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!
Saturday, August 30, 2008
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!
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
NOW ALL WE HAVE TO DO IS PAY YHE BILLS
Well, the turkey bones are in the soup pot, and there is a slow cooker brewing up a stroganoff for supper to give us all a break from all the traditional fare we've been consuming for the past three days. We are also down to only three people in the house this afternoon, which is very restful after twenty-two people for supper on Christmas Eve, and six plus a two year old for the rest of the time. Our nephew, Cole, kept everyone on their toes but he and his mommy left early this morning. They had a long drive ahead of them and Cole had decided that sitting in a car seat for that long on the way down was way too long for his liking.
I took Christmas Eve day off as I was holding the family feast here so I've had almost a whole week away from work. I seem to be a loose ends this afternoon - does that mean I'm ready to go back now? Or is it a case of just wanting things to get back to normal? I should probably go out for a very long walk to shed some of the calories I've taken in over the past week.
I'm going to figure out how to post a photo on this blog today. The kids and I gave Glen a yard sign for Christmas this year. Quite some time ago he and Jesse decided that the farm should be called "Skull Ranch". I don't know how serious they were at the time, but because I didn't care for it at all, they made a big fuss about how much they just loved it. It became a standing joke and over time they have worn me down. A couple years ago Glen even had T-shirts made up with his personal logo (really personal, it's his tattoo) so I decided that the time had come to put it on the yard sign too. We installed it over another sign that Jesse painted years ago to welcome our Australian in-laws to Canada. I think all the neighbours had finally all figured that one out (it was painted up-side-down because they were from the "land down under"). They "got it" right away, but I think it took the local Canadians much longer. I wonder what they'll think of this new sign? I think it's our job to keep everyone entertained.
We still haven't got our calves weaned. I was feeling like we were really falling behind this year, but brother-in-law Maurice told us the other night that he had just managed to get his done the week before. Glen says that we're doing it this week for sure. I think he has that job scheduled for tomorrow with both Sandy and Jesse here to help, and maybe Mitchell if he doesn't have to work. That means we'd better enjoy our night's sleep tonight because it sure can get noisy for a couple of days - and nights - until they are all used to the idea that the mamas and calves can still see each other, but there is no more milk. As the cows are well along into their next pregnancy, it's time that last year's calves were on their own.
This time last year, we were getting ready for our trip to sunny Mexico but this year it's just a case of back to the grindstone. 2008 will shape up as a bit of a different year as we plan for Jesse and Andrew's wedding this fall.
I took Christmas Eve day off as I was holding the family feast here so I've had almost a whole week away from work. I seem to be a loose ends this afternoon - does that mean I'm ready to go back now? Or is it a case of just wanting things to get back to normal? I should probably go out for a very long walk to shed some of the calories I've taken in over the past week.
I'm going to figure out how to post a photo on this blog today. The kids and I gave Glen a yard sign for Christmas this year. Quite some time ago he and Jesse decided that the farm should be called "Skull Ranch". I don't know how serious they were at the time, but because I didn't care for it at all, they made a big fuss about how much they just loved it. It became a standing joke and over time they have worn me down. A couple years ago Glen even had T-shirts made up with his personal logo (really personal, it's his tattoo) so I decided that the time had come to put it on the yard sign too. We installed it over another sign that Jesse painted years ago to welcome our Australian in-laws to Canada. I think all the neighbours had finally all figured that one out (it was painted up-side-down because they were from the "land down under"). They "got it" right away, but I think it took the local Canadians much longer. I wonder what they'll think of this new sign? I think it's our job to keep everyone entertained.
We still haven't got our calves weaned. I was feeling like we were really falling behind this year, but brother-in-law Maurice told us the other night that he had just managed to get his done the week before. Glen says that we're doing it this week for sure. I think he has that job scheduled for tomorrow with both Sandy and Jesse here to help, and maybe Mitchell if he doesn't have to work. That means we'd better enjoy our night's sleep tonight because it sure can get noisy for a couple of days - and nights - until they are all used to the idea that the mamas and calves can still see each other, but there is no more milk. As the cows are well along into their next pregnancy, it's time that last year's calves were on their own.
This time last year, we were getting ready for our trip to sunny Mexico but this year it's just a case of back to the grindstone. 2008 will shape up as a bit of a different year as we plan for Jesse and Andrew's wedding this fall.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
CHRISTMAS IS A COMIN'
It's not quite as cold out there as it has been this past week or so. Man- has it been miserable! Funny how Environment Canada didn't have anything to say about the coming winter until the North Pole blew south - then, all of a sudden it was "we told you so." and "get ready for more of this." It's pretty hard to believe in this thing called Global Warming when you freeze solid if you stand still for two minutes.
We now have over two hundred animals out in the pasture behind the house. This is where Glen planted his corn this year and he's just let them into their first parcel of it. It is really neat to watch them eat it - first they break off the corn cobs, drop them to the ground and break off a chunk at a time (usually three pieces per cob) until they are all gone. Then they turn their attention to the leaves, and then the stocks. By the time they are finished, the field is neatly cleaned off, and they are gazing longingly across the electric wire at the next batch.
Glen is feeding them bales of hay as well, and every morning he goes out and chops a hole in the dugout ice for them to drink. We are hoping that in the next week (or so - there just aren't enough hours in the days to get everything done) we will be getting the cows and calves separated and the calves weaned. Then it will be easier to arrange a watering bowl for each half of the herd. Chopping the dugout is hard work, and not necessarily the safest - for man or beast.
My life has picked up speed lately - I am a postal worker, after all. This is the busiest (and happiest) time of the year, and even though I come home pretty darned tired, it's a happy kind of tired. We get to deliver the things that people are waiting for, and help them with their surprises for their families. It's all good.
Of course, when I get home from that job, I have to start on trying to get everything ready and under control in this house! I have spent the day doing my cards and letters, doing some baking, and wrapping some gifts. I can't see the tree going up until next weekend and there is a carpenter coming to replace the counter top in my kitchen at mid week. I guess that means we'll be camping out of the bathroom sink for dishes for a few days. Why didn't I think of this before it was going to affect Christmas? Who knows? But it will all come together. It had better - Glen and I are holding the big meal for my side of the family.
We now have over two hundred animals out in the pasture behind the house. This is where Glen planted his corn this year and he's just let them into their first parcel of it. It is really neat to watch them eat it - first they break off the corn cobs, drop them to the ground and break off a chunk at a time (usually three pieces per cob) until they are all gone. Then they turn their attention to the leaves, and then the stocks. By the time they are finished, the field is neatly cleaned off, and they are gazing longingly across the electric wire at the next batch.
Glen is feeding them bales of hay as well, and every morning he goes out and chops a hole in the dugout ice for them to drink. We are hoping that in the next week (or so - there just aren't enough hours in the days to get everything done) we will be getting the cows and calves separated and the calves weaned. Then it will be easier to arrange a watering bowl for each half of the herd. Chopping the dugout is hard work, and not necessarily the safest - for man or beast.
My life has picked up speed lately - I am a postal worker, after all. This is the busiest (and happiest) time of the year, and even though I come home pretty darned tired, it's a happy kind of tired. We get to deliver the things that people are waiting for, and help them with their surprises for their families. It's all good.
Of course, when I get home from that job, I have to start on trying to get everything ready and under control in this house! I have spent the day doing my cards and letters, doing some baking, and wrapping some gifts. I can't see the tree going up until next weekend and there is a carpenter coming to replace the counter top in my kitchen at mid week. I guess that means we'll be camping out of the bathroom sink for dishes for a few days. Why didn't I think of this before it was going to affect Christmas? Who knows? But it will all come together. It had better - Glen and I are holding the big meal for my side of the family.
Friday, November 16, 2007
JUST FOR FUN
I've been writing this blog for a few years now, but I don't think I've ever mentioned that I also write a human interest (mostly humor) column for the local weekly newspaper as well. They do pay me, but mostly I do it because it's fun and my "fans" get such a kick out life as it happens out on our farm. This week's column seems to have hit the collective funny bone pretty hard so I thought I'd post it for a change. Hope you all enjoy it too ....
THE RESURRECTION COW
By Jocelyn Hainsworth
We are relatively new at this “raising cattle for profit” game - so new in fact that it’s only slowly beginning to dawn on me that maybe the “profit” part of it doesn’t happen all that often. What I have come to understand, though, is that cows eat a lot, and they drink a lot (especially when the water lines freeze up and we have to haul water at forty below zero).
They also fertilize quite a bit. I know this to be true because I just spent my stat holiday hauling huge amounts of this organic type of fertilizer from where they thoughtlessly left it in the barn, out onto the field where it’s going to do us some good.
And then there’s their health care bill. They have hoof problems, and eye problems, and get lumps in their mouths from something they ate. We’ve had cases of pneumonia, calves with scours, and something quaintly referred to as wooden tongue. Our bulls like to feel special (because, being male, they think they’re worth more) so they break their toe nails for the extra attention it gets them. To keep them from having more troubles with their health, we also invest in inoculations for the calf crop and preventative treatments against lice to keep them from scratching themselves bald. Cows are not cheap pets.
But, this past few weeks, I’ve begun to wonder if we don’t know all there is to know about bovine life. I think at least one of our neighbors has a secret formula that we are not aware of - one that can bring a cow back from the dead. Over and over and over again.
It is most fascinating. I can drive to work in the morning and this animal will be laid right out on her side, feet sticking straight out in front of her, head back - one deceased cow, if I’ve even seen one (and I have seen one or two in my time). BUT, later on, on my way home, I will witness her re-birth as a living, eating cow. The next day she might be up eating when I go to town and dead when I get home, but my point is, she is both dead, and alive, on the same day. Day after day. None of our dead cows have ever done that.
Our dead cows tend to stay dead. And thanks to our dogs, the evidence is all over our front lawn. Proud trophy bones, dragged back from the pasture in broad daylight (so that the coyotes don’t them - the dogs, I mean, not the bones) and set in front of the house in defiance of any wild critter coming to re-claim them with humans so close.
I gaze out on those bones and think about the story of the valley of bones in Ezekiel in the bible. Remember, how those dry, white bones were called together and how they fleshed up and came to life again? I wonder how far gone the resurrection cow was before she was put back on her feet and her feed? Out here in coyote country, I don’t think you have to lie still for too long before somebody thinks of you as dinner.
And I wonder how the resuscitation takes place? Is it a magic formula? Do you give it by injection? Does it come in powder form and it is sprinkled over the body like pixie dust? Is it like a voodoo ceremony, with smoke and chants and magic words? Or, is it more scientific, and all that is needed is a good old jolt from an electric fencer?
We obviously have a lot to learn here, and I know which neighbor I want to give the lessons.
THE RESURRECTION COW
By Jocelyn Hainsworth
We are relatively new at this “raising cattle for profit” game - so new in fact that it’s only slowly beginning to dawn on me that maybe the “profit” part of it doesn’t happen all that often. What I have come to understand, though, is that cows eat a lot, and they drink a lot (especially when the water lines freeze up and we have to haul water at forty below zero).
They also fertilize quite a bit. I know this to be true because I just spent my stat holiday hauling huge amounts of this organic type of fertilizer from where they thoughtlessly left it in the barn, out onto the field where it’s going to do us some good.
And then there’s their health care bill. They have hoof problems, and eye problems, and get lumps in their mouths from something they ate. We’ve had cases of pneumonia, calves with scours, and something quaintly referred to as wooden tongue. Our bulls like to feel special (because, being male, they think they’re worth more) so they break their toe nails for the extra attention it gets them. To keep them from having more troubles with their health, we also invest in inoculations for the calf crop and preventative treatments against lice to keep them from scratching themselves bald. Cows are not cheap pets.
But, this past few weeks, I’ve begun to wonder if we don’t know all there is to know about bovine life. I think at least one of our neighbors has a secret formula that we are not aware of - one that can bring a cow back from the dead. Over and over and over again.
It is most fascinating. I can drive to work in the morning and this animal will be laid right out on her side, feet sticking straight out in front of her, head back - one deceased cow, if I’ve even seen one (and I have seen one or two in my time). BUT, later on, on my way home, I will witness her re-birth as a living, eating cow. The next day she might be up eating when I go to town and dead when I get home, but my point is, she is both dead, and alive, on the same day. Day after day. None of our dead cows have ever done that.
Our dead cows tend to stay dead. And thanks to our dogs, the evidence is all over our front lawn. Proud trophy bones, dragged back from the pasture in broad daylight (so that the coyotes don’t them - the dogs, I mean, not the bones) and set in front of the house in defiance of any wild critter coming to re-claim them with humans so close.
I gaze out on those bones and think about the story of the valley of bones in Ezekiel in the bible. Remember, how those dry, white bones were called together and how they fleshed up and came to life again? I wonder how far gone the resurrection cow was before she was put back on her feet and her feed? Out here in coyote country, I don’t think you have to lie still for too long before somebody thinks of you as dinner.
And I wonder how the resuscitation takes place? Is it a magic formula? Do you give it by injection? Does it come in powder form and it is sprinkled over the body like pixie dust? Is it like a voodoo ceremony, with smoke and chants and magic words? Or, is it more scientific, and all that is needed is a good old jolt from an electric fencer?
We obviously have a lot to learn here, and I know which neighbor I want to give the lessons.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
FALL WORK AND FOWL SUPPERS
It looks nicer outside today than it really is. Not that I've checked it out for myself - Glen informed me of the nippy temperatures when he came in from feeding Charlie (the latest in a long line of bottle-fed calves). I guess it is almost November, we should be thankful that we don't have snow yet.
I spent yesterday afternoon (the morning was too frosty and cold) outside finishing up what yard work needed to be done. At last the potatos have all been dug and carried in, as well as the last six feet of the carrot row. I'll finish cleaning out the cold room downstairs and get Glen to haul all the heavy bags down when he gets home from work tonight. I've also got the tarps we used to cover the tomatoes during the early frosts all folded and ready to be put away. I tried to get the tiller to start so I could put that away, but it outweighs me by quite a lot - it won that round. I'll leave that job for the he-man of the family.
Last weekend we brought all the cattle in and ran them through the chutes. They all had to be sprayed with a de-louser (we do it every fall - it saves them a lot of misery through the winter) and the calves had to have their innoculations. The girls were home from university to help so the whole operation went pretty smoothly, but it still took the whole day. It just so happened that we had tickets to the annual health foundation fundraiser that night and we were even done in time to take in the meal and dinner theatre - although, after all that fresh air and exercise, it would have been pretty easy to doze off after the meal. Glen has arranged that we will be boarding another 40 cows and 40 feeders through this winter, so when they arrive we'll have to treat them all too. I don't know that there are enough hours in the day to get all the work done, but Glen seems to think we can do it. I'm going to have to sit him down and try to explain the concept of semi-retirement to him again. He's just not getting it.
He is talking about maybe spending a day or two in the states pricing out vehicles. My car is ready for a trade and he wants to see for himself all the pros and cons of buying with Canadian dollars on the other side of the border. For sure you have to look at more than just the price tag, but at first glance the savings on some vehicles are substantial. I just think it will be a great way to have a short holiday away and maybe I can get some Christmas shopping done as well.
With Glen off to work again today, I have plans to get some baking done, some house cleaning, and maybe a last few things done outside. I've already warned him that I plan to invite myself along with my sisters and their husbands to take in a fowl supper tonight. I love the community feel of a fowl supper (and the food is great too) and Glen really would rather have a plate of stew at home - so be it - we'll each get what we want.
I spent yesterday afternoon (the morning was too frosty and cold) outside finishing up what yard work needed to be done. At last the potatos have all been dug and carried in, as well as the last six feet of the carrot row. I'll finish cleaning out the cold room downstairs and get Glen to haul all the heavy bags down when he gets home from work tonight. I've also got the tarps we used to cover the tomatoes during the early frosts all folded and ready to be put away. I tried to get the tiller to start so I could put that away, but it outweighs me by quite a lot - it won that round. I'll leave that job for the he-man of the family.
Last weekend we brought all the cattle in and ran them through the chutes. They all had to be sprayed with a de-louser (we do it every fall - it saves them a lot of misery through the winter) and the calves had to have their innoculations. The girls were home from university to help so the whole operation went pretty smoothly, but it still took the whole day. It just so happened that we had tickets to the annual health foundation fundraiser that night and we were even done in time to take in the meal and dinner theatre - although, after all that fresh air and exercise, it would have been pretty easy to doze off after the meal. Glen has arranged that we will be boarding another 40 cows and 40 feeders through this winter, so when they arrive we'll have to treat them all too. I don't know that there are enough hours in the day to get all the work done, but Glen seems to think we can do it. I'm going to have to sit him down and try to explain the concept of semi-retirement to him again. He's just not getting it.
He is talking about maybe spending a day or two in the states pricing out vehicles. My car is ready for a trade and he wants to see for himself all the pros and cons of buying with Canadian dollars on the other side of the border. For sure you have to look at more than just the price tag, but at first glance the savings on some vehicles are substantial. I just think it will be a great way to have a short holiday away and maybe I can get some Christmas shopping done as well.
With Glen off to work again today, I have plans to get some baking done, some house cleaning, and maybe a last few things done outside. I've already warned him that I plan to invite myself along with my sisters and their husbands to take in a fowl supper tonight. I love the community feel of a fowl supper (and the food is great too) and Glen really would rather have a plate of stew at home - so be it - we'll each get what we want.
Friday, October 12, 2007
TAKING A DAY
There is always so much to do! Thank goodness I'm home today trying to catch up on the house neglect of the past two weeks. I think I could use a whole week to get it all done.
Life here has been dis-jointed this past few weeks. My sister's husband was diagnosed with a brain tumor in early August and regretfully told there was nothing anyone could do - it had gone too far before the warning signs had presented themselves. They told him that he had from two weeks to two months to live, and they were almost right on with the prediction. They spent the time wisely putting everything in Margaret's name and doing their best to prepare for the future. There were even three weeks in August, after the doctors managed to find the right mix of medication for pain, that were good to them. But then the inevitable happened and he started going downhill again with nothing to stop the disease's progress. Over the past three weeks since John was admitted into palliative care, we sisters have tried to be with Margaret as much as possible - all taking turns to spread out the visits as much as possible. I've driven to the other side of the province twice (1400 kms round trip) and we will be heading out there tomorrow morning EARLY to be in Coleville for a 3:00 o'clock funeral.
My sister Wendy left to be with Margaret immediately after the call that John was gone to be there to help her with the final preparations for the funeral, and we'll all spend the night after the funeral together for some family time. Margaret is so lucky to be living in Coleville. The people there have been beyond fantastic in their support - giving both financially and emotionally - throughout this terrible time. When I was up there for my first visit I mentioned this to one of Margaret's friends and she said that any small town would have done the same, and maybe they would, but I still say that the people of Coleville are special.
All my fall work around this place has been pretty much put on hold. My potatoes have not been dug, the lawn mowers are not put away (mostly because the big drive-in door to the Quonset was broken and wouldn't open) and the house looks like it was abandonned to a man for eight days, all tolled, over the past two weeks. Before I knew that we weren't leaving until tomorrow morning I had taken today off and was not even tempted to change it when the plans changed. So far I've done four loads of laundry, made a big pot of soup, sorted through the ripe tomatoes, cleaned out the porch and washed its floor, and plan to tackle the outside jobs right after I sign off here. The sun is shining, the temperature is balmy - for October - and I feel like I might even catch up someday.
Life here has been dis-jointed this past few weeks. My sister's husband was diagnosed with a brain tumor in early August and regretfully told there was nothing anyone could do - it had gone too far before the warning signs had presented themselves. They told him that he had from two weeks to two months to live, and they were almost right on with the prediction. They spent the time wisely putting everything in Margaret's name and doing their best to prepare for the future. There were even three weeks in August, after the doctors managed to find the right mix of medication for pain, that were good to them. But then the inevitable happened and he started going downhill again with nothing to stop the disease's progress. Over the past three weeks since John was admitted into palliative care, we sisters have tried to be with Margaret as much as possible - all taking turns to spread out the visits as much as possible. I've driven to the other side of the province twice (1400 kms round trip) and we will be heading out there tomorrow morning EARLY to be in Coleville for a 3:00 o'clock funeral.
My sister Wendy left to be with Margaret immediately after the call that John was gone to be there to help her with the final preparations for the funeral, and we'll all spend the night after the funeral together for some family time. Margaret is so lucky to be living in Coleville. The people there have been beyond fantastic in their support - giving both financially and emotionally - throughout this terrible time. When I was up there for my first visit I mentioned this to one of Margaret's friends and she said that any small town would have done the same, and maybe they would, but I still say that the people of Coleville are special.
All my fall work around this place has been pretty much put on hold. My potatoes have not been dug, the lawn mowers are not put away (mostly because the big drive-in door to the Quonset was broken and wouldn't open) and the house looks like it was abandonned to a man for eight days, all tolled, over the past two weeks. Before I knew that we weren't leaving until tomorrow morning I had taken today off and was not even tempted to change it when the plans changed. So far I've done four loads of laundry, made a big pot of soup, sorted through the ripe tomatoes, cleaned out the porch and washed its floor, and plan to tackle the outside jobs right after I sign off here. The sun is shining, the temperature is balmy - for October - and I feel like I might even catch up someday.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
LOTS TO DO
It's the last day of September - where on Earth did 2007 go? It seems like only yesterday we were dealing with all the hoop-la over the millennium, and now, here we are almost at 2010. It is a mystery how time can speed past so fast.
Harvest is pretty much done for everyone in this area. I think it's a different story up in the northeast of the grain belt of Saskatchewan. They've been over wet for two years now so they can't get their crops planted until later in the season which just puts their whole crop year behind schedule. Here we haven't had more than a drop or two of rain since August (enough to stop harvesting, but not enough water to keep the pastures green) so Glen has been having to feed the cattle bales out on the pasture for weeks now. We have lots of hay put up so there is no worry of running out, but it's an extra job that shouldn't need done until snowfall. We have a pasture we want to move them to, but first the bales have to be hauled off it or the cattle will just destroy them. Glen has hired a guy to come and haul them home, but so has everyone else in the countryside. A guy with a bale hauling truck is a busy man this time of the year.
We were pleasantly surprised last week when our butcher called to say that he could come and do an animal for us. We had thought we'd be waiting until November for him. I had been warning Glen all through August that we were down to the last of our beef in the deep freeze - and I had put some pressure on at the last, telling him that if I ran out of the "good" stuff (our own home-grown beef) that I wasn't buying what they sell at the stores because it doesn't even compare in taste or texture. What I was going to do was switch to chicken until our beef was ready. In Glen's eyes, that's an out and out threat. He hates chicken. I don't know if he had to bribe the butcher to come early, or not, but it sure worked out in his favour; we are down to one roast and one package of steaks. That should keep us fed until the end of next week when they'll call us to come pick up a whole deep freeze of meat. Hopefully it will be before the kids are home for the long weekend so they can take some back with them. That way we can share the wealth and help them with their student food budgets at the same time.
Today looks like another fantastic fall day out there. Yesterday I washed all the windows on the house - inside and out - and today looks like a good day to go out and clean up the flower beds. I obviously don't ache in enough places yet! I will also be trying to figure out my choices for annual flowers next year. Jesse and Andrew are officially engaged and have set their date for September 13th next year so I'll be aiming to have to yard looking in top shape for late summer. I think that will mean lots of asters, marigolds and zinnias. Maybe some dahlias too, although I never have very good luck with them. The wedding will be in a church, but she wants her pictures to be taken at the farm - in September it will be the luck of the draw as to what kind of weather we end up with, we could have shirt sleeve temperatures like yesterday, or snow - but I guess there are no promises with weather no matter which date you choose.
There is much to do, both short term, and long term so I had better put down my Sunday morning cup of coffee and get on with my day!
Harvest is pretty much done for everyone in this area. I think it's a different story up in the northeast of the grain belt of Saskatchewan. They've been over wet for two years now so they can't get their crops planted until later in the season which just puts their whole crop year behind schedule. Here we haven't had more than a drop or two of rain since August (enough to stop harvesting, but not enough water to keep the pastures green) so Glen has been having to feed the cattle bales out on the pasture for weeks now. We have lots of hay put up so there is no worry of running out, but it's an extra job that shouldn't need done until snowfall. We have a pasture we want to move them to, but first the bales have to be hauled off it or the cattle will just destroy them. Glen has hired a guy to come and haul them home, but so has everyone else in the countryside. A guy with a bale hauling truck is a busy man this time of the year.
We were pleasantly surprised last week when our butcher called to say that he could come and do an animal for us. We had thought we'd be waiting until November for him. I had been warning Glen all through August that we were down to the last of our beef in the deep freeze - and I had put some pressure on at the last, telling him that if I ran out of the "good" stuff (our own home-grown beef) that I wasn't buying what they sell at the stores because it doesn't even compare in taste or texture. What I was going to do was switch to chicken until our beef was ready. In Glen's eyes, that's an out and out threat. He hates chicken. I don't know if he had to bribe the butcher to come early, or not, but it sure worked out in his favour; we are down to one roast and one package of steaks. That should keep us fed until the end of next week when they'll call us to come pick up a whole deep freeze of meat. Hopefully it will be before the kids are home for the long weekend so they can take some back with them. That way we can share the wealth and help them with their student food budgets at the same time.
Today looks like another fantastic fall day out there. Yesterday I washed all the windows on the house - inside and out - and today looks like a good day to go out and clean up the flower beds. I obviously don't ache in enough places yet! I will also be trying to figure out my choices for annual flowers next year. Jesse and Andrew are officially engaged and have set their date for September 13th next year so I'll be aiming to have to yard looking in top shape for late summer. I think that will mean lots of asters, marigolds and zinnias. Maybe some dahlias too, although I never have very good luck with them. The wedding will be in a church, but she wants her pictures to be taken at the farm - in September it will be the luck of the draw as to what kind of weather we end up with, we could have shirt sleeve temperatures like yesterday, or snow - but I guess there are no promises with weather no matter which date you choose.
There is much to do, both short term, and long term so I had better put down my Sunday morning cup of coffee and get on with my day!
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