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Thursday, November 18, 2010

My Cannon


I have always wanted one...along with a tank, if I get really lucky. This is the season when that situation becomes most acute.

Southern zone deer season opens Saturday.

I love venison. We lived on it last winter, along with a couple geese and turkeys....My family has always hunted, harvesting a few of the many wild animals that graze our ground.

However, yesterday I was jumpy all day with the sounds of big guns booming all around us. I truly hope they are just sighting them in and not getting a jump on the season, but most years we find parts of carcasses way before it is legal to take them. The boss went up yesterday and took a look around and didn't see anybody, but the sneaky ones wear full cammo and you can't see them.

I have always wanted to set a cannon right on the front lawn facing down the driveway.... And I want the tank to safely chase down all the damn fools who ignore our posted signs and shoot everything that moves, the whole, it's brown, it's down philosophy.... Saturday the brown cows will have to stay in the barn. Last year Moments lost her calf to hunters peppering her, now she has finally had one and is milking great. We want to keep it that way.

I often receive lectures from hunters on other blogs about the honorable safe hunters. Yes, I know they are out there, but they are not the ones we encounter. The good ones mind the posted signs and hunt where they are welcome. The ones we meet know they are breaking the law, long before we ever see them and they just don't care. I don't have a lot of respect or liking for them.

Just for information here are the New York State Posting and Trespassing Regulations

I think I will print out a couple of copies for the boss to hand out to the guys he meets who are ignoring them......

This is the phone number to report poachers in the state: 1-800-TIPP-DEC

Anyhow, be safe out there....

Sunday, April 02, 2023

I Found an Old Farm Side


From back in the day when I was an ag columnist....


 What do the Neolithic period and the Bronze Age have in common, and what does that have to do with politics today?


Good question. I’m glad you asked. 


The National Museum of Denmark says of the Neolithic period, “The Neolithic period covers the era 3900-1700 BC. The hunting people in Denmark had long had contact with the farming societies in central Europe, but only around 3900 BC the hunters began to till the land and keep animals. Wooded areas were cleared, burnt and replaced with fields of arable crops. Cattle, pigs and sheep appeared as domesticated animals.”


It is also the period wherein the first primitive examples of what is called “proto-writing” were found, as humans developed simple forms of markings for communication.  


Even though early scratches on turtle shells didn’t quite match up to texting, not only did those hunters turned farmer begin to grow food instead of shooting or trapping it, they also began to drink milk from the animals they kept.


Science Daily reports that researchers have found evidence of milk protein in the mineralized dental plaque of seven people from that era who lived in what is now Great Britain.


 “Lead author of the study, Dr Sophy Charlton, from the Department of Archaeology at the University of York, said: "The fact that we found this protein in the dental calculus of individuals from three different Neolithic sites may suggest that dairy consumption was a widespread dietary practice in the past.”


The fascinating article pointed out that the consumption of dairy products predates the genetic mutation that allowed at least some of us to be able to digest milk into adulthood. The authors theorized that either early farmers only drank small amounts of fluid milk or turned it into products, such as cheese, which have significantly reduced lactose content.




The relationship of this story to politics might seem a bit obscure. However, the animal rights movement certainly is politically motivated and they would have us believe that drinking milk from other animals is weird and unnatural. Yet we clearly started evolving our wildly successful, symbiotic relationship with milk producing mammals a very long time ago. It worked out pretty well for the survival of those milk producers...how else would they get to be kept in cozy barns, protected from wild predators, and pampered and cossetted all their lives? And how else would I get the delicious chunk of extra-sharp Cheddar I’m nibbling as I type this tale? They would probably have the cows and sheep and dairy goats go extinct and me eat some soybean concoction. I say no thanks, and the animals probably would too.


Which brings us to a somewhat more modern time, the Bronze Age. That is when our ancestors began making and using tools from bronze, which is created primarily by smelting copper with the addition of tin, and sometimes other metals. Bronze objects were harder than those made of previously available metals and thus came in pretty handy for sturdy nails and significant axe heads. The Bronze Age fell between the Stone Age, of which the Neolithic period was part, and the Iron Age, wherein humans learned to make even harder tools and weapons.


As early as the Neolithic period humans were feeding their infants and children milk from other mammals. By the time the Bronze Age rolled around it appears to have become a common practice, as evidenced by nifty little vessels from those periods unearthed by archaeologists all over Europe. The small clay pots were of a size comfortable for tiny hands and had spouts that scientists theorized would serve to supply food via suckling.An article from the Archaeology News Network showed photos of the “bottles” some of which were shaped like fanciful animals and even had legs to stand upon.


According to the article there was some skepticism as to whether the vessels were used to feed children at all or if they were used for nourishing sick people instead. Thus they analyzed the residual contents of such containers found in ancient graves of children in Bavaria. It was discovered that the bottles had contained the milk of domestic ruminants such as cows and sheep.


Nature Magazine said “This evidence of the foodstuffs that were used to either feed or wean prehistoric infants confirms the importance of milk from domesticated animals for these early communities, and provides information on the infant-feeding behaviors that were practiced by prehistoric human groups.”


Thus not only did our early relative
s begin domesticating and keeping cows and other ruminants from a very early time in order to drink their milk, so did they begin feeding their offspring such materials at an early stage in their lives.


Project partner, Dr Katharina Rebay-Salisbury from the Institute for Oriental and European Archaeology of the Austrian Academy of Science concluded in Archaeology News, "Bringing up babies in prehistory was not an easy task. We are interested in researching cultural practices of mothering, which had profound implications for the survival of babies. It is fascinating to be able to see, for the first time, which foods these vessels contained."


It’s fascinating to me that even Stone Age humans saw value in drinking milk and used it to help their children survive the stresses of weaning and subsequent primitive life.


It’s too bad that modern privileged humans want to reinvent the wheel when it comes to nutrition. Today’s vegan movement would have us forgo our historic relationships with animals and consume only plant material instead. According to the Conversation this is leading to a trend in developed and indeed wealthy countries of chronic hidden hunger as people crave micronutrients lost by following such unnatural diets. More than one in two children in the United States is deficient in vitamin D and E, while ¼ of children lack sufficient calcium or magnesium.


Guess what time-honored beverage contains all of those elements. You know the answer of course. Dairy milk.


So simple that even the cavemen knew it. Or if not cavemen at least some really early humans.



Thursday, November 08, 2007

Scouting bucks

The boy just bought a new barrel for his 500 6-shot Mossberg pump 12-gauge. He bent the original barrel when he was nearly struck by lightning while turkey hunting, (he threw it, ran and rolled when he felt his hair standing up straight) just weeks after he bought it after saving his money for a whole year. The new one is a 24", rifled barrel, ported, with a Bushnell Sportsman 3-9 by 32 scope. He is hoping that poachers don't beat him to the buck he saw last week, which, from the photo he took through my binoculars, looks like a pony with antlers. It amazes me how big deer get on a corn and alfalfa diet.

Alphecca had an interesting post today linking to a TU article about Chuck Schumer wanting to gain more hunter access to farm land. He wants to throw twenty million of federal money into that project. Good manners and attention to safety on the part of hunters would probably help more. The fellows who come in and shoot all the deer before hunting season and tag them as being shot up north where it is open make problems for the honest guys. It gets to the point where you would rather have deer and turkeys eat a third of your crops than let some of the maniacs from the city hunt your ground. We can grow more crops, but the guy who ordered Alan off our own fields at gunpoint two years ago caused a lot of other hunters to see posted signs when they hit our boundaries. Then there are the three kids from our local town who were apprehended while RUNNING after a deer, while shooting at it....right where the guys were working. Sad

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Yesterday


Was a medley of milk inspector, friends bringing things, Amishmen reporting poachers hunters who were trespassing tearing up a hay field with a 4-wheel drive, confronting the darned thugs, who have been confronted here before....next time the police get called...cows stuck in places where they don't belong...well, just one cow, but it was a big rescue project..... Cows out, cows in, feeding, milking, choring, bringing a little Thanksgiving to some family members who will enjoy it, and a small buck harvested for winter dining. Not to mention three roosters supplied for the same purpose, but placed up in the small chicken house for now.

Yeah, it's a wonder the door hinges didn't give up under the strain.

Today we ship the mean steer. Not looking forward to that, but it has to be done. Then writing the Farm Side, hopefully, and more getting ready for Thanksgiving...oh, yeah, Liz and I cleaned the fridge yesterday too and finally turned those Brussels sprouts into food.

Tomorrow, early hunting by Alan and friend and herd health. And cooking. And cleaning Thursday the dinner along with the usual chores and milking and a small prayer for nothing untoward.

Friday entertaining some hunters who take Alan hunting at their place every year. Saturday, who knows? Sunday...I hear that chair calling my name. Whoever called this a holiday week sure had a strange sense of humor.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Dang it

This is just lousy. We have been overrun with illegal hunters since turkey season started. (We are completely posted against trespass so they are breaking the law the minute they cross our fences.) We know they are out there because we hear the damn fools bang, bang, banging away at their prey, until if there is any turkey meat left, it is pre-ground and ready to spread on bread.

We can't catch them though because they wear full camo and hide in the bushes if we go out there.

One morning last week at 5:30 AM, with still at least an hour to go before crack o' dawn, someone shot
about fifteen times in quick succession in our maple woods, then there were a bunch of scattered shots. You know and I know that they blasted a flock down out of the trees and then picked off the stragglers. Not too sporting and also illegal....besides the whole trespassing issue.

We still have fourteen heifers at pasture. It is a big pasture, they have lots to eat, the woods to sleep in, plenty of water and are content.

Except when nut cases start shooting in that pasture. We have noticed the heifers running real bad a couple of times the past week and heard more gun shots than we could count. It has been tempting to bring the stock in, but if we do we will run short of winter feed. Besides, barring hunters harassing them, they are much better off outside as long as the decent weather holds. Even the milk cows are outside days with a feeder wagon and inside just at night.

Now comes the lousy part. Liz went up just now to walk through the herd and check on them, something she does most days. Normally she has to take a stick to keep them from climbing all over her. They are absurdly tame and will knock you down looking to get petted and fooled with. Today she could barely get near them. Even the Jerseys, Moments and Hillbilly, ran away and Sugar, her purchased heifer, who is too tame to even be safe, wouldn't let her anywhere near.

Then she saw that Moments, who was pregnant and due to calve in January, had just aborted her calf. Of course I can't prove that the running away from the fusillades from the turkeys chasing turkeys was the cause, but I know what I think.

And I think I wish they would go hunt on state land, of which there are thousands of acres within a few miles from here, and leave our cattle the heck alone.

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Yes, Have Some


Links that is....

Found out last night that our boy will be in DC until at least April. He can't come home because his truck is not up to weekends involving 20 hours of freeway driving. Most weekends he only gets one day off anyhow.

Kinda takes the shine off things.

So I give you this seasoned garlic Parmesan biscuit, which was delicious, as were the others of its ilk.

And some links for your reading pleasure.

So God Made a Farmer's Wife

Senator Grassley on meat inspector furloughs

Our County Supervisors act on the so-called SAFE act

And, last, but not by any means least, Duck Dynasty offers hope for vegan hunters

Yeah, go watch the last one, even if you scroll right on by the others. I can't offer you the Unalaska Police blotter, but this video runs a close second.....you too can outsmart broccoli.....

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Guest post: My First Deer


If I were to describe the best day of my life I would have to pick the day that I harvested my first deer.The whole month before opening day I had been biting my nails waiting for season to start. Two weeks before season started I had posted our whole farm in hopes of keeping poachers off our land.

After slogging through the mud for three days posting the land, I started to get a little cough. I have asthma so I figured that it was just overexertion. However, my symptoms only seemed to get worse. Soon I realized that it was not asthma and that I had the flu. As deer season neared I realized that I was going to miss my first chance at a deer.

Opening morning came and went; I was bedridden after the doctor said that under no circumstances was I allowed to hunt, at least for the first week. The whole week I was tormented by the accounts of my father's expeditions. I had to wait it out. Thanksgiving came and I felt good enough to gorge myself on turkey and all the fixings.

I started working on the farm again doing light work when my father fell ill. He had the same ailment I had. So I was left with all his work to finish on top of my own. After cleaning the barn of animal wastes and feed refusals, I was setting off to spread the noxious matter, when Doctor Mom gave me the okay to hunt for a few minutes.

Dad had told me about a little spot in one of our fields called the old pasture lot. We had used the field as a pasture in the past when the grass was insufficient in the other two pastures. The grass is tall most years, providing an excellent food source. A creek that runs on the westerly end of the field has cut a deep bank into the grassy sides of the pasture, providing great protection from the cold winds of November, as well as a constant water source. Encroachment from hunters is also hindered by the natural structure. Tucked up against the bank is a small wooded area. Stuck among the tangled masses of grape vines and box elder trees there is a little apple tree where the deer and other game animals love to go when season opens. There is a little gap between the trees where a watchful person can peer past all the thickets and see the contents of the little hollow.

It was there that I harvested my first deer. After following my dad's advice I walked around the far side of the field in hopes of advancing on the little grove. I have seen large deer go there before in hopes of eluding the constant hunting pressures. After thinking that I had not been quiet enough I took the shell out of my gun. As I walked to the hole in the trees I noticed some brown where there shouldn't be any. I quickly reloaded my gun as the magnificent creature raised its head. I felt the report of the gun against my shoulder and my ears ached from the load noise.

I slammed another round into my gun as I walked quickly through the entangled trees and shrubs to get to my quarry. At the end of my short trek laid the most beautiful animal I had ever seen. I did not need to use the second round because I shot it cleanly through the head. I then puzzled how to get this new found source of meat and nourishment home. I tried and failed numerous times to strap it to the hood of the tractor.

I had a huge dilemma on my hands. Should I leave the deer to go get help or should I keep trying to get it on the hood of the tractor? After a few agonizing moments and a few more attempts I decided to leave my deer and go get the loader tractor to get it home

When I finally got it to my house, I went inside and told my mom that I had shot a spike buck. She came out with her camera and saw the beast, There, before her, was the 140 class eight point buck with brow tines that were almost eight inches long. It weighed at least two hundred pounds. It was so large that when we hung it from half-inch rope the sheer mass of the animal snapped the line that was holding it up.

Since that day I have taken many deer. However, the day that I harvested my first deer will always be the most remembered in my mind. My father has taught me the importance of land management and self control. I never harvest more wild game than we need. And after I take any animal I think it for what it gives my family. Each animal that I take makes the ultimate sacrifice for my family's well-being.

This is a paper that Alan wrote recently for his college English class. He received an A+ on it and I liked it so much I though I would share it with you, with his permission. He is such an outdoorsman that it never fails to amaze me that he also writes very well. However, he does and I hope you enjoy this essay. Here is a photo of that deer and the happy hunter.

Tuesday, December 05, 2017

Hot Pursuit

Maybe it's the full moon

We have had many adventures while birding the county this year. We have been accosted by vicious dogs and scary people.

The boss has locked the keys in the car several long, cold miles from home, when everyone who has a driver's license was very far away. The girls and Jade choreographed our rescue but it it was a miserable moment in time.

Now we are getting scoped out by the DEC when we walk the bike trails at our favorite spots. It is amusing but understandable. We dress in bright colors during hunting season. The fact that you aren't supposed to hunt in the places we visit does not stop everybody and we like living.

The other day a state patrol truck drove by at least four times where the bike path parallels the road for a bit, peering through the brush at us. Eventually he must have seen binoculars rather than rifles because he went on his way.....but I guess we must look more like hunters than birders.

Can't wait until I can go back to dark and dreary, drab and dismal, brown, grey, and green, birding clothes. The little birdies can see bright orange as well as the rangers and react accordingly.

Common Mergansers and Mallard Ducks

Friday, November 27, 2015

Rootin' Tootin' Shootin'



So while the turkey was browning and celery being chopped, a wounded deer was ended,  pain stopped in his tracks, and a buck tag spent on mercy.

We know his back story, that stout 8-pointer, of the person or persons unknown who shot right over our cows, among which he was standing, while the men worked a few yards away, in the driveway.

With no regard for buildings, or people, or cows, posted signs, or laws, someone took a risky shot, after the legal hours of hunting, and did mortal damage without killing.

Boom. Bad shot.

He was tracked,long hours into the darkness, by someone who actually has a clue, while the authorities hunted for the illegal hunter.

Alas, the buck left for the road, and the hunters hid well.

And then, after five days of what must have been horrible misery...I will spare you the details....he came back and was found....and it is all finished.

You don't want to know the bad parts; he was neither going to live, nor die easily, but it is done.

I am fine with hunting. We eat well because of hunting. But for Pete's sake, you turkeys from town.......there are plenty of deer out there. Don't shoot around farm buildings and animals. That can quickly become a tragedy or a felony. And if you can't hit what you aim at effectively, or won't man up and find your wounded, stay at home with a Bud and a hotdog. There's a TV channel for that.


Saturday, July 19, 2014

Gravity Doesn't Work on Baby Ducks






  The very first day at camp we were met by this mother Black Duck and eight ducklings. The second day she lost one, but by the end of the week she still had seven, which is quite an accomplishment with all the pike, pickerel and bass in the lake, plus many hunters on shore and wing.

I got a kick out of watching how the little ones skipped over the surface of the water as if they weighed nothing at all.

Thursday, May 07, 2015

Reforestation


You know how I mentioned that trees are a renewable resource? That was really driven home yesterday when I went up with the boss fixing fence in the heifer pasture. 

Although we call it that, for the past ten years or so we ran the milk cows up there at least part of the time. Last year we sold the herd ...And all that summer there were only four in a pasture that formerly fed sixty. Now we only have two old milk cows

Right now, those two old girls, Bama and Moon are still in the barnyard on hay. Although they know where they belong, the fence must be repaired in case a storm or hunters or something else panics them and they run where they don't belong.





Anyhow, I went out with him to see if I could spot the Brown Thrashers that are around....(check...Bobolinks too.).

All over the top of the hill, to the tune of thousands upon thousands, little Sugar Maple trees have taken root. I swear every samara that swirled down from the old trees since the cows left has sprouted.

With only two cows to turn out there this summer I don't suppose they will be disturbed much.

How long before it is a forest again?



Although you can't see him in this view of the Shagbrark Hickory,
(largest tree, just right of center)
there is somebody up there.




This guy



Wednesday, August 07, 2013

Stranger Danger


A trek back over the pasture hill the other day revealed some electric fence lying on the ground.


Hey, whatcha doin'? Huh, huh? Can we help? Huh?

Thus Alan and I teamed up to go find the reason for the problem and fix it. Pretty much took all day.

We got the fence all fixed in one spot, then found two cows grazing on the other. Thought we had 'em all, but oops, we didn't. Had to take it back down to get them back in. That only added about an hour and half to the job.


I'll bet I could swing a hammer if I had thumbs instead of hooves

It was kinda fun at first. I saw a juvenile rose-breasted grosbeak, probably a redstart, and a number of other interesting birds. We always have a pretty good time when we work together anyhow.

However, by the time we got all the way around I, at least, was about done in. The walking was rough, so swampy and pocked up by cows, the sun was hot, and I am no longer a teenager.

And the reason was downright aggravating! We found a dead electric gate...we always make our gates dead...which powered more than three-quarters of the fence, lying on the ground. Appears that the hunters that gave the boss all the trouble while we were at camp must have opened it to go through and left it.


Yeah, right, and just how would you walk on thumbs? Huh?

Certainly the fence had recently been functioning, as there were weeds burned off here and there beyond the gate. 

I am really hoping we got it fixed good enough to hold 'em now. It was in surprisingly good shape for such a good summer for weed growth and for being dead for a couple of weeks.



The cows really wanted to help, but we thanked them, and told them we could get by just fine without them.

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Back to the Grindstone


Yep, we are. Very hot week. I felt sorry for the folks who stayed here and kept the cows going and made hay all week. It was hot enough at camp and a lot hotter here.


So we went swimming a lot and slept a lot and avoided the news as much as possible. The boss had some serious trouble with trespassing hunters that I really fear isn't over yet.






And that's all folks. Back to unpacking.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Opening Day


It is opening day of the southern deer hunting zone here in upstate NY. Can't say as it is my favorite time of year. I love venison and our freezer is devoid of meat other then three sets of pig ribs.. As landowners we get a couple of dmp permits and three of us have regular licenses. I am hoping somebody fills one of our tags.

It is a worrisome time too though. Despite our posted signs strangers will be wandering over our property. Along with that willingness to break the law in pursuit of a deer usually comes disregard for safe hunting, sensible gun handling, fair take and the location of other people. And livestock. After all, if you freely walk past a posted sign to hunt someone else's land you are willingly breaking one hunting regulation. How much do you care about the others?

The Jersey heifers were brought in off the hill yesterday. They are the wrong color for the "if it's brown it's down" crowd and the heifer pasture abuts some land belonging to a housing development, which is a source of many of the sneaky clowns we will be unwillingly be hosting.

Hunter in chief is out in his stand already, waiting for the sun to rise. I wish him luck. I wish all you hunters out there a safe day...just please hunt the state lands or places where you have permission. .....I don't mean to be so cranky, but I am tired of calling the police on the ones we find, sometimes right in the pasture with the cattle....

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Seed Signs and Cow Hunters


Yet another totally irrelevant photograph...how I love them

Here are a pair of stories
I used in researching this week's Farm Side

Chicagoans see seed signs as evidence of corporate ownership

Insects could be the key to meeting needs of hungry folks

And here is the rest of the story on the cow found dead with an arrow in its side. (The Angus in question must have been armed, as the alleged perps are claiming self defense.)

Farm equipment thieves caught in the act.

NAIS wearing new clothes, but still the same old nightmare.



Friday, January 10, 2014

Interval

Owl feather? Caught in a rosebush
The insanity I wrote about yesterday seems to have become the norm around here. I accept that this is how it is with farming and family today. However, some days stress piles upon stress until I don't know which way to turn.

The heifers' summer hangout. Other animals are using it now

Thus when Alan called me from the woods where he was rabbit hunting to report that he had seen a large flock of bluebirds and what he thought might have been a pair of red-headed woodpeckers I donned my boots and joined him.

There be something banging on these trees

The ice was bad in spots but most places we could walk in crusty snow that was fairly navigable. Out in the open the wind would bite hands right into submission. It was hard to hold the camera. However, down in the sheltered bits the sun was pleasingly warm.

Wandering coyote was here

We did find the bluebirds, although the large mixed feeding flock he experienced had moved along. You could hear birds chirping and calling out in the hedgerows of the far fields, but I wasn't up to chasing them all over the farm. There was enough treacherous ice hidden under a thin skim of snow to make waking slow and in spots pretty dangerous.

Off toward the Dacks

It was fun. It was liberating. It was much needed. You would be amazed at the dramas unfolding all the time back there, while we go about our business all unknowing down by the buildings. Foxes and coyotes search the rose bushes trying to roust out bunnies. Owls hurtle through the same bushes hunting the same bunnies, and mice, and voles and such. A busy shrew plies his way along the surface of the frozen creek and vanishes under a steep bank. There are tracks everywhere. We could read the story of the wilding night in all the many footprints.

Pileated detected
 We came back off the hill and tried to help get the stables cleaned, but the big stable cleaner chain broke about six times before we gave up...the boss is forking out the gutter and wheeling the manure outdoors from behind about half the cows. Not much fun.


Mark of the wild hunters

We figured out that the chain is at least 28 years old and it is just worn out. If the barn is cleaned really often and there is no ice, it will work, albeit grudgingly. When there is ice, as there has been so many times this winter already, it breaks. And breaks. And breaks.

Blurry bluebird


So hooray for bluebirds, blue skies, and shining vistas of woods and wild lands. They do a body good.




Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Update on the World According to Northview Farm

The 4490 is still dead and still sitting back in the field.

There are still around thirty loads of corn out, which the boss is still chopping, since we have had enough rain to float the ark. Thank God for the loan/rental of his friends' tractor.

Hunting season is less than a week old and the boss has already had a close encounter of the make-a-bad-name-for-all-hunters kind. He was chopping on one of our fields that bounds neighbors who bought their land for a hunting preserve. Someone, a complete stranger, who didn't walk like a country type of guy, waved to him from their side of the fence. He waved back and continued on down the rows of corn. The guy strode right over to the fence and climbed over right next to a big, fat, yellow posted sign. He motioned him to go back. The guy began a screaming match about how unfriendly and nasty my man is including some references to various parts of anatomy that will not be detailed here. The guy could not imagine why we would not want him trotting around the field where the boss was working, brandishing a loaded fire arm, or why we might want to keep the place for Alan to hunt. He was pretty graphic about his point of view. I guess the nearly ten thousand bucks in property taxes we pay each year is so he can have a nice place to play. Glad the boss has mellowed out a little in recent years because he is the wrong guy to pick on about trespassing and can make his feelings known.



Can you tell these animals apart? Me too.



We rarely turn the Jerseys out this time of year though, because a lot of other people, who are armed and dangerous can't. Check this story out if you want to be sickened about carelessness in the woods. I like hunting, and am even going to go out with Alan with the camera one day soon. I hate being forced to keep brown cows in the barn all during hunting season and worrying about my men as they go about their work.



Alan went out "deer lockering" for his fisheries and wildlife studies Sunday. He had quite a time shadowing a Department of Environmental Conservation technician as they aged deer and took samples to check for chronic wasting disease at various processing plants around the state. They also radio-tracked coyotes, which are being studied for their impact on deer populations. College sure does seem to be a lot more fun than it was when I went. Or maybe it is just that fisheries and wildlife has it all over liberal arts hands down (can you imagine me doing liberal anything?) Back in my day girls were nurses, secretaries or teachers...they sure didn't deer locker.



So that is the story here at the farm
. Can't wait for the corn to be done. Hope the kid gets a deer. Hope the boss can find a new engine for the 4490 that we can afford to buy and put in. Hope things are going well at your place.
Me, I am ready to stop tearing my hair out any time now.

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Cardinal Sin

Sharp-shinned Hawk

There have been hunters here all winter..... A Cooper's Hawk hit the big window a couple weeks ago. Our fledgling birder, little Peggy, goes to that window every single day now and asks where the bird went.

"It flew away," I tell her, but she always asks again. 

I thought that was who was sending all the birds on all the feeders up in a whirl every little while and bouncing them out of the trees and hedgerows willy-nilly.

However, when I was at the sink this morning I saw a small hawk chasing a cardinal around the fence between the backyard and the horse yard. I grabbed the camera to see if I could find the fray and hurried up through the snow.


To my astonishment the hawk had a female Northern Cardinal trapped up against the snow fence that surrounds my old round pen where I started the Border Collies on sheep. And he was utterly unafraid of me. 

He wanted that hen cardinal and he wanted her bad. I took a bunch of photos, waited for the cardinal to get brave and leave, and then left him to it.

I know, I know, you are not supposed to interfere with nature and all that, but dagnabbit, those are MY cardinals. Let the hawk eat starlings. Or House Sparrows! He could feast on fifty or sixty of them and I wouldn't complain.

Seriously though, much as I find it disconcerting to see the feeder birds on the menu, hawks have to eat too. This little sharpie will keep our local fliers honest as well as adding another bird to the year list.

Over the past few years we have seen many more Sharp-shinned and Cooper's Hawks around here, whether because the population is increasing or our habitat is appealing I don't know. For whatever reason it is nice to see them. 

Saw this guy and an immature down by the river the other day

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Not a tall tale




Brand new driver's license hot in his hand he betook himself shopping for shells and a new turkey call. (Lost the old one). This super-duper dandy new call is better than the old one anyhow and he was good enough with the old one to call in turkeys and occasional trespassers who mistook him for a strutting tom. (Do you have any idea just how crazy a kid practicing with a box call can make you?)

He left this morning at daybreak, chose his spot and sat down on his little turkey hunting seat to test the new call. Soon some hens responded, coming so close he could hear the frost crunching under their little turkey feet. No toms though and that is all that can be taken here in the spring season.

So he moved toward where he could hear some toms gobbling. As he was walking a deer bolted out of the woods not far away, and curved away when it saw him. Before he had time to really wonder why it was running, a coyote burst out of the woods behind it. It turned toward him and began to approach. His mind was full of the six shots his twelve gauge holds, when it stopped just out of range.

And looked at him funny.

Real funny. As he puzzled over why it was peering at him in such a strange manner he heard a faint crunch behind him.

And whirled to find the OTHER coyote twenty or so feet away, crouched down in the grass, stalking HIM. He couldn't get the gun around fast enough to disabuse it of that notion. It ran off over the hill where it would not have been safe to chance a shot.

I thought it was only where there are no hunters that coyotes are getting just a little too bold. Guess I was wrong.

Tuesday, December 19, 2023

Down the Rabbit Hole

 


The Internet has given us a lot of things, some of them horrible, but it has also supplied us access to an incredible wealth of information.

I can remember not so many years ago having family members get into intense discussions over many esoteric subjects. They/we would argue for hours and hours and even days and weeks over who was right about something of such utter triviality as to be meaningless. Sometimes we never found out.

Now, you can learn just about anything you want to, almost instantly, and if you are handy with search engine research, you can dig pretty darned deep into the topic of your choice.

A couple of cases in point...a good Facebook friend shared a meme comparing the relative sizes of polar vs black bears. It was a holy cow moment. I probably spent an hour, when I should have been hanging up laundry, delving into just how big bears are. I discovered that a polar bear could easily bump its head on our living room ceiling, which is ten feet above the ugly red shag rug. Dang! I am glad they live a heck of a long way from here. There was a black bear out in our woods a couple of weeks ago, at least according to the trail cams, and that is more than enough excitement for me.

Then there was the matter of the Buffleheads. We saw a little clutch of them during a bird count, energetically diving into the shallows of a nearby lake. It was downright awesome to find them on a CBC as open water is rare here this time of year. My friend and mentor opined that they eat vegetation and are highly popular with hunters as they taste really good. No question that fish ducks, such as mergansers are said to taste like a good dose of cod liver oil, but I thought diving duck=fish duck, and thus disagreed.

Thanks to modern technology, I now know, that although they occasionally dine on mini-minnows, their cuisine of choice consists of crustaceans, insects, and snail-type critters. (The former might explain their tastiness.) It all made sense after I thought about the matter a bit. Most fish ducks are streamlined for catching fast-moving prey, while Buffleheads are fluffy and fat and ridiculously cute. I don't suppose they have to essentially fly underwater like mergansers to catch snails after all.

However, I had to wait to get home to delve into that bit of trivia. No Internet in the 'Dacks. It was like flying blind!

I have to say that I in no way miss those prolonged and tedious discussions about minutia that often plagued our personal argumentative clan. (Montgomerys love to argue and Friers aren't far behind.) Nowadays when I hear one start to brew and bubble here in our normally peaceful living room, with a click of a mouse, clatter of a keyboard, or tap, tap, slide on a cellphone screen, I can shut them all up almost instantly.