Reach Out and Touch Someone

Before we bought this place in 2008, the previous house had been destroyed by fire.  The owners put a trailer out back to live in while they were rebuilding the house, and of course they had electric and phone lines put in.  The power lines were gone before we moved here, but the phone line has remained an eyesore across the middle of our view for almost seven years.

A couple years ago, a hawk decided that the right-hand pole made a great lookout for checking out our barnyard smorgasbord.  I've made several requests over the past two years for the phone company to remove the poles and lines, but nothing came of it.  So we've continued to live with the hawk and the big black line across our view.
 

Imagine our surprise when the phone company recently turned up to take down the unneeded telephone poles and lines.  It looks like my efforts to "reach out and touch someone" finally paid off!  As a fringe benefit, they left the poles for us to use as fence posts.

Better yet, hey left us with a beautiful, unobstructed view!

I spared a grateful thought for the nice phone company guys as we enjoyed the sunset that evening, a sight that will really reach out and touch someone!

Calf Watch for Siobhan's Second Calf

When Siobhan was pregnant with her first calf last summer, I did several very detailed calf watch posts, here and here, both of which have quite a lot of information on the signs of approaching calving.  Without replicating all that work, I do want to post photos from Siobhan's second calf watch.  As a mature cow, she looks different this time, besides each calving being different.

On April 29, before I left for Houston, I took a photo of Siobhan's udder.  She had dried off nicely, except for the always-larger right rear quarter.  You can see the curve of it low down between the two teats in the front of the photo.  All four teats were nice and "shriveled" and the quarters were soft and flaccid.

April 29 - Siobhan was dried off in three of four quarters.

I got home from Houston and Herb's graduation late on May 10.  I checked Siobhan right away, although I didn't have my camera handy.  This photo was taken on May 13, and it was clear that Siobhan was bagging up.  Calf watch had begun!  Her udder was beginning to fill with milk, and some of her teats were filling, too.

This is what Siobhan looked like from behind on May 13.  Her due date, calculated approximately from unwitnessed pasture breeding, was May 20.

I had never seen a sign of Macree trying to nurse, although when I put her back with Siobhan after Ebony calved, I put a weaning ring back in to discourage her from trying.

Now, with Siobhan bagging up, I was worried that the temptation might be too hard for Macree to resist.  So poor Macree got outfitted with what Kara calls a "Medieval torture device."  This is an old-fashioned weaning ring I bought from E-bay as a novelty.  I figured the old-timers must have known something, and it could only be supplemental insurance against any mischief!

Sweet Macree is very laid back, and she took it quite calmly.  She shows none of her dam's talent for getting out of my contraptions!

May 23 -  I kept a daily watch on Siobhan, of course, but not much changed.  Her due date came and went.  By May 23 she was showing slight springing, when the vulva becomes a bit swollen and floppy as it softens to prepare for birth.

Here is the right side of Siobhan's udder on May 23.  It's filling, but not "there" yet.

Here's the left side of her udder on May 23.  You can see that the right rear quarter is larger than the left rear.

Here's a full-length shot of Siobhan on May 23.  I planned to watch her closely and take her anti-self-sucking harness off when it looked like she was closer to going into labor.

 Here's a rear shot, also from May 23.  As I look at it now in retrospect (compared to the one above), it looks as if Siobhan had begun to go a bit slab-sided.  That's when the calf drops and the high round swelling of the belly drops down lower.

In fact, when some cows go slab-sided they don't even look pregnant any more.  That's because the calf has dropped down low to move into the birth canal.

Watching for signs like these is very subjective, and it's hard to miss slight changes.  That's why I take lots of photos, but it doesn't always help . . .

Here's the final photo from May 23, showing the wrinkles around the vulva and the filling udder.

May 26 -  Monday, May 26 was Memorial Day.  We were scheduled to go to a picnic about 10 minutes from home.  Siobhan spent almost all day up in the shade shack with Macree by her side.  She would venture out and graze, then go back into the shade.  You can see even from this distance that Siobhan had bagged up considerably and that her teats were swollen and sticking straight out, compared to the earlier photos when they were wrinkly and droopy.

Here's a close-up from May 26.  Siobhan understandably didn't want me sticking my head in any closer, and I didn't want to disturb her and make her leave her refuge from the heat.

I checked her frequently during the day, but there was no sign of  a mucus string hanging from the vulva, another important indicator of imminent calving (one that Siobhan didn't exhibit last time).

Besides Siobhan spending much of the day in the shade shack, there was one other thing I observed.  Macree repeatedly tried to mount Siobhan during the day.  This wasn't extremely unusual behavior for her when she was in heat, but it made me wonder . . .

I checked Siobhan before we left for the picnic, and we only stayed for a couple of hours.  I checked her again when we got home, and there was no change.  So we settled down to re-watch an episode of "Downton Abbey"  about 8:00 p.m.  Right before we started the second episode at 9:00, I decided to go check Siobhan again.  As courtly as Matthew Crawley, Herb offered to go in my place.  He returned to say that Siobhan was grazing peacefully so we settled down again.  About 10:00, Herb got ready to take Misty out to the barnyard for the night, and I said I wanted to go along in the Doodad and use the headlights to check on Siobhan.  I planned to check her during the night, too.

To our complete and total surprise, Siobhan had a little red calf at her side!  We hurried back in for the camera and some molasses water, and while we were gone Siobhan moved the calf over beside the shade shack.  It was still quite wet and must have just been born.  A quick feel under its tail told me it was a bull calf--oure first one born on Zephyr Hill Farm!

Siobhan went into the shade shack and seemed to want her baby in there with her, mooing gentle little mama moos until we carried him in for her.  She then went to work, licking him dry. The mama cow licking amniotic fluid off her calf is beneficial in many ways:  It stimulates the calf and helps to dry it; it may actually increase the number of antibodies the calf absorbs from the colostrum; and it is believed to have an analgesic effect on the cow.  It is also important in establishing the maternal bond.

Once Siobhan had her calf well-licked, she was ready to drink the 5 gallon bucket of warm molasses water I had brought her.  This is a trick I learned from Keeping a Family Cow:  Molasses is loaded with vitamins and minerals that cows need, especially after calving. It also gives them energy and carbs to head off ketosis. At first I thought the molasses was just for an energy boost after laboring, but it's much much more than that. 



By the time Siobhan had finished her molasses water, it was 10:35 p.m.  Other than following her over to the shade shack, the calf had not gotten up, nor had it nursed, to our knowledge.  It's really essential for the calf to get some colostrum within two hours of birth, and I knew that if this one didn't get up and start nursing, I wouldn't be able to go to sleep.  So I got hold of little Mr. Lazy Bones and got him on his feet (almost 11 p.m.)  We gave him 15 or so minutes, but although he would wander over in the general direction, Siobhan was too restless for him to get hold and start nursing.
 

Finally I decided that some help was in order.  Siobhan's udder was extremely full and almost certainly very tender, and she wasn't standing still enough for the little guy to latch on.

So we put a lead on her and tied her to a stout fence post.  Then Herb carried the calf over, and I helped him find a teat.  He found one quickly and started to nurse, but Siobhan kept shifting forward and backward from the discomfort.  We petted and soothed her and did our best to calm her and keep her still.  The calf did pretty well figuring out where she had moved the milk bar to and getting back on, so we let him go.

By 11:30 he'd had a good feed and lain back down.  We let Siobhan go, and she went right back to licking him.  There was one last task before we could head for bed--put Misty in the pasture with the new baby.  We'd already heard coyotes in the distance (evil beasts!) so we were thankful to know that Misty would protect the calf.  We were finally able to head for bed and a good night's sleep with both mama Siobhan and Misty on the job taking care of the calf.  What a memorable Memorial Day!

As I was writing this post, I realized that I was surprised by the calf's arrival because I had forgotten to check for one key sign of calving.  Look back at one of the last photos I took of Siobhan on Memorial Day.  If you look at the red oval in the photo above, you will notice a shadowy hollow below the tail head.  This is the hook-to-pin area where the pelvic ligaments can be felt.  One of the ultimate pre-calving signs is when those ligaments loosen, often described as "the pins going."  At that point you can guess that the cow is going to calve within twelve hours.  I had gotten fixated on looking for mucus--because Ebony had a big blob of mucus before she calved and I missed that clue.  Even though Siobhan didn't exhibit any mucus at all before her first calving, I was busy looking for it and I forgot to check her pins!  And so I was 0 for 2 predicting my cows' calving this year!

It just goes to show, we only think we're in charge of our animals.  God, the cow and the calf are the ones who are really in charge!  We're just along for the ride!

Bye Bye, Birdie: A Tragic Turkey Tale

Back toward the end of September, I did a post about our turkeys ignoring the call of the wild turkeys.

They may not have been very adventurous back then, but earlier this month they got really adventurous--and came to call in the back yard.

So we clipped their wings, Herb put up chicken wire to block the handy cross rail they were landing on, and we put them back in the pasture where they belonged.  Or so we thought . . .

Then last week our contractor, who was putting a railing on the back porch, called me while I was driving home and said, "I'm being attacked by a turkey!"  It turned out he was kidding--about the "attack" part.  But there really was a turkey in the back yard hoping for a handout from his lunch!  I got home, caught the turkey and put him back where he belonged.  And that was that, for a while.

Then just this Monday, the 14th, Herb came in and told me that one of the turkeys was gone.  We concluded that it had gotten over the fence again, this time to join its wild fellows.  We decided we needed to slaughter the other turkey quickly, although it seemed to have settled in with just the sheep for company.  We set today as the sad day.  I knew we would really miss our turkey's cheerful "prrrrit! prrrrit!" but with half our Thanksgiving dinner running wild, we intended to make sure of the half that was left.

Then yesterday morning Herb came into the house with some tragic news.  Turkey Lurkey, as I had christened the "one that didn't get away," had drowned itself in the stock tank.  We simply could not figure out why--with the kiddie pool/duck pond right there full of water--our poor, silly bird had tried to drink out of the tank.  Even though we had intended to dispatch him within 24 hours, it made me sick to think of him dying that way.

Then yesterday afternoon as I was moving cattle, something caught my eye in the Home Pasture.  A closer look led me to the obvious conclusion that "the one that got away" hadn't gotten away at all.  In fact, it had met a fate worse than mere death--it had been killed by a predator, most likely a coyote.  The widespread clumps of feathers with blood here and there indicated that the poor turkey had fought and struggled before succumbing; the absence of bones indicated that it had been carried away.  Suddenly the stock tank drowning made more sense:  maybe the other turkey jumped up on the water tank to escape a return of the predator.

And where was Misty when all this happened?  In the barnyard with the ducks, guarding the chicken coop.  She can't be in two places at the same time, poor girl--and I must confess to being rather thankful that she didn't have to fight off whatever took the turkey.  Her presence might have discouraged the predator from attacking--or she might have been injured fighting it off.

We've learned several things from this tragic tale.  We like turkeys, and we'd like to try again.  But next time we'll follow advice we just got from our friends the Newswangers, who raise a whole flock of turkeys along with their Dexters:  We'll use electrified orange netting.  Predators can't climb it to get in (like they can with a fence), and turkeys can't climb it to get out.

This was a costly lesson for us since I now have to order an expensive organic turkey.  It also cost our poor turkeys because they died lingeringly and in fear, as opposed to quickly and mercifully.  Life on a farm isn't always stunning sunsets and cute calves.  Sometimes it's ugly and cruel, and we have to learn to take the bad with the good.

An Unwelcome Guest

The previous post recounted a lovely day with special guests.  This post is about a much less welcome guest.  We've been hearing him in the vicinity, but he came really too close for comfort today:

I first saw him sitting on the grass between the tree and the house, but when I went onto the porch to get a closer look, he flew up in the tree.

I wasn't able to catch them with my camera, but two very angry little birds (wrens, maybe?) were fluttering around telling him off.

I really need to get after the local telephone company to remove the large unneeded wire that runs across our pasture because we do not want this guy to have a place to sit and watch our chickens.  A few years ago a hawk grabbed one of our meat chickens in the exact spot I found this one today.  I chased it away, and the chicken survived, but that didn't endear hawks to me!  Take your eerie "scree! scree!" somewhere else, buddy, and leave our birds in peace!  

Build a Cheap Sheep Shack

Say THAT five times, fast!

The old Gypsy chicken coop would have made a nice sheep shack if it didn't have a wire bottom that sharp sheep hooves would poke through.

It does, however, make a handy sheep scratching post!

It's also a cheerful place to bask in the sun while setting on a clutch of duck eggs.  The sun, however, has been rather scarce around here with almost 14" of rain in the first two months of this year.  Who wants to walk around wearing a water-logged wool coat when it's cold and rainy?  Not I and not ewe--and wethers don't like that kind of weather, either!

So Herb took an hour out of studying and threw together a cheap sheep shack so our wethers could be happy whatever the weather.

He used four pallets, some hay twine and a tarp.

Three pallets make an open-sided shack with a fourth pallet for the roof.  It isn't pretty, but it works!  About the time Herb finished the shack it started to rain, and before he got inside the house, the sheep were inside theirs.

I waited for a sunny day to take these photos, profiting from the nice weather to patch a gap in the Misty-proofing of the Home Pasture gate.  We felt a bit like the government, having problems with Misty-Leaks instead of Wiki-Leaks.  Misty had been "leaking" out of the pasture at night, necessitating a second trip outside to shut her in the Misty-proof barnyard.
 

Obaama says "Thank you for keeping us safe!"

Herb finally found the source of the leaks:  She had shoved my roll of chicken wire aside so she could crawl under the lower gate.  But Herb fixed the "leak" just in time.

We arrived home from babysitting Charis and Kol last night to find a strange, HUGE dog starting up the driveway toward the barn and pasture.  Our arrival scared it away even before Misty was aware of it.  When we let Hero and Zephyr out all three dogs chased the stranger away and made it clear he was unwelcome.

Thankfully, everyone was fine.  We were glad we could put Misty in with her charges and know she would keep them safe.  As far as the animals in the barnyard, between Brandy and Sara, I pity any stupid dog that would try to get in there!

Little Red Riding Hood

Herb is holding down the fort at home while I'm visiting family in the Dallas area.  This morning my niece bundled their shivering chihuahua up in my sister's red fleece cape and called her "Little Red Riding Hood."  Since I've been listening to oldies on my rental car's Sirius, that instantly called to mind this oldie.  Neither Justin nor Victoria had ever heard of it, so I indulged them.  And just so no one visiting Zephyr Hill Farm feels left out--and knowing that Misty has things well in hand there in case this should bring the farm to the Big Bad Wolf's attention--here it is for everyone to enjoy:
 
Little Red Riding Hood by Sam and the Pharaohs.

Tragedy in the Barnyard

When I went to the hydrant next to the barn to get water for the chickens this morning, this is the horrible sight that met my eyes.  One of our beautiful Muscovy hens lying mangled and bloody in the barnyard--and three others missing.  I could hardly bear to go into the barnyard.

I felt even more heartsick when I found feathers all over the open chicken tractor.  We had used it to catch the ducks when we were going to butcher several drakes, but they don't like to sleep in it at night, preferring to "sleep out under the stars" in the middle of the barnyard.  I feel responsible for not forcing them in it every night and for leaving it open so that, apparently, some of them DID go to sleep in it where they became (and I say this with NO humor whatsoever!) quite horribly, literally, sitting ducks.

There must have been a ghastly scene of carnage around the barn last night because I found feathers not only in a trail from the chicken tractor to the poor dead hen, but also outside the barnyard by the fence where we have sometimes captured an errant duck to return it to the barnyard.

 There were more feathers in the back of the barn  and outside near some gaps at the bottom of the boards where apparently the bloodthirsty predator (probably a raccoon) pulled three of the ducks out and carried them off without a trace other than stray fluffs of down.  Hero tracked the scent along the back of the barn . . .

. . . so I took him into the barnyard, hoping he would learn this hateful beast's scent and be ready to hunt it if he ever finds it.  (I think it is probably also the animal that is responsible for Sparrow, my smallest laying hen, not returning home earlier this week.)  Hero followed the scent from the duck along the trail of feathers back to the chicken tractor and then to different places around the barnyard where I could see no evidence of its presence, but where Hero could obviously trace its deadly path of destruction.

Here is our poor remaining hen--the only remaining hope for a brood of little Muscovies eating flies all over the barnyard.  She is looking very forlorn right now; I think she misses her girlfriends.  And perhaps she is as crushed as I am that the five big drakes were apparently incapable of protecting their mates.  If a rooster would throw himself in front of a pursuing dog to save one of his hens, couldn't they--with their wide flapping wings and talon-like claws--have managed to save more than one little hen?

But most of all I am heartsick that my beautiful girls were terrified, tortured and slain.  Death and Destruction have invaded our peaceful barnyard.