Sanford Stud Farm

Also known as Hurricana Farm. Today we were fortunate enough to be given a personal tour of the restored barns that are now under the care of the Friends of Sanford Stud Farm .

What an incredible place. At one time it covered a thousand acres, or so I have read. It was one of the largest stud farms of its day, housing as many as 150 breeding horses, sending one winner to the Kentucky Derby as well as an American horse to win the Grand National. Native Dancer, northern Dancer and Big Brown spring from horses bred there.

Mare and foal barns, not included in reconstruction area...alas....

The farm barn, which housed teams of pure white mules and dairy and beef cattle
Also unrestored

Saddle racks

Hand made stall hinges, made on site by the farm blacksmith

Saddling area

Jumping horse barn

Today much of the land is under Walmart and many of the buildings are gone. Those that remain are simply amazing. In the jumping barn the stall walls are inch-thick solid cherry. In the mare barn you can still see the marks where the race horses kicked the walls, and the edges of the doors (which are nearly as high as my head) that were chewed by generations of thoroughbreds. The atmosphere in the stables and rooms speaks of a time when life was much different, long before supermarkets and highways. (In the early days of the farm the race horses were walked to the track at Saratoga.) We were most grateful for a chance to glimpse the glory days of racing through our visit to this historic spot.

A medicine cabinet in the jumping barn

Solid Cherry Stalls

Gibson Oat Grinder, the only one in the US

"Suicide Ladder"which goes to the oat bin

Computer Problems

I got 'em.

Not sure which update screwed things up...Firefox updated, Picasa updated, AVG antivirus updated (I think that is the one that did the bad) Java updated.....However, something slowed the whole works to a turtle crawl and things are going gnorw.

Google Chrome, which Alan uses so we can have separate log ins and all, vanished completely and I had to uninstall and reinstall it. Can't get AVG to uninstall....gah!

If I haven't answered comments it is because the darned thing eats them or takes half an hour to load the page.

As soon as I get things figured out I will get back to answering comments and all that stuff. Meanwhile, have a great weekend.

Snow Last Night

In October...somebody call the global warming people...oh, but they are not calling it that any more are they? Because it is so hard to convince folks that things are warming up when it snows a month early in a warm spot like here on the river.

It didn't snow much mind you, but I went out in the rain with a flashlight and some of the rain drops were swirling in slow spirals instead of splashing straight down. That is snow where I come from.

Farm Side Friday

The Decline of Dairy Farms

Another Sad Story of Farmer Suicide

From John Bunting.

This is a sad tale of a hard-working young family caught up in the very vortex of the dairy price cyclone. If you think current somewhat higher milk prices are a panacea you need look no farther than the price of corn and fuel and the scary activities of the futures market and cheese to see that things are still ugly and not getting prettier fast.

Jersey Plus Shorthorn Equals....

I am smart and I know it.

I was loose in the barn this morning and gave the boss lady quite a run for her money.

We have been waiting more than patiently for Liz's Jersey, Moments to calve. She is the one who aborted her baby last year at this time when hunters were harassing the heifers. We sold Hillbilly, the other animal affected by the affair, but nobody had the heart to part with Moments...even those among us who prefer the black-and-white cow or the milking shorthorn to the little brown cow. In order to get her bred back as quickly as possible she was serviced to our shorthorn bull. She started looking as if she was going to pop any second now about two weeks ago. That is kind of a Jersey thing...they always seem to do that. We kept her up in the barn and barnyard and watched....and watched....and watched....

Not sure what to think about all this

Liz stayed up all night with her on Tuesday. I ran to the barn far more often than was convenient yesterday.

No calf.

Then last night right after milking she got down to business and popped out a little girl in just a little more time than it took to tell the story. She is quite an interesting color as you can see. Except for a dished Jersey face and a black nose she looks a lot like a shorthorn.

First milking with the machine.
Moments was a very good girl about it. Liz hand milked her last night.

Prodigal

Back in September, over three weeks ago, our house cat, Elvis was sent into backyard exile for household transgressions too egregious to accept. (The boss put him out). He was a reformed barn cat and should have been all right.

Instead he instantly vanished. We regretted our hard hearts and looked for him constantly....actively...I wrecked my foot plowing through the wet grass and it is just now mostly healed.

Two days later we found a mangled cat in the highway in front of the house. There wasn't much left...a couple paws...an ear...marked perfectly, right down to the tiny dots on the back paw.

We mourned...more than is reasonable for a bad-mannered cat. We acquired Simon, who is indeed a cat, although about ten times a day someone would say, "He's a nice cat, but he's not Elvis."

He can't help not being Elvis and I treat him well. Even if cat nip makes him sleepy.

I never stopped looking though...just a wishful glance into the tall grass, telling myself I KNEW he was dead, but still wanting him back.

Last night Becky went over early from chores ...I don't even remember why...and came back screaming. I thought she was hurt...or the cows were out. Alan was at the playoff game with with big brother and sister in law. What could have happened? She scared the heck out of me I'll tell you.

There was a cat that looked like Elvis on the back porch.

Yeah, right. That only happens to other people.
In stories.
Liz and I ran for the house just the same....no cat.

I went out into the tall grass and called the special call that always brought him down the stairs, hurtling like a juggernaut, in search of his dinner.

No cat. We started to go into the house and there he was. Thin. Burdock bedecked. Bearing a few battle scars and spots of missing fur, but there. I picked him up and put him in the kitchen and he immediately began demanding canz.

I am still kind of stunned. I wonder where he was. Certainly not here. There is cat food on the porch and I am outdoors all the time. I would have seen him I think.

He and Simon don't think highly of one another. Still, they are both used to being crated like dogs, when Nick comes through (Nick thinks of cats kind of like a succulent menu item) so we just set up a second crate... a second litter box....a second water bowl. I think I can make it work. I WILL make it work.

On another cat-related note, we have been stocking up on barn cats for the winter. Coyotes, fishers, and wild game of all sorts devour our working cats with depressing frequency, so we put out the word. So far we have a little silver and white girl cat, now named Triton, her daughter, Keebler, and a nice yellow and white Amish cat, which Becky and I are calling Lord John (we may not have the final vote on that). Now someone has dropped a big ugly tom by the driveway...kind of wild....brown tabby, long and lanky, with a small white spot on his nose...

Mike Rowe Talks About Dirt

America must return to Dirty Jobs

I too could tell you a lot about dirt. In fact I could give you some up close and personal demonstrations about dirt without ever leaving my kitchen. Even as we speak I am puzzling about where all the hay came from.
First cutting, kind of coarse and discolored....who tracked it in?
And how do you track in hay anyhow?
Oh, well, where's the broom?

Wordless Wednesday

Fuel Stop

Not our beans

Sometimes it seems as if we work for BP here at the farm. The Birdie Pancake stop and shop that is. We are awash in migrating robins, on their down from the far north and heading south to visit our good friends in the warmer states.

They are all business, chirping earnestly and hurtling from sumac to Virginia creeper to river bank grape (our equivalent of hard rolls with butter, donuts, and plum Danish), intent on getting breakfast, before they rejoin the caravan of voyageurs rolling south for winter. Their behavior is nothing like their tentative manner in spring, when they test out this perch or that for is acoustical properties, singing a few warbling notes from each before choosing the finest for their dawn and evening concerts. Now they are on the move and in a hurry. A flash of white underpinnings, a hint of russet breast feathers and they are gone.

We still have a few singers though. White-throated sparrows toss off half of an off-key "old Sam Peabody" as they glean the bushes and hedgerows. Chickadees chick and titmice whistle. Gold finches chink and cheer. Jays shriek, crows crawk.....And the other morning early when I was out seeing to Nick, the last BC in my world, I got my own personal serenade. One of the male mockingbirds must have been sleeping in the red delicious apple tree; I must have startled him awake (it was o'dark thirty as usual). He burst into short but vibrant song, just a few lush phrases before he woke up enough to realize that it was fall and he needn't bother with all that. His song was like a golden apple glowing in the dark, so sweet and strong and lovely. I was much richer for the experience and thanked him kindly for his efforts as he winged away down the old orchard.

As fall segues relentlessly into the sleeping iron of winter we must take the wonders where we find them. Mockers and robins do it for me.

Munday, Munday

Sunday Stills....Cars

For more Sunday Stills

Apple Strangeness (but goodness)

Last year we picked our winter apples on November 11th. This year we kept hearing rumors about an early harvest, so despite the debatable weather, Alan and I went up to our favorite orchard today. It is barely time to pick Pink Ladies, which are what we decided to store this winter (they were the same this January as when we picked them and we ran out before they spoiled).

When I asked if they were ready the nice orchard lady said, "Well, sort of."




Turns out that the two other large local orchards had serious frost damage this year so everybody went to our orchard. And they picked almost all the apples ready or not. We found the two bushels we wanted, but it took some looking.

The orchard was still busy and there were still some apples (we left you a couple of bushels of pink ladies up by the picnic area if you are looking for some.)

However, I suspect that they will be out soon. Alan had to hunt for a long time to find about 3/8 of a bushel of Granny Smith, which are now buried in one bag or another under Pink Ladies...we will find them sooner or later. One thing is certain though. They taste as good as always.

Kipling Knew Dogs

Mike, who never liked the camera

I am sure most doggy folks have read and felt this poem, but when my good friend Jeffro put it up in the comments, lets just say it was the right thing at the right time. I had read bits and pieces of it before, but didn't realize that Rudyard Kipling had written it.

The Power Of The Dog

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie--
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find--it's your own affair--
But...you've given your heart for a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!);
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone--wherever it goes--for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart for the dog to tear.

We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long--
So why in Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

Rudyard Kipling

I have been a fan of Kipling since I was a kid sitting alone in the parents' bookstore reading my way through the merchandise to stave off the summer doldrums. His characters, animal and human, were far more earthy and real than Disney's version, especially horses and dogs. My favorite Kipling piece is the Maltese Cat
Thanks Jeff

Running Outdoors in the Dark

Both ends of the day, dagnabbit, and no choice about it. Thank the Lord for flash lights.

Last night we got done with chores fairly early. The boss was able to feed the cows from the wagon in the field so we could turn them right out at the end of milking. Thus I came to the house just as the moon was taking over sky duty for the night.

The sky was cobalt and gold with twenty jet trails stretched across it horizon to horizon. They were like a foggy fan, wide in the east, converging in the west, some wide and faded, some sharp and thin.

I puttered around building up the fire in the stove for overnight and soon I could also see live jets flashing among the contrails. Wow, there are a LOT of planes flying over this place. The phenomenon was much noticed and discussed on Facebook on a friend's page later in the night.

Then well after it was really dark (and I was lying in bed re-reading a Diana Gabaldon book) the chickens set up a fuss. I knew something had been bothering them as they have been trying to roost on the porch...this is not a development that I favor as they have been sending deer antlers, planting supplies and bottles of dry gas and chain saw oil treatment flying all over when they get up on the freezer. I ran out into the dark, barefoot with flashlight.

Not a sign of a thing, but the boss says possum. From the low key outrage they are expressing I'll bet he is right. Guess I need to put them back in the little coop.

Morning, still dark, back out to take Nick up to the run with his breakfast. Foggy, which is fine, as foggy beats rainy any day of the week and that was what was predicted when we retired last night.

I don't much like the dark, but one entertaining aspect is shining my flashlight down into the garden pond on the way in at night. Young froglets and crayfish trundle around doing what they do among the plants and sleepy gold fish. It is fun to get a look at their secret world.

***Incidentally the blog roll crashed this weekend. I have done my best to reconstruct it from memory, but if I missed you, please let me know so I can add you back in. Thanks!

Bear vs Beef Cow

Here

Do check out these photos. I don't think I want to mess with those mama cows!

Llamas on the News

Our good friend Teri, llama llover and source of our favorite chickens has made the news!

It is Over

Gael is gone....10-11-10

I think we will miss her for a long time.

Who Would Burn a Barn?

With animals inside.....a real horror story. Thank God the farmer's son was observant and discovered the fire before it spread any farther.

I 81 South to Cabela's

Alan took Becky and me along on his senior trip yesterday. He didn't choose to go on his actual class trip (to drink and party down in the Catskills) and, although the Cabela's trip was something he always wanted to do instead, cash and circumstances had never conspired to make it possible.




However, he and his sister pooled their money and planned this excursion to the Cabela's store in Hamburg PA for yesterday. And they invited me to join them.



There is a certain amount of choice in routes between here and there. And it is possible, nay probable, that Alan's choice of 476, the toll road that ambles off toward Allentown, may have been an improvement over my choice...I-81 that is....which is the one we took. I-81 is industrial strength ugly, make no mistake about it.




Some quotes from participants in the epic journey and others who heard of our woes:

"I-81 is one long rumble strip from the border to the exit for Hamburg."

"Hey, lookit that guy that went off on the median and is driving there! Wow, is he crazy or what???"

"No, it's probably smoother there."

And of Route 61, which was the one we took from 81 to Hamburg, "I think this road was laid out by a white-tailed deer on crack."

Yeah, the ride was rough.





However, the store is really, really, really cool. It is an amazing thing to actually see the mounts of deer you have read about in Outdoor Life or Field and Stream. I wish my feet had been up to more time in the deer room, where there are legions of legendary bucks for viewing. I didn't even take any pics there as the room is very dark and I am a poor student of flash photography.

There is so much stuff to see, and hear (such as folks who should stay away from turkey calls as they are going to scare away any turkeys they encounter...of course I couldn't get Alan, the terror of the stairwells at Coby...to demonstrate his stuff) smell, (I shudder to imagine the reaction of a deer that accidentally found itself in the deer lure department...just mind boggling...if I ever go again I am going AROUND that departement) and taste, (yeah cinnamon roasted pecans, what's not to like)



I took some photos, probably fewer than I should have, but if you can visit the place yourself, do.... just plan on buying ball joints, tie rods, shocks, and tranquilizers at the end of the trip..

My favorite part was the aquarium. I could have spent the whole time there!

More pics from our trip here.

Fungi

A puffball, sliced in half

First there was the Friday Farm Side frolic with farcical fungi.

Then came Saturday.

A red Ford pick up rattled up behind the house just after we came in from chores.

A familiar and friendly face appeared at the back door bearing a surprise gift.


One of our good friends read the Farm Side on Friday, walked out his door on Saturday, and found a fat puffball on his lawn. Since he was coming this way for parts he dropped it off.

Close up

So I cooked a bit.




And here it is.....fried puffball.

Sunday Stills.....Billboards

Bill boards are few and far between here. Up around Johnstown there are a number of them, but down here not so much.....We wanted to get a photo of one of those Amish signs offering everything from eggs to rocking chairs to jam for sale, but none of them were placed where we could safely pull off the road. Meanwhile this ugly thing has been perched on the side of one offshoot of Little Nose Mountain as long as I can remember. It has been refurbished but it has been there since we were kids riding around with Grandma and Grandpa Lachmayer back in the day...And that is how long I have disliked it too.

For more Sunday Stills......

Halloween Sky

Not the Halloween sky, just a cool sunset from the other day.

Shortly after the day started the horizon turned an eerie yellow with clouds like purple bruises looming down from above and lacing their fingers through it. Like skeletons sifting through thrown out pumpkin pie......It was spooky and not pretty and set the stage for the where-did-the-cat food-go-puzzle we are now pondering.

We lost our Elvis cat week before last in a tragic accident. He had a big personality, a lot more than cat-sized and we miss him very badly. Within a short time I found that I really needed to fill the hollow he left. It was a huge cat-shaped void that echoed at feeding time and had me seeing cats under all the furniture and all around my feet. It made my chest hurt from him not being there....such a big empty place right in the center. I had to put a real cat into that place before I lost it...I was really depressed.

I woke up a few days after Elvis left us with the decision made in my mind to adopt a cast-off cat rather than begin again with a kitten. Figured I would tap the Want Ad Digest for the cat of someone moving or entering a nursing home or some similar circumstance.

By the time I had been awake for two hours I had heard of one. Simon was a mill cat who took up pulling warp off the looms. He was facing urgent relocation in a pound-ward direction if he didn't find a new home. (Thank you Matt and Lisa) Alan brought him home that night.

Simon is a big guy. Twenty pounds worth. So far he has been a pretty good boy, but when I am not inside and able to keep an eye on him he stays in a dog kennel....that whole clawing thing you know.

Thus last night he was in the kennel when I went to bed (he doesn't seem to mind, being a very sedentary sort of fellow).

Meanwhile, Gael is fading fast. We brought her in from her bed on the porch at supper time last night to give her a can of cat food and her antibiotic. I gave her the pill but I didn't see her eat anything. Liz put her back to bed before she left last night.

This morning (under that spooky Halloween sky) that dish was empty and licked clean. Gael was still on the porch. Simon was still in his crate.

And I am still wondering. No other food was touched. There is butter and bread on the counter. Steak bones from dinner waiting to go to the other dogs near the sink. What the heck ate that cat food??????? I really hope it was Gael before she went out....or maybe somebody had Simon out after I went to bed......otherwise.....

Simon

Friday

Various editors over the years have been responsible for Farm Side titles...or headlines...or whatever you would call them. Some have been incredibly creative and fun and left me laughing until tears ran down my face.

This week's is a pretty good one and I thank whoever came up with it.

Without further ado:

Waiting for the Puffball Fairy.

In the Dark

Yeah, tis the time of year for chores in the dark. O-dark thirty in the morning and after dark in the evening. It isn't too awful when it is clear. Kind of neat to be out in the night. However, during monsoon time it is pretty darned grim. They say it is supposed to clear off this afternoon.

I am ready.

On the feeding side of things Alan came up with a good plan. We were chopping Sudex and second cutting hay and feeding it green...a reasonably workable system. Then we got this rain. No idea how much, but it is still raining after almost two weeks, the driveway is gone again after just being repaired, the four-wheel drive is down and the John Deere can't do the job. We didn't want to open any of the 150 or 200 foot long bags the men have put up for winter, but the girls gotta eat.

I suggested to the guys that next year they should think about putting up two or three little bags first thing in the spring, so if we get a spell of bad weather or a break down we don't have to commit to feeding out winter feed when it isn't winter. (Once you open a bag, the feed spoils if you don't keep feeding from it.)

Alan thought a while and said, good plan. Then he suggested...."why don't we pull the bagger off the bag we are filling now and just close it up and start a new one for the rest of the fall harvest?. Then we can feed that instant "short bag" right up."

Yeah, brilliant idea, so that is just what they did. The cows had big golden mounds of partially ensiled Sudex for supper last night and they really liked it. We let them eat in the barn instead of outdoors so they were actually dry when we milked them, which is not an issue for them, but it sure is nice for the cheap help. They went back to their pasture last night, but heaping mangers await them as soon as it gets light enough to find them and bring them in.

Had a calf born yesterday too. We were watching Camry like a whole family of hawks. The past two times she has calved she has been afraid of the calf or something and tried to give birth while running away from the process. This is not a workable plan and she nearly died with her first calf. things were pretty dicey last year too even though she calved right by the barn and we were right there.

Thus the plan was to keep her in the stable when she looked close and be right there to assist. Like many plans made by mere mortals this one was foiled by a higher power. She looked fine yesterday morning, no sign of labor, so we turned her out with the rest of the girls. Last night when we brought them down to dinner she was leading a shaggy little black and white heifer, a daughter of SWD Valiant. I guess she finally figured things out. Just in case she hadn't quite we kept them both in the barn last night....

WWW

Stuck

Or....Sometimes your morning coffee is the best part of the day.

We are back into monsoon season here in the Great Northeast. Never really got out of it actually, although the weekend wasn't too bad. So harvest has come to a dismal halt and the guys are getting stuck. Me too

Stuck with the skid steer....all you can do is dig yourself out and try to smooth over the hole so the next guy doesn't bury it.

Stuck with the tractor, chopper and forage wagon...all you can do is unhook, pull the wagon out backwards, lug the chopper out somehow and go find some place else to chop for the cows.

Stuck in the garden...all you can do is pull your now bare foot, mud-be-sloshed over the ankle bone, out of its flip flop and then dig the darned thing out. Bah! But the last of the tomatoes must be brought in... to ripen on every surface in the kitchen.

(Made meatloaf last night with extra-sharp Cheddar on top, covered with thin slices of ripe tomato sprinkled with Parmesan and home made Italian seasoning...took every body's minds off the mud for a little while at least...also apple crisp...ditto..)

And last but not fun, stuck in the barnyard while opening the gate for fifty-odd large, hungry animals that want to go through that gate and NOW. (Rubber barn boots get stuck worse than flip flops and in the barn yard the stuff you get stuck in is not nice black garden dirt)....all you can do is cling to the gate and pull like heck on your foot...hope your boot doesn't come off...hope the cows wait a second while you get your foot out and get out of their way.

Am I ready for it to stop raining....um.....yeah....I do believe that I am.


Meanwhile, the kitchen is the best place on the farm to be, if you have an excuse to be there. I have several....

Harvue Roy Frosty Wins Again

Frosty is the winner again this year at World Dairy Expo

Sunday Stills...Red and Green

I cannot contemplate Christmas in October, so here are some reds and greens from around the farm and the nearby area. They include the Ag Bagger, with its red hopper and green body, some of the boss's red graffiti on his Ag Bags, an asparagus berry, a tomato on some lovage I am drying (a slow job as moist as everything is now) and some maple, virginia creeper and river bank grape foliage.


For more Sunday Stills......

Alien Cow Abduction

A serious and growing problem

The Most Beautiful Cow in the World

The girls like it when we stay home and take care of them so we have never been to World Dairy Expo (on this week in Madison, Wisconsin.) However, this year I have had the unprecedented pleasure of following the action via photos on the All Breeds Blog. It is so cool to see the exhibits, the faces of the excited folks attending (even a couple of them whom we know and talk to now and then) and most especially the wonderful, wonderful cows of all the top dairy breeds. There was a heifer pictured there today that is probably the best looking Swiss I ever saw

This afternoon I clicked on over to see what new photos of fabulous cows had been posted. I scrolled just a little bit down the page and stopped in awe.

Man, oh, man what a cow. Not one thing about her not to like. Long and black with an udder that looks painted on. Correct legs. Top line smoother than my kitchen table, which is pretty darned smooth and so elegant you could expect her to be wearing white gloves and a tiara.. She is sure something.

Then I read the caption.

Harvue Roy Frosty, last year's supreme champion. (You can take a look at her yourself here). She has just been scored Excellent 96 and boy did she earn every point... Not too surprising that she might catch your eye.

If I am not mistaken, this year's supreme champion will be chosen tomorrow. I can hardly wait to see who it is.

Farm Side Friday

A couple of days ago sunrise looked like this

Is about World Dairy Expo and the popular breeds of dairy cattle this week.




Meanwhile there is flooding everywhere. I was joking yesterday about wet cows leaning on us when we milked them ....which they do...which is a pain...but this isn't a bit funny. The paper is full of stories of flooding, minor so far, but nothing is minor when it is happening to you.

Our four wheel drive tractor is down with something like a valve spring (they got the turbo fixed only to reveal other problems) so the John Deere 4430 is all there is to feed and chop.

It got mired yesterday just getting the wagon out to the field and the tire chains had to be put on the the rain and muck. We are normally in for breakfast by 8 or 9 but it was nearly 11 before morning chores were finished.

The boss has enough left on that wagon to feed them today, but tomorrow he is going to be mudding it for sure if he has to chop....we don't want to open a bag of winter feed yet or turn to the hay mow, so I surely hope it stops raining and dries out.

Meanwhile there are rumors about the river continuing to get higher until tomorrow night...I am waiting for sunrise to see what it looks like. It was already pretty high when the sun went down last night. We are high on a hill, but.......

Hope you are all snug and dry wherever you are and if you need rain, take some of ours.....please.