Appropriate Attire

After a wonderfully thankful Thanksgiving day, spent with great friends and our darling goddaughter, we spent Friday and Saturday doing nothing. Absolutely NOTHING. Watching TV, playing games on the computer, eating, just vegging out. It felt SO good.

But yesterday we saw the forecast: our 55 degree days will be ending soon—and abruptly. Our barn needs to be winterproofed asap, and cleaned, too. So yesterday we spent the day cleaning and doing some minor maintenance to the barn. B and I shoveled all kinds of crap into the back of the pickup truck—an entire bed full—and moved it to the manure pile. Our neighbor’s horses that we are keeping (temporarily) seem to go more than Major does. And he is so tidy, where they are slobs.

In any case, I realized that the local farm store closed at 3:00, and if I wanted to get any wood shavings for bedding, I would need to get there before that time. L and I decided to go. I contemplated freshening up, but I was just going to go in the FARM store. So it would be appropriate to be wearing bib overalls, a t-shirt, my work boots, and a baseball cap thrown over my scary hair. Right?

I was not expecting that the woman behind the counter would ridicule me for my outfit! She said to me, “Did you not look at yourself in the mirror when you put those clothes on today?” She also told me that she wished she had a camera…

Sheesh, you’d think one could go to town and shop at the farm store looking like a farmer without being ridiculed for looking like such.

Next time I will don a work suit and show up in my patent leather pumps.

Ernie Calling!

No, this isn't Ernie calling. But I got this new phone, and I was trying to assign ringtones to some of the numbers that call frequently. Thinking that a "baaing" sound would be appropriate for a phone call coming from home, I searched for "baa ringtone" and came up with this crazy site. You should visit the URL when you are finished watching the little video. It's a hoot.

Yes, it's sheep, but it's a baa, and it's hilarious. I need to make one of these videos of the goats at my house.




Hope you at least smiled!

There might not be any crying in farming, but by God, there sure is cussing...

I should have gone out to the barn yesterday when it was still light, but I got a new cell phone, and I was playing around with it. So I didn't get out there until after supper to feed. Mistake. BIG mistake.

I walked into the barn and smelled a horrible smell. Now, my biggest fear has been that I will encounter a skunk either in the barn, or cross paths with one outside. So far I've been fine, but last night I thought my luck had ended. Come to find out it was yet ANOTHER possum, but this one had been "skunked"! He stank to high heavens. He was in a horse stall, but very close to the exit that the cats have fashioned for themselves. So I grabbed a pitchfork and tried to encourage him to leave. No luck. He was angry, biting at the pitchfork and growling.

One thing that is interesting to note is that our animals have "keyhole feeders" which are feeders fashioned so that they can stick their heads outside of the stalls to eat. That keeps the feeders (and water buckets) free of food and poop so that they are less apt to catch worms or other disease. Goats will also (smart as they are) not drink from a bucket that they have soiled. So when I walk into the barn, they all have their heads stuck through the feeders, looking at me.

So last night I am shouting at the possum, wielding my pitchfork like a wildwoman, and suddenly I look and see that everyone, all six of them, have stopped their chorus of baas, and are looking at me intently. Dead silence, just observing the food lady take charge. It was quite amusing, given the amount of bellering that usually occurs. I don't know if they were glad I was getting the possum out, watching me supportively; wondering what the hell I was doing; or scared to death of my carrying on. But it was funny.

So I cornered it, and put a trap near it with some cat food. It was scared, and not going anywhere. In the meantime, I started feeding. I have taken Wolfgang out of Cindi's stall, as it has been a month and we are hoping she is bred. So Ernie is back in with her and Joe Llama. I have had to hold a separate bucket of feed for Joe because Ernie steals his food. Well, last night I held the bucket for him, but Ernie got too close. Joe spit the contents of his mouth straight at Ernie, but Ernie ducked! Guess who got spat at?! From about 18", nearly a point blank range, he spat straight at my face. Grain. Covered in llama saliva. It was in my hair, stuck to my glasses, down my jacket, all over me.

Having finished feeding, and worse for the wear, I went back to dispatching the possum. It was still huddled in this corner, behind a door. I opened the door, to create somewhat of a triangle (hard to explain, but just go with me here), and left the only opening to be directly into the trap. I couldn't get to him, then, as he was behind the door. So I jabbed him with the pitchfork from under the door. He ran out, and directly into the trap. Success!

But then I had this stinking possum to get rid of. I really wanted to just let him out away from the barn, but I knew I would be dealing with his sinky self again if I did that, so I put him in the back of my car and took him to the same place we've taken the others. My car stank to high heavens, and I am hoping that after removing the animal, the trap, and the paper I put under the trap, that my car will smell better this morning.

I have a professional development class today, and I really don't want to come sauntering in smelling like a goat bathed in llama saliva, with skunk overtones.

Off to the barn to see what surprises are in store for me today...

Santa Baby

Yesterday I sent Santa a little hint. He didn't get it, apparently he's never heard the song "Santa Baby." Anyway, I'm not humming Christmas carols just yet, but my Christmas list was made long ago...


Santa baby, slip a new goat under the tree, For me.

I've been an awful good girl,
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa baby, a set of hoof nippers too, Light blue.

I'll wait up for you dear,
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.

Think of all the hay that I will need,
Alfalfa, oats and black oil sunflower seed,
Next year I could be oh, so good,
If you'd bring me some goats to breed,
Boo doo bee doo.

Santa honey, I wanna big herd,
And really that's not absurd,
I've been an angel all year,
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa cutie, there's one thing on which I’m stuck, a buck.
A sire for my new herd,
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa baby, fill my stocking with a doe, And Oh!
Please could she be bred to Pistolero,
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.

Come and trim my Christmas tree,
With some tools bought at TSC,
I really do believe in you,
Let's see if you believe in me,
Boo doo bee doo.

Santa baby, forgot to mention one thing more, A Boer.
(I don't mean a dull guy),
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight,
Hurry down the chimney tonight,
Hurry down the chimney tonight

Grocery Shocking

Last weekend we stocked up on supplies before the long winter. A partial list of necessities included:

Latex Gloves
KY Jelly
Enema bottle
Absorbent Pads
Rubber Tubing
Bulb Syringe
Karo Syrup
Dental Floss

No, we didn’t have some kinky sex party, we are preparing for spring kidding! It’s not for a while yet, but we sold our corn at a good price and used the check to stock up on the supplies we’ll need for spring. Some great folks put together a list of necessities. We already had many things on the list, but buying the remaining items cost around $300! This goat business is not a cheap business…

Anyway, it was fun to put those things in the basket at Target and make people wonder

Got Milk?

This is an interesting article about small farmers and raw milk/eggs. It's particularly interesting to me because when we moved here and acquired livestock, I saw all of the catalogs containing all of the medicines and supplements that are available for livestock, and I was shocked. I have always been concerned about the hormones and such in milk and meat, but I guess it was just more "in your face" when I saw the catalogs that sold the stuff. It's easy as a consumer to live with your head in the sand.

When we created our business plan, we were determined to avoid giving any unnecessary supplements to our animals. Totally organic would mean no antibiotics, no deworming, and only organically grown feed. While, in theory, this is an ideal practice, for us just starting out, the potential for loss of animals is too great. Several animals have been treated for something in their time at our farm. Organically grown feed is nearly 3 times as much as the feed we buy.

We do, however, refrain from overuse of antibiotics, we do not use growth hormones or steroids in any way, and we only deworm if we actually find worms. We do not worm on a regular basis, or proactively. We feed hay grown on our farm, which is not sprayed with insecticide or contaminated with feces (fertilized with manure).

Folks who sell organic meat can usually command prices high enough to afford the additional costs and risk of organic practices. However, our land is surrounded by farms on all sides, and because they do not practice organic farming, it makes it difficult to avoid any residual pesticide or runoff, and that would exclude us from organic certification.

Anyway, I'm sort of digressing from my point, which really is that it's a shame that someone who wants to avoid hormones, antibiotics, processing, or other changes/supplements/additions to their food is precluded from the freedom to buy it. If a person wants to buy it, the government should not intervene and say that they cannot. However, if someone should not do the research and become sick because they bought food that was unhealthy, neither should they count on the government to bail them out via litigation. It's a buyer beware situation.

It's just that you can't really go in the store and look at a steak in the stryofoam package and tell if that cow has been fed growth hormones or antibiotics, or has been treated cruelly. It's really limiting the freedom of the consumer to choose.

Stepping off the soapbox...

Good Morning Food Lady!!

I am sick. With strep throat. Ugh...

So when I came into the barn this morning, I was not myself, groggy and sick. I perked up right away when I was greeted by a gaggle of cats plus two goats and a llama. Because I was late this morning, it seems that Major decided to stir up some trouble. He opened up the stall next to his, containing Cindi, Ernie and Joe Llama. It was a free for all in the barn-- hay everywhere, jumping and frolicking in the aisles... Thankfully I have endured enough shennangans to know that one should always keep the grain locked up and goat proof.

Because they were extra hungry, it didn't take much more than a feeder full of grain to entice them back into captivity.

On a related note, I let the horses out and they were alarmed by something. Horses are so funny, they look like weather vanes when they are worried or concerned about something. They face the "threat" all puffed up, all standing in the same direction like sentries defending against said threat. So today I noticed that there was cause for concern. I peeked around the barn to see what they were en guarde against, and lo and behold there was a field full of cattle a couple of pastures away. Horrors!!

However, I did also notice that an old fence was broken and needs to be repaired. I hope they don't consider a jailbreak until I am feeling better

Playing Possum Part Deux

I blogged last time about my possum experience. Well, there is more.

All of this whole business started because of the cats. (You know, all of the good stories start with that line...)

So when we moved into this place, we inherited, along with gobs of junk that needed to be taken to the dump, a cat. Grey and white, and tough as nails. Our house had been vacant for nearly a year, and she survived just fine. She gave us about a 30’ berth, so we had no idea if she was a he or a she. Well, of course, until she brought her kittens around.

We nicknamed her BB, I don’t really know why. But that is her name, and she is still around today. After three years, she and her babies and all of their descendants have graced us with their presence. I don’t know how many cats have come and gone, but currently we have 13 cats—all descended from BB.

Many of those that have come and gone have been truly feral—not only skittish, but really disliking people. BB has come around somewhat, since we do feed her, but we have not been able to even touch her, let along hold her or love on her. Sometimes we don’t see her for a few days, or sometimes she shows up for both the morning and evening meal. It just depends.

When we saw that she was definitely a she, we found out that there is a service provided by the University here that will spay and neuter your barn cats. It’s provided by the vet students, but there is a waiting list. It does cost, but at $15 it is quite economical. They have the setup necessary to sedate a feral cat in a cat carrier or trap. They also lend their traps to catch the cats. However, we had no idea that we would be on the list for a matter of YEARS. We put our name on the list in the summer of 2004, and just received the call on October 21st (of 2006) that our number was up to bring the cats in. We jumped at the chance!

The first go-round they only had space for 5 of our colony. No problem, the last batch of kittens born are very tame, and we found 5 that could travel easily in carriers. When we got up there, we borrowed the traps for the second set (8 cats), which were taken this past Sunday. Here is a picture of the traps, so you can see what they look like:



Saturday L and I went to a goat event, so we were busy. We came home and corralled the tame cats, and set traps for the feral cats. There were 2 feral cats loose, and 2 traps.

That night, MK and J invited us over for some great food, and, as it happened, some great margaritas. Some really great, put-your-ass-under-the-table margaritas. We came home, and I went to the barn. I was standing around in the freezing cold barn without a coat, even, those maragaritas had warmed me right up! I was feeling nothing but happiness! Until I saw that the cat I thought I had trapped was a POSSUM. Yep, Possum #2. Too bad I hadn’t trapped it before going to MK’s house, as I could have brought it as a housewarming gift instead of the jar of applesauce. Instead, since B was the sober one, he had to drive it at 11:00 on a Saturday night, up to the forest preserve and let it out.

The traps were again baited, and we went to bed.

The next morning, we woke up and checked the traps. TWO OPEN TRAPS. Those cats were not about to take the bait, and apparently we had dispatched all of the possums.

We load them up and take them up to the vet.

But let me paint the picture for you: You have just woken from your slumber at 5:15 am, after a late evening involving alcohol containing a worm. You stumble out to the barn to do chores, and collect the cats. The collection process is a royal bitch because you have to sort out the ones that have already been neutered, you are cussing at the ones that have not trapped themselves, but are still underfoot begging for their breakfast, and the ones that have been trapped overnight have already pooped in their traps and stink to high heavens. They are crying and lunging and carrying on, and they are running back and forth from one end of the trap to the other as you try and load them into the car. It’s heavy, stinky, and messy work. The cats provide a chorus for the entire 65 minute drive, and they fill your car with a scent like none other. Of course, we have protection down for the interior of our cars, but the smell while traveling with them is overwhelming. You have not had breakfast, are starving and in dire need of caffeine, but don’t dare stop on the way, as there will be no way you can choke down food with that stench in your car.

Ultimately, all’s well that ends well, as we got the cats back and everyone’s been de-gendered, and they have been released back into the barn. God knows they won’t be so scarred from the event that they will not stick around for the next meal.

A footnote: B went to load some hay into the barn after we came back on Sunday night, and when he came in the house, he said,

“You’re going to be mad.”

Me: Wha?

“I saw another possum in the barn. It ran behind the fridge.”

I set the trap last night, but only caught a kitten. I’m turning into Bill Murray.

Playing (with) Possum

Okay, MK, here is the possum story:

A week or so ago, I came into the barn in the evening, and switched on the light. Usually the “pile” of cats disbands and comes running toward me in a “welcome food lady!” gesture. This particular day, the cats disbanded per usual, but one of them waddled the opposite way of the door. Upon further investigation, it turned out to not be a cat, but to be a possum.

Possums are ugly. They are like rats, relatively bald with patchy, coarse hair, with a nasty bald, pink, somewhat scaly tail. Their faces are not necessarily nasty, but it’s hard to get past the tail.

This possum was about as large as a cat, and strangely, he was not deterred by my presence—even when I grabbed a pitchfork and attempted to “encourage” him to leave the barn.

I have been instructed to kill any possum that shows up on my property, as possums can be carriers of EPM, a debilitating disease of horses. However, I could not bring myself to destroy him—especially with a pitchfork—simply for showing up in the wrong place at the wrong time. I just wanted him to leave, as the last thing I wanted was for "him" to turn out to be "her" with her babies in tow. I am sure she won't hesitate to use her teeth on me if she feels as though I am threatening her babies...

He finally went behind the refigerator in my barn, and I didn’t see him after that. (That was not what I had planned to happen…)

I thought maybe I had scared him away, and he would leave the barn after I left.

That was not true, and I found that out a few days later when I came into the barn and found a bottle of nutritional supplement knocked to the ground and completely chewed up. I knew it was not a cat!

I happen to have some live traps (long story, another blog post) and decided to set a trap for him. Of course, I knew that as soon as I baited the traps, that cats would be caught in them right and left. So I fed the cats in a large dog carrier, and lured as many of them in as I could. There were three cats left that would not be duped. Fortunately, I had 4 traps. Nearly immediately after baiting the traps, two cats were lured and trapped. That left one cat and two traps.

I came into the barn the next morning, and the one cat was still wise enough not to be trapped. However, both of the remaining traps had been tripped! One was occupied by a stray tom cat that has been quite a nuisance lately, and the other trap contained Mr. Possum! Success!

I contemplated breaking in my new .22 rifle and using Mr. Possum for target practice, but I considered that I would rather have a shooting course first, and dispatch Mr. Possum humanely. So that suggestion was out. I ultimately decided to take him to a nearby county woods park and let him go.

The kids were so funny—they wanted to go with me and see him off, and the whole drive there, they talked to him in their funny baby talk. He was not impressed as he drooled and played dead. He woke right up when we let him go, and he shot out of the trap like a bat out of hell.

All’s well that ends well.

MK: I don’t believe that possums course, per say, unless they are the bait. However, some folks do eat possums.

Roasted Opossum (Possum)

1 opossum

1 chopped onion

1 tablespoon of bacon fat

1/4 teaspoon of Worcestershire sauce

1 cup of bread crumbs

1 hard boiled egg

1 teaspoon of salt

water


Rub opossum with salt and pepper. Brown onion in fat. Add opossum liver and cook until tender. Add bread crumbs, Worcestershire sauce, egg, salt, and water. Mix thoroughly and stuff opossum. Truss like a fowl. Put in a roasting pan with bacon across back and pour one quart of water in pan. Roast uncovered in moderate oven 350ºF. until tender (about 2 1/2 hours).