Cammo and carrots

No frogs this summer! Normally as soon as the garden pond is up and running half a dozen show up to claim super-select bug guzzling spots and stay til fall. They soon ignore us completely and go about the serious business of slurping up mosquitoes and errant grasshoppers in contented oblivion. Some even accept handouts. In return for cheap entertainment we take the biggest garter snakes down below the bike path when we find them seeking frog leg lunches. (It is amazing how far we have to cart them before they stop coming back. They put homing pigeons to shame.) However, there have been no frogs this year....it has been too dry. Even up in the field potholes herpetiles have been rare as hen's teeth. Alan found one little green frog which he put in the garden pond a few weeks ago, but that is all.

The game of who can spot the hidden frogs (they have great cammo) loses some of its glamor when there is only one teeny-tiny frog (and an import at that). Then it rained most of our week at camp. It rained almost every day since too (putting a hellacious crimp in the hay baling I can tell you). Rainrainrain...thunderthundercrashinglightningstillmorerain. The driveway is a washout, barely passable by my SUV, (which I find I really NEED this year). It is too wet to pick zucchini. Or peas or beans. Too wet to weed. Too wet to mow the grass (which is growing again). It is no longer dry to say the least.


Yesterday Alan and I stopped by the pond for a game of find the frog. We hadn't seen even the little import in days. Simultaneously we spotted one....at least a foot a part! There were two! Then a third one plopped under a lily pad and frog-stroked for the bottom. Normally we get big, fat frogs; these were barely two inches long. (It makes spotting them even more of a challenge.) Wonder if the weather has anything to do with the small size or if it is just coincidence that we only have little ones this year. Doesn't matter. The pond, which is especially pretty this summer, is once again a fun place to visit.

We grew carrots in half a fifteen gallon barrel this summer. Our soil is so dense that normally you couldn't pull a halfway decent carrot without breaking it, (if you could even grow it in the first place), but a barrel makes it easy. (We grow lettuce, tomatoes and squash in them too.) Half a fifteen gallon barrel is the perfect depth. A mix of sand and compost equals perfect earth. The stuff we wash the pipeline with comes in such barrels and we only get three bucks if we redeem them so the price is right. They are easy to wash and just the right size for a wimpy old lady like me to drag around. Incidentally I have about six more out there in which the guys need to bore drainage holes pretty soon if I am going to have time to grow more carrots before winter.


I pulled this one for salad the other night and was astonished by the color though. Somehow I forgot all about planting Rainbow Carrot mix this year. Yellow is nice, now I can't wait for a purple one.

Where the buffalo roam

Wouldn't it be nice if Congress, animal rights activists and assorted other folks who don't feed the world were even half as concerned about the people whose cattle were slaughtered willy-nilly because of disease spread by government animals as they are about the bison? This is a new arrangement will let the bison wander ever farther outside the park, where they act as a reservoir for brucellosis in Montana.

From Rep. Denny Rehberg, "Let's not start throwing funds in on a federal level because of some guy from New York who's not familiar with the situation," said Rehberg's spokesman Bridger Pierce.

I guess I am one of those dummies from New York, (not that I don't agree with Rehberg,) but I will be darned if I see any sense in giving diseased animals more lee way. If you take some time to read some of the articles , you will probably be as mad as I am about how cheap the government was in compensating the ranchers and then turning around to force them to pay capital gains tax on what they gained by being forced to sell their cows for much less than they were worth. Bah!

So do they take a vote or what?

This summer the milk cows have been using two pastures, one up the hill, one down and around. Given the choice they seem to like up the hill better, but we can direct them either way just by changing the gates. However, for about three weeks now they have had their choice..both gates are open. Invariably they have gone up the hill, which turns out to be handier for the guys, who put their feeder wagons full of chopped oatlage and field peas there.

The night before last they all sort of drifted down toward the other pasture gate. They hung around down there a while, then changed their collective mind and went back up the hill.

Yesterday morning they did almost the same thing again. However, they just stayed by the gate looking indecisive and we went to breakfast wondering which way they would go.
When we returned, they had clearly gone down the hill and around the back to the old pasture. They came in full of milk and happy as larks.

Today it was back up the hill as if they had never heard of the downhill pasture.

So why did they all do that? It wasn't that Heather, the usual lead cow, took them, because she was lying on the bridge ignoring the whole affair. Nobody drove them. They just went.
Puzzling.

Oh, wow, what cows!

I chanced upon a wonderful site while whiling away a little time before milking this morning. Denise Rich paints fantastic cows..... dairy, beef, and even rodeo bulls. I completely lost track of what I was doing while I browsed through her paintings.

Lucky shot

The view from the outhouse

Should it finally materialize (off topic, but what the heck)

I will immediately listen to the singing on this video....all at once and without waiting a week for it to load. Mike Rowe of Dirty Jobs, (which the guys watch and which I can't seem to avoid watching even though I am really trying to read the latest JA Jance) is the only person I have ever heard sing the National Anthem without straining for a single, solitary note. All the way through, beautiful and painless. I could listen all day. Way to go, Mike.

Getting high speed Internet

Is not all that easy. I signed up the day we left for camp. I clearly and repeatedly informed the young telemarketing/pest gent who sold me the package that I would be away and no one else here deals with that stuff. He assured me that there would be no problem with that. Oddly enough the company's representatives were still frantic that they couldn't contact me instantly. However, along with high speed we also will receive some other services, including voice mail. Guess where they sent the phone calls about getting everything set up? Guess who had no way to access the new mailbox? So--o-o-o-o-o.....guess who spent an unconscionable length of time on the phone with someone with whom communication was challenging trying to get 'er done? Maybe I don't speak clearly. Maybe they don't. I dunno. I hope this gets better as we go along rather than worse. It is only a little more expensive than the tangled conglomeration of stuff that we use for phone and net now, but I am getting worried that it is going to be a lot more challenging to work with. Oh, well....

Congratulations

To the Red Scot at Adventures in Ruralia (and his wife and family, of course) on the birth of their first child. His son was born on the 4th of July and will share his special day with not only our great nation, but with me as well. I can say from experience that the Fourth is a wonderful birthday. Imagine a lifetime of imagining that all those fireworks are for you!

Things that make you say hmmm

Corn affects the weather......

Strange to be back

It is so odd to be home. I was kind of a park rat for so many years...Adirondack Park that is and it is easy to slip back into that world.

"Today the Park is the largest publicly protected area in the contiguous United States greater in size than Yellowstone, Everglades, Glacier, and Grand Canyon National Park combined."

Grandma and Grandpa Lachmayer had a camp there, not on a lake, but we had fun just the same. We stayed there darned near every summer weekend of my childhood. (I was hell on frogs.... needing to get a closer look at every single one I could find.) The special scent of moldy canvas can take me back to sleeping in a leaky tent and living on macaroni salad and hot dogs in an instant.

Then I lived in the park off and on as an adult. And camped in the park. Hiked the park. Canoed the park. Stayed in lean tos. Fished. Picked berries. Watched birds. Tried to garden....(a fascinating pastime with the short, short summers up there). It was another life than this one, as far removed from the high pressure of farming as keeping a diary is from working for the New York Times. Every year our visit to Peck's Lake turns me back into a person of simple wants and needs and few responsibilities for one short week. Then we come home and I morph back into farm wife, parent, writer, bookkeeper, and put on all the other hats I wear. It is like stepping out of one life, taking a trip back in time, then moving forward again. Weird but worth it I guess

Three mornings......More of why we love Peck's Lake

Home again, home again

See ya

Boil up some hummer food, clean and fill the feeders, take out the trash, clean out the fridge, finish up all the laundry, pay the bills, balance the check book, order grain, order teat dip, roll up the change and take it to the bank, pack the snorkels, fins, poles, tackle boxes, grab a stack of books at the library, indulge in the latest Nora Roberts (brought to me by the Farm Side, thank you), bandaids, Skin-so-Soft, Off!, dog food, dog ropes, canoe? (no, we'll come back down and pick that up if things are quiet on the lake; no sense getting swamped by the maniacs) charge up some camera batteries, drag extra hay up to the horse yard, Frontline on the dogs, don't forget the can opener, leashes, life preservers, remember the butter, hotdogs, macaroni, spaghetti sauce and home made jelly, bring along shampoo and flashlights and blankets....and oh, heck, where is that list anyhow!??!!!

We are off to camp tomorrow for a week, hopefully including some fish. Take care!

Jaws

Up from the depths he comes....

Oh, no, he's got me!

Much excitment

About the weather. We have had thunderstorm after thunderstorm...at least a couple every afternoon. For the most part the worst of the weather has gone off to the north bombing Gloversville and Johnstown with dangerous hail and high winds. Last night our turn came.

We got started milking late for one reason and another (mostly having to do with men). Alan had not yet fed the cows their wagon of chopped oatlage with field peas and new seeding so the boss sent him off to do so as soon as the cows were in the barn.

I happened to look up the hill as he was pulling out with the tractor and shouted for the boss to get that boy back ASAP. The gate where they take the wagon through into the field is in an area we call "Lightning Corner". Trees that sprout up there don't usually get more than thirty feet high or so before they are burned or blasted down.

Anyhow the boss let out one of his mighty whistles; the kid heard him and made it to the barn just as the maelstrom hit. Thank God! Within seconds I looked out to see the four or five heifers that stay in the barnyard while the cows are milked bolting down the hill. The tree that they were standing under crashed to the ground, and was still bouncing, as they came for the door. None were hit though. I think they heard it tearing loose before it actually came down. Now there is a large and tangled pile of potential firewood waiting to be cut up and hauled away. Right there handy so to speak.

It was a wild storm. Parts of the overhanging roof of the milk house porch blew off. Rain slashed in through all the windows, wetting us even inside the barn. Dirt blew into our eyes from the windowsills. (Gritty nasty stuff.) The windy downpour lasted most of milking. I hated to touch anything metal because lightning was banging down all around us, but I didn't have much choice as the stalls, dividers, pipelines and the grates over the stable cleaner, which we must walk on are all metal. On one occasion the cow I was milking jumped right up in the air when a bolt hit. I think she got a little zing there.

When the kid finally got to take the feed out after the storm blew itself out, Lightning Corner was a jumble of blown down and blasted trees. It took him a good hour and a half to shift them so he could feed the cows. I lay awake for quite a while last night being very, very thankful that we stopped him from trying to beat the weather and get the cows fed before it hit.
VERY thankful.

Thanks!

To whomever invented this product. I can't think of any beverage that would taste as good as milk with these drinking straws made from Cocoa Krispies cereal. I'll bet they are prefect for slurping up nice cold dairy beverage. and lousy for drinking soda, designer water, grape juice, Budweiser, or margaritas. Yay milk!

The Seven Wonders

NYCO had an interesting post about looking for the seven wonders of
that area of the state, which led me to contemplate the potential for finding the seven wonders of Northview Farm.

Of course holding it down to seven is about like eating one potato chip...there are a lot more in the bag and each one is tastier than the one before.

However, I will start at the bottom and work my way up through seven delights of life on this hill.

7)Soft fog cat-footing up from the river on a gentle summer morning. It deadens the sound of the Interstate and makes the train whistles echo lonesome and long across the valley.

6) Neon Moon peeking in through the sawdust shed window. She can barely get her nose over the edge but she sees PEOPLE and they are about her favorite thing in the whole world because they bring BOTTLES of MILK! There is always an inquisitive new calf or two to keep things interesting.

5) The scent of a mow full of fresh hay, which comes with the opportunity for the guys to grease the cross mow elevator without getting on that awful ladder...they can just stand on the hay and get er done. No worries mate.

4) Knowing that we FINALLY got the blood drawn and the hair pulled from the bulls for DNA testing so they can go to Dependabul and be gone from our lives. Remind me to tell you about what I think of the difference between breed requirements for DNA testing...a few ear hairs from the Holstein and BLOOD from the shorthorn. You can't get blood out of a stone, but you can from a bull's butt...it just isn't pretty...or fun....or safe. I am so glad that that job is over. Now we wait for results.

3) The birds, wildlife, flowers and just general outdoors stuff that surrounds us all the time. Living here on this hill is like spending all day every day in a national park or wildlife refuge. Just yesterday I was able to get the photos of the wren and the vulture on the no trespassing sign without taking any time out of my work day. They are just there. We also saw white tail fawns, eastern cottontail babies, woodchucks with kits, squirrels and dozens of other birds. I love it here.


2) Growing what we eat and eating what we grow. Right now except for herbs and lettuce and our own beef and pork and milk we are waiting...for tomatoes, squash, beans, peas.....and I CAN"T wait, I'm telling you. Meanwhile the guys grow a 300+ acre garden of food for the cows too. Neat.

And the number one wonder of life here is......

1) Working together every day, especially with the three kids that make it possible for us to do this. And I am not kidding. We couldn't do it without their help, from field work to cooking dinner to feeding calves and filling out registration papers, they have their hands on everything and I am glad for it. When you figure that they are fun and funny people too and a delight to be around who could ask for anything more wonder-ful? I am proud of them and I hope they know it.

Prime Real Estate

For the wright wrenter

Beware

I felt a bit bereft

As I came over from the barn after milking tonight a raspy, buzzy, fluffed up family of just fledged wrens chattered at me from the bushes. Bah, I thought. Our front porch songster's family, in the pillar, has grown up now and we will miss our all day front hall concertos. Mr. Wren even goes down inside his pillar home and sings INSIDE it! I love listening to him.

I was thinking how much we would miss his singing as I came to the garden pond. And there, on the wire that brings electricity into the house, he swung, singing his heart out at the sunset. Guess we have TWO wren families. What largess!

I agree

With R-Calf

Flower day

All unbeknownst to herself

Miss Cellania gave me a birthday present. I would like to share it with all of you, so you can waste as much as possible of your Fourth of July holiday clicking on little spheres trying to blow them up.
Go ahead....click it....you know you want to.


****You will be cussing me all day if you do

Our national anthem

This is a very sweet story and so fitting in light of the holiday tomorrow.

Mandy and Jack

Mandy with her new baby...photo by Liz and stolen by mom from BuckinJunction

Get that camera away from me and gimme that grass!

BlackJack

The moon is a cold white laser, a chilly beacon across the darkness

At three thirty in the morning anyhow.
This is not something I would normally know as like most folks I am asleep then. However, yesterday, after threatening for days, Liz's best show cow, Mandolin Rain, finally decided it was time to have her calf. This was the second time Liz bred her to the popular Holstein bull, Fustead Emory Blitz. Her last baby was Mendocino, known to the family as "Blitzie". She was a BIG baby. It was easy to see from Mandy's behavior last night that this one was going to be big too. Although she is our largest cow, Mandy is a bit on the fragile side, thus Liz stayed up all night with her. Not so long ago I would have waked up and worried a dozen times if she was staying up with one of her cows. However, she is 21 now, knows pretty near as much as the boss and I do about calving, and knows when to tap on our door if things get out of hand.

So I slept like a baby....(well, actually a lot better than any baby who ever lived here). However, at 3:30 I was wide awake and went down to see what was going on. The night was dazzling, blue and black sky glittering with that laser moon, so bright there were shadows in the shadows. It was so pretty outside that after Liz, who was sitting here at the computer waiting to go out to the barn again, told me what was going on, I went out in the dark just to look around. It reminded me of the night we lost the boss's mom, six years ago this coming Wednesday....my 49th birthday as it happened. We went out of the house when it was over, so shattered and hollow it felt as if we would never be right again and there, across the back yard and heifer pasture, was a moonbow stretching like a stairway up to Heaven. I have never seen another night like that, before or since. Last night there was no moonbow, but it was otherwise the same. I thought I felt her presence, as I stood on the back porch, barefoot in my reindeer bathrobe, as if she were watching over my baby while she cared for her favorite cow. I'd like to think she really was.

The news about Mando was good. Although Liz had to help her, she had a big, black heifer calf, and came through fairly well herself. Now the girls are going to have to scurry around trying to find some calcium gluconate, on Sunday, no less, as the stuff we thought was calcium in the case on the shelf is dextrose, and not much help to a cow with a mild case of milk fever. We are thinking Tractor Supply will have some........

The day's occupations

Yesterday's too....

Anniversary of the flood

This time last year much of the Mohawk Valley was under water. Friends, neighbors, and folks all over the state, lost homes, cars, gardens, miles of crops and entire businesses. It was truly a horrible disaster. Response to it made clear though, the sense of community that folks here in the other New York, far from the lights of the big city, share. From an army of blue, made up of Amishmen and women, who marched into our small towns to undertake clean up and rebuilding, to the cars full of just regular folks who showed up to look for ways to help, the turnout of volunteers was amazing. The boss, Alan and I even spent a couple of hours here on July 4th last year, washing merchandise and replacing it on the shelves. I asked the guys if for my birthday they would take me up to Fort Plain to help with the work because it just felt right and I am very fond of the folks at the Agway store. They obliged and pitched in too. I wish we could have done more, but we had to deal with running a generator tractor and keeping the farm going at home so we could only work for a short time. Others spent days and weeks helping out.

The people who run the Fort Plain Agway Farm Store are amazing in my book. They struggled through the first flood, more flooding later in the year, a lightning strike that took out their computers and almost losing the use of their building and still are going strong in this blessedly drier (so far) year. I have never gone into the store to pick up barn calcite, chicken feed or bicarb for the cows and not been greeted with warm smiles on every face, even when things were at their worst. It is always a pleasure to do business with them.


Here at Northview, we are lucky enough to live on a really big hill, so although we lost a large percentage of our corn crop, had driveways washed out and went without power or trips to the store for a while, we came through pretty much all right. Other parts of the valley were not so fortunate and some places are still cleaning up ruined houses and trailers. I am hoping that this year on my birthday we can just stay home and grill some Nathan's and boil up some potatoes for salad. I am getting too old for the excitement.

My mother, the painter

Cows are going to visit the Statue of Liberty

No lie

Read all about it at Moove to American.org

You can even sign a petition supporting American beef and enter a create a burger contest!

We don't use it

But I still understand the technology. Now it seems that the NY Times also understands the false hoopla surrounding rBST-free ( a misnomer if ever there was one) milk. Don't pay more for the same exact stuff, is all I'm sayin'.

I mean, check out this quote from the Times article:

"These reviews noted that traces of BST are found in milk from all cows, supplemented or not. They also pointed out that, like other proteins, rBST is digested in the human gut. Moreover, even if it is injected into the human bloodstream, it has no biological activity."

Wild Wednesday

Torrid Thursday...well, not really much more than just a touch torrid, but it alliterated nicely. Last night after a serious set of thunder storms, the sunset filtering through honey locust leaves was pretty and peaceful so I grabbed the camera. We lost power for a while, but it was back on before milking so we didn't have to fire up the generator. We bought that to be ready for the Y2K scare. Of course we didn't use it then, but since that time we would have been out of business without it half a dozen times. We once had no electricity for 16 days! The only damage this storm did to us that we have seen is to put a big box elder tree down on the cow lane fence. Of course one of the cows cut a teat climbing over it so she will be tough to milk for a while. A cow just won't go around if she can go through. Last week lightning took out one of the fence chargers despite lightning arresters on the fence. It is just an awful year for lightning.

One thing that amazes me is that even during the wildest storms birds fly back and forth past the living room windows like shuttles in a hurry. You would think they would huddle in a tree somewhere and wait it out, but they don't.

It is cooler today, a bit, though still soggy with humidity (see yesterday's comments for a definition of this arcane weather term). Up until yesterday it had been quite dry (and I am not complaining,) but the corn needed a drink pretty badly, so the rain was kinda/sorta welcome. I put the potted sago palms out for a drink and a bath, of which they were much in need. It is odd to see the puddles full though!

***I have been tagged by Mrs. Mecomber and will answer, as always on The View at Northview
****Oops, no, wait a minute...I did this one a while ago, only with six things.
Two more....let's see
7) I am phobic about ticks and call it tick terror. Keep them buggies away from me!
8) My father has been president of the local Audubon society, the mineral club, the carving club, plus collected archaeological relics at one time, and fossils, and always took us kids along when we were young, so we had a REAL interesting childhood....not to mention the antique store and the book store, which served as playgrounds to the young Montgomery clan.

I wonder

It is brutally hot here now. When it hits the nineties in upstate New York, extreme humidity always comes along for the ride. The discomfort level escalates like tension in the Middle East.

The guys are putting in baled hay right now and the mow is a sauna. I am glad my days of storing hay went bye bye when my knees did. They come in dripping for a change of shirt and a nice cold drink, then back for another load they go. The cows go nuts when they smell the sweet tang of new hay, and crowd the fence hoping for a hand out. At least the men are nearly done putting up the baled hay, although there is plenty of chopping and some late corn planting yet to go.

As the girls and I milk the cows in our own private steam bath, swatting flies and dodging sloppy tails, I wonder...

Does Al Gore have his air conditioner turned on right now? Or is he reducing his carbon footprint and sweltering like the rest of us? Just asking is all.

You are very special to me

One of the most kind and caring, intensely moral, upright and decent people I have ever known.

Hard working

Talented

Much loved

Did I forget handsome?

Happy Birthday "little" brother!

What is it about baby birds?

Maybe it is from years of raising little chicks on the porch and being attuned to distress cheeps, so if their light bulb burned out or something I could rescue them from chilly death. Whatever causes it, I cannot let the imperative cries of baby birds float over my head among the background noise like I do the trains and the cars on the Interstate. I have to at least go look.

Thus at this time of year I spend half my time peeking out the window, or peering nearsightedly up or down or somewhere else to see who is doing all the cheeping and peeping. The wrens are still at home in the front porch pillar, but I am kind of used to them. Still I check on them every now and then and enjoy the parents' all day chorus. Both male and female downy woodpecker come in to the suet feeder dozens of times a day, trying to teach those pesky chicks to pick their own suet. The male has no patience at all and is a very noisy fellow when feeding. He reminds me of a dad cheering his sons at a Tee-ball game. The mother is just tired.

Then there are the chipping sparrows. I nearly stepped on a tiny, half-fledged baby the other day, right under the clothesline. It fluttered away peeping that all too familiar distress call, but very musically. Now its parents spend the whole day racing back and forth along the clothesline chirping at their hidden children. They even perch on it among the clothes pins and fit right in, being much of a size and color to match, although the clothespins don't have brilliant russet head caps. I have chased them (birds, not clothespins) around with the camera several times, but to no avail. They are just too quick for me. (I can however, catch up with the clothespins and do quite often. This is nice weather for drying things outdoors.)

A young blue jay of teen aged persuasion has been seen going in and out of the eaves of the heifer barn. They are not normally building birds and he is rather striking darting in and out of the dark holes. I think he is taking Sassenach and starling eggs to eat, and more power to him.
The killdeers from DG's yard have flown the coop. They sail around and around the yard like a precision air drill, screaming their signature call. I defy anyone to NOT look up when they pass on sickled wings.

There are many others.... baby birds are everywhere and so are hungry predators trying to eat them. The field below the sitting porch is a constant swirling drama as jays and crows and grackles battle Eastern kingbirds and sundry smaller, quieter fliers, for the lives of their offspring. I take a book with me when ever I go out there to sit, but I never get any reading done because I end up watching them.

Hmmmmm.....

What IS this?

Mom's (bored) board




Alan is bored in a more elaborate fashion
(with a little help from Becky)

****These are for Steve

****We are supposed to use these barn blackboards for cow related info...thus you can see above the watermelon some of the intimate details of number 49 (AKA Veronica) 's affairs and above the assorted tractors and fishing tackle you can read about Lemmie's love life and see when we received grain deliveries....should you for some reason be interested in such esoterica. However you can also see how we spend our time while we wait for the first set of cows to finish being milked. Sometimes these drawings become amazingly elaborate and last for months and even evolve. Such as the Halloween pumpkin from last year that was drawn on the bigger board where the tractors are now. Over the winter it froze, was covered with snow (LOTS of snow at some points), thawed, rotted into mush, and a little pumpkin seedling grew up the side of the board and bloomed. And then one day it was erased to make room for something else....you see, when I say bored, I mean BORED.

Come on over and bring the kids

Here are some new kids on the block who came to visit yesterday while I was planting petunias. I was in the dabbling mallard pose under the honey locust, grubbing out fox tail grass and grubbing in fluffy-ruffled double pink petunias, when I heard urgent chink-chinking calls right above my head. A much harassed and nearly de-feathered mother downy woodpecker was feeding a pair of chicklings, (which were nearly as fluffy as the flowers,) suet and then sneaking away trying to get them to fend for themselves. She is already pretty tame and they don't know any better, so even with 3X zoom, I could get some fairly close shots. The big fluffy birds are the kids; the small scrawny one is the mama.

Mama is the little beleaguered bird on the bottom
Baby is the big one

Should I fly away from the fool shoving that little camera at me?
She looks sort of dangerous...

Na, this stuff is pretty good....
MAAAAAA...come over here and chip some more of this out for me, will ya?

Finally!

Here is the House Wren video Mom promised you guys. Hope it will work for everyone!

Calf kills Wolf

Sarpy Sam alertly caught this amazing headline...if it hasn't been changed by the time you get there. I am wondering if the wolf choked on a bone, or if the calf packed more wallop than your average Angus or something, but I am thinking it is quite an event anyhow.

Fishing trip Mill Point

All work and no play?
Nah.....not on Sunday





What the Schoharie can do when it wants to




River of rocks

***Mrs. Mecomber mentioned in the comments that this looks like a river that can rage if it takes the mood.
Here are a couple of links to what it has done in the past. The bridge in the middle photo replaces one of two that went down one terrible day in 1987. (That tree is a lot bigger that it looks in the photo btw!) The other bridge was on the New York State Thruway and killed 10 people when it fell. We were in our car at the bottom of the house driveway with Liz, just a baby, in the car with us the morning it went down. We actually heard it, even though we are about five miles away from it. The boss knew instantly what he heard. Both he and my dad always distrusted the big Thruway bridge, as its construction was known by local folks to be less that the best. It seems to be forgotten now, but the local sheriff at the time tried to close the Thruway that day before the bridge fell because he was afraid that it would, but was not permitted to do so..... with tragic results. A couple of days later we parked the car on the road above this fishing spot and saw whole cottonwood trees, 60 or 70 feet tall, bouncing down the river and banging on the banks. We even saw a mobile home bounding by. The force of the current shook the road like an earthquake. Here is a picture I took last summer that gives something of an idea how deep this river gets. This is a few yards upstream from this year's photos. Flooding goes much higher than the high bank you can see behind the painted rock.
We are very careful about choosing our fishing times here.

Interesting

From TFS Magnum, about tax revenue after tax cuts.

Northernfarmboy

(Liz had been trying for a couple of days to get the wren video up, but dial-up has its problems in that department as well.)

While we await its arrival, I found another interesting species that sometimes inhabits upstate New York in summer. I was lucky enough to get a few photographs of one that was displaying on our lawn. (They are quite tame and friendly to humans.) This is a representative specimen of the Northernfarmboy in its usual summer plumage. (Note the typical hat with folded bill, {Go 'Cuse} the incipient farmer's tan and the hay muscles just coming into seasonal bloom).

You may find Northernfarmboys in their natural habitat, (although the species is declining through habitat loss to burgeoning development), sometimes polishing the seat of the old Case 930 with the seat of their worn out jeans, while they ted a field of hay or chisel up some corn ground. Other times they are found tooling around in the bright blue pick up truck seeking the elusive driver's license or hunched over under the hood of the White 2-105 repairing whatever breakdown it has come up with in a long series of same.

Included are a couple of pictures of typical Northernfarmboy habitat, including a passing thunderstorm and the horse pasture on a misty morning, the first of which will send your average farmboy running for cover. (Especially this particular specimen, which was nearly struck, to the hair standing up on the head stage of too darned close, by lightning and doesn't like it much any more.)




Northernfarmboys come in a wide range of ages and color patterns, but are easily distinguished from Northerncityboys by a certain loose-limbed walk, as if always going somewhere and knowing exactly where that somewhere is, strong, broad shoulders and that unmistakable farmer's tan in summer. (Girls, if by chance you happen to catch one for your own, be prepared for him to work ridiculous hours doing arcane things that smell bad and produce staggering amounts of dirt.)

They are, despite that, quite nice to have around and I wish a very happy Father's Day to my own sun-browned Northernfarmboy, and to my Dad, who is a spectacular specimen of the NorthernBookDealer, with a dash of master carver, rock hound, gardener and a host of other talents thrown in for good measure.

Have a great day, guys!

Timothy and Troglodytes aedon

Timothy is in bloom now.

Liz may have mentioned that she bought a digital camera to take rodeo photos and video for her blog, BuckinJunction. This has an incidental benefit for me, in that she can also take video of the house wren family that we discovered was nesting in the pillars on the front porch. She is going to put one up here for me later today. You can see them feeding their babies and singing at our front door. It is so delightful to sit here with the doors open to the front hall way and hear them sing and the babies twittering when they bring breakfast. It gives new meaning to the concept of sweet talk.

I apologize to all, who like us, have glacial dial-up connections (she lets her videos upload while we milk, which takes about three hours.) I know you probably won't have time to load the video when she gets it done, but I just couldn't resist sharing it.

Meanwhile, here is a rather blurry photo, taken with my much smaller, and not quite so zoomy, camera.

We stopped to pick some Vitamin C today

We had to run to Fort Plain today to get some barn calcite, which we sprinkle on the floor so the cows don't slip when they come into the barn.

I did NOT want to go.
The garden beckons.
Vigorously.

However on the way home we stopped at Cashin's and Liz and I picked two quarts apiece in about five minutes. Literally.

I think it is going to be a good year for strawberries.

Morning Glory

Well, really, it's a geranium, but you get the idea I think. There is nothing painful about early mornings this time of year.

New in the blog roll

This blog showed up in the Center for Consumer Freedom daily newsletter today and I just had to give 'em a link. With everything from why PeTA and Jesus probably wouldn't have been pals, to Lincoln's poem to his pet dog, it is plumb entertaining. I want to be able to read it easily myself.

***If you are bothered by dead woodchucks, don't go there, but if you like reading about working dogs, don't miss it.