I Used To Wonder

 I used to wonder how well I would handle having to put down an animal of my own. Slaughtering I can do; it's easier, mentally, to do the task since you know you will be putting meat in the freezer. But I wasn't sure how I would do with using a rifle to dispatch an animal that would not be used for meat. An animal too sick, or too old, or too "something" (imagine your own circumstance), to put it in the freezer. I've been lucky for a long, long time. I usually either found animals already dead, or found them minutes away from dying; so I never had to face that moment of loading a gun and putting something out of it's misery.

  Actually, I take that back. I've just been a coward up until now. I've had animals that needed to be shot, but I was a wimp and made either my dad or my older brother take the poor thing down and out. Yay me. Not.

  My memory is a funny thing... When I decide to forget something, then that's pretty much it. I forget it. I've got a "permanent delete" button in this ol' noggin' of mine. A couple weeks ago I was morbidly doing a head count of my animal losses this year (gotta' have something to think about while washing the dishes!), and it was the hardest thing trying to remember everyone... Last year was excellent; I didn't lose a single animal. But this year has been marred and scarred by multiples happenings; the cows had their issues, Peaches, the heifer, killed a bunch of goats, and then there was Trigun.

  I shot Trigun. It was the last day of July, early in the morning. My day had started out gloriously, my grandma and sister-in-law were over for a visit, we had our day all planned out, and I was busy taking care of the stock before breakfast time. Then I found Trigun. Laying down on the cool dirt floor of the barn, with all of her insides grotesquely on her outside. In short, I had before me a goat with a severe prolapse. Seriously, it was gross, and I do not get grossed out easily. The entire goat herd had gotten out 48 hours earlier (sigh... Goats are amazing fence crashers) and Trigun had made the mistake of eating foxglove, which is a poisonous plant. Normally this causes cardiac arrest, but for some reason it made Trigun prolapse. My first thought was to put those organs, intestines, and what-have-you right back inside the goat (it was early morning still. I really have no idea how I would have done that. Give me a break here), but that idea was quickly shot down as I looked at the mass of tissue protruding from her. It was filthy and completely covered in dirt, and dry; there was no way to fix that problem (no, I couldn't "just wash it!"). Poor Trigun was in a bad state; breathing shallowly, groaning softly in pain, and fading before me. That goat just wanted to die.

  And it was then and there that I felt my clear, semi-calm (you can only be so calm when you're looking at your herd matriarch in a state like that) decision. She needed to be dispatched. NOW. I read about folks who tote their livestock to the vet to be euthanized, or hear about having the vet come out to do the job. There was no time for this; not when my goat was in this state and the vet was an hour away. Sometimes the most humane way to end an animal's life is to do it immediately. So I ran inside, and told someone (I think it was mom?) that I needed the gun. I can't for the life of me remember if I went and got the gun, or if someone brought it to me... All I remember is my sister-in-law appearing to come help me with this task before breakfast. Bless her heart, my SIL has put up with so much over the years, but somehow I don't think she ever expected to have to witness/help the dispatching of a goat. Eh, there's a first time for everything.

  Turns out that the firearm for the job was our sleek, compact 9mm handgun. I had never shot this thing before... I knew how powerful it was though, and knew that it would do the job. I think my SIL came along in case I broke down and couldn't shoot my lovely Trigun. This was the sweetest goat... She milked 2 gallons a day, never shoved the other goats around, never escaped; she was a good, old girl. She was old too; almost 8 years, which is a ripe age for most goats. Walking back to the barn, there were those thoughts of wanting to fix her, wanting to postpone this. But once you saw her, you knew there was no way around this. She needed to go. She wanted to go.

  In my haste to help Trigun, I completely forgot to consider ear plugs for myself. I guess since I had never shot this particular gun before, and didn't know how loud it was, it didn't come to mind... My SIL didn't think of it either until the very last moment, but was at least able to plug her ears with her fingers.

  I used to wonder how I would handle having to put down an animal of my own. Now I know. You just do it. Turn your brain off and do it, knowing that this is the best thing.

 I aimed the gun; back of her head, right where horns would have been, the muzzle pointed straight to the nose. This causes instantaneous death with small livestock such as sheep and goats, whose heads differ from cattle and hogs (where you draw an imaginary 'X' on the front of the face).

I aimed.
Said I was sorry.
Fired.

 Trigun dropped. Quickly, painlessly, instantly.

 I was totally unprepared for the impact of the shot's noise on my eardrums. Holy kohlrabi. They weren't ringing. Or, if they were then I sure couldn't hear 'em. In fact, I couldn't hear anything! Shucks, you could hear things underwater better than this. Turns out that I didn't have my full hearing back for another two days. Lesson learned.

  Dispatching livestock is nobody's favorite job. But it sometimes has to be done. For three months I've kept this story to myself, but tonight I wanted to share it. Not because I'm feeling morbid. But because I know myself well enough to know that I will forget Trigun eventually; and this is my way of recording what happened. It's also to give some of y'all a peek into the harsher side of this lifestyle. Not many people like to write about graphic problems like this because not only is it NOT pleasant (and who wants to read an unpleasant blog when you can read a hundred "very pleasant" ones on the web?), but it's also because we know that there are plenty of animal rightists and PETA members crawling around the place and they certainly don't like stories like this. But someone has to share this stuff. Someone has to be the brave (or foolish. Take your pick) soul to tell the truth that there are still hard days. And shucks, this one little moment can't be anywhere near what the ranchers in South Dakota are going through as they deal with their dead and dying cattle. So with that in mind, this is my story. I shot my goat.

Memorial for a Farmer. I Almost Cried.

 Illinois farmers know how to pay a tribute. My goodness do they know how... The Modern Farmer posted an article about a most unique tribute to a fallen farmer; the man was only 31 when he died of cancer. He left a wife, two kids, and a farm behind. After his death, the entire farming community rallied together to create a memorial that is not easily forgotten.

 Here's the article if you should so desire to read it. The photography is to die for, and the story compelling. I think the part that got me tearing up was -- well, you should read it first. I don't want to spoil anything. ;)

  There is hope for humanity yet, I tell ya'.

Start Your Own Meat CSA

 

 A few months ago, I read about the neatest idea in one of my Acres USA magazine. The article was about this thing called a "meat CSA" and the story featured a farm in Kentucky that did this. By golly was I intrigued... I knew all about vegetable CSA's (which, by the way, stands for "Community Supported Agriculture". Click the highlighted words to read more about what this is, if you're not familiar with it), but always wished the idea could somehow be tweaked to make it work for meat. Raising meat is my specialty, and my passion; the only problem with it is that it involves a VERY high start-up cost. When a single beef calf costs $500 to $700, and broiler feed is almost hitting $800 for a ton (which will only feed 150 - 180 birds), well -- it can be hard to start a meat enterprise up. Compare it all to buying seeds, which are about $2 to $4 for a packet. Beet seeds are cheaper than lambs, no matter how you look at it.

 What I wanted/needed was something like a CSA... Customers would pay upfront; either a 1-month, 6-month, or 12-month amount, which would allow me some immediate income to not only buy calves, lambs, chicks, poults, and giraffes (you still awake?), but also give me some much needed income to pay bills and buy toothpaste and  socks. The idea is to spread the income out a bit, rather than having it all come in one huge swoop when harvest season rolls around.

  So when I read the article about that Kentucky farm, I blasted out of my seat and immediately bought the Meat CSA Guide that these farmers have so clearly laid out. It. Is. Amazing. I printed the whole thing out and regularly flip through it. I may have the farm on hiatus through 2014, but hey, when I pick things back up, this could very easily be what I decide to seriously look into starting.

  While reading through my guide for the one billionth time yesterday, it occurred that I should share this treasure trove of knowledge with y'all. You can even get the guide for free now, which blows me away. Not only are these farmers giving out every secret of their business, they're even willing to answer your questions (believe me; I peppered them with my fair share). I paid for my guide at first (they used to charge $10 for their wonderful booklet), but then when they changed their mind and switched to it being free, they sent me a second guide for no cost at all. That's it; I'm impressed. They do still have the option to donate money for the guide, which I like to see (as a fellow writer, I know how much it means to get some sort of payment for your work!), so here you go folks: Go get yourself an awesome guide on how to start your own meat CSA. And feel free to give those farmers a few bucks as a 'thank you' *hint, hint. Nudge, nudge.* Yeah, I'm trying to be subtle here.

 Clicking right here will lead you to the wonderful paypal button CSA Guide!

Ride That Pig!

 This old picture makes me chuckle every time I see it. Between the fact that the animal is a pig and not a pony, and the scowl on the little boy's face (which I have to admit is about what I look like first thing in the morning...), this image is pretty priceless.

  Ride that pig, son!

See You Tonight

  

Q&A Monday!

 We squeaked by this week with a last-minute question! Hey, better late than never, right? Smile and nod folks, smile and nod.

  So, ze' question of ze' week? A reader is wondering what books/videos/websites I'm using to teach myself and my crazy pup to herd animals. Well, *I'M* not the one running around herding animals, but you get what I mean.

  My first reaction to the question was, "I wish I knew!" Then I remembered that I do have a few things... For the most part I'm only dealing with the bare bones basics of training Gyp. He's got a good bit of natural talent, so that helps too. But right now he and I are just killing time; I don't want to train my first herding dog, I want a professional to do it, so that I don't mess Gyp up. At first I thought Gyp and I would head to weekly lessons here in Oregon, but now we're waiting to settle in Missouri and then I'll find a trainer over there who will take on a farm girl and her English Shepherd.

  The main book that I've been using (and is forever next to my bedside for reading sprees) is Vergil S. Holland's book titled 'Herding Dogs: Progressive Training'. I found this at a thrift store 6 years ago and got it because I was curious to know how on earth people trained dogs to herd livestock. Today I'm using to train my own! It's a great read; easy to understand, and it breaks the process down into small, doable lessons. I've skimmed through a couple other training books but didn't care for those. This one sticks around.

  I've also been watching some Youtubes, and I have to say that these made a HUGE impact. I always figured I would teach Gyp the basics of "sit, stay, down, come, etc." and then leave things like "Away to me" and "come by" to the trainer. The videos made it so easy though! So I started teaching Gyp the commands! Granted, he's still a youngster and is apt to forget his commands every now and again, but at least there's effort.

  The Youtubes in question are taught by Ted Hope; an Englishman who excels with Border Collies, and training them. The videos are a little hard to understand (he has quite the accent, and footage quality is sometimes uneven), but they're worth the effort of watching.
 Part 1 can be found here.
 Part 2 is here.
 Part 3 is here.
 And Part 4 is here!

  It's also just been a bit of watching Gyp and putting commands to the desired action. For example, my book says that teaching the command "Go Back" (meaning, the dog turns around and does a straight line AWAY from the stock. No dog wants to do that!) is the hardest thing to teach. I accidentally taught it to Gyp without trying, when he was 4 months old. During the height of summer, I would always have to stomp down the tall grass before setting up the next day's portable fencing for the sheep. It took awhile and Gyp would get bored and would try to follow me via the path I had stomped. I never allowed him to follow because he was notorious for getting tangled in the netted fencing. So I would always say, "Gyp, go back!" and the only thing for him to do was to turn tail and run back down that straight, stomped path. After about a week of that, I could tell him "go back" anywhere and he'd make that straight line away from me. He and I still do this twice every day. Before he gets his food I have him "go back" and "come" multiple times at varying distances to keep him on his toes.

  He also responds to the word "wait", which was another accidental teaching... He likes to run ahead of me, and when I was done moving the sheep I was always afraid he'd run into the road and get hit by a car (we had to cross a road to get to the neighbor's property, where the sheep were). I'd watch him until he got close to the road and then I'd shout "Wait! Stay!" which got his attention enough to pause his galloping until I caught up. It eventually morphed to the point where I could say "wait" and he'd hesitate on anything and listen for another command. Nowadays he usually stands in place until I catch up to him, or if he can't see me then he'll turn around and come back. I like it that he hesitates though; I can slow him down, remind him to be cautious, or just make him wait on me.

  And as a random tip that someone once shared with me... I used to always have a hard time remembering which direction was 'Away' and which was 'Come By'; then a shepherd told me that he remembers it by thinking about how "time goes by" in a clockwise circle; just like a dog "Coming by" on sheep. Clockwise.

Hope this helps. ;) Gyp and I are still learning this ourselves!

Regret Happens

   I will forever regret not buying this cow...

  She went up for sale back in July, for the steal of a price of only $700 (and the seller was willing to come down). She was a 4 year old, purebred Holstein who is what is known as "old style". One of the few Holsteins that will do well on grass, is quite hardy, and built like a tank. This cow was huge, weighing in at 1,600+ lbs. That's about twice the size that my Mattie was. Shucks, Cinnamon was big and only weighed 1,200 - 1,300 lbs. For all her size, and all her milking ability (12 gallons a day on her 2nd freshening!), she only ate 8-10 lbs. of grain to keep her looking chubby like she is in the pic. For the record, I had to feed Mattie about 10 lbs. of grain and she only milked 2-3 gallons of milk. Cinnamon would get 12-14 lbs. of grain and gave 5 gallons of milk. So imagine my awe when I hear about a cow twice the size of my Jersey, giving six times as much milk as her, and needing LESS grain. You could have pushed me over with a feather.

   I wanted this cow so stinkin' bad that it hurt. It still hurts. I still want that cow. I could have had her, but gave her up at the last moment. And instead put GSF on hiatus and signed up for an internship in Missouri. In all honesty, this cow is the only thing that has made me reluctant to leave. That's how bad I wanted her.

  Regret happens all the time in life. We all experience it. Some handle it better than others. As for me, I will forever regret not buying that Holstein cow... She was a good one.