the good kind of harrowing

We broke the plowing up into three days. Today was our first chance since then to harrow. The spike harrow is totally cool -- light and easy to work and very effective. If you want more details and photos, go to May 2010 and you'll find them.

An aside, I think the husband should make an extra harrow or two and have them for sale. Not take them to the auction or anything, just have them available, because there might come to be a few more sane people looking for something effective. In that same sort of vein, I've been thinking about what sort of a horse I'd breed if I did such things. It ends up being "Justin Morgan had a horse" except modern Morgans are not like that -- it would be a saddle horse that could plow and maybe pull a log. Good temperament would be a priority, as would good feet (so it could go barefoot), and easy keeping too. I do not have the means or desire to be a horse breeder, but I do think of such things. People mainly breed to sell.

Anyway, it was beautiful, cool after the storms of a couple nights ago (such devastation very close to here), sunny, breezy. The earth smelled so good. And even the places where we were saying just a few days ago were "thin" under the plow were beautiful under the harrow. We'd hope to get yet more loads of manure on it this year.

The spring draft horse auction is tomorrow and I think I will go there and see about harrowing again on Sunday.

the beginning of peace, love & brotherhood

Open Gates

My daughters and I finally opened up the "January Field" today. We're a little late. And it has been a rough winter. All of our old animals know the January field. The new cow and her calf, however, didn't.

We had to stretch a little hot wire but first we called the animals over and opened the gate. Old cow said, "Yes," and went straight for it and buried her head in the standing mostly dead but green at the bottom grass. Donkey came and guarded the threshold until Duke made it that far. Duke moves more slowly but once he figured out why we were hollering for him, he was on his lumbering way. Donkey followed him through the gate. The calf had been hanging out behind the now open gate. She pushed it as though she was pushing it shut. New cow didn't move from where she'd been all along.

I first got in the field behind the calf and asked the calf to come out. She came around the gate but would not go through. I went to get her mom thinking the two of them together might go. I've been around cows before enough to know that when going over a threshhold, well, I've seen them all balk and balk and balk until finally one goes and then they all go like they are water flowing. These two just balked. Uh huh, no way Jose, I'm not going over there. Nothing is in their way and there is grass on the other side and also all of their field-mates are on the other side too but no.

Eventually the calf did come, at least partly because old cow is as much mother to her as new cow. Calf, by the way, is just as big as the other two now.

And to be honest, new cow probably didn't cross the threshold as much because she was born and raised on a dairy farm. Until she came here, she'd always had the same herd, always on the same farm. She's done really well but she isn't as wily as old cow who's been a homesteader all along.

As the girls and I were stretching that bit of fence and we were talking about how stupid those cows were to be doing that, I said to them, "You know girls, we can be exactly that way. We get used to an obstacle being in our way, we get used to one way of how to do things, and we'll stand at an open gate with a whole field of grass on the other side exactly like that."

We stood there a moment, taking it in and wondering what open gates we just might not be seeing.

in no particular order

Things that made me smile today

blue and black bunnies

this is Snowflake in her summer plummage -- and doesn't she have great "Chicken Run" legs going on?

my boy and his summer dapples

this image took my breath away

girls on the side of the hill

because I'm contrary -- and I loved such a tight shot including at least three types of flies and a drop of blood

the state of her dehorn repair -- and ain't she just the cutest thing!
and this image likewise continues to take my breath away

Harrowing

So this is the harrow; the spike harrow to be exact. We'd gotten a larger one some years ago and used its spikes (just railroad spikes) and other hardware to make this slightly smaller one for one horse to pull. It isn't that it is difficult to pull but smaller is easier to maneuver and we don't have acres and acres we're trying to do.

This is the first pass. The ground is rough from the plowing but as that's been several weeks ago, there are also things sprouting and re-rooting. The harrow's job is to even things out a bit, break up clods, things like that. It doesn't have to do it all in one pass and in fact cannot. This is not a machine that plows, disks and lays out your seed bed. Time is your friend with this modus operandi. I mean, what else are you going to be doing with a couple of perfect May mornings? And if you did actually have something else to do, it couldn't possibly be better than harnessing the horse and walking behind him for awhile, taking in that wonder rich smell of the good earth.

This is the second pass the first day. You can see there are still some clumps of perennials that are well rooted. A pass with a shovel took those out. And everything, all over, is getting more even.
This is the rest period place. Although he didn't blow much at all in doing the harrowing. Still, he gets to blow and cool off and rest.

This is the second pass on the second day. We didn't get any photos that really showed the consistency of the soil but it is good and rich although you can still tell the parts of it that have had more manure over the years and the parts that have had less. Our gardens have been worked twenty years and that is really what permaculture is about if you ask me.

And this? This is what we found when we quit harrowing the second day! We're now a three cow family! And then we went swimming. And those are only a few of the pleasures of life on the farm.

Addendum: or What I forgot to say when I got in a hurry:

I finished harrowing and walked the horse up to the house and took his harness off. Donkey didn't follow us right away to the field and so I left the gate open and looked around for the cow. I saw old cow down near the bottom. I took the horse path around the side of the knoll to get a view of more of the back bottom. When I caught a glimpse of new cow, she was facing away from me with her head in the grass like she was grazing but I could see afterbirth hanging. I hurried a bit knowing she was probably licking a baby but still thinking of all the other possibilities -- maybe she'd had it and it was stashed and she was grazing, maybe she hadn't had it yet, etc. When I got close enough to see that it was lying on the ground, flat out on the ground, not moving at all, with her licking it, I thought oh gawd it is dead over and over until I got close enough to see its eye and then I thought that eye is NOT dead! and all the while I was watching how she would react to me coming up to her this soon after birth, and if old cow was going to intrude too, and if either one of them was going to feel threatened by me. Old cow stayed back for a good while, new cow was a little concerned about my presence but not much. All the other animals gave the goings on a wide birth until introductions the following day.

Once again I will say that the hardest thing about midwifery is not interfering. Yet it is also the most important thing. Make sure nothing goes wrong but don't cause anything to go wrong yourself.

Homesteading

Well, first these little guys came in.

Then we finally worked out a day to do the plowing. Above is where we began and below is the handiwork about 2/3 finished. Of course it is also the handiwork of years adding to that soil and working it and growing in it.

And then this was a supper -- pan blackened chicken. Not our own chicken but delicious nonetheless. Must do it outside to do it right.

Soon the rectangle garden will be harrowed and then planted. Perhaps this will be the year we'll actually harrow it in the fall and plant a cover crop and all? I never actually feel badly about it as the weeds make the cover crop but it might be nice to deal with fewer weeds?

All this took place in the past week and here it is Mother's Day before I get it posted and I just have to say that I am so glad to be in this place, with these people, to grow these roots and these wings.

Spring Auction

That's the scene when you walk up outside at the fairgrounds for the Draft Horse and Mule Auction, spring edition. Lots of trailers, lots of trucks, lots of people, lots of horses. Most but not all of the people have on hats. All of the "real" people have on appropriate footwear. It is your footwear that gives you away. Interesting.

Isn't that a pretty pair? They were a Percheron/Spotted Draft cross but neither came out spotted.

This is taken exactly at my eye level; my attempt to provide perspective as to how big these good ole boys were.

A mule for my daughter. There was also the cutest little yearling mule there with four white socks. But in the end, I always go for the classic mule look.

This is Betty Sue if anyone remembers her from her being here a few years ago. My neighbor had bred her, foaled her, her baby died, he sold her, the new owner foaled her, she didn't catch this year so she's at the auction for sale. I think she remembered me, I swear I do.

Now, this little mare is also in that first photo up there. She's a Percheron cross (it didn't say with what but something not too big, my first guess would be quarter horse) and she's in foal to a big Thoroughbred. I'm always a sucker for the pregnant mares, the two for one deal and if I were to pick one I wanted to buy before they went up for sale, she'd be it.

Not all the horses looked this good. A few were skinny. So many needed some work done on their feet. And since they won't sell horses until Saturday, most of the ones for sale aren't even there yet.

I had a mission this year. My horse has lost some weight as he's aged and I needed to get a smaller collar. I knew I only had enough money for a used bargain one but I was quite shocked at the rise in price of the new ones since I bought mine. Like double or triple. Leather has done this too, partly because environmental regulation has made it pretty impossible to tan leather on any scale anymore. I'm all for the environment but I think we should think about some of this stuff twice. And don't get me started on the stupidity of the slaughter legislation.

This is my friend Billy. I grew up with him. His horse's name back then was Rex, a big grey racker who could park out, hoo boy. Billy's girlfriend's horse was Teardrop. My best friend's horse was Honey. They were all such good horses and good times. Billy helped me critique the available collars of the appropriate size and I got a good deal without even having to bid. Man, you had to bid fast today if you were going to get in so I was glad to not have to do it although I did have my number.

Next we'll have to see how it fits.

Plow Day

just almost the very last furrow

We’ve been wondering if it was ever going to get dry enough. Which, after years of drought is a wonder that no one complains about. Still. Middle of April and we hadn’t plowed. The dogwoods are not out yet so it is not time to plant the hard corn, but it is a little late for potatoes. Not that potatoes don’t just sit there and stare at you for a couple of weeks when you plant them early, and can be some in danger of rot or mice or, if they do decide to grow, frost damage. Still. It felt behind.

nearly the whole field

I had not thought we’d get it all plowed so quickly. Not that it is that large. But last year, while we did it all in a day, we started in the morning and finished in the evening, giving the horse a large break in the middle and I remember him being tuckered from the effort.

This year I’d recruited my younger daughter to ride the horse every day she could, slowly increasing the distance, and she’s been doing that, oh, probably about a month, maybe more. He did so well and I am so proud of him and of her. He is so big that just hauling his large self around is taxing (our plowing doesn’t require much of a pull) and a month of walking the hills and when I’d stop to let him blow at the end of a row, he’d be shaking the lines saying he was ready to go.

Donkey, by the way, was not winded at all.

blowing

While daughter was getting him in shape, younger son also decided he was a good horse rider. So he rode some today and also took his turn as assistant plowman. The girls took the opportunity to weed out the strawberry bed. And everyone played in the creek of course. Including, after we were all done, the horse.


Meantime the dog found the cool of a deep furrow

and one of the cats kept a running commentary from the cool of the road.

It was an exceedingly pleasant and productive day. We were well pleased with it and ourselves.

all photos for this day taken by elder son.

For comrades and lovers

Click link in title
We are feeding square bale hay this winter. We are feeding other people’s waste hay and I am thankful for it. We store it on pallets and under tarps near one corner of the field. We feed it by taking a bale out, throwing it over the fence, then breaking it open and distributing it in at least four piles at least 20 feet apart so all the various animals can eat in relative peace. Although everyone except the horse plays musical piles. The horse stands there and eats until he is through.
If you know animals though, you know they don’t actually eat every scrap of hay (well, unless they are starving, and even then there is some waste especially when feeding outdoors). So we feed it in different locations every day. By the end of the winter, this will provide a good mulch for the whole field and will prevent a build-up of hay (and a worn out by hooves muddy mess) in one spot.

No surprise, all the easy places have been fed in already, so we are walking the hay further and further afield. No surprise, the animals all know what we are doing when we make our way to the hay, and wait for us patiently to throw it over the fence to them. That is the end of their patience. They are ready to eat and so tear into the bale.

When I am throwing the hay, I cross the fence and pick up the bale and start walking up the hill. The cow generally just gets out of the way and follows, but the queen nanny goat gets directly in front of me but generally sideways to me and tries to continue eating.

And here is what I do: I lift the bale a bit and set it on her back. Then I do my best to follow her. She carries it for me while I balance it on her back, and when we get close to a good spot, I drop it and she resumes eating.

This, I will tell you, is much easier than carrying the bale up the hill by myself while trying to push her out of the way or maneuver around her. It is a bit of a challenge, and I have to jog up the hill to keep up with her, but it is kinda fun too. At least it nearly always makes me laugh.

That little goat is my own labor saving device.

Sacred Sights

First of all, my
STUDIES OF DONKEY.

And the donkey himself. The equines got their feet done today so he had his halter on.
The cow. If I'd had someone with me to take the photo, I would have had one with the two of us lying there together. She's still full of piss and vinegar but she's also that docile too. Turned a lot like me I think.
The horse.
And the gang eating hay near sunset.

Hope ya'll had a Happy Yule, a Merry Christmas, and are looking forward to 2009. I think it shall be a watershed year.

Pleasure's Songs

Every day, twice a day, I milk the cow then feed the horse. I milk, bring the milk to the house, prepare the horse's feed, then go back down to the shed to feed him. Every day, twice a day, when I am on my way back down the hill to feed the horse, the donkey sings his song to me. Sometimes it is loud and long, and sometimes it is soft and low, but always he sings his song and he sings it for me.

He gets a handful of grain and my enormous affection in return. I love his song.

I also love a bath. There is not anything that a bath cannot make a good deal better. And when I finally got a bath, well, I'd almost forgotten how to take one. I think I'll go take another one.

From October Actually

Look what I found! The software to re-size these so I could upload them! Here is what else is funny: I recently exchanged e-mail with someone I took a class from way back in college. One of the things I most remember him doing was absolutely rasping us for taking "snapshots" instead of "photographs". We were hiking across the Grand Canyon -- and according to him we were not to take snapshots. Well, baloney. I am not above taking the artsy craftsy photograph, that's for sure, and there are images that will stick in my head that I want to take, but snapshots, those are the staff of life, really.

And all places are sacred. Just sayin'.

So like I said, these are from October.

Every October there is a draft horse auction. It happens to be my social event of the year, and there is a man I see there every year who I grew up with: Billy, and he was the cutest thing back then. When I left home, he was a coal truck driver. When I ran into him again, he was a horse logger. When I ran into him this year, he said he'd quit logging since it had become just trading dollars back and forth (that is, it isn't something that you can make money at right now with the price of logs being what it is). So at least one of the other things he's doing is making harness. This one was his, for sale at the auction. I can't say that his taste is my taste, honestly. His dimples are still cute though.


I just liked this shot of three young horses sharing a stall, waiting for the auction.

This is a billy goat. Quite a magnificent billy goat. I also like this image. It was raining that day.

And finally, a tree full of turkey buzzards. They make the most amazing sound when thirty of them take off from the same area at about the same time. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. Poachers had left a deer carcass to rot was why they were there. A little six point buck. My dog always brings the bones home.

Ok, photos on the blog again!

Morning Chores in Snow

This is the first time in my memory that we’ve had significant snow in November. And it is significant. We woke up to several inches and it was still snowing.

I went to milk after fortifying myself with coffee and donning multiple layers for warmth. Visibility was maybe 100 feet, up to 200 sometimes. Then the wind would blow and the snow on the trees, and especially on the pines, would say “Geronimo!” and the air would look like a fog.

I always milk first and feed the horse second, but both things happen in the same little shed and most usually the horse is waiting in the shed even before I milk and I bark “Back!” to him and used to he backed out (he is trained to voice commands) but now he turns around to get out and the shed is just barely big enough for him to manage to turn himself around in. But he comes out and he and donkey wait just outside the shed while I milk and the cow eats.

Milking is a meditation, really. My consciousness becomes a speck while my body continues to sit on the stool and my hands continue to squeeze the milk into the bucket and I am not my body and I am not separate from the cow or from the bucket. This morning I was in such a state when the speck of consciousness became aware that something was eating my hat! The horse was a bit impatient maybe, or maybe he just thought the giant pompom on my hat was funny. My consciousness was immediately aware of my body being on a stool stuck between a 700# cow and an 1800# horse who pretend they don’t particularly like each other. “Back!” I said, and he took a step or two back and I laughed at him and at the beauty of the morning.

Then I took the milk to the house when a wind came and blinded me under the trees and I just stood there while white came down all around me and into the collar of my coat. The children were already sledding, laughing. I took the feed back down to the horse, gave the donkey his obligatory handful, and waited while the horse eats. Donkey took his usual aromatherapy from the empty bucket while I scratched his withers and admired his snowy, spiky mane and the curls on his thick coat. I turned to check the horse over and found a place that needed my attention, just an itchy spot on the side of his hock, and while I was bent over attending to this I felt something quite heavy come up against my behind. It was donkey’s behind. After his withers get scratched, he has a spot on his rump that is his real favorite spot and he can be quite insistent that I attend to it. While I did this, the goats came up waiting to clean up any grain the horse may drop. They were fluffed out to twice their real size.

When the horse was finished I went to get a bale of hay and throw it to them in piles in the field, and then I found my way back to the house and to a breakfast of eggs and toast by the fire.

Art and Artistry

I went down to feed the horse one night and just saw these lines laying on him. He is one magnificent beast.

But real artistry is not about something as two dimensional as drawing. I've always thought, really, that supper on the table every night is artistry. It isn't the only form of artistry, but it is a real one.

Not Quite Life on the Farm

aka the Horse Show

There was a Pony Club Fun Show to be held at the barn. The owner of the barn offered my girls the use of a pony if they’d like, and the lady who ran the show this year heard this and offered her two minis for my girls’ use. The minis are too small for them to ride, but they had options to show them “in hand”.

The Pony Club is an organization to basically get kids “started right“ with horses -- you know, good, responsible, safe horsemanship -- and the fun show is an informal and fun and very inclusive fundraising sort of event. One of the classes is a costume class, and it being this close to Halloween, that class was an obvious place for the girls to start. They took their Halloween costumes and expanded them to have ponies as accessories: the witch sort of girl in a cloak brought her pet spider-pony with her, and the elfin huntress carried her bow and brought a pony with antlers who’d been shot through with a magical arrow.

The other class the girls entered was the in hand trail class. The lady who set up and judged trail loves trail and set up an obstacle coarse that was just beautiful. The local gun club donated their target animals and she used lots of brush and, well, let me just tell you about it. Trail is done one at a time. First you entered the arena, came to a halt, and checked your horse’s left front foot for a stone. Then you both walked up to an obstacle with an orange hunting vest and a foam target gun in holster hung on it. Lurking behind this in brush was a “fox”. You put the vest on and got the holster and attached it to your belt. Then you walked over a “bridge“ (raised wooden platform), then forded a “raging river” (a blue tarp with water on it). In the corner were two “turkeys” to investigate. Then you picked your way through a “downfall” (poles and brush set as low obstacles to walk through), then up to a water tub with “fish” in it. A “raccoon” was getting a drink of water from the “pond” but nonetheless, you had to fish until you caught a fish, then release it. The next obstacle was a lane to walk through that happened to have a herd of deer very near it. You walked your horse through the lane, then backed up the entire length of it (about ten feet), then continued through on the course. The next obstacle was tall brush that you had to walk through, and as you might imagine, a horse could feel trapped here, or squeezed. Especially since the first sight on the other side of the brush was two “bear”. The assignment here was to take out your foam target pistol and shoot the bear! Then trot back to the entrance in a controlled manner, halt, ground tie your horse (basically, drop the lead and have the horse stand as though you were holding him), and walk around your horse. After you were finished, you were to collect the “dart” from the bear and put it and the safety vest back in place for the next participant.

There were three divisions of trail; novice mounted, intermediate mounted, advanced mounted, and open in hand. This meant that my girls competed against everyone else who did in hand on a strictly equal basis, no matter age, experience, or anything. It is traditional that everyone in the costume class gets a ribbon, but the trail class is not so coddling.

Now, I’m not a big fan of competition, especially not for competition’s sake. I believe there are other far more useful ways to relate to the world. But many horse competitions started from things people did with horses because they were useful to do. This trail class really showed how “broke” a horse was, how trustful and responsive to his handler he was, how much he’d been exposed to before, how he had been handled and trained. My girls took ponies that they weren’t that familiar with (they worked with them on two different days before show day) into an event that they knew very little about and handled it all with aplomb. I couldn’t have been more proud of them.

And the rest of the family got as much a kick out of it. I wasn’t sure everyone would even want to go to the show. Shows drag on and on, the day was supposed to be cold and wet, and there were lots of things on our own farm to capture people. Yet elder child said when asked, “Of course I want to go! How often does a brother get a chance to watch his sisters compete in a horse show?” Younger was just as excited. Husband wisely took a book.

At the show, the girls and I were largely busy. The ponies were to be used by other children in a couple of classes so we wanted to make sure to get ours in, and have the ponies ready for the other classes on time too. And there was a silent auction to check out, and friends to talk to and cheer for, and noses to pet. The boys oriented quickly. We did the trail as soon as we could get ready for it and everyone watched. Then younger found another child with a Nintendo and watched over his shoulder. When he wasn’t doing that, he very uncharacteristically went around and talked to everyone. “Hi, what’s your name? My name is ____.” And when he’d see someone with a ribbon, he’d give them the thumbs up and say, “Good job!” with his infectious grin. Other child wandered amusing himself. Husband went back to the car to read.

Although they were entered as two separate entries, both the girls got a second in the costume class. No matter what the ribbons were, their costumes were the most creative and unusual there. I mean, a knight in shining armor and a princess on a unicorn are pretty common ideas, don’t you think? But a pony dressed as a spider or shot through with an arrow? How unusual! So it was a good opportunity to stress to all the kids that even when you compete, it is all about how YOU feel about it. Ah, but in the trail, one got a second and one got a fourth. In the OPEN class! It took me awhile to impress on them that they’d competed against every other horse they’d seen go in hand, and some they hadn’t seen, and they’d done that well! This wasn’t a costume, “let’s make sure everyone goes home with a ribbon” class. They’d really done well.

Now, some people have called me a hypocrite for participating in this, what with my ranting and railing against waste and falsity. Certainly, a horse show could be said to be a waste and a falsity but I do not determine that our participation in it was either. And I don’t allow other people’s judgments of my activities to be the measure that I use. I use my own measure. Which is the very thing I say other people should do when they accuse me of judging them.

And you should have seen the Divine Ms. D compete on her Adonis! And her husband with her ribbons across his chest hanging from the pockets of his shirt! Our barn’s own Mr. Ed won the beginner division championship. And there were so many more! Harley in dressage suitability, Gabby as a pumpkin with her scarecrow handler, Heather in the instructor’s class (“please reverse, drop your stirrups, then rising trot“), Zu getting thrown in warm up and coming back to place second in equitation, Charm showing her charming self.

Vignettes

my equine boys

I always love oddly framed photographs like the above.

the only kitten who isn't afraid
In fact, she loves it up there. She stayed until I was working on his front hoof then she walked to his shoulder and jumped down on my head.

a day at the lake

No, not a real lake, the TVA kind but only a hop, skip and jump from our house and, after school starts, delightfully deserted. This, among other things, has had me thinking about being a solitary soul.

not local but in season
Peaches actually can be local but these are not and this was not a good year for our own trees. The pies are fried pies which are biscuit dough rolled out, filled with fruit filling (this is peach), fried, dipped in sugar cinnamon. This sort of thing is what food is all about really.

So, are there lines for gas where you are? I hear there are here. Now just imagine life without unlimited gasoline for only 2 weeks. Now not only are the gas pumps empty, but the supermarkets are empty, and you can't get to work or if you can, there is no work to do because there is no gasoline. And everyone is complaining that someone ought to do something. Let me say now, that someone would be you.