Scroungeman

Deja Vu.....

2012-01-08T12:11:00.004-06:00

During August of 2010, a friend gave me this 1937 Farmall F-20. It was nothing but the frame, gas tank, and a "pile of parts". My wife didn't think much of it when she saw it being dragged off the trailer, and even less while it was sitting outside in the yard - in full view from her office....

Well, after several long hours cleaning, repairing, priming and some paint, the old girl actually RUNS! I still have some work to do, but it is a good feeling to actually hear the thing run. It got too cold to paint, so that will need to wait for spring.

I've also spent some time on other tractors, but this one is my favorite.....

Or at least it is my favorite NOW.

Since my birthday is in a couple weeks (January 22nd in case anyone wants to send gifts....), the same friend gave me another tractor. He ran across one that had more original things on it, had a better motor, and a few other things, so he asked me if I wanted it.

It took me a few nano-seconds, but I told him "If I GOTTA...." (Right).

So, he brought it over the other day, and unloaded it with his Skidsteer.

Deb was summarily impressed with the condition of THIS tractor, too - although, she's adapting rather well to seeing old iron being dragged in. She actually LIKES this tractor - it's a 1928 McCormick-Deering 10-20 - one of the style she has deemed "cute".

I'm not sure the designers back in the teens and 20's ever thought to put "cute" into their machines, but I guess it happened anyway.

There is a story that, when John Deere redesigned their line of tractors in the 1930's from "unstyled" to "styled" they realized that a farmer's wife had more input into what tractor he bought, then most of them would admit. Hence, the better LOOKING the tractor, the better it sold.

International Harvester also found out the same thing when they changed from grey paint to red paint - red just sells better.

This particular tractor has a LONG way to go before it lives again, but at least it is a start:

It's like "Deja vu all over again...."

I get a frame and a "Pile 'O Parts"

Now, I just gotta figure out what I need, clean some parts, dream a little (lot), and gradually get it back on it's "feet".

I might even convince Deb to drive this one.....

Gideon's Cat

2011-12-21T20:24:00.004-06:00

I've noticed this tom cat we have doing this several times over the past few months. Every time I take out some milk for them, he's opposed to getting his whiskers wet, and decides to "scoop" up the milk, and lick it from his paw.

I've also noticed that he's training the little yellow kitten right next to him in the video....

It' reminded us of how God chose Gideon's Army to fight the Midianites in the Bible (Judges), by having them go to the brook and take a drink of water - those who scooped it up with their hands were chosen (300 of them), those who lapped it up with their mouths, were sent home.

I have been trying to get a video of this cat for over a month now, but he keeps avoiding the camera - especially if I started to talk (that's why there is no "narration" to the video...).

This time, though, I kept silent, and he held up his end of the bargain, and started dipping.

I just hope I'm not in store for another 299 crazy cats for a furrball "army" -

I have enough goofball critters around here as it is....

Reached A "Sticking" Point....

2011-12-16T07:57:00.007-06:00

Well, as you know, I got the old Farmall "C" to fire over (FINALLY) So there was tinkering fun to do this past week. One of the first things I did was to evict Mr. Jungle Mouse from the torque tube of the tractor.

He had to be some sort of acrobat - this hole is on the underside of a slick, round tube, and is about 30" in the air (depending on how much air is in the tires....).
I can envision a furry little creature in a loin cloth, swinging on a piece of baling twine, yelling "AHHHHAAAAAA", as he swings from the brake pedals to his "tree" house.

One small misstep, and he'd plummet the equivalent of about 30 stories (in mouse measurements), only to dust himself off, climb back on, and try again.

I'd imagine that his "Jane" probably stayed home all day to tend to the little "Cheetahs"......

Going over the edge from the top would have pretty exciting for him. It would have been a fun, head first slide of about 12" straight down over a cliff, then a 6" jump through the air back UP to the inside of the tube.

At any rate - they've been evicted now. I dug in there with "Chinese Fingers", a screwdriver, and a wire with a hook on one end. I pulled enough "bedding" out of there to STUFF a large coffee can - not to mention all of the dirt, dried grease, and other crud. No WONDER the tires were flat.....

Then came the big day - the first "test drive" of the "C". I dreamed about it the night before (when I wasn't laying awake, waiting for daylight so I could go DO it....). I did chores, a few other things around the house, then headed out to see what I could see.

I climbed into the seat, pushed the clutch pedal down, Put the transmission is 1st gear, and pulled the starter rod (I left the switch OFF, just in case)....and the tractor started to roll forward with the clutch depressed.

Speaking of depressed - it was not a GOOD feeling when I realized the clutch was stuck. It wasn't unexpected, but depressing, none the less. The problem is - on these tractors, to do any clutch work, except minor adjustments, the tractor usually has to be "split".

On this size machine, that's not ALL that hard, but I sure as heck didn't want to do it. There MUST be another way.

I called a friend, and asked what he'd do.

He promptly told me to "run into a tree". Well, that's not too bad of advice - gently bumping a tree CAN dislodge a stuck clutch - BUT - the tractor was still in the barn, and hadn't had it's "maiden voyage" yet. I for SURE didn't want to run it into the wall or the barn.

His next suggestion was to :

Jack one rear tire off the ground
Block the clutch pedal down
Put the transmission in 4th gear
"Bump" the tire over by hand

Well, I was skeptical, and SOMETHING didn't seem quite right, but I got the tractor jack out, and proceeded to try it - I was game to try pretty much anything before splitting the tractor...

It was pretty easy to turn (bump) the tire over, and I kept watching the fan blade turn as I did it. All I was doing was spinning a tire and having the cats laugh at me. Other than that, nothing.

I was running out of options, when a little light bulb came on over my head (I turned on the trouble light hanging from the ceiling....), and it dawned on me - this was just turning the motor, what it NEEDED was something to "break torque".

I climbed back on the seat (with the rear tire still off the ground), put the transmission in 1st gear, held the clutch pedal down, and pulled the starter rod (switch was still off). The airborne wheel started to turn slowly....

As the wheel turned (sounds like a soap opera..), I stomped down on the brakes as hard as I could 4-5 times. All of a sudden, the wheel STOPPED turning. At that point I KNEW the clutch was free. My depression had just turned to elation.

Since it was too late in the day for a test drive, so I settled for a "forward and back" maneuver 3-4 times inside the barn.

It was the first time in 30+ years the tractor had moved under it's own power!

I was happy, the tractor was happy, the cats had lost interest -

And I didn't feel ONE BIT of remorse at evicting Tarzan....

Daisy Want's A Kiss....

2011-12-13T19:57:00.002-06:00

Any takers?

Air, Fire, Gas....

2011-12-07T17:14:00.004-06:00

A few months back - if you recall - I happened upon a 1949 International Harvester "C" in a barn nearby. I talked with the owner for 2-3 years before he finally decided to let it go. It was COVERED in - for lack of a better, usable, term - "Pigeon Paint".

A friend of mine hauled it home for me, and I proceeded to scrape and even SAND the years (and many coats) of the thickly applied coating left behind by the birds. It was not a "fun" task....

After a few weeks, I had it in fairly good condition - at least it was good enough to work on without coming up with Pigeon Paint on me or my clothes - so I set about trying to get the thing running.

As everyone knows, the things needed for a motor to start are:

Air
Fuel
Compression
Spark and
Timing

The first thing I did was take off the carburettor and clean it out. Nothing too in depth there - it was pretty clean for sitting 30+ years. Next came the distributor. I pulled the condenser, filed the points, and cleaned everything up. Even the plugs came out for cleaning and inspection.

Online, I found an electrical schematic that was close to what I needed, and replaced every wire on the tractor (ok, there are only 5 or 6....), complete with soldered ends.

Then the day arrived - the first attempt at bringing the beast back to life after all those years being abused by birds. I hooked up the battery, pulled the switch, hit the starter and......

RRRRRRR.......RRRRRRR.......RRRRRRR......

A whole lot of spinning, but no STARTING, no coughing, no sputtering, no nothin'.
Nothing except a lot of aggravation.

A friend came over, and we made sure the timing was right, the points were right, the plugs were right, and ran through everything 3-4 times. Still, the tractor was playing it's game with us - and WINNING. We couldn't get the thing to fire of for nothing.

So, over the past week or two, I've been tinkering with it an hour or two a day, in between everything else. I've gone over EVERYTHING a couple dozen times, to no avail. It all came down to this afternoon.....

I put a rebuild kit in the carb, tried another set of points, different plugs, and a whole lot of words to make a sailor blush. All did NOTHING toward getting the thing to "pop".

I even resorted to threatening to paint the thing green and setting it out for "yard art" (it shivered a bit at the green paint, but remained stubborn....). I decided to just pack it in for the day - even though it was only 2:30 - and go inside and check a few things on the computer, and text a friend.

It was somewhere around this point that I recalled an old skit that Cheech & Chong did in the 1970's - one about trying to start a car.

Cheech is grinding the starter saying "Come on baby, come on baby....", and Chong asks him if he has any gas. "We can't be outta gas - I put 59¢ worth in two days ago"!

Then the "great epiphany" happened.....

"Did you CHECK THE AIR IN THE TIRES"?

Well, that there was about the only thing left I DIDN'T check! I texted my friend that I was going to go out and air up the rear tires, and see if it made any difference. He probably thought I was nuts, but that's a whole nuther story....

The floor in my barn has never been smoothed out, so it has a nice "bump" about half way in from the front door. Naturally, the fully inflated front tires were sitting dead center on top of this bump - and the two rear tires were flatter than a super model.

So, I get out the air compressor, plug it in, and proceed to air up the tires. Once they were full, the tractor set CONSIDERABLY less "nose up".

The main thing was - the fuel line actually had a DROP in it, instead of forcing the fuel to "climb" to get to the carb (I suppose, if I could afford to fill the tank, it would feed better, too).

Well, I said a quick little prayer, laughed a little to myself, and pulled the stater rod.......

And she fired up after a couple spins. She didn't run LONG, but she RAN! I still need to "tweak" things, but at least I know she does run!

I guess the moral of this story is - don't let anyone tell you that checking the air in the tires won't help you start whatever it is you are trying to start!

It might not be the "air" you'd think of when you list what it takes to start an engine, but it was worth the time it took to check on it this time!

Good luck, and go check your tires.......

Hooves, Paws, Teeth, Tractors and Cuds....

2011-11-23T06:50:00.004-06:00

I had some help this past week - some actually "helpful", and others annoying, but all of it unsolicited.

The "annoying" part came from the cats and cows. The cats didn't really join in, they just sat back and told us how to do things, then zipped across in front of us a "opportunistic" times when we least expected it. They also rearranged parts on the workbench.

I wish they'd CLEAN it while they were there, instead of playing with stuff....

Mostly, they holler about wanting fed more than twice a week......

The NERVE of some people.

Then, the cows got into the act. They all stand outside of the barn door, waiting (impatiently) to get in to be fed. If I am taking too long (in their minds...), they start knocking at the door.

"Knock, knock...."

"Who's there"?

"The COW....".

"The cow, WHO..."?

"Don't mess with me - I weigh 900 pounds, I'm hungry, and I can squish you like a grape".

If I am too slow at getting the door open, the offending cow (take your pick, they ALL have it figured out) bounces the door, causing the chain and hook to dislodge, and allowing the pointy faced cow to stick her nose in, open the door, and waltze right in.

I snookered them this week, though - I installed a different door latch - one that holds the door tight against the barn.

So, now they knock on the door, pause, knock louder, then LOUDER, then.....

Grumble because they have to wait.

Poor bovine.

I DID actually get some GOOD help from Honey the other day, though. I still can't lift much, so I wheel a bale out to the cows with my "Bale Buggy" cart. I just roll it up to the feeder, cut the twines, and put it in. I've gotten to the point where I can even just roll the bale off the cart, and into the feeder - then cut the twine.

Honey saw me rolling the bale one day, and decided to lend a hand....er...hoof....er CUD. I had one end of the bale, and Honey grabbed the other end. She lifted most of the weight straight up. All I had to do was flip my end over the feeder. When she let go (with a mouthful of hay), the whole thing dropped right into where it belonged.

I wish she'd help every day....

A couple days later, Yani lent a paw - or teeth. There I was, minding my own business, skinning a deer in the barn, when I feel a huge tug on the fur.

She sure was adamant about getting the skin off. I suspect her motivation was me taking too long, and her wanting a good, fresh bone to chew on.

I also had help on my tractor! Last Saturday, I got a phone call about 2:00 PM. It was a friend who said he was in town, and wondered if I needed help on anything, he said he'd be going right by, so it was no problem to stop.

We went to the barn, and tore into the F-12, and took the transmission completely apart. Right down to "bare bones". I just need to clean the "muck" out of the case, clean all the parts, make some gaskets, then start putting it back together -

if I remember how....

Now I have more parts laying on the bench for the cats to play with....

It's Alive, It's ALIVE!

2011-11-05T11:34:00.004-05:00

Yesterday, a friend wanted me to go along for a "tractor inspection". It WAS going to be a "tractor HAUL", but his brother ended up borrowing his trailer so that was the end of that....

It all worked out in the end, though, because the tractor we went to look at was a BIT over priced for it's condition.

The gentleman had several other tractors, but only a couple that would be worth "delving" into (unless you have LOTS of money....). He ended up making a deal on a pretty large Disc Plow, but that was about it. He'll just have to pick it up when he gets his trailer back....

Of course, on the way home we stopped to look at 3-4 other old tractors we spotted on the way up. It's probably a good thing we didn't have a trailer.

When we got home, there was about 2 hours to kill before supper, so Kirk ended up getting voluteered for a couple odd jobs around here - one was fixing the light in Deb's office - she was tired of trying to see in the dark. The other - and more important, I might add - was to finish installing the magneto on my 1937 F-20.

Since it was REAL close to seeing if it would start, we decided to go ahead and try. Of course, by "we", I mean "HE", because I can't even hardly turn the crank, let alone actually CRANK it. When my back gets back together, I'll be able to, though.

We scrounged up about a 1/2 gallon of gas, and dumped it in the tank. It promptly ran out the bottom where a small plug was. We tried several times to seal the thing, but nothing worked. We ended up scrounging some more for a piece of 3/8" gas hose to attach directly to the fuel line.

Now we needed a "funnel" that was small enough to go inside the hose. I THOUGHT about using one from the kitchen, but realized stating the tractor wasn't worth the pain I'd have when Deb found out about using her funnel..... We ended up using a small plastic cup that we could "squeeze" into something we could pour out of.

It was almost an afterthought to get the camera out (I was lucky to have it with me), so the video is kinda dark, but this is the first start of the F-20:

It sure is a FAR cry from last August (2010) whe I started with this, and a pile of parts:

Scaredy Cat....

2011-11-04T21:11:00.007-05:00

On some of these "warmer" mornings, I've been - against my better judgement - heading out to the barn at an ungodly hour of 0500. At that hour - even the cows are too sleepy to eat breakfast.

Besides, feeding - or milking - cows, isn't the reason I've been going out there so early. Nope - not cows - just some "projects" and special tools to build for working on tractors and other things around the farm. Most times, I'll go to bed with a "problem", and DREAM about how to solve it.

I have to get outside and get it done before I wake up enough to forget how to do it....

Well, a few days ago, I remember getting up, going out to the barn and working. After a few minutes, I headed up to the wood shop to get a few things, then went back to the barn to sleepwalk through whatever it was I was working on.

The next day - I managed to keep myself in the house until morning had actually arrived. It wasn't until well afternoon when I made the trip up to my wood shop to glue a few pieces together on a cutting board I was building.

When I first opened the door, I heard something crash across the room. I didn't think too much about it - thinking it was just something falling due to the vibrations of me entering the room and shutting the door.

Until it happened again...

This time it was accompanied by a high pitched "yowl", and some hissing. Not being SURE what it was, I grabbed the nearest thing I could find to use as a weapon - a claw hammer - and moved closer to the action.

Being almost deaf in one ear, it sometimes is hard for me to narrow down where a sound is coming from, but this particular one was a bit easier because it had movement along with it - and that told me it was something underneath a kitchen cabinet in the corner.

Slowly, I got down on the floor - keeping careful watch for the monster under the cabinet, in case it came flying out at me. By now, I had figured it to be a cat, but had no clue as to WHICH cat. All of mine are "friendly" so I had pictured one of a couple strays we had seen around, had somehow managed to get in the shop and was hiding from me.

I edged closer and closer to the spot where the demon lay in wait, until I could catch a glimpse of the furry fiend...

It turned out to be "Tux" - our long-haired "kitten" born here last spring (ok - FULL GROWN kitten...). Once I recognised who it was, I started to call out to her (by NAME, as if THAT mattered...).

The recognition must have gone both ways - once Tux figured out who HER monster was, she decided it was safe to come out. This realization didn't stop her from yowling even more - and LOUDER - she turned it up a notch for my "benefit".

My lovely wife called me on my cell phone about this time, so I got up off the floor, and sat down in a chair. She heard the cat through the phone, and asked me "What is WRONG with that cat?"

Nothing.

She was just scared out of her mind.

We figured that Tux had followed me into the shop when I went up there the morning before - and got locked in when I left. She spent at least 32 hours....ALONE.

The first thing she did when she crawled out from under her "safe house", was to come running across the room, and jumping up onto my lap/chest. She was VERY glad to see me! I got the "full" tratment - face rubs, purring wildly, pawing, and even some of those "sandpaper" licks on the cheek. For the rest of the day - and most of the next - I had a constant companion when I was outside.

I guess it was her way of thanking me for saving her furry little life...

Either that, or she was "tasting" me for future reference....

BOLO.....

2011-11-01T20:02:00.005-05:00

BE ON THE LOOK OUT......

Grey Tiger-striped Male Cat. Approximately 9 months of age. Scared mindless. Last seen heading full speed across the courthouse lawn toward the local grocery store.
Wanted for assault with a sharp object, and willful destruction of clothing.
Considered armed and dangerous......

I had to go to town a couple of days ago, for an appointment. After chores, I got cleaned up, then headed out to the pickup to get things ready to head on in. It was kind of a cool morning, so I went into the barn and grabbed a jacket that I had in there from the day before.

Meanwhile - I had left the door open on the truck....

About half way to town, I heard an odd noise - sort of a soft moaning sound. I HEARD it, but didn't RECOGNISE it - I just figured it was something on the radio, or a normal "road" noise. It just went in one ear, and right on out the other - and didn't even rattle around as it passed through.

The first thing I had to do, was head up to the bank on the town square.

After stopping at the stop sign, I pulled up and parked next to three other vehicles. Not knowing what the next few, long, minutes would bring, I unsuspectingly opened my door..

That's when it all began - my unknown stowaway decided he had had enough "car ride" for one day, and proceeded to make his great escape. Trouble was - I was between him and the open road....

I'll never know if he MEANT to do it, but it seemed like he did a "Fred Flintstone" dance on my chest for about 20 minutes before he managed to get traction, then made a leap towards the windshield, scrambling his brains against the glass with a huge THUD.

After bouncing off the steering wheel, my chest, and the driver's side door, he finally found freedom, and hit the pavement. He stopped for just a second to collect his bearings, then ran straight toward the courthouse, and the grocery store beyond.

The last I saw of him, he was about 100 yards away, and still moving at full speed, with his tail pointing straight up in the air.

Oh well - I figure I just returned the favor.

Most times, it's those "city folks" who turn a cat loose in the country....

Back From The Abyss....

2011-10-28T09:55:00.003-05:00

A couple weeks ago, we took a weekend trip to Deb's parent's house in north central Missouri. We had all KINDS of fun - and even took in a "flea market" type event in Trenton, MO.

It was fun - as usual - to browse the different booths and hunt for deals - even though the Turkey legs were WAY over priced ($6 each), and WAY too small(I commented to the guy as to where he got the "Banty" Turkeys.....).

When we go on a trip like that, we end up taking a lot of stuff - the car is usually full. I keep telling Deb that if she packs very much more, she'll have to ride ON the trunk....

Of course, she has to have her camera equipment, too

She accidentally left her camera at home for one trip this year - one where her niece was graduating from nursing school. It was a HORRIBLE weekend - Deb was shaking from "CSS" (Camera Separation Syndrome).

Ever since then, we've made SURE her gear was in the car. Especially THIS trip. She had to take her niece's "Engagement Photos". It's pretty hard to do without a camera, so she was reminded by everyone to not forget her camera.

I always have my little "point and shoot" with me, so we DID get SOME photos of her graduation, but they just aren't the same as if Deb had taken them.

This last trip was no different - I had my camera there with me. I never used it the whole weekend, but it was THERE, anyway.

Well - we got done over there and headed home. A few days later, I got my camera out, took some photos, made a Youtube video, then noticed the battery was running down.So, I heads on into the house, grab the bag that I took with me to Missouri, and pulled out everything BUT the battery charger.

It was NOWHERE to be found.

We looked in the bedroom (even UNDER the bed in case the dog thought it was a chew toy), in the suitcase, my office, the car, the truck, the BARN, Deb's office, etc, etc. We even emailed her dad so they could look around their house in case we left it there.

Nope - it was GONZO...

So now I had a camera but no way to use it. Deb graciously said I could use her old one - which doesn't work all the time...I was beginning to think she hid the thing so she could get a new camera, and I'd inherit the one she has now. I foiled her evil plan, though - I looked online to see if a charger was even still available for the thing, and actually found one!

We were busy yesterday afternoon, so it didn't get ordered. This morning, Deb was in the process of buying one, when she checked the last place on planet Earth left that we didn't check....

Her purse.

She's been known to carry 40 pounds of brick, in there, along with car parts, white chocolate candy bars (that started out as "dark" chocolate...), the kitchen sink, and there is a rumor going around that she chased a family of 5 out of it over last Thanksgiving - among other things.

Usually, when stuff goes in there, it's never seen again, so I'm DARN lucky to see my charger again.

Oh well - at least I can use my camera again...

BBQ Bovine....

2011-10-13T05:46:00.006-05:00

It started out like most any other day we need to get up before we want to, and be somewhere early. Nothing serious this day, just a 40 mile trip - but we had to be there by 8:30.

Yesterday (12 October) was also our 20th Anniversary.

That meant the cows had to be awakened - and found - about 6:15. Naturally, there was a slight foggy "haze" over parts of the pasture, to make things worse. Not to mention the slight rain we had during the night - and the fact that I left the pickup's driver's side window down....

Normally, I go out to the gate, call the cows by name, and they come sashaying in. Of course, this usually takes place when the sun is up. When it's dark, those cows like to hunker down in the tall grass and hide. They don't like to get up early, either - even IF food is involved.

On days like this, I like to take the pickup out into the pasture in order to use the headlights to find the cows quicker, and get them heading in to breakfast without needing to wander around the pasture with a flashlight.

So, I sat down on the soggy seat, and headed out to find those bovine.

I drove around the pasture TWICE, but nobody came into view. I figured them sneaky creatures zipped past me when I turned out of the gate, so I headed back in to see if my lovely wife had seen them.

Nope.

I took my flashlight, and toured the area behind and beside the barn, looking for brown "lumps" snoozing in the grass.

Nope.

They GOTTA be out in the pasture, so I headed toward the truck to take another tour. Mabel and Snowflake met me at the gate, wondering what all the fuss was about.

I found it odd that Snowflake was with Mabel, and not Daisy....

Well, I sent those two down to the barn so , at least, Mabel could be fed and milked, then headed out for another trip through the pasture. TWO cows had managed to hide there, so, the other three were just being stubborn, and HAD to be out there.

Nope.

Since the day before, I found Honey and KC had gotten through an open gate into the neighbor's pasture (have NO idea who left the gate open....), I figured I'd take a drive through HIS pasture- even though the gate was closed.

Nope.

This was beginning to drive us both nuts (I know - short drive). Those pesky bovine seemed to have vanished into thin air. I've seen a 900 pound cow hide behind 3 blades of grass before, but this was different, they were just GONE.

Nobody had called to tell us our cows were wandering the countryside, or terrorizing the neighborhood, so we figured they were either stolen or.....

In the neighbor's corn field.

So, I hops into my trusty pickup, and soak up a little more water with my jeans, then head out the driveway and down the hill to see if those "BBQ on the Hoof" had been naughty. Thankfully, I didn't spot any brown bodies, nor any damage.

Back to square one.

It was just starting to get a LITTLE light in the east, and we were able to see a little better. I was driving back up the hill from the corn field, when I turned my head to look down the fence line between our property, and the one next door.

THAT'S when I saw them - all huddled around a tree inside the paddock next to our driveway. Those pesky pasture rats had broken out of the pasture, then broken INTO this pen through a gate I had left open because nobody was supposed to be IN there. Thankfully, they decided to be good, and stay on our land. It turned out to be a good thing the gate was open - if it would have been closed, who knows where they might have gone.

"GET YOUR BEEFY BUTTS UP TO THE BARN"!, I yelled out of the pickup window, "IT'S OUR ANNIVERSARY, AND I WANT STEAK FOR SUPPER, SO GET A MOVE ON BEFORE I ASK FOR VOLUNTEERS!"

Nobody even MOVED...

I had to walk all the way out there and poke them before they mosied up the trail. Then I found the reason for the stubborness - the Pear tree we have in the pasture. Daisy would take one step, reach down to grab a windfall, take another step, reach down....repeat, repeat, repeat.

It took some doing, but we finally got them headed in the right direction. I headed out to spot where they broke out of jail, and to close some gates, while Deb started milking.

I was done with the gates, and back to about 50' of the barn when I heard my lovely wife laughing. When I entered the milk room, she told me that "Daisy must have filled up on pears, because she isn't eating her food at ALL"!

After a quick look, I remarked, "It sure looks like she's eaten it to me - there isn't any left..."

OOPS

If you want the cow to eat, you gotta GIVE her the food....

It had taken over an HOUR to find those wayward cows, and cut seriosly into our available time before we had to leave. It ended up that WE missed breakfast.

Those stupid cows made us go hungry - Breakfast Steak looks tastier every day.

The Cat Must DIE!

2011-09-18T16:27:00.004-05:00

I know, I know - I've been telling folks for a LONG time that NOTHING is sacred to a cat - especially those in my barn.

Yesterday was the last straw.

This little gufus decided to pick on the wrong thing - one of my farmall tractor parts.

He was pretty brazen about it, too. I hadn't but BARELY turned my back when I heard him and his "play toy".

There I was, minding my own business, cleaning some small F-12 parts, and then getting them primed up, ready to paint. I usually try to run a piece of baling wire through any available bolt or cotter pin hole in the piece, then hang the part from something overhead. Most of the time, this isn't a problem - the parts are small and they don't hang down to "playing range".

This part was different, though. It is the "spark control rod", and happens to be about 32" long. There is no way to hang it out of reach without hooking it really high on something like the track for the old door I used to have - and THAT is almost too high for me to get to.

To tell the truth, I never even THOUGHT there would be a problem. Them furballs had never bothered things before. It just shows to go you, that felines OBVIOUSLY can't be trusted. I just ran the wire through the cotter pin hole - like I always do - then hung the part to dry - WHERE I always do.

Like I said - I get the thing hung, then start to walk away, when I see Mr. Fuzzball playing Rocky Balboa with it. It was just out of his reach, so he would jump up, swing one arm to swat the rod, jump up again and swat it with the other arm, repeat, repeat, repeat.

He was enjoying his little workout until I ruined it all by yelling "HEY!", and grabbing my wet tractor part (by the wire, of course...) and removing it from his vicinity. It took a bit - I carried that thing around almost long enough for it to dry while I was holding it - but I finally found a place to hang it. The wire was JUST long enough so I could stretch enough to hook it over the old door spring.

Lo and behold, about an hour later - right after I finished painting it RED, I look up and see a different cat, about 4 feet away from it, sitting on a board I have stored in the rafters - eyeing the nice, wet, freshly painted part....

Good thing Sugar (the momma cat) just gave birth to 6 new kittens....

I might need some replacements.....

Lord of the Ring.....

2011-09-17T02:10:00.003-05:00

I remember, back in High School, one of the books we were forced to read was "The Lord of the Rings". I managed to get through about 40-50 pages before I couldn't get any further. I told the teacher the next day to give me an "F" or another book, because I was done reading "that garbage".

To my surprise, he gave me a different book....

I'm a big "Science Fiction" fan - give me Star Trek, or anything like that, that holds some SCIENCE behind it - but you can keep the "Dungeons and Dragons" junk.

Besides, yesterday, out in the barn, I found out just who the REAL "Lord" of the "ring" truly is:

I was out there, doing some cleaning and general piddling around, when I hear a pretty good commotion from the milk room. I figure - USUALLY - a commotion means a "photo op", so I grab my handy-dandy point and shot.

Awhile back we somehow managed to "inherit" a box full of canning rings we didn't really need. I had them in storage in the barn. Since NOTHING is sacred, the cats found them. Every once-in-awhile, I find a ring laying out in the middle of the floor where they decided it's "fun" had been used up.

This particular time, I found the too kittens from Missouri laying in a box, still "using" one of those rings.

I guess they thought it was jewelry, but it made the one cat look a little "regal" -

As soon as they saw me watching them, they quit clowning around, and stopped to pose for the camera. Either that, or they knew their fun was over....

I reached over, and removed her necklace and put it back where it belongs. It looks like a pretty tight fit, but it actually came right off.

I figured it was either end it now, or have to pick the thing up off the floor in the morning....

Polar Bear Loose In The Barn!

2011-09-15T14:29:00.004-05:00

And the cats don't like it!

It was a miserably hot July around these parts, so our resident "Polar Bear" (YANI), took to disappearing during the daylight hours. Instead of toasting outside in the hot summer sun, she hid in the shade of the barn, or one of the other sheds - only to come out at night to terrorize the world.

Even though it's been nice lately - highs in the mid 70's, lows in the 40's and 50's - Yani has been keeping pretty much inside the barn to sleep during the day.

She works "night crew", so tries to "cat nap" unmolested while she can.

Lately, we've had some extra milk to give Yani and her feline buddies, so she sticks close to her supper dish during the day, too. Unfortunately (for them), the CATS like to stick close to it, too.

I think they are just trying to antagonize Yani, though - I fill a pan for them, too, they just feel the need to bother the Polar Bear's food.

It's funny how it goes down - Cat and Yani play, snuffle noses, and generally clown around together, until Yani gets tired and tries to go lay down behind the tractor in the barn.

Sooner or later, the cat will nonchalantly - almost accidentally - sneak over to the dish, and start stealing milk.

This, of course, will get Yani's attention - even if she is asleep (those cats are noisy eaters). She hears the cat, gets up from her comfy spot, and goes out to threaten her "buddy" with bodily harm if the slurping continues.

After a few seconds the cat gets the message loud and clear, and decides that discretion is the better part of staying alive.

Of course, this "game" goes on 3 or 4 times, until Yani gets REALLY tired of getting up and chasing them off. She figures that the only way to keep them pesky critters out of her food is to either:

(A) Finish the food off
(B) Finish the cats off
or
(C) Face guard the dish.

The cats are thankful she picked "C" and not "B"....

Absence of Mallets....

2011-09-08T12:22:00.007-05:00

It one of those classic things where you use a tool, lay it down, and it disappears forever.....

There I was, working on my Farmall F-20. It was late July, 2011. I was working "intermittently" because I had several projects I needed to do before having back surgery the first week in August. I needed to finish part of the "Speed Control" lever so I could install it.

It was one of those deals where I had TWO of the correct part - and BOTH were broken. This made it necessary for me to make a whole new part.

I got about 1/4 done with it before time ran out.

Well - since I'm not able to do a WHOLE lot, I finally decided to get busy on finishing that piece. Last week, I got the thing MADE, but still had to grind it down, "dry" fit it, grind it some more, make sure it fit, then prime and paint it.

Yesterday afternoon, it was finally ready to install for keeps.

I loosen a bolt holding another bracket in the way, deftly slide my masterpiece in place, and "pop" it onto the swivels where it belongs....almost.

It wouldn't budge - I needed a hammer.

Not just ANY hammer, mind you, I needed a rubber mallet so I wouldn't mar my nice, fresh, paint. Now, where IS that mallet.....? I looked high and low, far and wide, and still couldn't find the durn thing. I knew I had had it the last time I worked on this part - just before surgery, so I figured it would be hanging around where I last used it.

Nope.

Then, in the dark recesses of my mind, I VAGUELY remembered using it in the shop, so I trudged up the hill to retrieve it. Only trouble was, another even deeper thought reminded me that I used it there about 6 months ago....So I trudged back to the barn and tore the place apart....again.

After about an hour and a half, I gave up - one of the cats must have eaten the thing or - more likely - knew I'm looking for it, and have it hid. I decided that I HAD to get that thing in there, so I used a small piece of wood, and a claw hammer. Sure enough, it marred the paint...

Not THREE SECONDS after I smacked that wood block, I look up and over my left shoulder, and see the elusive mallet laying peacefully on top of the tractor's rear tire, right in plain sight.

Stupid mallet....

I Finded Them, I Did.....

2011-09-06T17:12:00.004-05:00

Earlier this summer - the last week of June, to be exact - I did some horse trading for a "new" front end (bolster and rims) for my Farmall F-12.

The deal was, the man I bought them from would haul it to Albert Lea, Minnesota to the annual "Red Power Roundup" - a yearly event which gathers all kinds of International Harvestor fanatics from all over the country (it's held in a different location each year....). Once he got them to RPRU, then ANOTHER friend would haul it back to my place (since I couldn't go).

Well, I was waiting with "baited breath" (which means it smelled like chum....) for my bolster to arrive. FINALLY, here comes Kirk down the drive and pulls to a stop next to my truck.

The first thing he does is hand me SOMETHING - I'm not real sure what it was. My excitement and attention was on the bolster. At any rate, it takes us two, a gorilla, and a couple of midgets to wrestle that thing into the loader bucket of the tractor. We figured it weighed about 3 tons. I dumped it on the ground in front of the F-12, where it would wait for another day when I could take it apart, clean, and paint it.

That day came about two weeks later. I pulled up my "barn chair" (and old, salvaged kitchen chair...), and proceeded to take the thing apart.

THAT'S when I discovered there were supposed to be 20 clamps - I had only 18.

After making a fool of myself by posting on a forum about needing the other two, the man I bought it from posted that he sent two with Kirk - and Kirk informed me that he handed them to me the first thing.

Yeah, RIGHT.....

I tore apart the truck, I tore apart the car, the barn, the HOUSE, the shop, even the chicken coop. I had all the birds lined up, and threatened them with a hatchet, but nobody knew where those two clamps went.

Today, over two months later, I decide to go out and do a little "something" to the F-12, so I go ahead and untarp her. As I'm looking around for a small item or two to take loose and clean up, I notice a couple of small "lumps" in the tool box of the tractor.

Yup. There those clamps sat...

So I got them all cleaned up and painted this afternoon.

I dunno. Maybe Kirk was just messing with my mind and stuck them there....

It's one of those cases where you say "I'll put them RIGHT HERE, so they won't get lost......."

Either that, or it was those darn cats - nothing is sacred to them.

See What I "C"....

2011-08-25T15:57:00.003-05:00

Awhile back - 4-5 years, in fact - a friend told me about an old IH "Farmall" tractor that was sitting in a barn not far from my house. He told me he had been trying to talk the owner into selling it to him for about 10 years - until he finally gave up.

Well, I figured that, since he'd given up, I'd give it a try, so I asked the owner to think about selling it.

That was about 3 years ago....

He thought long and hard about it, and we finally got together on a price a couple of days ago. He needs it out of his barn, and I need it IN mine!

This particular tractor is a 1949 IH "C". It's been sitting for several years, but the motor is not stuck. It's one of those IH tractors from close by that I'm sure my Dad had is "finger prints" all over (Dad was Head Mechanic and Parts Man for the local IH dealer...). While Dad never OWNED the tractor, I know he ran it quite a few times.

Right now, she's covered in "Pigeon Poop", but I told the man I got it from that I'd give it a good home and make sure to get her running. The first thing that needs done is a BATH!

I know, my lovely wife HAS to be wondering what in the WORLD do I need another tractor for....especially one that has been "repainted" by the birds. Well - even though the first tractor I drove on my own was a Ford, my first love has always been Farmalls.

NOTHING beats a RED tractor! Even if it only USED to be Red!

Besides, I have to keep up with her brother - he has 5 tractors, so I figure I have to keep - at least - tied with him.

Hopefully, I can at least get this one running without too much difficulty. Then, I can start looking for the NEXT one I want...

I think I need a bigger barn....

F-20 Parts...

2011-08-23T19:53:00.003-05:00

Well, since I ain't allowed to do too awful much, I still have a FEW (REALLY few...) parts I can work on for the old tractors. I am almost out of stuff to work on until I can get some more ready, but at least I will be that much closer to getting the F-20 running - and have less to work on when I DO get back to being able to work on stuff.

Today, I decided that it was time to get to work on this part - it's part of the "speed" control of the tractor. It adjusts the governor response - and thereby - the "throttle" of the engine. The old one was in pretty bad shape, and had been welded a couple of times before I got it. It has since become cracked again, so I decided to just make a new one. It won't be QUITE original, but only the Originality Police will notice.

Here is what the end of the old one looks like:

The "extra" piece welded to the side isn't supposed to be there! As you can see, the hole was getting pretty close to the edge of the metal in that area, too.

I've actually had the metal for this around for a couple months, but just didn't get time to work on it. I measured and bent most of it in my vise, but then took it to a neighbor's anvil to finish the job. It's not PERFECT - but it will do nicely for what it is used for. I have a little more grinding to do, then prime and paint, then I get to take a few parts loose in order to get it installed!

Here is a photo showing the old and the new:

I'll still hang on to the old one, just in case I ever want to "build it up and grind it down", but for now, it will go into the "dead pile".

I'm just glad the "old timers" found the need to do things simple so the average guy in the field could do things to fix it.

I've got a few other "home-made" parts on the old girl, but I ain't saying WHERE...

And nobody - not even the "Originality Police" will be able to tell....

He Wouldn't Have To Get His Legs Wet....

2011-08-21T11:35:00.004-05:00

Deb's dad - Robin - has always told us the stories of when he had a milk cow when Deb was little.

Every morning, he'd get up early, trudge out through the dew wet - and thigh tall - grass, to get the cow into the barn for milking. Every morning it was the same thing - the cow was about as far from the barn as she could get (cows KNOW it bugs people, so they do it on purpose...), Robin would go out to get her, and come back soaked to practically the waist. He'd have to do chores, in addition to milking, then go back into the house, eat breakfast, then change clothes to go to work.

Evidently this got tiring, because the cow soon left for "greener pastures", and was replaced by goats....

When Robin was here on our Hillbilly farm this month, he had to trudge out to get the cows from the pasture and - most of the time - he had to go way out to the farthest point away from the barn to get them. All the way calling "Here, Bos, Here Bos...!"

Unfortunately, cows don't speak Latin (Bos Taurus is Latin for "cow"), so they just looked at him and flickered their radar around, wondering who this new Hillbilly was, and why he was speaking a foreign language to them.

After a few days, the bovine figured out what he wanted, and that it involved food, so they were more willing to walk back to the barn for him.

My grass isn't near as tall as it SHOULD be this year, so he didn't get wet to his gills, but it sure reminded him of his days with the old cow back in the early 1970's - and affirmed his reasoning as to why they got milk goats. Goats are usually waiting at the door when food is involved.

Well, Robin left earlier this week, so Deb and I have had to get the chores done around here together. I must say, I know Deb doesn't particularly LIKE doing them, but together, we can be done in an hour, where it takes me almost 2. She's a great wife, and a game trooper when it comes to doing while I can't.

Anyhoo - since Robin left, we've been milking a little later then he did - not a whole lot, just a 1/2 hour or so.

Well, them butter-cows seem to know when they should be fed, and get up from their nightly chewing of the pasture, and mosey toward the barn without help. Every morning since, I've stood out on the back porch, and called them by name ("Here, Daisy...Here, Mabel...Here, Honey..."). Pretty soon, we see them making their way toward us, then turning to follow the fence.

The most I've had to walk out and get them was about 50' from the big gate at the top of the hill. Since all of the way was mowed grass, or cow path - I BARELY got my SHOES wet, let alone anything any higher!

It just proves that my cows don't need no fancy-smancy "furin" Latin language to come to breakfast. Daisy is always in the lead. When she hears the word "Hungry?", she comes running.

Of course, I don't ALWAYS speak English to the cows - Stew and Clover answer to a DIFFERENT call....

I bleat like a goat, and they come running. They've lived with goats for so long, they think they ARE goats!

We just hope the cows continue to come when called so we don't need to trudge out through the wet grass....

Some Women Just Don't Understand....

2011-08-17T17:24:00.005-05:00

Well - since having surgery on my back two weeks ago, things are coming along nicely. The only thing I have to watch out for is Deb's club when I try to do something I'm not supposed to be doing. So far, I'm on a TEN pound weight limit, so I can't even pick up the dog (one is about 16 pounds, and the other about 11). The little one will jump up into my lap and then onto the bed, so she gets special privileges, though.

Deb's dad has been here since a couple days before I went into the hospital, and just left this noon. He really helped out a LOT around here, and got Deb confident enough to milk the cows and do other things while I can't.

So, while the lovely wife is out at "Oh Dark 30", I'll be still snoozing in bed....

RIGHT.

I'll be the one going out to corral the wayward Bovine while she gets their breakfast ready.

Anyhoo, her dad did a lot of things around here while he was at it - some fence, gates, doors, mowing, and others stuff. He came from 220 miles away without us asking. There are other relation that wouldn't drive a 1/2 mile to help out. What he did was appreciated greatly.

On a "break" last Sunday, we all went to a tractor show some 10-12 miles from here. It was AMAZING, I figured I'd be the last one who wanted to leave, but NOOOOO, we had to drag her DAD away - kicking and screaming...

Ok, he went peacefully, but COULD have stayed longer. He took lots of photos of different machines working, and the grand "Parade of Power" in the afternoon.

One of the things that he wanted to see (me, too) was the plowing demonstrations. There must have been a dozen (or more) tractors out plowing in a 40 acre field! It didn't take long for all their fun to be done with, but it was good to see them work.

There were a few women in the crowd, NONE of which was paying any particular attention to the proceedings, except to wave when their husband came back to their side of the field. As soon as he turned around, the wives returned to milling around, wishing they were somewhere else.

One of the things we noticed all the men standing around, just watching - was a man on a Cat dozer, digging a hole in the plowed ground, then proceed to fill it back up.

The women were mostly absent from this event. OOH's and AHH's came up from the crowd of men, but the women just rolled their eyes. Just about every guy there wanted a Cat of his own so he, too, could play in the dirt.

Most women just do not understand this concept. WHY in the world would you WANT to go tear up dirt, and shove it around? All that exhaust smoke in your face - who would want to put up with THAT all day? And those DIESEL fumes! YUCK! Dirty, sweaty, hot, and tiring work...

In all honesty - I have NO IDEA - I just know it's FUN.

Grandpa And The "Cookie Monster".....

2011-08-14T06:51:00.005-05:00

This whole thing started 2-3 months ago, when we received 6 CARTONS of "Small Dog Milk Bones" from a friend. We gave 4 of them to Deb's dad, since we knew he bought them for his dogs. Our mutts - on the other hand - would sometimes eat them, sometimes not - it depended on their mood, I guess.

The LGD - Yani - would eat them, but usually only if they were in her food. So, needless to say, they weren't being used up very fast....

Until "Grandpa" (Deb's dad, Robin) came over to help out while I am recovering from surgery. Ever since he got here, he's been carrying some of those "cookies" in his pocket so Yani could get one ever-so-often.

Last night, Peaches, decided she wanted to be a "Cookie Monster" while she sat next to Robin, on the couch. We found out that she's pretty good at it, too.

Peaches sat there, getting attention, and having fun, when a whiff of "cookie" hit her. Like Toucan Sam, she followed her nose - right up to Robin's T-shirt pocket. She dug, clawed and scratched, then dove her face right inside to grab her prize. Then, she hopped off his lap, and sat down to chow down on her goodie.

As soon as she finished, she got up to get another one. She dug, and clawed, and came up with another treat. This time, however, she sat down beside Grandpa, and just played with the cookie for a bit. So, not wanting her to waste it - or bury it on the couch - Robin took it back.

This is where the "dog-vs-man" thing came into play.....

Dog wanted cookie, man wanted to play with dog's mind.

Well, Peaches tried to get that treat out of Robin's hand several times - she clawed at his fingers, whined, barked, and even gave a few sad looks with her "puppy dog eyes" - none of which seemed to work. Finally, right in the midst of clawing at his hand, Peaches lunged for his shirt pocket, dove in face first, and ceremoniously jumped away with another cookie.

I guess she got tired of playing - and Grandpa not giving in - and decided to take things into her own paws (or teeth, as it were...).

This one, though, she ate so Grandpa couldn't steal it back.

It's fun to see them think things out and invent ways to get what they want.

KIDS these days.....

It Wasn't A Monkey On My Back, But A Sheep....

2011-08-07T07:02:00.006-05:00

Sort of.

It's been a long, hectic past few months around this Hillbilly farm. Most of the time was spent trying to get things ready for winter (yeah, that "thing" that comes around every year, and lingers for 3-4 months...), and trying to get things ready for me to have a sawbones work on my back.

It seems I had a couple of vertebrae who didn't want to follow the program and go off and do their own thing. Then, they invited their "Cyst-er" to come along for the ride.

Well, their fun and games came to a screeching halt last Wednesday, August 3rd, 2011.

That's when the VA decided to ruin their day, and get me back into "alignment". They performed what they called a "Laminectomy", tossed out the "Cyst-er", and put in a couple fence posts to set me straight.

Here, all this time, we figured there was SOMETHING in there causing all the pain, we had NO IDEA it was a Sheep. The nurse came by yesterday morning (Saturday 6 August), with our checkout papers and started to read to us just what they done to me.

"The first thing they did was perform a "Laminectomy", she began....

"WHAT? They pulled a SHEEP outta my back?", came my puzzled reply.

"Huh....?" came her even MORE puzzled response.

"Ok, a BABY sheep - you know - a LAMB, no WONDER my back hurt so much...."

I have no idea how that sheep got in there, but I am SURE glad it's gone now - I feel a LOT better. That's why we're goat people - never did trust them sheep. We've only had a couple around here over the past years - and look what trouble they caused!

Oh well, at least we're back home now.

The only thing I want explained to me is - WHY, if you run outta thread, who sent the guy to the hardware store to get STAPLES to put me back together with?

"There's A Little Black Spot On My Screen, Today...."

2011-07-31T09:03:00.007-05:00

(With apologies to Sting and the Police.....)

This falls (once again) under the heading of:
"Just when you THINK you've seen everything...."

Granted, it WAS early morning, and we hadn't slept very well the night before because we were at Deb's parent's house for a niece's graduation from Nursing School (she's now a new LPN), but that's not a very good excuse. If I had done it, my lovely wife would STILL be laughing.

Lucky for me, I rarely do things like this....

There we were, sitting in her parents "Mission Control" (where all the computers, printers, and other stuff are - including her mom's sewing stuff), when I noticed Deb "fidgeting" at her laptop computer.

I didn't realize it until a few minutes later - when SHE realized what she was doing - but here's what transpired:

Deb's fingers worked back and forth swiftly going from key to key. The bad thing was, she was working the "backspace" and "delete" keys the most. We could hear the disgust in her voice when she said:

"WHY can't I get rid of this stupid period on my screen???"

Then a long pause while her fingers kept at it. All of a sudden, it dawned on her what was going on -

"OOOHHH - there's a spot ON my screen.....!", she half exclaimed, half laughed to the rest of us.

She had spent the last few minutes trying to "delete" dirt from her screen. Evidently, the tiny spot was positioned exactly where a period would be on her address bar - perfectly placed so that the delete key wouldn't work, and the backspace key would hop right over it.

She tried to use the excuse that it was early in the morning, she was tired, she still had her old glasses on, etc, etc, yada, yada, yada....

Everyone else was pretty much sure it had something to do with hair color....

I can't take her NOWHERE - not even her parent's house....

Fan - TASTIC...

2011-07-28T20:16:00.010-05:00

Awhile back, I was cruising through a scrap metal pile, and came across a fairly good shaped Pedestal Fan. You know - one of those that has a nice round base, and stands about 6 feet tall. This one was also 30" wide.

The place where I dug it out from was where the county and state road departments throw out their metal "trash", and anything metal they find on the road, dead. I THINK I know the reason it was in the pile.

I drug the thing home and plugged it in. The motor sounded good, but the blades just BARELY turned, so I set about tearing it apart. It was a good thing I started with the back cover....

When I pulled the three screws holding the cover, I figured that I had found the reason it was in the "dead" pile - there was a good sized capacitor, with the side blown out.

Now, I'm not one to let a thing like a little capacitor do me in, so I called the company (TPI), to see if I could get a replacement. I was routed through Customer Service, then Tech Support, and finally to a guy who "troubleshoots".

I told him the problem, he did some checking, and told me it was a "non-replaceable part". Not really believing him, I said thank you, and hung up. A few days later, I tried again. It was "Divine intervention" that I called over their lunch break, because Tech Support was "out to lunch". The switchboard lady sent me to someone named "Robin" in the "Parts Department".

It was amazing! Before I even finished my question, she told me "Yeah - we got a whole box of them things"! Even though I couldn't order it just then, I at least had a part number.

Well - "HAD" is right....

When it came time to actually order the thing, I couldn't find the paper with the number - or even the lady's name I talked to. So, there I was, back on the phone to "Customer Service", only to be told the thing didn't exist.

After a couple more days of searching for the elusive scrap of paper, I just called up TPI, and asked for "some lady in Parts".

Low and behold, Robin answered the phone. Three days, and $18 later, my non-existent capacitor arrived in the mail.

It took about 5 minutes to install the thing,then I made ready for the "test run". I was amazed at the wind this thing puts out! It was a really humid day outside, with temps in the high 80's - and not a breath of wind. Inside the barn, however, there was a nice breeze....

In fact, it was blowing so strong, it drowned out my voice telling you how nice it was having moving air inside the barn while it was hot and muggy outside the barn.

As I was working on a couple projects (while soaking up the nice "windstorm" from the fan), I couldn't help but wonder if the crew who got rid of the fan in the first place had ditched it because of being told the part wasn't available. They probably have a nice, new fan that cost the taxpayers $175 (or more), when they could have (albeit - unknown to them) fixed the old one.

At least there's air in the barn now....sure wish I would have fixed it about 3 months ago.....

Fit To Be Tied...

2011-07-17T19:39:00.004-05:00

Ever since Mr Fan died, Daisy has been in mourning....

Of course, she shows it by giving a little "attitude".

This afternoon, I went over to a neighbor's house to collect some corn husks so the cows would have a little extra to eat. The two calves (Stew and Clover) came running up to the nice shady spot I pulled up to. They saw me forking the stuff over the fence, and decided to "get it while the gettin's good".

They stood there, happily munching in the shade on a 98° day.

The three "moms" and the little boy (KC for KC Strip) just stood and WATCHED me unload the shucks from the truck. I called and called, but they stayed about 100 yards off - just looking at me with that dumbfounded look cows get when they think you're up to something.

Well, about an hour and a half later, I grab the milk bucket and head out to squeeze the cows. I EXPECTED them to be munching away under the nice big, shady tree I left the pile under but, NOOOOOO. Not MY cows.

They were all laying down under a tree about 30 feet away from the pile. As soon as Daisy heard the door latch turn on the back door to the barn, she practically JUMPED to her feet and headed out for the 150 feet, or so, trip to the barn.

It was an odd sight - Daisy was doing her usual half trot toward the barn and supper when - like a switch being flipped - she passed within about 15' of that pile of shucks. The wind was in the right direction, and the smell of corn shucks hit her nostrils like a cast iron skillet upside the head. She made an IMMEDIATE 90° hard right, and planted her face in the middle of the stack.

FINE. Make ME head out into the oppressing heat wave to come get you up the hill and in for supper. It's not like I'm twisting your hooves or anything.

"You had a good chunk of the afternoon to find that food, now get your beefy-butt into the barn before I light the grill", I told her.

Like the smart alack cow she is, she swatted at me with her tail, shook her head and said "With this heat, I've been on the grill ALL DAY."

I think she even stuck her tongue out at me!

Anyhoo, a few pokes with my stick, and she headed on up. Mostly because she knew food was involved, and the pile of shucks would be there after supper - bovine dessert.

Well, since Box Fan died, and a replacement hasn't been hired yet - Daisy swats more flies with her tail. Normally, this would be ok, but it's a constant thing now, and my head is between her tail and the flies when I'm milking.

Time for DRASTIC measures....

I used baler twine to tie Daisy's tail to the wall....

As you can see by the look on her face, she is NOT amused. I've been doing this for the past few days, and things were going well - until tonight.

Like I said, Daisy was in and "attitude" MOO'd (ok, bad pun...), and had plans of snapping me in the face with that tail. She was a bit miffed when it couldn't happen. All was well until I let her out of the stanchion, and she turned around to go outside. I stood in front of her, calling like I normally do, and she just LOOKED at me.

Stubborn cow!

"Get yer hind end outside", I exclaimed.

She just STOOD there, BLINKING at me! She even shook her head, and even wiggled her body side to side as if to tell me she wasn't gonna budge.

I tried it one last time before getting the grill warmed up - "Get outside NOW!"

Same stubborn response. Same dumb look. Shaking of head, shifting of feet, waggling of body...

My plan was to move in behind her so I could push. It was about then I realized that the cow wasn't being stubborn. When I was in a position where I could see things a little more clearly, I saw the reason she only went so far and stopped.....

I forgot to untie her tail....

A small tug on the loup of the rope, and the cow went FLYING toward the door at break-neck speed....

OK, she mosied out the door....

Sometimes, cows look at us stupid because we ARE.

Requiem For A Fan....

2011-07-15T14:37:00.005-05:00

Box W. Fan

It's with a heavy heart that I must announce the death of Box Window Fan. He went to meet someone else instead of his maker on 10 July 2011 at the ripe old age of 23.

Born during the heat wave of 1988, Box, was thrust into a life of hard labor early on. He never had a "childhood" so to speak - having spent only a short few days on the shelf at Kmart. Box never really knew who is parents were, but made several friends on the boat from China. His friends have always said he had a "light and airy" outlook on life. Everyone agrees, he was one cool dude.

After leaving his new found buddies at Kmart, Box became an "apartment dweller" in a low-income housing complex. Little pay, little sleep, and constant work added age to Box, but he kept working tirelessly through it all. It wasn't until his late teens (old age for his family), that Box looked forward to retirement on the farm.

He enjoyed being around the animals and causing havoc with the local Barn Fly Union (Local 666), and loved to see them struggle against his air currents.

Later as his time grew near, Box found himself short of breath, but still kept plugging along. His many relatives urged him to slow down, but his world kept spinning at the same speed. Toward the end, he did slow down a bit, but not for the lack of trying.

Unfortunately, Box W. Fan succumbed to Heat Stroke sometime during the late afternoon of 10 July 2011, while at work in the barn. After it was determined that he was "Brain Dead", the family requested that he be unplugged from life support for the final time that evening.

Per his request, he will be dismantled and scrapped.

His survivors of the immediate family include: His wife of 10 years Floor A. Fan, two sons, Oscillate R. Fan and wife Compute R. Fan, of the home, Peddy Stall Fan and wife Ceiling Fan, also of the home, 6 grand Fans, and a cousin who is currently installed at the county jail. Countless others will mourn his passing, as will the cows in the barn.

The Flies, however, will be celebrating....

The family asks that in lieu of flowers, that memorials be donated to Future Fans of Ammerica, or the Fan Heat Stroke Prevention Group, to help combat this deadly desase, which is the number one killer of fans besides Electric shock.

Somebody PEA'D In My Oatmeal....

2011-07-06T19:03:00.003-05:00

Well - today was the day - we picked the first fresh peas from our garden. There weren't very many, but there was enough for supper. After picking them, I spent a while popping them from their snug little pods.

Afterward, I decided to give the pods to the cows for supper.

Normally, Daisy is the first one in, and the first to feed her face at the stanchion. Tonight was no different, she zoomed right past me, practically JUMPED onto the stand and stuck her head through the headstall....

That's where the similarity ended and the nightmare began.

Normally, I have a mixture of oats, barley, molasses, kelp, Apple Cider Vinegar, and some minerals waiting to be devoured by the bovine. It seems that the tongue is working before the nose gets through the stanchion. For this supper, I added the pods.

Tonight, Daisy reminded me of my sister - the hater of peas. Just like sis, her taste buds came into contact with the offending green plant matter, and she made every fowl face known to cow.

Stamping, snorting, dirty looks and then the toddler attitude -

"I'm NOT eating THAT!", she made clear to me.

"Fine", I told her, "that's all you're gonna get".

"Well, I'm just not hungry, then", she said with a snort, after which she stuck her nose in the air and refused to even LOOK at her food. It was just like watching a two-year old being forced to eat liver. She was adamant about refusing, and I was just as adamant about standing my ground.

I finished milking her - all the while listening to her sighs if impatience, and dodging her snapping tail (she has REALLY good aim with that thing...). As soon as I opened the head stall, she huffed, turned around and headed out the door as fast as she could - obviously disgusted with the whole affair.

Oh well, they would be in there for the next cow - which turned out to be Honey.

Now, Honey usually eats just about everything - and anything - we set before her lips. We have to scrape down the dish because she's not good at cleaning the corners, but she eats pretty good. Tonight, she licked all those pods clean, and spit them back out. Every grain was slicked out of the pan, but a pile of pea-pods remained when she was done. I even watched her pick several up, chomp them, then spit them back out after cleaning off any grain that was stuck on them.

FINE

See if I try to give you something special - EVER AGAIN!

For the record, Mabel was the good cow, she didn't eat ALL of them, but she devoured about 2/3 of the pile.

I figure they are just like any child....

What they didn't finish for supper, they can have cold for breakfast...

Brought Another One Home

2011-07-03T11:15:00.006-05:00

Albeit - this one isn't staying long....maybe....

My wife's brother has been looking for a small square baler in case his two Allis-Chalmers Roto-balers run aground. He's been on the look-out for about 2 years now, until this one finally came up. It's an Internationl Harvestor #46 Baler from the early 1960's.

I got it from a friend's brother about 15 miles away. It looks to be in good condition, but it will need "tinkering" to get it to work like it was supposed to. It was also pretty clean - for the most part - but there are always spots on things like this that collect crud. One of those spots is the knotter assemblies.

The nice thing on these balers is that, you take one bolt out, and the whole assembly rotates up so you can work on it. I decided to turn one up, hit it with some cheap dollar store oven cleaner, then hose it off after a few minutes. It did wonders on removing the build up. Now, a guy can see what he's doing on the thing.

Things will need polished up and adjusted - along with the right size twine put in, but once everything gets done up correctly, this should make a fine baler.

This morning, I took it to town and blasted it off at the car wash (not to worry, it was mostly de-crudded before I left here - just the nasty stuff was left). It's not "squeaky" clean now, but close to it. I did the same thing to my New Holland baler when I got it, and am glad I did. It not only cleaned things up, but showed me where any leaks were so I could take care of them. It also uncovered any wire or twine that was hanging from places it should have been - in addition to making it easier to work on.

At any rate, I wish I had some 7200 Sisal twine - I have to bale hay in a week or two, and I'd like to try it out. You never know, though, it MIGHT be here awhile...

The way it is now, we might need to put a boat hull under it to get it across the Missouri River to her brother's house....

The Long Hiatus....

2011-06-30T13:54:00.010-05:00

I realize that it's been a LONG time since my last post - I didn't realize that it had been a MONTH, though. I've been pretty busy lately My lovely wife has also been telling me I need to blog, too.

I never listen to her, though.....

Over the last few weeks, I've been working on my Farmall F-20 a little bit. You might recall what it looked like last August when we brought it home:

Well, I'm not DONE with it yet, but a FEW changes have taken place. I'm SOOOO close to being done, I can taste it. Unfortunately, money and time have put a damper on finishing things. About all I have left is a rear inner tube, magneto work, spark plug wires, throttle and spark linkages, a couple of gauges, and paint.

I AM accepting donations.......

In the mean time, I had other tractor troubles. My neighbor actually volunteered to help me cut those NASTY Cedar trees out of my "back 40". He has a fancy Skidsteer mounted tree shear, and made short work of about 80% of what we were after. I had grand designs on getting out and pushing the dead ones out of his way with my tractor.

For the most part, this worked fine. I'd push away, and shoved them around until there are now several huge piles of dead tree bodies laying out there, waiting for a skiff of snow so they can be cremated.

I had known my loader bucket was on it's last legs when I bought it - it was limping pretty good then - now it's dying rapidly. The metal was, basically, "Swiss cheese" to begin with, now it's "Limburger" (what happened to it stinks....).

There I were, shoving along. I got to the pile, and the durn loader bucket wouldn't let go of the tree! I finally had to get the chainsaw, and CUT the tree loose so I could extract the trunk from the bucket. Now, it has a hole I can almost stick my head through. THEN, THIS happens....

While it LOOKS more serious than it was, it slowed me down a couple days - mostly waiting for the good front tires I ordered to arrive. I cannot say enough good about the used aircraft tires from Gensco.
I used to get several flats a week, but now - ZERO. If you have thorns or other "flat tire makers" BUY THESE TIRES!

(I have NO connection with the company, just a VERY satisfied customer)

Anyhoo - the whole mess was a sheared "woodruff key" that cost 50¢, and about 1/2 hour to fix - once I cut all of the brush away from the tractor so I could get to it....

A few weeks back, we got some hay from another friend about 12 miles away. Deb and I went down to help load it, but most of the work (95%) was done by the friend. We got it all stacked and strapped down, when Deb asks him if he guaranteed the stacking would hold. He said "Don't call me if more than five come off".

Well, we got the load home, backed it into the barn, and unstrapped. I knocked 5 onto the floor, then called him to tell him his stack didn't hold, so he'd need to come re-stack them.

Unfortunately, my ploy didn't work. It took a week, but we got it unloaded. As for the SECOND load - it's still on the trailer in the barn. I unload a couple here and there as I can, but it's been two weeks, and I've gotten 10 off....

I'm accepting volunteers, too.....

At least having the loaded trailer in the barn has made for a couple of amusing events. One, the momma cat (Sugar) tried some acrobatics - twice - with similar results. The other day, Deb and I were out feeding the baby boy calf we have (born 18th of June), when Sugar hopped up on one of the wooden gates in the barn. She sat there for awhile, then tried to leap across a 3 foot span and light atop the other 2" wide gate.

Graceful she ain't. Flying fur, hissing, scrambling, and crashing to the ground, then stopping and sitting there like she MEANT to do it. The other time, she did the same thing, except she dove off the hay on the trailer, across about 5', with designs on hitting the top rail of the gate.

Stupid cat....

Her 6 kittens also have fun playing "hide and seek" in and around the hay on the trailer. Even Daisy the cow, joins in. The other evening, I milked her, then let her out the side door of the barn - knowing full well she'd scamper (as best cows can) around the barn, and sneak in the other door, in hopes of "seconds".

Sometimes, I think I have three of her because it seems like she is in several different places at the same time....

On this particular night, I HEARD her come in, and push through the gates into the main part of the barn. Usually, she comes into the milk room, and wants to shove into the stanchion with the other cow. That night she was a no-show, so I though maybe I was hearing things - especially since it was "all quiet on the Bovine front", after I heard her come in.

Little did I know....

I finished with the other cow, got her outside, then turned my attention to closing up the barn. That's when I saw Daisy's nose peeking around the corner of the hay on the trailer. Just as quick as I spotted it, it disappeared behind the stack. A few seconds later, she peeked around the corner again to see if I had noticed her.

I had.

I took a couple steps toward her, and she just stopped moving, held her breath, and stood absolutely STILL.

Cow: "Maybe if I don't even blink, he won't see me...."

Hillbilly Human: "I wonder where that durn cow is..."

Cow: "I think it's working! OH CRUD! I BLINKED!"

Hillbilly Human: "AaHA!

Cow: "RATS..."

She stood there for about 10 seconds, knowing she was busted, then took a couple steps toward the gate. Suddenly, she stopped, turned around, grabbed a BIG mouthful of hay from a bale, then pranced out of the barn, swishing her tail.

This round to the cow - at least in the cow's mind....

Can't Take Her Nowhere, Part Two....

2011-05-18T11:44:00.004-05:00

It NEVER fails, I can't take my lovely wife ANYWHERE without an "incident! She's either insulting some guy's "manhood", ripping something up, or just plain acting goofy (since she turned 40, "Goofy" is her new middle name....).

Well, the latest happening (HOPEFULLY) takes the cake!

There we were, at the VA Hospital in Omaha, Nebraska.....

We had just finished with a check-up in one of the "clinics", and were headed back to the car. It was a rather cool(ish) day, so my bride was wearing her jacket. Well, at least it was cool when we went INTO the hospital, now, an hour later, the temp had risen enough to make the extra clothing too hot. It was time for my wife to remove her jacket. NORMALLY, she just climbs into the car, THEN announces that she "should have taken her jacket off".

I SHOULD have know something was amiss when she stopped by the hood of the car, set down her purse, and began stripping in the parking lot. I asked, "What are you doing", to which came the reply - "It's starting to get hot, and I needed my jacket off."

Ok - fine nothing wild and crazy so far, except I DID comment on the fact she was "doomed" because she remembered her jacket BEFORE getting into the car.

Little did I know....

So, she tosses her now liberated coat into the back seat of the car, and we both get in and prepare to leave. We had been underway for about a minute when this GAWD-AWFUL sound made it's appearance -

RRRRRRIIIIPPPPPPP......!

I about swerved off the road! I couldn't believe my ears! I looked at my lovely wife with eyes WIDE OPEN, and an incredulous look on my face. Her wide-eyed stare back told me she was thinking the same thing.

"It came from YOUR side of the car!", exclaimed I, "You can't blame THIS one on ME!"

Her wide-eyed glare turned to roaring laughter as she TRIED to explain herself. Once she caught her breath, through tears, she told me it wasn't her - it was HER JACKET!

RIGHT!

Now I HAVE heard everything. At least I blame it on the dog. She tries the lame excuse of blaming an unsuspecting inanimate object. I'm sure that if the dog were with us, she MIGHT have come up with something better than her coat. I DO have to hand it to her, though, she gets an "A" for originality.

Once she figured out that I wasn't buying the jacket story, she came up with an new one.

"It was the sign in the back window. The jacket caught it, and took it out of the window. As it slid down the door, it made that sound...."

Ok. Wink, Wink....

Nice try, Dear.

We laughed about it almost all the way home (and even into this morning...). I'm also adding it to my "Top 25 Weird Excuses" file, just so she can't use it again.
While I'm still not totally convinced it was that sign, I AM willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

If only because we didn't have to roll the windows down when it happened.

**DISCLAIMER**

While all this took place as written (or as close as possible), she DID prove her innocence, and came out of the whole thing smelling like a rose....

Those #@! KIDS!

2011-04-29T12:38:00.007-05:00

It's funny how, when someone from a "younger generation" comes across an item the "old fogies" consider common, how they react. I remember one time, my - then 12 or 13 year old - nephew borrowed one of my vinyl records.

You remember RECORDS, right.....?

Well, APPARENTLY he didn't. He brought it back a couple weeks later and told me that half the songs from the album were "missing". I had NO idea what he was talking about until I realized he didn't know to flip the record over. He thought it was like a big, black, CD, and all the songs were on one side.

D'OH!

Of course, this is the same nephew who didn't know what a "yard stick" was....

"You mean a Meter Stick?", he asked.

"No - a YARD stick!", I replied.

From that point, I had to SHOW him a yard stick and EXPLAIN it to him before he caught on. I think the Public School System needs revamped.....When kids don't know what a yard stick is, something is amiss.

Well, yesterday, God blessed us with the opportunity to get completely out of debt, so we hopped in the car, and drove to the Big City to take care of business. While there, we ran into another youngster - a cashier at a hardware store.

Earlier in the week, we visited the local VA Hospital for a checkup. While there I got a $2 dollar bill (it seems the only place to get such currency IS the VA). Since the total at the store was small, I decided to use that legal tender $2 bill. Digging it out of my wallet, and handing it to the young woman checker, I commented that, "The last checker I gave a $2 dollar bill to, thought it was fake...."

I guess this got a "rise" out of her, because she piped up and stated "It MUST have been some young KID, RIGHT?"

"Well, yes, as a matter of fact, it's happened more than once, and each time it was a teenager who wasn't aware the US even MADE $2 bills...."

To which she replied (in her best disgusted voice): "Those stinkin' KIDS!"

At this point, my lovely wife and I shot a glance at each other (because we were both thinking the same thing)....

THIS girl WAS a teenager!

"How old are YOU?", I asked.

"Uh......wellll....um........19......", she trailed off.

Yup. Those stinkin' KIDS.......At least she knew about US currency. It was a good chuckle for us, at any rate.

After that, we headed home uneventfully. Later in the afternoon, we walked to the top of our hill with the dogs, and offered up a prayer of thanks to God for allowing us to fully pay things off and for continued guidance to be Shepherds of HIS land. HE came up with a way for us to be able to get it done, and we will be eternally grateful to HIM for it.

Remember HIM in all things....

There's A Hole In The Bucket, Dear Liza, Dear Liza

2011-04-22T21:16:00.003-05:00

I can remember when I was much younger, and what the fields looked like on this place. Nice green pastures, big Cottonwood trees down by the ditches, and wide spaces between the ditches that Dad baled hay, and cows grazed peacefully.

That was before the infestation of the Cedar trees....

Now, there are places back there that a rabbit needs a chainsaw to get through. It's a huge battle - one the trees seem to be winning. When my wife's dad saw those cedars when we first bought the place, his first comment was "Pray for lightning....".

Well, it's not exactly lightning, but they will get "toasted" eventually. The first part of the process is to cut them down.

That is where my neighbor comes in. He has a nice, heavy-duty tree shear mounted on his skid steer. One of those big units that can chomp through a tree 18" thick. Over the last few days, he has been out there, chomping as many trees as he can, and I have been out there trying to keep the downed trees out of his way.

We've only been at it for about 4-5 hours total, but have gotten a pretty good "dent" in the "forest". Unfortunately, there are several thousand of the little weeds out there.

Yesterday afternoon, we spent about 2 hours at it. When I got back to the house, I fell off the tractor and discovered I wasn't the only one hurting.

The bucket was never in real great shape - it was rusted through in places and getting REAL thin. Now, there is a "head sized" hole in the back of it! It's not real weldable, either, the metal is just about wore out, and corroded to death - it would be like trying to weld a pop can - only a rusty one.

I have been on the lookout for a different bucket since we got the tractor 2 years ago. I guess I'll have to step up my efforts.

Tonight's Undercard....

2011-04-14T23:50:00.004-05:00

It's the old "David and Goliath" thing - you know the little scrawny guy versus the hulking giant. Most of the time, the giant kicks serious behind, but there are times when the little runt wins - even if it was by a lucky punch.

Peaches is a spoiled little hound. Somehow, she ended up being spoiled into having to spend a few minutes (ok, 45 or so....) each night before bedtime, on top of our bed, playing with "mom".

Neither my wife nor I can remember how this trend started, but - I'm here to say - IT WASN'T ME WHO DID IT. SOMEBODY else did the spoiling on this one. All I know is, Peaches can go from a dead sleep to full tilt in about 1.47299506 seconds, when she sees one of us head for the bedroom at night. She also knows that she has to select and bring a toy (fuzzy squeak toy, rope, or ball...), or do without one.

We always instill in our "children" a sense of responsibility....

Anyhoo - tonight was no different. I hear the two of them head for the bedroom and playtime. I can hear the goings on from the other end of the house - laughter, barks, growls, yelling, and other assorted noises - and that's just my wife - the dog has fun, too.

Every night, my lovely wife will braid her long blonde hair, into a pony tail, and hold it together at the end with one of those "scrunchy", elastic, cloth, thingy, doodads. This "braid holder" has become one of Peaches' favorite toys. She will jump, attack, sneak and pounce in all kinds of crazy ways in order to snag it and pull it from the braided hair.

Tonight was no different, the hair was braided, the dog plotted to steal the scrunchy.

All was going along fine and dandy, until our sweet little Dachshund turned into an evil Boxer....

There we were, winding down from playtime, getting ready for the child to get into her bed, instead of ours. All was well, until Peaches looked past my ear, and saw that tempting braid dangling within easy reach of a quick dart.

In a split second, she went from being curled up and relaxed, to a little red rocket, aimed right at that scrunchy. I guess my head was a little too close, because the next thing I knew, I felt a "fist" hit me square in the eyeball, and stars were floating very close overhead....

The last sight I saw before I blacked out, was Peaches dangling from Deb's locks, happily trying to strip her prize from it's moorings.

The worst part is - I didn't even see it coming - the little runt sucker punched me in the eye to get me outta the way! At any rate, it wasn't much of a fight - one of those "two hit" fights - her hitting me, then me hitting the floor (or bed in this case...). After my head cleared, it was made ABUNDANTLY clear to Peaches that, if I should wake up with a black eye in the morning, she would PAY (maybe we should trim some toenails.....Hmmmmmmm....).

I can almost hear the ring announcer now -

"In THIS corner, weighing in at 241 pounds, 6'7", "Scroungeman", Old Guy, with a bad back. Undisputed Heavyweight...."

"His opponent, in the other corner, weighing in at a meager 9 pounds, at 1'1", Flyweight, all paws, and all claws - Peaches - the "Red Rocket"...."

DING, DING, DING

Now, we just need to design a pair of those nifty little shorts for her....

Averting A "Shutdown"....

2011-04-09T10:23:00.004-05:00

Everywhere I look outside, the "economy" is falling apart. We have some who are given a "bale out":

Others, who are forced to just stand idly by and watch - wishing they, too could enjoy the perks:

I don't know for sure, but I just might have to shut down the local farm "government". Of course, we'll make sure a skeleton crew is kept around to keep things going during any shutdown, but they won't have much to work with. Milking is about it - we gotta make sure to collect what the serfs owe in "taxes", but won't be able to process any "refunds", should that be necessary.

During all this, I keep hearing from the Turkeys on the left (of the barn). They figure that they should have things their way, even though they aren't in charge.

One thing is for certain - something better happen QUICK, I'm getting REAL close to operating from a "deficit":

Oh well, things are gonna turn around sooner or later - the grass is greening up and pretty soon the "masses" can fend for themselves out in greener pastures.

I just hope the cats don't get involved, if that happens, we're doomed.....

Hairy Houdini....

2011-04-06T10:00:00.005-05:00

....and his latest trick.

You MIGHT recall some of his earlier exploits around the barn:

Stupid Fish

And even this one from my wife's blog:

Sure-footed Tom

Well... I ought to take his "show" on the road. Today, he outdid even HIMSELF.

Beside one of the food storage freezers I have in the barn, is a small "table" I use (when it's not infested with cat fur bodies....) to hold the bucket while I get feed out. It also is a good spot to store my gloves and other things, while I dig for food.

This morning, it was a right handy place to toss a towel down to await being used later on.

Who knew that this simple act would cause such an uproar of laughter from me, and "Do'h, He's at it AGAIN", looks from the cows and his feline gene pool - although - they don't claim him.

There I was, going about the morning barn stuff, when Mr Hairy decided to debut his latest crowd pleaser. It happened in slow motion at first - our little "magician" stood on the floor, eyed the table and the towel for a few seconds, then leaped to the top.

Just like the Coyote in those old cartoons, time stood still for 3-4 seconds while he contemplated his next move. Then, slowly, the towel began to slide toward the floor - Magic Man firmly attached to it's fabric. The next thing our hero knew, he was flat on his back on the floor - under the towel, trying to escape it's grasp so he could make a hasty exit from the stage.

After several minutes of applause, laughter and "cat calls", the Mastermind came back into the room and promptly gave an encore performance...

...of the SAME trick....

Now, I don't know for sure - I haven't seen him since - but he's probably off somewhere thinking up something new to wow and amaze his "fans".

At this point, I'd hate to see what he would do with a "Lovely Assistant"

FINALLY Getting a "Round Tuit"....

2011-04-04T11:56:00.007-05:00

Awhile back, On the 20th of February, actually - I posted about an online store called "CSN Stores" (OK, it's actually over 250 stores....). My wife has purchased a few things from them in the past, and they sent me a "gift Certificate" to buy a couple things for myself.

Here is a link to my Blog post, telling you all about that end of the deal.

Poke Here

At any rate, my part of the process - besides getting the tools - is to write a review of said tools - good or bad. WAY back, when I was in the USMC, I hurt my foot, and was laid up for about 12 months. My winning prize for this indiscretion, was to be assigned to the Squadron "Tool Room". Here, we inventoried, repaired, and replaced various kinds of tools and equipment for use on the aircraft.

We had varied brand names in stock - some well known, "household" name brands, and some nobody every heard of. Mostly, we had the no-name brands because we had a low budget - the Navy penny pinchers were tight fisted when it came to giving the Marines money. We, like all Marines before us, complained a lot, then worked with what we had.

I WILL tell you, though, just because a tool is a "no-name" brand - or is not "Made In USA", does not mean it is a "bad" tool. Our Squadron (actually Marine Corps wide) broke more high dollar, "high end" tools then all the "off" brands COMBINED.

The main thing is, high dollar, doesn't always mean high quality, and - conversely - low cost doesn't always mean "junk".

Now, on with the "show".....(click on the tool name, and it will take you to the page in the store)

The first "tool" I bought was actually a Combination Wrench Set. I have a set of small wrenches, but sometimes, your need one for every hand - and maybe one for clenching between your teeth. It didn't take me long to settle on this wrench set:

Wrench Set

I found these wrenches made by "Pony" to be of REAL nice quality. They aren't "fat", "misshapen", "stubby", nor otherwise oozing with cheapness. I put them through the paces while working on my Farmall F-20 tractor over the last month. I actually TRIED to abuse them a few times, but they held up wonderfully. They are polished nicely, and fit the bolts like they should. I only wish I had TWO sets. They come in a handy plastic case that is suitable for storage (like hanging on the wall), or you can toss that part, and put them in a tool box. Either way, these are pretty darn good tools.

Drill Bits

Ok, these drill bits come in a nice METAL index box, and even had an extra 1/8" bit with them! I haven't used ALL of them, but the ones I have used are good quality. A lot of times, the difference between a good bit, and a bad bit, is the operator, not the bit. Slow the drill down, use a lubricant, and these will stay sharp a long time.

Locking Pliers

I have several sets of "locking pliers" (commonly called "visegrips" just like all refrigerators used to be called "Frigidaire", regardless of the actual brand....). Some are good, some are better used as fishing weights, then as a tool.

The main 2 problems I have with these types of tools are (1) The lower jaw attachment to the body is weak. This causes the jaw to "twist" when in use. It doesn't take long, and the jaw has twisted far enough to make the pliers unusable. Number (2) - the "UNlocking" handle. Sometimes, when you get the things latched on to something, they decide they like where you have them, and refuse to let go - sort of a "pit Bull" syndrome....

I've actually had to take other wrenches and twist them in between the arms to pry other pliers loose....

Well - THESE pliers have neither of these faults! I was actually impressed the first time I used them. I clamped them down as hard as I could. They stayed straight, and - when I tried to take them off - I just scratched them behind the ears, hit the release lever, and they let go like they should. I am hoping that - in the near future - I am able to buy the next larger set.

Well, there you have it! I think I made three pretty darn good purchases from CSN stores!

I Can't Take Her Nowhere...

2011-03-31T14:37:00.007-05:00

I don't really know WHEN it started, but I imagine it began right about the 12th of October, back in 1991 - our Wedding Day....Actually, the day after:

We were in a fancy restaurant in Kansas City, Missouri. The lights were subdued, the table was toward the back, and the food was excellent. My wife got up to "powder her nose"(so to speak....). When she returned to the table, her skirt grabbed the tablecloth as she sat down.

Ever see one of those "magic tricks" where the guy rips the table cloth right out from under the food and dishes? Well THAT'S what happened that night, only she stopped about half way. A few other couples saw her and one even clapped.

It's been "down hill" ever since.

If it wasn't getting into trouble playing miniature golf, or bowling, then it was the time we got into trouble laughing hysterically at a funeral. Oh, there were other times, to be sure. Too many to even remember - the INCIDENT might be gone, but the embarrassment lingers.

Don't even ASK about the Halloween decoration incident. Suffice it to say that she tried to walk off with half the decorations from a desk attached to her skirt...

I can't even go sneaking up on a flock of geese in the neighbor's field without my lovely wife embarrassing me!

Well, it happened AGAIN today.

Over the past month and a half, we have witnessed Peaches get bigger, stronger, more playful, and able to tear up her toys quicker than we can replace them. Her favorite toy has been a 6" "tennis ball" that has - now - seen better days. She has managed to strip all of the fuzz off of it, to the point where she can no longer pick it up.

She still loves to play with it, but it makes it kind of hard when she can't carry it. She'll run it to death around the house, until it gets "stuck" under a piece of furniture, or in a corner. Then, she barks until one of us is suckered into retrieving it for her so she can start all over again.

Today was the last straw. We were going to the Big City to go shopping, so we decided that that old, naked, ball was on the way out - IF we could find a suitable replacement. So, off we go to a "name-brand, nationwide, big box, pet supply store". I ain't saying WHICH store, but you need to be "smart" to shop there.

Well, as it turns out, my wife can embarrass herself in just about ANY store, so a pet supply store shouldn't be - and wasn't - any different.

Now, here is where it gets "cloudy" - so don't quote me "word-for-word" on it but this is how I remember it:

After rummaging through the shelves, bins, and end caps, she (my wife) couldn't find the proper replacement for the naked ball. Realizing that it was probably the OTHER "name-brand, nationwide, big box, pet supply store", we made our way to the exit. Just as we were getting to the door, the (we assume) manager - a guy - stepped up to my wife and asked if we "found everything ok".

Never to miss an opportunity - instead of saying something like "We're just looking", or "We're bringing the dog, next time", or even "No, we're going to the OTHER place", my lovely wife pipes up and says:

"You don't have very good big fuzzy balls..."

Like I said, I MIGHT be wrong about the EXACT wording, but it was close enough to get a funny look from the manager.

Afterwards, we made a hasty exit, and my bride BARELY got outside before having a heart attack and launching into a fit of laughter.

I tell you, it's getting darn near IMPOSSIBLE to take her ANYWHERE! She usually says something like "Open mouth, insert foot", after these incidents, and I add: "...and leg, hip, etc, etc...."

It makes for an interesting trip.

Everywhere we go....

Typewriter Syndrome

2011-03-22T21:07:00.009-05:00

Remember those old fashioned typewriters? You know the kind....

Clack, clack, clack, clackity, clackity, clack, clack.....DING....ZZZZZTTTT....clack, clack, clack......

For those of you under thirty - it's the old, antique way of typing out a letter - and goes WAY back before e-mail - all the way back to the 1990's and beyond.

We're talking ANCIENT stuff here.

Some of these old machines even ran WITHOUT ELECTRICITY. OH, the HUMANITIES! How did people SURVIVE????

Well, the other day, I was out in the barn, with my mind wandering aimlessly (as it does most days), and got to thinking about those old typing machines. It must have been a long winter, because I started to notice that my goats had learned to type.

It was odd, though, they used their MOUTHS, not those two weird looking things they call toes. Nope, they CHOMPED their way through the affair.

The next time you lay your eyes on a goat at the feed trough eating, think about how it resembles one of those old typewriters....

First, put feed in the trough - goats don't do much of ANYTHING without lunch - then watch how they attack the food. One will start to eat, then gobble sideways a couple feet, until the food gets out of reach, then switch back to where they started, and do it over again.

This goes on, over and over until, either the food is gone, or someone else begins to type on their "page".

Gobble, gobble, gobble....DING....ZZZZZTTTT....gobble, gobble, gobble....DING....ZZZZZTTTT....gobble....gobble....gobble....DING.....ZZZZZTTTT....

Like I said, it must have been a long winter, and my mind was wandering.

Maybe I'm spending too much time in the barn....

They're Getting Too Smart...

2011-03-18T07:40:00.003-05:00

The Three Moms are aggravated at me (I know - what's new...). Ever since I started putting Clover in the barn at night, they've been plotting to find a plan to get to her. Well, the other night, they hatched one.

The door on the back of the barn - the one I lead them through on the way to the stanchion - is the way I keep them outside at night. Usually, I "lock" it with a small piece of metal that "hooks" both sides of the door.

I just turn the handle down, and the door is held tight against the jamb. In the morning, I just swivel the hook up a quarter turn and then the door will open.

Of course, there is a matching hook on the outside of the door so I can shut the door, "lock" it, and still get back in from the outside.

Anyhoo, I go out to do chores yesterday morning, and find the door wide open. I KNOW I shut it the night before, so I fear the worst (the gate I have on the inside pen is left open at night, so there is full access to the hay). AMAZINGLY, none of the hay bales were molested. This only means one thing - those bovine critters are getting smart enough to cover their tracks.

When I got to the door, I found the hook had been turned all the way back:

Now, I NEVER turn it this far - mainly because it is VERY stiff, and hard to turn when it gets back that way. There is also a bolt head that sticks out, and is rough to get past sometimes.

I guess a cow's face is a little tougher than my fingers....

Yeah, those cows are getting too smart for their own good. The only explanation for the bales not being molested is they figured there was NO way to blame it on those pesky goats, so they better just stay away from it entirely.

Unbeknownst to them, though, their plot was doomed from the start - I keep Clover in another part of the barn, and they'd need to open ANOTHER gate to let her out - and that one is latched down pretty tight. They could SEE her through the wall, but not get to her.

All-in-all, it was like the old "Mission Impossible" thing - "If caught or killed (read BBQ'ed...), the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions..."

They just calmly stood by the door, acting like nothing had happened....

They still expected grain, though.

Gotta Start 'Em Young...

2011-03-12T10:59:00.003-06:00

Last January 8th (2011), Mabel gave birth to a bouncing baby girl. We waited a few days - and were set back by the weather a few times - then started her "cow" training. We wanted to make SURE she was lead trained like Daisy, and got used to wearing a halter. I modified the small halter we had, but it was a bit too big for her face, so that would have to wait.

We DID have a rope halter to fill in while her face grew into the other one. She didn't much like it - especially when we tied the other end of the rope to a post in the barn. She quickly learned a little detail cows everywhere need to "face" (bad pun)....

The rope always wins - and you're not going to pull down a telephone pole with your face, no matter how much you tug.

In between her halter training sessions, I made sure she was handled and "fondled" as much as possible so she gets used to hands being where she might not want them.

Lately, I've noticed that she has really started to munch on hay along side her three moms, and even will try to snitch some of their food while they are on the stanchion. To that end, I've also been giving her small amounts grain in a dish by herself. She likes it and gobbles it down.

Every morning - weather permitting - Clover and I take a walk up the driveway to the mail box. She HATES to go through the walk door in the barn, but once outside, she follows along like a champ.

It's her moms that go nuts and think I'm stealing their child.

Well, this morning, Clover entered Phase Three of her Cow Training - Stanchion Duty.

It was her first time actually IN the stanchion. I had already drilled a hole for my "stanchion pin" to hold the head stall over so it would be small enough for a goat, so Clover's neck fit right in.

I figured there would be a tug of war between me and a stubborn Cowette, but Clover walked right onto the stand, and stuck her head right in!

Of course, she isn't QUITE ready to be a "Big Girl", but she is learning. It will take time and training - and there will be days she just won't wanna - but she'll come around.

I think she'll make a pretty good milk cow when she grows up.

Grand Theft Auto

2011-03-04T20:15:00.003-06:00

There I was, minding my own business, and my pickup nearly gets stolen right in front of me....

I know, it's a Ford, so I SHOULD be used to people wanting it, but they could at least do it behind my back when I'm not looking. Some people will do just about anything - and some are more bold than others.

It was a "broad daylight" heist, in a fairly crowded parking lot, at the local "farm and feed" type store. I was returning from an auction site, and stopped in to see if I could pick up chicks (the fuzzy yellow kind....).

I browsed around a few minutes, talked to the "chick guy" (the guy in charge of helping guys like me pick up chicks....), talked with a few neighbors I happened to see in the store, then headed out to the truck to finish the trip home - chickless because they didn't get any in like they said they would.

Being totally disappointed, I made my way to the door. On my trip to the front door, I noticed an elderly gentleman (probably a disguise to hide his deviousness), finish at the check-out, and begin wheeling his cart outside. I'd say he was about 20-30 feet ahead of me as the doors zipped shut behind him.

The thing I noticed first was him talking across the lot to a friend of his as he wheeled toward a shiny red Ford pickup in the lot. All of a sudden, it entered my beadie little mind - it was MY PICKUP he was heading to!

There was some doubt at first as to if it was my truck or not - I just couldn't believe what I was seeing, so I thought I was the insane one...However, I came to my senses just in time to see him open the driver side door and begin to empty his cart into the back seat.

The look of confusion that came across his face, when he realized that something was amiss, was priceless. By this time, I had reached earshot distance with him, so I said:

"I can pretty much GUARANTEE your key won't start this truck!"

He looked at me with a startled "hand in the cookie jar" look, mumbled something intelligible, then started to nervously scan the parking lot. It was amazing, but he actually gave a "scared jump" when he finally (after 30-40 seconds of scanning) spotted HIS shiny red Ford pickup, not 10' behind him.

"You can go ahead and drive it, as long as you fill the tank", says I.

"I got enough trouble filling my OWN tank", came the reply.

From 4-5 places around the lot came laughter, as the would-be car thief grabbed his stuff, wheeled around, and headed toward the right vehicle, muttering all the way.

I guess he was embarrassed to get caught - or at least be seen by so many people.

Maybe the experience will help him turn his life around, and get him onto the right path before it's to late.

Stupid Fish....

2011-02-28T10:01:00.003-06:00

....as in: "Dumb Bass".....

Our Mr Genius, Supercat, is at it again. This time, he just got a little impatient, greedy, and too curious at the same time.

Every morning, I go out to the barn to be greeted by the wanna-be Lions. Sometimes, they meet me halfway across the yard, then race to be on the freezer in the feed room when I come through the door. I can hear them drop the 3-4 feet from the rafters and land on the defenseless freezer lid with a loud bang.

I don't know what is is with these creatures, they expect to eat more then twice a week. Every day, there they are, begging for food, and every morning I cave and give them some.

This endless yeowling and panhandling has GOT to stop....

At any rate, I grab some cat food from one of the freezers, and dump it in their pan.

It always reminds me of the referee at a hockey game tossing the puck into the middle of the face-off - those involved are already moving before the puck hits the ice. It's the same with cat food - they start chewing before it hits their lips.

At this point, I return to the freezer and fill a coffee can of dog food for Yani, and take it to her. After that, I'm ready for the Bovine to step up and be fondled.

Well - lately, my lovely wife has been re-arranging our pantry and getting rid of a few older jars of stuff. She came across about a half dozen jars of deer she canned in 2008. Since I'm not real fond of it, it would probably have sat on the shelf for several more years, had she not decided to get rid of it.

So, we slated it to go out to Yani for her suppers.

Yesterday morning is where Mr Genius stepped in.

I fed the cats their food, then opened the jar and dumped Yani's venison into her pan. As I came back through the feed room, I set the empty jar on top of the freezer away from the cats, then went about my milking.

About halfway into the first cow, I began to hear muffled, high pitched, meowing noises. Me, being deaf in one ear could HEAR them, but not distinguish WHERE they came from. Then, I heard a loud "THUNK".

I KNEW where THAT sound came from!

I looked over at the freezer, and spotted IQ Cat standing on his head - up to his shoulders in the jar. He wasn't STUCK in it, he just was stupid enough to get in, and too stupid to get out.

At this point, he flopped the thing over on it's side, and started thrashing about. He was getting dangerously close to the edge, so I had to act fast before I had glass all over the floor, and a bruised Brainiac.

I got there as quick as I could, then grabbed the jar. There was no way I was going to pull a crazed cat out of a fruit jar with bare hands, so I leaned on the glass with an elbow as I put my gloves back on.

I found out during this, that fruit jars act like a magnifying glass - the cat's eyes were - literally - as big as saucers. It was kind a neat effect, but one the cat (I'm sure) would not like to repeat.

Once gloved up, I successfully extradited the furr ball Mensa-member from his glass trap.

He spit, spat, hissed and howled, then ran off into the other part of the barn -
presumably so the other cats wouldn't think he was the stupid one.

It's a pretty sure bet, though....

They already know.

Live, In Concert....

2011-02-23T03:33:00.005-06:00

It's been a rough few days in the barn. Over the last weekend, we began to separate Clover at night so we have some milk in the mornings. This, of course, has led to dissension in the harmony of the barn...

The first night wasn't so bad - little Miss Clover is a gazelle, and hopped the fence to be back with her "moms" - and the free buffet snack bar. Not to be deterred, the next night, I planted the escape artist firmly in the barn.

The next morning, I found that the calf I put into the barn the night before was now a little "horse". Apparently she had hollered enough at night, that her voice was now low and gravely. It went from a kinda nice smooth Mariah Carey to a Barry White, over night.

Another consequence of my actions was the Three Bellering Mommies I found waiting for me the next morning.

I was being called every name they could think of - none of them good - on my way to the barn that morning. They were UPSET at me for locking THEIR child away from them at night. I'd imagine that this loud bellering had taken place most of the night - the goats were speechless and bleary-eyed. They probably gave up telling everyone to shut up long before I came out to feed them. I heard a beller or two from in the house during the night - but we're far enough away that it didn't keep us awake.

I was in trouble before I even left the house, though. The first thing my lovely wife said to me was "SOMETHINGS WRONG WITH THE COWS! They're hollering at something - all THREE of them!"

"Yup", I unconcernedly said.

"Aren't you gonna go check on them?"

"Nope...."

"WHY?"

"I'd imagine when they get their daughter back, they'll quit"

Maybe I should have told her that I was separating them at night.....
Oh well, live and learn.

At any rate, before I milked anybody, I hooked up her "leash" and took my dog out for the morning walk to the mailbox so the mailman wouldn't miss those important letters we had going out.

Clover and I headed up the drive in peace - until we were spotted. Then Holy Heck broke loose. All three moms came trotting across the pen to the fence to see where I was kidnapping their child to.

Twisting, turning, jumping, hollering, evil looks, more evil name calling, and desperate pleas for her return followed us up the drive. Two moms even braved the ice-cold semi-frozen, spring-like thawing creek we have going under the driveway.

Mental note - cows are NOT happy when they have to dip their sensitive toes into ice water before breakfast....

They followed us up the drive, then back down - bellering all the way. Then, they saw me disappear back into the barn - without returning the youngin' to them! Not a happy deal for three over protective mothers.

Clover was returned to her pen while I brought her moms in, one by one, to give up her food while she looked through the gate at us. One thing I now know - cow bellering turns a tin barn into an "amphitheater" when they turn up the volume once they get inside.

The goats, hoping I'd LEAVE the moms at the end of the driveway, started in with their hollerings of "SHUT UP!" and FEED ME!", adding their voices to the symphony.

With all this - Clover as lead singer, The Moms on backing vocals, cats on rhythm, Yani adding some "blues", and the goats filling in the harmony, it was like a concert in there, even the chickens and turkeys chimed in a few times.

They were just vying for top billing, though....

Once everyone was sufficiently fondled and drained, they were turned loose to return to the outside pen to await their child. I can tell a cow's priorities when I see them chomping on hay, while only passively remembering to beller for the baby with their mouth full of food.

I finally let the poor kid out of jail to be reunited with the walking lunchroom. Clover hesitated a second, trotted by me like I wasn't there, then kicked up her heels a few times as she zipped through the barn, and out the back door. She hit Daisy so hard that the impact actually shoved her sideways a step.

I guess the poor child was a BIT hungry.

I grabbed my milk bucket and headed back to the house, suddenly acutely aware that I could actually hear myself think again....

Well, Here You Go...

2011-02-20T19:55:00.009-06:00

My lovely wife is a pretty good hand at buying stuff online (or is that OFF line...?). She gets a lot of her cheese and soap making supplies, books, and even utensils from different places on the "net".

I even get into that once in awhile by getting a few parts, tools, and even a few books now and again. I would like to buy MORE, but you know how it goes sometimes.

Deb recently showed me a place online that has some really cool stuff available - everything from LCD TV stands to hardware, and even tools.

I will admit - shopping at home, on my computer, in my office being bothered by the dog wanting to play, is WAY more enjoyable than travelling out to the mall, or "Big Box" store. Another good thing is that you don't have to fight the "loonies" ("The Loons, Norman, the LOONS......") when you order what you need online.

Ok, the dog is a BIT loony....

Anyway, if you like to shop from the comfort of home, check out CSN Stores - there are over 200 of them to choose from.

Happy shopping!

Walking The Dog

2011-02-16T15:45:00.004-06:00

Since it's been incredibly nice out the past few days - temps in the 50's and 60's - my lovely wife likes to take the two dogs out for a "romp" up the hill and around the hayfield.

These two, especially the Little Red Rocket, just LOVE to zip around the grass and chase whatever (if anything), that pops up. I'm sure at least one of them would like to stay out there for 3-4 hours.

Peaches is always SOOOO happy to be out, tearing through the grass, wandering about aimlessly. She zips to and fro, taking in all the sights, smells and sounds she can, because she knows she'll have to go back inside before long.

Now, I say my WIFE likes to take the dogs out for a romp...

When I want to take the dog for a walk, however, I bring the big guns. I don't mess around with a tiny little Dachshund. NOOOO, I go straight for the gusto:

This is my little "pup", Clover. She's been out "taking walks" with me every day since the weather is warm. She actually LIKES going to the mail box in the mornings (I THINK....). She gets especially excited on the return trip because she knows she's gonna get fed when we get back to the barn.

For the most part, she has learned that "the rope always wins", and has gotten used to being walked around with it. Her face is still a bit small for the halter we have, but it will go on soon. For now, this blue rope halter will have to do.

She has also been getting a bit of "stanchion" training, too, so she'll be ready when she has a little pup to lead train.

So far, everything has been going great but - I DO anticipate a struggle when we graduate to "beg", "sit", and "roll over"

Brick-A-Brac, My ACHING Back....

2011-02-15T19:32:00.004-06:00

If you haven't figured it out by now, I do a LOT of scrounging....

Everything we have started out life as some THING else, some WHERE else. I've never been one to turn down good stuff, just because it was "used". This has earned me praise from some, disdain from others - especially a few family members.

Oh well, though, I've never been one to try keeping up with Mr. Jones, either. I figure I gotta do all I can to lower property values in my area - people just don't understand the money I'm saving them in taxes.....

To that end, yesterday (Monday), I ran across a construction outfit doing a project nearby. I was interested in a couple of packing crates they had so I could make some shelves.

The next thing I knew, the supervisor was asking me if I needed any brick. He told me they had a "few" left over, and couldn't transport them home with them (to Kansas), so they needed them gone.

Never one to turn down free stuff, I told him I'd take them off his hands. He told me to come back on Wednesday and he'd let me know if they were "gettable". Well - this morning (Tuesday) the phone rings. The man on the other end asks if I still wanted that brick. Yes, says I - "Well, come on over" the voice tells me.

So, I gets in my shiny red (but dirty) Ford pickup, and head that way. When I back up to the stack, I see that there a a BIT more than a "few"...

It took us two loads, and most of the day to bring them all home, but there is a nice pile of new brick out by the chicken house that needs built into a smoker for meat.

One at a time, they were unloaded, stacked and counted. I was sure glad when it was over, too. My back is NOT happy, and my hips are pretty mad at me.

There ended up being 4 broken ones, and 781 good bricks.

Now I need a good bricklayer who'll work for food...

I Guess I SHOULD Be Used To It....

2011-02-13T06:46:00.004-06:00

My whole LIFE has been like this.....

First, being the youngest of 5 kids, there was always someone trying to tell me what to do (I was in my 40's before they got the message and quit trying). Then came school, and all them teachers trying to learn me stuff - and grading me on the results. Do this, do that, do it right or we'll keep you around another year so we can do it some more...Not to mention the football, basketball and other coaches telling me what to do.

Then came the US Marine Corps. It was nice when I reached the point where I was the one telling other people what to do, instead of the other way around. It didn't matter though, there was always somebody higher up the food chain that you.

There have been others through out my life who have wrassled with me over what to do and where to go - various jobs, a few customers, relatives, and even a couple friends.

Last night, however, was the last straw....

There we were, sitting in the living room, watching a DVD on the telly. I was minding my own business, paying attention to the good guy cop solving the murder-mystery, when I was pounced on by a little Red Rocket Missile Mutt.

She jumped up my chest, stuck her nose right on the tip of mine, and DEMANDED attention.

I, of course, gave her some attention, which added to her playful mood. My lovely wife recognised the situation, and hit the pause button so I wouldn't miss any critical parts. After a short, 3-4 minute, "play time", my attacker settled down on my chest to just look at me with her ears up.

Then, something out the window caught her eye, so she began to stare out at the blackness of night. It must have been interesting, because she was adamant about staring it down, whatever it was, like a bear.

Thinking that I'd get her out of her stare down with (possibly) her own reflection, I began to make odd-ball noises and started making kissing sounds to her.

That's when she did it - she told me to shut up.

There I was, giving her attention, and she treats me like that.

Right in the middle of the kissing sounds, she breaks away from her engrossing whatever-it-was, gives me a DIRTY look, lifts her hand, puts it on my lips - then goes back to staring out the window.

We couldn't believe what we had just seen. It was one of those "wish I had a video camera" moments. The little mutt. She's getting too big for her britches, for sure.

First goats, cows, and cats, telling me what to do, now the DOG gets in on the act.

I guess I found out I'm lower on the food chain then I thought...

The Stuff Is Like GLUE....

2011-02-12T11:53:00.006-06:00

I'm getting close to the point where I NEED to put the front end together on the Farmall F-20 Project Tractor.

I say NEED because - I NEED to get it rolling so I can clean out the barn when spring does finally arrive for good. It won't be RUNNING, but all four feet have to be under it so it can be moved. The thing about F-20's is - they weigh close to 4500 pounds - just the "chassis" (rear-end, front end, transmission and frame) weigh in at well over a ton and 1/2.

This makes them very stubborn to move without being able to roll them without wheels....

Well, the ONE thing that has been holding me up besides warmer weather so I can "spot paint", is the little "Dust Shield" that goes on the front axle between the front legs. The one I took off was CAKED with 80 year-old mud and crud. Besides, it has mysteriously been torn asunder sometime during it's long lifetime - only about 2/3 of it remains.

I thought about cleaning it up and using it, trying to make one, and trying to BUY one, and even just plain leaving it off. I quickly became convinced I didn't want to use it, I didn't really WANT to make one, and I couldn't afford to buy one, if one could be found.

I didn't REALLY want to leave it off, either - I'm giving the Originality Police enough to lock me up and throw away the key as it is.

Then it occurred to me (actually, it had been gnawing at the back of my brain housing unit for some time, trying to get in, but I was efficient at ignoring it) - I have the old front end that came with the tractor, why not take the one from it?

It had been ignored for good reason. It's a ROYAL Pain in the you-know-what, to get that thing off of that shaft - you need to take apart the ENTIRE thing to get at a stupid piece of tin.

OK, I couldn't stand it any longer, so I went out today and just decided to take the thing off. My project was nearly halted before it was begun, though - water had seeped under the door of the barn, and had frozen the thing to the floor.

Not to be deterred, I grabbed a nearby 8' piece of pipe, and leveraged it (rather easily...) from it's icy bed. After removing the three or four parts that need taken off, the hard part began. I don't know what kind of lubricant they used in the 1930's, but that stuff is like TAR when it's cold out (and even when it's warm). It will stick ANYTHING together like Superglue.

It's the "Tarhesion" effect.....and aggravates old iron addicts world wide. It causes two parts to "bond" together, forming one fused piece. Mix a little "crud" in with it, and you have something that a chisel has trouble with.

I like to cal it "Tin-Crud-Chi" - the metal and crud have found their "Inner Chi", and become "one" with each other....

There was no way I was even going to try and lift the whole front end off of the ground, so I chained it to the door post, then used a "come-along" to PRY the shaft out of the casting. I was actually amazed at how well it worked. Of course, it DID help that one of the front rims was still in good enough shape to help things "roll" apart.

In about 45 minutes, I had the shaft out, and the dust cover ready to come off - except for the front rims. I still had to remove one rim, and loosen the other so my prize could slide by.

Now came the REALLY hard part - cleaning the dust cover and removing the "Crustation" that had built up over the years. A little soaking, a LOT of scraping, and chiseling, then a wire wheel treatment, and I FINALLY had something I could primer. Here it is beside the "old" cover.

In the end, I did a lot of work, for not much gain. Oh well, it needed done, and at least I can go ahead to the next item on the list....

Con Artist....

2011-02-07T12:27:00.004-06:00

Every morning and afternoon, I head out to the barn to do the milking. I take a stainless steel milk pail with me, that is pretty easy for the bovine to spot from a good distance away. They also hear the filter/strainer that I have on the top, clanging around to announce my trek to the barn.

Cows can HEAR supper time.....

They have learned and adapted enough to associate the sight and sounds of that bucket with food. All I need do is open the back door, and rattle that bucket, and those greedy cows start heading for the barn door and the milking stand - or, rather - the feed pan.

Of course, at least ONE of the cows has other ways of detecting me. On several occasions, I've noticed that Daisy will be watching for me to come out the back door. This usually happens when I'm a little bit late, and she's hungry. The thing is, though, she's never SURE its time to be fed until she sees or hears that bucket. Then she KNOWS it's time for food.

Envision Snoopy and his "happy dance" at suppertime....

Awhile back, I made the mistake of giving Peaches a little milk fresh from the cow. I really didn't have much choice, though, the jar was full and I still had about a 1/2 cup left over. I figured she'd enjoy it.

Yup, she did.

Now, the little con artist sees me come in the door with that pail, does a little "happy dance" of her own, and zips to the kitchen in hopes of getting some.

The first thing she does, is stand up on her hind feet, tap my leg with her fingers, and look up at me with that" PLEASE - give me some, or I'll DIE", look. The sad "cry" whining she does is just for added "effect"....

Then she stands up and begs for it:

I'm a sucker for a pretty face - especially one who has that sad, puppy dog look in her eyes...

So, yeah, I cave.

She sees me get the yellow dish out of the cabinet, and goes into a different "happy dance" - now one of expectation, instead of just hoping. I swear, her tongue is working before the dish even hits the floor.

Autumn, during this whole affair, just sits idly by, letting Peaches do all the work. She's MORE than happy to share in the "spoils", though - and Peaches lets her.

Peaches's evil plan doesn't work all of the time but, like I said, I'm a sucker.

She's so all fired up about that pail, maybe I should try teaching her to go get the milk herself, and bring it to ME.

The Differences Between Cats and Dogs...

2011-02-04T12:21:00.003-06:00

This morning dawned nice, cold, and sunny. It was 11°, but it didn't FEEL that cold. As I milked the cows, I contemplated what tractor parts I could clean up next. It's still too cold to do much in the barn with the sand blaster, so it had to be small stuff I could take inside to clean. I settled on two small covers, and a retaining ring from the engine block.

All three pieces were caked with a nasty, black, oily, muck. Wire brushing just kind of smeared things around, and didn't do much. I had had them soaking in a pan of diesel for a few days - most of the stuff came off, but the rest was hanging on for dear life.

From past experience, I had learned that the "electrolysis solution" worked well in cleaning rust off parts with electricity - AND - it worked pretty good at cleaning "muck" from parts without electricity.

The only trouble was - it is still around freezing out there, and the stuff works WAY better when hot (or at least - warm).

So, I gets the bright idea to put the three small parts in a 2 gallon bucket, and bring them into the house. Along with the parts, I added about 1/4 cup of Arm & Hammer "Super Washing Soda", and a "squirt" of Dawn dish washing soap.

I let the water run nice and long to get it good and hot, filled my bucket, then left it in the deep sink in the laundry room.

My memory fades now, but I THINK it was only about 10 or fifteen minutes later when my lovely wife comes storming onto the back porch where I was working and wanted to know what "that AWFUL smell" was.

Me, being a guy, had NO CLUE what "awful" smell she was talking about. I held a tractor part out that I had primered a couple of hours before that for her "sniff test". She took in the aroma of fresh primer, and announced - "Possibly....".

I figured that the ordeal was over.

Not so, oh scent challenged one.....

A few minutes later, she asked AGAIN - with hands on hips while standing in the laundry room doorway - "WHAT IS THAT SMELL?"

I sucked in a good, deep breath through my nostrils, took both hands and wrangled my nose around good, then, using the knuckles on each index finger, "popped" both sides of my schnoz - all to "clear the air" so I'd get a good "intake" for identification purposes.

After "readjusting" my face a few times, I walked into the laundry room, concentrated heavily, and drew in several deep draws through my honker......

"WHAT smell?", asked I, " I don't smell a THING!"

By now my wife was reeling around, close to passing out, and had the neck of her shirt pulled up over her nose. She looked like an outlaw from the old west.

"Youf donmf smell thaf?", came the muffled response from her blouse.

"I don't smell a THING", I repeated.

I figured I better find the source soon, before she had me moving furniture or something, so I redoubled my efforts.

My first thought was the sink drain trap I had cleaned out earlier but, sadly, it was not the cause.

"It smells like GAS!" my wife exclaimed as she came up from her blouse for air, "and it's coming from THIS room, not the porch!" OK, this eliminated the primer...
The room was abuzz, the dogs were hid, and The Outlaw was poised to "shoot" me if I didn't think of something quick.

That's when I remembered the parts in the bucket. I went to the sink, grabbed the handle, and lifted the small bucket toward my wife's delicate nasal cavities...

"I DON'T NEED TO STICK MY NOSE IN IT!", came her reply, "Just get rid of it!"

So I quickly scrubbed and rinsed my parts, emptied the bucket, dried the parts, and set the empty bucket out on the porch.

Having never smelled the offending odor, I figured the ordeal was - FINALLY - over.

*SIGH*

All of a sudden, my wife comes in from the porch where she had been working and exclaims "NOW that smell is out HERE!"

I guess I'm gonna have to put that empty bucket outside...

Just shoot me now.....

The Cold Is Getting To Me...

2011-02-02T11:14:00.004-06:00

It's been kinda cold outside for the past few days - especially the last two. Snow is blowing around, temps around zero, wind chills -15°, and drifts across the driveway (I had fun "exploding" one this morning with the pickup...).

Cold air makes the mind.....

...oh yeah, wander...

The first thing I had to do this morning was a little Science experiment from way back in my grade school days at the one-room country schoolhouse. This was back before kids (and parents) complained about it being too cold or too hot to attend school. If it was hot, you opened the windows, if it was cold, you stood by the heater to get warm -

- and did "cold weather experiments".

One of the experiments we did was to boil water on the heat stove (OOOOH, exciting...), then go outside and toss it in the air (such daredevils, we). It might not SOUND like fun but it was kinda neat to see what happened.

First of all, the air temperature has to be below 0°F to make everything work properly. Second, the water has to be BOILING. Things will WORK if these two things aren't EXACT, but they work BETTER if they are.

Since this morning was about -2°, I decided to re-do the experiment. It's simple, just run outside with the boiling water, and throw it into the air. I will INSTANTLY turn to "snow" and fall back to earth.

I know, my wife was summarily impressed, too....

Hey, it's winter, it's cold, and I have to do SOMETHING to keep my insanity.

While doing chores this morning, I came across a couple things that needed simple words to describe them, but none really existed. The first one developed when I could not move a gate because one of the Bovine had decided to leave a "Poocano" in the way last night.

For those of you who don't know what a "Poocano" is, here goes:

Poocano - noun - only takes place in cold weather, at or below 0°F. Occurs when a member of the Bovine species relieves themselves while standing in one spot. This effect in turn, causes a cone to form with "steam" raising out of the top. Appears to be a miniature volcano.

This leads to the formation of another phenomenon - the Turdburg.

Turdburg - noun - what happens when a Poocano becomes extinct (should that be "exSTINKED"...?). Caused by sub-zero temperatures. This results in a structure harder than steel, that is usually frozen to the ground - and to an adjoining gate. The bane of bovine handlers in cold climates the world over.

Another one I've seen this winter -

Catcicle - noun - frozen cat. Usually caused by said cat being too stupid to burrow into hay during freezing weather. Results in a nifty centerpiece or doorstop, but only if kept frozen.

Other variations include: Cowcicle, Goatcicle, Horsecicle, etc, etc - none of which you want to see - and they DO NOT make good doorstops...

Another thing I've learned this winter - even below 0°F, good, pure, liquid molasses does not freeze. I've been calling it "Molastoscity", and it sure comes in handy. I've also found that the dry molasses freezes into an unusable, rock-hard brick at about 25°.

One of these days, spring will arrive, and I won't have to worry about any of these things.

Until NEXT winter...

Wat's Wrong With This Picture?

2011-02-01T10:43:00.003-06:00

Ok, THESE pictures...

Lets see if you can guess. Here's the first one:

I know, most of you are gonna say the "odd man" out is the thing. While that IS odd, and Stew DOES think he's a goat, that's not what I'm looking for. Stew spent the last couple of days hanging out with the rest of the bovine, but decided that he liked it in with his goat buddies better. Maybe it's easier to get more food, I dunno.

It could be he's the "big" guy on the block in the goat pen, but gets shoved around by the three momma cows when he's in with them.

Stew has an ego....who woulda thunk.

Look closer - see that?

There are at least TWO goats without food in their mouths! THAT almost NEVER happens in front of a fresh bale. It must be the cold weather. With wind chills below zero, I decided to feed them inside the barn (another oddity, BTW...). This just proves that, not matter WHAT you set out for the goats to eat, somebody is always on the lookout for bigger and BETTER things.

I do think Stew is resigned to being a goat. Two days ago, after FINALLY, finding the gate - that has been open for the past two weeks - between the goats and the cows, he showed up in with his mom, Mabel, and Honey. He had been watching the goats go through every day, and Clover would come harass him, but he was too STEW-pid to go through. After two days of "bovine living" he decided that it was better on the "dark side", and was waiting at the gate in the barn last night. When I opened it, he calmly walked through, and up to the other gate that would lead him back to his goat quarters.

Let's try another photo:

This is Peaches. I busted her on my desk this morning. Evidently, she hopped into my chair, then up to the desk top, and started her "snoop patrol". Hard telling what mischief she might have caused, had I not caught her.

Now that she's figured out she CAN get there, it might be rough keeping her off.

Have you figured out what is wrong with it yet?

Ok, I'll guess I'll have to tell you.

The strange thing about this whole photo is that there is enough ROOM ON MY DESK for her to jump up there! It's a good thing I cleaned it yesterday, or she wouldn't have had a place to go.

I guess I need more stuff.....

Another "Half Baked" Story....

2011-01-19T13:18:00.007-06:00

You SHOULD be getting used to them by now...

Yesterday was a busy day on the Hillbilly Hill Farm. We had cow troubles, a run to pick up a few things, then a run to town, and some other stuff thrown in besides. All through this, my lovely wife decided she needed to grind wheat for homemade bread flour.

She'd run the crank for awhile, then do some other things, run the crank for awhile, do some more stuff, grind for a bit, etc, etc (her right arm is getting to look like Awwnuld's). It took a good part of the day, but she got her flour done so she could have homemade whole wheat bread today.

This morning, she was out in the kitchen by 7:15, mixing up bread dough and getting it ready to work with this afternoon.

As you know, once you get the dough mixed up, then you have to let it "rise" awhile. To do this, she normally puts it in the oven with just the oven light on. The heat from the bulb is enough to raise the dough in the small oven space.

The "oven light" reminds me of another story where my sister accidentally pulled the oven CLEANING handle instead of the light switch. No one knows WHY, but it happened - we had steaks in the broiler, and the oven wouldn't shut off, nor would the door open. It was a frantic few minutes before we figured out what to do to save supper - and we have a good laugh whenever we remember it.

Well - we got a good laugh this afternoon, too. Deb goes out to the kitchen about noon, and puts some chicken in the oven to bake for lunch. When the timer goes off, she announces that lunch "should be done".

Ten seconds later the dogs and I are headed to the back door when we hear "DANG IT!", "RATS" and - my personal favorite - "CRAPAZOID" coming from the kitchen. The three of us were half way to the door (because we didn't know if it was one of us who was in trouble....), when the terse language was replaced by laughter.

We cautiously tipped-toed back in to see what was the matter. Deb met me in the kitchen door way and said "you'll NEVER guess what I did!".

"Hmmmmm.....forgot to light the oven?"

"Nope"

"Turned it on too low or too high?"

"Nope"

"You lit the oven and forgot to put the food in?"

"Nope"

All of the above had happened before (the famous "Meat Slop" incident comes to mind...), so it wasn't that far of a stretch to have them happen again.

It was time to think outside the box, and Deb was laughing hysterically, so I knew it had to be serious.

"You put lunch in the dishwasher instead of the oven, right?"

I got a dirty look on that one, but now it's in her head, so who knows...? She HAS been known to try to put refrigerated items away in the pantry.

"Go look in the oven", she says, through the tears.

At this point, the situation is still jumbled in my head, but is becoming clearer now that I remember seeing her working with dough when I came in from the morning milking today.

I crept over, opened the oven door a crack and peered in....

I had envisions of carnage, but all I saw was a pie-plate with chicken in it, and one BIG round loaf of bread.

Evidently, she forgot the dough was in the oven raising when she turned the temp up to 425° to cook the chicken.....

What we had was a nice looking loaf, about 12" round, and 8" deep, cooked in an ungreased steel pan. We ended up cutting it loose with a frosting knife, and dumping it out of the bowl. It LOOKED good, but looks CAN be deceiving.

It was a nice, golden brown color on the top, and cooked to perfection - for about 1 1/2" all the way around. The middle was still raw and cold.

Even the dogs were mystified. I looked them in the eyes and said: "Yup, guys....just when you THINK you've seen it all, mom does something new." Both of them barked and sneezed in agreement.

After eating a few pieces of what we could, we managed to scoop out the raw center as much as possible, and dump it in a bread pan. It might not work like it should - or LOOK like it should, but we're gonna try it anyhow - the chickens aren't going to have ALL the good out of this event.

Deb called it her "Half-baked, Whole-wheat, Moron Bread" (on a side note, she had to ask how to spell "moron"....). She says she's willing to share the recipe with anyone who is willing to have a go at it.

If the loaf turns out at all, we'll have a "Twice Baked" ending to a "Half Baked" story.

Payback .....

2011-01-18T07:42:00.003-06:00

For awhile now, those whining, sniveling little goats have been complaining to me (and anyone else within earshot), that the cows have been stealing their food. I've even caught Daisy snitching some through the fence that the unsuspecting goats had mistakenly scattered hay too close to - to a cow (or goat, for that matter...), if it's in reach, it's far game.

For the most part, Stew has been adopted to the point HE even thinks he's a goat. He muscles his way in at the grain feeder, plays "head butt", and even has been seen with his front feet up on a gate in the barn, waiting for me to head his way with a bucket.

I KNOW he didn't pick THAT up without a little help from his goat buddies....

Naturally, those pesky goats think ANY food is theirs, so they complain louder and louder with every passing morsel that goes to someone else. The other day, I had them lined up on the fence by the barn, screaming at me because the cows were getting something THEY weren't. What was this "tasty morsel" the bovine got that the goats didn't?

I was forking some loose - used - bedding out of the barn and into a pile. The pigs with horns figured it was food, so they should get it, not the cows.

I guess they finally got someone to cave to their whims (me). A couple days ago, I decided that, since the cows were being slow at eating the round bale I have set out for them (they like the nice fine-stemmed hay from our pasture better), it was going to waste.

I opened the walk-through gate between the two pens, and let the "rat pack" through. They must have been eyeing that bale, because they made a beeline straight to it, and began their attack in earnest. Maybe it was just a way to get away from Stew...

At any rate, they dove on top of their prey like starving Wildebeests, and began to divide and conquer.

Of course, being a "hay affectionado", Jane Doe decided to start where the hay was the best - right in the center of the bale. She came around to this side after trenching into the other end up to her belly. I guess she couldn't stuff herself in any further, so decided to start fresh on the other end.

The cows DID protest - a little - but I think it was just for show to make the goats THINK they were pulling a fast one. Since the goats are digging into the big bale, the cows get their hay from the barn.

It's a trade-off the cows are happy to live with.

CALPC Strikes AGAIN....

2011-01-15T11:42:00.004-06:00

It's a debilitating disease - or more of an ADDICTION, really - that once it strikes, there is no known cure.

CALPC - Cows Are Like Potato Chips (you can't have just one...), strikes thousands of Americans on a yearly basis. Since there is no cure, the only thing to be done with a "victim" is to remove the ability to feed it (the addiction, not the cow....well ok, maybe both) - mainly - let them buy the cow, then they don't have any money left to buy more.

What is needed, is a program for Cowaholics - maybe "CA" - because all of us so afflicted are always wondering where our next cow is, and how we can get it. The only thing standing in the way of many CALPC "sufferers" and their next cow is their bank account. Since most victim's money also suffers from a crippling disease - Financial Aids - most people with CALPC suffer in tense silence - trying to wrangle a way to fund a cow purchase (second mortgage, sell a kid, get rid of the wife's car, shutting off the electricity, etc, etc...).

Unfortunately for most, they are well past this point and need to resort to desperate measures, maybe even renting out the house and living in the barn (with the cows). Lucky for me, my wife is also stricken, but she has a "milder" case then I do. I - so far - have managed to hide it fairly well - even convincing her SHE wanted a cow for her last birthday.

Well, a few weeks ago neither of us could stand it any longer - we had sold our last "beef" cow, and started looking for another Jersey milk cow. We already had Mabel, the one-teated cow who had just given birth, and Daisy, the baby stealing, boss cow. We named Mabel's new baby girl "Clover", and started thinking about adding a new cow.

Yesterday, we made a trip to a dairy not far from here, and "hemmed and hawed" over milk cows (while drooling shamelessly). After much thought, gnashing of cud, and a second mortgage, we brought home a new cow to fondle.

We've decided to name her "Honey" - short for "Honeysuckle" (in keeping with "flower" names...). I was really amazed and impressed at how gentle she is and easy to work with. Her surroundings are new, she's not been hand milked before, and I'm pretty strange looking, too.

It took a bit last night (30 minutes), but she got onto a stand, stuck her head through the head stall, and let me milk her without a fight or even much of a "fidget". This morning, she walked right to the stand, and put her head through in just a couple of minutes. She'll take some working with, but she is way ahead of the "curve" already.

I'd like a dozen cows just like her....

My wife's car is looking awful vulnerable....

I Doubt The Other Eight Would Have Made A Difference...

2011-01-12T11:52:00.004-06:00

We've gone through a few cats around Hillbilly Hill over the years. Some come in as strays, some come in from family members, and some from friends.

The way they LEAVE also is quite variable.

We've had death by goat-stomping, dog attack, "thwacking", the occasional .22 round, and even stupidity. There have also been some who just plain disappeared.

We lost one batch of cats because they were born in July, and hadn't quite figured out how to survive in winter. The morning I found the first one, frozen stiff, in the middle of the barn floor, I figured it was an isolated incident. Little did I know, that a few days later, I'd find three more of the furry little geniuses curled up in a little frozen ball out in the open - just mere feet away from a stack of nice, warm hay they could have burrowed into.

Of course - burrowing into the hay has it's hazards, too. One winter, I found a "cat-cicle" laying on top of two bales - kind of across the gap between them. Unfortunately, that poor sod froze to death while blocking the escape of the two "smarter" kitties who had burrowed beneath it. By the time I found them, it was done too late...

We've even had attempted lynchings. Several of our kittens ganged up on one of their siblings, and tried to hang her. It was only shear luck that I ran across the gang during the commission of the crime, and saved the poor girl. Here is the story from a past entry: Kitty Mafia

Granted, what I'm about to write has nothing whatsoever to do with the Mob (I think they've long since moved on...), but it has everything to do with stupidity.

One of the kittens we brought home this last fall wasn't thinking too straight. I noticed something wrong when I broke out the food that morning - we were one cat short at the feed pan. I took note of it, but there ain't a whole lot to be done about a missing cat, so I continued on about my business.

It was only after the goats had been fed, and the cows had been milked that I headed to the cow pen in the barn to clean out the "over night muck" the bovine seem so glad to make, that I found the body...

There it lay, in the middle of the cow pen - flatter than the proverbial one-sided pancake. The thing about a cow is, while they might be nice and toasty warm, they also weigh a TAD bit more than a cat. If you're gonna snuggle up to one, be sure you sleep with one eye open so you can dart the instant you feel it move.

I remember when my mom owned a bakery in our town. She had a nice 6" rolling pin that was about 20" long (I still have it in my attic...) that she used to roll out doughnut dough. I can still hear that dough "pop" and "smack" as it flattened out.

One only imagines what the cat heard when the cows played "rolling pin" on her. It is most assured, though, that the feline had the life steam rolled out of her that night - and the offending cow probably didn't hear a thing, nor even notice what had transpired.

The poor kitty looked like it had been run through one of those wringers from an antique washing machine. I suspect that every bone in it's body was broken in at least three places.

One thing IS certain, though, even if the cat had cashed in the other eight lives, it wouldn't have made a difference.

When a cow presses your shirt, you want to make sure you're not still in it....

Those Cell Phone Will Be The Death Of Us All...

2011-01-08T15:15:00.003-06:00

I went to a funeral this morning. My cousin had died earlier in the week, and everyone was gathered to celebrate her life and say goodbye.

It was a short, friendly, caring service with lots of family and friends. I took a seat next to another cousin and my two Aunts.

Things were going along well when, all of a sudden, my cell phone began to ring. I THOUGHT I had turned it off, but - evidently - I hit the button too many times, and it came back on. At any rate, the small chapel was awash in a LOUD rock and roll serenade from my phone. I couldn't answer it, so I put it under my leg to kill the sound until it stopped it's noise and I could make SURE it was off.

My two Aunts, my cousin and a few others gave me "dirty" looks, and I sat a little lower in the pew.

Everything was fine - for a couple of minutes until music filled the air AGAIN. Everyone looked right at ME, but this time, I was innocent. The phone kept ringing until my cousin realized it was HER phone. It made me feel a little better knowing that I wasn't the only one who got evil looks from people.

My cousin told me that "her kids must have turned it back on". I told her they must have messed with MINE, too.

I remember going to a funeral a few years ago. It was a nice summer day, and about 100 people were standing in and around the tent at the graveside service. The preacher was just getting wound up, and into his "Ashes, to Ashes....", speech when IT happened....

Everyone within earshot (meaning ALL of us) hear a telephone ring. Not a mechanical ring like everyone is used to, but an old-time actual RING, like telephones USED to sound like. This first ring was kind of low and subdued - nothing too special, just loud enough to be heard.

The odd thing was - nobody moved to answer it.

Then it happened again , and a third time - each time a little louder...

ring...

Ring...

RING...

On the second ring, the owner - a tall man in a dark blue suit - began to fumble in his pockets to shut the thing up. By this time, everyone, including the preacher and the dearly departed's family - had taken notice of who the offending noise belonged to.

It wasn't until after the third - LOUD - ring had transpired when the owner managed to grab his phone from the outside pocket of his suit coat. By then, it was too late - he was definitely DOOMED.

Apparently, his phone was programed with one of those "special" rings - a "custom" one that changed a little with each "ring".

This became WIDELY known in the following few seconds as he fumbled in vain to shut the thing off. As if the first three rings were bad enough, with their heightening crescendo of telephony, it was the fourth, and final, "ring" that got everyone's attention.

The air was still, the crowd was silent, the preacher was speaking softly, when out of the clear, soft breeze came the following:

ring....

Ring...

RING...

Then, a LOUD Drill Instructor voice saying:

ANSWER THE GOD**** PHONE!!!"

I just hope the dearly departed had a sense of humor...

Who's Your Momma....

2011-01-07T12:06:00.003-06:00

Well, our "Big Event" here on the Hillbilly Hill Ranch this week, was Mabel giving birth to a nice little heifer.

Let the trouble begin...

The first thing that happened was that Mabel was having trouble with edema swelling her udder to EXTREME size. She is SOOO big that it is hard for her to walk - and even harder for the calf to get to the nipple - Mabel's teats are only 3-4" off the ground.

We've been treating her for the swelling, and trying to get as much milk out of her as possible. It's gonna be a bit before she is back to "normal".

Meanwhile, SOMEBODY has to feed the rugrat...

I took the first go-round. We stuffed the critter full of colostrum we had saved when Daisy calved. We saved it "just in case" since we new Mabel didn't have the best of "bags".

Right after the bottle was finished, I had a little four-legged shadow following me around thinking I was mom. When it came time to get fed again, Deb got to hold the bottle. I did all the "hard" work - by getting the calf to know the bottle meant food, so Deb didn't have to shove it down it's throat. All she had to do was hold it still and the calf knew what needed to be done. Her AIM wasn't always that great, but she KNEW what to do.

Afterword, DEB had the shadow following her around for awhile....

From the beginning (maybe even a little before), Daisy has been convinced it was HER calf. Daisy came to us after being used as a "nurse" cow. Now, she thinks that ALL babies are hers to take care of. Last summer, she would try to chase the goat mommas off, and feed their kids.

I'm convinced that she'd try to nurse the baby chickens - if she could figure out how to do it....

There she was, minding her own business (and trying to steal the calf), when I shoved her out of the gate, and shut it behind her. Mabel and baby on one side - Daisy on the other. It was NOT a pleasant ordeal for at least ONE of the participants.

Daisy began pacing up and down the fence, calling to "her" child who, being a confused youngin' - went over to her....Thus began the "Momma Tug of War" in the calf's mind. Here were not one, but FOUR people acting like "mom".

Mabel, for her part, keeps calling the calf, but I think she'd be happy to have somebody else take care of her. Deb likes to feed her, but wants Mabel to do the feeding. I like feeding her, but want ANYBODY else to do the job.

Daisy just wants to steal her.

She just MIGHT get her wish, but we'll have to wait and see. In the mean time. We have to put up with Daisy, and her "Mad Cow" disease...

THEY'RE AFTER ME.....!

2010-12-31T06:59:00.004-06:00

I can hear the sirens (ok, in my head...) -

WHOOOO, WHAAA, WHOOOO, WHAAA, WHOOOO, WHAAA......!

HELP! IT'S THE ORIGINALITY POLICE!!!!

I found that the shifter handle on my Farmall F-20 has somehow managed to end up getting bent (I found this out AFTER I painted it, of course), so I began the search for a "new" one. Amongst the "rubble" of the nearby farmstead, there is the remains of an old Farmall "Regular" - and it had a gearshift handle sticking out of it. The Regular is the precursor of the F-20, so I had high hopes.

Two bolts, and it was MINE (insert sleazy, covetous laugh...)! I couldn't wait to get it home and compare it with my bent one. It was a little rusty from sitting outside all those years, but I can handle rust. After removing the "spring, washer, and cup", I had the "bare" handle to set beside the bent one.

It LOOKED the same, but was about 3" longer than the damaged one. About an hour later, I got an e-mail from a friend who had compared part numbers. He said that it would work, but those OP guys would have a "field day" (bad pun - sorry...) with it.

I've been to a few tractor shows over the years (although it took me several years to get to the one 12 miles from our house...). It's always funny to watch - and listen to - self proclaimed "experts" in the "field" (ok - another bad pun...).

I mean, there will be guys going over each machine until they FIND a fatal flaw in it's "originality".

"Well Ralph, the guy did a FAIR job on his restoration - BUT - you see that washer under that fender bolt? NO WAY that thing is original"

"Yeah, Wayne, I saw that. It's a crying SHAME, too. Some people just have NO respect...."

Meanwhile, the poor owner as been milling about, and over hears every word the two "cops" have said. Now he's scarred for life, and just wishes the show were over so he can crawl back under his rock and search for that elusive correct washer. His only hope is that someone will take pity on his soul, and let him redeem himself by offering to send him one from 200 miles away for just shipping and a "handling fee".

It's only AFTER the guy has spent $45 on the stupid washer, that he finds green paint on the bottom side, and learns it's from a John Deere - and he has an International Harvestor....

Now THAT can never happen, so the search begins again. He MUST find the correct piece - or risk having to either be shamed again at the show, or leave his tractor home.

After months of searching, hours of lost sleep, too much coffee (cream, two sugars...), lack of food, pulling out his hair, wearing the same clothes for weeks, not showering, never shaving (ok, I do this one...), racking up phone bills, loosing his job, becoming a hermit of Howard Hughes' porportions, spending more time with his tractor then his family, sending hundreds of e-mails, hogging the computer, and missing several family functions, he finds some guy in Nova Scotia who has the same tractor he has - and he has a SPARE WASHER!

Of course, now he has to pay "overseas shipping", extra "handling fees", and insurance.....

This is where the wife leaves him and takes the kids with her.

At least he has that washer, so now he can enjoy life.....

Until he finds out his wife wants the tractor as part of the divorce....

Oh well, she ends up with everything, so the straight jacket won't clash with his wardrobe.

Now, If I Just Had A Horse...

2010-12-31T00:10:00.003-06:00

....And the hay to feed it.

I suppose a mule would work, or even a - God forbid - Donkey (if I HAD to). Whatever it would be, it would just be nice to be broke to harness. It would also be nice if it was a NON picky eater, and ate like a bird.

At any rate, I've seen a few horse drawn implements hanging about lately, so figured I'd drag some of them home.

Today, since it was in the 50's, was a good day to start. I met a friend of mine over at an old farmstead a few miles from here, and he helped load some "odds and ends". The first thing that caught my eye was an old buggy running gear.

This is actually just the front half of it - the rear half is still at the other farmstead. The main reason for this is a certain tree that reached out and grabbed the axle. It has pulled it off the ground about 2 feet, but the tree itself is only about 5" across. It will be easy to get it out, we just didn't have a saw.

The next thing I drug home is a horse drawn Cultivator. It's the kind where the "operator" rides by standing with their feet in "stirrups on the rear of the machine. It takes a bit of practice, but once you master it, you have it for life.

It's missing a couple of handles and a couple of "shoes" but isn't that far from being usable. It's amazing how these things from that long ago hold up through time.

It's also amazing how small these items are.

I still have to get a few more things - like an old Lister (Planter) that is horse drawn, and a couple of other things. There is also a lot of just "scrap" laying around all over the place. The lady who owns it is just glad that someone wants to clean it up for her.

I just can't wait until I get my Mule (or horse, or cow, or goats, or...), hitch it up to the buggy, and ride into town.

I'll make sure to put a nice "Hillbilly" hat on WHATEVER is pulling the thing...

Hot Off The Griddle....

2010-12-27T15:18:00.003-06:00

Who whoulda thunk that all those years I spent testing different materials would ever pay off in the "real" world.

Last Friday, a friend brought over a small pressurized sand blaster he had in his barn. It will come in handy for working on the Farmall F-20 this winter. There are LOTS of hard to get at places that a brush and sandpaper just won't work. I just have to hook the thing up, and go to town with it.

Sort of.

Naturally, the first thing I needed to do was change the air fitting to one that matches my hoses - and not lose the one he had on there so I can put it back.

The next thing I needed was "blasting media" (i.e. - SAND), since the thing was empty. Me, being the cheapskate that I am - needed to figure out something that didn't take a lot of cash.

Enter those materials testing skills....

One of the first thing I ever tested was aggregate for road construction. We'd go out to the plant, swipe some material off the belt, then take it back to our lab for testing and number crunching.

The first thing we'd do is weight the sample and then pop it into an oven to dry. Once all the moisture was gone, then more weighing and more testing - and -

Sieving.

This was a process of "sifting" the materials through a set of different size screens so we could find out how much of each size of material was in the sample.

For my use, I didn't care how much the stuff weighed, or how much of each size we had. I just wanted to screen it so it was small enough to run through the sand blaster. I figured that "window screen" size would work the best.

So, there I was, cooking sand on the wood stove of the shop, while I was cleaning up in there. I needed to clean up anyway, so I could make some things I needed to make about 8 years ago...but THAT is another story.

I found a couple of old bread pans, a tin bread box, and an old skillet. I had HOPED for a couple cake pans, but I couldn't sneak them out of the house....(only kidding, Dear - I didn't even THINK of it).

After heating up real good, I made sure to stir the sand several times to make sure all the moisture was gone. Then, it was time for a cool down and sifting. I didn't have time to do a LOT, but I ended up using an old kitchen sifter to screen it.

I figured out that about 1/3 of this gravel is small enough to use with this blaster. It took me about 10 minutes to sift a big coffee can full. It's not as easy as going to the store and buying some media, but it sure is cheaper! The wood stove was going anyway, and it didn't take very long to sift it down.

The plan is, to fill 2-3 five gallon buckets with the sieved sand before I start using it. It won't last FOREVER, but it will do quite a lot.

Let's see, for 3 buckets of media, I'll need 9 buckets of gravel...

I better get digging.

Dancing With The Steers....

2010-12-24T19:34:00.005-06:00

After chores this morning, I took care of a couple things in the barn, then headed inside for breakfast. Everyone outside was happily munching away when I left, and all was peaceful. Things were about to change.

I guess, since it was a - relatively - nice day out, and the 4 inches of forecast snow went somewhere else, the inhabitants of the barnyard decided to celebrate by having a little "fun".

Evidently, the goats drew lots, and Carmel won (or maybe ....lost....) the chance to be on "Dancing With The Steers". Since the only "steer" we have is Stew, he was elected.

I guess I shouldn't have figured that things could run smoothly on their own for the half hour I was gone. Probably the minute I was out of sight, the fun began. At any rate, I was headed back out to the barn when I looked over to see what I THOUGHT was Stew and an unknown goat "duking" it out, I stepped back inside to grab my camera, and continued on out to see what was going on.

When I got to the barnyard, I found that Carmel and Stew were dancing - cheek to cheek, so I snapped a couple photos.

Everyone else - including Yani, the LGD - were just sitting there, watching the proceedings. It was almost like they were tranquilized - or maybe just enjoying the show.

Meanwhile, the two dancing partners had stopped for a well deserved rest. Stew must have been exhausted, because he was resting his chin on Carmel's head.

It was after a closer inspection that I found the two participants had been "drafted", and hooked together so they HAD to dance.

More than likely, the goats were having "fun" at Stew's expense, and Carmel ended up with the short straw.

I ended the fun by removing Stew's halter (which sent him running and kicking up his heels to the far corner of the barnyard...). Carmel, for her part, went back to her "clan" and received quiet "High Twos" (goat version of "High Five"....), and there were "goat snickers" all around.

The lengths some people will go to, to get cheap entertainment on a boring winter day.

Jealousy And The Spoiled Rotten Goats

2010-12-23T10:44:00.003-06:00

Yesterday - before I took my smelly boots on a road trip - I had started re-arranging things in the barn so Mabel could have a nice, out of the weather spot to have her calf.

Mostly, this entailed moving a few odds and ends, building a "fence" and gate, and getting all the old hay and straw off of the floor.

When I got back home - and after lunch - I headed on out to finish. I moved a few boards, then I grabbed my Cob Fork to get the loose stuff off of the floor. Everything was nice and loose, so it moved pretty easily.

**NOTE** A "Cob Fork" is NOT one of those fancy little things people stick in the ends of corn on the cob, it is a big "pitch fork" looking thing, with several tines that are close together. The whole thing is shaped like a "grain scoop" with a long handle so you can dig into a pile of cobs. It's easier to use than a shovel because the tines let it go into the pile better, but you can still scoop a good bit out.

Anyway, back to the story -

There I was, sliding the Cob Fork along the floor, steering the hay toward the back door, and the hill beyond. I was able to slide it out of the door, give the handle a "flick" and the hay would scatter in the breeze to cover the slope.

Of course, this got everyone's attention. The cows came to see if they could get in the back door, and the goats came to see if free food was being handed out.

The bovine quickly learned that it was a false alarm, and I wasn't letting them in, so they returned to munching on a flake of alfalfa they had from earlier. The goats, however, don't give up so easily.

In the first place, they cry and moan about that "Big Goat" they have to put up with. All I hear is "He eats all the food!", "He's a PIG!", etc, etc....

WAAAAAA! WAAAAA! WAAAAA! That's all I hear.

Well, I REALLY got an earful this time! There I was, tossing hay out to those COWS and wasn't giving the goats any! Little did they know, it was sweepings from the floor - all they saw was "food".

They all lined up on the fence to beg for handouts. There they were, acting like it was the end of the world, and they were about to starve, when - not 50 feet away, there was about HALF of the bale they got earlier - just laying there. Even Stew (the "Big Goat") was ignoring it. He probably wondered what the commotion was all about.

Finally, I couldn't stand it any more, so I caved and brought out another bale. I split this one, and made sure the goats got theirs first, and didn't see me give the rest to Mabel and Daisy.

THAT would have just upset them further....

And I can't stand to see (hear) a grown goat cry...

Little Did I Know...

2010-12-22T21:17:00.003-06:00

I had to go into town today. It was an "emergency" run to the grocery store to pick up a certain spice the Head Chef needed for a dish she was making. I'm usually game for trying any new food she comes up with, so I dropped what I was doing (getting the barn ready for Mabel to calve), and headed on in.

I got to the grocery store (the only one in town), and found it to be a rather bustling place. I assume it was all those people doing a bit of "last minute" food shopping for the holiday this weekend. The placed wasn't PACKED, but it was busy.

As I made my way to the spices, I could hear a lady talking about how her son was coming home from college in Colorado (I guess it will be his first trip home since last MAY). Then there was another woman who was getting a few things so she could make a pie to take to her daughter's house in Lincoln on Saturday (the daughter has a REALLY small house and - if everyone shows up - somebody is gonna have to eat outside...).

A couple of people were talking about how they'd be glad when it all was over (and their kids went back home before they ate everything in sight).

Well, I just selected my spice, and headed up to check out and stood in line. There were two ladies just finishing up checking out (a mother-daughter tag team), a local beef farmer, and elderly man, myself, and another farmer behind me.

The mother-daughter team decided that AFTER they had paid would be a good time to check the list to see if they had forgotten anything, so the rest of us were in limbo.

All of a sudden, the daughter made a funny face and exclaimed "WHAT is that SMELL?"

At this point, everyone looked around, sniffed the air, and tried to identify what it was and - more importantly - WHERE IT WAS COMING FROM.

The farmer behind me pointed a finger at the cow guy and asked "Is that YOU, Bill?"

"Aw, (Heck), Mike, I had to run to town real quick, and threw on the muck boots from the barn, they must have some "mud" on 'em."

"Well, you shoulda known better, Bill. That smell is gonna kill us all."

A couple other people joined in the fray to give Bill a hard time about "eye's watering", "sinus's cleared out", and "I can't breathe". Bill couldn't wait to get out of dodge.

The Tag Team decided to clear out, Bill paid for his things, and the rest of us only had a couple items each, so we all were gone before the smell done kilt us.

I only had one other stop to make - my lovely wife needed a small calender for her office, so I headed for the discount dollar store.

Once inside, I quickly made my way to the calenders, and sorted through them to pick out one I knew Deb would like. From there, it was a short walk up to the cashier, where I found I was second in line to an elderly woman who was nearly finished.

I had managed to arrive in line just before two other people. As I stood there, waiting for the checker, I started thinking about the grocery store. I laughed to myself about poor old Bill, and the "mud" on his boots. The memory was so vivid, I could SWEAR I could even still smell that odor.

THAT'S when I heard it - the lady next in line made an awful face and said "WHAT is that SMELL"?

At that point, I was glad I only had one item and things were going along quickly.

I had to get MY boots out to fresh air, before the smell kilt ME....

Yup. Poor old Bill. He'll never know that he took all that embarrassment and ridicule for someones else's BS....er ...

Never mind.

Somebody's Messing With My Mind...

2010-12-21T05:03:00.003-06:00

Granted, it ain't THAT hard to do, but REALLY...

I have been working on and off at finishing up with the small parts on the Farmall F-20. Nothing major, just a few pieces here and there. Mostly, I run them through a wire brush and clean them up real good in the barn, then bring them onto the porch to paint and dry.

One of the things from the original tractor that was broken was the seat spring. On these machines, that consists of a coiled spring made from 3/8" steel. The whole thing is about 6" tall and 2 inches wide.

Since it was broken, I needed to find another. The friend who gave me the tractor, told me to take the one off of his "parts" tractor. So, there we were, braving the cold wind on a Sunday afternoon in November, getting the spring and a few more parts off his machine.

We gathered up all the bolts, nuts, washers and - of course - my "prize" seat spring (amazing how simple things can bring so much joy...), and tossed everything into a small, one gallon plastic bucket.

I drove home with my pile of parts, and unloaded them from the truck.

Fast forward three days. I wanted to work at cleaning the seat spring, so I went out to the barn to collect it (and a few other small parts). No big deal, I'd just go grab it, and the bucket from off the bench, and bring it on in....

No big deal...

Except that the bucket was NOT ON the bench! I looked on, behind (although the bench is against the wall...), under, beside, and around the work bench, but it just wasn't there. Reasoning that I had left it in the truck, I even searched THERE.

Nope.

Time was getting short (and it was getting dark), so I abandoned the search until the next day, and the next, and the next, and....you get the idea.

That stupid bucket had run off and hid good. I even interrogated the cats, but they weren't talking. The search was widened out to include shelves in the back of the barn, shelves in the milk room, shelves in the feed room, on top, behind and under my hay baler, in the hay stack (those cats will do anything...). I even searched the shop, and CHICKEN HOUSE (you just never know what those chickens are capable of....).

It was a daily ritual, go to the barn, look everywhere because I might have missed someplace the day before, tour around the barn, in case I left it outside, and even search the pickup again in case I was sitting on it and didn't know, etc, etc.

I was beginning to think I had left it at my friend's house when I got the parts. I could envision it sitting out there, freezing in the cold, wind, and snow.

Then again, I could also envision it sitting on the work bench....

This went on for over two WEEKS. That *#^<* bucket was around somewhere, and I HAD to find it. I was gong crazy(er) trying to find it. The cats would scatter every time I mentioned the ordeal, for fear their situation might escalate to some form of water boarding or something.

Then, one day last week, I was out on the back porch messing with some other stuff when I noticed Peaches, our 4 1/2 month old Dachshund, with her hands on the rim of a 1 gallon plastic bucket, and her head stretched down inside to see what was in there.

I bet you can guess what was inside....

Yup. The seat spring and all the other stuff I had been searching for for all that time. The bad thing is, the bucket was in PLAIN sight - I had walked by it a couple hundred times during the course of my intrepid search. It was INCHES away from where I put on my coat every time I went out the door (several times a day). I had to have even KICKED the thing a few times on my way out.

To my credit, there was a part of a paper towel inside, on top of the parts, so if I even saw the bucket, the towel would have partially obscured the parts.

Hey, it's a feeble excuse - I know - but it's all I got.....

OUTTA MY WAY!

2010-12-17T12:05:00.003-06:00

Old Daisy Mae got what was coming to her last night....

Normally, when "breakfast" or "supper" time rolls around, Miss Daisy is waiting by the back door of the barn. As the door opens, the impatient Bovine runs through the opening, squishing everything and everyone in it's path - and trots through the passage way to get to the stanchion to feed her face.

After the stampede, Mabel, waddles her fat, pregnant belly through the door way, then stops to eat from the dish I have waiting for her. I try to get myself in position between the stampeding and the waddling, in order to close a gate between the two.

This gate is designed to prevent Miss Waddles from getting into the hay stash after she finishes her food.

Then, Miss Stampede will finish HER food (and being milked), let me exit the milk room first, follow me to the aforementioned gate, and allow me to open it. Waddles, on the other hand, sees me coming, and SLOOOWWWWLLLLY backs down the passage (even though she COULD turn around...), and out of the door.

It's an easy trot from there for Miss Super-Sonic to follow Mabel's lead - and go outside.

Unfortunately, there is one TINY spot that a cow can fit her nose through and snag a MICROSCOPIC mouthful of hay.

This always causes Daisy's nose to become glued to the spot. It usually takes me 2-3 minutes to unhitch her face from the ground, and get her moving toward the door again.

It's a twice a day ritual around here - "Cow with face glued to ground" vs "Hillbilly with a stick". She CAN'T be getting enough hay to make it worth the effort to stop, so she HAS to be doing it to irritate me.

Well - last night, Daisy got her "comeuppance"....

It all started yesterday morning when we looked out the window and saw Mabel and Daisy doing a "chicken dance" with each other. They would walk around in circles with their noses glued to the other's hind end, then try to "mount" each other.

It was decided that Daisy was "in heat".

The kicker was seeing Mabel get her fat baby-belly off of the ground and wrap her arms around Daisy's midsection. Daisy just stood there, so we knew something had to be done.

Enter, Ann, the AI Tech....

Ann arrived about sundown. I opened the back door, and the Ballistic Bovine zoomed through the barn because she thought she was going to get fed. Little did she know, we had other plans.

Although Daisy DID get fed, she had to pay for it. Ann put on her hip waders and shoulder gloves, and proceeded to do "the deed".

For some reason, Daisy wasn't as hungry anymore....

We let her stand in the stanchion for awhile, to let the "swimmers" swim, then let her go.

Instead of waiting for me to open the gate, she RAN to it before I got there. Mabel had started her waddle toward the outside, but wasn't moving fast enough. I opened the gate and Daisy tried to run poor old Miss Waddle over, trying to escape.

And the "glue spot" wasn't even THOUGHT of on her way out....

Maybe I should have gotten Ann to leave her cap or something. That way, the next time Daisy starts to glue her nose to the floor, I can bring out the cap, and it will remind her of the night she was "violated", and she'll run for freedom.

If only....

An Admission...

2010-12-15T11:47:00.005-06:00

Winter is (almost) here by the calender. Since the weather usually never actually FOLLOWS the calender, it has started to turn cold early.

Now, in a "normal" year, this would not be a problem. THIS year, however, it poses a severe medical problem for me - one with no known cure.

I am here to stand up and say - Hi, my name is Scrounger, and I'm a Farmallaholic....

I have a severe case, too - my addiction goes back to childhood. I THOUGHT I had it under control. I hadn't been bothered by it in years. Oh, there was an occasional "flair up", but I was able to control myself (ok LACK OF FUNDS controlled it for me...).

Then IT happened.

A Farmall F-20 showed up in my driveway. It was in pieces, but that didn't matter. It might of actually FUELED me to work on it because it WAS such a daunting task. To make matters worse, it was a later model, one that came from the factory painted (my favorite color) Farmall RED.

Not that I would have turned it down if it were the older "Battleship" Grey IH had used before then - until they found out Red sells better. I'm still on the lookout for an older McCormick-Deering machine I can play with.....I mean WORK on.

The way I see it, if it was grey, then it would help me "ease out" of my addiction, and get back to "normal". So you see, I NEED a grey tractor to help me recover.

This is how "bad" I've become:

Freshly painted parts on the back porch. These are actually dry so I COULD take them out and put them on the shelf beside the rest of them. But then they'd be COLD....and they look so pretty where they are. Besides, I have to protect them from those evil cats.

To make it even WORSE - these are some I painted this morning, hanging from my wife's soap drying rack on the porch (ok, I'm not THAT far gone - I painted them outside, then brought them in to dry....):

At least I haven't kicked the soap off.....yet.

PLEASE, before I get into real trouble -

Somebody send me a grey tractor before I do something stupid....

A Cold And BLUSTERY Day

2010-12-11T10:46:00.008-06:00

It was nice this week - high temps mainly in the upper 40's, lows in the twenties. Thursday and Friday, we had highs in the 50's and even lower 60's!

That came to an abrupt halt this morning.

Around 4:00 am, it was nice outside - light winds, 45° - but it would soon change. By 7:00 am, the cold north wind was howling at about 30mph, and the temp had dropped into the 20's. By 11:00 am, it was 15° and wind chills in the 5 to 10 below range.

What a difference a day (or night...) makes! I was out in the barn in a sweat shirt, working around on a few things, marveling at how nice it was. It LOOKED cold, but was still in the 50's at 9:00 pm.

This morning, the wind was tossing around a bird feeder by the kitchen window so much that it was hitting the glass. I got out some wire, a screw, and proceeded to "lash" it down so it wouldn't swing so wild. When I came in the house, Peaches, met me at the door. She looked up at me with a worried look on her face as if to say " Yeah, dummy, it's cold outside and you VOLUNTEERED to be out in it..."

More like FORCED.....

Oh well, it was a productive week before the weather hit. Our Blind Angus bull is no longer walking around in circles in the pasture - he's safely camped out in the freezer. It took us all of Wednesday, most of Thursday, and a little of Friday to finally get all of him in, but the freezer is full of dead cow and dead deer.

A friend came over Wednesday to help kill/hoist, and skin "Chuck", but had to leave after we got the meat into the house.

I keep things like the tongue, tail, heart, kidneys, and testicles (where applicable...). Deb doesn't like much of any of them (and won't touch the "oysters"), so more for me!

All I know is - Yani, the cats, chickens, and possibly a few coyotes (if they can dig them out of a brush pile), are a pretty satisfied bunch right now. There were plenty of bones, fat, "innards", skin, and hooves, to feed an army of critters for a long time.

As for the fence, we still need ditch crossings and gates for the line fence, then cross fencing. I managed to find some more woven and barb wire for free, but still need more. So far, we've used two NEW rolls of barb wire on the line fence - both of which we bought years ago when it was still $35 a roll - now it's $65 or more.

I even managed to paint a few F-20 parts this week! OK, so FOUR parts isn't a LOT, but it still counts as progress! It's getting too cold to paint now, anyhow. I might have to move some smaller parts into my shop and light the stove so I can get SOMETHING done on the beast this winter. The main frame will (most likely) have to wait for warmer temps, but I can at least get some small items done.

Come on, SPRING!

A - DOOR- able

2010-12-05T10:20:00.003-06:00

This past week, we've had a slave...er....VOLUNTEER helping us on the farm to get a few things done before winter and other upcoming things. The biggest thing was getting some of the line fence done around the farm. We have had most of the POSTS in for about 2 1/2 years, but the neighbor's cows didn't have to fight wire to come on our place....

Ryan (the slave) actually volunteered to come up from his home in Central Missouri to lend a hand. No questions asked, now payment request - just good old-fashioned help.
He pulled into our driveway at about noon on Tuesday, and departed at 4:15 Saturday afternoon.

In between, we got a lot done (him doing most of the hard work....).

We put in 13 corner braces, about 1100' of woven wire, then three strands of barb above that. The first thing he did was to dig four big post holes by hand (since we couldn't get the tractor in there), then pounded in a few steel posts, just to get warmed up. Here it was, 28°, a northwest wind blowing at around 20 mph - and Ryan was down to his shirt sleeves because he was sweating too much! Of course, we were down in a "hole", surrounded by trees, so the wind wasn't bad there.

The worst thing was having to lug those 4 heavy Hedge posts across the ditch and up the other side...Those things are NOT light. We (he) finished just in time to go milk the cow (ok, I milked the cow, but he got in there and got a squirt, or two out of her, too).

By Friday afternoon, we had all the fence wire done, except for the 4 ditch crossings that we'll need to do in the spring.

Fencing being done, we headed to the next project - cutting some Cedar trees down around a brush pile, so I can burn it when there is snow on the ground. I can't crawl around on the ground very much any more, so Ryan ran the saw, and I pointed out which tree to cut next.

I could get used to this kind of work....

We got enough down to clear a big area around the pile, then headed into the house to plan what to do next.

This is where things got "dicey".....

The plan was, to open the garage door on the barn (since it was stuck half way), get my Farmall F-20 inside, then close the door. Things were working great, until it came time to close the door. It stopped half way down (again), so Ryan climbed into it to see if his body weight could bring it down.

Well - it brought it down alright - right down on top of us! Luckily, it was just the top two sections that came out of the track and "folded" down right over us - we both escaped without a scratch..

I had actually been planning for months to replace the door, so I knew how I wanted it done, but I didn't think I'd be replacing it THIS week! I had materials to build the doors, but no HINGES to hang them on!

Anyhoo - we just unhooked the rest of the door, slung a chain around it, hooked it up to the loader, and drug the whole thing outta there. About a minute later, we were pulling out pieces of wood, the saw, and bolts, and getting ready to build a new one.

It got dark before we got too far along, but we at least had a plan of action for Saturday morning. The FIRST thing we needed to do was go to town and buy hinges....

Saturday dawned cold and windy but - luckily - the wind was from the north, so the barn blocked it. It was actually fairly warm out there, especially with the bright sunshine. The doors went together well (and amazingly QUICK), and we even had time to do a few other small things before Ryan had to leave. Here is what we ended up with:

There are actually 4 doors. I wanted to be able to open the top two in the summer so light could get in, and be able to leave the bottom doors closed so a cow or goat couldn't get out if they were in the barn.

At least I SHOULDN'T have to worry about these falling on my head....

....and they add to the "hillbilly" decor of the barn....

Cat Door

2010-11-19T12:28:00.002-06:00

Ever since we started milking goats, and then cows, there has always been the problem of keeping the pesky cats from "tickling" or otherwise bothering the goat/cow.

Just having them walk across the floor withing eye shot is sometimes enough to make the critter being milked start shuffling. This does not bode well when said critter's hind foot comes into contact with the milk pail...

I even have one cat who likes to sneak up beside the cow, then jump between the cow's fat belly, and the stand next to the cow - through a gap of about 3 inches. The resulting brush of the cow's fat midsection tends to startle the cow, causing the hind leg to move.

At the LEAST, this causes the Hillbilly to have a minor heart attack, because he THINKS the cow is going to kick the bucket. Four things can happen in this situation - none of them good -

(1) The cow kicks the bucket, spilling the milk. This causes angst when the Hillbilly's wife has less milk to make butter from. Not Good.

(2) The HILLBILLY "Kicks the Bucket". This is because he knows the wife wants more butter, and has a coronary at the slightest hint of spilled milk. Hillbilly is doomed.

(3) The COW "Kicks the Bucket" because the Hillbilly is startled, too. Cow has a coronary because she thinks something is "after" her. DEFINITELY not good.

(4) CAT "Kicks the Bucket" because Hillbilly chases her down and beats her with a stick for causing so much pain and anguish. Could actually be a GOOD thing....

I've tried stick pokes, yelling, the dog, chasing, and even flights on "Air Kitty". Nothing seems to work for very long (cats, apparently, have short memories...).

Last week, I decided to take a different, more "progressive" approach - I made a "Cat Door" to the milk room. It's nothing more than a piece of 1/2" OSB that I set in the doorway when I'm milking, but the cats seem to respect it. At least, nobody has come around (or over) it so far.

I know, I know - cats can climb. Well, I have a solution to that. Here's a photo of the other side, the side where the cats stay:

I Figure, if those cats are too stupid to read English (or at least good at FAKING it), then they'd be able to understand "Universal" signage.

Cats are shifty, so you have to stoop to their level.

Now, they have NO excuses for coming in and bothering the cow....

How To Torture A Cow

2010-11-11T20:23:00.004-06:00

It is - apparently - getting on towards winter around here. All the critters are whining about having enough to eat.

Of course, they do THAT right after they stuff their faces, too, not matter the time of year.

Well, this morning, I bribed Mabel and Daisy with a flake of Alfalfa, and snookered them into the small pen by the barn. They thought they were getting treats - until the gate slammed shut behind them. That's when they realized something was "up".

They watched intently as I backed the trailer up to the gate into the other pen (the one I just chased them out of...), and rolled off a large round bale. The alfalfa helped, but they wanted to tear into that nice, fresh bale, just out of their reach. They grumbled, snorted, stamped their feet, and even moo'ed loudly - all to no avail - the bale was on the wrong side of the fence.

There it was, sitting patiently in it's little ring, waiting for them to molest it, but they were trapped behind a fence.

Oh, the evil stares I got!

It was a matter of so close, and yet, so far.

When I DID open the gate, the two obstinate bovine just stared at me as if to say "FINE! We DON'T WANT it anymore!" Of course, they gave in and trotted (ran) over to "partake".

They were MUCH happier this afternoon, since they spent the day munching away at the poor bale. Hopefully, it will last them for at least 3 weeks.

After all that, we went to another town for awhile today. I'm at a loss for words over this guy we saw riding a bicycle through town:

And it's not even a full moon.........

In Sink....

2010-11-03T08:07:00.004-05:00

Can anyone tell me why ANYONE would WANT to be a plumber?

I mean, it's a dirty, wet, smelly, nasty job - and you have to do it standing on your head. It's one of those things I avoid like the plague, especially since I'm not good at standing on my head anymore, and everything I do takes a lot longer then it used to.

No need to prolong the agony.

It seems like, every time I do any kind of plumbing, I get it all put together, and there is this tiny little leak that REFUSES to go away. I end up fighting the "Post Install Drip" for what seems like hours, usually making it worse as I go along.

Well, I can tell you this, I messed up a few weeks ago (ok three or four MONTHS ago...), when I spotted a nice sink and metal base that someone had thrown away. I HAD designs on using it outside but my wife looked at it and decided that she wanted the sink in the kitchen. That's when I knew I was in trouble.

She (nor I) could believe that someone had gotten rid of the thing. It was a NICE, double sink with a side board on each end. The best part was, it was one of those older metal ones covered in porcelain. Her mom has one like it, but not in nearly as good of shape.

The sink came complete with bails and baskets, but the base was missing one drawer. The only thing missing from the sink was the faucet. She decided that she only wanted the sink, so now, I'm left with a "topless" sink base to wonder about what to do with...I'll think of something.

Yesterday, my avoidance came to a screeching halt - deer season is coming up, and she wanted her new sink before we had butchering to do. I was doomed.

Between the two of us, we managed to get the counters and the new sink ready to go in. Luckily, the sink and countertops we installed six years ago are "temporary", so nothing was screwed down - everything just came apart with ease (since the new "modified" stuff is also "temporary" - it ain't fastened down neither...).

A little measuring, a little sawing, and a little gnashing of teeth, and the new sink fit into place.

It was getting close to milking time (ok, 2 hours away...), so I TRIED to use that excuse to stop. I was, however, foiled - I had to push on and do the plumbing.

Did I mentioned I was doomed?

Well, at least most of the work I could do from the top, with Deb holding the sink up. I used long lines when I installed the first sink so I was able to do this. Just tip the sink up, and have at it. The worse part was having to sit on the floor, put together the drain pipes -

and watch them drip.

It took - literally - until the cows came home, for me to get that *#@^&* thing to stop leaking. I DID finally, but it was past time to milk, and the Moo-Moo's were waiting at the door for supper. All-in-all, it took about 6 hours to do an install that I USED to be able to do - drips and all - in about 2. I'm not actually DONE yet, I still have to shim one side to make it level, so I guess I'm still on the clock.

I still, for the life of me, cannot figure out why anybody (in their right mind) would actually WANT to do this kind of work for a living. Another thing I can never understand about plumbers....

Why don't any of them wear a belt?

Dead Cat Walking..........

2010-10-25T11:41:00.005-05:00

Have I ever mentioned that cats are evil creatures, bent on world domination? They've done some nasty, vile stuff before, but THIS takes the cake:

If you look close, you will see some "spots" on the surface of my nice, freshly painted, 1937 Farmall F-20 Bell Housing. These spots look suspiciously like CAT PRINTS.

I have a John Deere fan loose in the barn!

(Ok, maybe a CAT fan....)

Whoever it was, I better not find out - I'll spray paint THEM red! Maybe I'll just shave an IH logo on their back (maybe both....). I know one thing - they sure are lucky they waited until the paint was dry. I can wipe these paw prints off, if it had been wet, they'd been IN the paint, instead of ON it.

It would have made finding the culprit easier, though, I could have looked for red feet....

As it is now, I might have to call in the cops to take "finger" prints, and track the perp down. Only thing is - jail is too good for THIS criminal. Another bad thing is, these little varmints are good at acting innocent. Not FIVE minutes after I find the crime, every one of the little *#@^+* so-and-so's is lined up by the cow, expecting fresh milk!

Not one SHRED of remorse in the lot!

Well, I can tell you this - NONE of them got milk on THIS particular morning......

....and it's gonna be a LONG while before I forget enough to give them any.

I'VE BEEN STRAFED!

2010-10-21T09:43:00.003-05:00

I SWEAR they do these type of things on purpose.....

Usually, I'm able to go about my business in the barn without having to hit the deck and fear for my life - usually.

This summer's hay harvest was a good one, more then we've had in the barn by a LONG shot. It's stacked floor to ceiling in there, and twice as deep, then any previous year. Of course, we have more hungry critters then normal, too. Since the hungriest of those critters are the two milk cows - and the "snooker" fence doesn't go to the end of the bales - they have a "hay" day when they come in for breakfast and supper.

On normal days, one heads for the stanchion (usually Daisy because she feels it's her "right" to go first....), and the other (usually Mabel because she is big, pregnant, and slow....), heads for a pan I have by the haystack. If said pan is empty, then the evil bovine will molest the hay stack. If it is full, then their face is occupied long enough to milk the other.

Since I have dried up Mabel, this works pretty well. I can feed both at the same time, and get done a lot faster. Of course, Mabel finishes before I do, so I need to run her back outside before she gets into the hay. She has that stack so afraid, I can almost see it shiver when she gets close.

No, REALLY.

This morning, I go out to chase Mabel out the front door of the barn, and I look up and see a couple bales MOVING. I finish getting the cow out the door and then go investigate.

THAT was my FIRST mistake....

By now the bale had quit shaking, so I was able to sneak up on it. I got right up to where my face was just about even with the bottom of the bale.

Second mistake...

Just as I got to where I could see good, the hen who was sitting behind the bale decided that she'd had enough and came SCREAMING out from her nest - heading right for my face. It was all I could do to get out of the way before I was eating feathers. I managed to grab at thin air - and the loose bale - and fell, flailing onto the floor.

To add insult to injury, the stupid hen RAN ME OVER on her way out of the barn!

There I was, laying on the floor in a heap of hay, with a bale on my chest, thinking about getting the name of the F-18 pilot who just tried to kill me. Talk about "shock and awe", I was definitely in shock, and I was saying awe "Shucks"...

I got to my feet, came to my senses, grabbed the bale and started to put it back to where it was.

That's when I remembered something about fighter pilots - they always have a Wingman.

I clambered up the stack, bale in tow, to find a good sized Americauna Rooster waiting for his turn at a sneak attack. Even though I saw him coming, it was still a little nerve wracking when he came flying at me.

I did manage to get the bale back where it belonged. I was also glad I got through the ordeal without needing to change any clothing, too.

From now on though, I plan on being armed with an anti "aircraft" weapon of some sort......

FINALLY Done....

2010-10-05T21:29:00.003-05:00

It's been a long, hectic few days, but we finally got all of this years hay in the barn!

The saga started last summer when we decided to add some fertilizer to the hayfield. Not much, but things needed and added "boost". We also "over seeded" with a few seeds to thicken things up.

This spring, we could see the Red Clover coming in in several spots that we broadcast it onto the stand. It mixed in with the cool season grasses nicely. Normally, we get right at 100 small square bales from our little 7 acre patch on the first cutting. This is all of the fine stemmed grasses that the goats love so much. We NORMALLY get it cut and baled mid June.

Due to the wet weather this year, it was mid JULY before we got it taken care of. It also came in at 200 bales. It was QUITE a difference in yield.

Then, we waited for the grass to grow again, and the weather to hold so we could do a second cutting. Rain in the latter part of July, rain during most of August, and even rain in September, kept us from getting to it. This last week, the weather finally decided to cooperate enough for harvest to begin, and to allow us to mow hay.

Things were humming along nicely, up until I was about 2/3 done mowing. That's when my tractor decided to burn up a condenser and fry the points. It was dead in the field.

I went into town to buy the parts, but the one they sold me was the wrong one - and the replacement was the wrong one. Even the one we waited overnight to be shipped in was - you guessed it - the wrong one. After three days of waiting, I couldn't afford to wait any longer, so I travelled to a bigger city to buy the correct part.

Meanwhile, a friend lent me his tractor to finish baling what I had cut. Without that, I don't know WHAT we would have done.

It sure saved our hide on this - and is VERY much appreciated.

We ended up bringing in 220 bales from a little over 2/3 of the field.

On Sunday, I got my tractor back together, and cut what was left, then baled it today. There were 66 more bales out there, so our grand total for the summer is: 486 bales, over double our yearly total.

The cows and goats should be well fed this coming winter. We also secured 4 1200# round bales, just in case.

I enjoy putting up hay - the raking and baling parts - but I don't care too much for the picking up and stacking.

That's why I threaten to BBQ both Bovine milkers. The first thing they did when they came inside was - not go and EAT on the stack - but to go and RUB THEIR EVIL LITTLE NECKS ON THE STACK! I haven't extended the "snooker fence" out yet, so they can get up to the hay. I'll need to do it SOON, though....

I doubt I can get THEM to re-stack it....

Electrolysis...

2010-09-29T01:44:00.006-05:00

It's been a few years, but I've experimented this week with something that I haven't done in awhile.

Back when I worked at a Materials and Research Lab, we used Electrolysis for several different things during specific testing we would do on different materials. We had a lab full of nifty "apparatus" to have ALL kinds of fun with - well SOME fun, some BORING.

Well, over the last few years, I've been meaning to try removing rust on old tractor parts with the process. I've seen several places online that have had great success with using it to clean things, but I've never really had the time - or the parts - to work with it.

That changed when the 1937 Farmall F-20 arrived - there are PLENTY of rusty parts that need cleaning.

I got the whole mess hooked up and turned on - and it didn't work. My Battery charger is a nifty new digital one that has a "check" mode on it. It basically checks the condition of the battery you want charged, then decides if it is worthy of being charged - if not - no juice.

Unfortunately, I didn't discover this until the part had soaked overnight.

It was decided that I had to "fool" my charger into thinking it was still working on a battery, instead of cleaning a rusty part. I had to install a 12 volt battery between the charger and the part so it would read it, and move out of "check" mode, and into "charge" mode.

As soon as I did that, things happened fast - I had the first part in the tank for only 6 hours, and it came pretty clean.

Before -

After -

If I would have left it in a few more hours, it would have been COMPLETELY clean, but I got impatient. I'll hit it with a light sanding, and it will be ready for prime/paint.

I've got bigger "fish" in the tank now - the air intake manifold. It will take several hours to clean, but I can't wait to see the results.

One of these days (hopefully), I'll get ALL the tractor back to red again. There is several years of rust to get rid of before that, though...

Bovine Two-Step

2010-09-25T19:57:00.002-05:00

Lately, the cows have been coming up with new, different and exciting was of pushing my buttons.

First - Stew, decided to climb the fence to steal mom's milk, and drain her for the morning milking. I never did find the spot where he escaped, but he was out with Daisy the next morning. After that, I decided that he could spend the night in the barn.

This made for very unhappy cows, which gives them time, opportunity, and MOTIVE to dream up things to annoy the Hillbilly.

Yesterday, I separated Stew in the afternoon, and put him in with Belle, in the other pasture. Mom and Mabel were out in the driveway, chewing things I already had mowed. Daisy went back to the barn for a drink, and Mabel opened the gate and snuck into Belle's pasture to feed Stew.

I guess Daisy was the decoy....

I couldn't get Mabel to come in, so she missed supper last night. This morning, she was waiting at the gate to make SURE she didn't miss breakfast.

Today, we get a phone call at about 3:00 pm. It was a neighbor telling me that his wife spotted two cows out on walk about down the road north of our driveway.

Naturally, it was raining....

I got to the road and found that the two wayward bovine had broken a couple of wires and squeezed out between a panel and a post. I spotted them about 300 yards down the hill towards the creek, happily munching on grass.

I zoomed on by so I could turn the truck around in a field entrance, and headed back to where the girls were. They saw me and - oddly enough - started heading back up the hill.

Things were going fine until they came to a field entrance to a neighbor's corn. I figured they'd grab the opportunity to indulge themselves in the corn - especially when they turned the corner, and headed on in.

This made me get out in the rain and herd them back to the road. Luckily, they only made it into the field, but not to the corn. They knew they were had, so they trudged on up the hill toward our drive. I got them turned into the driveway and headed toward the barn. Of course, when I opened the lower gate to drive through, Mabel decided to make her move, and headed for the gate - and freedom in the front yard.

I think she was actually amazed that I cut her of at the pass, and closed the gate in her face.

I got things patched up, and the escapees back to where they belonged, just as the rain quit.

Intermingled with this - over the past few days these two con artists have been coming up with new ways to mooch cookies. They finish their food, then stand there, refusing to leave until they get goodies. Then they stop after turning around, to wait for cookies, THEN, they expect them when they leave the milk room.

Daisy also has decided that she wants to take her time exiting the barn - she'll take two steps, then fidget, scratch, or sling her head after flies - even if they aren't there. It's amazing - she comes RUNNING in to eat, but refuses to exit - even with me poking her.

It's two steps and a swat, two steps and a swat, two steps and a swat.....

The whole routine reminds me of that song by Lynyrd Skynyrd.....

Gimme THREE steps, gimme three steps, gimme three steps toward the door.....

If ONLY....

Kids Are Kids....

2010-09-24T09:39:00.003-05:00

There are things that kids do, regardless of what species they are. They jump around, break things, stick things in their mouths that they shouldn't, and have their favorite toy - among other things.

I've had goats play "slippery-slide" with a tarp, cats swatting the cow's tail while she eats (resulting in the cow stamping and kicking the milk bucket - which resulted in a flight on "Air Kitty".....), chickens sneaking up behind me, then cut loose with a crow at the top of their lungs...

I've even had a cow get her head caught in a door that swings one way, so she could stretch her neck into the freeze where I keep the "cookies". I purposely made the door swing like that, so it wouldn't swing into the room. I never thought I would NEED to put stops on it, but I guess I do.

It would also help if I remembered to close the lid on the freezer to prevent the "nosey neighbor" from trying to sneak a treat....

The nine cats we have all gather around when I'm milking. I guess they EXPECT handouts. One, the momma cat (Sugar) will go just out of reach and tickle the cow's belly (on purpose) when she gets impatient. This causes the cow to react, and more Air Kitty flights. Then, they all see me get up from milking and crowd around the pan so I can't even dump the milk in.

It doesn't help a cat's complexion when you give them a milk bath - it just makes them wet. It IS, however, nifty to see them cleaning each other off afterword. They all gather round in a pile and have a "lick fest".

We found out the other day, that Peaches is just like a people kid in a lot of ways. awake when she needs to be a sleep, asleep when you want her to be awake, two o'clock feedings (and trips outside), 4 am feedings (and trips outside), etc, etc, etc.

We've also found out she LOVES bubble gum. Not the chewy stuff, but the flavor. After Autumn chowed down on her face, the Doctor gave her some Amoxicillian that is bubble gum flavored - and heavily scented - and Peaches can't get enough of it. I'm sure she wishes it were a bigger dose.

All we need do is open the bottle cap, and her nose starts going a mile a minute. She lunges out for the syringe, and happily takes all we give her.

I'm just waiting for her to learn to blow bubbles.

She's TRYING To Get Me Into Trouble...

2010-09-15T11:38:00.005-05:00

After we lost Rascal last week, it's been a different mood around here. You can't replace a good dog like him, but you can try to fill the void.

This past Saturday, we got wind of a litter of Dachshund puppies not far away from us - and at a price we could afford. We decided that it was "now or never", even though it was a little soon for us. We were glad we did, though - we came home with a new baby girl -

Peaches:

She has been getting to know us and has started creating havoc by terrorizing our toes, and keeping us awake at night because she wants to play.

It's been 8 years since we had a puppy in the house, so we have to strain to remember what, when, and how to do things - and we need a nice, LOUD bell on the tiny little beast to let us know where she is.

She has even started to play with a tennis ball - something Autumn never did decide to do. Our Doxie we had for 12 years (Crystal) always loved to play "chase" with the ball. Peaches is too small to grab the ball in her jaws, but she can grab a mouthful of "fuzz" and carry it around that way. We're both hoping that she continues to enjoy playing with it.

Her big sister - Autumn - is still a bit grouchy over her arrival - and a little "upset" about Rascal's "disappearance", but she is slowly coming around - this morning, she actually gave Peaches a kiss on the nose, and snuffled her a bit. She'll still have her "moments", but she'll get over it, especially when Peaches is big enough to play.

This morning, I was in my office with Peaches. I had her on a small pillow on the "pull out" board on the my desk. It's just about the right size for her - for now.

There I was, minding my own business, when I caught the little terrorist red hand.....er...Red PAWED. Right in front of me, while I watched...

She was trying to tear off the "Do Not Remove Under Penalty Of Law", tag from the pillow.

The little monster is trying to get me throwed in jail!

When I confronted her, she tried to use her cuteness to deny the whole thing:

All this after I gave her steak for supper last night....

At least I got photographic proof it wasn't me.

Rascal

2010-09-10T22:01:00.002-05:00

24 January 2002 - 10 September 2010

My Little Buddy

You'll be GREATLY missed....

I ALMOST Lost It....

2010-09-09T12:07:00.003-05:00

Stupid cow....

Every morning and night, I bring the cows onto the stanchion (one at a time, of course....), for the morning and evening fondle. Since I separate Stew (Daisy's calf) from mom at night, I get more milk in the morning, than in the afternoon.

Mabel never has been a real HUGE producer, but I've noticed that lately, she's really dropped in production in the afternoons. Since we had her palpitated - and found out she IS pregnant - the drop wasn't REAL shocking. Odd, none the less, but not SHOCKING.

Well - a couple of days ago, Mabel and her accomplice (Daisy), got out into the yard over night. I had left the pasture gate to the drive way open so they could go out there and chow down when they felt like it.

They felt like chowing down on the lawn....

I can leave the driveway gate open and those two will walk right up to it and LOOK down the drive, but won't take a step onto it. When they are on the drive, they stand by the gate and peer longingly out into the yard. When they DO eat on the driveway, they choose to munch on the places I can GET WITH THE LAWN MOWER!

Do they mow where I CAN'T mow? NOOOOOOO....Even if I have just run over it with the mower, they clip it even lower - totally ignoring the nice, tall grass 2 feet away. If I open the gate, they're gone into the yard.

That's what happened the other day. They went through their gate, onto the drive and leaned on the horse panel across the drive until they could stick their pointy little heads in, then shoved on through to the front yard.

All this would be fine - except I still had to MILK them that morning. Daisy was easy because she was sticking close to the barn until I let Stew out of his nightly prison stay.

THAT'S where I made my mistake....

Daisy came on it, Mabel headed for greener pastures, and I let Stew OUT....

The first thing Stew did, was to find Aunt Mabel and snitch breakfast - and Mabel LET HIM!

No WONDER Mabel was drained at night!

Mabel wasn't worth much that morning, but I got enough from her to feed the cats. Daisy, on the other hand, made up for it. I overflowed the bucket before I was done.

Every time I milk the cows, they get "cookies" (alfalfa cubes) when we're done. Normally, I give a couple on the stand, then stick some more in front of their face as they head out the door. This morning was no diffe...ok, it WAS a LITTLE different.

I was just about done with Mabel, when my cell phone rang. It was the neighbor who wanted some help. I talked to him as I gave Mabel some cookies, and unlocked the head stall. Mabel backed up, turned around and waited patiently by the door for he second batch of handouts.

It was at this point when I said my goodbyes on the phone, flipped it shut and started to put it back into it's pouch on my belt....

THAT'S when I almost lost it - the PHONE, I mean!

Mabel ASSUMED that since it was in my hand, and passing in front of her nose, that it was a goody. She deftly slid over and SNATCHED IT FROM MY HAND! Luckily, I was quick enough to save it before it went "crunch", but it did get slimed pretty good.

Mabel stepped back, looked at me with those big "puppy dog" eyes, and snorted. I suppose she was wondering why I snatched her treat right out of her mouth. Hey - it might be a cheap phone, but the carrier might balk at a replacement if I told them my cow ate it.

Anyhoo - she got her cookies, then huffed out the door and out of the barn.

Stew was already out their, waiting for her.

'Twas A Dark Stormy Morning.....

2010-09-03T17:51:00.004-05:00

We had to be in the Big City early one morning this past week, so that meant I'd be out in the barn earlier then most days. The sun wasn't even THINKING of being up yet...

....and neither were the cows....

Normally, when they hear the screen door to the barn slap shut, everyone in, around, and in earshot of the building, goes off like they're starving -

Three, two month old triplet goats scream for their bottles -
Two "momma" cows want their grain -
One lonely steer calf wants his momma -
Three Momma Goats want breakfast - Kittens yowling -
And that's just in the barn.

Well - I guess I got everyone on a bad day. I opened the barn door, stepped inside and turned on the lights. I expected the cats to scurry like big fuzzy roaches, and the three orphan goats to start howling for their bottle. Instead, I got SILENCE.

Nothing - not even a PEEP from ANYBODY.

Oh well, I figured that they'd be starting pretty soon, so I grabbed a couple buckets and got food for the Goats across the driveway and for Yani. I also scooped up some cat food and dumped it into the pan I have for them. I had already gotten dog food, and was in the process of filling the bucket for the goats when I heard odd crunching sounds behind me. I turned to see 3 of the cats with their heads stuffed into the dog food bucket, munching away. - and totally ignoring THEIR food, not 6" away.

So I grab the dog food, and the 3 cats go scurrying away into the night.

It's still dark, so I grab a flash light and trudge across the yard to feed Yani and her goats the food I just dug out for them. I always feed Yani first, because I have one goat that always tries to eat the dog food. I figure that Yani can eat (almost) fast enough to finish hers before the goats get done and the dog food-eater can get back to her dish.

On this particular morning, I dump Yani's food in the dish, then head off to fill the tray for the goats, and Scout (the dogwood eater) follows right behind me. As I finish dumping the food, the rest of the goats wake up enough to come eat. I shine my flashlight down the row of munching goats to count them and see if there are any visible problems. To my surprise, I'm missing a - oddly enough - BLACK goat, and in her place, is a fuzzy white "goat" named Yani, chowing down on goat food.

This she NEVER (until now) does. She's sniffed it before, but ALWAYS turned up her nose at it. Then there was the matter of the missing goat, so I headed off to look for her. As I shone my light down the fence row, a set of beadie eyes suddenly "popped" up into view. I couldn't believe it - the missing goat was munching YANI'S food!

Another she "NEVER" does that.....

I got everyone sorted out, and eating their OWN food, then headed back to the barn to take care of things there.

The cats were still nowhere to be seen, but I figured they'd show up when they found out I was milking the cow. Stew, the calf, was still ASLEEP, when I shone my light on him. I think he was even snoring.

After being rousted, both cows made their way into the barn - and promptly lay down. I got Mabel to her feet again, and headed off to the stanchion. As I was dumping her feed in, and latching the head stall, I heard another odd slurping, then a crunching sound behind me. Turning, I saw Daisy Mae, with her face in the cat food, emptying the pan. She DID NOT want to stop, either - I had to grab the pan and TAKE it from her.

Other than the missing cats, milking went on from there in an uneventful manner. I got the milk, filled the bottles for the Three Monsters, then let Daisy loose. Normally, everyone has to put up with the Monster's yelling and carrying on until they get a bottle shoved in their faces. On this day, I had to go FIND the little fur balls. One was easy enough - she's half white - the other two are almost all black, and hard to spot in the morning darkness.

They even slept through my calls of "Are you HUNGRY?", and "Come on Ladies, it's breakfast time". FINALLY, they woke up enough to WALK in and get fed. Usually they scramble around, circle in between my legs, and fight for the food. That morning, they calmly wove their way to the milk stand and waited patiently for the milk.

It was AMAZING! It would almost be worth getting up a 4:00 am EVERY day.....

NOT.

So - to sum it all up, I had -

Cats eating dog food,
Dog's eating Goat food,
Goats eating dog food,
Cows eating cat food,
A calf who missed breakfast entirely,
Sleepy goat orphans who slept through the breakfast they ate,
and cows too sleepy to put up a fight on the stand.

The worst part of it was - I had a "fasting Lab" that morning, so starved to death while I was feeding everyone else....

Fred Flintstone's Thumb

2010-08-31T20:56:00.002-05:00

Like I've said before, there is a standing, unwritten, law in the barn:

"No cats allowed on the milk stand while said stand is being occupied by a cow or goat"

This has several reasons. Two of the most important are the safety of the cat, the other is the safety of the milker. Too many times to count, I've seen an accidental brush with a feline tail, or a rub on the cow's leg, result in a mashed kitty or a spilled bucket.

I've even had MY foot stepped on - and THAT'S probable cause for BBQ.....

So - in order to prevent these and other things from occurring, I enforce the rule. The first time it happens, I pick up the cat and gently toss it off the platform. When it hops back on (and it ALWAYS does...), I toss it a little further - increasing the distance according to the number of infractions. It's never very far - just enough to (MAYBE) sink it into their furry little minds that the milk stand is not a good place to be when it's occupied.

This is where they get "smart". They attack in pairs by zooming across the stand just out of reach, or they sneak on from behind me. I still catch them, but I have to be quick.

Some of the cats have been around long enough to know about it - and stay out of the way. The new kittens we brought home a couple weeks ago are still learning - there have been at least TWO "brushes with death" that I can think of.

One lasted only 5-6 seconds. The kitten was too close to Daisy's leg when the cow shifted her foot. It caught the kitten by the tail.

It was OBVIOUSLY not pleasing for the kitten - and hard on everyone else's ear drums.
It lasted long enough for me to reach under the cow to tap her leg so she'd move. Instead of reshuffling the cow - all I got for my effort was a scratch on the finger from the cat because I was in range and - naturally - everything was MY fault.

That was last Monday. I figured that the kitten had learned a good lesson, because she dove out of the room as fast as her short little furry legs would move, once Daisy moved her foot.

Apparently, kittens have short memories....

Last Friday I was smoothly humming along with the morning milk. Mabel was on the stand, and the cats were milling about. All of a sudden, we all (and people six counties away) hear a high pitched, blood curdling scream. Well - ok, Mabel turned a deaf ear....She stood there, unmoved and unmoving, for about 3 minutes with this poor kitten's hand under her shoe.

My first instinct was to reach under the cow to tap her leg so she'd shift her foot. Since I DON'T have a short memory, I pulled my hand back before it got within claw range. I did manage to tap Mabel's leg just out of reach of the cat, but it did no good - the feline was stuck for the duration.

All the "cat-erwalling" and wailing started the goats to hollering, and brought all the other cats out of hiding to stand around the victim, taking bets on how long she'd last.

Cats are evil creatures.....

Here was this poor, "innocent" kitty, with her hand being flattened by a 900 pound monster, and all her friends could do was stand around and gawk.

I just stood there and marveled....

Anyway, after what seemed hours, Mabel FINALLY moved her foot and let the mashee victim loose. It was probably a good thing she hadn't waited much longer - the kitten was running out of air. She immediately zipped off to parts unknown to nurse her wounds. I had visions of her sitting there, in the shadows, holding her hand and watching her thumb pulse like Fred Flintstone's did in those old cartoons.

"FOOM FOOM FOOM FOOM....."

I've noticed that that particular kitten is WAY more careful about being around cows now, and she seems no worse for wear....

Except for that clown shoe she has to wear on just the one foot...

Another Freebee

2010-08-29T10:40:00.004-05:00

My Dad worked on and farmed with IH tractors all his life. He worked at a dealer in town for several years, as a mechanic and parts man. There wasn't a lot he didn't know - or couldn't figure out - on those old machines.

While the first tractor I actually operated by myself was a Ford, my first love is IH. When we bought this farm, the first tractor I bought was an IH 460. It was a nice machine, but was getting a little hard to get on and off, so I had to get something a little more suited to me. I WISH I could have kept it, but I needed to trade it on something newer.

I found an IH 454. It was a nifty little tractor, but just didn't have the power or weight I needed. I used it for a couple years, then sold it in favor of my Ford 4000.

Well - about 3 weeks ago, I got an e-mail from a friend. He had been on the lookout for an old "F" Series Farmall for me. I told him "cheap". At this point, my lovely wife interjected "Free, would be nice....". The e-mail stated that he had found an F-20 for me. It was "in pieces, and not complete", but it was mine if I wanted it. I - of course - turned him down....

RIGHT

Yesterday, I rode with him down to nearly Salina, Kansas, to pick it up, and another F-20 for him. He had already made the trip 2-3 times to get 4-5 other tractors from the same place. It was an enjoyable trip, even with getting up at 3:45 am, feeding sleepy goats, and milking cranky cows - even the CATS were still asleep.

We made it down there by about 9:30, got the trailer loaded, and headed back home by 11:15 or so. We stopped to unload his machine at his Dad's place, then came on to unload mine here.

I don't think Deb is REAL impressed....

I had showed her a couple of F-20's at the tractor show we went to a couple weeks ago, so she knew what to expect - or THOUGHT she did.

Here's what we unloaded from the trailer:

It don't look like much, does it?

All of the rest of it is over at my friends house - he has a tractor that he needs the rear end out of, and I need the front half. One of these days I'll need to get the rest of it over here so I can start work. For now, I need to get the tires on and get it so we can roll it around some.

The steering wheel is off a newer model - probably an "H" or "M", but there is another steering rod with a good wheel on it in the pile, I'll just need to change it.

This isn't a "work" tractor - I wanted this for tinkering and maybe a show machine - more of a "play" tractor.

All-in-all, it's a pretty good deal. I told Deb that it was the best tractor to have - it uses ZERO fuel....

No Bull - REALLY....

2010-08-26T07:58:00.007-05:00

We've had Mabel for almost a year now. She came to us bred (hopefully) to a Guernsey Bull - albeit - through "AI".

For those of you who don't know what "AI" is - it the process of humiliation where the "AI Tech" puts on the full length shoulder gloves (BOTH arms...), and dives in - literally. One arm goes up "where the sun don't shine" (only it DOES shine on that part of a cow....), and the other, along with a long metal tube, is inserted into "other" places. This tube contains the "bull juice".

Now, having been kept at temps WELL below zero for who knows how long, these bovine "egg chasers" are probably happy about getting to someplace warm. Once put in the right place, the tech removes the rod, both of their arms, then lights a cigarette for the cow and takes your check.

All this has to be PERFECTLY timed - and that's the responsibility of the guy who owns the cow. The Tech is there for one thing only. If you're off on your observations, then you just had your cow violated for nothing, and spent the fee so the Tech can eat, while you can't.

The whole process starts when you see the cow butting heads and romping with the others (even other females) in the pasture. It's not like it's an every day occurrence (RIGHT), so it's EASY to spot (RIGHT).

Anyway, by the end of last January, it was becoming apparent that Mabel's "appointment" with he AI tech was all in vain - she wasn't pregnant. It took a blood test to prove it, but we found out for sure that way.

We had decided on a blood test because Mabel does NOT like trailers. When we picked her up to bring her home, it took three people pushing, and one pulling on a rope to get her into it for the ride to her new home. Since we don't have extra help, it wasn't looking good for the Hillbillies on finding out if the AI we did in APRIL of this year did any good.

It costs too much to have the Vet come out to check, and Mabel is a "homebody".

A couple of weeks ago, I parked our "one-horse" trailer out in the cow's pasture so they'd have to walk around it to come in from their day in the field. I wanted them to get used to - at least - being on the OUTSIDE of the thing. Yesterday, I backed it into the gate by the barn, and set up a panel so Mabel didn't have anywhere to go BUT inside it.

She knew she was trapped, but by that time, it was too late, she'd been snookered into walking into something she couldn't get out of - she was loaded in the trailer for the trip to see the Vet.

The GOOD thing about our trailer - other than it was free - is that it's just wide enough for a cow to stand in while she's being palpitated (another "shoulder glove" ordeal...). This makes it MUCH easier, since we don't have to unload Mabel, put her in the squeeze chute, then load her up again. It's all quick and easy for us - and the Doc.

Well - he gets done with his "bidness", and pronounces her "Almost 5 months along". He's been around the block a time or two, and got this one REAL close, since we had her AI'ed on April 1st. Since it WAS the first of April, we were hoping that it wouldn't be an April Fool's joke, and that she "took" this time.

I asked him if it was a girl this time, and he said "Nope....another boy"

Lets hope he is wrong on that one - he was right with Daisy....

We got Mabel home, and let her out in the middle of the yard so she could go help Daisy mow. She seemed happy to be home - as far as we know, all of the last trailer rides Mabel has been on, she ended up at a different home than where she started. This was a whole new experience for her!

So - hopefully, if all goes well, sometime around the first week in January, we SHOULD have a new calf running around here.

And HOPEFULLY it's a GIRL.

Hate, Discontent, and Riots

2010-08-23T10:06:00.005-05:00

There comes a time in every young dairy calf's life where they start spending nights away from momma. This is so the evil Hillbilly farmer can steal their breakfast. It makes baby hungry and mad, it makes mom angry and mad, and make the Hillbilly farmer have to put up with all kinds of bellering and rioting in the barn.

But hey, the cheese, cream, and yogurt is good!

Last night was the night for poor old (young) Stew. He was forced to watch his mom from the wrong side of the fence, and not be able to do anything about it but cry for a snack. Mom (Daisy), for her part, did her share of voicing her disapproval at the new "sleeping" arrangements.

Then, you add in the goats to the mix. I doubt ANYONE slept much last night - I heard the bellering from the house at 2:00 am! People were DEFINITELY cranky this morning!

The goats were in the far corner of the pen, trying to stay as far away from that noisy calf as they could. Even the Three Monsters were in hiding - I only rousted them when they realized it was time for breakfast. That's when the fun began.

Three Monsters hollering at the side door, momma cow hollering at the back door, calf hollering behind the barn, cats hollering under foot, momma goats hollering out in the paddock for THEIR food, and Yani barking at....well, just barking (she'd already been fed). I could even hear Chuck and Belle answering Daisy in the distance.

About the only ones who WEREN'T hollering were the goats across the driveway - but only because they were stuffing their pointy little faces with apples I had tossed over the fence - otherwise, they'd have been in on it, too.

Mabel was the lone good critter. She calmly went about her business in order to get out and graze. After all, it wasn't HER rug rat who was starving to death....

I finally stole about as much of Stew's food as I could - I left him the two back quarters to finish out (and a bit of the front ones because I ran out of "bucket space"...), so I let Daisy loose to go rescue her child. She zipped past me, out the door, and ran to where Stew was (he had since moved to the side of the barn, and they were talking through the wall at each other). I actually had to grab Stew by the halter and shove him toward the open gate. Once he FOUND the gate though, he had ZERO problems running through to mom's awaiting teats.

I finished up inside, milked Mabel, fed the monsters, fed the kittens, and got outta dodge. The only mishap of the morning was a kitten's tail got flattened by Daisy. It was a total accident, but the cat bugged out REAL quick and has (hopefully) learned a valuable lesson.

Speaking of cats ---

I guess what they say about them having "nine lives" is correct - or at least SEEMS to be.

Last year, we had a stray black cat "adopt" us. She ended up having 3 kittens - two survived. Well - to make a long story short - we started loosing chicks, and adult chickens. Some can be attributed to bold coyotes (one came with 15' of the house the other day, and grabbed a chicken), but I saw this black cat grab a small hen and run off with it.

It would have to go.

Now, life on the farm also includes things other people don't like to think about - getting rid of animals that are detrimental to the others on the farm. Last Thursday was one of those times.

I captured the offending cat, grabbed my pistol, then took her out to the "back forty" to "do the deed". It's not a job I LIKE, but it needed done.

All was well again - sort of.

Saturday afternoon, I go out to the barn and see the black cat playing with her two kittens! I just figured I was seeing things, or got a bad taco or something and it was affecting my eyesight.

Then, Sunday evening, Deb hollers and points out the window at a black cat walking across the yard toward the barn. Mass hallucination can't be blamed on bad tacos....
The cat was BACK.

I went outside and she let me come up to her and pet her. Nope, no bullet holes.

I know for a FACT that I DID NOT MISS from 3" away - and the thing was dead when I left it.

Now, she looks at me with those yellow eyes and I'm not sure weather to trust her or not. I've heard stories about cats hopping on your chest while you sleep and stealing your breath...

Cats are inherently evil, anyway. No telling what THIS cat is capable of now.

I'm just gonna sleep with one eye open for awhile.....

Just in case...

Deadication....

2010-08-13T09:56:00.003-05:00

It's been a hot one for the past couple of weeks. A few days over 100° - and a couple of 103°+ tossed in. It's not so much the HEAT that is the killer, but we've had high humidity added into it. This all sums up to a hot, muggy day.

The animals mostly stay in the shade during the heat - although, I HAVE caught an occasional goat laying out in the hot afternoon sun. Sometimes, they ain't too bright.

The cows hoover around one of 3 or 4 trees God provided for them, eating leaves, mowing grass in the shade, or stealing apples off the tree.

I TOLD them to eat windfalls but, you KNOW how cows are.....

Belle and Chuck (the two yearling cows) have plenty of nice shade in their pasture, and even a spring to drink out of. I still provide water in a small tank, though, just in case. I did manage to borrow another tub so I wouldn't need to fill the other so often. The only problem is - it smells like goat, and the two bovine have a "goat attitude" problem. They get pestered through the fence by the goats, so turn their noses up at anything that smells like one.

I can go outside at 2:00 or 3:00 pm and find the chickens huddled under various things like the car, pickup, cattle chute, a cow, etc, etc, anywhere there is shade.

There are even a couple that are in deep, dark holes, sitting on nests.

I check in on them every day or so, but they are in a couple places that are hard to SEE into, let alone GET to. One was in such a place that decided to leave her undisturbed, and see what would happen.

Well, you know how broody hens get - NOTHING keeps them from their appointed rounds. They are more stubborn than a mailman on his route - gloom of night, snow, hail, sleet, locusts, fire, brimstone, yada, yada, yada - only WORSE. Hens usually refuse food and water, too.

Well, things were progressing nicely, this one hen in particular was well into her second week, almost "full term" - when I noticed something strange. She was sitting in a odd way, almost like the chicks were hatching, and she was making room under her feathers for them.

So, I decided it was time to crawl in there and see what I could see.

I positioned myself within "stick poke range" and proceeded to give her a nudge. To my surprise, SHE DIDN'T MOVE. I poked her 3-4 more times until she flopped over on her side - stiff as a board.

I had seen this hen the day before at about noon, and she seemed fine. It was also the day we had a heat index close to 120°, too. There's not much you can do when they refuse food and water.....

Some folks (hens, in particular.....) need to learn the difference between "dedication" and "DEADication"......

A Bone To Pick

2010-08-10T16:35:00.004-05:00

Last Saturday morning, I decided to go out and do a little "brush hogging" with the 8N. I had been finishing up cleaning up the weeds in the pasture, so I mowed a few other places while I had it on the back of the tractor.

My old 1949 Ford 8N is like the "Energizer Bunny" - at least so far - it just keeps going, and going, and going.....It's "tired" for sure, but we just don't have the money to do a rebuild right now - one of these days.

Ever since I got it, I have been shutting the fuel off every time I use it (a good idea on ANY old tractor....), and have also been disconnecting the battery cable. It's more of a "just in case" thing, but I like to do it.

At any rate, very time I use the tractor, the first thing I do is open the access door on the top of the hood, and hook up the battery. It takes about 30 seconds.

Then, after I'm done with whatever I'm using the tractor for, I open the door, and unhook the cable. It just one of those things that are part of the "routine".

Another part of "routine" is giving the LGD a nice, big beef leg or knuckle bone. This doesn't happen on a daily basis, mind you, even though Yani (the LGD) WANTS it to. She gets a couple a week. They are frozen, so she lets them thaw most times, during the day, and chews them while she's "on duty" at night. It keeps her awake, I guess, since she doesn't drink coffee.

The main problem with this bone dealing is two fold -

(1) She likes to bury her "stash" for use later. I'm ok with that, until I go traipsing through the pasture and find a big pile of bones in a shallow grave. I'm sure the CSI people would have fun in my paddocks.

And -

(2) When she DOES pull them out of her fermenting stash pile, she gnaws on them a few more hours, then deposits them all over the pasture in various stages of "chew-ed-ness". This is fine - until I decide to come by with the brush hog and start crunching them up.....or worse...

I've hit small trees, bigger trees, stumps, holes, mounds of dirt, rocks, and all manner of things while using the hog. Bones can be nerve wracking. While rocks fly out from under the mower, it doesn't happen very often - unless you're mowing the driveway.

Bones, on the other hand, are unexpected because they can MOVE. You can mow in May, and have smooth sailing. You come back in July, and some fuzzball creature has deposited a 3" round knuckle bone where you least expect it. You're zipping along, lost in your thoughts, when all of a sudden - THUD, BANG, CRASH!

You look back in time to see small bone pieces running through the grass on either side of the mower.

On this particular day, I had several of these "Batman" happenings (idle reference to the old Batman TV series - you know - KaPOW, ZOT, Ka-Bluie......never mind....)

I listened to the clamor, and continued on. It wasn't until later, when I had finished, and was putting the tractor away, when I found it sitting behind the battery.

<--------------Front of tractor. Me, and the mower are this way --------->

I opened the access door and this bone was lodged behind the battery. I have NO idea how it got there - the mower was behind the tractor, with me, the steering wheel, and part of the frame in between.

It's a fairly large chunk, too - about small fist sized:

I'd sure like to know what the flight path was on THAT rocket! It HAD to be a pretty interesting route.

Where are those CSI guys when you need them?

UPDATE!

2010-08-06T19:40:00.002-05:00

Not wanting to have a riot in the barn this morning, we figured something had to be done about the lack of cookies for the bovine....

Ever wonder why the solution to things comes to you at 3:00 in the morning? Since we were awake anyway, we decided that it would be a good idea if I got up and high-tailed it into town, and come home with a fresh bag before milking.

So, there I was, sitting in the parking lot of the local farm store at 7:15. Unknown to me, the people who work there sleep late and don't open until 8:00. I had 45 minutes to kill, since I didn't want to waste a trip into town, and I knew the cows didn't want me to come home empty handed.

I headed on down to a couple of spots I scrounge from to see if anything was worth tossing into the truck, took a tour through the local fairgrounds (the fair is in a couple weeks), and drove by a couple of houses they recently tore down. I timed my return to the store to be "fashionably late" - 8:04 am.

The door was just being opened as I stepped up to it.

I "chastised" a couple of the workers for being able to sleep late (kidding, of course), and headed to the feed display part of the store.

I rounded the end of the isle, and sauntered up to the EMPTY space where the beloved cow cookies usually sit.....

Uh oh...I'm doomed, thought I, not only was it a wasted trip after all, but the cow people were NOT gonna be happy. I shuffled my feet along the floor as I headed back to the front door....

Woe, plague, pestilence, locusts and frogs - it was not looking good for the home team.

The girl at the counter asked me, as I drug slowly by - "Didn't find what you were looking for"?

"Nope, says I, "now I gots to go home and explain to the cows why they have no cookies."

After one of those "dog with the head tilted to the side" type of looks, she asked me what "cow cookies" were. I explained about the alfalfa cubes and my bovine's addiction, and she at least SEEMED to understand.

She reached down to the belt line of her jeans, grabbed her store radio, and asked if there were any Alfalfa Cubes unloaded off of the truck that was just pulling out of the driveway (I guess they don't sleep late after all).

The tiny voice boomed back from the box - "YES, SIR, YES SIR - THREE BAGS FULL!"
(They actually said that, then corrected it to 5 bags....)

Hallelujah! My life was saved!

Within a few seconds, the voice in the box came carrying in a bag of cookies on his shoulders, paused at the register to scan it, and carried it directly to my awaiting truck.

I headed home with a whole new outlook on life.

Daisy and Mabel were skeptical at first, but decided to chance it, Daisy being the braver of the two. I squeezed (squoze?) all the milk I could out of her, then headed for the cookie bag.

It's amazing how a day or two without makes them appreciate them all the more:

Both she and Mabel practically sucked my hand in to get them!

The odd thing is - when we first got them last spring, they wouldn't even TOUCH the things, now they are addicted.

Who wudda thunk?

About the only other new happenings around here is my new hairstyle. I kinda went with the pony tail, cow lick, comb over, Jamaican dredlock look....

What you think, Mon?

Thought I Was Gonna Die...

2010-08-05T20:10:00.003-05:00

The cows have been mad at me all day.....

It started out because we overslept. I walked out to the laundry room, looked out the window, and found Mabel standing at the gate, peering intently toward the side door of the house. She had that look of impatience about her - radar up, nose down, stamping of feet, gnashing of cud, etc. She wanted breakfast and was upset about her schedule being messed up - she SHOULD have been out in the front yard, munching on grass by now.

Breakfast had BETTER be good.

WEEELLL....While there was plenty of nice meal to be had (I even put in a little extra as an atonement), I was running EXTREMELY low on "cookies" (alfalfa cubes) - and Mabel LOVES her cookies.

Mostly, they got 3 small cubes each, and some dust. This does NOT make for a happy cow.

Normally, they get done in the stanchion, then I open the front door to the barn, and they go sauntering outside to happily mow around the front of the house. By noon, they usually have worked their way to one of 3 trees behind the house. By 4:30, their "normal" spot is under the tree on top of the hill in the hay field. If it's cool enough, then they are at the farthest reaches of the pasture.

They know (because I bought them pocket watches) when it's time to come back to the barn, get a drink of water (although - the gates open all day, they can get water whenever they want), and mill around for 15 to 20 minutes before supper.

Not today.....

This afternoon at a little after 12:30, I found three cows camped under the apple tree in the front yard. They made SURE I was looking at them before BOTH of the "moms" reached up and snagged an apple off the tree. All the while, standing knee deep in windfalls.

What could I do. I chased them out from under the tree.

Mabel started to mosey on down the fence line to another tree, and Daisy, with her boy in tow, headed out to the middle of the yard.

I turned my back for about 5 minutes, and they were all back under the apple tree. I looked at MY watch, and saw it was lunchtime, so the cows got lucky. My lovely wife called, and asked if I wanted a sandwich. I stared down the evil bovine, and muttered something under my breath about "No, I'll eat my lunch raw....", and went inside for lunch.

By 2:30, they were back under the tree again, so I figured enough was enough, and herded them (unwillingly) back inside the gate and closed it behind them. I figured that, if all they were gonna do is stand around under a tree, then they could do that inside their pen, and the apples would go unmolested.

At 5:00, I grab my pails, and head out to squeeze the cows. First off - DAISY was first in line waiting. This only happens when Pluto, Saturn, and Uranus (WHO named that one, anyway?), line up directly over head.

Ok, its happened 3 times since the calf was born....

But anyway - Daisy milks fine, stands still, no kicking, no stamping, and only a couple of tail swipes. All goes well until it is time for her to leave the stanchion. This is when they normally would get cookies.

Ever try to convince a cookie crazed cow that there ARE no more cookies? Daisy refused to budge from the stanchion. I even found her calf, made sure she saw him, and forced him clean out of the barn.

She stamped her feet, shook her head, and stood fast. It took almost as long to get her out of the stanchion as it did to milk her - and I ain't the fasted milker in the world. I Finally pulled, tugged, shoved, poked and prodded her out of the area.

Mabel, the "innocent bystander", saw all this and decided to head outside to wait. Ok, this was fine, except that she preferred to wait halfway down the hill in the pasture. It's funny how they can come up with ways to make a 30 minute job take an hour....

The call of supper was too great, so Mabel moseyed up the hill and into the stanchion. All was well in the world once more, the planets were back to their proper alignment, Mabel was munching away on her food when she did an odd thing.

Since she has only one good quarter, and I have bad knees, I sit on her left side and extend my leg underneath her. This helps me be able to sit there longer, and also helps hold the bucket where it belongs. All of a sudden, Mabel takes a step forward, and lands a hoof right on my pant leg.

I didn't feel a thing, no skin was damaged, no blood, nothing - except I COULDN'T MOVE. That crazy cow had all of her 6 tons standing on my jeans! Under "normal" conditions, I just reach over and tap which ever leg I want her to move. Tap on the front, she moves it back, tap on the back, she steps forward, tap on the side...well - you get the point.

There I was, sitting with one leg under the cow, the other behind the cow, and not able to move. Do you think Mabel would remember her training at a time like this? I tapped for 5 minutes, and all I got was a snort and a threatening lift of the tail.

I tapped, poked, even rubbed her side and leg, but all for naught, she stood where she was. I wasn't REALLY fearing for my life - I knew Deb would miss me after a couple days, and figured I could survive on milk THAT long.

My biggest worry was that ominous looking tail.

I finally managed to scare Mabel into letting me loose (she wanted a signed contract for more alfalfa, but I wouldn't budge...). I tossed the three pieces of apple I had nearby into her feeder, she jumped and I was free.

Having escaped, I figured I had won, but Mabel had other ideas. When it was time to leave, she stood there like a rock, waiting for cookies. She wasn't happy when I got her to leave without any, and walked off snorting.

Let this be a lesson to you all, if you over sleep, remember that your cows hold a grudge, especially if there are cookies involved.

The Difference Between Cows And Goats

2010-07-30T16:00:00.010-05:00

There are several differences between cows and goats, some obvious, some not so clear, and others that hop back and forth over the line between the two.

When we first got our goats, there weren't a lot of them around here. Most folks thought of them as "little cows", or "short haired sheep". Unfortunately, neither of those descriptions really fit well....

How about "domesticated deer"?

Once you get your first goat, you realize a few things that differentiate them for bovine:

COWS ARE TALL, GOATS ARE SHORT

For the most part, this holds true. There is the rare exception to the rule, such as Mini Jersey, or other "mini" breed of cows. A friend of ours has those. They look like somebody washed them in too hot a water, and then they shrunk in the dryer. I've seen DOGS just as big. Goats can be large, but usually not THAT big. A good mini cow will still weigh in at 400-500 pounds. The biggest goat I've seen was right at 300.

COWS HAVE FOUR, GOATS HAVE TWO

Teats. Although, some cows, like our Mabel, are only blessed with 3. I've also seen 4 on a goat, and heard tell of a couple with SIX (I doubt all worked, though). Cow's teats are generally bigger, too, but not always - it depends on the breed. A good Nubian doe can put a Jersey cow to shame in the size department. Those are the ones that are nice to milk. Then you have the ones like our Kinder Goats. Two small little nubs about the size of your little finger, but only 2/3 as long. It's not fun to work with those types.

COWS DON'T MIND SPIT

Ever try to take a bite out of an apple and then give it to a goat? Nine times out of ten, the goat will find your saliva on it, and spit the thing out. They also don't like to eat on something that another goat has chewed on. Cows, on the other hand, don't have as "discerning" taste buds, and dig right in. They put more emphasis on the belly, not the buds.

GOATS ARE NOISIER THAN COWS

The next time you walk out toward the barn in the morning, notice who makes the most ruckus. Around here, the goats a VERY vocal about being fed - even right after they've eaten. I have one who even mumbles WHILE she's eating. Cows generally keep quiet unless they can't find their baby, or you have just banded their baby and he is not happy. Goats figure that you've taken the baby for a reason, and you'll give it back when you've fed it.

COW POOP VS GOAT POOP

Cow Pies are NOT better with a top crust! For that matter - goat pellets do NOT taste like Black licorice jelly beans, no matter HOW much they resemble them. Goat poop is fairly easy to sweep up, and right out the door, even before it dries. Cow poop, is not really "sweepable" under any conditions. I use it to grease wheel bearings. The stuff is nasty slick, never dries completely, and doesn't melt. Of course, cow poop stays on the pitch fork better. You have to mix goat poop with straw before you can fork it.

TAILS AS A WEAPON

A cow's tail is designed for two things (1) swatting flies to keep them off their back, and (2) swatting any human who invades the cows "space". Usually this is reserved for the female of the species, and is used extensively during milking. There you are, milking away, when you get zapped in the eye, or across the face, neck, and shoulders with a wet soppy tail that has been drug through a cow pie expressly for that purpose. Goats don't have this problem. I can safely say I have NEVER been attacked by a goat's tail. I've had to fight a couple of them on occasion when I wanted them out of the way so I could inspect "things", but never had other problems with them. It IS amazing how tight they can hold that thing to their body when they want to.

With a cow, even a "stub" can be dangerous. Mabel started out life in a dairy where they docked her tail. She only has a stub about 8"-10" long. I can tell you this - she has smacked me in the arm with it, hard enough to leave a bruise - through a sweat shirt and a jacket. She has also timed it perfectly and "poked" me with it when I walked behind her. It was hard enough to knock me sideways a bit.

FENCES

Cows are content to see a 4 wire fence, or a single strand electric fence in front of them. They even get so used to things, sometimes you can take the fence down, and they think it's still there. I have a gate on our driveway. Most days, it is shut because the cows are out roaming the yard. I left it open the other morning, just to see how the bovine would react. Both of them walked (grazed) down the hill, right to the open gate. They both ripped up grass right beside it - looked down the driveway, and walk away. My goats would have been out the door in a SECOND.

Cows see fences and gates as a limitation, goats see them as a challenge. One electric strand - nor 4 barb wires - will keep the average goat from tasting the neighbor's rose bushes.
You rarely see a cow with it's head stuck in a fence, either. Goats actually LIKE it. They enjoy the attention when you come grumbling out to the extreme far end of the pasture to rescue some poor goat's scrubby hide, only to get within ten feet of her, and she wriggles her head out. They do this on purpose. It makes them laugh.

COWS DON'T LIKE ROSES

Cows are prissy, they like food that tastes good, and is easy to eat. Goats don't mind if the food bites back. Hedge trees, roses, Locust trees, etc - goats LOVE thorns. I've been run over by a herd of raging goats trying to get to a Multiflora Rose bush as big as my truck. They dove into the middle and ate their way out. Multiflora Rose is a wild rose that is hard to kill. Goats know the secret.

COWS DON'T CLIMB TREES

At least I've never seen one. I DO have photos of goats in trees, though. I'm not sure, but I'm pretty confident that the trees are thankful.

BABIES

Twins and triplets are common in the goat world. They also take 5 months to have them. Cows, on the other hand, cook them for 9 months and - most generally - have singles. By the way - there IS a reason why we call goat babies "kids"....

Our first set of kids was born in a shed I have that is open to the east. It was March, so I hung a tarp over the open end to block the cold wind. I nailed it to the roof, and weighed the bottom down with hay bales. I go up the hill to check on them one day, and hear funny "THUMP", "WOOOSH" sounds coming from the shed. I round the corner, stick my head behind the tarp, and find the 4 kids backing up as far away from the tarp as they can possibly get, then running toward the tarp. They hit the bales, launch themselves as high as they can get, then come sliding down the tarp and starting all over again.

Some people's KIDS......

GOAT WRASSLIN'

If a goat is giving you trouble, or you need to trim hooves, give a shot, doctor a wound, etc, you can grab it's furry body and flip it over, headlock it's head between your knees, or even drag it to the stanchion. Try putting your cow's head between your knees - if your cow is in a good mood, you get dirty looks. If she's in a BAD mood - well - it ain't pretty. Also, try dragging that 900 pound hamburger to someplace she doesn't want to go.....

WATER

Cows down about 30 gallons of the stuff a day from the tank, pond, creek, or mud puddle. Goats - about 2 glasses of Perrier a day. It MUST be clean, cool, and not have anyone else's spit on it. I've noticed, too, that goats will walk right by THEIR water if they feel you've given the cow some that is better. Cows also like to drink from the chicken tank, too. I have an old bath tub that I use to water the ducks and chickens. The ducks like to bathe in it and turn it green. Fresh one day, green the next. The two bovine will walk right by the gate to their tank, and head straight to down the duck water.

Goats also head for cover when they feel a rain drop. Cows ask for a scrub brush and soap. I guess goats think they're going to melt.

TOES

I found out the hard way that a cow's toes are a LOT heavier than a goat's toes - Mable stepped on MY toes one day last week. I'm still waiting for the feeling to return and the rest of the toenail to fall off. I think she did it on purpose, too. She didn't get any "cookies' (alfalfa cubes) for dessert, so she was mad.

I've had goats walk right down my back, across my chest, and all over my feet. I don't remember pain being a part of it....

LAWNMOWERS

Cows actually make better lawnmowers than do goats. Goats move around (browse) to much to be effective - they leave strips and bare spots - sorta like my old John Deere mower. Cows, on the other hand take a good long swipe sideways with that tongue, and pull up half the yard. They fertilize better then goats, too. Especially if there are chickens handy to spread it out.

Well - these are just a few differences between the two, I'm sure more will come to me later, but right now, I gotta go tuck the goats in, and make sure the cows are snuggled into a nice bed of their own do-do - and laying on the side I milk from.

ANOTHER thing they do on purpose.....

Cart

2010-07-24T12:26:00.005-05:00

Like I said in the last post, I drove over to a neighbor's house the other day to drill a couple of post holes for him so he could shore up his shed. He had a nice pile of scrap metal and a couple of garage doors waiting for me to get out of his way.

So, yesterday, I took the pickup over to see what I could get into it.

One of the main things I was after was an old LARGE hose reel cart. It is the kind that you can roll up a couple hundred feet of hose on. The best part is - it's on wheels.

It measures close to 18" wide, and 22" between the handle and the foot. I'll need to modify it a bit to make it easier to use, but the base unit is there. I plan on bending the handle back so it clears my big feet easier, then MAYBE add a couple 20" bicycle tires. on the back, and - if needed, turn the front ones into "casters" so it can maneuver in tight places.

All it has to do is help carry the milk machine back and forth from the house and barn. The pump and motor will stay in the barn.

HOPEFULLY, the majority of the milker parts will be here by the middle of next week. THAT'S when I get to have fun putting everything together and getting it to work. Scrounging the parts is fun, but getting to pla.....er......work with what I drag home - THAT'S where the fun is!

It seems like, just when we think we have hit a wall, and can't find a part or something, God makes a phone call to a friend (or someone we don't even KNOW....) and tells them what we're needing.

Now, if HE'd call the Weather Bureau, and tell them to hold the rain for about 2 weeks, then people could get some haying done!

The new calf is doing great. He gets out every morning with his mom and Mabel to graze in the yard, so he gets plenty of excersise.

He's not REAL happy though - I put a halter on him yesterday, and he does NOT like it! It's a little big for him, but I'm sure he'll grow into it.

Tomorrow, he's gonna be even more unhappy - we are putting dehorning paste on him, and he has to stay by himself for at least 6 hours so nobody else licks the paste off his head.

Then comes the day this week when we band him.....

All-in-all, it's not looking like a great week for him.

Logs

2010-07-22T14:32:00.003-05:00

I had to run into town this morning. Nothing new there, I go to town (probably) too often....at least according to my wife. I usually come home with something to make the trip worthwhile, though.

This morning, I was in buying gas when a friend told me about some "Straw Logs" that had served their purpose, and were being thrown away. He had heard that I had an area that the cows had started a little bit of erosion, and figured these would come in handy.

Actually, OUR cows didn't start it - the "renter cows" we had in the area a few years ago, did. There was a semi-permanent-temporary fence corner there (which has since been removed....), and the cows just got used to beating a trail around it. After that, nature took over.

God has things like that happen, just to keep us on our toes!

At any rate, I need to come up with some stone "rip-rap" and a little dirt. With these logs, It will be a pretty easy thing to get the erosion stopped. I came home with 8 of them - each about 16" in diameter, and 8' long. I'll stick them somewhere out of the weather for a bit, until I can get time to work with them.

This week has been fairly busy -

Training the cow to let down her milk...
Feeding the Monster Goat Orfinks...
Finding the new calf so he will lead mom into the stanchion...
Training a goat to keep her &%$#@& head out of a fence (she is walking around now, with a PVC pipe taped to her horns to help remind her that her head belongs on the same side of the fence as her body...)...
Rounding up pieces for a milk machine....
and general "stuff" around the farm.

On Tuesday, I decided to go to an old dairy close to here, and ask a few questions. One of the amazing things is - in 1950, there were 147 dairies in THIS COUNTY alone.

By 2000, there were ZERO.

Today, there are few people who even have there own milk cow. THANKFULLY, this trend is now reversing, and people have begun to understand the importance of farm fresh foods, and how they differ from the "food" at the store.

This particular dairy had shut down several years ago, but still raises cattle - even some dairy. They were MORE than happy to answer any questions I had, and even gave me some spare parts for a DeLaval milker. I asked them if they happened to know where I could get a vacuum pump, and they took me to one in their barn. We managed to get it down from it's perch, and $10 later, I had it on the way home.

It turned out to be a DeLaval number 73 pump. It looks/sounds to be in working order, I just need to clean it up, and get a motor.

It's amazing how some folks are. These gentlemen knew me from when I was in the 2nd grade, and started telling me stories about my Grandpa, Dad, and older brothers.

They told me to "Come on back, if you have any other questions!"

I'm PRETTY sure I'll be in contact in the near future!

We even have had another friend GIVE us most of a milking machine! It will need some new hoses and such, but it is mostly complete. Last night, I had a neighbor call and want a couple of holes for posts dug. So this afternoon, I'll head over to his place (about 2 1/2 miles away) and sling some dirt for him.

In return, he's giving me some scrap metal and other stuff. One of those things is a nice 4 wheel cart that will come in handy to mount the milk machine on.

Amazing how things come together, isn't it?

Screaming Meemie Monsters

2010-07-18T16:12:00.004-05:00

A couple of weeks ago - July 1st, in fact - we had triplet goats born to this Hillbilly Hill farm

Not to go off on a tangent but - we're thinking of changing the name of our farm to "Aspirin Acres" - because it's the best thing for a headache. We could hang a big "Tylenol" over the front gate and all....

It kinda rolls off the tongue....Aspirin Acres....Aspirin Acres....

Might even have to get a sign for my pickup.

Anyhoo - back to the goats.

Usually, when triplets are born, the mom decides that one is the "runt" and refuses to feed or care for it. It's sort of a sacrifice of one to ensure the others survive. Well, THIS mom decided on something novel - she'd not take care of ANY of them. She had some problems from the start and figured I'd be a better mom than she would have been, so she up and died a few days later.

Stupid goat.

She WAS one of our favorites - until she pulled that stunt.

So now, we have three little monsters that come bounding down the hill to chew on your pant legs, every time you set foot in the barnyard.

Two of them - all three are girls - are black, like dad (although one has some dark brown in her), and the other is about half white and half black. They are ALL con artists, though.

We take a couple of the other goat moms into the stanchion every day and "force feed" the three hooligans. By force feed, I actually mean force the MOM to feed them. This is done by locking the poor goat's head in the stanchion and letting the troops nurse on her where she can't fend them off nor get away.

It works to some extent. One of the moms has even taken to allowing one of the youngsters to nurse one her during the day. She hasn't ADOPTED the thing, but she has begun to let the "drive by nursings" become longer and more often.

This does NOT, however mean I'm off the hook....I still have to feed the greedy fiends with a bottle every day. At least they are getting SOME goat milk, straight from the "tap", the rest of the time they settle for cow milk.

Last Tuesday (13 July 2010) we finally had the cow - Daisy - have her calf. It turned out to be a bouncing baby boy. She went into labor at about 10:00 am, and delivered - with our help - at right at 1:00 pm. The baby is part Angus, but he is a Mahogany red/brown right now.

It was an odd set of circumstances - we had our 12 year old niece visiting, and she almost went home on Sunday. At the last minute, she stayed - along with our 23 year old niece.

If they hadn't changed plans, they would have missed the "big event". As it was, this was the first time for either of them to witness the birth of any animal. Abbie, the 23 year old, even jumped in and helped me pull the calf! She grabbed a slime covered leg and helped me pull the baby.

All-in-all, it was a good experience for them.

We only had ONE problem....

While we were watching, waiting, and helping the calf being born, we forgot something...

I walked into the barn at about 3:30 that afternoon, on a mission the check on things. I opened the gate to where the goats are and spotted the little Black and White Monster. She was standing there with an irritated look on her face, angrily chewing her lips. I knew INSTANTLY, that I was in trouble.

It was almost as if she was standing there, hands on hips, saying "WELL? Did you FORGET SOMETHING"?

Whatever her intent, I got the message REAL quick, that she was NOT happy about missing lunch.

That girl is all about attitude.

When we have the foster mom in the stanchion, the three of them fight over the two teats on mom. If this little "lady" gets shoved off her lunch wagon, she stiffens up, stares the offending sister down and lets out a LOUD yell in their ear - as if to say "That was MINE"! Then the shoving match starts all over.

They can be a handful at times, but they sure are cute!

Reunions...

2010-07-08T12:10:00.005-05:00

A few years back - somewhere close to 20 - our family held a "Family Reunion". Not much drama there, but it was an interesting time.

I recall a certain cousin arriving just a tad bit late. He parked his car along the nice wide street next to the park, walked down the hill, an proceeded to "mingle". Naturally, his "fashionably lateness" coincided with lunchtime, so he got in line and filled his plate with all kinds of potluck foods everyone had brought.

During the course of conversation, the "older" generation started asking him questions like - "Where you living now?", "What's your dad up to?", and even "How's your sister?". All were answered in due course, and the cousin was settling in, and having a pretty good time.

Somewhere - about a half hour after lunch, he began to realize that he didn't know anyone in attendance, and was anxiously awaiting the arrival of someone (anyone) he knew. Then it dawned on him....

He was at the WRONG family reunion.....

OUR family reunion was at a church rec center - not the city park where he was at. When folks in his "adoptive" family found out he was at the wrong reunion, they graciously handed him more food, and told him he could join their family if he wanted.

He profusely apologized, and thanked them, then got in his car and headed off to find his real kin.

Now, back when I was in grade school, my siblings and I attended a "one room, country school house". It was a little over a mile and a quarter from our house (as the crow flies), and it was the same school where our Grandpa and Dad attended. Unfortunately, after we moved to a different farm, it was closed for lack of students.

Years later, it was moved to town - I always tell people that, after I left, they HAD to make a museum out of the place.

Anyway, after that, I attended a DIFFERENT country school for a few years, until we moved to town, where I "partook" in "city" edumacation, for exactly TWO years - 6th and 7th grade, then it was off to a big city to finish my junior/senior High School experience.

This year will be the 30th anniversary since graduating from a class of close to 600 people - of which, I know about 20. They are planning a big two day "golf and drunk".....er.....reunion.

This morning, I go to the mailbox and pull out the ONLY thing in there. What do I find but an envelope containing and invitation to my "Class of 1980, High School Reunion".

Only trouble is - it's from the school I never graduated from......

I've set foot inside the door exactly TWICE since 1975 - a graduation of my niece, and a graduation of my nephew.

Now, it's nice and all, them inviting me to join them, but it got me to thinking. I actually took a few minutes to try and come up with who, from the 7th grade, I WOULD have graduated with, five years later.....

I came up with 6.....maybe.....out of around 50.

I just might have to attend to see who I COULD have graduated with....

Vertically Challenged

2010-07-02T14:14:00.002-05:00

This past week has been filled with cutting, raking, baling, and stacking hay.
"Make hay while the sun shines", as the old saying goes. Since it HAD been raining just about every day for weeks prior to this, everyone was getting antsy about getting some winter food for the livestock in the barn.

This was the first year we used any fertilizer on our native prairie grass. We also experimented with about an acre by spraying a water/milk mixture on it to see if it made a difference.

Our yield more then doubled, and the part we used milk on had an even greater raise in production. In addition to production, 95% of the hay is a wonderful, thin stemmed variety, that the animals love - it's not course or stemmy like a Brome or alfalfa. In addition, we had broadcast some Red Clover around the field this spring. Not TONS of it, but enough to start a good stand.

It wasn't all without difficulties, however - I made about 5 rounds of the field on Monday, when the Haybine quit working. It was a simple fix - but it effectively killed any chance of continuing mowing that day. The main belt that drives the reel decided that it had lived long enough, and gave up the ghost. The man I bought the mower from said it was the original belt that came with the machine when he bought it new in the 1970's.

Tuesday, I finished cutting, so it was fairly un-eventful. Raking on Wednesday, was a different story. I got about 3/4 done when the rake stopped turning. I couldn't afford to waste another day, so I baled it the way it was. I left some in the field due to not being able to finish raking, but that's the way it had to be.

After baling, Deb came out and threw hay bales like an old farm hand, and we got them into the barn. We ALMOST made it done before dark, but had to leave a few in the field overnight. It didn't take very long to get them all cleaned up Thursday morning.

When we stacked it in the barn, the bales reached all of the way out to the edge of a window I had open for airflow. Not thinking anything of it I stacked it right up along side the frame.

THAT'S when I started to hear THEM....

It started out as low, rubbing sounds on the wall of the barn, then escalated into thumps on the tin. It took a bit, but I finally figured out what was causing the commotion -

Daisy and Mabel had followed their noses and found the fresh hay. Mabel could actually stand on her tip-hooves, then STRETCH, and snag a small bite, but Daisy was left being tortured by the aroma.

If only Daisy were about 6" taller, then she, too, could "grab and go".

It's just that longing in her eyes that *almost* makes you feel sorry for her....almost.

Oh well, now that the hay is in for this round, we let her and Mabel out onto the yard and hayfield to clean up and fertilize.

Trouble is -

They won't want to come back in for supper.

UN-Civil Air Patrol

2010-06-26T12:18:00.004-05:00

During the course of the year, we have several overflights of different types of "aircraft" - everything from B2 bombers to Ch-53 helicopters. Most every day I hear or see at least one fighter aircraft zip over head, and there is the nearly constant overflights of local Cessna's and the like.

The Nebraska Air National Guard likes to "stop" by ever-so-often, too, flying their UH-60 Blackhawks, or the occasional KC-135 Tanker. Everything from Piper Cubs to an F-117, from Med-avac Helos, to F-16's - they all go by.

Lately, we've begun seeing a different kind of "fighter aircraft" - ones that are small, EXTREMELY agile, and are trained in all manner of tactics, including "kamikaze" attacks.

I'm talking about those pesky little Barn Swallows....

There I was, minding my own business - out using the leaf rake to sweep together a pile of fresh cut grass clippings when they attacked. They came from high above, swooping down to within inches of my head - so close, I could feel the snap of their wings as they zipped by.

The thing was, I was in the MIDDLE of the yard, 50 yards from ANYWHERE they could have a nest. This "Air Force truly has "aggressive" pilots....

I stopped working for a bit and watched them make their "strafing" runs at me - they would swoop down, zip by, then climb out, do a fancy "wing over" maneuver, then come zooming back toward my head. Some would just circle, but others would continually attack.

As I stood watching, I studied their flight plans and learned their tactics. Then, like an Epiphany from above, I had an idea.....

How good of reaction does a Swallow have, anyhow?

I followed the most offending feather dart, and watched her as she made her next attack run. I waited....waited.....waited....Then, just as the bird was coming in at ear level, and about 4 feet from me....

I lifted the handle on the rake and placed the "fan" of the rake directly in it's flight path.

I don't know who invented "air brakes", but I DO know one particular Barn Swallow that is glad she had them installed. I could almost hear the brakes squeal, and smell the burning rubber as that crazy bird stopped in mid air, slid sideways, then BARELY missed the rake. She flew of cussing loudly.

For what it's worth, they still circled me, but at a more "wary" distance. I still need to give out a refresher course every once-in-awhile, but things have calmed down.

They must have gotten tired of swooping the cats and decided to move on to other "targets".

For now, I still have the upper hand....

Chickens Are The Pits...

2010-06-23T22:16:00.003-05:00

Now that summer has "officially" arrived, there are tons of things to do (not that there AREN'T tons to do the rest of the year....). It seems that I still have stuff to do left after the time to do them in expires.

The past few days we've added cherry picking to the list of things to do. Deb had some Cherry jelly that her mom made last year, and decided that she needed to make some for us when the Cherries ripened this year. We don't have a tree (yet), but the neighbors do.

So, the "hunter-gatherer" brought home the freshly killed cherries, and the "Domestic Goddess" turned them into jelly.

We now have enough jelly and jam of various flavors to last about 9 years....

The thing about Cherry jelly is, after you cook the little buggers down, mash them up, and drain off the juice, you are left with a mass of blood colored dead fruit bodies to deal with.

My parents used to dump them in a crock and make wine out of it all. Of course, you could pit them first, and make jam instead of jelly but, we don't have a pitter - and neither of us wanted to add "hand pitting" to our list.

The best solution was to feed them to the chickens.

I dutifully collect the now compacted mass (due to sitting in the colander over night), and head out to let the feathered beasts have fun with it.

Knowing that I'd never get them into the feed trough with a couple dozen heads sticking in it, I filled the feeder before opening the door to let the vultures out. After the first inquisitive hens decided that it was good, they "let the cat out of the bag" and announced it to the whole herd. Everyone came flying in make sure they got a share.

I've give a lot of food to a lot of animals over the years, and seen some pretty amazing stuff. I remember someone making Beef Stroganhoff one night. I mixed the leftovers with about a 1/2 cup of leftover peas, and fed it to the dog. The next morning, the stroganhoff was gone, and a nice pile of licked SHINY clean peas lay in the bottom of the dish.

I found out chickens are the same way. I dumped two gallon containers of mashed cherries and pits into the feeder, and an hour later found nothing but LICKED CLEAN pits.

I made sure I put it ALL in the feeder, but they weren't so neat while eating. I can envision hungry feather dusters wallowing the pits around in their beaks while they lick them clean, then "Patooie!", spitting them out on the ground, then diving back in for another.

I'm sure the chickens appreciated the cherries, even though they had to work for the good parts.

It HAS to be better then digging through a cowpie with our face to get a nugget of corn.....

A Big Letdown...

2010-06-20T09:52:00.003-05:00

Since that (&$^*@ Daisy still hasn't had her calf, Mabel is still the only one who gets the privilege of being milked every day. Usually, the evening "squirt" is easier to get the flow going than the morning one.

I think Mabel likes to play games with me, especially when I get her out of bed. She enjoys the grain, but likes to make me work for the milk.

Lately, I've had them in a small pasture up the hill from the barn, so they like to trudge up - and OVER - the hill so they are out of "earshot" in the mornings. This makes me walk 3/4ths the way out there before they can see, or hear, me. They stand up, work their radar around and STAND THERE.

So, little old cow-trained me, marches up the hill, pokes them with a stick, and they get a move on toward the barn.

It didn't take but a few days before I got tired of this "game". I could have just closed the pasture gate, but I need them to eat down the pen and let the others rest a few days. They even added a new twist to the game - the radar would come up, but they would stay laying down until I was within stick poke range, then grumble and get to their feet.

Like I said, I tired of this "fun", so I decided that I just wouldn't fall for it no more....I still had to trudge up the hill so they could see me, but gave them a "take or or leave it" deal....

"Ok, you two want breakfast? Are you HUNGRY?"

Up goes the radar....

"Come on! Get to the barn!.....

Long pause, lots of radar movement and blinking....

"OK, come and get it, or I'm giving it to the goats...."

At this point, I turn around, and head back to the barn. I can only imagine the disbelieving and horrified looks the two exchanged. It MUST have been a few tense moments when they realized their little game was up and they might miss breakfast.

Hiding inside the barn and watching out a window, I was amazed how quickly they caved. In less then 2 minutes, two worried cows came RUNNING down the hill to try and catch me before I doled out their morning fare to the evil goats. They came barreling into the barn, snorting and shaking their heads. It was obvious that they were miffed at being out foxed - well, outfoxed on THIS one, anyway.

Mabel still has a few "tricks" up her hide.

Every morning, I clean her up, rub her down, massage her udder, etc, etc, and she STILL holds her milk up for as long as possible. Once she gets going, it comes out in a nice stream, it's just GETTING her to that point that can sometimes be nerve wracking.

In the past week or two, I've taken a new course - it's a variation of the BBQ sauce approach. I "strip" the good teat, while rubbing the back of the udder for a few seconds. If that doesn't work right off (and it NEVER does....), I try this -

While maintaining the rub on her udder with my right hand, I move my left hand to her back....

In my best Homer Simpson voice, I stroke Mabel, and say - "SHORT RIBS....MMMMMMMMM..."

Apparently, Mabel gets the message right off, and lets the milk flow.

So far, I've used this method almost two weeks, and it has worked EVERY time. This makes me wonder a couple of things -

How does Mabel know what short ribs are?

And -

Where are they hiding the TV?

I can't even watch the Simpsons.....

Moody Moo-Moo...

2010-06-14T12:52:00.004-05:00

I did it again! A totally reprehensible, evil, and malicious thing - and Daisy was NOT happy about it....

It's getting to the time of year where everyone around plays the game with the weather in hopes of cutting and baling hay. A few people got some alfalfa done, but GRASS hay is another story. It seems to rain just about every day - not a LOT, but enough to deter mowing.

The GOOD thing about this is, I have had more time to clean up the barn, and re-arrange things to make room for the hay - and the hay RACK. They way we do it, we back the rack into the barn, and put the hay on top of pallets on the floor. It works pretty good, but there has to be room for the hay rack (wagon, in case you didn't know....) to back into the barn.

Over the past weeks, I have been building the portable stanchion, then "testing", modifications, then getting the cows used to it. Mabel is still pretty much decided she doesn't want to use it (THAT will change), but Daisy makes a bee line to it twice a day. She has figured out that stanchion+food=Happy Cow.

Yesterday afternoon, I threw her a loop - and one she didn't like.

I had a few things, like my stock racks, some metal, etc, etc, that didn't need to be in the way in the barn, so I put them all in one big pile, ready to load into the pickup and take to another shed.

Since Daisy's new stanchion has been sitting in the doorway to the barn, it HAD to move so I could back the truck in.

I didn't know it until it was too late but, Daisy was WATCHING....

I already had the 8N hooked to the stanchion, so I hopped on, fired the tractor up, and looked over my shoulder to make sure I was clear to move. That's when I saw Daisy standing by the corner of the barn, head over the fence, with her "radar" up, wondering what I was doing with her mobile feed pan.

She was concerned, but all "heck" broke loose when her dinner table started to move away from her. She started hollering, and bellering her head off as she watched it roll away. I stopped about 75' from where I started, but she KNEW it was out of reach.

I got off the tractor and headed over to calm her down. Unfortunately, she stomped her feet, shook her head, and snorted at me. I tried to console her, but she got into a "mood" and stomped off before I could get within reach.

Ten seconds later, I see her hind end stomping down the hill, tail swishing back and forth, and her letting everyone in six square miles know she was upset. She stomped her way down the hill, across the creek, and up the hill to the road - the FARTHEST point she could get to in that pasture.

She stood out there, pouting and stamping for at least an hour - until it was supper time. I opened the back door, hollered for the both of them, and watched Mabel trudge on in. Daisy came marching up the hill, still pouting. She followed Mabel inside the barn, and watched her go off to the "big" stanchion in the milk room.

Poor Daisy, she just stood there in the barn, blinking, and wondering if she was going to get fed. She just couldn't believe her eyes when she didn't see the stanchion sitting there, and the pickup in it's place. FINALLY, I had to grab her halter (which she allowed without her normal attempt at making me miss), and lead her to an alternate feed pan I had set up for temporary use.

It took a few minutes, but she eventually got the idea and started to eat. When she finished, she turned around, and started staring at the pickup again, trying to figure out where her normal restaurant went.

I've never seen Daisy that mad! She probably figured she was going to miss supper, and wanted me to know she didn't like the idea.

Geesh! Some people's kids.....