To Sing With Goats

27.5 Hours Later

2012-02-23T17:23:00.002-08:00

It's finished.

My first, whole knitted farmyard set (minus the goat who was made in December) has finally been completed.

This set includes one bay horse (I've decided it's a Cleveland Bay), A Holstein cow, A Gloucestershire Old Spot pig, a Suffolk sheep, and two chickens (who were originally supposed to be Barred Rocks, but apparently you can't get "barred" yarn...). All the animals have been hand knit in 100% organic cotton yarn. Sooooo nice!

I must admit that I've taken a particular liking to the cow... She says her name is Molly, and she's quite amiable in temper. ;)

I have to show off the pig too! This is a different pattern from the first pig I made, and this new pig is now to scale with the rest of the animals! I think she is so cute! She fits perfectly in your hand (or in two hands of a child!), and she has a nice feel to her; compliments of the cotton yarn. :)

I do believe I shall name her, Charlotte.

And then there's the horse, of course....

He hasn't told me what his name is yet, but perhaps he'll tell his new owner...

Now, to finish the next set!

A Niggling Thought

2012-02-22T16:46:00.003-08:00

Found in the Classifieds of the newest Small Farmer's Journal:

"Free to good home:14Y draft cross mare. Was part of a team. Events, skidded logs, training cart, hard worker. Well trained, but not a beginner’s horse. Black, white socks and blaze, 15.3H. Oregon."

You see where I'm going with this, don't you? Well trained, but not a beginner's horse... I could handle that. I've trained and been around enough equines to have a horse who has some spunk and opinions. It would sure be handy to have a power source like that too... I've been mapping out an eggmobile of my own, but the problem I've been having is how to move it. Mine would be smaller than the Salatin's; just a little 8'x10', but that's still quite the load to pull. A horse could pull that... Shucks, I've already got a cross tree, and I know where I could get a harness for a good price.

But this is all just a thought still... Just a niggling thought...

'Nuff Said

2012-02-22T16:35:00.000-08:00

The picture says it all: This is how my days have been.

Muddy.

They say we have three seasons here in the Willamette Valley: Winter, Thaw, and August. We've had our winter, now we get muddy thaw until August. Fun. ;)

The Buck Has Landed

2012-02-19T19:18:00.000-08:00

After many weeks of waiting, today was the arrival of "Bob" the Nubian buck. He's here to meet the does, and will be staying here until May. At first I was rather dreading the prospect of having him for that many months, but I think it will be okay. He's a sweet guy. :)

And let's not forget his pedigree! http://adgagenetics.org/GoatDetail.aspx?RegNumber=N001512812 Love it! He should put some really nice udders on his daughters!

So, without further ado: Bob the buck.

The House Call

2012-02-18T12:06:00.000-08:00

It was about 2:30, yesterday, when the phone rang... Some friends of ours over in Amity had a goat that was having birthing problems, and they wanted to know if I would come and help them out. They said they managed to pull one kid out, but there was still a second kid stuck inside the doe. Would I come and help them? Yes! I scrambled around the house, changing into my work clothes, and putting on my rubber boots before clambering into the car. Feeling somewhat like a vet on a call, we drove as quickly as possible to the scene of action.

Upon arriving, I jumped out of the van and jogged up to the house. Inside, next to the wood stove was the first kid: a palomino colored buckling, with a splash of white on his forehead, and beautiful, frosted ears. He looked like his name should have been 'Buckwheat'... He lay quietly on a green towel; not making a noise, or moving. He wasn't dead, but he didn't seem to be among the living at any great degree either. Outside was the poor doe. Hershey chocolate in color with honey hued badger stripes on her face (oh how I loved those badger stripes!), she stood in a hunched form that only made her petite size seem all the more dwarfed.

There was no time to be timid, so after washing up well and applying some lubricant, I had the fun job of seeing what was wrong with the second kid. It was cold that afternoon... The sky was covered in grumpy, gray clouds and it drizzled off and on. I had to take my Carhartt coat off to perform my work, and oh dearie me was it chilly! I only had to stick my hand in halfway before I could feel a hoof and a nose. That was good. But where was the second hoof? I went in up to my forearm, following the head and neck of the kid, but I couldn't find the second leg! After some more searching, I decided to try and pull the kid out with the one leg. With the help of the owner of the goat, and her sister, the three of us gave it our best shot. Nope. Wasn't working. I entered the doe again, desperate to find that leg, but still to no avail.

Plan B. We all went inside for a cup of tea while I sent out an emergency message on The Goat Spot. Fellow goat raisers all gave their advice, and we made various phone calls to livestock raisers in the area. The advice was all the same: Either find that leg, or call the vet.

We talked about calling a vet, but unfortunately there are very few vets that will handle goats, and the ones that will are usually quite expensive. Calling a vet would be a last resort.

Back out we went... It was 4 'o' clock now, and still gray and rainy. I searched, and searched, and searched that poor doe!! She was dehydrated, and exhausted, having been in labor for almost 48 hours now. She was such a small doe, that I barely had enough room to move my hand around inside her, much less try and find a stray front leg. After an hour, we went back inside to seek more advice from goat people. Alas, we found the little, golden buckling fading away as we entered... I picked him up and cuddled him; listening to his faint and irregular heartbeat beating a staccato rhythm. He gasped for air and gave small cries that were absolutely heart wrenching, and by 5:30 he was gone...

Once again, we returned to the doe, feeling much more sober, and much more determined to get this second kid out. Around 6 p.m., I felt it: a small hoof, tucked up against the left side of the kid's body. I found it!!! It took a lot of grunting on both mine, and the doe's side before I had the hoof straightened, but I succeeded! My helper (who was the sister) and I beamed at each other. This was surely it. With both hooves out all we had to do was pull the kid out, right?

Oh life is never that easy... In the process of getting the second leg out, the kid's head slipped to the side and was now bent backwards, just out of my reach. Great. The tips of my fingers could feel the kid's jaw, and I could even feel its perfectly formed teeth. But I couldn't seem to get a grip on the kid's head. The temperature outside dipped as the sun went down. The husband hooked a light up for us, illuminating the small hay shed that we were working in. Little children watched us work, and frequently asked, "Is the kid born yet?" "When will the kid be born?" I was tired. My arm hurt. I had blood all over me. I couldn't get the head...

A quick dinner break was taken at 7 p.m. The doe was still out there, with the kid's two legs protruding from her. I was out of ideas; the kid couldn't be pulled out if we couldn't get the head aligned with the legs. We knew by this time that the kid was dead; it was obvious. It was now simply a matter of getting the kid out and trying to save the doe.

Wearily, we went back out... Our numbers were five now, with two husband/wife pairs, and I. We tried pulling the legs and seeing if maybe we could get the kid out without aligning the head. Nope. The wife who owned the goat went in, and aggressively searched for the head. She found it! Feeling a new surge of energy, we all jumped into action trying to get this baby out. Then we hit the next problem: The birth canal was too small for the kid to come through. We had gotten the head aligned with the legs by now, but the kid was too big to fit through the small area. With all my fingers touching, my hand has a width of about 3 1/2 to 4 inches. I have small hands. But even I had a difficult time getting through the birth canal while dealing with the kid. If my hand could barely fit, how could we possibly expect a kid to come through???

We still tried though. The doe was weakening noticeably now. She was listless and quiet. I knew that even if we did get this kid out, her chances of survival were slim. The clock continued to tick. Time was fleeting, and tonight, time was against us. We were racing the clock now, as the hands inched closer and closer to 9 p.m. I had been working on this doe since 3:30, and had entered her countless time. How much more could she possibly take? Another family came over, unaware of the goat situation at first. The wife happened to be a nurse, so she took a turn with the kid, but had no more luck than we had.

By 8:30, I think we all knew the inevitable: There was no hope. Even if we called a vet out and had him do a C-section, this doe was doomed to die. If not from a uterine infection, then a possibly ripped uterus, retained placenta, or just from exhaustion and dehydration. Her heart was now skipping beats, and her breath was ragged. You can tell when an animal is ready. When you've been around animals for a few years, and you see death over and over, you begin to notice the difference. When an animal is ready to die, there is nothing you can do. They just give up, but they look peaceful about it.

We all tromped inside to talk about the next move. Four of us were for putting her out of her misery, but the wife who owned the goat begged us to keep trying. After a few minutes of debate, someone said to let the "goat girl" make the final decision. I was that "goat girl".

I had been with her all day, they said. I had the last say in the goat's fate. What was the answer? Keep trying to save her, or should they drop her? All eyes were on me now, as they waited for my answer. The wife had tears in her eyes, and walked into a different room. I looked at the husband and said two words: "Drop her."

I rang the goat's death knell with those two words. I am a goat lover in every sense of the word. If I thought there was hope for her, I would have tried to save her. But we had hit the point where it was being cruel to keep messing with the goat. She was just a year old, and this was her first kidding. But I knew in my heart that this was the best decision. She died instantly. Gone are her beautiful honey colored badger stripes...

I got home at 10 p.m. looking like I stepped out from the movie, 'The Patriot'. I was bloody, and I stank of amniotic fluid, manure, blood, and death. A hot shower remedied the smell somewhat, but I don't know if my clothes can be salvaged.

Owning livestock involves a huge amount of responsibility. Things like this happen, and it's up to us to deal with it in the best possible way. Some readers may feel that I made the wrong decision in having the doe put down, but then, they weren't there that night looking at this poor doe. Sometimes we have to make hard decisions in life, and I do regret having to make that one. But I feel it was the right decision.

FARMER

2012-02-17T14:33:00.000-08:00

Image courtesty of Erin Ehnle

So Far So Good

2012-02-17T14:16:00.000-08:00

Today is day #14 since I bred my three rabbits. Typically, on the 10th day you would put the does back in with the buck to see if they conceived or not, but I didn't have time when the tenth day rolled around, so I did it today!

Doe #1, a Californian, was re-bred three days after the initial breeding, so today was more like day #11 into her pregnancy. I gently put her into the cage with Glenstorm the New Zealand/Beveren buck and kept a weather eye on the pair. In her typical fashion that she seems to have, Doe #1 pressed her body on the floor, and didn't budge. She wouldn't allow Glenstorm to re-breed, but she didn't fight him either, which is what most does will do... I took this as a good sign, and pulled her out. I'm putting her due date at March 5th.

Doe #2, my second Californian, who is monstrous in size, was up next. I hadn't even put her in the cage before she started growling! She was definitely NOT interested in Glenstorm, and growled loudly as she ran in circles, away from the eager buck. It was a mess trying to keep Glenstorm off her and try and fish her out at the same time! So I would say there's a very high chance that she's preggo, and I'm keeping her due date at the original March 3rd.

Rosie Cotton, the New Zealand, was last. I had bred her with Basil Stag Hare, the Californian buck, so back in with him she went.

I can honestly say in my eight years of rabbit raising I have never seen a doe react like Rosie did. If that girl ain't pregnant then I'm a monkey's uncle. When I put Rosie in with Basil, she took one look at him, screamed (it sounds like a horse whinnying) and lunged at him. Basil backed into a corner, confused at the onslaught and started running when Rosie bit him on the ear. Funny what those hormones will do to an animal.... LOL. I actually had to pull Rosie off of Basil, and she still growled and fumed for five minutes after she was back in her cage! Ya' think she's pregnant???

Satisfied with the test results, I braved the ill-humored does and did the next step: palpation. This is actually pretty fun once you get the hang of it, but it's basically just where you gently feel the doe's stomach and count the growing embryos. Doe #1 isn't far along enough for me to palpate her, but I was able to feel 6 or 7 kits in Rosie, and at least four kits in Doe #2. Alas, Doe #2 was extremely uncooperative, and vehemently fought against my advances, so for all I know she could have ten kits in there! But at least I know that there's something in there, so I'm content.

Now y'all stay tuned! Baby bunnies are on the way!! I'll be keeping a lot of does for future breeding stock, and I might keep a buck or two, but we'll see.

Does anyone else here raise rabbits?

Stand Tall

2012-02-16T11:46:00.000-08:00

I do not like confrontations.

When I first started blogging, almost six years ago, I made sure to never write a post that might offend someone. I wanted people to like my blog, and I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. So my first blog was -- boring. Seriously boring. When I morphed over to this blog, I decided enough was enough; if I step on toes, I will apologize for doing that, but I will not apologize for my own personal opinions and beliefs. I did however, wonder how I would handle negative comments from readers. I had never had that, and part of me wondered if I would react badly to the situation. I've watched Jenna Woginrich over at Cold Antler Farm handle her amount of flack with impressive grace; that woman has more patience that I could ever have! But could I handle negative remarks in the same manner?

Well, as of today I have found the answer to my questions, and that is: I really don't mind it.

Apparently one of my blog posts on Mother Earth News has a few people up in arms over my writing. The content of their words was no where near what Jenna has been enduring, but they were accusations none the less. I thought about how to reply to these, and I actually found myself grateful for these people.

You can take negative comments in two ways: You can take it personally, and become angry, which might result in an angry reply. Or, you can take a moment and evaluate your writing. Was it correct? Are they right? Is there a foundation to their concerns? When I read the comments of concern from my readers it caused me to not only look hard at my writing, but it spurred me into a flurry of research. I spent about 45 minutes researching what the uproar was about. Reading, delving, questioning, learning....

And the result of the flack that I received is not only that I know a bit more goat history now, but I can stand behind my writing with confidence. I will answer the comments and questions from others with politeness, and am more than willing to share why I wrote what I wrote with them. But I will not change my words so that no one is offended. Truth hurts sometimes. And sometimes we need it to hurt. I will stand tall in the face of disparaging remarks and negative comments. If I find that I am indeed in the wrong, then I will change what needs to be changed and offer my apologies where it is needed. But I will not apologize for being honest.

If I Could Make A Wish...

2012-02-15T07:38:00.000-08:00

Well, there would actually be a lot of things I would wish for, if I could make a wish...

But that fact aside, if I had the money, or if I could make a wish, I sure wish I could bring this lovely colt home!!

http://salem.craigslist.org/grd/2799673153.html

A three year old, paint colt who's been trained for cart work! He's been started, and I would love nothing more than to finish him. :) Hey, a girl can dream, right?

Registered

2012-02-14T20:22:00.000-08:00

Well folks, I finally registered for one of the upcoming conferences.

If you remember, there were two to choose from and both were on the same day: A goat conference, in which you learn all things "goat". And a small farms conference, in which you learn the nuts and bolts of running a small farm.

So which did I choose?

In the end, I chose the farming conference. And I am pleased with the choice. Farming is my occupation; it only makes sense to further my education and better learn the "whys and wherefores" of it. I am really looking forward to going, and even better, I will be tagging along with my dear friend from over at Rural Legacy! (click link to go to her blog) We're going to head over to Corvallis on Friday and stay the night in a hotel before adventuring on the the conference. Two crazy farm gals in the same hotel room.... Hmmm, do you think we'll sleep at all?? LOL. It'll be fun. I'm excited. :)

I'll be sure to let y'all know how it goes! And hey, if you're there too, just look for the girl wearing the teal colored Polyface Farm T-shirt that proudly says "Lunatic Farmer" on the front. That'll be me. ;) Hehe.

Toodle pip and cheerio now!

Have I Ever Mentioned....

2012-02-14T18:27:00.000-08:00

That I love Ivy's badger stripes? :)

I guess I'm kinda' partial to badger stripes on my goats...

Quiet Inside

2012-02-13T20:32:00.000-08:00

All day long I have been telling myself I need sit down and write today's blog post. Just sit down, and type... But my mind has been in too much of a whirl. I have been working on my first book proposal, content outline, and have been working away on the manuscript itself. I have spun a skein of yarn, and knitted a chicken. Heidi and Ivy are in heat today, and I mourned the fact that I won't be getting a buck until next Sunday. At this rate I may not have goat kids until August!! My mind has been going at what seems like 120 mph... Going, going, going. Plotting, scheming, wondering... I was in no frame of mind to sit down and write a coherent post!

I went out to do evening barn chores, in the same hurried, absent-minded way.

Until I went into the rabbitry.

I can't think of a single time that the rabbits haven't managed to calm and focus me.

They're so quiet, it gives me cause to be quiet. My goats are talkative, so I am talkative with them. They yell when they see me leave, and I holler goodbye to them. The rabbits though, make no noise whatsoever, save the soft sound of their feet on the wire...

Silence.

I give each rabbit food and water for the night; noting that Doe #2 is getting noticeably rounder, which means that she is harboring babies in her womb. Rosie Cotton, the New Zealand also is getting larger. This will be her maiden litter, and I hope that her instincts will kick in.

It is dark in the rabbitry... I have no electricity in there, and there is no moon tonight.

Dark.

Quiet.

Still.

I have no choice but to move slowly in with the rabbits. I can see nothing in there, and swift movements would not only put myself at risk, but it would startle the rabbits.

I must force myself to be calm and slow. After eight years of doing this work, my movements are repetitive and natural. Inhale, exhale. Camillo, my youngest buck nuzzles my hand as I give him his dinner. Glenstorm dances in crazy circles, impatient for his pellets.

My work in the rabbitry takes ten minutes. Ten minutes to cause me to slow down and relax... I sit now in my comfy swivel chair, with a cup of tea next to me. I think I will watch my Polyface Farm DVD tonight before heading off to bed.

I am quiet inside now. I have the rabbits to thank for that...

Random One-Liners

2012-02-12T20:43:00.000-08:00

Ninety-nine percent of lawyers give the rest a bad name.

Borrow money from a pessimist -- they don't expect it back.

Time is what keeps things from happening all at once.

Lottery: a tax on people who are bad at math.

I didn't fight my way to the top of the food chain to be a vegetarian.

Never answer an anonymous letter.

I don't suffer from insanity; I enjoy every minute of it.

Always go to other people's funerals, or they won't go to yours.

Few women admit their age; few men act it.

If we aren't supposed to eat animals, why are they made with meat?

No one is listening until you make a mistake.

Give me ambiguity or give me something else.

We have enough youth. How about a fountain of "Smart"?

He who laughs last thinks slowest.

Campers: Nature's way of feeding mosquitoes.

Always remember that you are unique; just like everyone else.

Consciousness: That annoying time between naps.

There are three kinds of people: Those who can count, and those who can't.

Why is "abbreviation" such a long word?

I started out with nothing, and I still have most of it.

Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.

Out of my mind. Back in five minutes.

A clear conscience is a sign of a bad memory.

As long as there are tests, there will be prayer in school.

Sometimes I wake up grumpy; other times I let her sleep.

The severity of the itch is inversely proportional to the ability to reach it.

You can't have everything. Where would you put it?

I took an IQ test and the results were negative.

Okay, who stopped the payment on my reality check?

47.2 percent of all statistics are made up on the spot.

If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried.

My mind is like a steel trap: Rusty and illegal in 37 states.

Nothing is fool proof to a sufficiently talented fool.

On the other hand, you have different fingers.

I've only been wrong once, and that's when I thought I was wrong.

I don't find it hard to meet expenses. They're everywhere.

I let my mind wander, and it didn't come back.

Don't steal. The government hate competition.

If you don't like the news, go out and make some.

IRS: We've got what it takes to take what you've got.

I'm out of bed and dressed. What more do you want?

Confession

2012-02-11T20:35:00.000-08:00

I am afraid of the dark.

Period.

Exclamation point.

One glance outside showed that it was darker than the inside of a cow tonight. I decided to take a flashlight with me (something I normally don't do), as I went to do barn chores. My strobe of light pierced the blackness, as I walked towards my destination; its brightness working its way from left to right across the topography of our small farm. I was a little on edge tonight; for the past four nights the goats have been in the barn acting excessively spooked, and Heidi would repeatedly stare into the darkness, at a far pasture corner, before bolting to a corner in the barn. Unnerving, to say in the least!

I shined the flashlight into the pasture as I walked towards the barn, and stopped so suddenly that one might have thought I hit a brick wall. In the glare of my light, four pairs of eerily green eyes were staring at me. Like some sort of halloween stunt, the eyes began bobbing and moving closer towards me.

"Holy cow!" I exclaimed to myself, "There's something out there!!"

With no bidding on my part, I felt a huge surge of adrenaline wash over me, and for a moment I thought I was going to throw up. I don't handle adrenaline well. The eyes were getting closer now, but I couldn't seem to get my light to shine on the bodies that belonged to the glowing orbs. My pulse rate shot up, and the "flee or fight" instinct started welling inside me. My guess was that it was a small group of coyotes looking for a meal, and they were in my pasture.

With shaky hands, I finally managed to angle my flashlight onto the creatures in the short distance and before me, my eyes I beheld....

The goats.

Duh.

I could now make out Pepper blinking from my light's glare, and Heidi giving me a withering glance. I exhaled in relief and then yelled at Heidi, telling her to quit freaking me out, for Pete's sake!!

Good heavens... Talk about a climax to one's day!

Heads Up

2012-02-11T09:36:00.000-08:00

Just wanted to let y'all know that my weekly blog post over at Mother Earth News is up and view-able. :) Those of you who have been around here at 'To Sing With Goats' will recognize it, but I figured it was info that would still be helpful to the masses, so I re-posted it over there. I had an entirely different subject that I had planned on writing about, but that article is still in the works [smacks forehead]. Hopefully it'll be ready by next week!

You can read this week's post by clicking HERE.

In The Book Crate This Month

2012-02-10T15:35:00.000-08:00

Confession: I am not a fiction person. ;) I enjoy learning too much, I guess...

Begin It Now

2012-02-10T14:16:00.000-08:00

“ A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising

in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and

meetings and material assistance, which no man could

have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you

can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has

genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now.”

– Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust and

W.H. Murray, The Scottish Himalaya Expedition

Just So

2012-02-10T12:25:00.000-08:00

"Four to seven in the morning, then a full day of work, then five to eight at night. The chores. Milking. And it became more than work, became something of spirit or grace, almost a benediction.

Out to the barn to feed hay and silage and clean the gutters and start milking.

Not with machines.

By hand.

Much is made of bonds between man and animals, horses, dogs. But this is beyond that. The milk stool is set just so and the forehead is put into the soft warm spot where the cow's gut meets her back leg so that the stomach rumbles and gurgles as part of the person's thinking, breathing, low sounds and the hands work in a rhythm perhaps as old as all rhythms, the movement that is the giving of milk, so that the person becomes the calf and the cow the mother and the milk hisses and sputters into the bucket, into the white foam, unless the barn cat sitting in the aisle begs by sitting up and waving its front paws like a small bear. Then the stream is aimed and squirted into the cat's mouth, a quick move from the rhythm and back while the cat gulps and jumps up to sit on the cow's back to clean itself, the same back where it sleeps in the winter nights to stay warm."

~Excerpt from 'Clabbered Dirt, Sweet Grass' by Gary Paulsen

I love this little blurb from Gary Paulsen's book. He has captured the very essence of milking. This is what it's all about; you can't capture the same moments and emotions by using a milking machine. No, it has to be by hand. The milking stool is set "just so", and you lean into your dairy animal's warm, breathing side. You are lost in a trance. A meditation. A prayer. Like the ticking of the hands on a clock, the pulsing of milk going into a pail keeps time. Hiss, hiss, hiss, goes your dairy clock. Time is ticking... Enjoy the peace while you can. Some are called to prayer by the sound of a bell, others by the bellow of a dairy animal. It is time, they both say. Time to slip into a moment of nothingness and simply be.

The last stream of milk is procured from her udder, and the moment is over. The 'Amen' is unconsciously spoken or thought. The prayer has ended. You breathe deeply, say 'thank you' to your animal, and you both part for the time being. Part until twelve hours have passed and you meet again to pick up where you left off.

You meet again, and the milk stool is set just so....

The Doe's Secret Code of Honor

2012-02-08T19:10:00.000-08:00

I got a good chuckle out of this Youtube. It's so true that it's almost scary. Oh what we poor goatherds go through during kidding season...

To Remember Lancaster By

2012-02-08T18:48:00.000-08:00

My one, lone picture that I got while in Amish country...

I absolutely loved getting to see the Amish people with their horses and buggies! Oh how I wish we could use that style of transportation here in Oregon...

Polyface -- Day 4

2012-02-06T20:34:00.000-08:00

I panicked when I woke up on Friday. I was so sore and stiff that I couldn't move any part of my body. I lay in bed, frantically trying to figure out what to do, and hoping dearly that I wouldn't have to holler for Lydia to help me up. Then my cell phone's alarm went off; it was 6:45 a.m. I had exactly 15 minutes before I needed to be outside. Outside to do morning chores for the very last time...

After about two minutes, I finally managed to heave myself out of the little bed, and then limped around as fast as I could; trying to locate my hat and leather gloves in pale morning light. I was dressed and ready in record time. I even beat Lydia, who had gotten up before me. Chores were blissfully the same. I love habit. I hauled 40 lbs. of chicken feed and 20 lbs. of oats to the chickens; saying "Hello" and "Goodbye" to the rabbits as I passed them. I threw hay to the hogs for what would be my last time, and smiled at their soft snorts and squeals. Michael the dog tagged along with me, Lydia and Leanna as we finished up what we needed to do.

Breakfast was relatively quiet that morning, as we ate with Theresa. Joel had left earlier to fly to California to speak at some sort of conference, so it was just us girls that day.

When we finished eating and cleaning up, Lydia said goodbye.... Her time was up, just like mine was, and she was going back home. That was hard... We had just been together for the last 90+ hours, and now we would most likely never see each other again. I still don't know what her last name was, and she doesn't know mine. Lydia, if you ever stumble upon this little blog of mine, I MISS YOU!!!

But there was no time right then to feel glum, there were still jobs to do outside!! Everyone who was left gathered 'round the walk-in freezer, and we waited for Eric and Noah to arrive with twenty thousand pounds of frozen chicken. Our job was to move all that chicken into the freezer. Noah arrived with his truck load first, and like a band of ants we got busy! There were only nine of us, so we lined up Navy-style and formed a chain. Admittedly, it took us awhile to get a rhythm going, and for everyone to find a good spot, but we did eventually get going smoothly! Box after box was stacked at the back of the freezer... Light ones weighed 40 lbs. and heavy boxes weighed 60 lbs. or more. The thermometer in the freezer read 0 degrees. Cold. It was 23 degrees outside and that suddenly seemed balmy and warm to those of us who were in the freezer. Our breath was visible in ragged puffs, and we were all wishing for a tissue. After twenty minutes of working, my soreness either wore off, or I just no longer noticed it. We worked quickly; warning the next person in line of the weight of the box. I must admit that I was extremely grateful for the spot I was in. Ches was in front of me, and when he had a particularly heavy box (like, over 60 lbs.) he would bypass me and hand the box to Shrader, the next guy in line who was behind me. My conscience nagged at me a bit for allowing Ches to do that, after all I was at the farm purely to work, but I really was grateful for the small courtesy. We were all a team that morning. Everyone helped everyone, and together we stacked all 20,000 lbs. of food!! Awesome! When we came out of the freezer, we all took off our hats, gloves and coats. Twenty three degrees suddenly seemed almost unbearably warm.

It was eleven 'o' clock when we finished in the freezer. It had only taken us two hours, which surprised me. With the job now over, Jeremy got ready to leave. His flight back to Texas was taking off in just a few hours, so he had to get a move on. Another round of handshakes went through and as I said goodbye he curiously asked why I wasn't coming too. I was leaving today as well, why wasn't I on the same departure flight as him? Yes, I was leaving today, but not by plane. I was awaiting the arrive of my Aunt and Uncle who would be taking me to Maryland with them until the next week. I half wished I was going on the same flight though... At least then there would have been a familiar face around as I once again navigated the monstrous sized Atlanta airport!!

For the next 20 minutes, Daniel showed the rest of us around their processing shed, and we all talked about butchering. Then everyone got ready to head back up to the woodlot and clear some more wood.

Except me.

Now it was my turn to say goodbye to everyone. My Aunt and Uncle would arrive at any time, so I had to stay behind. I hugged the girls and shook hands with the guys. Savannah and I tried not to cry. I don't know her last name either, come to think of it... In fact I don't know anyone's last names, except the Salatin's of course, and Eric's. We were all on a first-name basis but none of us ever mentioned last names.

Watching everyone leave in the tractor was one of the hardest things I have ever done. More than anything, I wanted to run after them and join them. I would willingly to the work all over again!! I slowly walked back to Grandma's house to pack my things up. Grandma had already left, so I left a note saying thank-you. When I finished, I went to wait with Theresa...

Now, I really was quite excited to get to stay with my Aunt and Uncle. We were going to go to Lancaster, Baltimore, D.C., and all sorts of other neat places! But I must admit that my excitement was rather dampened that morning. I wanted to stay at Polyface.

My Aunt and Uncle arrived soon after, and we eventually loaded up in the car and began driving away. The others had just come down from the woodlot, and were unloading their haul as we passed them. I leaned out my window and shouted goodbye. They all waved and shouted back, and that was finale of my visit... Nothing grand. Nothing huge. Just friends saying goodbye for what would mostly likely be the last time.

Everyone working on wood.

I cried that night. I was now in Maryland with my Aunt and Uncle, and I was homesick. I had never been homesick before, but I was sure feeling the effects now! I cried and cried and cried... I wanted to go home to Polyface. I missed everything about it; I even missed hearing the TV blaring at 2 in the morning because Grandma had forgotten to turn it off. I missed Michael, the hogs and the cows. I missed the Salatins and all the employees there. I missed Savannah and Lydia. I felt ridiculous for crying. I never cry, and here I was bawling like a baby! But I couldn't help myself. I knew that there was a high chance I wouldn't return there, and now I know that I won't.

Polyface definitely made an impact on me, and changed me. As I think about it, the biggest change I see is probably just how I view tasks. Before going to Polyface, I always unconsciously divided jobs into A. something I could do. Or B. a job for the guys to do. Things like hammering, heavy lifting and other things like that were always on my mental list of "guy jobs". Now, I view every task as something that simply needs to be done, and it's my job to see that it gets done. I definitely have more confidence in myself now, and hopefully it'll stick around and not slowly dissipate. I learned about teamwork at the farm, and what it feels like to be in a close-knit family. I learned what it means to go above and beyond the call of duty, and how to stick to a task no matter what. I learned many tips and tricks in the farming trade, and I am excited to implement them here in Oregon. My tears are gone now. I can cry no more for Polyface. I don't think I will ever go back to that little farm in Swoope, Virginia, but I am so thankful for the four days I had there. It was a blast. :)

Thus ends my Polyface Farms saga.

How Does One Choose?

2012-02-05T15:55:00.000-08:00

Oh the agony.... I just learned the Oregon State University is hosting a 'Small Farms Conference' this month, and it looks great! The problem? It's being held on the exact same day as the Northwest Oregon Dairy Goat Conference. ARGH!!! I can't decide which one I should try and go to!!!!

The dairy goat conference looks all around awesome, and there is a ton that I could and would learn... How to do AI on my own goats, advanced cheesemaking (taught by Gianaclis Caldwell!!), Owning and training a LGD, herbal remedies for goats, marketing raw milk in the Northwest, how to do a proper fecal test, how to process a goat, training a draft goat, pasture management.... Wow, I get excited just thinking about learning all of that!

But then I look at the Small Farms conference and all that it has to offer, and I wonder if maybe I shouldn't go to that instead... Perhaps I would benefit more by learning more farm business skills, then I would increasing my goat knowledge? One thing that has intrigued me is that Kristin Kimball, author of 'The Dirty Life', is going to be a speaker there! I have to admit that I would be tickled to meet Kristin in person... ;)

So here I be: sitting quietly on the outside, but writhing in indecision on the inside! Why on earth did they have to make both conferences be on the same day!? Don't they know that we goat people want to learn the nitty-gritty farm stuff, and the farmers want to learn the goat stuff?!?! Good heavens... I'm already not very good at making decisions, and this is almost too much.

Which would YOU choose?

Sunrise at 20,000 feet

2012-02-04T18:12:00.000-08:00

These pictures were taken on my way to Virginia. :) We were flying over Colorado as the sun rose.

Feelin' Good

2012-02-04T15:52:00.000-08:00

I feel good right now.

The day started out with feelings of Barnheart and cabin fever. The morning had burst gloriously with balmy, 55 degree weather, startlingly blue skies, and endless possibilities for the day. But I was inside. Stressing myself out over minuscule matters that won't even be relevant until late summer. I was listening to gloomy music on my MP3, and feeling like a heritage turkey crammed into a canary's cage.

I needed to get outside. Jenna Woginrich says the best way to cure Barnheart is through direct, tangible, intentional actions, so I set out to do that!

What started out as a ho-hum morning, has turned into a wonderful day. I bred my three rabbits, and with luck I'll have three litters of newborn kits (term for baby rabbit) around March 3rd. That's a grand thought, having that much meat on the way. I have been trying and failing all winter to get my does bred, and I knew they wouldn't breed because of the dark winter days.... But I kept on trying. Today things were a breeze, and all the girls were bred in less than five minutes. My Californian does were bred to Glenstorm, the dashing black New Zealand/Beveren. And Rosie Cotton, the New Zealand, was bred to Basil Stag Hare, my hefty Californian boy. Poor Camillo, my youngest Cali buck, looked on in disappointment, as he realized that he wouldn't get a doe that day.

With future litters planned out and put underway, I next grabbed my trusty pitchfork and set out to the delightful task of forking the ground in my garden. This year I'm going small. Just a little 10'x20' plot next to the barn is all I have, but I think it'll be enough. This little plot was an eyesore for years, as it hosted weeds and stones. It couldn't be tilled, and there was no topsoil on it. Once upon a time it had been a pig pen; now it was just a wrecked piece of land. Last year I started laying down two feet of compost over the plot. Using something along the lines of Patricia Lanza's "Lasagna Gardening" technique, I layered manure, hay, leaves, and grass clippings all over the wounded soil, and planted pumpkins there. While last year's summer weather was too cool for the pumpkins to grow, the plant's foliage was amazing! So all throughout the fall and winter, I've been laying down more compost. This little garden is healing, slowly but surely.

Today was my first time to see the fruits of my labor. I had laid down yet another two feet, and then left the worms to go to work. But what would I find beneath the quiet top layer? Had it composted enough that I would be able to plant in just a few short weeks? I speared a forkful of the organic material with my pitchfork, and flipped it upside down. I squealed with delight over what I saw next! It's perfect!! My eyes beheld what was now soil. Black as night, peppered liberally with healthy, writhing earthworms, and a texture like freshly baked cake. I had put my "special compost" on the garden last fall, which consists of well rotted goat manure and alfalfa hay. That combo rots down faster than you would believe, and the result is a compost so rich and soft that it brings tears to any gardener's eyes.

I excitedly turned the entire plot over, forking beautiful loads of black soil, and marveling at the enormous amount of earthworms in one spot!!! Joel Salatin would be proud of me. ;) The afternoon was warm, and I soon shrugged my Carhartt off; proudly wearing my teal colored, Polyface Farms T-shirt that I had gotten while in Virginia. The words "Lunatic Farmer" are emblazoned on the front of the shirt, and on the back it says, "Healing The Land, One Bite At A Time." I love this shirt...

The goats were complaining for attention by the time I finished in the garden, so I worked on trimming hooves, washing and re-filling their mineral feeders, and applying their spring-time dusting of D.E. (Diatomaceous Earth). Poppet thoroughly enjoyed her pedicure, lolling lazily on my lap (why can't the Nubians be that calm??) and winking her blue eyes at me. I hadn't planned on breeding any of my goats this year, but now that I have my summer available, I think I will! A friend offered to let me use her handsome buck for free (I LOVE his pedigree!!!), so he'll be coming up in the next week or so. Hurray!! Baby goats!! The thought of having velvety nosed, elfin kids dancing around the place is enough to make me want to burst. There is nothing in life that can compare to a newborn goat kid. If you don't believe me, then you obviously haven't had the experience of being around one yet. [wink] :)

And let's not forget that baby goat kids also mean that I'll be milking again! HOORAH!!! I can't wait to begin the methodical milking chores again!

Doing all of this wonderful work has helped me re-focus. I get so depressed when I'm not doing something physical outside... This is going to be a beautiful year. Yes, I am still extremely disappointed that I did not get the Polyface internship, but I can't let that ruin my year. It's time to stand up and shake off. Time to move onwards and see what will happen in 2012. I'm ready. Gardens will be planted. Animals will be born. Knowledge will be learned and taught. Things will happen. Let's see what comes of this crazy farmgirl's efforts!!

CHARGE!!!

Don't ask. You don't want to know. ;)

Start Small

2012-02-02T17:25:00.000-08:00

Me. Leaving Polyface Farms.

Plan A, which was going to Polyface for the summer, has failed. Now it's time to fall back on Plan B.

Question is, what is Plan B?

I've been mulling that answer over since Monday, which is when I first learned the news about not getting the internship. My summer was suddenly open, and I was as free as a bird. What a terrifying thought!! I'm the sort of person who has to have a job. I need to know that I have work to do, or else I go insane. So I put on my well-worn and somewhat battered thinking cap, and began hatching plots.

I had a lot of ideas. Big ones. I was ready to build my own utopia; one that included cattle, hogs, sheep, goats, chickens, and dogs. Someone just hand me a hammer!

And then I plunked down to reality. A wise cattleman, whom I met in Maryland offered me a golden piece of timeless advice: "Start small." I don't know how many times I've heard, or been told that, but each time it always brings me to my senses. I want to do it all NOW!! I'm not a patient person, and the ache to be out moving cattle, and feeding hogs is intense. Someday I want the whole shebang: The herd of cattle, flock of sheep, hogs, dairy and meat goats, draft animals, a market garden, a line of customers.... But that's still the future. And I'm still here in the present. [big sigh]

Once I had floated down to normalcy, I began thinking logically. Yes, I actually am capable of such a thing. After awhile, and with the advice of some friends, I had my battle plan. Well, at least it's an attempt of a battle plan. This year will be small in my eyes, but it should be enough to keep me contentedly busy. I'll let y'all in on the scheme once the kinks have been worked out, and it's been give the "okay" from higher ranks (AKA, parents.).

What are your plans for 2012? Are you planning your first garden? Getting chickens? Starting a cattle ranch? Sourcing local food? I would love to hear your plans, hopes and dreams!

It's Official

2012-02-01T13:25:00.000-08:00

Life takes interesting twists and turns. Things that I want to happen, don't come to pass; and things I wasn't expecting, plop into my lap. While I have yet to have any of my articles published in a magazine, I've been receiving pretty good feedback, and opportunities from various places in regards to my work. Which is enough to keep me going, and still look forward to the day of being published. ;)

Back in November, I submitted and article to Mother Earth News to consider. I had my fingers crossed that maybe this would be my breakthrough. Maybe this would be my first article to be published!

It didn't quite happen. The editor at Mother Earth News loved the article, but said it was too short (I think it was like 430 words, and they wanted 500?), and they rarely accepted submissions from their readers. They liked my style though, so they offered a different proposition: They asked me to be a blogger for Mother Earth News!!! :)

I was delighted with the offer, and accepted immediately. And as of today, I am now officially a blogger for them! Whoohoo!

I'll be writing weekly posts over at the 'Caprine Community' (all things "goat"!) http://www.motherearthnews.com/blogs/blog.aspx?blogid=2147484735 , and who knows? Maybe someday I'll work my way over to other blogs as well. This isn't a paid job, but I'm okay with that. The exposure alone is enough to satisfy me; I think this will be an excellent way to hone in on my writing skills (which still lack greatly!), and it'll be fun to write for such a wide pool of readers. :)

But don't worry, I'll still be typing away, here at 'To Sing With Goats'. I'm not going anywhere....

Polyface -- Day 3

2012-01-31T12:35:00.000-08:00

While it has become painful for me to relate my Polyface tales, knowing that I will most likely never return there, I know that my own memory won't remember the small details of the visit in a few years time. So I shall finish up my adventure, in spite of the heartache....

Thursday morning found me feeling sore, and with a headache. Nice way to start the day. Lydia admitted to being sore as well, and we both took some painkiller before heading outside. She took two pills, I took three. ;) Morning chores were just the same as the day before. Scattering oats, filling feeders and waterers, throwing hay to the hogs, and seeing to the rabbits. While throwing oats in hoop house #3, my boot kicked something hard. I looked down, and to my surprise I found that I had just kicked a rib cage; the remains of a deer carcass that had been thrown in for the chickens. As I looked into the rest of the hoop houses, I saw other random bits of the same deer. One hoop house had the legs, one had the neck/head, one had the extra bits... Since the chickens stay "cooped up" (couldn't resist. LOL.) during the winter, they don't get the protein that they do in the summer (in the form of insects and carrion). So the Salatins provide raw meat for all the birds, to insure that they still get the protein. I must say the chickens did an excellent job at cleaning those bones.... LOL.

On our way up to Sheri and Daniel's house to have breakfast, Lydia and I met Michael. Swoon, faint; what a cute guy. Oh, and let's not forget the adjectives 'big', 'handsome', and 'friendly'. ;)

Okay, okay... Truth be told, Michael is actually a dog. A BIG dog, at that!! Sorry to disappoint, if you were thinking it was a human I was pertaining to. Hehe. Michael is one of Polyface's three "LGD's" (Livestock Guardian Dogs), and is a monstrous sized, white Anatolian/Akbash cross. I'm 5'7", and Michael's head came up just past my hips. Big guy. While he is fiercely protective of his territory at night, he is a friendly, people-loving galoot during the day. Whenever he hears the tractor being fired up, he is right there, waiting to head out with you to do the latest farm job. Which is exactly what he did, as everyone loaded up into the tractor trailer to start clearing the woodlot, after breakfast...

Michael has been clocked at running 35 mph, and he certainly had no trouble loping alongside the rumbling tractor as we climbed uphill.

That day, I worked harder than I ever have in my entire life. Picking up and throwing huge stumps into the trailer bed; running enormous branches and tree tops through the chipper; bending, stooping, lifting, chucking.... Hour after hour, after hour. You work at a frantic pace, trying to keep the chipper fed, and attempting to make a dent in the workload. You find yourself working so hard that you think you're going to be sick. Then you find yourself working so hard that you wish you would be sick, since that might grant you a few moment to rest. After a few hours, your mind takes on a different view of looking at wood. You no longer see something as "too big for me to pull", but instead look at it as "that needs to come out next, and I have to move it." I took on a two-word motto that day: Just pull.

While tackling huge tree tops that were almost too heavy for me, I learned to simply put one foot in front of the other. I mentally chanted, "Just pull. Just pull." as I felt the limbs beginning to move, and after awhile it actually became a rather addicting bit of work. I grew to enjoy that feeling of a heavy, inanimate object beginning to slide and shudder, as you shoulder the work like a draft horse. We all worked like a team though, and kept a watchful eye on each other. If someone had a branch that was too big for them alone, someone would jump in and help. More than once I gratefully sighed as Ches, Geoffrey (who was from Africa and had just come as we started our work), or Lydia came to my assistance when my "just pull" motto failed me.

One 'o' clock came, and Daniel declared lunch break for the guys while the girls stayed and worked a bit more.

Noooooooooo!!!

The guys get to have lunch break first!?!?! And we girls have to stay behind and keep working!?

Then it got better as Daniel pointed at where we would be working: A small gully lay ahead, and it was filled with large branches and tree tops. Neither the chipper, nor the tractor could get in there, so our job was to get down there and pull those hefty pieces of wood out.

We girls were too tired to sound enthusiastic, so we mentally buckled down, and went back to work.

I swear those guys took an extra long lunch break on purpose.

That gully actually proved to be rather fun in the end. I squirreled my way down to the bottom, jumping and balancing on branches, before working on getting each branch pulled away from the mass, and sent up to the other girls (Lydia, Savannah, and Leanna) who were keeping the chipper fed. Daniel worked his forklift a few dozen yards away; moving logs into a pile. Staying true to my typical fashion of working style, I burned out after about 30 minutes of working down in the gully. I have never been very good at pacing myself, and always throw myself headlong into whatever I'm doing. Down in the gully, I had been pulling branches out at a pace fast enough to keep three girls hopping; now I was paying for it. We all switched spots, and now the three girls were handing me branches, and I was feeding the chipper. On went the work, until a glorious sight met our eyes: The guys were back. Whoohoo!!! Leanna turned the chipper off, and the silence seemed deafening at first. The guys surveyed our progress and Eric made our day by saying, "Wow, you gals got a lot done. Good job!" The others nodded in agreement.

The four of us beamed as much as one can when you're exhausted and starving, and then turned to go have our lunch break. Sitting down had never seemed to delightful to me. As we drove up to Daniel's house to have lunch, I became aware of a painful sensation on my shins. I had been wearing my jeans tucked into my boots, so I assumed the pain was from all the chafing, and promptly ignored the problem.

After lunch, everyone gathered 'round to discuss the next project. Daniel decided to split the group into thirds. Group #1 would go gather and wash eggs (which amounted to 10 dozen!), group #2 would go lay down fresh bedding in the cow barn, and group #3 would start building pig gates. I was more than grateful when I found I was chosen to go to the cow barn... No hammers involved there!

Before everyone scattered, we all said goodbye to Ben. His time at the farm was up, and he was headed back to Oregon. I don't like it when people leave....

After many handshakes and well-wishes to Ben, Savannah, Lydia, Jeremy, and I, found ourselves headed to the cow barn on the tractor, with Daniel driving. I am ashamed however, to say that I was so sore (painkiller had worn off!) that I couldn't get up on the tractor. [blush, blush]. Jeremy had to give me a hand and help pull me up (what a pal... LOL.). Work in the cow barn went a little slower than it normally might have, as the four of us dealt with aching muscles. While I can normally pick up a 60 lb. hay bale in each hand, I was finding to my dismay that I could barely pick up one bale with both hands! But even if we were a little sluggish, the work got done, and soon the cows had a thick layer of bedding awaiting them. I borrowed Daniel's pocket knife as I went to go cut the baling twine that held the gate closed, and the cows out of the barn. As I walked to the end of the barn to let them all in, Daniel jokingly hollered at me to "not lose his good knife." I laughed and told him I wouldn't. The afore mentioned twine was cut, and 50 huge beef cows thundered all around me, as they eagerly went to check out their new digs. That was a neat experience, being in such close proximity to flying bovine heels, and dodging being trampled. After some slow maneuvering, I managed to get out of the pen, and immediately went to give Daniel his pocket knife back. Or, I started to at least. I realized in horror that I had lost a leather work glove, AND Daniel's knife somewhere in the throng of those beef cows, and I had no idea where they were. In a panic, I jumped over the gate and began frantically searching for the knife. I had to slap cow rumps and and was continuously saying, "Move over, Beef." (for some reason I just called 'em all "Beef") The cows were nervous with me winding through their pen, and I had to watch out for the rambunctious steers who were more than willing to kick me. The glove was found halfway down the pen; mucked up, and filthy. But where WAS that knife??? I was just about to give up and buy Daniel a new one, when my eye caught a glint of metal, in the midst of mud and muck. The knife was right where I had opened the gate, and a huge cow was about to step on it. "HEY!! BEEF!!" I shouted, and dived towards the bovine. My ploy worked, and the startled animal sped back in reverse. Ha ha! Victory!! The knife was disgusting, and I certainly wasn't looking forward to showing Daniel, but at least I had it. Thankfully, Daniel had the patience of a Saint, and simply hosed the knife off before sticking it back in his pocket.

When we got back to the farmyard, Daniel told us we would join group #3 in building gates. I groaned inwardly; there was no way of getting out of the job. Savannah went to go help wash eggs, which left Lydia and I to fumble on our own amidst the guys who were expertly going about the work. I tried telling Daniel about my severe lack of skills when a hammer was involved, but he simply laughed and said, "Show me." as he handed me a hammer and a nail. Lydia and I looked at each other, and then started. We both bent our nails. And then we bent the next ones. And the next ones. I watched in amusement as Daniel's 6 year old son, Andrew, hammered his nails in straight. That just didn't seem fair.... A six year old was doing better than I was! I think I must have ruined five nails when I threw down my hammer in discouragement. I asked Noah if I could admit defeat; I didn't want to completely ruin their gates! Noah smiled, handed me my hammer back, and gave me another nail. "You're doing good," He said, "You just need to keep on practicing." Noah and I repeated that sequence three more times, as I tried giving up. But slowly, I started seeing a change. I got my first nail to go in straight.

And then a second nail went in straight.

And then a third.

I smiled to myself as my hands finally figured out what they were supposed to be doing, and soon I was wailing on those nails as hard and fast as the guys! Whoohoo! Noah grinned as he looked on. "See?" He remarked, "I told you, you just needed practice." My arms were beyond aching as we put together 10 gates. I had been working since 7 a.m. and it was now 5 p.m. It felt like they were going to fall off, or like at any moment they would just stop working. I felt like a mechanical robot. As we neared the last gate for the day, my movements were becoming increasingly jerky. When we finally finished, I found that my hand wouldn't open up to let go of the hammer. It was so sore and stiff that I had to pry the hammer out with my other hand.

Lydia and I leaned against each other, hoping that Daniel would call dinner break. Nope! Now it was time to unload the delivery truck that had just returned from restaurant calls! The back of the hauling van was filled with boxes and coolers that needed to be stacked in the farm store. I was okay with this job. Empty coolers are light.

Once that was done, THEN Daniel called dinner break! Lydia and I voted to clean up before walking over to Daniel's for dinner. Fifteen minutes later, Lydia and I felt somewhat human again, and began the trek uphill to where food awaited us. I took one step and felt a searing pain shoot up my legs. I had been so busy that I had somewhat forgotten about my hurting shins. I looked down, and saw thin trickles of blood running down towards my ankle. As I had first suspected, tucking my jeans into my boots had chafed my shins badly, and now both were bleeding. My neck was also rubbed raw where my Carhartt collar had rubbed. I was a hurtin' person. I tried limping my way along but every time my boot touched my shins I wanted to scream. I'm such a wimp when it comes to pain. So I did the most logical thing there was to do. I walked barefoot. The temperature outside was 26 degrees, and we were walking up a gravel road in the dark. Talk about a memory! But the dinner and fellowship was enough to make up for the discomfort. We all stayed up until 10 p.m. laughing and joking together. Brie had cooked up some beef heart, and we all bravely sampled it (it wasn't too bad, actually.), but the main meal was tacos. Yum!

I was a little envious of Savannah, who was staying with Leanna and Brie, down in Daniel and Sheri's basement. She wouldn't have to walk in the pitch black darkness, like Lydia and I were preparing to do as we called it a night. Just for the record, my night vision is terrible. I can't see anything in the dark, and I feel like I'm blind. Lydia wasn't altogether sure about walking in the dark either, so we followed our ears. We figured as long as we could hear gravel, then we were obviously on the road. I walked along in the dark that night, not able to see a single thing. It was like someone put a bandanna over my eyes. More than once I stopped and asked Lydia where she was; I couldn't see her! We eventually made it back to Grandma's house, and I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Just the fact that I could see it was enough to make it seem like a grand mansion in my eyes. LOL.

I guess I somehow got in my pajamas and went to bed. I don't remember doing it though. All I remember is falling asleep instantly and sleeping like the dead. I vaguely wondered what we would be doing the next day.... My last day at Polyface...

Just In, From Polyface Farms

2012-01-30T08:43:00.000-08:00

I just received this e-mail this morning....

Dear Caitlyn,

Thank you for making the investment to come for the two-day Polyface intern checkout. It was
an extremely strong group and we are blessed to know so many passionate and goal-oriented
young people are out there.

As you know, we can't take everyone. The fact that you did not make the final cut certainly does
not reflect negatively; the field was very strong. We appreciate your commitment to clean farming
and healing the land and trust that whatever your next step is, you will pursue this vision with
enthusiasm and integrity.

As you pursue your farming endeavors, be sure to check the Polyface Opportunities page for other intern or job opportunities. http://www.polyfacefarms.com/opportunities/

We wish only God's richest blessings on you and trust you will find the best fit for your talents.

Best regards,
The Salatin Families

I've been crying ever since I first read this. I'm not going to Polyface, after all. My hopes and dreams have come crumbling down around me, in a dusty heap. I'll put on a straight face eventually, and continue on with life. But not today. Today is a day of mourning.

And Her Name Will Be 'Dulcie'

2012-01-29T16:52:00.000-08:00

Someday, I will have my own farm dog.

I dream about my canine working partner as often as I dream about my own future farm.

It will be a female English Shepherd.

She will be a sable and white color (think "Lassie's" look); either light or medium dark is fine.

She'll be a small dog; weighing in at roughly 45 lbs. Small and agile enough to dodge flying cattle hooves, but big enough to take on stubborn rams, and bossy goats.

Her coat will be medium length. Just long enough to give her that "farm collie" look, but not so much that she'll get burr overloads when working.

She'll have a long tail; although, I think the bob-tailed shepherds are nice too. :)

English Shepherd. Origin of photo unknown

She'll help me drive the cattle to new pasture;

And herd the sheep when I need her to.

She'll guard the property against any and all predators and intruders;

But will be gentle with the newborn livestock.

English Shepherd. Photo courtesy of Walnut Ranch

She'll be energetic enough to work at any time, for as long as it's needed;

But she'll also enjoy the lazy inside days.

She'll guard my back when I need it;

And keep everyone on the farm in line.

In short, she will be everything the English Shepherd has been bred to be.

And her name will be 'Dulcie'.

The Latin word for "sweet".

I don't exactly know why I chose the name Dulcie, but for some reason it just sounds right.

Some things you just know to be true, and this country girl knows that she needs a farm dog named Dulcie.

And someday, this dream will become a reality.

Someday I will have a sable colored, female, English Shepherd pup in my arms.

And that will just be the beginning of things....

Polyface -- Day 2

2012-01-27T21:24:00.000-08:00

I woke up at 4 a.m. on Wednesday.

Woke up thinking that Grandma Salatin's home was about to blow away, like in Wizard of Oz. The storm from Tennessee, Missouri, and Georgia was blowing its way north, and Swoope Virginia was getting some seriously high winds from it. I sat up in bed and peered out my windows, hoping to see something of the farmyard. Alas, my night vision is pretty poor, and all I could make out were shadowy figures. I laid back down, thinking that this would be the longest three hours until 7 o clock....

Turns out it wasn't.

I was dressed and ready to go at exactly 7 a.m. and with my new friend Lydia, who was also there for the 2-day checkout, I braved the still-dark morning, and the chilly temperature of 10 degrees. Brrr! It seems I'm not used to the cold weather all you east coasters get!! We were told to be at the hoop houses for morning chores, so we wisely followed our ears to the sound of clucking hens. The hoop houses are exactly what they sound like: Five big, greenhouse style buildings that had the typical greenhouse plastic over them. But instead of being home to exotic plants that needed warmth during the winter, these buildings housed laying hens, meat rabbits, and some hogs. I very quickly grew to love working in the hoop houses during my stay; they were comfortably warm, first and foremost. Second, they were bright and airy, and it was just plain fun being surrounded by all of those animals! LOL. Chores begin with scattering whole oats on the hoop house floor. The hens all have feeders that stay full of grain for most of the day, but the oats were to encourage the hens to scratch around in the bedding, and keep it fluffy and clean. It was interesting to see the difference in temperament among the hens. The Salatin's have mostly Barred Rocks and Rhode Island Reds. When you tossed a handful of oats in a hoop house that had the Rhodies, they would all panic and fly at the plastic walls. The panic would of course, cause dust to be stirred up, and the noise from so many birds was almost deafening. Not fun. With the Barred Rocks though, you could throw handful after handful while they calmly stared at you. You pretty much had to wade through the Barred Rocks, since they were too calm to run. :)

Hoop houses.

After scattering oats, all feed hoppers had to be filled, next boxes opened up, waterers checked, grit and oyster shell bins had to be filled, and we would usually re-fill the nest boxes with new hay. On the left side of the hoop houses were Daniel's rabbits. All sitting quietly in cages above the ground. Now, I've been raising rabbits for about eight years, but I can honestly say I have never seen such good looking rabbits as what Daniel had. Wow. Absolutely beautiful stock. Some of the hoop houses were split into thirds. Two-thirds of the structure would house the chickens, and the last 1/3 would have hogs. I must admit that out of everything I did at Polyface, I loved working around the hogs the most. I liked listening to them, and watching their goofy personalities as they went about their day. This country girl wants her own hogs someday...

While some of us worked in the hoop houses, others went to throw hay to the cattle, and take care of the rest of the hogs that were in various places. Morning chores took about an hour to an hour and a half; depending on how many people were there that morning. After morning tasks were accomplished we all eagerly went to have breakfast. We switched out so that one day the guys would eat with Joel and Theresa, and the next day they would eat with Daniel and Sheri, and then we girls would eat with Joel and Theresa. Wednesday morning happened to be when the girls got to eat at "the big house", and I was excited. I had read all of Joel's books, watched all the footage about him, listened to audio books by him, but I had never yet met him in person. And now I was about to go eat breakfast with him!

The inside of Joel's house (er, Theresa's I suppose I should say?) was delightfully old fashioned and homey. It's just one of those places that you immediately feel at home in. Lydia and I took off our coats and boots and were greeted warmly by Theresa (who actually prefers to be called "Missy"). I could smell sausage frying, and already the table was set with warm breakfast breads, raw milk, and scrambled eggs. They feed ya' good at Polyface, let me tell ya'. Five cats lounged around in the kitchen/dining room. These weren't just any cats either: these were Theresa's cats. It brought a smile to my face seeing how she doted on those fluffy felines. A few minutes later, Joel himself came cheerily downstairs. Clad in a faded shirt from a thrift store that had the name tag, "Sam" appliqued onto it, he didn't much look like someone who just pulled in a million dollars from his farm that year. And for that I smiled. As luck would have it, I got to sit right next to Joel for breakfast. Yeah, I'm a tad pathetic; being excited to get to sit next to Joel Salatin. But hey, it's not every day you get to sit next to your hero in life, right? ;) Joel is a very friendly, very down-to-earth person who is extremely easy to talk and laugh with.; and laugh and talk with him, we did. Good times....

After breakfast, we went straight back to work! Here's a tip though: if you ever go to Polyface to work for a few days, brush your teeth before breakfast, and before morning chores! You won't get a chance after breakfast. Ask me how I know.

Winter is when the Salatins focus on doing wood work. Trees are felled, chopped, split, stacked, made into boards, and/or used for building projects. So our Wednesday project was to finish clearing and stacking some wood that had been chopped earlier in the week; as well as running branches through the chipper. As Lydia and I climbed into the tractor trailer, we were able to get acquainted with the rest of the group that was there. There was Eric of course, who is the Polyface Apprentice Manager (think right hand man). Noah, who was an apprentice, and used to live in Antarctica! Leanna, who is a Polyface employee, and I probably shouldn't forget Daniel.... LOL. There were only 5 people there that morning for the 2-day checkout: Me (duh), Lydia from Virginia, Liz from New Jersey, Jeremy from Texas, and Ben who was also from Oregon! I must admit, that it did me good to have another Oregonian around. I don't know why, but it just did. ;) We bumped and jolted our way up an old road that even the tractor had a hard time maneuvering through, and then finally made it up to the field where our work awaited us.

The work was easy, thankfully, and it didn't take long before our trailer was heaped with the first load of chopped logs. However, I was sorely regretting my choice of clothing for the day!! I usually wear skirts, and am used to working hard in them; but every time I picked up a log, I mentally berated myself for not wearing my jeans. Work would have been tons easier had I worn my jeans instead of the skirt! Ah well, live and learn I suppose... Riding back to the farmyard was FUN! We had literally piled the trailer as high as we could, and our ride back down to the farmyard was on top of all that wood. YEEHAW!!

The woodpile we built!

Four hours and many more trailer loads later, we finished clearing that particular field. Lydia and I were feeling pretty good about the accomplishment, until Daniel mentioned that this was nothing compared to Joel's latest tree felling. All the Polyface folks exchanged knowing glances and rolled eyes when someone mentioned the area that Joel had just cleared. Puzzled, Lydia and I asked what was up with Joel's latest bit of work. Daniel simply smiled and said that Leanna would show us the spot later in the day....

After lunch break, the guys went to spread some of the fresh wood chips in the cow barn, and we girls got to help Joel run the saw mill! FUN! ;) Truth be told, I don't know how to work a chainsaw. Or an ax for that matter... But I DO know how to use a saw mill now! I'm not sure who had the most fun that afternoon: We girls, watching Joel play with his "boy toy"; or Joel, who was having obvious enjoyment using his beloved piece of machinery. It was like watching a kid with a new toy, as Joel expertly turned rough pine logs into 8"x8"'s for raised garden beds. We finished our work just in time to meet the newest guy who had come to the 2-day checkout, Ches from Ohio, and say goodbye to Liz, who had finished her time at the farm. Daniel mentioned making some pig gates now that everyone was finished with their afternoon tasks, and I felt momentary panic well up inside me. I did not want to do anything that involved a hammer and nails! Making pig gates was the last thing I wanted to do; for I knew I would be sure to bend my nails and embarrass myself. I had been feeling pretty good about my work all day; I didn't want to blow things now by letting Daniel see just how lousy I was at building!

Joel's saw mill. AKA, his "boy toy"

I breathed a sigh of relief when Leanna mentioned taking us up to see the woodlot that Joel had cleared, and the cottage where the girl interns stay. Agreeing with the suggestion, Daniel and Joel told us to clean up for supper after the walk up to our destination. Turns out that the cottage is 4/10's of a mile from the farmyard, and while that's a pretty small distance, it sure seems a lot longer when your legs are complaining, and it's all uphill! But the view up at the girl's cottage was lovely, so I think the walk is worth it. ;) Directly behind the cottage was the clearing.... Lydia and I stared at Joel's handiwork, and could each only muster one word as we stared at the scene before us: "Wow."

Roughly 2 acres of land lay in front of us. What was once forested terrain now looked like no-man's land from a WWII movie, or an aftermath scene from Chernobyl. You looked at the staggering amount of downed trees and brush and wondered how on earth one single person could do all of this in only a few short mornings. I had heard what I thought were jokes about how Joel loved his chainsaw, and I realized that they weren't jokes at all. Joel loves his farm, cows, pigs, and chickens, but above all he loves his chainsaw, and his saw mill. As we surveyed the impressive panorama, Leanna told us that this would be the next day's work. All of the trees and brush, every single bit of it, had to be cleared. By hand. Frankly, the job looked impossible.

But there was little time to dwell on the next day's agenda. It was supper time! Wednesday night is when everybody on the farm has dinner together at Joel and Theresa's, and I was looking forward to resting, good food, and getting to know everyone who was there. Upon entering the farmhouse, I found that another new person had arrived for her 2-day checkout. This time it was a gal from Ohio, named Savannah. I was delighted to learn that Savannah was a children's librarian (come on, how often do you meet a librarian at a farm??), and I quickly found a "kindred spirit" in her. ;) She and I became close chums in a very short time. And that, dear readers, was the start of what became one of the most memorable nights of my life... Stories were in abundance as each person shared his or her tales; the food was hot and plentiful; the laughter was contagious... I didn't want the night to ever end. After the meal was cleared from the table, Noah broke out the puzzle toys, magnetic balls and other such amusing doohickies. We all watched with mirth as poor Ben tried to figure the brain teaser out. After a few minutes of watching, Joel walked over to the bookshelf and pulled out a very old looking children's story titled, "Kermit the Hermit". He had been talking with Savannah about children's books, and was shocked that she had never yet heard of Bill Peet, or any of his books. He looked at the rest of us around the table and asked how many of us knew who Bill Peet was; no one raised their hand. I think Joel's expression at that moment is best described as "mortified". No one knew who Bill Peet was?!?!?! So he took it upon himself to educate us poor heathens, and that is how we found ourselves being read a children's story, by the world-famous Joel Salatin. The following fifteen minutes were priceless as we all howled with laughter over the silly rhyming story that sounded similar to Dr. Seuss. Joel would change voices for each character, which only added to the hilarity of the moment. Ben was still trying to figure the brain teaser out, and Theresa's cats had found laps to sit on. We were all warm, and feeling good from a hard day's work. That night, I felt like I was in a great big family. We may have not been blood kin, but we were bound together by the mutual love of farming and growing/raising food. Our common interest was enough to bring us all together from the far parts of the country, and as I sat there fellowshipping with Joel, Theresa, Noah, Rachel, Lydia, Leanna, Savannah, Jeremy, Ben, and Ches, I felt so blessed. It was such a simple evening really, but the people who were there made it a wonderful memory. If this sounds sappy, I apologize. This is a memory that I have a hard time putting into words. Some things just can't be explained, and that evening may very well be something that I will have to just treasure in my heart, and know that no one else can completely understand, except those who were also around that table...

We all parted for the night at 9 p.m. The guys went upstairs to the attic, and we girls headed back to Grandma's house.

Two acres of land to clear the next day? Bring it on. We could do it.

FRESH The Movie

2012-01-26T14:06:00.000-08:00

The Movie Food Inc. has been called the "wake up call" to what's going on in our food system. If that's so, then FRESH the movie is our call to action. For one week, from 1-26-12 to 2-1-12, you can watch FRESH for free on their website at: http://www.freshthemovie.com/watch-fresh-streaming-1-week-only/. I just finished watching this awesome movie and I love it! Very informative, very clear, and very inspiring. And of course, Joel Salatin plays a big part in it. LOL. ;) You should watch it too.

P.S. I am not being paid, nor do I receive any benefits from this post. I am putting this news out on my own accord, simply because I feel that this is a film that everyone should watch.

Random

2012-01-24T07:07:00.000-08:00

I miss my Strumstick.

There. That's a really random post for today. ;) Here I am in MD, exploring Baltimore, Lancaster, and D.C, and I'm finding myself hankering for my good ol' instrument.

I'll be flying back home on Wednesday, so not only will I then be reunited with said Strumstick, but I'll be home again and ready to get back into my daily blogging routine. And tell y'all the rest of my adventures! :D

But for now, I must needs go get my boots on. I hear the Smithsonian museum calling my name...

Meanwhile, my fingers are doing invisible chords; yearning for that little instrument... ;)

Polyface -- Day 1

2012-01-22T17:53:00.000-08:00

Polyface Farm. Photo courtesy of my Aunt

As planned, my Dad and I left for the airport at about 3 or 3:30 AM. It was dark and cold, and the snow was flying; adding to my nervousness. My stomach was churning at the thought of being on a plane, and I was badly wishing someone was coming with me. I almost wished that I could cancel everything and just stay home. I was being a chicken. But most humans seem to have a knack for pulling through daunting tasks and I neither fainted before boarding my first plane, nor did I get sick. ;) LOL. I pretty much played "monkey-see-monkey-do" at the airport. I did whatever the folks in front of me did. Waiting in line for my first plane bound for Atlanta GA. I found myself with a US Marine in front of me, and a dozen french teens behind me who had come all the way to Oregon for a fencing match (judging by their T-shirts, and their conversations). The word "tuna can" came to mind as I got on the plane. My goodness, I didn't realize they packed you in so tightly!! I was secretly hoping that I wouldn't have to sit next to the french folks, or a guy during the flight, and my wish was granted. I was seated next to a very sweet lady whom I chatted with, and next to her was a man who was a professional fiddler. I enjoyed talking about folk music with him too. :) Take-off was --- stressful. I found out that I have a fear of heights. It just seems wrong that something so huge as an airplane can stay in the air! Anyway, I don't want to think about that... I still have the flight home to endure. The sunrise was absolutely gorgeous though, and I have some pictures of that but I don't know how to get those on this particular computer so that will have to wait. The Colorado Rockies were stunning with their white peaks and valleys, and I loved seeing all the ag-land in the mid-west. I may not like airplanes, but it was neat seeing the lay of the country from that view.

All seemed to be going well during the flight, until I spied a monstrous pile of clouds as we flew through Missouri. I thought of Pixar's movie 'UP', where Russell the boy scout says, "See? Cumulus nimbus." As I realized I was looking at a brewing storm... The captain of the plane asked all passengers to buckle up tightly since there was no away to go around the fast approaching mass of gray clouds. We seemed to hit the storm suddenly, and the turbulence was something to be reckoned with. For a moment, I thought about shouting "YEEHAW!" But thought better of it... I peered out my window in fascination and saw the clouds churning angrily. I felt bad for the captain, having to steer this flying umbrella. Thirty minutes later, the storm grew worse and our plane was forced to a higher altitude. Ten thousand feet.... Fifteen thousand feet... Twenty thousand feet... Twenty five thousand feet.... At twenty eight thousand feet, and 600 mph, we were finally somewhat above the storm. There was still a lot of turbulence, but not as much. The bumpy ride lasted 2 1/2 hours before we FINALLY landed in Atlanta. I was never so overjoyed to see land!!

When I stepped into the Atlanta airport, I actually stopped in my tracks. I couldn't believe the size of that place and the amount of people! Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore. I quickly asked an employee for directions and was told I needed to take the shuttle. Shuttle? I have to take a shuttle? I had never been on one of those before, but okay! After much walking, and encounters with escalators, said shuttle was found. Now, you have to remember that I had never been on one of those contraptions before, so I really didn't pay much attention to the recorded voice that says, "Please hold on, this shuttle is about to leave." I stood there, thinking "Ooookaaaay, the thing's about to move, so what?" Ahem, they are actually quite fast. Let's just say I thoroughly embarrased myself, and the securty guard helped me retrieve my strewn luggage. [blush, blush]. but once I learned that you have to hang on, the shuttle was actually rather enjoyable! ;) Oh I felt like such a country bumpkin though... Being amused by shuttles, and sporting my Carhartt. As I sat down to wait for my next flight to Charlottesville VA. I noticed a lanky, blonde lad sitting a few rows away from me. Now, normally I don't pay that much attention to other people (especially guys; they scare me in general) but this fella' stuck out since among all the other people wearing their tight, black clothes, chains and peircings, this guy looked normal. He wore faded work boots, and an equally faded brown Carhartt coat. Maybe that's what got me... Someone else was wearing a Carharrt! LOL. I wondered if by any strange chance he was headed to Polyface as well...

Thankfully the flight to VA was uneventful and relatively quick. I almost laughed though, when I saw who I would be sitting next to. It was a girl about my age, but that's all we had in common. She was dressed in very stylish clothes, her makeup was perfect, she was reading a 'New York Times' magazine, and her iPod was blaring, despite her headphones. I plunked down next to her, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous contrast. My Carhartt had little muddy hoof prints on it, from where Poppet had been jumping up, and there were still some rogue bits of hay here and there. My hair was a helter skelter ponytail, and I don't even know the faintest thing about applying makeup. I glanced at her choice of reading, and then mischievously pulled out my seed catalog. I really couldn't resist. ;)

I DID laugh out loud though, when we pulled into the Charlottesville airport. I had just left one of the biggest airports in the nation, and I was now landing at something that was smaller than my local grocery store. The runway was surrounded by cattle fields, and to exit the plane we had to scurry down a ladder, like what you see in the old movies. I gathered my luggage and walked inside, noticing the lanky blond ahead of me. As I entered the airport (if it's not too bold to call it that!) it hit me that I really had no clue as to who to look for. Would Joel pick me up? Sheri and Daniel? One of the employees? The clock read 4:30 p.m., and the Salatins knew I would arrive at that time. I saw no one that looked like they were waiting for someone, so I hesitantly sat down in the lobby. The lanky blond was sitting directly across from me, waiting for someone as well. I tried to work up the courage to ask him if he was going to Polyface too, but I couldn't do it. My nerve kept on failing me.

Ten minutes later, A young man strode into the airport. His aqua colored T-shirt was a dead giveaway, as I recognized it as one of Polyface's. I could only assume this was my ride home. He turned to the lanky blond, and asked if he was Jeremy, whom he was supposed to be picking up for Joel Salatin. The blond fella' nodded, and the Polyface guy said, "Great! I'll take you home in just a minute, but I'm also supposed to be picking up a girl, so I'll have to find her real quick. Her name was... It was... Oh man, what did Joel say her name was?!" He craned his neck to look into an adjoining room, looking for me. Trying not to laugh yet again, I stood up and said aloud, "Was her name by any chance, Caitlyn?" The Polyface guy whirled around and grinned. "Yeah! That was her name!" And that was really all the introduction the three of us needed. The lanky blond was now known to me as Jeremy from Texas, and the Polyface guy was Eric (click highlighted words to read Eric's Polyface story). We loaded up our gear and headed off to Polyface, which was one hour away. The drive to the farm flew by as we chatted about cattle, hogs, grass, and homeschooling. Turns out all three of us had been "home eddicated" [wink].

We pulled up to Polyface Farm, and my first look at the place was -- dark. Really dark. I couldn't see a thing. Eric informed me that I would be sleeping in Grandma Salatin's home, but tonight I would be eating dinner with Sheri and Daniel, so to Daniel and Sheri's we went! Daniel built his own home, with Joel's help, and they lived just a hop and a skip from the farmyard. When we entered the house (oh yeah, Jeremy had been dropped off at Theresa and Joel's to have dinner with them), Sheri greeted me warmly and invited me to sit at the table for dinner. Eric took his leave, and I found myself cozily installed with the Salatin's at last. :) Their house was an adorable log style, southern-themed home, that was warm and friendly. Sheri and Daniel's three kids were playing in a bedroom, and two other girls named Lydia and Liz were seated at the table. Like me, they were here for the 2-day farm checkout, and were hoping to get the internship position. A few minutes later, Daniel came clumping down the stairs and greeted me with a big smile. It was all downhill from there... I have never felt so welcome at someone else's home before. We all fellow-shipped and joked together around the table; enjoying Sheri's delicious homemade meatloaf (it was awesome).The time seemed to disintegrate, and before we knew it, it was 9 p.m. Daniel drove me and Lydia down to Grandma Salatins house, and told us that chores started at 7 the next morning, before driving back to his own home. Lydia and I looked at each other, and then went inside...

Grandma Salatin was a very sweet lady, and went above and beyond the call of duty to make sure we were comfy and had everything we needed. Once in our pajamas, we both sat down in the living room; I on the floor and she on a squishy chair, and we visited with Grandma until 10:30. I loved that night.... Grandma was a good listener as well as a good story teller, and between the three of us, there was never a dull moment. I learned that Lydia was older than me by four years (although she looked like she was 16!), and she luckily lived only two hours from the Salatins. By 10:30 my eyes were drooping without my consent, so I politely excused myself and went to bed. Lydia followed suit.

I was asleep before my head hit the pillow, and that was the end of my first day....

I'm Back -- Sort Of

2012-01-21T06:46:00.000-08:00

Hey guys!! It feels like I've been away from here for eternity! I'm writing this post from Maryland right now, and a beautiful blanket of snow is outside my window. Very nice. :)

The full Polyface story IS coming, so don't get too far; hopefully it'll all be posted later today or within the next couple of days.

But wow.... Polyface Farms.... It has completely changed my life, my perspective on things, I've learned so many new skills, made friends, every part of my body is achingly sore, and quite frankly, I'm homesick for my Polyface family. The visit was awesome, and I loved getting to be a part of the Salatin's family, even if it was only for 3 1/2 days. I am blessed with so many memories from that place... Memories that I will hold close for a very long time... Learning to use the saw mill; listing to Joel read a children's story out-loud to everyone during dinner (and no children were present!); listening to Noah's adventures he had while doing construction work in Antarctica; Walking barefoot up a gravel road at night with Lydia towards Daniel's house; Moving cows; sitting with a cat in my lap while Theresa made breakfast; staying up late talking with Grandma Salatin; moving 20,000 lbs. of frozen chicken; everyone gathered 'round the dinner table together, and laughing our heads off at various jokes...

I miss Polyface.

So yes, full story coming up, and I believe I even have a few pictures to share. :) Alas, I did not get one single picture of my own, since I was literally working from dawn 'til dusk, but my aunt and uncle have a few that I can put on here.

Ready

2012-01-16T15:04:00.000-08:00

Well folks, this is it:

I leave in exactly 12 hours...

My bag is packed (and yes, it's under 40 lbs!), and I believe I have everything I'll need for the week...

Directions of care for the animals have been put in the hands of a sister, so they should all be nice and comfy while I'm gone...

Everything of mine in the house is tidied, I even cleaned my closet out this week!

My Baker Creek Heirloom Seed catalog is packed, and I am eagerly awaiting to read it on the plane tomorrow...

When I come home next Wednesday, there just might be a new Nubian doe waiting in the barn for me. Her name is Eleanor, and I've been waiting for her for a long time now...

Plans are made, dates are set...

I rise at 2:45 a.m. tomorrow to leave...

Next stop: POLYFACE FARMS!!!!

I'll give y'all updates as often as I can!

(And yes, this post is really disjointed. I'm in no frame of mind today to make it sound nice and poetic. LOL.)

Snow Day

2012-01-15T10:29:00.001-08:00

I awoke this morning to see the world gently blanketed in white...

It finally snowed.

I Can Just See It Now...

2012-01-14T20:39:00.000-08:00

Airport man: "Excuse me ma'am, but dogs are not allowed on the plane."

Me: "Oh that's okay. This isn't a dog anyway."

Airport man: "Ah, I see. Would you mind telling me exactly what that ball of fur is?"

Me: "This 18" ball of fluff is in fact, sir, a goat. A Nigerian Dwarf goat named Poppet."

Airport man: "Goats aren't allowed on the plane either, ma'am."

Me: "This one is."

"Airport man: "How's that?"

Me: "This little lard barrel just so happens to be a -- um -- uh -- a specially trained Seeing Eye goat! Yes. A Seeing Eye goat."

Airport man is not convinced.

I try again: "A Service goat?"

"A Therapy goat?"

"A drug sniffing goat?"

"A bomb finder?"

"Will any of those titles work?"

Airport man's expression does not lighten noticeably.

Sigh... No goats allowed on airplanes... Poppet can't come with me on Tuesday. :-(

Packing

2012-01-14T16:43:00.000-08:00

Let it be known to all who read this blog: I hate packing.

I despise it above all else in life. I do not like puzzles, riddles or mysteries. And to me, packing is the worst puzzle, riddle and mystery wrapped up into one horrendous chore.

I do not like packing.

So, guess what I've been doing all day! Yup, packing.

I have every intention of taking my duffel bag as a carry-on piece of luggage. Saves me forty dollars!! But, with this goal in mind, I have to abide by the strict rule the airport has laid down.

It has to weigh no more than 40 lbs.

I scoffed when I first heard that. Who on earth needs 40 lbs. of clothes for the week??? Shucks, I can get my bag packed and stay way under the limit! And so I thought, until I realized that I needed to pack enough clothes for 8 days, shoes, rubber rain boots, a nicer coat than my Carhartt, and lets not forget the pajamas. I forgot those the first time I packed the bag.

At first, I really did think that I would be able to do it, and still have room in my bag. But then my sisters and mom came in the room and started pelting me with, "You can't take that!", "You can't wear that!", "You have to take something nicer than that!!"

Confession: I am neither a fashionable person, nor am I a clothes horse. When I go shopping, I can't look at the nice, fashionable clothes that my sisters so dearly love to wear (and they look quite nice in them). No, I look for sturdy, sensible clothes that can withstand goat onslaughts, adventures with barbed wire, dirt stains, blood stains, hay stacking sprees, and other various things such as that. I joke that I wear designer clothes: much of what I have is ripped or stained. My favorite tiered, denim skirt has a 5" square rip at the bottom of it from barbed wire. The navy blue T-shirt I'm wearing right now has bleach stains on the hem, and a tear in the sleeve. My denim blouse had a 3" tear. As I tick my clothes off on my fingers, I sheepishly have to admit that nothing is in good condition. When I want to dress up, I just go get something from my sister's closet, since there's nothing good in mine.

So as I viewed my clothes for the week with satisfaction, my family was looking on in horror. My beloved John Deere shirt that says "Farm Raised" on the front may be a slightly funny shade of yellow, but I love that shirt! I've had it for almost five years, of course I'm going to take it with me on the trip! If I had my way, I would probably clump through the airport wearing my trusty brown linen skirt, yellow John Deere shirt, rose colored Carhartt, and my black rubber boots.

But for some reason my family said I couldn't wear that... I must be behind on fashions these days...

So the afore mentioned mother and sisters took over the decisions of clothing, and I must say that I will look much nicer now! But getting it all in that duffel bag.... Oh good heavens.

After who knows how long, I did finally manage to get everything in, and the zipper closed (for a few moments, I thought for sure it would break!). And then, oh the horror!! I realized that I forgot to put pajamas and socks in there!! Back out came everything, and it took much repositioning before that zipper was closed once again.

But then I picked the bag up.

It's really heavy.

Something tells me it weighs at least 40 lbs. Most likely more. I groan just thinking about going through everything again. And I'm not even going to think about the fact that my pajamas that I need tonight are at the very bottom of the bag; stuffed inside the rain boots.

I hate packing.

And I'm going to look utterly ridiculous as I go through the airport with my rose colored Carhartt (it wouldn't fit in the bag, so I have to wear it), nice clothes, and cherry red duffel bag. Fashionable, I am not.

I will try and continue to post on here daily, until Tuesday, but I won't make any promises. Between trying to get ready to leave, and still going about daily life, I am tuckered out!

Toodle pip and cheerio, my friends. :) I should probably go and try to get my pajamas out of the bag now...

Black and White

2012-01-12T16:09:00.000-08:00

I had the delightful pleasure of creating an Alpine goat this week, and I thought I'd share some pictures with y'all. :)

Below is what a real Alpine looks like:

Photo courtesy of Iron-Rod Alpines

And this is my rendition:

The only part I wasn't able to replicate was the white patch on the hind legs. Knitted goats are just too chubby to be able to do that... ;)

Led By A Goat, Part 3

2012-01-11T19:58:00.000-08:00

Life was certainly interesting with Heidi around. In her underweight condition, she was roughly 150 lbs. Capri, who was my second biggest animal on the farm at the time, weighed only 130 lbs. Heidi frequently used brute strength to bully the others away from the hay manger, and sometimes even out of the barn altogether. Her instincts were in overdrive, and she was trying to eat as much food as possible. All other creatures were looked upon as competition for food, and she was determined to climb her way to the top of pecking order, and keep all the food to herself. I kept the 8’ long, 3’ wide, and 4’ deep hay manger full at all times, but that didn’t deter her from aggressively commandeering the entire structure. Capri and Ivy rebelled towards this big, white goat. Fights broke out. Heads became bloodied. Heidi was like a ticking time bomb; you were always waiting for the moment of explosion.

Each day I tried to tame my new wild girl. It was late December now, and she was due to kid in February. I needed her to be calm and trusting enough by then, that I could milk her. Despite my daily efforts, Heidi remained stubbornly introverted. She was untouchable, and flighty; insecure and distrustful. At times, I could see a spark of something different flickering in her eyes. As if perhaps she wanted to trust me. But those moments were fleeting; lasting only a minute or two before being once more veiled in doubt. I tried feeding her choice tidbits by hand, I tried brushing her, I tried talking to her without making eye contact; I tried everything I could think of! I don’t know what her past was like, and most likely never will, but something obviously happened to her that caused her life to shatter. What I beheld now were shards: Broken, seemingly irreparable, cracked, destroyed… And yet, amidst the ruin I saw beauty. Even broken glass will still reflect light. I felt like there was still hope for her, if I could only figure out how to reach her. How do you try and make a goat understand that she is finally safe, and will not be abused again?

As I watched and cared for her in the following weeks, my memory was still trying to figure out why her story seemed so familiar. Why was I perpetually haunted by the look in her eyes? The answer was on the tip of my tongue, and yet forever dancing just out of reach. Like trying to remember the name of your first childhood friend, or your favorite candle scent when you were young, such memories can be hard to resurrect, but they’re there; hovering in the back of your mind.

The answer to my plaguing question dawned on me one afternoon as I watched Heidi in frustration. I had just spent the last couple of hours groveling for her attention but it was to no avail. The Nubians circled me like land sharks during this time; eager for affection and back scratches, but I waved them off. I wanted Heidi. Couldn’t she see that? Couldn’t she see that I wanted to hold her, scratch her behind the ears, and be her leader? I was frustrated to the point of being angry. She wouldn’t open up to anyone! She no longer trusted humans! What happened to cause her to lose faith?! That’s when it hit me. As if punched in the stomach, I gasped, and had to sit down on the damp ground as the realization dawned on me.

Why did her looks of fear and mistrust seem so vaguely familiar? Why did I feel like I had seen it all before? It was so obvious that I missed it until now:

I was seeing a mirror of myself.

Resentment, bitterness, pride, fear, pain… When I looked upon Heidi for the first time, and saw those emotions fleetingly pass through her, I was unconsciously harking back to my own memories of the same feelings. I bought her, wondering why she seemed so familiar to me, and now, in a dumbstruck manner, realized that I was seeing my own reflection in a four-legged animal. I understood her now...

This has been really helping me, to post parts of my book on here. :) Makes me write it faster!

January Movie Review

2012-01-11T10:24:00.000-08:00

Food, Inc.

A Robert Kenner film

Rating: 10
Watchability (bear with me on the term): 10
Impact: 10
Recommend It? Yes!
Watch it again: Yes!

What to expect: Food, Inc. lifts the veil on our nation's food industry, exposing how our nation's food supply is now controlled by a handful of corporations that often put profit ahead of consumer health, the livelihood of the American farmer, the safety of workers, and our own environment. Food, Inc. reveals surprising and often shocking truths about what we eat, how it's produced, and who we have become as a nation. ~ Excerpt from back cover of movie case

My Thoughts on it: Watching Food, Inc. was a big happening for me. For about a year and a half now, I've listened to folks endlessly telling me that I HAD to watch this movie. People were saying things like, "You'll never want to eat food again!" "I almost threw up watching it!" and "You'll want to go off-grid after watching this, and grow every bit of your own food." Amid all these comments on the film, I kept on wondering in the back of my mind how it could possibly be more graphic than things I had already seen, concerning the food industry. And I've seen some pretty graphic stuff.
So upon being told that I needed to watch this, my mind was expecting a horror movie. Something so graphic and grotesque that it would send me reeling. And that, in short, is one reason why I hadn't watched it until now.

I actually watched this on Christmas Eve... Probably not the best day to do it, but we weren't celebrating Christmas Eve until the 25th this year, and I had the movie already! So I popped it in the laptop and watched it...

If I had to sum the entire movie up in one word, I would call it: Excellent.

It was an excellent, spectacular film, and nothing what I expected. This wasn't a horror story, it was an informational documentary. I had no desire to throw up at any time while watching it, nor did I run to the kitchen when it ended, and start madly throwing all industrial foods out the window. Watching Food, Inc. was basically a recap for me. In it were things I already knew, had already seen, and was rather desensitized to. I could see though, how it could be a jolting film if you are unaccustomed to how our food system works behind the scenes.

I think Food, Inc. did an exceptionally good job at showing both sides of the coin as well. Another thing I had expected was it to be the whole, "Buy organic, locally grown foods, and if you don't then you're a terrible person" sort of spiel. I am 100% for organically grown, local foods, but I'm not so naive as to think that such a thing is possible for everyone at this time. But back to the movie... I liked it how they showed interviews with people who were for CAFO's (Confined Animal Feeding Operations), as well as those who were against it. Those who were for fast food restaurants, and those who are against it. The film was well balanced, and leaves the watcher to really make the end decision about things.

Thinking back, if there was one part of the movie that really stuck out to me, it was the part about illegal immigrants who are working in the industrial food factories. I had always known what it was like for them, and what they went through, but to actually see it was a different ball game. That hit home.

I definitely recommend watching this movie. This is not a horror story intended to make you feel guilty about your eating choices. It's an educational, extremely informative, accurate documentary that was filmed so that you might better understand how our nation works, how our food industry works, and how everything is ultimately intertwined by what we eat.

You can find out more about Food, Inc. by clicking HERE
.

Of Songbirds and Warblers

2012-01-10T17:28:00.001-08:00

Time for introductions.

We were blessed this Christmas with a lovely new hammered dulcimer from Songbird Dulcimers (click highlighted words to be taken to their website), so my dad and I thought we should introduce y'all to our newest addition in the musical world. :) This particular dulcimer is called the 'Warbler', and is fully chromatic, as well as handmade.

The first video pretty much explains what needs to be explained, so I'll leave you now to enjoy watching them!

Hehe, and now y'all know my name: Caitlyn. ;) I don't think I've ever given my name on here, so there you have it!

Does anyone else here play the hammered dulcimer?

Want To Know Something?

2012-01-10T17:18:00.000-08:00

At this time, on this day, in exactly one week, I will be pulling into the driveway of Polyface Farms.

The sun will be setting on the Salatin's home place; only a few streaks of finger paint will be lingering in the sky, as we drive up. Before dusk engulfs the entire place.

That's gonna' be torture. I'll have to wait until the next morning before I can really see the place!!

I am beyond excited for this trip. Excited to work, excited to meet Joel and his family, excited to stay with my Aunt and Uncle in MD for the rest of the week, and just plain excited!

The Equines Have Landed

2012-01-10T17:13:00.000-08:00

Two of them, to be exact. They're quite small though. Much too small to be ridden, as they stand at a petite 2 hands high (1 "hand" = 4"). These two stable buddies are about to be sent off to Kentucky, but I thought I might first share some pictures of my latest creations. :)

The flashy black and white is a Tennessee Walking Horse named 'Spirit'...

And the sorrel is a handsome Quarter Horse who goes by the handle of 'Montoya'...

I have to admit that I'm a little pleased with how these two turned out. Spirit especially. These were both custom orders, and I had to use some pictures as my guide to their colors, markings and build.

Now, back to making goats! LOL.

Led By A Goat, Part 2

2012-01-09T20:06:00.000-08:00

Having paid for what was now my goat, we worked quickly to load her into the bed of our red pickup truck. With most goats, once you get their front half up there, the rest follows. Not so with this girl. She fought us with whatever strength she still had; blowing and snorting loudly. Her eyes flashing anger and fear. Finally, the man went back into the decrepit barn and brought out a bucket of grain. I watched silently as the poor goat zeroed her gaze on that bucket, and with no help at all she scrambled into the truck bed; eating as if it was her last meal. Just before climbing into the truck to leave, I turned and asked the man if she had a name. He was silent for a moment, as if trying to remember if she did or not. Then he looked at me and said, “Tina. Her name is Tina.” And with that, we parted. He with one hundred dollars in his pocket, and I with a bedraggled caprine named Tina.

The ride home was fairly quiet. Tina seemed too busy trying to stay upright, than to be voicing her opinions on being shanghaied. Forty minutes later, we pulled up to the barn. My barn is certainly nothing fancy, what with its metal walls and roof. Not to mention it leaks on the left side and floods on the right. But it was good enough for me, my goats, and my rogue Jersey calf whose name was Poppy. I opened the main door and hollered to my goats whom I affectionately call “the girls”. “Girls! I have someone new for you to meet!” At that time, there were only two other does: Capri, an Oberhasli/Nubian cross who was my star milker, and Ivy the purebred, registered Nubian. Capri was the color of rich chestnut, with ebony accenting her legs, face and spine. In the sunlight her coat shimmered and rippled like rays of light dancing upon a brook. She was my sweetheart, with her placid temperament and perfect manners. Milking over one gallon a day also helped increase my appreciation for her. Ivy was still a gangly yearling, but managing to put ¾ of a gallon into the pail each day. Her strawberry roan color clashed somewhat with her two buff hued “badger stripes” on her face, but I didn’t mind too much. Her fancy pedigree and potential as a show goat were enough for me.

As I walked in the barn with Tina bucking and thrashing at the end of my lead rope, it hit me, just what a stark comparison there was between her and my two other does. Capri and Ivy were plump, sleek, elegant, and had their own unique style about them. Tina looked like a crow among the swallows; a dandelion with the roses. A Volkswagen Beetle next to a BMW. She was as out of place as a draft horse at a race track. Capri, Ivy, and Poppy pushed against the flimsy wire fencing that created their pen inside the barn, trying to get closer to the newcomer who was infiltrating their home. Getting Tina inside the pen proved to be a challenge on its own. With the two milkers trying to nose the gate out of my hands so they could escape, Tina still plunging to get away, and the cow bellowing for her evening bottle of milk, the moment was anything but reflective and calm. But somehow, in a moment of supernatural strength, I managed to charge through the little gate, drag Tina with me, and keep Capri and Ivy within the fenced premises. HA! Victory is mine, you mischievous fiends! I barked at Poppy to be quiet, who then slunk into a corner and batted her big doe eyes at me. I untied the rope that was still anchoring Tina to me, and anxiously wondered what this wild gal would do now that she had her freedom. Her first move was to get as far away from me as possible. I could see her indecision as she tried to decide if she should run to the farthest part of the pasture, or stay inside and eat hay. She chose the latter, and began stuffing her face; eyeing me warily the whole time.

Family members came out to the barn, excited to see the new addition to the herd. They came in with smiles and questions, but stopped short in steps and words when they saw my miscreant. “You paid how much for that thing?” They all asked. Other comments floated around as they each came and went. “That is the ugliest goat I have ever seen.” You’re actually going to keep her?” “She’s so thin, why did you even bother with her?” On and on the opinions came; like torrents of water, they eddied and swirled around me and Tina. I was a little sheepish at this point; slightly regretting my purchase and wondering if I had been too rash in my actions. But it was too late now. I had to make the best of the situation I was now in. I looked Tina up and down, trying to figure out what I should do first about her looks and state. Perhaps I’m a vain person, but one thing that was really bothering me about her was her six inch long beard that she was sporting. Something in me just doesn’t like beards on my does! It almost seemed to be throwing the symmetry of her face off, seeing as it was so long but her ears were so short. In the end, I let the beard stay as it was for the time being. She had been stressed enough already; there was no need to overdo things.

But there was one thing that I DID want to do before the night was over. She needed a different name. The name Tina really didn’t seem to fit her, and it harbored memories of her past in those two syllables. What we needed was a new name for a new start here in her new home. We needed to start completely over. Unfortunately, when it comes to names, I tend to get so overwhelmed in the process, that it takes forever to make a decision. Should I name her Pfeffernusse? Snow White? Lily? Greta?

Like I said, I’m bad at names. One name, however, kept on coming back to me: Heidi. She reminded me so much of the Saanen goats in that Classic tale, “Heidi”. I figured Heidi was better than Pfeffernusse (which is a kind of cookie, by the way), so it stuck.

Heidi had landed at Goat Song Farm. What had I done? And what would become of this adventure?

This is yet another excerpt from my growing story. :) This chapter is perhaps not as good as the first, but it's serving as the bridge into the rest of the story. It gets better. ;)

Playin' Hooky Today

2012-01-09T14:47:00.000-08:00

Hey guys; just wanted to let y'all know that I'm playin' hooky today, so there won't be any earth shattering posts written on here until tomorrow or Wednesday. It seems I caught some strange bug, and all my body wants to do today is sleeeeeeeeep. I actually just woke up from a five hour nap, and thought I should give y'all a heads up here. Between shaky knees, lightheadedness, and a fuzzy feeling brain, I don't think I could come up with anything good to say today anyway. :-/

Would anyone on here be interested in hearing more of tale I wrote yesterday? If y'all wanted to hear more of Heidi's story, I could keep on writing excerpts of it. :) Or I could just keep it all under blankets as a surprise... Hehe.

Okay, I'm off to go sit down somewhere before I fall down.... Oy. I despise being sick...

Excerpt

2012-01-08T15:30:00.000-08:00

It was something in her eyes… Resentment, bitterness, pride, fear, pain… As if she had irreversibly locked the tumbler to her soul, she stood there: staring scornfully. Not caring about anything anymore. I was looking at the forsaken shape of a white goat, that chilly winter day. The sky was blanketed with gray clouds that looked like damp wool, and a soft mist hung in the mountains. I had come to this dilapidated farm to be shown what I was told to be a Saanen doe, and it appeared that I was looking at her. Her fur coat was a shaggy, three inches long, but even that couldn’t hide her bones jutting sharply from her gaunt hide. To my sorrow, I learned that this destitute creature was heavily pregnant and due to kid in less than two months. She looked hardly capable of surviving, let alone being pregnant. Her eight month old buckling came trotting up to her and began nursing eagerly. Poor girl, I thought, she’s practically being eaten alive as this buckling, and the kids in her womb steal her preciously scarce nutrients.

My heart went out to this horridly ugly excuse for a goat, and I gently reached out to stroke her. She looked at my outstretched hand and hurriedly moved out of my reach. Despite her impoverished condition, her eyes still glowed with feeling. I saw hatred smoldering like embers in her expressive face. Though she stood in a quagmire of filth and was disgraceful to look at, she stood with her head held high. Like a princess locked in a concentration camp, she knew in her heart that she was more than her prison mates. Trying to not let my emotions get the better of me, I rationalized buying such a creature. It was possible that she could die during labor, due to her critical state. Or she might not be a good milker, which is what I was looking to buy. I was on the hunt for a purebred, preferably registered milking goat, and here I was staring at a neglect case. This goat was by no means purebred, either. She had the build and look of a Saanen, but her ears were a dead giveaway to her other lineage: They were only one inch long. Those ridiculous looking ears screamed La Mancha blood, so I could only presume she was a Saanen/ La Mancha cross.

But her eyes haunted me… Where had I seen something like that before? As if groping for a forgotten history, my mind searched for an answer to this riddle.

Meanwhile, the owner watched my silence and took it for hesitance in buying her. He reassured me that it didn’t matter if I bought her or not. If I didn’t, his hunting buddy would come over the next day and just turn her into sausage. It didn’t matter to him; it was just a goat.

I looked at the wretched creature before me, again, and I thought about the $100 in my pocket. She was too proud, it seemed to me, to be turned into sausage. Not to mention her unborn kids would be killed as well. I sighed, and handed over one hundred dollars. Not only did I want to see what was behind her layer of filth, but something in me also wanted -- or maybe needed -- to figure out where I had seen such a haunted look before. Why did her eyes seem like such a familiar memory in the back of my mind?

This small blurb is from something I've been working on over the past week. Just thought I'd share, and ask y'all for some feedback. :)

The Hunt Is Over -- At Last

2012-01-07T16:35:00.001-08:00

There are 22 new bales of hay in my barn right now. Bales that were not there yesterday.

As I've mentioned to y'all, I've been having a hard time finding hay this month, and the steadily dwindling number of bales in my barn were proof positive of that. My search seemed futile. Everything I found was either too expensive, or they wouldn't deliver, or I had to buy at least five tons, or it wasn't good quality... Ugh. But I needed something, so I was getting ready to spend $245 on a ton of hay that was an hour away from me. I had really hoped to stay in the $150 to $160 range, but there just wasn't anything available!

Then a friend e-mailed me, saying there was a pretty good hay dealer 30 minutes away, and their prices were good, somewhere around $8 per bale. I was intrigued, and called the hay people immediately.

Less than five minutes later, I had bought myself a ton of clover mix hay. I hadn't even seen it, hadn't run any of my tests by it yet, but I bought it. The gal I spoke with was very confident that I would like it, and I appreciated the fact that she stood behind their hay quality. The fact that the hay was organically grown was the cherry on top. I took her word for the hay's quality, and said I would see them in my barn the next day (Friday).

Unfortunately, it rained on Friday, and the hay people said they would prefer to wait until the next day. I still had hay from my last batch, so I was fine with that.

This morning came, and along with it came my load of hay.

Hot dawg, I found my permanent hay supplier!

The hay was just as good as they said it was, and the goats went absolutely berserk trying to get to it, despite their overflowing hay manger full of their breakfast. The husband and wife who own the hay farm were very friendly, and their prices really couldn't be beat. I paid $150 for this stuff, and they delivered and stacked it neatly for me. I'm easy to impress. ;)

We talked about hay, cattle and goats for awhile, and then they hit the road again. But I'm saving their phone number for sure. I've been hunting for a supplier like them for five years; now I hope to buy from them for at least another five.

This video is of the girl's third helping of the new hay. Normally all hay goes into the manger, but said manger was still full of their breakfast! So I figured they could go ONE day with eating snack on the ground. LOL.

It Made A Difference To That One

2012-01-07T13:25:00.000-08:00

One day a man was walking along the beach when he noticed
A boy picking up something and gently throwing it back into the ocean.
Approaching the boy, he asked "What are you doing?"
The Youth replied, "Throwing starfish back into the ocean.
The surf is up, and the tide is going out.
If I don't throw them back, they will die."

"Son", the man said, "Do you realize that there are miles and miles of beach
And hundreds of starfish? You cannot make a difference."
After listening politely, the boy bent down, picked up another starfish
And threw it back into the surf. Then, smiling at the man, he said
"I made a difference to that one!"

~Loren Aisley

Just a little something for us all to mull over today. :) I know I always get so bogged down, thinking that I can't possibly make a difference in life. I'm just one small person in this huge world. But this story always reminds me that I'm not out to make a difference in the world. My job is to make a difference in the lives of those around me. That's what matters.

Cast Down -- Again

2012-01-06T15:59:00.000-08:00

I came inside from making soap today, and my eyes fell upon a thin magazine that came in the mail earlier in the afternoon. It was my January/February copy of my beloved Dairy Goat Journal. All of life stopped for one fleeting moment as I slowly reached to pick up that little stack of colored papers.

My eyes scanned the front cover, reading teaser titles. Upon not seeing what I wanted, I wrenched the first pages open and eagerly searched the index. I read through the list fervently, and then read through it again a second time.

What I was searching for, wasn't there. Again.

I sent in an article submission to DGJ back in December, and I had so hoped to see that article in this go 'round's copy. But it wasn't. [big sigh]

Perhaps in the March/April copy, I will find my little article. It is discouraging sometimes, sending off articles that I have thrown myself into, and then not hearing anything about it. I know the editors are busy, I know they don't know me from Jane, but it would sure mean a lot to this simple country girl to one day see her own words in a published magazine. I'll probably write up another article soon, and send it to SGJ. If at first you fail your deed, try again 'til you succeed. Maybe someday... Someday I'll eagerly open the front cover to my latest magazine, and there in the index will be something written by me. Sends shivers down my spine just thinking about it... :)

Method To The Madness

2012-01-05T13:23:00.000-08:00

Kiwi sold today.

And I'm filled with mixed feelings about it. I feel a twinge of regret selling her, and I wonder at my own madness in selling such a promising milker. But I also feel good about where she went to. She is now with a couple who already have a few dairy goats of their own, so they know what they're doing; I have "first right of refusal" (meaning if they ever want to sell her, they have to ask me first if I want her back), and I always have the offer of buying some of her offspring in the future. And of course, now Kiwi is spared from Heidi's fury.

As I posted Kiwi for sale, I couldn't help but wonder why I was choosing to sell HER. If there was any goat to sell in my herd, it should have been Heidi. A grumpy, bad tempered (towards other goats anyway) crossbred who gives awful tasting milk and is getting too old to be bred. Really, what's the point in keeping her, and selling the promising doeling who will have a butterfat score of 7%???? Where's the method to the madness here!?

As I thought about this some more, I had to sheepishly admit that I'm keeping Heidi simply because I like her. In all of her grumpy glory, there's something in her that makes me laugh. I recently finished Jon Katz's book titled, "The Dogs of Bedlam Farm", and in that book Jon describes one of his Border Collies named Homer. Homer seemed like the perfect dog. No bad habits, well behaved at all times, quiet, loved kids, etc. etc... And then their was Jon's other Border Collie named Orson. Wild to the point of being maniacal, aggressive, spastic, loud, bad habits galore... Yet Jon sold Homer, and kept Orson.

There was simply something in Orson that Jon liked.

Kiwi was my "Homer". She was perfect. Quiet, had a stellar pedigree, a promising milking lineage, she went into heat like clockwork, led and stacked (i.e. "posed") with no fuss, never bossed any of the goats around, ate like a lady, never once tried to escape. What more could a goat owner ask for? But maybe that was it: She was too perfect... Since she was never escaping, misbehaving, or in your face, you simply noticed her last. In Heidi, I see a mirror of myself, and I know that's no compliment. We're both left-brained, grumpy extroverts who always somehow manage to get in trouble. Heidi knows my hot buttons. She knows exactly what makes me mad, and she also knows what look to pull when trying to seem innocent. I love that goat to pieces....

So my perfect goat left today, and I'm left with the shaggy delinquent of a Saanen/ La Mancha doe. She's earned her status as a permanent herd matriarch here. :)

But there was another reason why I sold Kiwi. I need to prioritize things this year, and increase my number of good quality breeding stock. In Kiwi's absence, there will be a new goat soon. I have my eye on one in particular, but it's yet to be decided if she's the one I will go with. I had to tell myself over and over again this morning that I HAVE to stick to my goals. I'll never reach them if I get sidetracked and buy every cute goat out there. I need to be firm with myself and do first things first. I want my herd to closely resemble the goats in the following herds:

Lakshore Farms
Saada Dairy Goats
Blissberry Nubians
Jacob's Pride
Alize Dairy
Remuda Nubians
Hoanbu Dairy goats
Kastdemur's (Kastdemur's website is currently down, but their animals are gorgeous!)

When my herd looks like any of the above mentioned, then I'll relax and get back into the Guernseys. I miss 'em already...

For Sale

2012-01-04T12:37:00.000-08:00

I can't believe I'm doing this, but after a couple weeks of thought, I have decided to put Kiwi up for sale.

I need to prioritize right now, and that means getting my herd of Nubians at a stable level, before starting another breed. Someday I'll get into Guernseys again, but first things first.

Kiwi is 10 months old right now, and still going into heat quite regularly. So there's still time to get her bred!

Her dam is milking an average of 10 lbs. per day (1 gallon = 8 lbs.), and has a butterfat score of 7%.

Her paternal granddam has done really well both at shows, and in the milk pail.

Kiwi is tested and negative for both CAE and CL. She's a sweetheart. Very quiet (except when she's in heat!), and she tends to be at the bottom of pecking order.

I feel like Kiwi might be better off at a different home. Somewhere where her potential as a milker will be appreciated and put to good use. She's too good to be just a brush goat. I think it would also be better for her to be elsewhere so she won't have to be bullied by Heidi anymore... That ornery gal likes to push her around and often won't let Kiwi have access to hay.

Kiwi's conformation is nice. She's still young, so it's hard to say what she will mature to, but overall she looks promising. The main fault I see in her is that she has loose shoulders (imagine a cat walking, and how their shoulders move. That's what "loose shoulders" means).

Below is a picture of Kiwi's dam, Rubystar Garnet.

Kiwi's sire: Rubystar KLK MAJ Cheveyo. You can view his pedigree HERE.

And Kiwi's paternal granddam. I love this gal!

I'm asking $200 for Kiwi.

I live in the Willamette Valley, in OR. About an hour south of Portland. If you would like to come out and see Kiwi, or if you have questions, please e-mail me HERE.

The Strength Tree

2012-01-03T17:50:00.000-08:00

The Ash tree.

Fraxinus Ornus is its Latin handle.

Revered in the medieval ages for its seemingly "magic" powers, peasants never felled an Ash tree, fearing it would bring a curse upon them. Instead these trees were allowed to die a natural death. When the trees did finally die, they were not burned; their famously hard wood was used to make things such as bows, eating utensils, and shepherds crooks. To burn an Ash tree was considered bad luck.

Also known as the Rowan tree -- which is what I like to call them -- these hardwood sentinels were planted next to barns and front doors, to protect the buildings from lighting, and supposedly witches (I'm still not sure how those two correlate.. Maybe it has something to do with changing eras).

The Rowan is a youthful tree. Slender in form, with graceful leaves called "keys". These keys are highly sought after by animals (goats mostly), and their cheerfully red berries are a winter staple for birds.

We have a Rowan tree on our property... Planted next to what used to be the front door (as the house changed over the years, it became a side door). It's an old tree, although its slim figure is somewhat misleading. Sometimes I sit and wonder just who planted that tree... Who planted it next to the front door? Was it for protection against lighting and witches? Did the planter hope to one day have a wood source for his crooks and spoons?

I guess I'll never know... But I think it would be neat to have my own shepherds crook made from it someday. :)

The Farmer's Holy Grail

2012-01-02T14:59:00.000-08:00

My eyes are all bleary feeling... I've been staring at this computer screen for entirely too long. My computer mouse makes continuous clicking noises, as I clickety-click at Craigslist ads. And then click again to go back to the main list. I'm on the hunt for what every farm person seeks. It's our holy grail. We wheel and deal, plead and beg, hunt and skulk for what we are searching for. Some have it easier than others in this quest fraught with disappointments and dead ends. We keep the bottle of ibuprofen right beside us, and on pieces of ripped paper are phone numbers that have been crossed off.

And what is this holy grail that we so intensely and doggedly track down? Ah, it could only be one thing... And if you are a livestock owner yourself, you may have an inkling of what it is.

It's hay.

Hay for our livestock.

We search for it until we feel we can't go on anymore. We sympathize with each other as we plunk down $19 per bale. We inspect test bales as if they were the key to life. We look at their color, feel the core temperature, smell it, taste it, crunch it in our hands, bend it, measure the length, test it for protein percentages, walk around it, feel its weight. And then finally, we see if the animals like it, and if we can afford it. If those don't work, then it's back to the ol' drawing board.

If there is one thing in life that I utterly hate, it's trying to find a good hay source. Many people assume that goats will eat anything, and therefore any cheap hay will do. Dear readers, 'tis not so... Goats are the pickiest creatures on this globe. Don't waste your money trying to give them what is classed as, "cow hay"; that's bedding to them. Horse hay is a step up, but they're still apt to turn their noses up at it. No, it's not easy for us goat people, as we find that our dairy goats will really only eat the best stuff out there. But YIKES! Prices are almost $400 per ton this year!! It is maddening when you've just gotten a ton of expensive hay that looks good to your eye, and then you watch those ornery goats pull out and trample 3/4's of it, and only eat one tiny fraction. World's most expensive bedding.

Goat hay is hard to find. It has to be green. It has to be soft. The length of the grasses can't be more than eight inches long. There can't be dust in it. Or twigs. They don't like fescue. And I can only spend $160, and that price has to include delivery. [bonks head on computer desk repeatedly]

So there I am: scrolling through the Craigslist ads, trying to find my Holy Grail. Hay. That's all I want. Hay.

"Aha! Here's one!" I begin to think as I start perusing an ad of interest. "Good Orchard grass hay, very green and soft. Never been rained on. Good for horses and goats. $140 per ton." Then I see the bottom of the ad: "No delivery available." Sigh...

Next one up: "Excellent alfalfa hay. We've been doing business since 1987, and we repeatedly have the best hay around. $135 per ton and delivery is available for a nominal fee." The goats absolutely LOVE alfalfa hay! But I am yet again cast down, as I read their catch: You have to buy a minimum of 10 tons. Ouch.

I liked this one: "High quality Orchard grass hay. No weeds, no rain. Been stored in the barn. These are "lady sized" bales, weighing 55-60 lbs. each. $160 per ton; delivery available." I cracked up at the description of "lady sized" bales!! I actually would have contacted this person, but their Craigslist ad expired yesterday. Phooey.

I read through countless other ads. Good hay, bad hay. Brown hay, green hay. Expensive hay, dirt cheap hay. Cow hay, goat hay. Clover hay, fescue hay. Hay, hay, hay. Hmm, that sounds like something from Dr. Seuss...

Out of all those leads, I think I might have two that might work. But it is always so nerve wracking when buying a ton of it! More than once, I have shown up at a farmer's place to be shown his "High quality, green alfalfa hay", and my eyes beheld a stack of hay that more or less resembled a bleached pile of bones, than it did "high quality, green, alfalfa hay. Or I get there, and find out the the fella' forgot that I was coming. Or I buy an entire ton, and then the person not only brings the wrong kind, but the inside of the bales are moldy!! ARGH!!!

Now, I know that making hay is not easy. My hat is off to all hay farmers, and I have great respect for them. They have the weather to contend with each year, and they dance to a finicky tune that can turn ugly at any moment. But all I want is a ton of green, soft hay. The hay doesn't have to be a brilliant green; a soft, summer shade will do me. But yellow and brown are not okay in my book.

Despite the headaches and heartaches of hay hunting, there is nothing in life that fills me with more joy (I think it might even top newborn goat kids) than seeing a stack of hay in my own barn. It's passed all the tests, and now it's here. Perfuming the place with its intoxicating, floral scent, and sitting in a stack like an emperor on his throne. Hay is king here.

So my quest for the Holy Grail continues... I can't wait until it's over.

Out With The Old, In With The New

2011-12-31T22:40:00.000-08:00

Blogging at night seems to be growing on me... I think this is when all my writing juices are flowing, so even though my eyes are getting droopier and droopier, my brain seems to be getting perkier; or at least filled with a bunch of garbled paragraphs that I feel I have to write down. ;) I keep on telling myself I need to get a small notebook next to my bed, because it's usually around midnight that I will suddenly sit up in bed, with a grand blog post idea! I'll have it thought out perfectly, and it's such a fabulous topic, everyone will love it!! Whoohoo, aren't I grand?!

Then I've forgotten it by morning. [smacks forehead]

Where was I going with this? Night time blogging. Yes. It is night time right now... Okay, maybe my brain isn't quite as perky as I thought...

My clock says that it's 10:05pm. In exactly 1 hour and 55 minutes, we will officially be in 2012 (yeah, you East Coasters beat us to it; don't rub it in).

I realize that my video I made is really quite mournful, but seriously, that was my year. If I had to size up all of 2011, I have to say I am leaning towards calling it a rather crummy year. A lot of good things still happened, but the scales are tipping on the not-so-great side. I sold my cow. My garden failed. I lost six goats. We sold our chickens. I lost friends. I was depressed a lot this year.

But good things happened right along side of the bad. I taught my first workshop. I got past the first stages towards the Polyface internship. My knitted animals are selling like crazy. So is the goat milk soap. I started my first book. I started a yarn CSA. I raised and butchered 50 meat chickens, and sold them to customers. I got rabbits again. My neighbor asked me to farm her land (98 acres of good soil).

Looking at these lists, it seems like 2011 was actually a pretty good year. But it doesn't feel that way... My head says one thing, and my heart says the other. I'm learning that sometimes the heart knows best after all.

But gloom and doom aside, I am REALLY excited for 2012!!! To quote my blogger friend over at 'Barn Talk' (look on my blog list, on the sidebar for it), I think 2012 is going to be THE YEAR. The year when things start moving. The ball starts rolling.

I've come up with a list of things to do, should I not get the internship, so I think no matter what, this is going to be a busy and productive year. But believe me, I am going to do my absolute best to get an internship position. If I don't get it, I don't want it to be because I didn't work hard enough; I want it to be because someone worked harder than me. If I give it everything I've got, and another girl gets my place, I will feel that she was worthy of it, and I shall take a leaf from her page and work all the harder from then on. We'll find out in the beginning of February what the verdict is...

But what DO I want to do this year? Hehe, here's a list. This list doesn't mean everything on it will happen this year, but it's a list of priorities. Things I would love to see happen.

Go the the Small Farmer's Journal Auction.
Get a pair of bottle baby Boer wethers to train as a draft pair.
Attend Grape Lane Poultry Farm's "One Quarter Horse Power" workshop. How to train and use a saddle horse for draft! Not only could I use that knowledge for horses, but I could use it for the draft goats as well.
Teach more workshops! I am chomping at the bit to get more of these going. :)
Work with a local cheesemaker and learn the intricacies of the art. Making goat milk tommes are what I would love to learn...
Start getting some articles published! I send in article submissions to magazines every now and again, and while they usually turn out well in one way or another, I have yet to get something published for real. That will be a glorious day for me when I see my name at the bottom of an article in a magazine... [happy sigh]
Get more goats!! LOL. I need to get my herd numbers up before next breeding season (see? I'm already thinking ahead!).
Go to Ireland? Hey, don't laugh; I could do it if I wanted to... I have plans up my sleeve, but I'll play my cards when the time is right.
Try and finish my book! That's a good goal, right?
Anything else I can think of. :)

Bring it on. 2012 is gonna' be a good year. I'll make it be one.

It's Been A Year...

2011-12-31T14:19:00.000-08:00

What a year 2011 has been... It's been a roller coaster of ups and downs, ins and outs. On one hand, it feels like 2011 flew by, and I missed something; on the other hand, it feels like this chapter has drug on for entirely too long. I'm looking forward to 2012.

I'd Forgotten About These Pics...

2011-12-31T11:29:00.000-08:00

Capri, in April of 2011. Heavily pregnant at the time...

I always loved that black triangle she had at the base of her head...

Missing my girl today. :(

What You Might Call, "Hooked"

2011-12-29T21:06:00.000-08:00

I'm so pathetic. I laugh at myself as I see just how easily I'm pleased. ;)

We've been having a few water problems today; getting pressure right, and making sure that water continues to come out the faucet. That's always a good thing, right? Water coming out the kitchen faucet? I know I like it when that happens...

Anywho, water problems. We were having them.

Upon being warned not to turn on any faucets for awhile, I crossed my fingers, hoping that the animals would have enough in their buckets to last the night. I go out and see... An upturned bucket in the goat pen. The Nubians wiggled their ears in sheepish embarrassment, and Kiwi blushed. No one would fess up as to who did it, although Poppet declared quite loudly that it was not her.

So there I was, holding an empty bucket that needed to be filled. I stood there in the barn and listened to the rain patter away on the metal roof.

And then the lightbulb in my head came on. Personally, I really think I need to upgrade to maybe a 60 watt bulb now. I'm gettin' kind of tired with the 40 watt I seem to have right now... It's rather dim.

Duh. Rain. Roof. Gutter. Water.

With gleeful delight, I got to mess around with the water spout, in the pitch black dark, and attempt to get the bucket and said spout, attached once more to the gutter. After a lot of water down my coat sleeve, I got that fiend where it was supposed to be.

I counted the time, and in exactly 53 seconds, I had an overflowing 5 gallon bucket.

I was hooked. I started hunting around for another bucket to fill! Alas, I couldn't find any more than didn't already have a crack in the bottom, but now I want my own rain barrel with a spigot on it. ;)

I can't believe I never thought of it before. I live in one of the rainiest states, and I don't have a rain barrel system set up! Sheesh. But you have to remember that I have a 40 watt bulb. So I'm rather dim at times.

So that's how my evening was spent. In the dark, getting wet. You should try it sometime!

Rainin' Here This Mornin'

2011-12-29T17:02:00.000-08:00

Now, if I just had me a banjo and two other people. One with a guitar, and one with a mandolin. I think we could do a pretty good rendition of this song. :)

Tired

2011-12-29T16:07:00.000-08:00

5 hours and over 60 wheelbarrow loads later, my barn was clean.

I am dog tired now.

I've been letting the bedding sort of build up in the goat pen lately, due to being too busy during the mornings to get to it. But today I told myself that I absolutely HAD to do it. The majority of the bedding was one foot deep. Some places were deeper. And the pen is 12' wide, by 25' long. That's a lot of bedding!!

So I forked, shoveled, and carted my morning away. It rained the whole time, which then made me start belting out the old folk song "Rainin' Here This Mornin'". I like that song...

"It's rainin', rainin', rainin' here this morning! As the Mississippi flows onto the sea!"

When you live in Oregon, you learn to work through the rain, simply because it's almost always raining here! You just have to put your head down, and slog your way through the job until it's done. I did a lot of slogging today...

But my hard work is evident. Not only is there a clean goat pen in the barn, but I have two manure piles waiting to decompose. Each pile is 3' high, and 10' in diameter. Big piles. Those will compost down and be used for the garden next year.

Hard work makes me happy. :)

The Graphite Goat

2011-12-28T14:26:00.000-08:00

I love drawing. But I'm not very good at it. I'm a perfectionist by nature when it comes to pencils and ink, and that, mixed with lack of talent, never ends well. I'm really good at stick figures though! ;)

I took art lessons for several years in a row, awhile back, and I remember one thing my art teacher was always saying was, "Loosen your hand up! Use long, smooth strokes! Just relax!"

When I draw, I tend to use hard, short detailed strokes. I tense up and then get discouraged because the end result is not only the size of an eraser, but it looks pretty bad as well. If I can use a grid though, I can draw quite well. But using a grid has always seemed like cheating to me...

Today I had the itch to pick up my pencil and sketch pad. My knitting needles have a half finished goat on them, but I couldn't knit at the moment. I wanted to draw, and feel the paper, charcoal and graphite coming together to create a new medium.

My old art teacher would have been pleased with me today. My work is far from looking nice (looks like a Kindergartner did it), but I actually managed to use long, sweeping strokes!!

Capri has been on my mind lately, so while listening to the mournful theme song from 'Black Beauty', I drew her...

Yeah, this is a really blocky looking goat, and she lacks detail, but I wasn't going for that today. I wanted to see how few strokes I could use and still end up with something that resembled a goat.

I wanted an essence, so to say.

I think I ended up doing six or seven goat pictures... Some in black and white, some in charcoal, and some in color. Charcoal is probably my favorite medium to use when drawing. I like the feel, sound and look of it. And the mess... I like the mess that gets all over your hands. :)

I had planned on dyeing some fiber today as well, but the pot I need is in use, as some ham & bean soup simmers on the stove top. So that will have to wait until the 'morrow. I have a particular colorway in mind, too... It will have a name somewhere along the lines of, "Nubian Grace". :)

Stoked

2011-12-28T11:54:00.000-08:00

Ooooh, I am stoked right now!!

In my post below about the upcoming goat conference, I jokingly commented that I should offer to teach a class.

And then I stopped in mid-sentence. Why not? Why couldn't I reach for the stars and pursue the thought? So I wrote y'all to stay tuned, as I had a "light bulb idea".

Upon finishing that post, I shot an e-mail off to the chairman of the conference, simply asking if they would be interested in another topic of interest being taught that day. My class choice? Herbal remedies for goats.

I received a reply this morning.

It was a "Yes" and a "No". Apparently they had already planned for such a class to be hosted, and had asked two different herbal doctors to teach it. Neither one of them have replied yet, and the chairman has said that if there is no reply in the next few days, the position is mine!

Hoorah!! I may very well not get the position, but there's still a chance!!! :D

I must admit that I love teaching. I love it more than writing, and it's in second place to raising animals. I love that look that people get, when they finally "get it!" You see the realization dawn on their faces, and their delighted expressions as they find that they know what they're doing. People who once had no clue as to what they were doing; all they knew was that they wanted to know how to do it. They wanted that knowledge. And it never fails to bring me immense pleasure to help them on their way.

So we'll see! I just may be teaching at the Northwest Oregon Dairy Goat Association's Goat Conference in February!! That's an exciting thought. :)

Oh Say Can You See...

2011-12-27T21:12:00.000-08:00

Origin of photo unknown

The Liberty Bell.

The White House.

Fort McHenry.

The Lincoln Memorial.

Independence Hall.

I have never seen any of those. But my chance just might be coming!

There's been a slight change of plans in my flight to VA. Instead of coming home on the 20th, I will be going home with my Aunt and Uncle in Maryland until the 25th!! They are tempting me with suggestions of going to see some historical sights, possibly going to Lancaster PA (Amish country!!), and who knows what else they've got up their sleeves. :) I am beyond excited. What could be a better way to end a visit at Polyface Farms?

Don't get too far away now, my flight leaves in 21 days! :D

Attention Goat Raising Oregonians!

2011-12-27T19:54:00.000-08:00

Look what's coming up on February 25th, 2012!

The Northwest Oregon Dairy Goat Association is hosting their 24th annual goat conference in Clackamas County! I have yet to find out what they're charging, but methinks I'm going to have to figure out some way to scoot over there to attend. :) Looks like there's going to be some good topics covered, and I'm hearing rumors about an AI workshop! Yes, I'm hopeless. You know you're a true-blue goat fanatic when you are actually excited about doing AI, and you can talk about nitrogen tanks, and speculums as easily as talking about a new pair of shoes. Oh, and if you don't know what I'm talking about. That's okay. You don't want to know. ;)

I believe the link below will take you to the flyer giving some information... (and you'll have to click to zoom, so you can read the words!)

http://bellafirefarm.webs.com/Publication2.jpg

The NWODGA's website can be found HERE and they will update the conference page as they get more info.

Hmmm, maybe I could teach a class there... That might grant me free admission... Stay tuned on that one; I'm having a sudden lightbulb idea! [laughs evilly and skulks away]

Guess What I Got...

2011-12-27T13:09:00.000-08:00

I'm sure you'll never guess. ;)

A rose colored Carhartt coat! I love it! :)

I also got my favorite movie of all time: Miss Potter

(it's an excellent movie, if you have yet to see it!)

What fun things did you get for Christmas? :)

Tomorrow

2011-12-25T15:43:00.000-08:00

I hope y'all are having a wonderful day today!!

Alas, we decided to celebrate Christmas on the 26th this year, since my older brother and his fiance both have to work today. [sad face] But their work shifts end tomorrow morning (both work at a Rural/Metro fire dept.), so we will all get together then and have a grand celebration! So today feels more like Christmas Eve to me... Everyone at church was saying "Merry Christmas!" but it didn't feel like Christmas to me. That's tomorrow. So today feels like an average day. We had pizza for lunch; a quirky holiday tradition we started about five years ago. I don't even remember why we started that, but we don't have ham or turkey for Christmas, we have pizza and whatever goodies we made the day before. Oh and let's not forget the the cinnamon rolls for breakfast. Mmmm. Now, I'm all for healthy eating, and homemade foods, but at Christmas time, I chuck every single one of those rules out the window for the entire day. I will eat healthy for 364 days of the year. Grant me ONE day where I can eat junk food. So our cinnamon rolls are the store bought kind that come in a can. I can't even say half of the ingredients listed on there, and I know its history of its making. But boy do they taste good... ;) And the pizza is from Costo. Hehe. But by the time Christmas is over, I'm ready to go back to homemade foods and my veggies. I think a small bit of junk food is good for everyone. Makes you appreciate the good stuff all the more.

The goats are all outside enjoying their own Christmas. Freshly cut pine branches, molasses water, and some small toys I gave them which consist of a straw bale for their jumping/scrambling/rubbing enjoyment, and a big yellow ball. Poppet adores that ball (it stands taller than her!), and pushes it around the pen in glee. They are such content creatures... A straw bale and a yellow ball... They are so delighted with these small tokens! An online friend of mine gave her goats a Christmas tree of their own, but she used peanut butter to "glue" candy canes and animal crackers onto the branches. Ingenious!!! Made me wish I had a tree I could give my goats! LOL.

I've been watching some 'Victorian Farm' episodes this afternoon. A nice way, really, to spend a quiet Sunday. These are absolutely delightful to watch!! I love them! I want to live the way they do so badly that it aches... But it is very enjoyable getting to watch these and learn from them. :)

Again, I hope you have a very Merry Christmas!! You probably won't hear from me again until Tuesday! :)

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-24T16:47:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas everyone!

I've spent the majority of my day listening to this song. Good King Wenceslas, by Loreena McKennit. :)

Miss Jane Clucky

2011-12-24T13:24:00.000-08:00

I am beginning to work on a knitted farmyard set for a friend, but first needed to make some "mock-ups" to get an idea of scale. So here's a practice chicken: Miss Jane Clucky. :)

A Breed Apart

2011-12-22T18:08:00.000-08:00

The most frequently asked question that people ask me about goats is, "What is the difference in each breed's milk taste, and how much milk do they average." And that is always one of the hardest questions to answer, simply because there really aren't any solid answers I can give! Each individual goat is going to have its own amount of milk it's going to give, and it's going to have its own taste. Think of it like a grab bag. You never know what you're going to get.

But that sounds rather discouraging. How on earth is a body supposed to choose a goat breed if they're hesitant about each one? Over the years, I've had the privilege to own almost all the dairy breeds out there, and then try the milk from countless of other goats. Through much experience (read: trial and error as we bought goats that gave horrid tasting milk!), I've gotten to know each breed's quirks and histories, and I've come to realize that it actually is possible to give people an idea of what to expect from each breed.

So I thought I would go through the breeds here and introduce them to y'all. I would like to state again though, that each goat will vary. I know people who swear that Saanens give the best tasting milk above all other goats, and other people who wouldn't touch a Saanen with a 10 foot pole. So this post is going to have a lot of blanket statements, as I try and give you an overview of the dairy breeds. Bear with me here.

Photo courtesy of Redwood Hill Farm

First off would be the Saanen. This lovely doe is owned by Redwood Hill Farm. Saanens are one of, if not THE, top producers of the dairy breeds. 2-3 gallons per day is not uncommon, although most will average 1 1/2 gallons per day. Their downside is that their butterfat is only 2% to 3%. Now, if you are used to drinking two percent milk from the grocery store, then you would probably do alright with these big gals. But if you've tasted other raw milks like Jersey cow, or Nubian or Nigerian goat milk, you might be disappointed. In plain English, it's rather bland and watery.

Side note: as we go along, and I'm jabbering on and on about butterfat percentages, and you have no idea how to imagine that. Compare it with store bought milk. That 1/2 and 1/2 cream you buy from there would be the equivalent of almost 10% butterfat. Two percent milk is, of course, 2% butterfat. In my mind, I imagine a cream line. If you are familiar with raw cow milk and how the cream rises then you might understand better.

Back to the goats now.

Photo courtesy of Iron Rod French Alpines

Next up is the Alpine. This gorgeous gal is called 'Iron Rod Rhett Stunning'. Aptly named. Iron Rod farms is one of the top leading Alpine breeders in the Nation. And by the way, I'm posting pictures of what I feel are the best examples of each breed. I've chosen pictures from top breeders so you can see just what "a good one looks like".

Alpines probably vary the most when it comes to milk taste. They really do vary from breeder to breeder. The majority though, give really nice tasting milk. Alpines are no-nonsense milkers, and are very steady producers. Milk averages also vary, but a decent Alpine should give at least 1 gallon per day. Really good Alpines will give 2 to 3 gallons per day. Butterfat content is about 3.5% so sweeter than the Saanen, but not overbearingly rich. These are good gals.

Photo courtesy of Saada Nubians

And then we have the Nubians... Oh I love this black doe. This is 'Saada's El-Pekah' and my all time favorite doe. This is what a Nubian should look like. Nubians vary greatly in milk averages simply because there are so many bad specimens of them out there, and so many people who don't breed for better goats. A good Nubian can keep the pace with her European cousins very well, and easily give 2 gallons a day, but that's a pretty high amount. 1 gallon is pretty average for a fairly decent doe. I like to see first fresheners (term for a 1 year old doe who has kidded for the first time) giving 3/4 gallon per day. That's my standard. If you look on Craigslist though, you'll most likely see a lot of older Nubians who are called "excellent milkers" as they give 1/2 gallon per day. Whoop de doo. Their milk is sweet tasting, and averaging 4% to 5% in butterfat. I have yet to meet a Nubian who gave funny tasting milk.

Photo courtesy of Royal Cedars Dairy

Toggenburgs are next up. These ladies are impressive milkers, pumping out 2 gallons or more each day while remaining steady in production. This doe pictured is a recently deceased doe named, 'Easter' from some fellow breeders over at Royal Cedars. However, these goats originated in the Swiss Alps and were bred specifically for strong, goaty tasting milk. And many Toggs hold true to that! I've spoken with quite a few Togg breeders and they will sheepishly admit that they don't drink their milk; they keep Nubians, or some other breed to supply drinking milk. Their Toggs are just for show. But, if you like goaty flavored milk, maybe this is your breed! Butterfat content hovers around 3%. Same as the Alpines.

Photo courtest of Ober-Boerd Dairy Goats

And the Oberhaslis... Oh I love the way the "Obers" look. Oberhaslis are excellent producers, just like the rest of their European cousins. Two gallons per day is considered normal for many breeders, and three gallons isn't uncommon. Butterfat is close to the Toggenburg and the Alpine as they stick close to 2.5% to 3.5%. But, just like the Toggs, Oberhaslis are a Swiss breed, and they have the trademark taste. Strong tasting. I remember my first Oberhasli doe I had... Her name was Alexis and I loved her to pieces. But I honestly thought she had mastitis when I tried her milk for the first time. I took a small jar to the breeder and asked what was wrong. She tasted it and said nothing was wrong: that's what Ober milk tastes like! Needless to say, Alexis went back to the breeder. I've had a handful of other people ask this same question. Why does their lovely Oberhasli's milk taste like the animal has mastitis?? I do have a friend in Ohio who says her Obers give normal tasting milk though, so it's possible that some breeders have been able to eliminate that gene from their herd. My advice is if you're looking at purchasing an Oberhasli, try her milk. If she's a doeling, try her mother's milk.

Photo courtesy of Alder*Rose Dairy Goats

La Manchas: I have to say, I really like La Manchas. An Oregonian breed, La Manchas give large quantities of sweet tasting milk. Most does average 1-2 gallons per day, and butterfat percentage is usually 4% to 4.5%. Calm, steady does, if you don't mind the ears (or lack of them), La Manchas are a really good choice. And if you don't like their ears, buy one anyway. You'll be hooked soon after. ;)

Oh, and this gal is from Alder*Rose Dairy Goats. :)

Photo courtesy of Dragonfly Farm

Nigerians are a fun breed. This particular doe is from Dragonfly Farm, over in MA. Does can give from 2 cups, to 3/4 a gallon per day. I have a friend who has two does that each give 1/2 gallon per day, and it amazes me every time I see those does. They're only eighteen inches tall! Butterfat ranges from 6% to 10%. So there's your cream for the morning coffee! does will start at 6% in the beginning of their lactation, and by the time they hit their peak (8 weeks) the butterfat will have risen to 8% to 10%. This stuff is sooooo good. ;) But then, I'm a cream lover. No two percent for me! LOL. I would say a good average is three cups of milk per day from each doe. That's what I hear from most breeders.

Photo courtesy of Rubystar Guernseys and Nubians

Lastly, but not leastly, is the Guernsey. Pictured is Bluecollar Garnet, who happens to also be Kiwi's dam (Kiwi is my Guernsey cross for those of you who are new here). Guernseys are still considered a rare breed here in the USA, and breeders are still trying to get good foundation lines down. But I'm hearing an average of 1 gallon per day from many does, and butterfat percentages are usually 6% to 8%. So their milk is sweeter than Nubians, but not so sweet as Nigerians. Guernseys are one of the best breeds for forage based dairies, as they are able to efficiently convert grass to milk, whereas the high producing breeds like the Alpine, Saanen, Toggenburg, and Oberhasli need grain in order to keep production up.

So there you have it! An idea of what to expect from each breed!

The Latest Addition

2011-12-22T13:00:00.000-08:00

The knitted goats were getting bored, and wanted some different company other than that of more goats.

So I obligingly made Rosie for them...

Made with baby pink yarn of oh-so-soft cotton, Rosie doesn't fail to bring a smile around here. :)

Yep, we got ourselves a pig around here.

Miss Rosie appears to be a purebred Yorkshire gilt (Yorkshire is a breed; 'gilt' is a term for a young female hog), and true to porcine fashion, she is quite rotund.

I had a few other name ideas for her, but went with Rosie in the end, in honor of Katherine Dunn's adorable Potbellied porker. (click link to be taken to Katherine's blog)

Unlike most pigs though, this Rosie doesn't eat much, which pleases me. I do tend to like the feed efficient types...

The pattern I used was... Interesting. I had bought it so I could make pigs that were to scale with the rest of my barnyard animals, but I found out after buying it that this pig is 6.5" high and 8" long. Way too big!!

But oh well. She's cute. I'll just have to tweak the pattern some, to get the right size.

I did also make a trio of sheep and a Border Collie dog this week, but I had a stroke of forgetfulness and completely forgot to get pictures of them before I shipped them off! Argh!

Next up on my needles are a few horses, and then most like more goats! LOL. I have been tickled pink at all the orders that have been coming in lately! Very nice...

Awww

2011-12-21T09:29:00.000-08:00

This made me smile as I watched the little gamboling kids, and then made me sigh; knowing I won't have any this spring.

Thought I'd share it with y'all. :)

Guardians of the Winter Home

2011-12-20T13:49:00.000-08:00

"Don't be afraid. My beard is long, my head is large, my look is grim, but that matters not. I won't bite you. In spite of my big mouth and grim appearance, I look with my heart for your happiness."

~Steinbach Nutcracker history~

If there is one thing in life that I love collecting, it's nutcrackers.

We have somewhere around 37 or 38 nutcrackers right now; all ranging from 3 inches to 18 inches. Soldiers to bakers. Snowmen to Spaniards with guitars. Moose to US Marines. Seamstresses to Hockey players. Policemen to penguins.

They stand guard in the house, baring their teeth at strangers and grimly keeping their post. Well, now that I think about it, the penguin nutcracker might be smiling... Hmm, I'll have to go have a chat with him about that later. But setting out the nutcrackers is my favorite part of Christmas. It's like seeing old friends as we unwrap their wooden faces from the newspaper that has protected them for the last eleven months.

Their wood is cold as we fish them out from the Christmas box... They've been hibernating in the shop since last December. They smell faintly of dampness, but it wears off as they warm up inside. We discuss where to put each one, so that it can show off it's uniqueness to its best advantage. The candy striped baker somehow ends up standing next to the camouflage Army soldier, the penguin is next to the cowboy. The Spaniard strums his instrument next to the drummers, and the seamstress smiles next to the snowman.

Each year, we try to add two or three new nutcrackers to the growing collection. This is no ordinary search, though. It's a hunt. Not just any nutcracker will do; it has to be the most unique one we can find that year. Something needs to make it stand out from the rest of his nutcracking mates before we will consider him. We scour the local shops, finding the perfect "him", and oh the glory when we succeed in our quest! Our newest addition is carefully brought home, and then proudly displayed with the rest.

Yet another guardian of the winter home.

Best Places to Hide Christmas Presents

2011-12-20T13:11:00.000-08:00

Christmas is almost here! But where to hide those presents so no one finds them?!?! Here are a few places that should work, should you need some ideas...

1. In the oven. But please remember to take the gift our before baking!

2. Up the chimney. This is an especially good spot if you don't mind a bit of soot on the wrapping paper...

3. Inside the turkey. C'mon, who on earth would think to look for their present inside the Christmas turkey!?

4. Underneath the cat. You can't go wrong on this one.

5. On top of the mantle. No one looks there because it's too easy.

6. Underneath the car hood. Excellent spot, that one is... Guys, this is probably the best place to hide gifts for the gal in your life! She'll never look there!

7. Inside the piano. See? Those monstrous instruments do have a use!

8. Inside a tissue box. Genius... Pure genius...

9. In the animal's feed bin. Who wouldn't love a gift that smells faintly of grain, and has a slight tack from molasses?

10. In the lawnmower bag. I think this is your best bet if secrecy is vital.

11. Glued to the bottom of a dining room chair. You might try the guerrilla glue... Super glue has a tendency to stop working at odd moments.

And Number 12. Beneath the Christmas tree. Because, after all, who on earth would look there for a hidden present...?

Perspective

2011-12-17T21:11:00.000-08:00

Photo courtesy of Flickr

One day, the father of a very wealthy family took his son on a trip to the country with the express purpose of showing him how poor people live. They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be considered a very poor family.

On their return from their trip, the father asked his son, "What did you think of the trip?"

"It was great, Dad."

"Did you see how the poor people lived?" The father asked.

"Oh yeah." Said the son.

"So, tell me, what did you learn from the trip?" Asked the father.

The son answered:

"I saw that we have one dog, and they have four. We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden, and they have a creek that has no end. We have imported lanterns in our garden, and they have the stars at night. Our patio reaches to the front yard, and they have the whole horizon. We have a small piece of land to live on, and they have fields that go beyond our sight. We have servants who serve us, but they serve others. We buy our food, but they grow theirs. We have walls around our property to protect us; they have friends to protect them."

The boy's father was speechless.

Then his son added, "Thanks Dad for showing me how poor we are."

Isn't perspective a wonderful thing? Makes you wonder what would happen if we all gave thanks for everything we have, instead of worrying about what we don't have...

~Author of story unknown~

Cramming

2011-12-15T20:16:00.000-08:00

If my blog posts seem to be rather erratic these days, it's because they are.

Christmas will be nine days away come tomorrow, and I am frantically trying to finish up the last orders for knitted goats!! I think I have to make two more, and then finish two up before I'm done... I made two goats today, and seeing as each goat takes three hours to make, that means I sat on my duff for six solid hours on this fine day with needles and yarn in my hands.

It was nice. ;)

Yesterday morning was gloriously spent at the town library, as the family dropped me off and went to do errands. The fines on my library card were a testament to how much time has lapsed since I was last there, but I paid those pesky things with a smile. I got to go to the library!! Whoohoo! And not only did I get to explore endless aisles of books, but I even got to take my own sweet time. If I'm rushed, I can get in and out of that library in 45 minutes. Don't ask how long I was there yesterday... Just know that my "book crate on wheels" was groaning precariously, and I did have to kick the bottom back together twice. But I did it out of sight from the librarians, so they wouldn't know who was doing the horrendous banging. I checked out my boat load of books and started on down to historic 3rd Street.

Admittedly, I did feel a little conspicuous traveling down the street with a black, plastic crate on wheels that looked like it might fall apart at any moment, but I wasn't going too far, so I didn't worry about it too much. My destination after the library was the 'Knitting Basket'. My favorite yarn store. And oh did I shop... It's always more fun to shop when you're not spending your own money, as was my case that day. I received a check in the mail to pay for the supplies to make 50-100 knitted goats, and I was now buying those supplies.

I was like a kid in a candy store.

After much hunting around, and petting of skeins, I settled on my choices and un-gracefully plopped my purchases onto the store counter. They really should look into getting baskets there.... True to typical fashion, I always find more things after I've paid. So I had to get back in line again. But what I got was worth it... I've unashamedly lusted after these for over a year now, so I told myself "Merry Christmas", and bought myself a present.

Square, Rosewood knitting needles.

Fellow knitters, please swoon.

Non-knitters, please raise an eyebrow and give me an indulgent smile.

Thank you.

I'll have to get a picture of my treasure sometime tomorrow, but I am head over heels in love with these new needles. I mean, come on, how often do you see square knitting needles? And Rosewood ones? Shucks, here's the debit card lady, please put the needles in my bag. Eighty percent of my reason for getting them is pure novelty. I wanted to try them out! The other 20% of my reasoning was I wanted to see if they helped my wrists at all. The packaging of course claims that it's better for your hands and cuts down on muscle fatigue, and blah, blah, blah, but doesn't everything say that? Okay maybe not everything, but it's close. Back to the original subject though: My left wrist doesn't function properly, ever since I broke it in a horse accident three years ago. The bone wasn't set properly, so it causes a lot of pain these days. I wasn't expecting these needles to be a magic solution, but I figured I could pay ten bucks and see if the hype was true or not.

I haven't used my new needles enough to know if they do what is said they will do, but at this point I don't care. I love 'em. :)

So yes, I am cramming my days with knitted goats. I'm stressing because I still need to get this month's CSA yarn shipment off, I need to make more soap out of that lard, and I have things to do outside. I'm trying not to stress, but it still creeps up on me at odd moments throughout the day.

Other than the six hours working on goats, I got to hop over to a friend's house to see their new Nubian goats, and help them milk their new gal. I guess I shouldn't say "new" goats, seeing as one is Shilling, who was mine, and the other is a doe from a fellow breeder. But hey, they're new to my friends, so therefore they are new to me. And boy howdy do I like that older doe of theirs... Her name is Lily, and wow. What. A. Looker. I told my friends that if she has two doelings (they plan on keeping one) I dibs the second. I ~~need~~ want a doeling from this gal. She's chocolate brown in color, and absolutely huge. She is thick, heavyset, massive... Are those all synonyms? Eh, if they are, I'm using them as if they weren't. She's a big girl. You can't think the word "petite" around her without laughing. My Saanen/La Mancha doe, Heidi, is almost 200 lbs. and I can handle her pretty well. I grabbed Lily's collar to take her to the milk stand, and she started walking in the opposite direction and dragged me with her! I actually fell over and slid across the straw as she nonchalantly walked away. Stubborn. Powerful. Interesting mix.

Here's a pic of her majesty:

Picture courtesy of Royal Cedar's Nubians

Do you see now why I want one of her daughters?

I also sold my young rabbits this evening. Four young bucks, and two does. I was going to butcher the males, but decided that I need some money right now more than I need rabbit meat. I kept one male out of that litter. The biggest one of them all, and he's blue! I'm a sucker for blues. It was an interesting evening. I've been raising rabbits for eight years now, but that gentleman made me feel like I know absolutely nothing. I think it was the way he talked down to me... I felt like a 10 year old again standing there with my rabbits. Or maybe it was that he said my buck (Basil Stag Hare, my massive fella') was nothing special. It certainly didn't help matters that when I'm trying to get him to realize that I'm not some dumb kid raising rabbits as a hobby, my New Zealand doe, 'Rosie Cotton' comes hopping into the barn. 45 feet from the rabbitry.

That was embarrassing.

I assured the man that this was the first escapee I've ever had, and his answer was simply, "Somehow I don't think it will be your last."

Humph.

But he bought my youngters, and left. I should be content, not disgruntled. Maybe I'm a little bit of both.

And now that I have hopelessly rambled this way and that, I really should sign off and go do my evening chores. And then go start knitting again...

Toodle pip and cheerio, dear readers! I can't tell you how much I appreciate knowing that people actually stop by this little place to read my rambles. Makes this country girl smile. :)

Interesting...

2011-12-15T19:24:00.000-08:00

I'm not hugely into politics of this sort, but I thought this was interesting to hear Ron Paul's opinion on raw milk.

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Cold Morning

2011-12-14T10:49:00.000-08:00

I loved this morning... It was cold outside.

Ice cold.

Freezing cold.

Burning cold.

The kind that makes your hands turn bright red, and your ears tingle with pain. You wish you had some earmuffs, and a better pair of gloves.

Cold.

You tromp from the house to the barn, four times. Thawing and filling frozen water buckets. You're cold.

The water sloshes around in an old, cracked bucket and spills right onto your boot. Right onto the crack that's on the old boot. Your foot is cold. And wet.

Your nose starts to run, you can't bend your fingers, your ears hurt like the dickens, the goats are grumpy, and your feet are wet.

And I smiled at that moment. I like cold mornings, not because of the inconveniences of it, but because of the wonderful feeling that you get when you go inside...

Breakfast was ready and waiting for me. Hot tea, scrambled eggs, toast, and an orange. The fire was crackling merrily, and I felt warm and velvety.

Oh yeah. This is the life...

Denotes A Lack of Courage

2011-12-13T19:25:00.000-08:00

"My Dear Friend, when will you learn that being 'normal' is not always a virtue? It sometimes denotes a lack of courage."

~Anonymous

For Sale, Sale Pending, Sold.

2011-12-12T17:03:00.000-08:00

What a week this last one has been... I used to shake my head at the saying, "Money makes the world go 'round", but since these past few days I'm feeling more apt to nod my head in reluctant agreement. Little Shilling, my spotted Nubian doeling is finally at her new home. I've been waiting to re-home her for almost two months now!

Shilling. Summer of 2011.

I have to admit that I'm glad she's gone. I was beginning to resent her presence, which is a new feeling in regards to my own goats. She was such a beautiful girl... Lovely topline, nice rear leg angulation and brisket extension, good ear length and she was spotted to boot! But her mouth wasn't figured right, and it drove me crazy. I was so close to having a nice replacement goat for some of the ones I lost this year, but that underbite washed my hopes and dreams down the drain. You see, it wasn't just that SHE had an underbite. Both of her parents did too. Which means that Shilling will more than likely throw kids who will have underbites. So it wasn't worth my keeping a doe whom I couldn't show, and whom I couldn't keep or sell kids from. It was more than just her mouth however, that made me not like her. Every time I looked at her, all I could see was her dead mother, father, and brother. All her family was dead, and that without remedy. Looking at her was looking at failure and regrets. The poor thing had no inkling of all this, and I tried to treat her nicely, just like any animal. But I didn't love her. And never could. 'Tis true, 'tis pity, and pity 'tis, 'tis true!

My only choices of dealing with her were to either slaughter her, send her to the auction where no one would no where she came from, or give her away for free to someone so that my herd name is not attached to her. I opted for the last. She is now an unregistered, nameless nobody of a goat. She bears not my title of 'Goat Song', and never will. But she is in a place where she is being loved beyond belief. Her new owners know why I couldn't keep her, why her mouth keeps her from being a fancy show goat, but they don't care. She's a pet now. Her spots and endearing face stripes are her glory, and she thrives on the attention. Silly ol' Shil... That's what I would call her: "Shil", and nothing more. I'd poke my head out from the barn and holler, "Hey Shil! Come here!" and she would come running as fast as her short legs could carry her. Silly Shilly... 'Tis True, 'tis pity, and pity 'tis, 'tis true!

What with the departure of Shilling, an unexpected opportunity arose. A friend of mine told me of a nice buck for sale up in WA. for the steal of a price of only $100. It was a liquidation sale, I later found out, and oh goodness me... That buck... I wanted him so horribly bad.

He went by the handle of Seattle, but that wasn't what caught my attention. It was his pedigree. He was of 'Copper-Hill' bloodlines, which I happen to really like, and his sire was my all time favorite buck, 'Copper-Hill Breakaway's Sonset.

Breakaway Sonset. Picture courtesy of Remuda-Nubians in WA.

Now, I realize that to you non-goaty people, he may look like a rather ugly fella'. But to us hardcore Nubian breeders, this is beauty in flesh. I drool just looking at this guy. He may not look like anything special, but his daughters are breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking.

So there I was: salivating on my laptop's keyboard over a male goat named Seattle. Oh dearie me... Having that guy would have jumped my breeding plans ahead by two or three years. Just thinking of the kids from a cross with him and Ivy was enough to make me run and get a towel in case of yet another need to wipe the keyboard dry. I jumped into action and after a flurry of e-mails I had transportation worked out, Seattle was going to have a blood test done for CAE today (I always take precautions and test new goats), and if all went according to the plan, he very well could have been in my barn by Saturday.

And then fate reared its ugly head. Someone flashed some cash and bought him right beneath my nose, on Sunday afternoon.

Seattle is gone now. So are my hopes. I feel a little deflated. One moment I was beaming from ear to ear at the thought of finally having my own herdsire (I've been hunting for three years now!), and the next moment I stared at the computer screen that had words that said, "Sorry, he sold today."

Ouch. Money makes the world go 'round. Whoever holds up a dollar bill first wins the game. Or in this case, the stud. Phooey.

My barn seems so quiet today. Only five goats are in there. Only five. But I suppose five is better than four, so I'll quit grouching now, and be content. :)

Goats... Where would we be without those creatures? ;)

Torture... Pure Torture...

2011-12-12T16:22:00.000-08:00

It came today... Baker Creek's 2012 seed catalog!

And not only did ONE catalog come in the mail, but by some sort of blip I received TWO catalogs! ;)

Alas, I have firmly told myself that I will under no circumstances open either of those catalogs until I am on the airplane on January 17th. Bound for Virginia.

And it's torture... Pure torture... This year's beautiful catalog is 196 pages of gardening bliss. And let's not forget the 120 "new" varieties that they've added to their stock... My goodness, that catalog has enough heft to feel like a book!

I so badly want to look through it... Just a peek.

But no, I must stick to my goal and keep it for the 10 hour flight that looms in just 36 days. I can't even think about the plane trip without feeling a knot in my stomach.. I like traveling as much as people enjoy getting the flu. It ain't fun in my book.

Does anyone else here look forward to receiving their yearly seed catalogs?

No Words Today

2011-12-10T20:41:00.000-08:00

No words will come today... My mind seems as though caught in the same fog that I've seen out the window these past couple of days. Deep fog... Draping itself over everything in sight. Settling silently, asking no one's permission, enshrouding all that it touches... Fog.

A few things are in the works over here, but I'm not quite ready to reveal what they are. Maybe on Monday...

Until then, I shall try and see if I can't get this dreadful brain fog to lift...

K2, P2, SSK, PSSO, K to last 2, K2Tog

2011-12-08T17:40:00.000-08:00

During WWII, it wasn't uncommon to see ordinary women pulled aside and questioned thoroughly by the secret police who had glimpsed something akin to my title, sitting on these ladies' laps while they were out and about in town. K2, P2, SSK, PSSO, K to last 2, K2Tog??? Surely it's a code written out by some genius, holding in it's puzzle the answer to total global denomination, and these women have to get those directions to the enemy who is paying a fortune for it.

Turns out it wasn't quite what those police officers had first thought. After much enlightenment, the women were allowed to go free, and keep their coded papers. For you see, what they had was not a mind boggling jigsaw puzzle. No, it was only their knitting directions.

I had always said I would never knit. My earliest memories accompanied by that mere word were flashbacks to scratchy hats made with burnt orange Acrylic yarn, or worse, something made with the rainbow dyed acrylic that always seems to be on sale in JoAnne's Fabrics. You know, the skeins that look like someone put a poisonous snake into a blender and then copied the resulting colorway? Yep, that one.

But that wasn't the only reason I firmly said I would never stoop to that old craft. Open up any knitting book and prepare to be overwhelmed by pages upon pages that all say unintelligible sentences.K2, P2, SSK, PSSO, K to last 2, K2Tog? What on earth does that mean!?!? Not to mention you have to use those pointy sticks, er, needles that look like something from a toy knight's medieval jousting match... And you have to use TWO of those pointy needles! Sure, I may have two hands, but I only have ONE brain! Let's not forget all the mathematical knots you have to make with those tot-sized lances, either. Good heavens, you start taking pride in the fact that you finally learned the knit stitch, when you realize in dismay that now you have the learn how to do the purl stitch! Maybe people take up knitting as a way to act as a martyr... Hmm.

I did try knitting once, when I was about fourteen. And quickly threw the needles down in despair. My brain wasn't up to par when it came to battling the inanimate objects of wood and string. Nope, not I.

I continued on in my teen years, carefully avoiding all things related to knitting.

But then I learned to spin my own yarn...

And I wanted to make a baby hat...

And not only does making a baby hat involve picking up knitting needles, it involves using five needles at one time. To this day, I am still shocked that I did not faint during that adventure.

Somehow, some way, through much help of experience knitters, and pure stubbornness on my part, I found a hat starting to come off of my needles. And then I realized something as time went on: This knitting stuff was actually kind of fun! I swallowed some crow, and bought some better needles. I was done for. I'm just as bad as any knitter in these parts. Oohing and Aahing over yarns and square knitting needles. We jockey each other to feel the new cashmere yarn that has just come to the store in town, and we collectively sigh over the fingering weight baby alpaca. I rather like this textile world. Nowadays, making socks isn't beyond me, and someday I'm going to finish a whole shawl... I've got a couple in the makings but they can't seem to get past lift-off.

K2, P2, SSK, PSSO, K to last 2, K2Tog? Bring it on. I know your game now, Ms. Knitting Code, and I accept your challenge. Let me grab my rapier of a knitting needle and we'll have a showdown...

A Good Feeling

2011-12-08T16:30:00.000-08:00

One thing I love in life is that nice feeling I get when putting food up. Whether it's homemade bread into the freezer, canned foods that we have worked on over the summer, now going into the pantry, or homegrown meats going into the deep freeze. Ever felt that way before? It's sort of a "Come what may; I am prepared" feeling. I always smile when putting that food away for future meals. It's a good thing.

Today's work consisted of, ahem, *harvesting* the meat rabbits. I find that the word "butchering" bothers some folks, so I stick with the slightly more discreet term of 'harvesting' for sake of courtesy.

Now, I really don't like harvesting animals. Believe me, I don't. I am an animal lover right down to my toes, but I'm also a carnivore. And I'm a carnivore who feels convicted to take part in the responsibility of knowing where my meat came from, how it was raised, and then how it was processed. I just feel that if I'm going to take part in eating meat; in eating another living, breathing creature, I want to take full responsibility for it from start to finish. If you have never raised your own animal for meat, and then butchered it yourself, let me tell you something: It will change you. Eating meat from the grocery store is a mindless act; you simply consume it, not knowing any of the animals history. Eating an animal that you raised yourself gives you a sense of pride and self-sufficiency. But raising and then processing your own animal will give the ultimate feeling. It's a mix of pride and humbleness. You know the entire story. You see before you on the plate what was once a black rabbit with a white blaze, who's name was Felix. You'll say to yourselves: "My goodness that rabbit could jump high... Remember that day he escaped and we let him stay loose for two whole weeks? He dug tunnels through the entire rabbitry floor, and made such a mess of things... But he never strayed far." Good ol' Felix.

There's pride in knowing that he was a happy creature, and lived a good life. But oh the humble feeling when you see him on a plate. No longer looking like a rabbit... There's a feeling of respect too. You took his life, now it's only fair to honor what was taken by eating him. It's a dance of death and life that has gone in circles for hundreds and hundreds of years. This is just the way things are. Perhaps you are a vegetarian, or a vegan, or something else. That's fine with me. I certainly have no qualms with folks who have such a strong measure of self control. I'm hopeless... I love meat. But my hat is off to you who have chosen a different path in life than mine.

I didn't finish harvesting all the fryers (term for a young meat rabbit) today. Poppet, that ~~annoying brat~~ sweet darling of a Nigerian Dwarf was continuously getting in my way, escaping from the pasture, and otherwise making a muck of things. So the majority of my day was spent not dealing with rabbits, but running down a roly poly excuse for a goat and trying to keep her in one place. I was tuckered before I had hardly started! But I got enough fryers done today that I can easily finish tomorrow or Saturday. So it works out.

I came inside the house to cut the fryers up into pieces, wrap them into nice, neat packages, and then put them in the fridge to cure for 24 hours. They are sitting there quietly now... Little square packages that hardly resemble a rabbit. I looked at those packages and felt that nice feeling wash over me.

Come what may. I am prepared.

It's a good feeling.

Gettin' There

2011-12-07T11:26:00.000-08:00

I'm almost caught up with my small orders! Only eight more to go!

Doodling

2011-12-06T19:21:00.000-08:00

Shhh! I'm supposed to be knitting right now! Not making fun collages! ;)

It Can't Be Explained

2011-12-04T21:16:00.000-08:00

The temperature outside read 32 degrees, as I walked out to the barn tonight... To those of us who live in the Willamette, that's cold. Thankfully I had both a polar fleece sweater, and my trusty Carharrtt coat on to keep the chill away. Barn chores were uneventful as I went about my way. The goats got their hay, the rabbits got their pellets; all was fine and dandy. But before closing the barn up for the night, I took a slow jaunt through the goat pasture...

The moon shone brilliantly tonight. December's moon is known as a 'Cold Moon', and is aptly named... It beamed through the night, making everything look like a 1800's photograph. Black and white. My shadow made a stark contrast against the seemingly white grass, as I meandered over land that I have come to know almost better than I know myself. It was not yet even 9 'o' clock at night, and already a hard frost was descending upon the silent earth. I could feel resistance from the half frozen grass, and all around me looked like some fairy had come along and sprinkled glitter. All of this was a beautiful sight to behold that I shall treasure for a long time.

I sat down on the bench in the pasture... Sat down and exhaled. Behind me was the moon, and a giggling creek. How many stories and songs that creek has regaled through the seasons... It's a comforting white noise that I have come to appreciate. Around me were ancient trees whose skeletal forms stood bent and contorted with age. A few still rebelliously held onto their leaves; not yet ready to face what the Cold Moon was foretelling. And before me... Oh before me... Before my eyes was the barn. The lights were still on, giving the black and white picture a shade of color. I love my barn. It may be metal, instead of the preferred wood, and there may admittedly be a few leaks in there, but that barn is my safe haven...

I sat on that wooden bench for a few minutes longer; hugging my old coat to my body. I could see Orion in the sky, with his bejeweled belt glimmering brightly. The Big Dipper had begun it's helter skelter tipping, and it will soon seem almost upside down. A few other stars managed to peek out, despite the moon's display of grandeur; a sprinkling of glitter in the sky, and on the ground.

I walked back up towards the barn, but first stopped at Capri's grave. She had gotten her share of glitter upon her colder, smaller sleeping space, and for that I was grateful on this chilly night. I reminisced aloud, as I knelt on the hard ground; my hand where her head was lain beneath the layers of soil. I said to her, what I said as she lay dying. She was my special girl. My best milker, and friend. We were going for a goal of three gallons next spring... Just like her dam, I wanted to see if she would reach that amount and possibly surpass it. We got to 19 lbs. of milk this past spring... We were only 5 lbs. short of reaching our goal. My cow in a goat's body. But we were thwarted, weren't we Capri? Fate reared its ugly head, and we never attained the goal. I spoke to her a little longer, then stood up and said before leaving, "Don't cry. I'll see you again someday." And with that, I walked away... I am of the firm belief that there will be animals in heaven/new earth. Why would God call them "good", and put them here on this imperfect world, but not have them again when the end times of this chapter comes? That's my logic, and I'll stick to it. There will be animals again. And I will see Capri again. Period. Exclamation point.

Some may wonder at my attachment towards a dead goat. People could understand, if she had been a dog, but in my mind, having a dairy animal results in a deeper relationship than with a dog. It can't be explained. You would just have to own one to understand what goes on between animal and handler. I feed them, and they feed me. There is routine to a milker's day. A methodical habit that is not easily broken. There is a level of trust, affection, and loyalty on each side. I know their thoughts and they know mine. It is a beautiful thing to behold. A dance between two species. Capri was was the best dance partner I've had yet.

I turned the barn lights off, and closed the door. Enya's song "Wild Child" Floated through my head as I walked back to the warm house. I think Capri would have liked that one during milking....

Confession

2011-12-04T16:41:00.000-08:00

Soooo, I have a little confession to make. Remember that spandy little job I landed last month? (click highlighted words to read the post about that)

Well, I quit it. And I quit the day before Thanksgiving. And I'm only just now telling you guys! :-/ Apologies there... I just haven't wanted to talk about it at all.

I still don't really want to talk about it, but in a nutshell I left because of the level of gutter talk and harassment (just voiced opinions. Nothing physical) from the other employees.

Now, I realize that swearing and inappropriate language is something that one can't really get away from in this life, but when you spend six hours each day listening to it, and you can't get away from it, it's a whole 'nother story.

The other employees don't know why I left. They all assumed I couldn't handle the work load, and smirked that they were correct in guessing I would only last two weeks. They were right in saying I would only last two weeks, but it sure wasn't due to the work. It was hard work, yes. But it was doable.

But, if nothing else, I at least learned a lot of tricks to working faster, and it was a good experience seeing how professional processors do their work. And after doing a little over 500 turkeys, I would like to state here that I love Broad Breasted White turkeys. If I ever start raising large amounts of turkeys in the future, I will use those birds. I might do a few Bourbon Reds, but that's a big "might". We had all sorts of turkey breeds come in to be processed during that time, and we all groaned when someone pulled up with dark feathered birds, or ones that were under the age of 4 months. They're a nightmare to pluck, let me tell ya'.... However, turkeys (even the young and dark colored) are a cinch in comparison to ducks and geese. Ai, yi, yi. I despise doing waterfowl... Someday I want to try their meat to see if it's really worth all the work that goes into plucking them. Chickens. Chickens are good. I like doing chickens. ;)

So that's the end of that adventure.

Write It Down

2011-12-02T19:44:00.000-08:00

I'm supposed to be knitting right now... But that's pretty much all I've done today, so my hands are going to take a little break here. :)

One thing that I find to hold true in life is that if I write a goal down, it is much, much easier to make it come to pass. If I can see the words with my own eyes, rather than just knowing that it's in my head and in my heart, it causes me to realize that it's not just a dream. It's a reality that I will make happen. Someone one said to me that they perceived me as a dreamer: That I have big ideas, but I never actually accomplish anything. That remark stung for a little while, but then I cast it aside. That person doesn't know me very well. I AM a dreamer. But I'm also a do'er. And a person who knows when to bide her time. I have a list of things that I want to accomplish, and some things on there have reached that stage of accomplishment. Some are still in the midst of being finished, and some still need a couple years of waiting. But I know from experience that since I've written those things down, I have a much higher chance of having them come to pass.

So right now, I'm going to write (er, type) something down that I want to happen, and I see it happening, but I need to see these words to keep me going:

I'm writing my first book.

I would really like this book to be titled, "To Sing With Goats", but titles are something I save for the end, so it may end up something completely different...

Part memoir, and part 'how-to guide' about dairy goats and raising them, I'm trying to create a book that's written on a more personal level than most goat books are, these days. I want it to have a feel of having a conversation with an old friend, but at the same time be informative and accurate.

I've been working on the manuscript a little bit each day, and it's gone from a far-of-and-away dream, to something that is taking on a material shape. In my mind I am starting to see the pages... I see the pictures and where I want them. I can feel the book. Smell the ink... It's growing into something more than a thought and a hope.

But it's also very challenging... I am certainly not the best writer in these parts. Shucks, when I sit down at this computer, all the words I wanted to say just fly out of my head! I love writing though. I like seeing how my thoughts can go from something in my head, to something visible. Words intrigue me. I like seeing them come together to form sentences and paragraphs, as well as comparing writing styles from various authors. But then I wonder if writing is something I can truly do, and be good at. My hands and my head have for so long honed in on physical work. I can butcher livestock, milk dairy animals, help assist animal births, garden, buck hay... Can this workaholic of a country girl really tame herself enough to conform to the rigors of writing? I see people who say that they make it a goal to write at least 1,500 words each day. I'm not going to tell you how many I've been doing. It's nowhere near that number. My excuse for the moment though, is that it's because I'm so busy making the knitted goats. But sometimes, when I sit down to work on that manuscript, I feel a case of writer's block come on. I will have an entire chapter figured out in my head, and then I sit down and --- forget it all!! Argh!

One goal is to give the book a more "fun, and personal" flavor to it. Almost like a blend between this blog, and my goat workshops. A small example would be my Table of Contents. I'm only going to share a few with y'all, and these are still very tentative, so they may change, but at the moment I have chapter names that look like this:

To Outwit A Goat -- Goat Behavior and understanding it
The Ol' Nosebag and Fodder Box -- Feeds and Feeding
Loose Shoulders and Toeing Out. Huh? -- Dairy Goat Conformation
Smelly Bucks and Swooning Does -- Breeding
Band-Aids, Baking Soda, and B-Complex -- Health
The Ultimate Goal: Milk. (Now, how do you get it out of the goat?!?) -- Milking and handling raw milk

Again, those titles are pretty tentative, but it gives you a small idea of what I'm talking about.

The going is very slow, but maybe someday it will really turn into a book. For now, I'll have to depend on you guys, and my written list to keep me at the grindstone...

We Have A Winner!!

2011-12-02T10:19:00.000-08:00

For me, drawing names is always the hardest part about giveaways. But this time I at least had the help of Random.org; so y'all can be sure that this was as fair of a drawing as possible!

Our winner is:

Groovyoldlady!!

Congratulations! I know you will love this book, and I will get it shipped off to you post haste.

I do sincerely wish I could give each and everyone of you who entered, your own copy of 'The Heirloom Life Gardener'. But somehow I don't think Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds would go for that.... Hmm. I do encourage y'all to buy your own copy though! It's a wonderful read for both the beginner and the experienced. I do believe you can find it on online by clicking HERE.

Thank you everyone for entering my giveaway, and for stopping by 'To Sing With Goats' for a visit. Y'all have made this country girl a happy person. :)

But don't get too far away now, we still have the December giveaway coming up!

And The Winner Is...!

2011-12-01T16:21:00.000-08:00

Oh wait, the drawing ends tomorrow! Oops!

Sorry about that, folks. Come back tomorrow afternoon and find out who is the lucky winner of 'The Heirloom Life Gardener' book! :)

Simple Pleasures

2011-12-01T16:17:00.000-08:00

I am very easy to please. I suppose that's a good thing...

Today's little pleasure was getting to speak with author/farmer Jenna Woginrich for a few minutes over the phone. :) I am a happy person this evening.

We talked a little about sheep, books and other such things, and then I left her to finish her work, which was signing a bunch of pre-ordered copies of her newest book, 'Barnheart'. I am SO excited to get mine in the mail!

So yes, I am a happy, content country girl this evening.

Thanks for the chat Jenna!

Wednesday Wisdom

2011-11-30T20:03:00.000-08:00

"I've always found that sticking your fingers in your ears and humming loudly solves a whole host of problems."

~Author Unknown

Off The Shelves

2011-11-30T11:36:00.000-08:00

Well, after the 123rd order for a knitted goat, I figured I should probably take them off my Etsy shelves for awhile... Oh goodness, I have to make 123 goats. But, there is a bright side!! That number is tentative, so I may only have to make 73! ;)

To date, I have made a total of -- um -- 12 goats. [sheepish look]

I usually try to do a new blog post every day, but what with this tall order, I may be a little sporadic for a time. twenty three of those goats have to be finished before Christmas, so that's what I'm working on right now. The other 50 to 100 don't have to be finished until next June, so there's time. There's time...

The goats WILL be put back onto the shelves though! So worry not, if you had your heart set on getting one (or two, or twenty). hopefully by January they'll be back in the shop, along with some other farmyard friends such as a knitted horse, sheep, chicken, pig, and a dog. :) Maybe I should splurge and buy myself a pair of new knitting needles... Hehe.

Any hey, there's only two more days to enter the giveaway contest! I'll announce the winner of Friday afternoon!