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.

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.

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....

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.

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.

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.

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.

Our one winged warrior

Is mostly back to work now. His shoulder will probably never be the same as there are muscles detatched from the bone that are not going to grow back. However, he is a typical tough farmer and just keeps going and going. He managed to get all the corn chopped and finished up Thursday. You can see in this picture from last week that his right arm doesn't work too well, but he gets things done some how...(he is bringing me firewood in this picture, bless his heart.)

Farming is different from most jobs in that respect. There are a finite number of people to do work that is absolutely unforgiving. Cows must eat, drink and be milked. The stove must have wood. Things have been kind of ugly....cows don't get bedded or stables cleaned until late afternoon and I do most of the former. Not so neat and tidy as it might be, but they have something to lie on at night anyhow. One side of the stable manure has been piled outside under the chute for weeks....that will get cleaned up pretty quick now that he doesn't have to try to chop acres and acres of corn with one arm and worn out equipment. Just yesterday, Liz and I helped him get all the fans out of the barn, move calves, change calf collars, build stalls, clean mangers and a half dozen other jobs that have gone begging until we had enough help and time to do them.

Now we have to rebuild the sawdust shed for yearling calf housing, tear out half of the old calf tie up and put in the new headlocks so we can catch the yearling heifers to breed them...oh, and get some Amish in to patch the roof if we can... rebuild the pig housing....get the five bred heifers and two dry cows down off the hill ....and on, and on, and on..etc.....

I am awful glad to have him done with corn and able to help in the barn all day....you just can't imagine how glad.

On another note, today is opening day South, deer season. Cows are all staying in the barn except the seven out on the heifer pasture hill and they have a lot of feed down here to keep them busy and close to the barn. Show heifers are locked in the barn yard. Horses are in the barn.....and my son is somewhere out on Seven County Hill with a twenty gauge and a dream.
I forgot to have him borrow a cell phone from one of his sisters, so I will worry and worry.
I trust him.
It is the poachers who will have by passed our no trespassing signs I worry about. The ones who hunt in full cammo and take sound shots and can't tell a deer from a billy goat or a Jersey cow. It is an insult to call them hunters. They are just idiots. I hope he doesn't meet any.

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

Right now we have the weirdest bunch of heifers I have ever had to deal with. All our calves are hand raised from birth on bottle and bucket. They are as familiar with people as puppies and generally act about as tame. However, this summer, the fifteen or so we had turned out on the field behind the house have turned as wild as foxes. They have gotten so they bolt for the back of the farm the minute they see a person. We have no idea if they have been bothered by hunters, pestered by the remote control air planes we have lately been plagued with, or if it is that two of the ring leaders are daughters of a bull we used to have that sometimes threw them a little spooky.

Anyhow, anything we did with them all summer was problematic. This is the bunch from yearlings up to springers, so there were many times when we had to bring in new milkers with calves. Every single time it was like chasing deer. The dogs are old and the cattle aren’t dog broke so using them wasn’t really an option either.

We finally got them down into the cow barnyard the other day, more or less by accident. Liz and I went out at four AM to milk and found the yard full of cow tracks. We finished up chores, hoping it would be light by the time we finished. Of course it wasn’t, so we went looking by flashlights. They were sleeping up on the flats by the woodstove and we just hustled them into the barnyard slick as spit. They were a real pain in the neck there as the guys have to feed through with the tractor and they were always in the way. Then of course last night someone left the gate open and they got up on the lot behind the barn. We had to chase them again. Great fun in the dark with the flashlights spooking them and the burdocks flying.

That was the final straw. This afternoon the whole five of us set out to put the darned things in the heifer barnyard with the shorthorn bull. It was highly entertaining. They decided that the bridge between the farms was haunted and they weren’t going to cross it-no way, no how. It was really cold, the wind was shrieking and it was a plumb lousy day to move nervous cattle. However, eventually they got tired of trying to run over the men and slipped in through the gate where we wanted them. They immediately forgot their worries as the scramble began to sort out a new pecking order with the seven that were already there.

Now all we have to do is figure out how to get the last one, Egrec, down from the hill. She ran back up the first time they got out and she is the wildest one of the group. I have never seen a cow that likes to be away from the herd before, but she actually prefers staying up there alone and cold to coming down to the barn with the rest of the bunch. Maybe when the snow gets deep she will slow down so we can catch her.