Because My Morning Wasn't Crazy Enough

My afternoon was going swimmingly. Everything was quiet and I had just finished checking the mail, with Gyp tagging along on his leash.

Then the phone started ringing right as I reached the porch and in my scurry to get it I tied the dog to the porch real quick, accidentally dropped all the mail, and wouldn't you know it? There was no one at the other end of the line. -_- I had just turned around to fix the mess outside when I noticed a Sheriff's car sloooooooowly rolling past my house, then backing up and parking in the driveway. 

It was one of those moments where you feel so panicked that you have no idea what on earth to do. This was *perfect*. My puppy is tied up on the front porch, my barn is a complete mess after today's adventure, there's mail scattered on the porch, I'm still wearing my dirty muck boots... Oh please don't let that phone ring again!!

In ten seconds flat, I scurried out of my boots, grabbed the fallen mail, scooped up my dog and zoomed inside. I had no idea why the sheriff was here, and I knew I had done nothing wrong, but I think everyone still feels intimidation when facing someone in law enforcement. I didn't have time to put Gyp in the backyard, so I desperately hissed at my 12 year old brother to "deal with the dog", and then tried to calm my pounding heart before opening the door for the man who was walking up the path.

Let me just say this: I. Was. Terrified. I was alone, and there was no one here to bolster my confidence. So I had to do it myself. At that moment, I would have rather faced a thunder storm than the sheriff (that's saying something!)

The sheriff explained that someone reported me and my small farm, saying that my cow looked too thin; so he was here to decide a verdict on the situation. I drooped inwardly, knowing that I had this coming. Yes, my poor Ellie is THIN! She needs to gain at least 100 lbs.! But would the sheriff believe me that I had only gotten her a couple weeks ago and that it wasn't my fault for her condition? I see a lot of progress in Ellie's condition. She's beginning to sleek out and her spine doesn't protrude so sharply anymore. But to everyone else in the world who didn't see her on day #1, she looks like a horrible neglect case. It didn't help matters that she had just aborted that fetus this morning and now her rear end was swollen and she had dried blood on her back legs. *smacks forehead*

Trying not to let my voice quaver with the fear I felt, I led the sheriff out to the pasture where Ellie was chewing her cud. He looked at her, asked questions, took a tour around the whole place, checked my grain, checked my hay, petted the goats, and asked more questions. I have to say, the goats were amazing. All nine of them came up to the fence, looking for scratches and rubs; their sleek coats gleaming in the sunshine, and slightly-chubby bodies bumping against each other. They were my ambassadors today. Showing that Ellie is the exception here and not the rule, where condition is concerned. Jupiter took a special liking to the Sheriff and wouldn't leave him alone; thankfully he didn't seem to mind the new adoring fan.

He thanked me for my time and began to walk out the barn. I didn't know his verdict just yet and was scared that my cow was too thin after all and he would have something done, like have her confiscated. We reached the barn door and he allayed my fears by saying I had nothing to worry about. My farm and my animals all looked good to him and he was closing the case. I was so relieved that I felt limp. I don't even remember walking back to the house.

So now I have one very, very specific goal: Put some weight on that cow ASAP!!

All Before 9 a.m.

It wasn't even 9am yet and already my day was crazy.

I always milk Ellie first thing in the morning. No other barn chores are done until she is cared for. My usual routine is to get things ready inside (jars at the ready, ice in the cooler to chill the milk, water in the kettle for sterilizing equipment...), and then go outside and do the last prep work (get Ellie's feed, hook up the machine, grab her halter...) before letting the cow walk herself to the parlor. Except today she didn't want to get up. This wasn't like her. Normally she's out grazing at this time of the morning, or she's standing at the gate, mooing softly to be milked. Today she was just -- lying down. Looking funny. I walked in the pen to see about convincing her to get up when I noticed something odd. Four feet away from my cow, and next to the goats who were also still dozing, was what looked like a small pile of birthing tissue. Like raw flesh, misplaced in an incredibly wrong spot. It looked almost like a placenta. There were strings of blood scattered around the strange object, and the bedding was damp. I nudged the "thing" with my boot and as I looked closer, I realized that it had a head... And four little legs. It was an aborted fetus, and I had no earthly idea where it came from or who it belonged to. My first suspicion was Rosemary, one of the goats I'm boarding here for a friend. She was supposed to be the last pregnant animal here and the fetus would be about the right size to come from her. She looked fine however; although I wouldn't have put it past her to do something like that and still look normal, just to bamboozle me (goats seem to enjoy doing that.). 

Ellie hauled herself up at that point and I had the first answer to my bewilderment as I noticed that she had a stringy, bloody discharge, and her vulva was grossly swollen. This fetus had come from her.

But WHY was my cow suddenly aborting!? For goodness sake, she wasn't even pregnant!! I was thoroughly wigged out, but knew I couldn't ponder such a puzzle for long. There were animals to milk and feed. I scooped up the teeny tiny 7" long calf body and looked closely at it before setting it aside. It was barely formed; the eye sockets were just beginning to appear on the skull, and the two inch long legs had what looked to be the start of tiny hooves. I know this one doesn't really count, but this makes the 2nd dead calf I've had to haul away... Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever get to experience a normal, live birth with bovines.

After cleaning myself up, I got Ellie and began milking chores. Her appetite seemed a little less than usual, but that was somewhat understandable, what with how her night and morning had gone thus far. Her production was also less; I should have gotten about 1.5 to 2 gallons. Instead I got 1 gallon + 1 quart. 

Gyp came along with me when I went out for the second round of barn chores, which consists of feeding the goat kids, throwing hay, filling water buckets, and milking the goats. Er, that's how it's supposed to go anyway.

Gyp got to herd goats for the very first time today. 

Yesterday, Catherine refused to go forward which meant I had to have Gyp help me get her motor going. Today though, I couldn't get her to stop!! Normally I hold the goats by the collar while I tie the gate, and then I lead them to the milking parlor. Well, I held Catherine by the collar alright... And she fairly dragged me to the parlor, which left me no time whatsoever to tie the gate closed! Then Catherine pulled her next stunt: She wouldn't get on the stand. -_- She would stick her head through the catch and would eat her food, but she refused to put her back end up on that stand! I was just about to lift her all the way up when Jupiter came trotting into the milking parlor. Oh no... Right behind her was Trigun, Sombrita, and Rosemary. Great. I had Catherine who wouldn't get on the stand and allow me to secure her, four goats on the loose, and a quick look at the pen showed the the sheep, cow, and other goats were about to follow suit and make a dash for freedom. 

My hands were tied. I had no idea what to do. So I did the most logical thing I could think of right in that moment: I called my dog.

"Gyp! Get it! Get the goats!" I held on to Catherine so that she wouldn't bolt, and shouted at my pup to do what he's never been taught to do. I could only point at the goats and hope to get him excited enough to make a run at the escapees. 

It worked! Gyp has *always* wanted to be in the same area as the goats; what else would one expect from a herding dog? He knew the words "get it" enough to know that he needed to go after what I was pointing at (hurray for playing endless hours of "catch the pine cone"! I throw it, shout "get it" and he has to run and get it!), so he barreled his way right into the throng of stubborn goat bodies; tail wagging, tongue lolling, and he was having the greatest time. It didn't take much for the four miscreants to turn tail and run, and Gyp put them right back in the pen where they belonged. Whew. But I still had Catherine who wouldn't get on the stand. So after zooming to tie the gate closed, I called my dog in and he helped convince that ornery animal to get all the way up on that stand.

As I sat down to breakfast later (oh glorious breakfast!), I was still trying to figure out what was going on with Ellie, and if I should share the story with the public. With you. It's oftentimes a battle inside me trying to figure out what to share here and what to keep private. My excuse for keeping some of my life private goes by the name of "tact" and "consideration". Not everyone likes these stories, not everyone can handle these stories, and most people seem to prefer to read about the "perfect farms" where nothing ever goes wrong and the weather always seems to be 72F and sunny. 

Then I read a thought-provoking article that someone had shared on FB. You can read it by clicking HERE. It's a small article about the side of farming that you won't see on Facebook. Or on a blog. It's the bloody side, the ugly side, the muddy side, the smelly side, the heart wrenching side, the frustrating side, the embarrassing side, it's all the behind-the-scenes that writing farmers don't want the public to see. Why? First off because we don't like it ourselves. Second, because a lot of times we fear you guys. I know I do. Want to talk fear? Let's talk about what my readers will think if I share X story, or if I share X pictures. Walk into Walmart and ask a random person how they envision a "farm". Chances are that they'll describe something that looks like this:

This is what most people think of when they envision a farm (and by the way, I can't resist explaining... These images came from my personal Pinterest page! Yes, I'm a hypocrite!). Their mind usually doesn't imagine the spilled milk, the dead babies that had to  be pulled from an animal who isn't dilated all the way, the roosters who tried to kill each other early in the morning and are now barely alive, the reek of hoof rot, the mastitis, the raccoon attack on the chickens at midnight... Oh it goes on and on. I can only speak for myself here, but I know I have a hard time sharing tough stuff on here. I know that anyone in the world can find this blog and read it, and they may not be of the same mind as I am (hello PETA member!). If you're not used to the agriculture world, some of this stuff can be down right shocking and/or horrifying. It's so much easier to show the pretty pictures that have been photoshopped, and the amusing stories that make you smile. But that gives the illusion that this is a perfect farm. And it's not. 

Reading that article hit home and convicted me of my writing. Folks, I haven't been completely honest with you, and now I'm thinking that I need to make some changes. I need to start showing all the sides to this farming life; although it may take time to learn how to do this tactfully all the while (such as warnings before sharing graphic images). I don't want to share the more gruesome side of this life as a way to glorify myself, "Aren't I amazing!? I handled this all by myself and saved the day!", or to glean pity from folks, "Woe is me, the farmer... Do you realize how hard I slave each day so you can eat??" . I want to share this because people need to see this. This is a learning experience for everyone. Nothing is perfect, things go wrong (especially on a farm), and people need to see that a farm usually doesn't look like something from a Hollywood set.

So with all that in mind, I decided to share Ellie's story today. After asking advice from some experienced cow people, it's been decided that the fetus was a mummified calf that she wasn't able to pass until now. She calved two months ago and had a healthy 45 lb. bull calf. The twin died early in the pregnancy for some reason though, and it's taken her all this time to get it out of her system. I'll be watching her closely to make sure that she doesn't get an infection of sorts, but hopefully that will be a one-time fluke and not something that will happen again. 

It wasn't even 9am yet, and already my day was crazy... I had dealt with a mummified calf, sorted through the chaos of escaped goats, did the usual barn chores, and got convicted of my writing... Time to make some changes here on the blog. Time to be more honest about things.

It's time to take the writing up a notch.

Just a Glimpse

Gyp has thrived here at GSF and I am still just as much in love with him now as when I first saw him at the airport. Granted, it hasn't quite been all sunshine and roses as he's chewed up numerous items that he shouldn't have, he's torn his "puppy-proof" dog run up and I'm learning that it really needs to be "cougar-proof" just to keep the little guy in. He's also surprised me with his high energy level and the two of us are now clocking 4 miles of running in thirty minutes. He wants to be doing 5 or 6 miles a day... I'm still working up to that. 

But then there all those amazing moments and days with him that make up for it all! The soft puppy fur, his tail wagging softly whenever he sees me, his company whenever I'm outside, and knowing that I've got a good working partner in the works. He's been worth every single penny that I spent on him.

It's been fun watching his confidence increase as each week falls away. For the longest time he was scared to come in the barn with me and wouldn't come within twenty feet of that building. Now he runs in there ahead of me and will happily spend his whole day in there, watching the goats and sheep. His hunting/herding instincts are juuuuuust starting to show. Just tiny moments here and there, showing what he will one day be. We'll be out on the 98 acres and he'll tree squirrels and follow rabbit trails. I encourage the tracking and treeing, knowing that it might come in handy someday if I need to track down a chicken-eating varmint.

Today was probably the best day I've had yet with my dog. After milking Ellie, I called Gyp up and gave him the sit-stay command outside the pen. He sat there and stared at the goats and sheep; I could tell he wanted to be in there more than anything, but seeing as my animals are not dog-broke, he has to stay outside the bounds. His staring unnerved the ruminants and kept them stock still, staring right back at my small pup. I used the opportunity to throw hay into the manger and enjoyed the complete peace that I had in doing so. Normally I get shoved around by eleven bodies who aren't really hungry, but just want to see what I'm doing. It can be downright frustrating sometimes trying to get hay in the mangers and this was one job that I've always wanted a dog to help me with. And today I didn't have a single goat or sheep paying attention to me. It. Was. So. Nice.

After throwing hay, I needed to milk the goats. This job can sometimes be interesting since one of the goats, Catherine, doesn't like to be led or get on the milking stand. And she was feeling ornery today. -_- She and I had gotten about halfway to the destination when she planted her feet and refused to go one step further. Not even her single-strand baling twine collar would convince her to move (that's a first... I don't think I've ever had an animal resist the twine for long!). Gyp remained sitting at the other side of the barn. Watching us... Watching intently. Wanting to work. I had a crazy idea that I wasn't so sure about but decided to try it. I called Gyp over and directly behind Catherine. I figured this could either work really well, or both the dog and the goat would blow up. Only one way to find out.

Catherine bugged out at the sight of a canine right behind her and stepped forward. That was enough to set Gyp off and I fairly squealed as I watched him suddenly drop his head and tail and go into "working mode" (in dog language, head/tail up = playing. Head/tail down = focused and working). Catherine continued to walk forward and I led her into the parlor. My fourteen week old pup began snaking his body from side to side around the goat; a move that experienced herding folk call "tucking the sides in". If he had been doing that move with more than one animal, it would have kept the stock bunched together and in the same spot. 

And then it was over. It probably lasted only a minute before he suddenly snapped out of his trance and was back to his usual puppy self. I milked the goats while Gyp hung around the barn. A quick whistle brought him racing back when I needed him to help me lead Catherine back and then he and I finished barn chores together. Soaking grain for fodder, filling water buckets, throwing hay to the cow... It was awesome having him right there next to me and capable of helping me with puppy-sized tasks, and having a companion and working partner outside with me all the time has been the best thing ever.

Gyp's little herding spree may have only lasted a minute, but that was enough for me, for today. It offered a glimpse of the reliable farmhand that my dog will be someday.

Just a glimpse...

Truth

So. Crazy. Excited.

This is probably the most awesome thing to ever happen to McMinnville. :) I absolutely cannot wait until they open their doors!

Sweet Ellie

I think I forgot to announce this over here on ze' blog, but the new cow finally has a name:

Ellie. I call her Ellie. :)

The New Kid On The Block

One of my friend's does decided to kid yesterday morning (it just HAD to be yesterday, didn't it!? I had a crazy day ahead and bottle baby was not in my plans!), and surprised me with a whopping, single buckling. The little guy ended up needing to be re-positioned and then pulled, since his front legs were tucked beneath him, but thankfully I got the problem fixed fairly quickly. 

This makes eleven goats now. Didn't I say I was downsizing??? Hehe.