After a weekend of birthday debauchery (thank you, dear KC friends!!!!), I moseyed my way back to North Mo. I stopped 'for a bit' at the farm to check in and see what projects are coming up. And, as is usually the case, my mom and I made dinner and started chatting and watching sports, and 'a bit' turned into midnight and I decided to stay the night.
So while mom was putting the leftovers away, I went to put the girls in their kennels for the night. (the 'girls' being what we call our three border collies. Although, I have to admit. There are some human girls I've wanted to put in kennels in my lifetime. But that's not a part of this particular story.)
One thing about the farm is, after the sun goes down, the place is DARK. We have a yard light, but it doesn't do all that much. So, I go out to get the girls with a flashlight. I find them out in the side yard, sniffing around at a shadowy lump on the ground. On further inspection, I find a mangy looking, curled up, glassy-eyed possum. Hadn't ever seen one of those before. All dead animals are sad, but EEEeeeeewww. So I put the girls up and fed them, and returned to the scene of the crime. The possum was still there. I nudged him with my boot, and he lolled over, tongue hanging out, lifeless. I thought about getting some gloves and disposing of him. But before doing that, I remembered just who I was dealing with ... a professional actor. He sure did look dead to me, but hey, who knows? So I left him there.
And in the morning, I went out to look ... and he had disappeared. It's a MIRACLE!!!! He had looked SO DEAD!!! Seriously, the glassy eyes and everything - them possums is miraculous!! If I ever see this one again, I think I'll name him Hey-seuss. Or maybe Lazarus. Or what was that guy's name in South America who woke up on the autopsy table last week?
Do you think that possums have 'near death experiences' when they do that? Like, do you think that possum is going to try and live a better life, now that he knows what the afterlife looks like? Maybe he feels like he's been given a second chance?
Ah yes. Something to possum. I mean, ponder. :)
Monday, September 24, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
At First Light (and a cute side story)
Sure, it’s a phrase you hear often in old cowboy flicks. But I’ll be damned if it’s not still useful. I got up this morning when it was still dark and had coffee with my folks. They’re going to work cattle today. Why today, you ask? Since it’s the middle of the week, and I can’t help because I have to work? Well, my dad’s going to be out of town for the next couple of weekends with his job, and they have to be done this month, so that’s just how it works out. But, of course wanting to do what I can, we finished our coffee then I went with them ‘at first light’ to get the cattle in the lot. Many, many things can go wrong at this stage of working cattle, so the more people you have to help, the better. Cows can run through fences, they can JUMP fences (I swear to God it's true. You’d never guess, but some of these old girls can jump like gazelles. You can’t help but marvel at their grace, even as you’re seeing RED because they just got out and now you have to go get them back in.), they can just scatter and all run different directions around the field … the possibilities are endless for them, actually. But, when you have several people all moving them in the same direction, they usually go where they’re supposed to. And this morning, except for one cow/calf pair, we got all the girls exactly where we wanted them. And we did it all at first light. (incidentally, is there a 'second light'?)
The Side Story:
Then, I promptly jumped in my car and zoomed back to Kirksville to get ready for work. I was going slow enough, though, that I happened to catch a sight that made me giggle. The highway to Kirksville goes through several teeny towns. Through one of these towns, there’s an access road that leads down to a small river. Every once in a while, you’ll see people who have parked their vehicles on one end of this access road and walk to the river and back for exercise. This morning, an old farmer about 65 years old, was out walking. He had his white tennis shoes, his short-sleeve, snap-front blue plaid shirt tucked neatly into his blue jeans, his cap … and his pliers on his belt.
Because you simply never know what you’re going to run up against when out walking. The first time you don't bring your pliers is when you need them the most. It's a good life lesson there. :)
The Side Story:
Then, I promptly jumped in my car and zoomed back to Kirksville to get ready for work. I was going slow enough, though, that I happened to catch a sight that made me giggle. The highway to Kirksville goes through several teeny towns. Through one of these towns, there’s an access road that leads down to a small river. Every once in a while, you’ll see people who have parked their vehicles on one end of this access road and walk to the river and back for exercise. This morning, an old farmer about 65 years old, was out walking. He had his white tennis shoes, his short-sleeve, snap-front blue plaid shirt tucked neatly into his blue jeans, his cap … and his pliers on his belt.
Because you simply never know what you’re going to run up against when out walking. The first time you don't bring your pliers is when you need them the most. It's a good life lesson there. :)
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Yahoo! had an article today, about a rising trend in prep schools – growing gardens that the students work. They grow everything organically, and use some of it in their school dining hall. The purpose of these revived ‘agriculture’ programs, they said, is to teach kids where their food comes from, what kind of effort it takes to grow, and what kind of effect ‘conventional’ farming has on the environment.
Overall, I think their intentions are good. Kids have to actually do some physical labor (PREP SCHOOL KIDS even!), they learn how to get their hands dirty, and they learn to appreciate that food has to come from somewhere other than the supermarket. The efforts they're making there are admirable, I think. They're inadvertently raising awareness of what farmers do for the world. What I do not think is beneficial to these programs, is the part where kids are learning how 'bad' it is to farm conventionally – with pesticides, herbicides, fertilizer, etc.
Sure, on a very, very small scale, they’re probably getting a couple of meals worth of food out of their garden. They don’t have to totally survive on what they grow, and they’re not having to make a living at it. They’re most likely being taught to think that growing food organically is the only way we ought to do it. But they’re not getting the whole picture. It takes a hundred thousand times more input, effort, planning, money, machinery, and yes, chemicals, to have enough to sell for a profit – to live on for the next year – than it does to have a green bean or two on your plate every once in a while. Organic farming is a very nice idea, but until the economics of farming get a drastic makeover, I don't think it is widely feasible.
Plus, I wonder if any of these kids' parents use chemicals on their lawn. While we’re all up in arms about caring for our planet perhaps people who think farmers are the only ones who need to change their ways, ought to take a look at their luscious, Technicolor-green grass… ? But that’s another soap box entirely. :)
Overall, I think their intentions are good. Kids have to actually do some physical labor (PREP SCHOOL KIDS even!), they learn how to get their hands dirty, and they learn to appreciate that food has to come from somewhere other than the supermarket. The efforts they're making there are admirable, I think. They're inadvertently raising awareness of what farmers do for the world. What I do not think is beneficial to these programs, is the part where kids are learning how 'bad' it is to farm conventionally – with pesticides, herbicides, fertilizer, etc.
Sure, on a very, very small scale, they’re probably getting a couple of meals worth of food out of their garden. They don’t have to totally survive on what they grow, and they’re not having to make a living at it. They’re most likely being taught to think that growing food organically is the only way we ought to do it. But they’re not getting the whole picture. It takes a hundred thousand times more input, effort, planning, money, machinery, and yes, chemicals, to have enough to sell for a profit – to live on for the next year – than it does to have a green bean or two on your plate every once in a while. Organic farming is a very nice idea, but until the economics of farming get a drastic makeover, I don't think it is widely feasible.
Plus, I wonder if any of these kids' parents use chemicals on their lawn. While we’re all up in arms about caring for our planet perhaps people who think farmers are the only ones who need to change their ways, ought to take a look at their luscious, Technicolor-green grass… ? But that’s another soap box entirely. :)
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Mulching, Sorting, Dipping
This weekend was one of the most spectacularly beautiful - ever. Mid-60s and sunny, it made me so happy to have useful, productive things to do outside.
But first, I had to check out the local karaoke scene on Friday night. Met the bar owner, the kind-hearted but sad old alcoholic, a truck driver who sang 'You Picked a Fine Time to Leave Me Lucille,' and a couple of other characters I'm sure to run into again. To be honest, it wasn't anything close to the Red Balloon in KC, but since the Balloon is one in a million, that's to be expected. However, the beers were cold and cheap, the people were fun, and the book has a few gems in it that I can work with, so it's karaoke game on as far as I'm concerned!
Saturday, I took the truck and my dog and checked cattle. We had a missing bull at one farm. Mom and Dad hadn't seen him for a couple of days. This is typically cause for a bit of alarm, as the bull could have gotten out on a neighbor's farm and that's no fun. When that happens, you have to call your neighbors, get him in, fix the fence, it's a pain. However, Kip and I successfully located him, just chillin' under a tree by the creek. Good deal.
Next, Kip and I went to another of our farms where my Dad has had some bulldozer work done. There is a creek running through this farm, and the creek is so deep that it separated off a few acres where we couldn't get to it with a truck. Not ideal, because you want to be able to access your whole farm for various reasons. So, with all the dozer work, we put some grass seed down on it, and I worked most of the day Saturday spreading out hay on top of the seed. It'll probably take a couple more days of working to get it all covered, but I made a good dent in it. While I was working, I listened to my Cardinals drop yet another game to the Cubs. Boo, Redbirds.
Sunday was a busy day too, Mom and I worked on sorting some of the things in a recently-deceased family member's estate. I cannot fathom keeping some of the things this elderly family member kept. Newspapers from the 60s, calendars from the 80s, bank statements and ledgers from the 40s ... I am fairly certain the trash man never went to that house. But he's got his hands full now!
Sunday evening was a 'neighborhood' party. A neighboring family on one of our farms had a son they were going to baptize in the pond behind their house, then have a bonfire and dinner. I have to be honest. I didn't really want to go. I was totally exhausted from working outside all weekend, so it took some convincing, but I finally went. And had a wonderful time. People are just so different here. You walk in to a room of strangers, and walk out with a whole passel of new friends.
So, a jam-packed weekend of funning and farming and cattle and conversation and now, I am going to bed!
But first, I had to check out the local karaoke scene on Friday night. Met the bar owner, the kind-hearted but sad old alcoholic, a truck driver who sang 'You Picked a Fine Time to Leave Me Lucille,' and a couple of other characters I'm sure to run into again. To be honest, it wasn't anything close to the Red Balloon in KC, but since the Balloon is one in a million, that's to be expected. However, the beers were cold and cheap, the people were fun, and the book has a few gems in it that I can work with, so it's karaoke game on as far as I'm concerned!
Saturday, I took the truck and my dog and checked cattle. We had a missing bull at one farm. Mom and Dad hadn't seen him for a couple of days. This is typically cause for a bit of alarm, as the bull could have gotten out on a neighbor's farm and that's no fun. When that happens, you have to call your neighbors, get him in, fix the fence, it's a pain. However, Kip and I successfully located him, just chillin' under a tree by the creek. Good deal.
Next, Kip and I went to another of our farms where my Dad has had some bulldozer work done. There is a creek running through this farm, and the creek is so deep that it separated off a few acres where we couldn't get to it with a truck. Not ideal, because you want to be able to access your whole farm for various reasons. So, with all the dozer work, we put some grass seed down on it, and I worked most of the day Saturday spreading out hay on top of the seed. It'll probably take a couple more days of working to get it all covered, but I made a good dent in it. While I was working, I listened to my Cardinals drop yet another game to the Cubs. Boo, Redbirds.
Sunday was a busy day too, Mom and I worked on sorting some of the things in a recently-deceased family member's estate. I cannot fathom keeping some of the things this elderly family member kept. Newspapers from the 60s, calendars from the 80s, bank statements and ledgers from the 40s ... I am fairly certain the trash man never went to that house. But he's got his hands full now!
Sunday evening was a 'neighborhood' party. A neighboring family on one of our farms had a son they were going to baptize in the pond behind their house, then have a bonfire and dinner. I have to be honest. I didn't really want to go. I was totally exhausted from working outside all weekend, so it took some convincing, but I finally went. And had a wonderful time. People are just so different here. You walk in to a room of strangers, and walk out with a whole passel of new friends.
So, a jam-packed weekend of funning and farming and cattle and conversation and now, I am going to bed!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Death of a Legend
There was a story of a research parrot's death on MSN this morning. The parrot had learned to recognize 50 objects, colors, count ... the article said he was like a colleague to the research scientists who worked with him evey day. They were very, very blue over his passing.
The death of a dear 'friend,' reminded me of another sad death that occurred recently on Broken B. I think I've spent a couple of posts talking about how proud (and rightly so) my dad is of the genetics he's put together in our cattle herd. He contributes one decision, in particular, to a good amount of his success: about 10 years ago, he bought a bull that everyone told him not to buy. He was green (young), and all the old farmers said he wouldn't turn out to be anything special. But dad had done his homework on his lineage and pedigree, and thought otherwise. And he was right. That bull has thrown some of the most awesome calves I've ever seen (yeah, I'm gonna say it) in the tri-county area. He has a lot to do with how good our cattle herd is today.
A couple of weeks ago, we had several spectacular thunderstorms here. Rained like crazy, thunder crashing and lightning snaking across the sky. During storms like those, you can expect the lightning to occasionally strike trees, barns, or even animals. And during one of the big storms, the old bull that dad was so proud of was struck by lightning and killed.
It was a dark day at Broken B. He was given a proper burial, and we're even going to construct a grave marker for him. There probably won't ever be another one quite like him, on our farm at least. True, he couldn't count or speak like that parrot, and he didn't get his own story on MSN, but I'm pretty sure that parrot didn't have as many near-perfect progeny as he did. He will be sorely missed.
The death of a dear 'friend,' reminded me of another sad death that occurred recently on Broken B. I think I've spent a couple of posts talking about how proud (and rightly so) my dad is of the genetics he's put together in our cattle herd. He contributes one decision, in particular, to a good amount of his success: about 10 years ago, he bought a bull that everyone told him not to buy. He was green (young), and all the old farmers said he wouldn't turn out to be anything special. But dad had done his homework on his lineage and pedigree, and thought otherwise. And he was right. That bull has thrown some of the most awesome calves I've ever seen (yeah, I'm gonna say it) in the tri-county area. He has a lot to do with how good our cattle herd is today.
A couple of weeks ago, we had several spectacular thunderstorms here. Rained like crazy, thunder crashing and lightning snaking across the sky. During storms like those, you can expect the lightning to occasionally strike trees, barns, or even animals. And during one of the big storms, the old bull that dad was so proud of was struck by lightning and killed.
It was a dark day at Broken B. He was given a proper burial, and we're even going to construct a grave marker for him. There probably won't ever be another one quite like him, on our farm at least. True, he couldn't count or speak like that parrot, and he didn't get his own story on MSN, but I'm pretty sure that parrot didn't have as many near-perfect progeny as he did. He will be sorely missed.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Hay is for ...
Yesterday I saw several HUGE truckloads of hay, heading south for the winter. I used to just think that all those farmers in the south were just crazy – why didn’t they just buy hay from their own area instead of paying all the trucking costs to get it from way up here? But after the drought we experienced a couple of years ago, I completely understand, and I feel terrible for them.
During the last drought in North Missouri, my parents (and every other producer in the area) were thinking they were going to either have to a) buy more land with ponds on it to put the cattle on – not the most frugal plan, being that land is around $1,300 an acre, or b) buy some hay to feed because the grass was all burned up and the cows didn’t have anything to eat – also not terribly frugal, being that big bales of hay are around $60 each, or c) sell some cows – not something that anyone, anywhere, anytime, wants to be forced to do, because at that time the market had tanked.
But my parents held out as long as they could, and it finally began to rain. There really isn’t any good that comes out of a drought, except that the farmers who have extra hay get to make a little extra money selling it to farmers who don’t have any. Believe it or not, it’s become such a trade that there are even hay brokers who are in charge of such things. They kind of stalk around the areas of the country where there’s an abundance of bales sitting out on the hills, and they make offers to the guys running the tractors in the field. And this year especially, I bet those brokers are making some serious bank off the poor guys down south who have nothing to feed their cattle this winter.
It’s always a gamble, isn’t it? Sometimes you’re up, sometimes you’re down, but because you love it, you keep on playing the game.
During the last drought in North Missouri, my parents (and every other producer in the area) were thinking they were going to either have to a) buy more land with ponds on it to put the cattle on – not the most frugal plan, being that land is around $1,300 an acre, or b) buy some hay to feed because the grass was all burned up and the cows didn’t have anything to eat – also not terribly frugal, being that big bales of hay are around $60 each, or c) sell some cows – not something that anyone, anywhere, anytime, wants to be forced to do, because at that time the market had tanked.
But my parents held out as long as they could, and it finally began to rain. There really isn’t any good that comes out of a drought, except that the farmers who have extra hay get to make a little extra money selling it to farmers who don’t have any. Believe it or not, it’s become such a trade that there are even hay brokers who are in charge of such things. They kind of stalk around the areas of the country where there’s an abundance of bales sitting out on the hills, and they make offers to the guys running the tractors in the field. And this year especially, I bet those brokers are making some serious bank off the poor guys down south who have nothing to feed their cattle this winter.
It’s always a gamble, isn’t it? Sometimes you’re up, sometimes you’re down, but because you love it, you keep on playing the game.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Incredible Talent
Okay, so this has nothing to do with the farm, but it can't be ALL farm life ALL the time, now can it?!
I am consistently amazed by people who can create such beautiful works of art that have a powerful visual (and in this case technical as well) story to them. This is pretty incredible. Watch it if you have a sec ...
http://potw.news.yahoo.com/s/potw/23115/strokes-of-genius
I am consistently amazed by people who can create such beautiful works of art that have a powerful visual (and in this case technical as well) story to them. This is pretty incredible. Watch it if you have a sec ...
http://potw.news.yahoo.com/s/potw/23115/strokes-of-genius
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Phase II
Phase II
Part of the deal I made with my parents when I moved to the area was that I would get myself a solid job with a good, steady paycheck. This aspect of my relocation has confused some people, I think. The question I usually get is: ‘But isn’t farming a full-time job?’ and FOR SURE, it most definitely is full-time, and then some. But. Farming is also inherently volatile. You can bust your ever-lovin’ arse 24/7 on a farm one year and just manage to break even. Then the next year, your luck, the markets, and the weather all align in sweet, sweet harmony, and you can make a little bank.
So, to use a word I’ve heard one or two times here of late, to ‘hedge’ my position, I got a day job. It’s a great job, and it’s working out pretty nicely so far. The only not-perfect thing about it is that to get any kind of salary, I had to go to a town about 30 miles away from the farm. I decided that the easiest thing to do would be to get an apartment in the bigger town and just commute to the farm on weekends.
Welcome to The Annex
The bigger town I mentioned is a decent-sized college town. And did I mention that I got my sweet job at exactly the same time that all the college kids were coming back to school? And did I mention that there are NO good places to live when school is in session?! Yeah. I drove around, called through the classified ads, drove around, called real estate companies, drove around … no luck at all. Was getting truly disheartened at the realization that I might have no other choice than to live with my parents. Made more phone calls through the classifieds.
Score – one apartment was actually available! I get directions to said abode, and take off in the general direction. Getting closer and closer to the location, I thought, ‘Wow, I didn’t know there were any apartments on this end of town.’ Then I arrive at the spot. Here’s my train of thoughts: “Um, this is an auto body shop. With a set of stairs going up the side to what is probably the apartment on the upper floor. NO WAY. I am not going to live with paint and cutting torch fumes.’ Then I proceeded to drive away without even looking at it. About two blocks away, I think, ‘Wait a minute. What ELSE have I got to look at right now?! What the hell.’ So I go back.
And IT IS AWESOME. The place is gigantic, the air filtration system is totally separate from the shop so I got NO fumes at all, the shop is only open from 8-5 M-F, I have no noisy neighbors, the landlords are SUPER-nice (They volunteered to help me if I ever have car trouble, they’re paying for a couple of extra utilities they don’t have to, and they even restore old cars. When I asked if they’d let me help them fix up Marge next year, they were stoked), it’s right next to a running trail, it’s fantastic. I signed a lease right then. It already has a name: Broken B East – The Annex.
Oh, and did I mention this college town has a sweet dive bar with Friday night karaoke? Don’t worry, when I go, you’ll hear about it.
Part of the deal I made with my parents when I moved to the area was that I would get myself a solid job with a good, steady paycheck. This aspect of my relocation has confused some people, I think. The question I usually get is: ‘But isn’t farming a full-time job?’ and FOR SURE, it most definitely is full-time, and then some. But. Farming is also inherently volatile. You can bust your ever-lovin’ arse 24/7 on a farm one year and just manage to break even. Then the next year, your luck, the markets, and the weather all align in sweet, sweet harmony, and you can make a little bank.
So, to use a word I’ve heard one or two times here of late, to ‘hedge’ my position, I got a day job. It’s a great job, and it’s working out pretty nicely so far. The only not-perfect thing about it is that to get any kind of salary, I had to go to a town about 30 miles away from the farm. I decided that the easiest thing to do would be to get an apartment in the bigger town and just commute to the farm on weekends.
Welcome to The Annex
The bigger town I mentioned is a decent-sized college town. And did I mention that I got my sweet job at exactly the same time that all the college kids were coming back to school? And did I mention that there are NO good places to live when school is in session?! Yeah. I drove around, called through the classified ads, drove around, called real estate companies, drove around … no luck at all. Was getting truly disheartened at the realization that I might have no other choice than to live with
Score – one apartment was actually available! I get directions to said abode, and take off in the general direction. Getting closer and closer to the location, I thought, ‘Wow, I didn’t know there were any apartments on this end of town.’ Then I arrive at the spot. Here’s my train of thoughts: “Um, this is an auto body shop. With a set of stairs going up the side to what is probably the apartment on the upper floor. NO WAY. I am not going to live with paint and cutting torch fumes.’ Then I proceeded to drive away without even looking at it. About two blocks away, I think, ‘Wait a minute. What ELSE have I got to look at right now?! What the hell.’ So I go back.
And IT IS AWESOME. The place is gigantic, the air filtration system is totally separate from the shop so I got NO fumes at all, the shop is only open from 8-5 M-F, I have no noisy neighbors, the landlords are SUPER-nice (They volunteered to help me if I ever have car trouble, they’re paying for a couple of extra utilities they don’t have to, and they even restore old cars. When I asked if they’d let me help them fix up Marge next year, they were stoked), it’s right next to a running trail, it’s fantastic. I signed a lease right then. It already has a name: Broken B East – The Annex.
Oh, and did I mention this college town has a sweet dive bar with Friday night karaoke? Don’t worry, when I go, you’ll hear about it.
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