Bushel And A Peck: July 2012

At the end of the day, the intensity of our summer seems to directly correlate with the ring around our bathtub, and it's debatable which of us would take the cake if given the opportunity to compete. Our days seem to be done before they begin, but this is the time of year that really drives our family, we love summer and all that it brings to our farm. We go to bed tired, and often wake up sore, and looking forward to another day of productivity and the contentment that comes from watching our crops, calves and children grow.

The last few weeks have been all about haying, it's been a very dry year, which has been hard on the crops and gardens, but has made for some excellent hay weather, and we have been blessed with some nice quality feed for the winter. Jamie starts each day by doing maintenance on the equipment and fixing any breakdowns, we've had two major breakdowns in the past couple days, one being the tractor he just spent the last few months rebuilding and a front end problem with one of our smaller tractors. The irony in this is that such problems seem to be common place during busy times, yet it always seems to be our newer tractors that wind up parked, and our two late 1960's/early 1970's John Deer tractors just keep plugging along. The 4020 and 3020 are our two main Work Horses, while our newer tractors have had many face lifts, engine and transmission jobs, etc., these tractors shut off in the fall, turn on in the spring and handle 90% of our field work. We depend so much on these two old relics that they've practically been granted their own characters over the years.

"The 40" as we call our 4020, isn't your conventional beauty, she hasn't been lovingly restored and kept under cover only to come out when the weather is nice. In Truth she's a bit like the Old Gray Mare, it's not that the notion to refurbish the old gal hasn't struck us numerous times, just that we can seldom spare her the time to offer such a luxury, when she's relied on so heavily in the field. Quite honestly, she's a beast. A big, stinky, hot, dusty, loud beast. Depending on which way the wind is in, The 40 will cook you working in one direction, and leave you wishing for a sweater on your way back down the field. Without air conditioning, the doors have to be removed just to bare the heat from the engine, which renders the dash area (if you can call it that) almost untouchable, and can make a person jump if wearing shorts. For several hours after a day of baling, the operator is left with the sensation that they are vibrating, and feeling the need to yell due to hours in her deafening roar.

THE 40

Still and all, she is our number one, just the other day, I was baling with The 40, and considering how reliable she has been for our family, when, while waiting for a round bale to tie, her front wheel simply fell off. Assuming something major happened to the Old Gal, I quickly shut her off and ran across the field to where Jamie was loading bales to haul home, to bring his attention to the three legged mule. In the end, several of the bolts had come lose allowing the wheel to just flop off, The 40 was quickly jacked up with the loader of another tractor, her wheel put back on and the bolts tightened, and after some wiggling and fussing to get her started (she doesn't start if she's still hot), we were on our way up the field again.

Our girls are growing as fast as the weeds in our garden, Bethany quite enjoyed the many puddles formed during the one week of rain we received this summer, and for a few days averaged a bath for every time she played outside, which is typically quite a few. It seems our baby is quickly becoming a kid and has developed a "larger then life" personality, she is now developing some decipherable words along with an undisputed opinion, and has turned into a real Dare Devil, we need only to say "No", or "careful Baby" for her to step just close enough over the line (both metaphorically and physically), to stop my heart in it's tracks and make Jamie laugh with great pride.

I HAVE A THOUGHT!

Grace's level of maturity seems to have hiked from that of the average 40 year old, to someone much older. Always an old soul, she has taken a huge interest in the farm this year and takes every opportunity to go to the fields with either Jamie or her Poppa Walk and sit on the tractors heater while probing for all sorts of farm related information. She wants to know what all the crops are she sees in the fields and of course, share what information she herself has stored away. This year Grace is a Chicken Farmer, she has 69 chicks that she helps us tend. One morning after Jamie took her and Beth to feed the flock, she came running back in and in a panic stricken voice announced that her little sister had grabbed a baby chick and squeezed it's head, assuming the worst, I said "Oh dear, is the chicky ok?" To which Grace immediately cooled her over dramatic tone and simply says "yeah, it just looked at me and said "Whoa, didn't see that coming!""

GRACE AND HER CHICK "WHISKERS"

LEMONADE

It's been a summer of growth and valuable lessons for Grace, while life's lessons are endless, it seems she's entered a new stage in her young journey and has been faced with some pretty big realisations. One such lesson came from an old cow now known as "Pudding".

Pudding wasn't always Pudding, anything but really. she'd been dubbed with many names, that wouldn't really be appropriate to repeat at this point, but mostly Pudding was known, for the last 10 years or so, as "The Gate Jumper". Never has there been a time that Pudding didn't jump the gates at least once while trying to work with the herd for whatever reason, and more then once she's escaped by hopping the gates several times in a single day, a few times even tangling herself up and bending our steel gates. She was flighty and nervous, and would bulldoze whomever tried to herd her, and every year we would decide this would be her last. Then, every year, she would birth one of our best calves and we would "let her have one more year to raise that calf".

This year however, when we ran the herd through for worming, just before we put them out to pasture, "The Gate Jumper" just wasn't herself. We knew she had been looking poor, and wondered if hardware could be the issue, (a condition where a cow ingests metal such as stray nail or fencing steeple, which embeds in their stomachs and festers. A large cow magnet is usually sent down through the mouth and will simply stay there to attract any hardware in the stomach) , and we decided to give her a magnet if we could persuade her to go in Head gate. In the end, she tried to evade us for only a minute then made her way calmly into the Shoot, where we treated her and let her go. The Gate Jumper, stumbled, fell, and refused to get up. Assuming she was fighting an infection, Jamie ran to get her some medication while I watched her lay in the most awkward position and assumed she had somehow hurt herself. Just before Jamie returned, the cow got shakily to her feet, walked to the centre of the pasture, and laid down for the last time.

The next day, The Gate Jumper was still laying in the same spot, which is directly below our house, where Grace had many questions and showed great concern. While Jamie and I couldn't help but be concerned and certainly do not like to see an animal suffer, mortality is a fact of farming and we couldn't help but ponder if this would be the Old Brutes last year on the farm. In an attempt to keep her comfy and see if she would rally around, Jamie and Grace spent the day making trips to turn her over and bring her feed and water. On each visit, Grace would rub the cows face while Jamie turned her and carried her feed and water, and I couldn't help but think, if the old gal was capable, she'd all but steamroll poor Grace and her loving pats. After several of these trips to doctor The Gate Jumper, Grace came in and announced that she called the poor sick cow Pudding, because she looks like Chocolate Pudding. Anything but appropriate for the torturous beast she was, I inwardly laughed then told Grace it was perfect.

The following day, we decided to call the vet in for Pudding as she was declining instead of getting better, it looked like quite an event as I watched from the patio, the vet, his arm to the shoulder inside, well, Pudding, Jamie, assisting in whatever way he could, and Grace along with her cousin, patting Pudding and keeping the other cattle away from her. The kids spent the morning driving the 4-wheeler up to the house for water and back to the cow, I asked Grace if the vet knew yet what was wrong, and expecting to get a simple answer like "Pudding has a tummy ache", she matter-of-factly informs me that Pudding's baby died inside her and was making her very sick, the vet thinks that once they get the calf out Pudding may make it, but they are not sure yet if they can save her." Slightly dumbfounded by this mature acceptance and understanding of the situation, and knowing what may be forthcoming in Pudding's treatment, I asked Grace if she would like to come in the house for a bit. She quickly answered no, the vet needed them to bring more water and Pudding needed her to keep the rest of the cattle away and bring her her lunch. Not entirely comfortable letting her take so much part, but realising the value of the lesson she was experiencing I hugged her and let her go.

After a couple of hours watching my little girl completely absorbed by her new purpose, she came into the house, dirty, tired and on top of the world. I asked how her patient was doing and she told me fine, but she still didn't know if she would be ok. Pudding wasn't ok, and by the next morning had passed away, I was crushed for Grace, because of the time and energy she had invested and I knew she became very bonded with the poor old brute in a very short time. Of course the first thing she asked when she woke up was how Pudding was doing, I didn't want to sugar coat the answer, but I did want to soften the blow, I reached out to hug her and as I told her that Pudding didn't make it, I braced myself for her reaction. With that same mature resolve of the day before, she finished the hug and said "I'll miss her" and that was the end of the discussion.

We've been without Internet for several weeks, hence the lack of posting, but now seem to have the problem resolved. Below you will find some more pictures to fill you in on some more of what we've been up to.

RECIPE:

BROCCOLI SALAD

SALAD
1 Head Broccoli steamed in Microwave for 2 minutes (just long enough to slightly soften it)
1/3 cup Cheddar Cheese
1/3 Pkg fried and crumbled bacon

DRESSING
1 cup Mayo
3 TBSP White Vinegar
1/3 cup White Sugar
dash Worcestershire Sauce
Salt and Pepper to taste