Bossy Retrospective

Broadway on a grassy day

Rosie at the fair

 Here are some pics of Rosie, and her mama, Broadway, taken over the years.  I probably have more shots of Broadway than of any other cow we ever owned...I can't resist the red ones, and she sure is red.

Broadway with Bloomingdale. Don't know where the latter went

We found out last night that they both went to the same farm and are settling in well.

BDub as we called her, has been my favorite since the day she was born. By our Checkerboard Magnums Promise bull out of Alan's show cow, Bayberry, she born as red as a candle flame and she lit up the barn for all the years she stood there. The only reason I didn't keep her instead of Bama, my other favorite, is that Bama, as a three quartered cow, would definitely have gone for beef.

Rosie was sired by  Spungold Frolic Poker. Liz always loved her dark roan coat.  

Broadway, out in a hutch as a baby

Back when we were on test Broadway always held her own with, or surpassed, our best Holsteins of her age group in milk production.

She also always held her own in the barnyard when there was scuffling over the feed bunk. She was not a pet like Bama, preferring to be a bit more aloof, but she suffered my attentions calmly.

Rosie, during the name the calf contest that gave her her name

When we were loading out I was so proud of her. She stood in the first stall in the barn. The big noisy trailers were right behind her and she was one of the last cows loaded. Thus all the noise and movement and excitement of moving cattle was right behind her stall. At one point Betty and Asaki both ran up into the stall between her and Dalkeith.

Promise, just before we sent him to be drawn

She never reacted at all except to look around wondering what the heck was going on. I could have cried at the level of trust she had in us. We had never hurt her so she figured that we never would. The auctioneer said later that ours were one of the calmest bunches of cows he had sold. We never hurt them, handled them constantly from birth, and cared a lot about them. Guess they knew it.

I am delighted that both girls went to a good home where they will have a second chance. Many thanks to the young man who purchased them and was kind enough to let us know.

Gratuitous Peggy Pictures

Little Things

It was still dark when I walked our little dachsie this morning. Still, a grackle took off from the feeders. Couldn't see him, but I know his chirp. Up early....but then he's a bird, so I guess he should be.

A sleepy robin warbled contentedly from somewhere north toward the river. Such a fine, clear music to serenade up the sun.

Just now, a chickadee is singing his spring song, over and over, out behind the house.

And yesterday I was given a most amazing gift, a solid sign that, no matter how much snow or cold we get in late spring unpleasantness, winter is truly over.

Alan picked up his old yellow hard hat on the back porch. I am squirrel-like, or perhaps mother-like, in my picking up after people. It was stuck on the wall among the garden tools and bits and pieces of farm life I have accumulated there over the years. Fence handles, concrete trowels, springs and hinges, surveyors' tape, hoof nippers.....and lots of other astonishing treasure.

Inside was the framework of a Carolina wren nest. I know who built this little gem because I have heard them out there, chirping and twittering in their absurdly loud voices. Tried a dozen times to sneak out to see them, but they are too quick and wary.

The male sings and sings and sings from one of the mulberry trees to the east of the house...a spot with a good view of that bright yellow brain protector.

I will take this to be a sign. As the wrens made it through the winter...with help from fine people in Ohio and Tribes Hill....we will make it through the challenges. I hope we will sing...well, maybe not...I have a voice like a crow....I hope we will be as bold and brilliant as they are, when all is said and done.

And now, as I proofread and add photos to this little thing, the wren is on the back porch...just outside the kitchen door, singing and peeping and chattering. I am blessed....

Life Goes On

Spent a great deal of time yesterday working in the barn, rearranging and changing to better accommodate the little beef steers and bulls and attend to the comfort of Bama Breeze and Neon Moon. Bama decided that this would be a fine time to go dry, so I won't be milking her. She should calve back in June if all goes well.

Moon is doing well, and adjusting nicely to being milked by the short lady who always milked the other line. Wouldn't you know that the only remaining cow in milk stands in the only stall in the barn where I can't reach the pipeline?

I took Grandma Peggy's old plastic step stool over to the barn and hauled it up in the stall for last night's milking, after having the hose fall off the previous two, since I couldn't get it plugged in right.

Moon thought it was all good fun and wanted to lick the step stool and toss it around. I got her milked though. She is very gentle and will get used to me, I'm sure.

Thank you all for your kind words and deeds. We discovered that we have incredible friends and supportive family beyond anything we could ever have imagined. As the chaos recedes I will get my thanks to you all individually, but for now....... 

I will leave you with a couple of pics from Alan's phone. He has been boiling sap with a friend....plus one of Peggy Ann.

Life After Cows

One last pic of Broadway, my favorite cow, and probably the best one I ever bred.
I miss her the most.

People have been telling me, for years, ever since it got really hard to pay the bills running a small dairy farm in one of the highest taxed and most regulated venues in America, that there is life after cows. That you pick up, go on, do something else, and maybe are relieved not to have to worry so much, juggle so many balls, always be bound by the constraints of animal needs.

 Can't say as I ever believed it. I started milking cows for a living on someone else's farm 35 years ago. The job has been my compass, salvation, nightmare, and joy ever since. You can raise good kids on a farm....it's a great, if difficult life.

However, starting today I guess I am going to find out if what folks says is true. With my heart clanging in my chest like the clapper in an iron bell, I helped load our heifers on trucks on Saturday, and all but two of the milk cows yesterday. Saturday we had help from family members. Yesterday it was just Ralph, me, and a bunch of strangers. Can I just say that it was one time that I really, really wished that I was a girly girl and could sit in the house and do my nails or something

Yesterday ranks well up there in the top ten worst days in my life. There were many factors involved in our decision, high fuel and feed costs, several years of disastrous wet weather and flooding, the 08 and 09 dairy price disaster, and such, but paying several months worth of income twice a year in school and county tax was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.

This year it was maybe lose the farm for taxes or sell the cows. And so.

If you want to buy them, they are hard-working pasture cows, that will make milk on low quality feed. They will run out to grass and graze all day and come in and fill the milk pail for you. They are over at Hosking's Sales. You can even bring home cows whose names are known around the world...thanks to Blogger and the Farm Side. Broadway, Carlene, Foolish, Cevin, Asaki...yes, I had to sell my cow, Asaki....Baja, Camry, Zulu, Scotty, Dalkeith, Monday, Betty, and Lucky and the rest are selling. All but two.

Friends in Ohio will buy Bama Breeze so she will stay. at least for a while. And Liz is buying Neon Moon to maybe breed a calf for Peggy to show when she gets bigger. We saved back a handful of small heifers that wouldn't bring what they are worth to sell so we can pay the damned school taxes this fall, and a set of dairy steers for the same purpose. 

I spent yesterday afternoon holding a sleeping Peggy, her sweet small hand curled around my finger, strong as a good milker's hand would be. Life after cows, right there in my lap.

Sunday Stills....Potluck

Ed said to go for it...so here are a few from the archives...remember summer? Nah, me neither....

For more Sunday Stills.....

Best Laid Plans

A LOT going on today, so we went out to milk early, and get that out of the way. Of course, when we got to the barn, Camry was giving every indication of imminent calving.

Of course.

Not much to do but observe in the early stages so we observed while we worked. About half an hour into chores a foot popped out. 

An upside down foot. If you have any experience with calvings you know this is not good. This baby was breech. Of course as soon as that foot made its appearance Camry stood up. Although sometimes we have been forced to deliver calves while the mama is standing up, it sure isn't the choice way to do it.

Breech deliveries are critical. Once the umbilical cord is broken by delivery the calf reflexively breaths. If its head is still inside the cow....well, it isn't good...

Eventually just as we were getting ready to feed out the hay, the old girl lay back down and got down to serious pushing. More good news......not......the calf seemed to be upside down itself. This is nearly impossible to deal with and have a good outcome.

However, a quick examination proved that the legs were just crossed funny. A little leverage and the boss got them right.

Next we pulled. Quick. A lot quicker than would be the case with a normal birth.

We got lucky. The huge bull calf was born alive. Then mama proceeded to bite off his umbilical cord too close to his belly, so he was bleeding like crazy.

Fortunately, we have umbilical tape so we tied it off. (Baling twine will do in a pinch, but the tape is lots better) Now if she doesn't bite the string off. And if she doesn't prolapse after that crazy birth....

For Jonna, Cathy, Linda

And all of you winter-weary good folks out there. The geraniums are already showing signs of damping off. Darned things anyhow; they are so hard to grow.

However, these hardy little herbs are confident that spring and summer will get here and give them room to grow and in the meantime they are thriving in the mini-greenhouse in the living room.

They give me hope.

It Was Supposed to Rain

Dogwood down by the driveway

But instead we woke up to the ground covered with snow and the air spitting sleet and ice balls and just plain nasty. And dark. Very dark. There is a hissing and rattling at the windows that does not bode well for the day.

This time last year, there were buds on the grapes

I have a literal mind, and live very much in the moment. Thus in summer when the grass is green and the trees weighted down with leaves, winter barely looms on my horizon......despite the fact that we have many, many months of it.

Sadly, the same goes for spring. I am not too good with the theoretical aspect of its pending arrival. And mostly feel very strongly that it is going to be winter forever.

Yesterday was so nice. Today, well, not so much. This time last year the woodcock was peenting. Wonder if we will hear him soon.

And Facebook's new policy of dunning anyone who links to anything for money before sharing their content has not only cut down by at least a third on the hits that come here. It has also found me leaving the site and doing housework instead. So maybe it's a good thing. 

That is all. Have a good one.

Heartfelt Thanks

Mom is being released from rehab today and coming home. Her ankle is still in a cast, but the brothers and grandkids got a special chair ready for her and dad has been doing a herculean job getting the house all set.

I just wanted to thank you all for your kind thoughts and prayers. I truly believe that they make a difference. A very big one.

So, thanks.

And So, the Carolina Wren is Calling

If this mourning dove was a border collie they would have called him sticky
just didn't want to move

And the poor dog fell through the ice on a driveway puddle this morning with a resounding crash. Seems the water underneath had drained away and left a void, into which she smashed quite gloriously. She was not hurt, but she was not happy.

No peepers in the spring pond for a while yet, I guess
But what made that big chunk of ice?

Took a walk up in the old horse pasture yesterday to clear my mind and to investigate a bundle of twigs up in a tree, to which the crows have been showing a great deal of interest.

I can see this mess of twigs from the big windows...

Is it their nest a-building, or someone else's that they are raiding?

Nothing was revealed about this mystery in the course of my little walk, but I stood a while where my old horse is buried, checked out the still frozen pond, looked for buds on the shrubs and bushes (nope, not yet) and thought about changes and challenges.

Came to no conclusions of any moment and had a lot harder time getting back than getting out there. Under the long grass were thousands of little chunks of polished ice. And where there wasn't long grass there was still deep snow.

Guess I will forego any further strolling until it all melts and leaves us.

That is all..thanks....

60+ should not attempt to walk down this without YakTrax. Just sayin'

As Requested

There Will be a Summer...but not yet

Like a cat claw lifting the edge of a window blind, the sun peeks through.

Just one sharp little toe nail's worth of morning.

Short, quick, flash of glow, then gone behind cloud and horizon.

Cold and gloomy owl light, passing for dawn today.

And the wind is thin and hungry whiny, whistling round the edge like a band saw shaving hearts for greeting cards.

Or the devil calling in his due.

Maybe I should go back to bed.

Or feed the chickens for Becky. Yeah, I could do that.

Sunday Stills....the Color Brown

For more Sunday Stills.....

Brown samaras on a box elder tree

Little brown bird (song sparrow)

Brown beverage

Brown bottle

Becky's pretty brown hair

..

Mobbed

Click to enlarge

Walking the dog, camera in hand. Saw this hawk and was taking a pic when these crows dived in to mob it. I think it is a red tailed, but it was half way across the valley so.....

Twenty-Four

Today our boy is 24, a man really, but always a boy to his mama. I'm sure both my middle-aged brothers are boys to my mama, and that is as it should be.

Once again he is far away on his special day, working construction out of state. We miss him. Miss Daisy misses him. But we go on because that is the way it is.

I can't begin to tell you the fun I have had with him, back when he had time to hustle me out on impromptu nature trips, hitting the vlies and swamps and woods in the Blue Bomber, birding and photographing the wonders of nature.

He and I have built miles of fence together...well, he built the fence, and I supplied company, camera, and carrying of tools.

He has taken me hunting...I have always hunted, but hunting with him is a special experience, because he is so observant, and thus finds signs that I would walk right past. That skill has put food in our freezer for many a year

As I say, we miss him, but it is good to know that he is out in the world doing well for himself. Guess that is how it's supposed to be, with the raising of kids. You do your best and hope they do too.

Anyhow, Happy Birthday, Alan, hope you have a wonderful day.....love you....