It Is All Good…Even When It Seems Not So Good

Living on the farm has given me an appreciation for so many things that I took for granted living in town. I’ve discovered that there are two interconnected aspects to the same coin that is ever flowing Universal energy: the “arrival” and “departure” of life.

Several mornings ago my husband came in and told me I needed to check on a little poglet because it wasn’t moving around. He said Danielle was nosing it while the other little ones were trying to suckle. Well, to not have a poglet harass mom to suckle means there is something definitely wrong. And it was…the little poglet passed on. Another day had passed and two more poglets had passed on. A few years ago, I would have felt deeply saddened.

Today, even as I carry a small still and cold body away from where it was born into this place, I accept this “death” as part of a continual stream of God/energy/Universe. I don’t personally believe in “death” as, for me, all life is eternal; there is no beginning or ending, there just “is”.

We have had to put down a few animals because they were suffering and we couldn’t sit there and feel okay with allowing that level of pain to continue. The first time I had to put a chick out of its misery was rough…but I couldn’t let it suffer with its skin having been torn off its back, leaving the tiny muscles exposed for the larger chickens to pick at and likely cannibalize. It was in pain and barely breathing; as much as I didn’t WANT to do it, I couldn’t let it just die on it’s own like that.  

I have found that it is much better for a little one to pass on early, rather than later. When we get out of Mom Nature’s way, things usually take care of themselves in a gentle way. Sometimes we are called to assist, but that assistance is provided with kindness and compassion. I don’t grieve for the loss; I say a silent prayer of appreciation of the life I’ve had the pleasure to experience and enjoy and let go.

 

It's a Full Moon and We Have a Pile O' Pork!

 

Pile O' Pork!

Our sow Danielle had a litter of nine piglets (or poglets as I call them) sometime Friday. I call them poglets since I haven’t been able to have anyone tell me the difference between hogs and pigs. We raise Mulefoot Hogs, but I’ve heard them referred to as Mulefoot Pigs as well. I suppose I could have called them phogs (fogs) or phoigs (foygs), but the pog/poglet name stayed with me as more fun. Goofy reasoning, but there it is!

It is always exciting when babies—calves, poglets, chicks, ducklings—are born on the farm. Mulefoots don’t usually have large litters like other breeds (15 to 30…oy) tend to have which is one of the reasons we chose to raise Mulefoots—the little ones are about the size of a soda can, all black with tiny mulefeet, squeakers one and all. All the babies were dry by the time we discovered they had arrived and momma was nursing them and napping contentedly, so we figured she had them around noon. We have found that poglets don’t have too much fat under their thin skins, so plenty of straw or hay must be provided. While they snuggle next to mom and sleep or nurse they can stay warm, but there are times when mom needs a break and the straw or hay provides a very warm place to burrow. Their dad, our handsome boar Henry, has been attentive and helping to pile up hay in the nursery. He is pretty careful about not stepping on any little squirmers!

Some hog farmers told us a couple of things that have not proven to be the case for us or for anyone who has purchased breeding stock from us. For one, we were told you can’t keep a boar in with the babies because he’ll eat them. Henry has never been kept away while the babies are being born and raised. He, in fact, will stand guard outside the nursery and will lay across the entrance at night so they don’t wander out and nothing unwanted wanders in. As the little ones get bigger, they tend to crawl all over him and he just lays there, an indulgent papa. He has never eaten or chewed on a baby.

Poglets caught DWA--
Drinking While Asleep!

We were also told that the sows are mean as can be and will “hurt you bad” if you get near their babies. That may be true for some, but I think the difference for us is that our sows are handled…we rub their bellies when they are round with babies and milk, scratch their itchy spots, and talk to them. We aren’t in their pasture messing with them every day as though they were pets (because they are not pets), but we also don’t just toss food over the fence and never interact with them. I try to be respectful of my new mommas and never rush in and force them to let me handle or intrude. I let her tell me it is okay for me to be close and I don’t overstay my welcome. I do touch every baby, stroke mom a lot, try to count how many boys and girls there are, and do a look see on the whole environment.

The babies start moving out and about within a few days of birth, so the nursery expands rather quickly! But they are never left unattended for long and they are called to mom if they wander out a bit too far. They are funny to watch and listen to and I hope to get a couple of videos of them soon. In the meantime, we can truly say we have a pile o’ pork!

Kink, Barn Cat Extraordinaire

Having lived in the suburbs my whole life, all of the cats I’ve had were primarily indoor critters. It really is safer for a cat living in the city or suburbs to be an indoor cat—studies show they live longer since they aren’t at risk for fatal events such as being hit by a car whilst out during nocturnal hunts. We have a cat here in the house that belongs to my daughter, but her husband wouldn’t have been able to handle how much hair this big guy sheds out, so the cat stayed here with us and hangs out in our offices. I used to feel incredibly sorry for cats that were “forced” to live outside in the cruel wild world. I, like many other mortals, humanized the outdoor cat’s situation by agonizing that they must suffer so terribly with cold weather, lack of food and comfort, etc. Boy, was I ever WRONG!

One fall afternoon in 2007, my husband called me outside. He had his gun in his hand, which meant some trouble, but he also had a big grin on his face. He had me take a look at where we had fed the chickens. At first, all I could see were my hens and a few young chicks, pecking and scratching at the ground. Then I looked closer…and there was a small kitten that was, surprise surprise, not chasing after my chickens to eat them but munching the grain right along with all the rest! 

Gettin' a drink from the horse water trough while perched precariously on the rim...it is an art form to behold!

It took me about four weeks to tame him down, but I finally did it with patience and dry cat food. Soon he was spending nights in the feed building, snuggling inside a box of straw (which is incredibly warm), greeting us in the morning with loud cries for cat food, and leaving us the occasional mouse gut present. He leaves us mole, vole, and mouse presents on the hay bales; we thank and reward him well. Sometimes he is gone for a few days but he usually shows up again, sometimes a little worse for wear because he’s been fighting, but happy to see us and get some food nevertheless. He earns his keep!

  

We named him Kink because it looks as though his head is cocked a little to the side, like having a kink in his neck. In all likelihood, this is probably the result of him being tossed out of a car on the way by the farm. Many folks wrongly assume that because you have a barn or property, you have the desire <koff koff> and room for critters others don’t want to feed or care for. Kink is probably not like a lot of barn cats around our parts because he is neutered and we maintain a rabies vaccine for him. He has never chased after any of the chickens or even the baby chicks as they scramble around after their moms. He and the dogs get along and he spends a lot of the day laying on a warm hay bale soaking up the sun.

Kink has buddies to keep him company. Three young male kittens came to stay with us: Larry, Curly and Moe (my husband loves the Three Stooges). All the boys are neutered and vaccinated. Many times I will find Kink and Moe curled up together on top of a hay bale, especially as it gets cooler. They can stay surprisingly warm among the hay bales and they have also bedded down with the sheep and hogs in their houses (filled with hay) as well. The Stooges also do not chase the chickens or baby chicks and have become accomplished hunters themselves—we owe it to Kink because he has kept them in line and they seem to regard him as a big brother of sorts.

Kink is my first true 100% outdoor cat and I’m glad he has helped me to feel better about him being outside. I know, having lain in a pile of hay, that he is absolutely warm, comfortable and safe at night. Outside of the dry food he and the Stooges get a.m. and p.m., he is well-fed and healthy. Most of all, he is as friendly and flirty as the boy cat inside…I think he likes it here. We sure like having him around! 

Kink in da hay

Today’s Weather, Sunny with Moderate Southern Winds…

 City or country, weather seems to play a role wherever you live. It is merely a matter of what you notice and how you work with it.

When I lived in the city, for instance, I could nearly always tell what kind of work commute I was going to have based on the weather (and sometimes the moon cycles). If it was going to lightly rain or drizzle, everyone on the roads drove as though the pavement were completely dry. If it was going to rain a lot, every other person drove timidly while others drove wildly. If it was going to snow, the ratio of  drivers who knew how to drive in snow was overwhelmingly few compared to those who were terrified of even a half inch of white powder on the road. If the sun was shining and all the planets aligned in perfect harmony, major accidents and tie ups on the highways didn’t seem to occur too often.





Fresh 'n clean!

Today is a boon weather day here. As it is determined to be windy as well as warmish, it is a stellar opportunity to wash and hang laundry on the line to dry. The beauty of hanging laundry on the line to dry is that the pressure is “off”. I have no buzzer to remind me that I haven’t pulled clothes out of the dryer and folded them before they wrinkle. Sometimes the clothes I hang out will dry in an hour, sometimes they take longer. I always start in the morning with my heaviest items—jeans, sweats, towels. Then if I have time, I move on to whites and colors. Sheets I always save for last because they dry very quickly whether the wind is blowing or not—usually a half hour of sunshine and they are dry and smelling wonderful.



Also, we have the opportunity to rework the inside of our barn to accommodate additional bales of hay. We have four times more hay this year than last and we want to keep it all as dry as possible. As we are expecting rain possibly toward the end of the week, now is a great time to get the remaining bales under cover. Wet hay molds and although the cows don’t mind a little moldy hay, the horses can get sick from it.  Although the number of animals on our farm that use the hay during the winter months isn’t a large number, I appreciate the abundance of hay and that we have a place to store it. I figure we will need it or we will need to help a neighbor who needs hay that we can spare. It is all good!

Although I have previously focused on what I can’t do (safely as dry and windy = no burning the trash), because of weather I decided to focus more on what I can do while we have this current weather in play. Besides, it will all be different tomorrow and the day after and the day after that.

Since coming to the farm, I have found that working with is much more satisfying and enjoyable than working against. I count my blessings and know that it will all work out and that there is time for everything, even when I think at times that there isn't.  

Burn Baby Burn!

The past few days it has been very chilly/cold/brisk and windy. The wind brings up three issues in my brain: first is the inaccuracy of the official “wind map” that says there isn’t enough wind produced in Missouri to power anything; second and, if it were warmer, I could dry clothes on the line in an hour; and third, when will I be able to burn my trash.

One thing I took for granted when living in the city/suburbs was trash removal. When you live in the city, your trash gets picked up by an anonymous group of folks (do you know anyone who picks up trash for a living? do you know their names?), for an anonymous “waste management” company (do you know which company your housing development contracts for trash pickup?), and off go your bags of junk to some unseen location (that would be the landfill that is in someone else’s “backyard”). I didn’t think about it because I didn’t have to take the time to negotiate costs for pick up or arrange for the days and times for the workers to pick up my trash. I only had to make sure I had the trash out at the curb (in “approved” containers that could NOT EVER be sitting on the sidewalk…) on the correct day and Viola! Several freshly emptied cans, usually not where you left them that morning (why did those trash guys toss my can into the next yard? Oh the horror…<please note the sarcasm…>), ready to haul back into the garage.

Here in the rural areas, you have to arrange and pay for private trash pick up. There isn’t a catch all tax levied against your property from which trash pick up servicing is paid. If you don’t have trash pick up, what do you do with your trash? Well, you can store it then load it up in your truck and take it to the landfill yourself (which isn’t free) or you burn it.

We recycle as much as possible: glass, tin, aluminum, cardboard, plastic, magazines, and batteries. We are lucky that we have a nearby recycling center which isn’t far away and they don’t charge for anything except the glass (because they are being charged more for having it hauled). What we burn is not as much if we didn’t recycle. Still, when it is windy, I cannot burn the trash. It has been dry here lately as well and even if it weren’t too dry, a windy day is not a good one for burning trash—the likelihood of starting a fire is too great (Smokey the Bear would be proud). We have burn barrels but I watch my burning trash carefully until the flames are below the top of the barrel. We also don’t have a fire department that comes charging up on brand-spanking new equipment to save the day—we pay yearly due for the volunteers that service our area.

We don’t mind, but it all brings to the fore that we have to be careful with what we do here. There isn’t a lot we can take for granted anymore and that isn’t a bad thing.

    

Baby it's cold outside!

A baby Mulefoot, snuggled
in the straw and catchin'
some warming rays.

Well, the weather sure has turned the corner here in the Ozarks. Yesterday it was nice, almost balmy even. Today, it is brrrrrrrry!! In light of the much cooler temps, part of my farm chores will be to load more straw into the various bedding areas for the sheep (Petunia and Penelope) and their Anatolian Shepherd (Griz), our two Mulefoot gilts (Polka and Dot…yeah yeah, don’t say it!), as well as our royal (and registered) Mulefoot boar (Henry) and his two pregnant girls (Danielle and Nicole).

During last winter’s bitterly cold days, I was amazed at how warm the straw was inside the Mulefoot house. When we would call to them at feeding time, all the hogs would scramble (the babies) and amble (the adults) out of the house covered in straw pieces.  Our two hair sheep do not have big fleecy coats so I am sure they have been snuggling together at night. Griz has his insulating undercoat already in place and I’m sure he will appreciate a warm bed to sleep in tonight.

We have plenty of firewood to run the wood burning furnace for the house, delicious and filling food grown here on the farm, and so very importantly, we have each other to laugh with and talk to. Be happy, warm, and well!