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.
I was a bit worried about how the chickens were going to do in all this rain, as I mentioned earlier, so I made a shelter inside the pullet house for the two who like to hide and covered the cage in there.
Star and Henley check out my sad little shelter. Henley likes to hide in enclosed areas, but her cardboard box died in the rain. The hens can still roost on top, but they can have more shelter if they want it. Meanwhile, Sapphire is relieved to have some dry food.
I really was wondering if they’d drown or something, especially with the way the skies looked all day.
Looking to the east.
However, every time I look outside, I see them roaming all over the place, delighting in all the new bugs the rain has served up. Usually the black hens stay close to the henhouse, but today they were all way out in the field. Still, when I called, they hauled butt to see me.
This is later, after I came back with more food. They come quickly!
So, none of the wet hens seem mad at all. The roosters are happy, too! Like Chris said, they’re just chickens. But, if I want to pamper them, I can, right (if you count piling tin roof materials up as pampering)?
It’s too muddy in the back of the pen, so I gave them fresh food at the front.
It was also raining like crazy when I went to the horses, so they get grass for dinner again. At least the calves are fine. They have a nice shelter. Too bad not everyone likes their accommodations.
“I still want to be in the pullet house, dammit.” Poor Patty.
Have you ever heard someone say, “It never rains at my house?” My grandmother would say that. She lived a couple of miles from us when I was a kid, and it would always rain for us and not for her. Well, that is exactly what happened to the Hermits’ Rest Ranch in August.
It rained a few times in Cameron, maybe not a lot, but enough to water the trees a bit. Seven miles down the road, at the ranch, we watched as storms would endlessly form and dissipate around us. I’d be able to see and smell rain, but it would miss, or we’d get a few drops. Lee was excited the day we got .02″ – which barely wet the ground. It’s like we had a micro-drought, just around the Walker’s Creek community.
The rose bushes are getting watered.
My evergreen tree had started to die off, but we only had one set of hoses, which go to the new tree and the chickens. I was going to buy a new one after work today, so I could save it. All the cedar elm trees were turning brown and losing their leaves, not in a lovely fall show, but in a “we need water” display. The oaks still look okay. (I would have a picture, but the rain started in earnest right when I was driving by the best place to show this.)
But, hey, it’s September now. As we always say in this area, “Wait until September, and it will rain again.” And it has! Of course, Cameron seems to have more than we had at the ranch when I left an hour ago, but the radar shows it’s raining at home, too.
This was a half hour ago. College St. is now completely under water. Note how nice our grass doesn’t look.
Speaking of rain in Cameron. When it starts to rain sideways, the flashing on the chimney at the Pope Residence does not block the water. I arrived to the office just as a wind came up, and I heard the festive sounds of running water, heading straight to an electrical outlet. I quickly unplugged the fireplace and found the only bucket Chris hadn’t taken home when he cleaned up.
That looks safe, doesn’t it?
I’m glad it hadn’t been doing that all night! The wind has died down, and it looks like I won’t be hearing dripping all through my half day of intensive meetings today.
Honestly, though, I always hate the summer drought period, and for our micro-climate, this year was the worst since the Big Drought in 2011-12. I will not miss the giant cracks in the earth and the extremely crunchy grass. Apache will be happy to have at least a little green grass again (hopefully not enough to make him sick).
Lee just filled me in. Five inches of rain so far. As usual, we have gone directly from drought to flood!
This means the pond is filling up!
Happy September to all! And isn’t weather interesting?
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.
Trixie the farrier came last evening to check on Apache and Spice’s feet. She’s coming more often while the issues get better.
Lucky Fiona didn’t get trimmed and just got to eat as the sun set.
When she was working on Apache, she said she’d never seen laminitis growing out like he is, but it seems to be working. Then she tried to scrape his hoof and it was so hard she couldn’t.
So far, I’m enjoying my trim.
So, she suggested he go stand in water while she worked on Spice, to soften him up. It hadn’t rained yet this month, so all their hooves are hard!
We over-filled the water bucket, which made Big Red happy. A big muddy area ensued. It was a horse spa!
High quality mud.
Sadly, Apache wasn’t as happy with the spa treatment as we’d hoped, so I tied him up to where he couldn’t escape it. Much stomping ensued.
I’m gonna cling to this little dry area.
Sara pointed out this morning that perhaps he wasn’t happy, because he knew the mud was mostly a mixture of his, Fiona’s, and random cows’ poop.
Fine. I’ll stand here.
Trixie coped with the stinky mud fine, once we let him out. he hadn’t softened up much though. If it doesn’t rain a bunch before her next visit, we will soak all the horses for a few days. Somehow. Maybe it will rain.
My conclusion is that Apache would be more interested in massage, grooming, and food for his next spa day.
Yep, Chris didn’t get to go look at farm equipment yesterday, so he did the next best thing and headed over to the Sale Barn. There were more inexpensive young cows to be had!
Where are we? What happened? Where’s Mama?
He saw lots of good ones, but stayed within his budget and returned with two new friends for Rip.
One is pretty big and muscular. It makes you wonder what the rest of his herd looks like if he’s a reject. He’s older than Rip and the other one, so we wonder if he’ll take milk from a bottle.
I’m big and pretty.
The other one is small and skinny, like Rip, and a very dark brown. When he laid down, he looked just like a turd, so I’m calling him Poop Nugget. I’ll let Kathleen name the other one, because I know there are more characters in that television show. She may well rename Nugget. I don’t have naming rights to their calves!
I’m a fuzzy little nugget.
I’m sure Rip will be happier with friends, and also when he gets over his mild pneumonia. He’s on antibiotics. He doesn’t like shots. Who does? Just ask Vlassic!
Those other guys don’t know what they’re missing. Mmm. Milk.
Speaking of dogs, Vlassic and Gracie seemed to think the calves were invaders, and kept chasing them. They ignore Rip. They also ignore the birds, who wander around with no worries.
We don’t like these strange calves.
Chris and Kathleen tried their best to get the new babies to drink from a bottle, but they weren’t interested yet. Maybe they’ll be hungry and less confused today.
Rip says he will drink it if Nugget won’t.
There was lots of mooing last night. Let’s hope they settle in and grow big and strong. They have an expanded pen to roam in and lots of cattle cubes. Our ranch family will do our best to give them good lives.
Once again, I was in meetings all day, 8:30-7:30. It won’t be that way too much longer, but I have a tired brain. Meetings meant I couldn’t be there for the annual shot day for the dog pack, where Dr. Amy drives her mobile office up to the ranch and get it all done with little stress.
There were lots of surprises, according to Lee. I wish I’d been there to see the dogs’ true personalities shine through. Gracie apparently took everything like a champ. Good girl!
I’m good! I just have a little tartar.
No surprise here, but Carlton was in perfect health. He was also well behaved. That’s my boy.
I’m all inoculated.
Harvey was not our big brave boy. He cried and shook. But, he was well behaved and let them take care of him. Surprise! And he was not called out for being overweight! Double surprise!
I’m a big softy. But I’m not too big and soft.
Penney was not having anything to do with all those strange veterinary people. Then she noticed the other dogs were getting what she wants more than anything in the world: attention. Lee said she figured that out and ran over to get in between the techs and the other dogs. She is truly an Attention Hound.
I just want petting, even if I have to get shots.
And then there is Vlassic, the nicest dog in the world, right? When they drew blood, it hurt. He yelped and tried his damnedest to get away. He even snapped his teeth at a tech (a thing he does even when not afraid). So, he had to get tranquilizer. That let them also trim his nails, which will sure make Anita happy.
Butterfly break. I have no Vlassic photo, because he’s zonked out at Jim’s RV.
There’s one dog left, big Alfred. The plan was always to anesthetize him. He had to get his dewclaws trimmed again, because they were almost grown back into his leg.
That’s better!
While he was out, Lee asked them to look at a spot he’s had on his side for a while. It looked to us like he had a burr in his fur infect his skin. Imagine Lee’s surprise when they shaved the area and it revealed what actually happened.
Oh no. Poor Alfred.
He’d been bitten by a very large snake. They guess it was a couple of weeks ago. We never noticed a change in his behavior, other than a bit of lethargy a while back. And if it was swollen, we couldn’t tell for all his hair.
I’m woozy. But gonna make it.
It’s good Alfred is so big. And it’s good he had the rattlesnake vaccine. It gave him some protection. But dang, that poor dog! Out there protecting us and being brave, and never complaining.
In fact, Alfred has been acting happier, more energetic, and more fun that he ever has. His joy at seeing us and playing with us is so endearing. I’m glad he’s okay. I’m glad we are able to keep all these dogs safe and healthy. It’s a commitment.
The Hermits' Rest 