Lions and tigers and cows, oh my!

Let’s just say I took some time off for Labor Day. And to pick up Dad and Deja. Dad and I stayed up talking until 4 a.m. His clock is still skewed. So we’ve been reorganizing. I processed tomato sauce today and we’ve got venison jerky marinating. Tomorrow we start drying after we move cows and I take Deja back to college. Thank the gods I’m not there.

I watched a Nature on cows tonight, “Holy Cow.” It was extremely interesting to me as a cattle breeder. It covered the human-cow relationship since domestication, although who domesticated who remains a mystery, much like the controversy with dogs. The most interesting items, at least to me, was that according to the author of Fast Food Nation, Henry Ford (a fair god in Michigan) got the idea for the assembly line from the slaughter houses in Chicago. A dissemble-ly line, if you will. Second, industrialization has desensitized us as a culture to the death of the animals who feed us. In contrast, the Maasai of Africa give their animals a clean death, honor their sacrifice, and use every part of the animal, as many societies have done throughout history. One interviewee called industrialized farming a blip on the screen, since it is non-sustainable. Some ranchers are now gentling their cattle, for calving purposes, something that benefits both man, who doesn’t get hurt as badly, and for the cattle, who live a better life.

I was taught that as a farmer or animal husbandrist, our job is to give the animals in our care the best life possible. But I’ve learned since that a good death is as important as well. I believe that global societies would be much improved with more attention to the lives of the animals who feed us. We should honor these animals, not fight for their rights, but for their welfare. I am not an animal rights activist. Animals do not have rights, not as people do, but people do have an obligation, a responsibility, to care for the animals, and the world, around us.

I’ll get off my soapbox now.

"To see you naked is to recall the Earth." (Federico Garcia Lorca)

I’m wearing a blue tee today that says barenaked physical ed. on it. Gotta love Steve and Barry’s. Thanks to a shopping trip with the girls yesterday, I’m appreciating my solitude today. Shopping with a Caribbean is always a lesson in patience. They look at everything twenty times. I’ve waited for over an hour before, after finishing with my grocery shopping, for Caribbean friends to finish theirs. I’m not complaining, I’m just noting a cultural difference... or the fact that I shop like a guy. Know what I need, look for it, don’t find it and leave, or buy it and leave. I’m not as bad as a guy, but when I shop I like to keep moving. Talking is great, but so is a good hustle. Unless it’s a book store. At that point, just change my address.

In honor of the pink (I know, pink is a mental disease, not a color) elephant boxers I bought yesterday, I decided to add a little side note on elephants since they remind me of big cows. The elephant is a very sacred creature. Like cattle, they are a symbol of fertility. They can be vengeful if wronged and show a great interest in death and dying, displaying sorrow over the death of loved ones. Those with elephant totems should pay attention to clouds, or the mist that separates worlds, as well as smells. Elephants smell very well and those with this totem may find scents open doors for them. Family is also an important element with the elephant totem. Check out Ted Andrews’ Animal-Speak for more info. Also, Nature on PBS produced "Nature: Echo of the Elephants" and "Echo and Other Elephants." I think I’ve seen both and they rocked.

I gave up on 100 Years of Solitude. Good book, but too deep for me. Try it again next time. I’ve got so much reading right now it’s ridiculous. And of course I got another book yesterday, but I couldn’t pass it up. It’s called The Compassionate Carnivore by Catherine Friend. It’s about sustainable ag and animal husbandry. Hard to get more up my alley than that without a dragon or a dog. So I guess the rest of the day will go to Taylor and writing practice as well as some major reading on Lorca, which is due back, and some Loreena McKennitt for background noise. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even go sit out on the porch today. :-)

"All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was" Toni Morrison.

Well blogging kinda went to shit this weekend for no fucking good reason. Gram called first thing with a calf alert. Luckily, it was a false alarm. I’ll be so glad to get my cows across the road where I can deal with them better when they calve. It’s been a good month with Dad gone, but I’m ready for him to come home now that I’m over being pissed. I never should have been mad in the first place, stupid shit, but sometimes girls get angry for no good reason. I don’t that often, so once in awhile I figure I’m due for a good temper tantrum. Nothing’s gone too wrong with Dad gone and the cooler weather has made it easier on Max. The last few days have really taken their toll on the old man. The heat and humidity, so typical of a Michigan August, take it out on the old dog. He’s part Chow-chow and black Lab so his hair keeps him very warm.

The cows looked great this morning. They’ve got that full, healthy bloom to them that only pregnant cows get. They feel good and they look good, and they know it. Sexy bitches is a term that comes to mind. It makes me feel good that I’ve created an environment where they can be so happy and content.

We got Deja moved this weekend. Today is her first day back to college. I’ve been smiling all morning with the thought that I don’t have to go to school… ever again if I don’t want to. College was good for me, but learning on my own has been great. I like choosing my own reading and practicing writing more intensely than in creative writing courses. But I have good self-discipline and enjoy independent study.

Been practicing with character emotions this week. I usually don’t like writing exercises, but these are helping to shake things up a bit and help identify a range of emotions. One thing about it, cows are a lot easier to write about than fucking feelings.

Cats, dogs, and literature

After so much death and destruction, it seems almost a false lull yesterday and today. I keep expecting something to go wrong. The bulls will probably rip the gates to the hay barn down and the cows will be in desperate need of water. If it wasn’t so hot today I’d go work at the farm and maybe ride Argo. He’s still in a funk over Iris. After the cow episode, that seems like weeks ago now. It seems that thinking about death, thinking about a person or animal going out of your life forever is worse than it actually happening. I get sad when I think about not seeing Iris’s floppy lip when I go out to the barn or when I think about never getting to have a beer on the porch with my grandpa. But thinking about the never agains is worse than the actual. I shouldn’t be in this type of mood today. Everything is going well, and I might get to go out for beers tonight. Maybe it’s a farmer’s cynicism, but there’s an air of something off today. Like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Zip and Deja’s cat are an interesting pair. This morning, Zip laid on Shay’s head while Shay struggled with him. I think the cat liked it.

I’ve been reading 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel Marquez. Interesting book, but I’m not too proud to resort to sparks notes. Also reading the complete poems of Lorca. I love the way he has with language. It seems so familiar somehow. Rural and beautiful yet elegant. As much as I love literature, all aspects of it, it still seems like I can’t quite absorb it all at once. Maybe that’s part of the allure.

Calving takes my sanity

Oh fuck. What a yesterday. We put Iris down first thing in the morning. Her buddy, Agro, looked stricken. Can’t tell me horses don’t have feelings. He’s moped around ever since, even coming and leaning on me, which he never does. Then we stacked two hundred squares bales in the back barn, which consisted of climbing over the old bucket, the mower condition and the roller, and staking around the disk. I tried to dig a hole for the horse, but didn’t have the coordination so we called my cousin to stop by after work.

Then we went to lunch.

We got back to the farm about 3:30, got the horse buried by maybe four. Went down to check the cows and found 82N calving in the thornapples. We got her up and made a run to TCS for calf drugs. No progress when we got back so we got shit around to move the whole herd across the road. We got it going our way but three vehicles passed my Gramma and my sometimes roommate sitting in their cars in the road so we stopped the herd, the herd split, but Dana and I kept the cow going, and got her across. The bulls broke out after we got the cow settled, so we rearranged panels and locked the bulls out. At dark we got the major fires put out and decided to let the cow settle (which we’d been trying to do for about four hours). I went back to the farm about 10:30 and still no progress. I checked the cow and found a tail. No front feet, no back feet, just a tail. Several phone calls and an hour and a half later, the same vet who euthanatized the horse in the morning lay in the mud pulling a calf.

By 12:30 a.m., the calf came, already several days dead. Black heifer calf, of course. Luckily, there wasn’t a twin and the cow came out of it all right. This morning she and my close-up heifer, 30S, went out to graze and seem to be taking it easy.

All in all, it could have gone a lot worse. Iris had a good, easy death. The cow is okay. And my hips are a little sore from moving and running sprints. Hopefully the cows can keep themselves in line until we find Deja an apartment today. That’s not a lot to ask, is it? After all, their due date isn’t until the 25th.

Iris

I’m grieving a little tonight. I care for a lot of geriatrics on the farm right now, old dog, old woman, old horse, old cow, and old tractor. Not to mention the old buildings and equipment. I’m usually fully prepared for something old to go to hell on a daily basis. But I found I really wasn’t prepared for my old horse to go down Friday night. Well, we said, her feet just got trimmed, must be sore. And besides, she got back up. She did that all weekend. Today, she didn’t get back up.

I find it hard to describe my feelings. I’m happy that I got all this time with her the last few months. I’m sad she’s leaving. Because it seems in life that there is never enough time. I keep crying when I think that she is the last animal on the place who knew my grandpa. It’s not much but my memories with her keep grandpa alive a little. It feels like with her dying that his life gets erased just a little bit more. But isn’t that all dying is? Being slowly erased from life?

Oh I could get quite morose tonight I see. It doesn’t help that Argo is worried over Iris finally or that Max, my 18 year old rott-lab-chow mix laid on my foot tonight over a beer. He doesn’t need people like Zip does so for him to seek out attention is rare.

I’m not looking forward to burying a horse tomorrow. I’ve never done it. I didn’t want to have to start with her. I want to give my horse a good death, a death equal to what she gave in life. And what she gave has been compassion, patience, gratitude, temperance, beauty, kindness, and peace. I ask only that I can give her a death equal to what she gave in life. (Not a tall order or anything.)

Counting cows

I counted cows Monday morning, or bulls and steers to be more precise. Anyone who has dealt with livestock knows the moment I’m talking about when you go “One, two, three, four… five.” Wait a minute. Wait a minute. “One, two, three, four… five.”

When I left Friday, I had four head. I returned from my weekend of drunken debauchery to find five head.

Apparently, one of my close-up cows (soon to calve, for those less familiar with my slang) got sick of living across the road on pasture with the girls and took it upon herself to move in with the bulls and steers who live near the barns. We’ve been meaning to move the cows as soon as I have a place to put them around the buildings, so I can corral the mommas when they calve. This heifer (cow who hasn’t had a calf yet) decided she wanted to be near the maternity ward apparently, because she looks like the first one who’ll go.

Chaos. Just chaos.

It shouldn’t surprise me. After all, the cows moved themselves to grass this spring. Why wouldn’t they move themselves back when they got near to calving?

I tossed the house this week and between moving boxes and running the shop vac (don’t mess with my dust bunnies, they’re more like vampire rabbits with rabies), my dog has lived in terror. He’s pretty neurotic anyway, but the vacuum sends him over the edge. He either cowers under my bed (not an easy task since I stow so much shit under it), hides out in the crawl space where my great-great-great-grandparents kept the hard cider, or b-lines for the truck or car. At least he quit high tailing it to the neighbors’.

Oh and the sheep got stuck under a horse yesterday so the horse I was trying to back out of a slip stall couldn’t move and the dog just made them bunch tighter underneath the other horse. Dad always said the reason our horses aren’t kick-y is because the sheep run/stand underneath them while the horses are tied in the slip stalls. I didn’t believe him. I think I’m starting to.

See? Chaos.