Today Chris and his dad did a lot of work on a new water line for the chicken coop and new barn area. That required digging a trench.
Trenches for water line
Chickens like freshly dug dirt, a lot. Not only is it fun to explore, it has new and exciting bugs in it.
Carlton wanted to help. the blue stuff is the future water line.
Every time I checked on them today, they were all excitedly climbing around.
Over the hill we go
All the free range fowl are in the photo
Springsteen in action.
Clarence is crowing
Fun with Dirt
One good thing about the water being cut off is that I had to fill the chicken water in the garage. That gave me a chance to scrub the water dishes. I think they liked it.
Patty forgot her bowl was white.
Butternut and Buttercup like their white dish, too.
Like the chickens, Rip and the new heifers also explored their new territory a lot. The other bull calves ate and ate. Eventually the new gals figured out where the cubes are and came up to the pen, but it was too dark for a photo. But I got portraits.
This looks fun
This looks scary
I look like my dad
I look like a Brahma
Cattle Time
Everything is back in working order at the chicken coop. I even got the distressed fake rooster upright and out of the way.
Fake Rooster is guardian of the Wellsummer girls.
I wish everyone had a pet, wild animal, or other natural phenomenon to watch and enjoy. It sure makes these uneasy times easier to bear.
Yep, I got back to the ranch yesterday, just in time for some fun and news. Upon my arrival, I saw this:
Red flags forever
They block off the pond
There is a new fence in the front pasture, formerly known as a field. Apparently Chris came back to town and spent all Thursday night erecting this. The flags are very helpful, since it’s otherwise invisible. Why the rush to erect the fence?
Just cows
Kathleen brought back two of her cows from the farm in Yorktown to hang out here and join the three little bull calves. One of them is pregnant; I believe the brown one. They are daughters of her lovely bull, Johnny. They don’t have names, because they are just cows, and not pets (got it). The brown one is not real friendly, which is fine with me; I’ve never made it a habit of petting adult cattle unless someone says it’s okay (in other words, the only ones I have ever petted were Kathleen’s former bottle calves).
Now, what’s this?
To top off the excitement, Kathleen let the little guys out of their small pen. Their reactions were true to their personalities. Rip went crazy with glee. He ran and ran, jumped in the air, and made circles around the rock pile.
Rip flies around the rocks.
He’s still got a cough, poor guy, but that only held him up a little. He then proceeded to climb up the rock pile and try every kind of grass there was.
This is SO MUCH FUN.
Meanwhile, the other two discovered taller grass than was in their pen, and started munching away. I think they will be delicious and Rip will be a scrawny little dude forever. In any case, it was the best day of their lives. Everyone enjoyed scratching their heads on the trailer, too.
MMM, this is great, long as that dog stays on his side of the trailer.One happy calf.
After they all settled down, the new heifers came to investigate the calves, lick on them, and start to “herd up,” as they say. Chris is working on getting the ladies more tame, by enticing them with cattle cubes (also beloved of dogs). I know the little ones feel better with some older bovines to hang out with.
I look forward to watching all of Kathleen’s herd grow. I know she and Chris are both a lot happier with some cattle to work with up here.
As for the Chickens
Today was freedom day for the two Blue Star pullets. They are a month older than the Welsummers and HUGE. They were starting to bully the smaller pullets, especially Buttercup, who hurt her foot, so we decided to let them out. Of course, that didn’t go as planned, and instead of them leaving when I opened the door, most of the other chickens came into their pen. Oops.
I quickly got rid of the roosters, so no one else would get smooshed to death, but it took Chris’s help to get Star and Sapphire out, while keeping the other two in.
We are officially hiding.
The first thing Star and Sapphire did was go check out the feed in the other coop. That meant they were prime rooster targets, which did not thrill Sapphire one bit.
Why did you put us in here with THIS brute? (Hate to tell them, but the OTHER one is the brute.)
They went outside and tried their darnedest to get back into their other pen, but I am sure once they realize how many bugs there are out in the grass, they will be fine. They are already bigger than Hedley, so they can hold their own.
Speaking of the other hens, I think, but cannot confirm it, that all five of the adult hens are finally laying. I found three eggs this morning, and they were all solid brown. The absence of a white or ombre egg means Hedley and Fancy Pants had not laid yet. Well, that took a while. And big ole Springsteen, the Jersey Giant, is now making very large eggs. What a gal!
OMG! That giant rooster is DEAD! It’s the apocalypse! Run!
Being with the animals helps me a lot. I’m so happy to have them all. I’m still a bit shaky around people and having trouble communicating, but maybe by tomorrow I will be relaxed!
Remember, beloved readers, it’s okay to acknowledge your rough times and trouble dealing with things. It helps remind everyone we aren’t alone in having challenges these days. I can be having anxiety struggles and worry about world events (fires, floods, fighting) and still enjoy what’s good in my life and be thankful for kind friends and patient family.
I’m sure Vlassic was looking forward to some fun today, but the weather didn’t cooperate. It was another big rain day. For me, it was fun looking out the window while I worked upstairs.
Wetness and reflections.
For Pickle, the day meant a great deal of panting and shaking. I refrained from photographing her in her distress. Vlassic mostly slept through the storms.
Big, pre-nap yawn.
He “helped” me a lot in Zoom meetings, or acted as dead weight in my lap. He apparently gets bored hearing only one side of conversations.
I’m a cute dead weight.
He got a lot of licking in, too, especially after walking in the rain. I was really proud of him for managing to do the needful outside.
I’m about to jump in Suna’s lap.
Pickle finally got to safely go out around 5 pm. She can really hold her bladder! We got to see our neighbor, Katie, who was in the same boat. Rain is very hard on small indoor dogs. We humans were sad that book club got rained out for the second week in a row, too. Sigh.
I’m better after my walk. See, no trembling.
Vlassic is not complaining. Time spent with Suna is good time for him. He got to destroy a dog toy, so now he can spend the rest of the evening watching HGTV with Anita and Suna.
Ahh. Life as an indoor dog has its benefits.
I know Vlassic enjoys ranch life, but he sure isn’t complaining about his time in the big city, even when it’s storming outside.
I wrote this last night but fell asleep before I could publish it. I already post too much, so this is good.
I admit it. We don’t give the ranch dogs very many official dog toys. That’s because up until now, an expensive toy for hard-chewing dogs usually lasts about ten minutes (we DO have a rope toy that’s lasted a long time).
These two and a tennis ball are the hardy survivors.
But, yesterday I felt so bad for them, knowing three toys had been sitting on the counter since the last time I got home from Austin. I tossed each dog a toy, and fun ensued. Penney immediately took the gator outside.
Today I was surprised to see all three toys still in good shape, and all in the house. It’s been fun watching them play. They’re all a bit more gentle than they used to be. Penney kept chewing that gator, but eventually Carlton got ahold of it and slowly but surely got the crinkles out.
I’m in no hurry.
Meanwhile, Harvey fell in love with a toy that’s all the parts of a hamburger on a stretchy string. He really wanted the burger part, but every time he used his paw to get at it, the parts would slip and he’d get a face full of burger parts.
I’m gonna destroy this, yes I am.
Eventually he gave up and just held it, adoringly, between his feet.
My Love Burger
A little later, I looked down and he was holding it in his sleep. That is so NOT Harvey. He never cared for toys one way or another.
As the evening went on, the toys were traded around. Neither Carlton nor Penney could destroy the burger, and they didn’t like the blue blob much. Harvey switch allegiance to the partially eaten gator.
I feel disloyal to my burger.
Penney cane sniffing around, so he then hid the toy! This really made us laugh.
Gator? What gator? Just this ball of stuffing here, that’s all.
After dinner (we made turkey!), Penney finally disemboweled the gator, while Harvey and Carlton played together with the burger. Wow. Dogs acting like normal dogs! Not destroying toys instantly!
Maybe I’ll get them more toys. It did help to have multiples. Much less fighting.
I do love nature. But I admit to making a couple of creatures go away today. First, I went to make myself a cup of coffee at the office. As I began to pour creamer into the cup, something moved. It was a quite large American cockroach. Here’s how I knew what it was:
That’s one I saw at the old church.
I am very proud. I just made a little noise. That’s a far cry from my Florida childhood roach phobia (they would get in my bed). I simply took the cup and dumped the roach into the garbage can. So proud. But then I couldn’t get the bag out of the can, so I just set the whole shebang outside. Someone else can deal with it!
Meanwhile, I noticed a jumping spider on the windowsill. It was posing for me, and had lovely markings.
Pantropical jumping spider.
Of course it moved out of the sun into shadow before I could get a picture. Nor could I get a photo from the top. Anyway, I left that one to catch bugs.
When I got home and was reading The Overstory (yes, I’m actually gonna finish it), I got a text from Meghan, who had been feeding Rip the calf. Meghan does not “do” spiders. Her text had a photo of this:
Well, hello Mama, nice egg sac.
I can just imagine that poor woman when she saw that black widow, right on the fence near the hay, where both she and Jim go all the time as they feed the calves together. Eek!
So, much as I love Nature’s creatures, I felt compelled to bring out the spider spray. I don’t feel safe with them all around our ranch community! I keep picturing the horrible scar Granny Kendall had from a black widow bite.
Rip and Buster don’t want spider bites, either.
I found four nests, which are now former nests. My guess is there are plenty more out there, so I haven’t sent black widows to the brink of extinction. I’ll atone for the deaths somehow.
I’m baffled sometimes about how humans managed to connect so deeply with some other animals.
Fiona wanted to see my sister so badly this evening that she barged into the hay area just to be near her. Why? She’s full of love and wanted to share? I don’t know. But I do know equines sense our feelings.
95% love, 5% sass.
And tonight, though I want to go to sleep, I can’t move, because two dogs are glued to me. They’ve done this all weekend, perhaps somehow sensing I could use some comfort.
Carlton is on both of my legs. Penney is glued to the right one.
Yep. There’s a real connection between humans and animals. Even the chickens! It’s made my life better.
Hi, readers of Mama Suna’s blog! I’m Vlassic, and I’ve been hanging around the Hermits’ Rest Ranch for the past two years. I like it here a lot. Wanna know why?
I’m long, but I have longer legs so I can jump high.
I have so many friends! At night I sleep in Jim’s RV. He is so nice to me, and feeds me (I don’t go in the big house because Penney acts weird in there). When I go outside, I spend half my time with my bird buddies, Bertie Lee, Gertie, Fancy Pants, and Clarence. We like how cool it is.
Stay out of our coop, dog! The black chickens don’t like me so much.
The rest of the time I spend with my new friends, the Bull calves. It’s SO much fun there! Calf poop is so delicious, and they have a wonderful water bucket just the size for me to cool off my black coat.
Wait, Rip, it’s my turn! Photo by Meghan Land.
On good days, Mama Suna takes me with her to visit my other friends. Sometimes we ride the little bumpy car. Tonight, though, we walked. It was a beautiful night.
Rays!
I chased two of the 18 series cows, but just a little, to remind them of how we used to play when they were babies. Mostly I was good, though, because I wanted to see my friends.
Here are two friends, Big Red and Apache. The horse is jealous, because the hen gets fed first.
I love this place! There are so many smells of cattle dogs! I have many places where I simply must pee. They need to know Vlassic rules…when they aren’t here.
Take that, other dogs.
There are other fun smells here, too. I especially like donkey poop. Mmm. Thanks, Fiona. Sigh, I was disappointed she didn’t get to come out and play. I love making her put her head down and shake it.
I sure love poop. Why does Mama sweep it up?
The other great thing about where my friends live is that they have an even bigger water tub! I like to swim in it, but not when it’s full.
Big Red and I like to drink from it when it’s full!
After all the friends were fed, we went back. I had to investigate this new hay. It looks funny and smells different. Mama said it’s sorghum, whatever that is. I made sure to pee on it, so it won’t smell so new next time I come.
Funny hay. Needs pee.
As we passed the cabin, Copper the dog came outside, so I ran like the wind.
I’m outa here.
I ran and ran. Meanwhile, Mama saw a new cow patty on the road, that had appeared since we came by before.
That cow patty has a head.
As she got closer, she realized it was a turtle crossing the driveway. She told it hello, but for some reason, she did NOT call me over to introduce me! Geez! I’m nice to all the other animals!
Pleased to meet you. You can leave now.
After rolling a bit in some silage (it’s an acquired smell, but I’ve acquired it!), I ran back to Rip, Poop Nugget, and Buster, to see if they’d pooped any more.
We were just digesting over here.
Then, to end the evening right, Lee and the other dogs showed up! We played! Then it rained a little. Not enough, but it made Lee and Suna smile. We need rain, because my pond is gone!
Actually, my neighbor, Sara, competently ranched and I assisted, but it felt darn good to achieve a series of competent duties.
As you may recall from yesterday, Apache reached over the fence and chomped into the tenants’ round bales, nearly ingesting some of the netting. We wanted to nip that habit in the bud.
It doesn’t take a detective to see the evidence of this crime!
So, we planned to put an electric strand along that stretch of fence. Hmm, there was already wire. It’s as if some large spotted horse had done it before.
So, this evening, I went to get the solar unit that was over by our shipping container. Smart me. I first checked for wasps. There was a Yellowjacket nest. When Lee came to help me, I got spray and removed that menace. Sara was relieved I’d thought of it.
Then, after dinner, I headed over to the horses, and we set up the whole system. It was teamwork! I identified which wire was which. She figured out how to open the screwdriver part of the Leatherman tool to pry it open to change the battery.
Competence! Note Big Red at back left, supervising.
We got it all hooked up, and in another stroke of ranch competency, Sara inspected the connection to see if Apache had re-damaged the wire since last night. He had! But I was there to turn off the power so she could fix it.
Sara is inspecting the fence. Apache has already figured out the power is on.
Ralph came by to see if we needed help, long after we triumphantly fed our animals. He was duly impressed! We did it.
Now, hooking up an electric fence may not seem like a big deal. But for someone who had never even been on a ranch property (other than caring for turkeys at the farm for sad children that Declan went to one summer), doing something without asking for help is a big thing. It makes me feel like I sort of know what I’m doing here! No more ranch imposter syndrome for me!
I’m just innocently eating this delicious, expensive hay. After this, it’s back to the old stuff, thanks to that darned wire.
Also, once again, we had fun. I’m just racking up the fun quotient for each day. Take that, stress.
I’m still laughing inside after a fun evening romp with our trusty steeds, even though there was some drama in the middle. And, um, my hand hurts.
We met at 7:30 to do our evening horse chores together, which we always enjoy. Everything went fine, and we paused afterwards to watch Spice and Lakota walking together like old friends, and to look at how beautiful the sunset made sone eastern storm clouds look.
Romantic cattle chute
Suddenly, we heard coughing, rather loud coughing. Exchanging a look, we hurried toward the sound. There was Apache, continuing to cough. He was a great example of how coughs spread droplets, as we could see spray going way out.
See the moon up there?
Where was that spray landing? Why, on the hay bales on the other side of the fence, the ones encased in green netting. Uh oh. We zipped into the paddock, where Sara opened his mouth. My job was to see if there was any green stuff. Like the non-horse person I am, I stuck my hand in, to feel.
That wasn’t smart. I discovered just how powerful horse jaws are and how sharp their teeth are. Its just a little chomp, but I have a feeling it will look worse tomorrow.
I’ve put ice on it.
Sara gave Apache a treat, and he ate it just fine, so he dodged that bullet. I leaned on him to get the owie out of my hand and thank him for being okay. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement.
Whee
Fiona was done with all the drama, and decided to roll in her favorite dust patch. I was so glad I could get some pictures.
I have crazy ears. Time to get up!
When she was done, she sat and rested for a while. We couldn’t stop laughing at her pose. She looked at us like we were crazy. Apache kept coming between us to make sure we were okay.
I’m very proud of this belly!
Then the wind came up, and we all ran around like kids. Me, Sara, Apache, Fiona. Just living for the moment. I’m still having fun!
Come back, we want more fun!
It’s been a good day. Sending love to all. Back to icing my hand.
Today marks a rite of passage for the grass-fed beef business of my friends and neighbors, Sara and Ralph of Wild Type Ranch. We have said farewell to the foundation mama cow of their herd, and many others, our wide and beefy queen, R45.
Outstanding in her field. Photo by Heather Westmoreland.
I’ve known R45 since I first started coming to the ranch, so she is my oldest cow friend. It turns out she’s had a lot of adventures, for a Red Angus cow, and she’s been a wonderful leader of the herd since Sara and Ralph got her as a yearling.
We’ve always called her R45, even though all the other Wild Type cattle had cool names. Was I surprised to find out that she had a name: French Queen. Well, I think I prefer R45 to “Queenie,” so perhaps it’s for the best that they didn’t look to hard to find her name.
Wow, she made it to be 15 years old! That’s not typical.
They bought her at the second auction they attended, when they were first starting their breeding program, so you know she was selected for her good genetics. She ended up being one of the first cows bred on Wild Type Ranch, too. And she didn’t let them down. She threw mostly bull calves, though no one can remember whether the one that slipped the fence and got killed by coyotes (or something) was a bull or a heifer.
Sara and I gave her some extra loving last night.
Sarah sent me these calves that she can remember, most of which went on to become bulls used for breeding:
Hobart (2010)
Pyrmont (2011)
Neptune (2013)
Zen (2015)
Dooku (2016)
Randy (2017)
Hobart and Pyrmont were used to develop the Wild Type brand’s features, which are to be very tender grass-fed beef. After they fathered a bunch of heifers, they were sold to other grass-fed beef operations, so they got to spread those good R45 genes around. (You don’t want bulls breeding to their daughters too much; inbreeding is bad.)
All of R45’s boys were beautiful fellows. I especially liked Randy, because I got to name him. He was very interested in the duties of a bull from when he was a tiny calf, hence, Randy. He’s still off siring attractive Angus beef.
Here’s where I imagine she ends up, misty, cattle-filled, endless green pasture.
Now, Queen R45 (I had actually called her the Queen of the herd before I saw her papers!) was a big cow. Her sons and grandsons tended to be compact, but she was built like a 1950s Buick, large, deep, and wide. Very wide. She always looked pregnant.
R45 and her friends. Note her size. Photo by Sara Faivre.
Sara tells a story of one time, when she was pregnant, R45 laid down in the bank of one of the ponds (tanks) at the front of the pasture. The bank was so steep, and she was so large that she couldn’t right herself, and vultures started going after her. Luckily Sara and Ralph got her hoisted back up before she lost an eye! She went on to continue to produce calves for years.
She had nose freckles.
R45’s size almost got her sent to the processing plant way before her time. One year it took her a while to breed, and they thought she was done. Sara checked her to see if she was with calf, but thought her big ole cervix was an un-pregnant uterus. She was scheduled for harvest, but a couple of weeks before that was due, out popped a healthy calf. Whew! I remember being all sad at that time, because I always liked her.
She had very hairy ears, and a lot of notches, from adventures. Photo by Heather Westmoreland.
For the last couple of years, R45 hasn’t been able to bear calves, but they kept her in the herd to honor her years of devoted service. She remained the leader of the herd, and was still seen caring for calves and calming down the younger cows.
For the past few months, though, R45 has been showing signs of her age, and is, as they say in cattle talk, “losing condition.” It’s a sign that she’s having trouble digesting food, sort of like how our old horse, Pardner, did. He ended up so skinny. Rather than let R45 deteriorate, Ralph and Sara decided it would be kinder to harvest her while she’s still feeling pretty good and not suffering.
Thank you for all you did for Wild Type ranch, and for all the entertainment your cute calves gave me. Photo by Heather Westmoreland.
That’s called good stewardship of your livestock, and I appreciate it, even if I’m sad to see the old girl go. She got to do lots more than the average cow, and lived 14 years in our combined ranches’ beautiful pastures, with good health care and good cow friends.
And Sara wanted me to point out that R45’s harvest will be donated to local food banks to feed the hungry. She continues to serve a higher purpose. I salute you, French Queen R45. Graze in peace.
The Hermits' Rest 