And This isn't Chicago

Pumpkins

But, wow, what a wind we had yesterday! I was watching Peggy for Liz and had just put her down for a little nap when an absolute wall of blasting air hit the house.

Pumpkins

It was so strong that it BROKE most of my clothespins, even though I ran right out to rescue the laundry as soon as it hit. Granted, you can't buy a decent clothespin these days, but still.

It also blew Alan's coyote hunting blind way up by the horse yard. That was a big disappointment to me, as he left it set up so I could bird watch from it. It was really cool to sit inside and look out.

Anything that didn't blow away in that maelstrom, just isn't going to blow away.

And more pumpkins

Doesn't look like any real harm was done though, and Becky and Ralph rescued the blind.

Today we ran up to the orchard for apples for jelly and stopped to take pics of their lovely pumpkin fields, then down to the river for photos of floating things. Of course, nothing much was floating.....

Our favorite little pumpkin of all

We Aren't Cowboys

But we often wish that we were. After the debacle of loading the horned heifer last week we decided that it might be a good plan to catch Marv and remove his budding toad stabbers before we faced a similar situation with him.

All those months on the hill with his mother and aunties has rendered him more than a little bit leery of human interference. 

Thus we rigged up some gates by the watering trough.

And drove him among them and fastened them shut.

Whereupon he waited until we were nearly ready to attend to the dehorning process and then nonchalantly, easy as pie, hopped over the five-bar gate and scrambled off.

Time for plan B.

Not the eclipse...slept through that...just last night's moon rise

GMOs and Ebola

Afraid of GMOs? Frankenfoods? Buying in to all that hype?

Check this out. The very  technology that makes GMO foods possible (and safe...trillions served without harm) is being used to produce drugs to fight this horrific modern plague.

Cows may be used to make a vaccine too. They had better hurry....

A Sunday which was not Still

The boss was heading out the door to cut a little firewood.
 after chores yesterday. 

 Alan asked, "You have another saw? I'll give you a hand."

And Jade said, "Me too."

So three saws roared all day, way out in the fields. 

And the girls went out to get plastic and staples for the annual buttoning up ceremony, not one of my favorite times of year, but necessary in this old and drafty place.

The garden was gleaned by the old lady, a large bowl of carrots, another of beans, a couple of stray tomatoes and a bit of this and that, hurrying against the frost warning.

A huge stew was made with beef that we raised and all those garden goodies, and much wood was sawed and a wagon filled with more, and the covering of the windows against the cold was undertaken. Doors were planed so they closed right after years of sticking and grating.

I don't think it froze right here by the house. Too dark to tell yet. But the grass is silver out on the hill....we'll see when the sun comes up.

Sunday Stills....Planes

Eh, this was a hard one....I never go anywhere....but while I was out chasing sunsets this little prop plane from the Johnstown airport flew over, so viola, a plane....

For more Sunday Stills......

Antique Milking Machines

This display, Mike's Antique Milkers, is seen at the Fonda Fair every year and attracts a lot of attention. We have come a very long way in modern milking technology......

Sun Flower

Secret Service

I always try to use the most appropriate photos available

My personal experience with the Secret Service took place in October of 1984, when the boss and I were attending Missouri Auction School. During our stay in Kansas City Ronald Reagan debated George Mondale in the Kansas City Municipal Auditorium right across the street from our hotel.

Other than seeing the motorcade, the whole affair was not amusing for residents of what was then, I believe, the Kansas City Best Western. We were told to stay out of our rooms while they were searched by the Secret Service. We rode on elevators with the Secret Service. Often.

Students at auction school were a sorta sarcastic bunch. However, the Secret Service did not find our jokes in said elevator amusing. Nothing funny about a bunch of cowboys, realtors, and farmers from NY I guess. They surely did not smile.

Some of them spent the evening before the debate in the bar of the hotel where students gathered to gripe and practice chants at one another, grimly overseeing us potential threats, and making everyone uncomfortable..... although not too uncomfortable to practice Betty Botter over and over again.

Or maybe they were trying to blend in. If so they failed utterly, as gigantic guys with necks so thick they could barely button their collars kind of stood out among the cowboy hats and girly dresses of our classmates. 

Plus none of them were chanting, "One dollar bid and now two, now two," which was a dead giveaway.

On the day of the debate we were forced to stay out of our rooms for many hours, and we couldn't have our car....we got pretty bored walking around that section of KC. It was a little dangerous too. We were followed by a gang of youth that political correctness forbids me from describing, but I'll bet you can picture them. The boss scared them off with his best mean glare.

Always

The Secret Service guys were scarier. In the end though, it was just another story to tell about what were probably the strangest two weeks of my life.....one dollar bid, and now two, now two......

It was Mid-October

And the autumn breeze

Shook the colors out of the trees

Time was passing, but who were we to care.....

Yeah, I know it's only the first but looking around the yards and fields reminds me of this old Doug Supernaw song, State Fair.

Somewhere I have a couple worn out tapes of his albums....nothing to play them on any more. Sad how his career ended up, but I still love his music, particularly the above song and Red and Rio Grand.

Kind of quiet around here, which is weird. With six head gone the barn is awfully empty and the boss has one wing all cleaned up. We are burning the wood pallets we used to make portable stalls for the past few years. 

He saw an article about building stalls out of second-hand pallets like it was a fabulous new idea....been doing it for probably forty years for one species or another. Had to laugh about that. 

One nice thing about pallets, is you can start fires with them when they get too grubby to use.

With the big heifer sold, the big inside pen is empty, so the boss cleaned it up and we put five steers in there. Three of them are milk calves and I wanted to keep them on milk so as not to have to dump the extra from the girls....between them they make way more than we can use in the house or Marv can drink. 

We didn't know how it would work trying to feed three milk in a pen, and not letting the other two have any. So far so good. The three know what the buckets are and stick their heads right out through the feed-through. The other two just kind of look on in wonder. I did get my thumb jammed yesterday taking a bucket away but nothing serious.....

Cotton Candy Clouds

When the baby guinea fowl tuned up late yesterday evening I went right out to check. I pay attention to the alarm calls of the poultry, as they notice hawks and coyotes and other creatures detrimental to their health.

I have no idea what was upsetting them, as they quieted down as soon as I went outdoors...I am thinking maybe there was a skunk, as there is a suspicious odor emanating from under Liz's old pick up truck.

However, thanks to them calling me outdoors, I got to see this wonderful sunset. 

And a big brown bat, all by itself, very high in the sky, fluttering silently south.

It was nice. 

Going, Going, not Quite Gone

Neon Moon, dam of the Morty bull calf
and full sister to the dam of the big heifer

Shipped six animals yesterday. Three steers, two bulls, and a big heifer. 

If anyone is looking for a really well bred Holstein heifer for auction barn prices, she will be up at Hoskings Sales today. She is a Stouder Morty out of a Fustead Emory Blitz. Heifer is not bred, because she was in a pen alone.....and she has horns....so if you buy her you can breed her the way you want her.

If you do happen to buy her we can provide breeding records so she can be registered. Her mother was a really nice cow, which Liz showed for years and years.See pics of mother below......

Dam of the big white Morty heifer we are selling today.
This cow was sired by Blitz, so we called her that even though her name was Mendocino

Blitz Mendocino's udder as a five-year-old cow

One of the bulls shares the exact same pedigree, which is why we never steered him. He is out of the Blitz full sister of the dam of the heifer

She is the big white one with the horns. He is kind of half and half. We told the trucker which one he is so you can find him if you want him.......

We raised these guys since we sold the cows, hoping they will help with our tax bill....so here's hoping. 

The Water Bottle Saga

I want dis

Daddy, I want dis

Gramma, I need dis!

Ooh, I got dis

Firearms Related Post

Alan got his dad a thirty-thirty for his birthday. He has always wanted one. He got downright choked up with the boy brought it home.

It is a pretty gun....and deer season is coming.

Sunday Stills.....Abandoned

Interesting challenge this week. I meant to get up and take pics of the old truck, but just too busy and too lame...so here is one from archives. And one of an old wheel that is destined to be part of an arbor some day. And one of our old hay loader, which the Amish love to come look at, but never buy.

For more Sunday Stills.....

Stubborn Cows

Since the boss is off to the auction, and the cows refused to come down to the barn before sunup, I had to go get them. Normally.....normally.....they come pretty well when you call them or whistle for them.





Not today.

I have video proof of their reluctance. You can watch Moon shake her head, NO, when I call her. 





And Marv cavort away all silly and boyish when he hears his name.

And if you were here with me, you could have seen Bama poke, and plod, and plod and poke, coming down last and late and then take her sweet time eating her hay.

Stubborn cows!

He's Back

O' Dark-Thirty in the morning. The boss is off to McFadden's auction today, so it's early chores for the cheap help. It's a fine morning for it, just the same, out here in the owl light of the almost-night.

Mr. Blue is crowing down in the old heifer barn, his deep voice plummy as an English butler and just as authoritative. I walk Daisy to her favorite location and glance up at the heifer hill, wondering if the cows will come down before the boss leaves or if I am going to have to milk them later.

I don't mind Bama. She is a gentle old soul and used to stand in my line anyhow. I have milked her since she had her first calf. 

It's Moon that daunts me, with her shoulders nearly as high as my head, and her feet that like to come my way....and the pipeline where she stands is way too high for me to reach. I dread milking her, although I have done it and will if I have to. Or maybe I can get Jade to do it for me......she doesn't usually kick him.

And as I stand there with my silly little dog, looking over the hillside in the hour before the dawn, there he is, battle flags flying, sword outflung, ready to conquer the season and bring along his army of cold.

Orion. 

Yep, it's fall.

You Asked for It

And yes, she is too little to actually play with these,
but this was set up for the photo.....and she really likes them!

Fun with Fowl

Ooh, I has fashion socks! Hey, Mom!

Or, yeah, I'm cheap date. Went out after chores to pick the blight-stricken tomatoes for the birds. No sense letting them rot...and the chickens are not fussy. 

Although I left most of the bucket for Liz to take down to the big layers I stopped and fed a few to the baby guineas, Laura the hen, the tiny white turkey poult and the gorgeous, incredible, really, really pretty slate grey Americauna/cochin cross that one of the hens hatched this summer.

First I let the silly things out in their yard, which is a hoot in itself. Guineas are like little kids, sure they are missing something, and they boiled out that door like steam out of a kettle.

Then I rolled little red tomatoes down the roof wire, which has spaces large enough to admit a nice one, and waited until they found the right spot to fall through.

Like ducks on a June bug, the birds were on them, fighting as if I was feeding them exotic truffles and there was never going to be another one.

Each new mater caused them to abandon the one before. The yard was littered with red globes, but all eleven were squabbling over the same one every time.

I loved it.

Yep, cheap date.