Month: December 2017

Our calves are getting big…by big I mean they are stronger than I am!  So, being that I can’t control them by strength, routine is very important to my being able to be productive in the moving of them to different areas on the farm: i.e, from the pasture to the barn, barn to pasture, barn stall to mama, mama to pasture, mama to barn stall…they know what to expect. For the most part, I have found that if my cattle know what to expect, they are pretty easy to get along with.

Going along with that idea, I know my cattle pretty well.  Mocha will escape if you give her the chance (and twice in recent weeks, she has taken the opportunity to roam the barn and dig into the hay bales when the gate to her stall wasn’t latched completely. Mocha likes things a certain way…I only milk from one side of her…she will kick me if I try to milk from the other side.  She has to finish ALL of her feed before she is willing to comply with being secured for milking.

Mocha is also a bully.  She has a thing against our bull calves.  She bullied Hershey when he was a calf and she was still pregnant with Cocoa.  She was jealous of the attention he received from his mama, Heidi, who was then her best buddy. And then, it became a mutual irritation relationship and they equally and eagerly antagonized each other.  One day when Hershey was bigger, they were passing by each other in the pasture and he took off after her.  Guess he had a long memory and saw his chance to get her back of all her aggression when he was a calf.

Now we have a “Hershey Jr.” (aka Oreo).  He is so much like Hershey was when Hershey was younger; same loving personality and same inquisitive nature and Mocha seems to have the same disdain for him that she had for Hershey. His personality is very different from Truffle who is friendly yet forceful and quick and pushes ahead to wherever she wants to go. He is more laid back, slow and methodical…much like his mama.

Personalities aside, we have remarked this week that the calves are looking more and more alike. Oreo (Jersey’s calf) was born a very dark chocolate brown and quickly turned darker until he was black (thankfully he still has his little white “cream filling” spot) on his underbelly. Truffle (Mocha’s calf) was born a lighter chocolate brown with grayish overtones. As they have grown over the last few months, they have both become very dark, black, even. Truffle has more of the Jersey cow profile and Oreo’s face looks like an Angus. As I look into their eyes each morning and evening and know them so well, I didn’t pay any attention when someone said earlier this week “Some day we are not going to be able to tell them apart and we will get them mixed up.”  “NO WAY”, I retorted!  “I won’t get them mixed up!” HA!

Now, back to this morning…I milked out Mocha as normal and went over to help Jeff bring Truffle into the stall to help get the milk flowing again.  Truffle, regardless of when she ate last, is always thankful for another chance to nurse.   Jeff was having trouble getting the lead rope on her so I helped him and then tried to lead her out.  I thought she was acting weird, but sometimes they do!  I led “her” into Mocha’s stall, exclaiming how big she was getting and tried to get her to drink…but she wanted nothing to do with Mocha.  I thought (and even said to Jeff) that it was really odd that she wouldn’t want to drink but I kept trying.

Then it hit me!!!!  We had brought Oreo in to nurse off of Mocha and he was smart enough NOT to risk his life to do so!  We tried and tried and he absolutely refused!  Now I know he refused with good reason!  He didn’t want what he knew would be a firm kick instead of the sweet reward of mama’s milk!  I quickly removed a totally confused Oreo  from harm’s way and took him back to the stall and brought Truffle instead.  She didn’t disappoint…she was eager to drink from her mama, just as she always is.

I have exclaimed over and over since then how I can’t believe I actually couldn’t tell the difference between them and brought the wrong calf to Mocha.  When we took Oreo in to nurse off of Jersey, he seemed so relieved!  He didn’t wait for a second invitation and eagerly went to the safety of his mama for his nourishment!

Hope you have enjoyed this story of mistaken identity.  Can you imagine what it will be like next year if we have three or four calves who are all similar in color?

 

 

I’m sure our neighbors sometimes must think there are crazy people living at our place with the hootin’ and hollerin’ that goes on at times. Tonight, I was just howling with laughter at our calves!

Our routine the last couple of weeks has been that after milking, we walk (sometimes run…sometimes lead…and sometimes push Mocha and Jersey to the east pasture. To accomplish this, one at a time, we hold the calves while we let the moms out of the barn stalls and they head in that general direction until we free ourselves from the calves to guide them. The moms must go through the corral in order to reach the east pasture where they will spend their day. Then we go get the calves and run them to the corral.

So, the opposite is true in the evenings when it’s time to milk. We must bring the calves out of the corral first before taking the moms to the barn for milking and since the days are so short now, unless we get this done before dark, it can be quite challenging for a number of reasons.  First, even though the calves started off very different shades of chocolate brown, now both of the calves are black and the corral is very dark except for a pole light positioned on the north side of the shelter so that it casts a perfect shadow for black calves to hide in.

Secondly, they know their mamas are still in the pasture right next to them.  There is no incentive for hungry calves to cooperate getting to the barn when they are fully aware that their meal is NOT in the barn.  Now, just a side note: when the moms are in a different pasture and get taken to the barn first, we have absolutely NO trouble getting the calves to go to the barn willingly.  In fact, the only trouble we might have in that endeavor is to make sure we aren’t dragged to the barn behind a running calf!

Thirdly, they are literally bovine children.  Playing in the dark is fun! Making up games and head-butting and chasing the humans around and around the shelter is SUCH FUN!  Do you remember your mama telling you when your sibling was chasing you that they can’t chase you if you don’t run??  Well, tonight I remembered that little tidbit of advice from my childhood and I stopped running and guess what? They stopped chasing me! In fact, I sat down in the corral on some hay and tried to entice them to settle down and come in where I was (and where the light was)! Then, as they realized I was sitting down, I realized I was sitting lower than they were standing and they definitely outweigh me and could easily run right over me…so, I STOOD UP! My mama didn’t raise a dummy!

They chased each other, they ran in circles kicking up their back legs and “high tailing” it around and around. They were having such a high ole time, and I was laughing!  No, I was howling!  It was so funny!  They were acting so cute and obviously having a lot of fun and it was so enjoyable to watch them and be part of the fun.  Eventually, they wore themselves out and settled down enough so that we could get the lead ropes on them and lead them to the barn to begin chores. And, even though their antics cost me time on chores, the loud belly laughs were so worth the time spent with them!

 

 

When I started this blog, my desire was to share the fun and funny happenings here on the farm that bring laughter and joy to us. But because of recent events, I have become aware that I also need to share with you the sadness and heartaches that are a part of this life as well.  As in every part of life, sad and hard things go hand in hand with the good things. So, this post will not bring you laughter and it may bring you tears, but it is important that I share it with you as well.  So grab a box of tissues and walk this path with me.

We see the words “Fragile – Handle with Care” on packages and moving boxes indicating that the contents are easily broken and that special care is required. However, we don’t often remember that life…the involuntary, yet greatly-desired action of inhaling and exhaling is fragile.  Oh, when we think about it, we acknowledge it, but how often do we really think about our own invincibility or the fragility of the lives we encounter day after day?

We have had lots of new life here on the farm.  In February of 2015, we brought home our first 20 chicks.  They were absolutely adorable in their yellow, brown, black and reddish fluffiness and their little “cheep cheeps” brought a sweet new sound to our farm. In July, our first calf, Hershey, was born.  He presented breech, so had it not been for the experienced helping hand of a farmer friend, he may not have made it, but thankfully he did and he was the most precious thing I had ever seen. In the three years on the farm we have enjoyed the birth of five calves, five puppies and we have brought 315 baby chicks home to the farm, some of them layer chicks and some of them meat chickens. Bringing new life into the world and onto our farm never gets old…life is precious!

Here on the farm there are two kinds of death: scheduled (their “one bad day”) and unscheduled/unexpected.  They are both difficult.  Because life is precious, the ending of life is not easy, nor should it be. Our first encounter with unscheduled death was two day old chicks. Even though statistics prove that a small percentage of chicks don’t make it for one reason or another, it still hurts when they die. And, then some of the older chicks or chickens die before their scheduled date, sometimes due to heat or some unknown cause, and it is sad. We give them all the best care we can while they live here on the farm.

Our next experience with unscheduled death was when one of our then two pregnant dairy cows (Heidi) died unexpectedly. There was no warning until the last minute.  Her death also took the life of her two unborn calves, a boy and a girl. Those losses were devastating emotionally to me as we had to watch her die feeling helpless to do anything but comfort and love on her as life ebbed away. It affected all of us. It was so sad as Mocha, our other cow and her buddy, looked all over the pasture for her day after day, mooing as if to call to her to find her. It was heartbreaking.

We have also had our share of scheduled deaths. We have raised and taken six batches of meat chickens to the processor.  The quietness and emptiness of the pasture after they are gone is sad, but because we don’t really get emotionally attached to the meat chickens, it is a quick recovery as chores are much less complicated and time-consuming when they are gone.

Last month we experienced the most difficult scheduled death on the farm: that of our firstborn calf, Hershey, our steer, born to provide meat for us to eat. He was a gift from God to these novice farmer-wanna-bes. Knowing this was his purpose from the day of his birth did not make his one bad day any easier.  We gave him the best life we knew how and I know he felt loved. It was so sad to know he was going. As we spent time with him with the date drawing near, I cried so much and then after he was gone, the vacancy with him gone was almost overwhelming. He was such a beautiful animal, a gentle giant and loving boy. His huge presence is greatly missed here on the farm.

Then earlier this week, we again had to deal with the harshness of unscheduled death: we were greeted with the realization that a predator had penetrated the perimeter of our poultry fence and had killed two of our young laying chickens. I felt angry and sad, especially given the fact that we are lucky to get 3 eggs per day from our 16, now 14 chickens.

But, we as human beings…do we think about the fragility of life and how quickly life can change? I had a friend who witnessed a serious car accident last week who reminded me how fragile life is and how quickly life can change.  Then it became a reality for me and my family when we received the news that my own mom had fallen asleep at the wheel and had been in a serious car accident.  But as the details of the story unfolded, miracle after miracle was being inter-weaved through the entire incident.

One moment she was on were way home from doing a multitude of errands just like she had done so many times before, but THIS time was different. There were lessons to be learned and lives to be touched.  I am so glad that God spared her life. I am so thankful that although her injuries are serious and will take time to heal, she is still with us, being the same source of joy and light that she has always been.

Throughout this ordeal my mom was ordained to endure, the number of lives she touched may never be known.  I was told by many people that she was an angel, a sweetheart, the favorite patient and many more references to how she shares her light and song and spreads it around to those with whom she comes in contact.  We have said for years that she has a song for everything and I realized it was really true as she sat in her hospital bed and sang songs with my sisters and me. What a treasure she is, a rare treasure. A priceless jewel!

I am determined to remember that life is fragile, not like a breakable vase being shipped in a box, but in a  reverent way, a way that reminds us to tell the people we love how much they mean to us; a way that helps us reach out to someone we don’t know with a smile, to lend a helping hand when we are able, to help shoulder a burden that is weighing someone down, to sing a song when given the chance.

I am so very thankful  for the gift of life and love. I am so very thankful that my mom’s life was spared and that I can still call her on the phone each morning.

SAD UPDATE TO THIS POST:

We lost 14 chickens, our entire remaining flock, to a predator overnight. The devastation and sadness is overwhelming. It seems somewhat uncannily ironic that as our chickens were being slaughtered, I was sitting here writing my post about death. My heart is broken. We lost the best and most beautiful rooster we could ever imagine after having here on the farm. His name was Griffin. I am sure he died valiantly trying to protect his girls.

We are going to take a short break and make a new plan for protecting our spring flock.  I love eggs too much to give up on having chickens, but I am not ready to deal with the stress of protecting them yet.

Life and death go hand in hand as we walk this planet.  Farm life is a hard life but, to quote a loved movie line, “It’s the hard that makes it good.”  Thankfully, the joys, chuckles, giggles and laughter of the farm usually outweigh the hard and sad times. Unfortunately, this week, we have had more than our share of hard times and tears. I am looking forward to the coming joys and laughter and hope you will join me again to share those with me here on de Good Life Farm.

 

 

It’s a frosty morning as December begins the journey to Christmas and the winter months that follow. I am not a cold weather girl.  I like, no! I NEED to feel the warmth of that big beautiful light in the sky on my face! These dark and cold days of winter threaten to freeze the life out of me.  So, that being the case, why would I choose a life where I have to traipse across a frozen tundra path to the barn morning after morning and evening after evening? The answer: I love cows!  I may as well admit it now! Surprised?

I was first drawn to cows at county fairs.  Oh, I loved the horse barn and all the other attractions, but I couldn’t wait to get to the cow barns. My husband was born and raised in Amish country in Ohio and we began the tradition of spending time at his hometown county fair as a family.  His dad raised steers and most of his cousins are still in the farming business and their kids in 4-H, so we began going through the cow barns at the fair.  It is there that I first fell in love with the jersey breed of bovine. Oh!  Their eyes!  Big and brown, doe-like eyes that just drew me in!  I watched the 4-H kids caring for them and at times, just lying in the straw with them and I was jealous!  I know, you may think I am crazy!

At the same time I was being drawn to the bovine species, my heart was being drawn to the country.  The first time my husband-to-be took me to his part of the state, I was so captured by the beauty of the rich dirt in the fields, rolling hills dotted with cattle grazing or crops waving in the breeze and the seeming simplicity of the cycle of life there. The change of seasons was so obvious there: dead and brownness of winter gave way to green new life in the spring which in its time gave way to harvest in the fall.  Plant seed, grow it and harvest it.  The land with houses few and far between and the unhurried pace was calling to me!

The next link in the chain was that a friend of mine introduced me to an incredible young woman who had a cow and provided milk to people through a herd share. This jersey cow’s name was Kate.  I got to know Kate as I picked up milk each week and I grew to love her!  Eight to nine hundred pounds of docile love!  I was amazed as I watched my new friend take care of Kate and at the time thought there was no way I would ever be able to do that.  I had subdivision brain, but my heart was slowly being drawn to the country.  In addition to falling in love with the country and jersey cows, I grew to love fresh milk.

Then, my young friend sold her house and moved away. My only “fix” was heading to the cattle barn each year at the fair.  I found myself not wanting to leave the cattle barns and my camera filling up with pictures of bovine. Not long after, I was told of a farmer whose jersey cow had just had a calf. I headed over and saw this adorable little tan calf with doe-like eyes peeking out from behind her mom trying to hide in the crude little shelter the farmer had built as a haven from the harsh winter.  I was in love!

Her name was Mocha.  Oh, what a sweet looking calf she was.  However, she was so shy and afraid that I couldn’t get close to her.  I tried and tried for months but she kept her distance.  I told the farmer then that we were planning to sell our house in the subdivision and move to the country and when that happened, I wanted to buy Mocha from him.  He laughed and agreed, but honestly, I doubt he thought he would ever be called upon to keep that promise.  Little did he know that my love for Mocha was growing and growing!

Although there is a very special story in our move to the country, which I will save for a later date, I will jump ahead to us moving here.  Almost six acres with a barn and a ranch home, with pastures already fenced, complete with a manure pile, was our destination in the country.

I hope you will join me next time for the continued story of how we got here.