Sigh of Relief

It has been one of those "Unfortunately/Fortunately" mornings around here.

UNFORTUNATELY:  I am surrounded by whiny, sick people. 

FORTUNATELY:  They are on the mend.

UNFORTUNATELY:  Jed hit a deer last nite, and it cleaved off the driver's side mirror, dented the door, and peeled off some molding on the Farm Buick. 

FORTUNATELY:  The deer didn't wind up in the seat next to him.

UNFORTUNATELY:  Isabell turned up, but not alive.  No idea what happened to her.  No evidence of foul play.  No pun intended.   Naahhhh, pun intended.

FORTUNATELY:  I still have seven DRAKES.  (How does that happen...one female in the bunch and that is the one that bites the dust.  Go figure.)

UNFORTUNATELY:  Self-Browsing Sparkin' Sparta overindulged yesterday.  Not sure what he ate, but yesterday evening Jethro came running in to tell me that he thought Sparta was bloated, and that he was laying down and not getting up.  Upon inspection, it was determined that it was not "bloat"--which can be very serious, and even deadly--and Sparta was mobile, albeit slow.  I went out to check on him in the night, and found Moon and Lance crying at the fence.  With much trepidation, i called for Sparta and got no answer.  I continued calling as i made my way to the buck barn, and developed a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as i stood in the doorway and shined the flashlight on Sparta laying flat out in the corner of the barn, immobile, with his top legs lifted off the ground.

Stiff looking.

Dead looking.

I called from the doorway twice, and he didn't move.

As i took a step in, Sparta roused from his stupor, stood up, and gave a big stretch and a bigger toot.

Everything checked out okay, so i told him he better get over it because if he was still like this in the morning, i was gonna give him a good dose of Milk of Magnesia.

And NONE of us wanted THAT. 

FORTUNATELY:  This morning he was just fine, and out self-browsing again.  I am going to assume that the buck barn was highly flammable over the course of the night, and this would be why Moon and Lance slept outside.

UNFORTUNATELY:  Life on the farm is wearing me out. 

FORTUNATELY:  Have i told you that i am going on a trip?

And to finish things on a positive note, Mama Hen has had the chicks out in the doe yard, teaching them the ways of the world.  I tossed some tiny breadcrumbs for the tiny chickens to practice with, and then stood nearby with a big stick to help Mama Hen run off the interlopers.  

Check out the little feathered winglets. 

We Have Gone World Wide

Y'all wanna hear something fun?

On the dashboard for this blogger system (are you impressed by my technospeak?) they show you a map that indicates where your readers are from, by the week, month or year.

Over the course of time, we have had readers check in from all over the world, and we appear to have regulars in several places.  We haven't achieved every country yet, but we have hit every continent, except for Antarctica, and really, are we expecting to hear from anyone down there?  I am thinkin' that  anybody on that continent has way more important things to be doing than reading MY musings.

This week, for the first time ever, we have had readers from ALL SIX CONTINENTS in ONE WEEK!!!!

Isn't that cool? 

The doohickey also lists individual posts that are brought up (although not where they are being read,)  and i have found it interesting that two of the most viewed posts are "Pick A Bale of Cotton, Pick A Bale a Day," and "Meet Donkey Xote And Sancho Panza."  Wonder what it is about those two that causes them to get called up so much?

Get to be Cruise Director for 8 munchkins this weekend, gonna be Krewsitting, so will get back to ya on Monday...or maybe Tuesday--might be needin' a nap on Monday.

Have Ya Made Coffee Yet?

Sunrise didn't come out so well, just know that it was a lovely shade of pink this morning. 

Notice the girth on Dosidoe...she carries kids just like her mama.  Gonna be wide as a house. 
But don't mention it to her.
You know how sensitive The Gestating can be.

Look!!  The fuzzy guys are starting to get their feathers!  Soon they will learn to stand in front of the feeder instead of IN it.

Remember This? And Remember This.

Remember this?

Let's try to remember this...

...in the middle of the long, hot, dry summer that i suspect is headed our way.

How We Got Da Boyz

Y'all know George and Ralph are the backbone of our Livestock Guardian Team.  I cannot say enough good things about the Anatolian Shepherd.  If you have never read the March 13, 2011 posting "Da Boyz Dat Watch Our 'Hood," go back and catch that one, it talks about their amazing instincts.

Somehow i have been remiss in telling you how we acquired them, which must be rectified, coz, like just about everything else around here, it is a good story.

Once upon a time....

We had recently lost The Fair Lady Dulcinea, our Pyr mix guardian dog, and were in need of filling in a gap in the system.

As we were traveling home from a 4H livestock judging meet, i spied a big homemade sign on the side of the interstate that announced, "Anatolian Puppies" with a phone number.  I missed the last nine digits of the number, so we had to drive about 5 miles up the road to find a turnaround.  From the access road, i called the number, and unfortunately, got an answering machine, left an inquiry, and headed on home.

Now, at this point, i knew practically nothing about Anatolians--not a clue about their history, personality or size.  Pretty much all i could tell you was that they were reported to be excellent livestock guardians.

Very shortly after we got back to the house, i received a return phone call from a Mr. K., who explained that he had seven males left from a litter, that the pups had been born in a barn with goats (optimum scenario,) and that the dam and sire were from some whoop-di-doo lineage that was impressive, and yet meaningless to me.  We had a lovely conversation, he answered many questions about the dogs, and i was darn near smitten already.  After the sales pitch was good and done, i asked his price, which turned out to be more than fair, but still beyond my reach without careful budgeting and a lot of peanut butter.  I thanked Mr. K. profusely for his time and information, apologized, and told him that i was unable to make the financial commitment at that time, but would begin preparing now, and if he would be so kind as to give me a call the next time he had a litter, i would be ready to take one then. 

This was on a Friday.

Early Monday morning, i got a phone call from Mr. K.  Seems he had a family emergency over the weekend, and needed to move the pups on out immediately.  He had liked what he heard about our place over the phone, and could tell that we really wanted and NEEDED one of these dogs, and that if i would drive out there that morning (about 90 miles away,) he would GIVE me one of the pups.

I said, "Mr. K., i cannot afford to buy one of these dogs right now, but i am not looking for something for nothing, is there anything i can do to help you?"

He said, "It sure would help if you could find homes for the other six for me."

So i got on the phone, and in a couple of hours, called Mr. K. back, and told him that i had placed three more of the pups in good, working homes, and that each of the recipients had need of the animals, and were delighted and grateful.  Did he want me to continue making calls to try to place the other three? 

Mr. K said to wait, and to plan on coming out to pick the four up the next morning.  I asked how big the dogs were, so i could get all my crates prepared.  He said they weighed about 25 pounds a piece.

Tuesday morning, before the crack of dawn, Mr. K. calls and said he would meet me half way, and was bringing all the pups, be there at noon. 

All seven of them.

O-kaaayyyyy.........

Now i start thinking i have been had.  This guy must be a sociopath that just suckered me in and is now gonna pawn off seven mongrel dogs on a fool that has never even seen an Anatolian, so would not be any the wiser.

I called Susan, Dear Susan in a panic...What do i DO??  What if we meet up and i get a look at these dogs and they are half Chihuahua or something?  What if they are sickly, or aggressive?  What if this guy is a serial killer or something????????

Susan calmed me down, and said if anything didn't feel right, just walk away, i was under no obligation, and if it was a legit deal, we could figure it all out once we got them here.

Deep breath.  Okay. 

I set to getting my crates together, and now i am driving the pickup instead of the Farm Buick, but i can handle that. 

Let's see...7 dogs X 25# each, that = 175 pounds of dog.

I know pretty much what each of my crates carries in goat mass, so was figuring i could put three, possibly four pups in one crate, one in each of the others, a couple were going to be too small, but heck, if we had to, we could throw one of them in the floorboard of the cab.  It would all work out.  No sweat.

Jethro and i reached the appointed meeting place and parked so we could watch the entry for a white diesel pickup truck.

In time, we saw a white diesel truck pull in.

Pulling a 24 foot cattle trailer.

Surely that wasn't him.

The white diesel truck circled my pickup and stopped.

Hmmm...perhaps he is on his way to the sale barn with some of his livestock.

No, the trailer appears to be empty.

Mr. K. gets out, and i am much relieved to find that he does not look like a sociopath or a serial killer, but is the epitome of "Texas Good Old Boy."  We introduce ourselves and shake hands.  Being a firm believer that a looking someone in the eye and shaking their hand can pretty much tell ya what ya need to know about a man, my anxiety is relieved.  I am satisfied.

Mr. K. looks over at the crates in the bed of the pick up and asks where the rest of my carriers are.

I explained that i haul my goats around in these crates all the time, and that i can get 150#'s of goat in the big one, 50#'s of goat in each of the small ones, and that surely we can fit the dogs in there, and if not, one of them can ride up in the floorboard of the cab.

He kinda chuckles, and says, "You need more room."

He walks me around to the trailer, and i peer inside, and view the most massive pile of dogs i have ever seen.  They were all just laying there, nose to tail, like the journey had plum worn them out.  I had to look twice to make sure they were indeed PUPPIES. 

These dogs were 50 pounds a piece if they were a pound. 
The pile went from one side of the trailer to the other, and was at least six feet deep.  And they were 4 Month Old PUPPIES.

I said, "Mr. K., you said they weighed 25 pounds apiece!"

Mr. K. kinda scratched his head, and shifted his weight and said, "Well, they were....Once."

Mr. K. then offered to deliver them to our home, and after a bit of concideration, i decided this would be all right. 

We get on the road home, and as we are driving, i called Susan, and told her we had scored a trailer load of ponies, and to get ready for hers, coz i was gonna need to move them out as quickly as possible.  "And Susan, there ain't no Chihuahua involved here."

Long story short, Mr. K. pulled the trailer up to the sweetgum pen and helped me off-load the seven gentle giants.  We visited some that day, and have talked several times since--him checking in to see if it was working out for us, me to tell stories of what a blessing the dogs were to us.  You can make friends in the most unusal way sometimes.  He really is a nice man.

Because what i had read about Anatolian's said that they worked best in pairs, and since i had such an great opportunity, i decided to keep two of them, and had all of the other five placed in working homes within 24 hours.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

The End.

P.S.  For those of you that read Susan's blog, Aegis was one of these pups, and for those of you that haven't read it, get on over there at http://www.queenacresonline.blogspot.com/

Barn Report

Bawdy Maudy has finally figured out the cookie thing.

Maud required a little doctorin' this morning--nothing serious (i hope,) think it was just a piece of hay that got stuck in her eye and her body was fighting the intrusion, but after cleaning it up i treated it as if it were conjunctivitis (just in case.)  When the torture was all over, i grabbed a handful of cookies and was gonna try to coax her into a taste, but she was pretty ticked at me and wuddn't havin' any.  I tossed the cookies in a feed bowl, set it in front of her, and stepped away.  Took her a second, but once she got goin' it was all over but the shouting.

In other news, these guys made their appearance under the manger yesterday.  Looks like Mama Hen gone and done it again!

My guess is that this guy is a rooster.  He was hopping up and down trying to get her attention.  You know the bit, "Mama!!! Mama!!!! Mama!!!! Mama!!!"

Question:  Can anybody tell me what is wrong with this picture?

Answer:   They are all Bob's.

Isabell went MIA on Valentine's Day.  I hope she is sitting a nest somewhere, but i can't find her.  We'll know in 35 days, according to Susan, Dear Susan.

And we will end the report with a picture of The Lovely and Talented Paris and Miss Congeniality, Dosidoe.  No special reason.  They just stood still for the camera...and i love them.

Foreshadowing

fore-shad-ow  v. 1. to give an advanced indication or suggestion of.  2. presage

Countdown

ALA has helped make the anticipation sweeter by sending tidbits and reminders every couple of days.

This is one of the countdown clocks she sent.  The beer mug is a slider, and  has been working it's way across the picture.

Thought i would share it with you, just in case you wanted to enjoy the anticipation with me ;o)

ALA and i fancy ourselves "Beer Goddesses," and once upon a time were fairly adept at brewing.  Turned out some pretty fine brews, if i do say so myself (except for that one honey mead.....)

Am looking forward to a stout toast on board.  !!!!!!!!  Or perhaps a nice porter. !!!!!!!! Oh heck, it's a vacation...how about one of each.  !!!!!!!!

Anticipation Is A Good Thing

Ellie May and Jethro's godmother and i met when we were 12 years old, and have been friends ever since. 

Hard to top having a friend that has stuck with you through the years, through thick and thin, frizzy perms and fashion faux pas, cooking experiments, bad decisions, life's disasters and miracles, and yet is still willing to acknowledge you in public.

ALA's birthday is the day after mine, and we always celebrate together.  Some years we celebrate close to home, sometimes we take a little trip.  But we always have a good time.  This year's celebration is going to outshine them all, though.

You see, this is our Golden Birthday. 

ALA has decided that the celebration should be commensurate with the occasion.

And Boy, OH Boy, did she do it up right.

Many years ago, we worked out that she is much better at making the arraignments than i am--she does a lot of traveling and knows her way around a reservations desk, while i prefer to just show up someplace and hope they have a room.  I finally convinced her it is much safer if she just tells me where to meet and what we are doing.  I, for my part, show up on time, am happy to do anything, try to be entertaining, and hem her pants.

For our 34th birthday, we went to the Aspen Music Festival, and then did a little hiking at Maroon Bells. 

This was the trip where we figured out that our ideas of the perfect camping trip were diametrically opposed.  She is a bare bones primitive camper, and i tend to lean towards "roughing it is the Holiday Inn."  I will never forget the look on ALA's face at the outset of the trip, when she moved her single, solitary backpack over to the side of the trunk to make room for my pile of creature comforts.  She wanted to gather sticks to build a fire, then sit on a log while waiting for the water to boil to warm up the MRE's.  I wanted to lounge in the sunshine next to a babbling brook and cross-stitch while eating a sandwich from the cooler.

You see the problem.

I am fairly certain that she wanted to throttle me several times, but, as true friends do, she appears to have forgiven and forgotten.  It was truly a wonderful trip, even if ALA wouldn't let me pack in with my lawn chair and Match-Light.

On the side of that mountain, ALA and I decided that for our 40th birthday, we would hike Denali.

At that time, it looked very doable.  Of course, that was B.C.

As in Before Children. 

The next year, Ellie May arrived, and then, for our 40th, i turned up pregnant with Jethro, therefore, camping and hiking was WAAAYYYY out of the question.

Denali was put off until 45, which happened to be right after the fire, so it got put off again.

45 was fun though.  That year she came out this way, and then we headed to the boats in Shreveport.  As we were crossing the state line ALA pointed to a billboard advertising the senior buffet at one of the casinos and said excitedly, "Look!! When we come back here for our birthday in five years we will qualify for the Senior Discount!! 

It was at this moment that i realized the threshold in my life that i was standing on, and burst out crying. 

On my birthday, she teased about me being older than she, so the next morning, i greeted her with coffee and birthday pie and "Na na na na-na, Now you're o-old tooo-ooo, You're 45!!!"  To which she replied, "No, WE'RE 90!"

One day this past fall ALA calls and informs me that this is a momentous birthday, worthy of celebration in style, and asks if i think i can get away for a week (since kids and kids, the celebration is usually never more than an overnighter.)  Then she asked if i was up to flying, and i asked, how long?

"Three or four hours."

"Are we talking Denali?"

"Yup, this will be my birthday present to you."

My brain started out with "REALLY???!!!!???? DENALI???!!!!!!  A Dream Come True!!!!!"

And then that pesky common sense kicked in with, "HA!!!  Fat Chance!!!  No wheelchair ramps in Denali, sista!!  Gonna be a real problem totin' the oxygen tank along on THOSE trails!"

We had several conversations over the course of the next few days, in which ALA was trying to get a feel for what all i wanted to do on this trip...should we fly in here or there?  Do you want to do this or that?  What kind of excursion should we make?

And the whole time one part of me is going "!!!!!!!!"  and the other part is going "i am soooo not up to this...i will die on the trail and ALA will have to bring my body back down the mountain.  On the up side, i will probably expire fairly quickly, so she won't have to drag the body too far."

I was trying not to squelch the beautiful gift or compromise ALA's dreams and good times, but was sincerely concerned, when finally i said, "Look, i need clean towels about every third day, and if there is a buffet involved, that is even better."

To which she replied, "THANK GOODNESS!!!!  I am too old to sleep comfortably on the ground any more!!  How about a CRUISE??"

To which I replied, ""!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Am i not the luckiest girl in the world to have such a friend?  Not only is she taking me on this breath taking, once in a lifetime adventure, but she has given me a salve for my weary soul... 

...Something happy and exciting to look forward to!!

And so, you see, ALA and i are currently anticipating our 50th birthday and seven days at sea, glacier viewing, whale watching, wildlife spotting, balcony lounging, day trips, floor shows, and shuffleboard.

And Buffets.

I am speechless, and overcome with emotion.

Excuse me while i go dry my eyes and blow my nose.

Snoozy Dog

How can a dog as obnoxious and annoying as this one be so unbelievably cute?

Hard not to love her.

Fog Horn

Was cold and rainy all day, we were in town around 2:00 and the temp was 56*.

Sun finally came out around 4:00, and it got real warm real quick.

About 5:30 we sat on the porch and watched a series of fog banks come in from the south and then disappear into the woods to the north.

We watched several banks move through, then the sun started setting and the fog settled all over us.

Jethro couldn't resist a run in the wispy veils, as you will see in the next panel.

Oh, it is a good life to be a 10 year old boy and

FREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

Barefoot Boy

Magic Soup

Some time ago, i planned to post "Pig Tales" for Christmas.  Started the stories, got side tracked, and decided to post "Pig Tale's, A Love Story" for Valentine's Day.  Wrote some more.  Tweaked the stories a bit.  Added to them.  The post is still not done.  Pinnie, aka "The Pig," led a long full life, and there is much to document.  Some day i will finish.  But i keep thinking of just one more thing that silly dog did...  Perhaps it will have to be "The Easter Pig."

So today, the love offering is another recipe.

Ellie May swears this soup cures the common cold, the grunge, and a host of other physical ailments. 

I just think it is good soup. 

It is a recipe that makes the rounds, but bears writing down for posterity.

When in canning mode, i make a 5X batch of this stuff, and it will just about fill up a case of quart jars.

That way it is always handy if ya get a tickle in the back of your throat.

I have heard it called Ranch Soup, Taco Soup, and a couple of other things. 

But Ellie calls it Magic Soup.


Magic Soup

1 lb browned ground beef

1 can each:
Rotel (i use mild for the munchkins)
Diced tomatoes
Ranch Style Beans
Corn (drained)

1 pkg Ranch Dressing Mix (NOT Dip mix) (if you get it in bulk, use 3 heaping tablespoons)

Mix it all up, and simmer it for an hour.  Serve with sour cream, cheese, and tortilla chips.

Did I Mention...

...that Earl is back to normal?

Met me at the back door first thing this morning, and then chased me into the car.

Just Like Old Times

I am pleased to report that Earl is back to her old tricks.

This afternoon, during a brief visit from The Baas and some of The Krew, Pearl and Earl were discovered strolling around the Estate.

With some effort, they were both returned to their private quarters.

Two hours later, Earl was knocking at the back door, and entered the premises clucking joyfully.

Until she realized that crumbles and treats were not forthcoming, at which point, she began a perturbed chatter.

Nevertheless, everyone at Tails Up is delighted to find Earl back up to snuff.

Shake Shake Shake...Shake Shake Shake....Shake Your Butter, Shake Your Butter

Did you know that you can CAN butter?

Well, i didn't either, until Susan Dear Susan taught me how.

This stuff is AMAZING!!! (There's that word, again, Thell.  Guess i am just hopelessly out of date.)

Canned butter has the most rich, wonderful flavor, since it is clarified in the processing.  And it melts like a dream.  It does have a slightly grainy texture if you are, say, putting it on a cracker, but if it is melted into something warm like toast.....Oh My!

And the best part is, it has a 5 year shelf life.

Yes, that was SHELF life. 

As in not taking up space in the freezer.

When i find a good sale on butter, i buy all i can swing at the time, then jar it up.  It is a little time consuming, but oh so worth the effort.  One time i found a close out sale on some really good creamery butter and killed the grocery budget by buying 80 pounds and spending three days working it.  A bunch of my friends laughed at me at the time, but we used that butter for 2 years.  We were still eating butter i paid a buck and a quail a pound for, when they were having to fork over $3.69.  Guess i had the last laugh!  Bwaaa aaaaa aaaaa!

Canned butter is definitely in the top five favored things that i can.  Paul Adeen gets a case for Christmas each year, and if i can't swing the butter, he buys it himself for me to jar. 

I usually can it in pints and quarts, but always do several 1/4 and 1/8 pint jars as well, coz a jar of jelly, a jar of butter, and a loaf of fresh bread makes a fabulous giftie.

A couple of years ago, the City Cousin and a friend came down to spend spring break on the farm (here's some ultimate culture shock for ya...i had them butcher chickens in the freezing rain! Made some REAL memories, there!) (It wasn't out of meanness...they were earning a Girl Scout badge, and they got to take their chickens home to share with their families.)  All week long, i kept trying to cook for the girls, but they were never hungry.  Turns out all they wanted to eat was buttered toast.  Yes, i sent them home with butter, too.

Let's get to it.

First, ya gotta procure the butter.

This is what 24 lbs of butter looks like:

Then ya gotta unwrap it all.  I usually work in 12 - 15# batches in my largest stock pot.  You'll see why in a minute.  This is what a pot of gold looks like:

Turn the stove on medium to medium high to start melting it.  While that is happening, put your washed canning jars in the oven at 250 degrees.  They need at least 20 minutes in there, so if you put them in when you start the butter, they should be in for plenty of time.

Once the butter melts, it will start to get a head of foam as it starts to heat up to the boiling point.  Stir it frequently so it doesn't scorch.

As it starts boiling, it will begin rising in the pot, so keep it moving, and don't walk away from it.  Ya need to let it boil for at least 5 minutes, but no more than 10...if ya do ya get cheese. 
Voice of experience.

When it is just about done boiling, start a pan of water to heat up your lids.  Bring the water to a boil, throw the lids in, put a lid on the pot, turn off the burner, and let the pot sit on the burner.

You are now ready to start jarring it up.

Put a ladle full of butter in each of the jars, but be careful, it sometimes will bubble out of the jar, and it is HOT.  It WILL burn.

Tell me, do you put butter on a butter burn?

Just wondering. 

Every time you dip into the pot, stir the butter from the bottom, to keep all the solids mixed in.  Fill jars to within 3/4 inch of the top.

Wipe the rims very carefully. This is no time to skimp on paper towels.  Lids will not seal on a greasy rim.

Give it a lid and a ring.

Let the jars cool on the counter, and about every 15 minutes, give them each a good shakin'.  Gotta keep the solids from separating.

When the jars reach room temp, put them in the fridge, and shake them every 5 minutes until they solidify.  This part goes pretty fast, so don't forget them, or you will have separated butter.  Which is still usable, but not nearly so lovely.  Speaking of lovely....aren't they pretty?

Once they have solidified, let them sit in the fridge for a couple of hours, then take them out.  Next day, remove the rings, and put them on a shelf.  Like i said, they can relax there for a good five years.

At least that is what i have heard. 

We have never managed to test the theory. 

Butter just doesn't last that long around my house.

Oh, and one more thing.  Once you open a jar, you do not have to put it in the fridge, as long as you use it in a reasonable length of time.  It takes us about 2 weeks to go through a quart, unless i am doing a lot of cooking, and we never refrigerate it, we just put the lid back on.

Now get out there and find yourself some butter!!

You Are My Son, Luke

We have been playing musical beds lately, for a variety of reasons.  Mostly because my back has been talking trash and Jethro has the best mattress in the house, so i have been claiming it under the Mama Says Sanctions.  Gotta keep her happy, ya know.

Anyhoo, Jethro and Ellie May split the king night before last.  In the very early morning hours, he came and crawled in the twin with me. 

Which was doable once upon a time.  But he has gotten longer, and i have gotten wider, and....well.....

I said, "Son, do you feel okay?  What is wrong?"

To which he groggily replies, "I can't sleep with Darth Vadar."

Guess she takes after her daddy.

Wuddn't me.....y'all KNOW I don't snore. 

Our New Motto

We think it is calm here,

Or that the storm is the right size.

-William Stafford