's theme is to come dressed in the fashions of the year that you were born. I was having trouble coming up with something suitable but in Googling the year in question, I came up with the idea to go as Elvis, who cut his first record that year. I'm almost ready to head in to town; my hair is slicked back, I'm all studied up on Elvis trivia, and my suit is in at my friend's place (that would be Marilyn Munroe). I'm doing the young Elvis so, no, it's not a sparkling jumpsuit. I also reek of aftershave lotion. Going as a man, I thought I needed that touch - but I think maybe I got carried away with the stuff. I wish I had a guitar - but then, people would want me to play it. That's one of the reasons I don't have a guitar in the first place - I can't play.
Hopefully everyone gets into the spirit of the evening - it's going to be a lot of fun.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
BACK TO NORMAL
Finally, a normal Saturday morning. And a beautiful one, at that! Glen is off to work this morning - the oil patch is up and running again after the break they take over the holidays. He hasn't been called in too much yet and that has been good as he has a lot of chores to do around here.
Now that we finally have the 2007 calf crop weaned the chores doubled as the adult herd has to be fed one place and the juveniles are somewhere else. The cows are easy to feed as they have the rest of the standing corn to finish off and their bale feeders are all spread out and easy to access with the tractor. The young ones are a different story. They are in the red barn pen. This gives them extra shelter from the weather, access to lots of water, and a big feeding of oats every morning and night. What it isn't is spacious. They are not crowded, but when Glen pulls in with the tractor to feed bales or spread straw for bedding, there is not a lot of room to maneuver- it's not a job that's easy to do after work in the dark. To add to the situation, these young animals are just kids and think everything is a game. With the slightest stimuli (the tractor does it for them) they race around the pen like a bunch of elementary students at recess. Glen has never run over one of them, but I really don't know how he has managed it.
He fed them their pails of oats before he left this morning, but I had said that I would do the rest of the chores. This means bottle feeding our orphan, Charlie, and carrying pails of chop to the feeders. I also filled the 18 pails of oats for the night feeding. I haven't ventured into the pen with the freshly weaned calves yet. If the tractor gets them excited, you should see what they do when Glen walks in with food! Eventually they will settle down - until then I will stay away. I have this theory that a broken leg from a 300 pound calf kicking up its heels in fun is going to hurt every bit as bad as a kick from an angry animal. They are more used to Glen's scent and aren't quite as crazy when he's in the pen as when there are strangers nearby.
So, with barn chores done, I'm back to the housewife duties I tend to every week. I also dug out our humidifier and filled it up. I know that a trip to the tropics works wonders on dry Canadian winter skin, but if you can't go to the moisture, then the moisture will have to come to us!
Now that we finally have the 2007 calf crop weaned the chores doubled as the adult herd has to be fed one place and the juveniles are somewhere else. The cows are easy to feed as they have the rest of the standing corn to finish off and their bale feeders are all spread out and easy to access with the tractor. The young ones are a different story. They are in the red barn pen. This gives them extra shelter from the weather, access to lots of water, and a big feeding of oats every morning and night. What it isn't is spacious. They are not crowded, but when Glen pulls in with the tractor to feed bales or spread straw for bedding, there is not a lot of room to maneuver- it's not a job that's easy to do after work in the dark. To add to the situation, these young animals are just kids and think everything is a game. With the slightest stimuli (the tractor does it for them) they race around the pen like a bunch of elementary students at recess. Glen has never run over one of them, but I really don't know how he has managed it.
He fed them their pails of oats before he left this morning, but I had said that I would do the rest of the chores. This means bottle feeding our orphan, Charlie, and carrying pails of chop to the feeders. I also filled the 18 pails of oats for the night feeding. I haven't ventured into the pen with the freshly weaned calves yet. If the tractor gets them excited, you should see what they do when Glen walks in with food! Eventually they will settle down - until then I will stay away. I have this theory that a broken leg from a 300 pound calf kicking up its heels in fun is going to hurt every bit as bad as a kick from an angry animal. They are more used to Glen's scent and aren't quite as crazy when he's in the pen as when there are strangers nearby.
So, with barn chores done, I'm back to the housewife duties I tend to every week. I also dug out our humidifier and filled it up. I know that a trip to the tropics works wonders on dry Canadian winter skin, but if you can't go to the moisture, then the moisture will have to come to us!
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