The Cow

So as many of you know, I live on a farm.  I was born in the city, raised in the city, went to college in the country (Indiana), thought I'd never survive among all that CORN, grew to love it, moved home, hated the traffic, grew used to it again, grew to LOVE "city life" again, loved going to BIG cities, grew to HATE big cities, moved to Egypt.  (Holy run-on-sentence, Batman!)

Well.  I am still not 100% used to farm life.  You all can read more about some tales from the farm, HERE and HERE for example.  There are others, but not as funny.  Some are very, very serious.

But the other day my friend Shawn and her sister Sandy were here cleaning.  They were in the pantry doing some pretty heavy-duty stuff and I thought the dogs should probably go out since it had been a while.  So I asked Jacob to let the dogs out... well he got about as far as the kitchen window, and said, "Um, mom?"

I was like, now what?!?  We had a hornet problem this summer (to be blogged about in the near future) so I was thinking maybe it was another hornet.  I looked out the window, and there was our "smallest" cow, Hangar aka "Little" Brown Cow, standing on the WRONG side of the fence!  I flipped out.

Thank the good Lord Shawn has been around large animals most of her life.  Me?  Not so much.  So she and her sister Sandy calmly go outside and "guarded" the cows.  She had called her husband Ron, and I called Doug.  I rambled something quite loudly about Little Brown Cow being between the house and the walnut tree and what do I do and can you get here NOW please?? 

When I saw the van pull in a millisecond later, I was thinking, I didn't know our van had Nitrous in it...  Doug came running in the house to get something and I was like, "I do NOT want to know how fast you were driving, do I?" He just looked at me.

In the meantime, Ron had gotten here with their daughter Tiffani, who works with horses, and Ron was like, "I think Doug passed me..."

Oy.  They got the bugger in without incident, but my goodness. NEVER a dull moment.

Sigh.  Stayed tuned for more tales from the farm!

Pear Tree Pinata?

So I look out the window as a pretty blue SUV is driving at a snail’s pace past my house.  I’m thinking, what is this now?  Lots of people turn around in our driveway for whatever reason.  But they kept going, just super slow.

Then I see why.

The turkeys.

Turkeys have been the bane of my existence since Doug decided he wanted to raise them.  Don’t get me wrong, homegrown meat is amazing.  SO fresh, you know exactly what’s in it, no antibiotics or chemicals or growth hormones… I’m not like a must-eat-organic-foodie; hardly.  However, when you watch your food grow, you know what’s what.  Just sayin’.

Anyway.  So these darn turkeys are going across the road.  Doug has spent countless hours trying to prevent their escape by putting electric fence up on half of our yard.  Well, the turkeys have discovered the OTHER side of the house, and that the driveway on THAT side of the house goes across the street as well!

It’s a conspiracy, I’m telling you.

So I call Doug, and I’m like, do I need to get in the truck and go chase these stupid birds back home?  As I’m talking to him, I’m watching them run, yes, RUN (which if you’ve never seen a turkey run…oh my WORD. They waddle, but quickly.  One foot at a time, somehow side to side and forward at the same time.  It’s freaking hilarious) single file down the road.

Soon they are out of sight.  UN-BE-lievable. So Doug tells me to go into the garage and get some corn in a coffee can, start shaking it, and then throw it down towards the pear tree (away from the road) and put Molly on her chain.  Molly can’t get to the turkeys, but she can come reeeaalllly close.

Well, by the time Jacob and I get shoes on and get out there, the little buggers are waddling back down the opposite side of the driveway and back into the fenced in area.  I kid you not.  They have a spy or something.  So.  I’m like, what can I do to keep these stupid birds in the yard?

Pears.  They aren’t quite ripe yet, so they’re not falling freely. I grab what I can reach (being 5’4” that’s not much), then start shaking branches, ducking and covering, dodging falling pears.  I’m like, Newton’s got nothing on me.

So then I can’t get any more.  Jacob is trying to throw the pairs that fall up in the tree to get more to fall, but his aim isn’t so good, and I nearly get whopped in the head.   Thankfully I was watching as the pear made a beeline toward my head and was able to dodge it.

As I’m trying to figure out how to get more pears down, I spot Jacob’s little metal garden hoe.  HA!  Perfect.  So here I am, in my pj’s (of course it was first thing this morning) and hoodie swinging this hoe up into the tree like I’m beating the heck out of a piñata or something.  Good grief.  What next????

After about 30 minutes my arms were about to fall off, the turkeys (and chickens, and dogs) were all chasing each other trying to eat the same pear (even though there were a hundred on the ground by now)…Jacob’s in off-white pajamas, trips on a pear, barely misses all the bird poo….Ug.  Another day in the life of a farm wife. (Lord give me strength!!)

Cows?!?!?

We are getting cows! Oh my goodness. I am freaking out. One, because I am so excited. Two, because Jacob is so excited. Three, because I am a city-kid transplant who VOWED she would NEVER have FARM animals. Four, because they will be for meat, and I have NO IDEA how to not get attached. (See number 3; animals you own are pets, not food).

Very dear friends of ours have a son and daughter-in-law who are moving to Montana. They have to sell their animals because of the difference in elevation. They are giving us a great deal, and hopefully we will be able to help out some other family and friends with this blessing that is coming to us! Since Doug can butcher anything, he will do the butchering, which will result in more meat, probably better meat, and best of all, FREE. I guess butchering is really expensive, like a fee, PLUS $1.00 per pound for any meat. So MINUS the fee, if you get 400 pounds of meat, you shell out $400.00! Now granted, beef costs way more than $1.00 per pound, but when you can do it free....WHY NOT?

Also, a little good news on the lung front for me...I did the spirometry tests again last night, and my "breathing in" number (why, yes, that IS the technical term!) went from between 15 and 20 up to 40. GREAT news. The number for "normal" people is around 60, I believe. The "breathing out" number is up to 1.7 from 1.5; still low, but at least it's improving. The inhale is effected by the MG, and the exhale is effected by the asthma, so I'm not as weak as I was, but my lungs haven't completely recovered yet. "Normal" for the exhale is like 3.0-3.5. For someone with MG it should be between 2.3 and 2.5. So I'm getting there.

Oh, the joys of chronic illness. Florida is getting closer, and my neuro. said the change of environment could help my lungs. I was like, I'm SO with you!! Oh, a little more good news...He also thinks that I can go right from the high doses of prednisone right back to where I was because it's only 6 days of the higher dose. THANK YOU GOD!!! If I had to wean back down, while on vacation...That would NOT make me happy. The doc DID say to watch my MG symptoms very carefully, and if the MG starts to exacerbate, then I need to go back up to like 30.

SO....if you are a praying person, PLEASE pray that I can go right back to the lower dose with NO problems!!

Thank you so much for your support and encouragement. I am so grateful that God has seen fit to bless me with so many caring people in my life...some I've known for forever, and some I've never "met" other than in cyberspace. But you are all important, and I am so appreciative of the relationships I have forged on this computer. Have a wonderful week!!

Blatherings

Well, we had our first official night of bad dreams last night. Jacob had a "dish" in his bed. That would be fish for you who don't speak 3-year old. I was actually downstairs at oh, 2:30 because my sugar was a little low, so I had a bowl of cereal. Jacob was screaming at the top of the stairs. This would be the third time. First time I got up, tucked him in, he didn't say much. Second time, Daddy got up, and Jacob told him the problem. Daddy tucked him in, and scooped the fish out of his bed.

So here he is screaming at the top of his lungs from the top of the steps. I told him to come down for a minute, so he did.

Me: What's the matter, baby?

Jacob: There's a dish in my bed.

Me: What kind of fish?

Jacob: I don't know, but it's not a good one!

Me: What do you mean it's not a good one?

Jacob: It's a shark I think! {continued wailing}

Me: I think you're just having a bad dream, sweetie. There's not really a shark in your bed.

Jacob: Yes, there is Mommy!!

Me: Okay, let's go back to bed.

We go back upstairs, and Jacob looks at me with those HUGE blue eyes, still all big and scared and glistening with freshly shed tears, and says, {sniff} "By Daddy?" I was like, done. So he climbed in bed between me and Daddy, and snuggled close and went to sleep. Doug didn't get a lot of sleep because Jacob tends to sleep sideways, and Doug always gets the feet end!

Even this morning, when we woke up, and when I told Jacob he would sleep in his bed tonight, he said, "But there's a shark in there!" So we went over to his bed with a flashlight, checked every nook and cranny, and found no shark. Hopefully that will work....Must. Have. Sleep.

And, as some of you have read on facebook, we've been losing chickens! I think 3 or 4 have died now. They've all been during the day. The first one we came home and it was over by the bunny cage missing a head. Nice. Then we found a chicken pecking at a dead one the next day. Doug shot 3 chickens that he thought were doing it. The next day, IN the pen, there was another dead one, and the next day one outside on the concrete. The chickens are all skittish now (Gee, ya think? They're either being shot at or dropping like flies!)

I don't think it's like possums or racoons or coyotes, because I would think they would eat the whole thing. Maybe weasels? I don't know. They don't come out of their pen much now...they kind of all huddle together. I don't think we have a cannabilistic chicken either, because they don't ostracize anyone, or run from certain chickens. Ug. The joy of livestock.

The Newest Members of our Family

Here they are!!!!

Stash and Chia. Aren't they GORGEOUS???

Jacob is already in love...me too! They are so cute and cuddly...you can just pick them up and snuggle with them! Doug built the rabbit condo...so they have indoor/outdoor accomodations, and they even have a shingled roof! Doug doesn't ever do things half way, I'll tell ya that much!

I have dial-up, so this is taking forever...not that you know that! I'm a little concerned that we're not sure if they are boys or girls...could be one of each....I suppose we'll find out sooner or later!

Another Turkey Tale (NOT gross)

So all of the sudden yesterday morning Moose starts barking his fool head off. Which isn't terribly uncommon, I suppose, but this bark had an intensity to it. I look out the window and ses what I assume to be a teenage boy (baggie jeans, t-shirt, straight, thin, chin length hair..who can tell?) "shooing" my turkeys out of the road. I peeked through the window as I still had my p.j.'s on, and didn't really feel like dealing with this.

The turkeys were less than cooperative, and the "helper" wasn't going anywhere, so I begrudgingly got dressed and went outside. By this time, the turkeys were back on our side of the road, and the young LADY told me they were laying in the middle of the road, and she didn't want to hit them. I was thanking her, being polite yet kind of backing slowly towards going back in my house. And then.....

Out of the corner of my eye, I see this gray furball wriggling out of about 4 inches of open window. Since I never got the Good Samaritan's name, I just pointed and said, "your dog." She didn't seem to hear, or comprehend, anyway, so I increased the urgency in my tone just a bit... "um, your DOG!" In a SPLIT SECOND, said furball had flung itself to the ground and had crossed the 50 yards or so between it and the turkey at about Mach 9. (I didn't realize furry grey mops could fly).

The next image will stay with me forever....here is this little dog, (imagine a grey extra large shitzu) teeth firmly embedded into the backside of one turkey. The turkey is much larger than the dog, but obviously not nearly as tenacious. The turkey is squawking and running, flapping its clipped wings, pulling this grey bundle of ferocity all across our yard. The chickens are scattering and clucking and bawking, and I'm just laughing. The poor girl felt horrible...she finally contained the little grey beast, and he came away with about half a dozen huge white feathers hanging out of his mouth like a giant moustache. I have never seen anything so hilarious. My yard looked like a feather pillow exploded.

Meanwhile, another, much bigger dog joined the fray. As it ran by, the girl dove for the dragging leash, and missed. Literally dove. I give her LOTS of credit for effort! This one didn't attack anything, he just thought it was great fun to chase all the birdies running for their lives. I have no idea how this one escaped the car, because I didn't see any other windows open. I clapped and called the bigger dog over, and he came right to me...beautiful dog. Golden Retriever/German Sheperd mix. The young lady was still apologizing profusely (with a rather stunned and horrified look on her face, I might add) and I was assuring her it was no big deal...I certainly didn't want to deter her from "helping" future road-bound creatures!

I called Doug and told him we had issues. He's like, now what? I relayed the incident, and told him we need to cage the turkeys or just eat them now. This has been a lot of work for a couple of meals!

At least having me in your life, you KNOW there's NEVER a dull moment!

Nine Words I Never Dreamed I'd Utter

Me: {walking calmly into the living room whilst my hubby was trying to relax for a moment}

"I just shot a woodchuck through the mudroom screen!"

Doug: Coming fully alert as soon as he saw the loaded rifle in my hand....." YOU WHAT???"

Actually I think the FIRST thing I said was, "How do you get the bullets out of this thing??" I couldn't get the cartridge out. Poor Doug was like... huh? Last thing he knew I was giving Jacob a bath, insisting he rest for a few minutes, and there I am with a crazed look in my eye, adrenaline running through my veins, asking him how to unload the usually-UNloaded gun!

So here's the story:

I was giving Jacob a bath. He likes to play for a while, so I was just gazing out the window. I happened to notice a woodchuck coming out of its hole by the barn. I was temporarily devoid of my senses as I thought, I wonder if I could shoot that thing? You see, they dig up my yard {which is a health hazard for me because I'm already off balance!}, they eat my flowers {don't we ALL want the world to be a more beautiful palce?} and they destroy my fruit trees {not only taking food from out of the mouth of my child but also undermining our efforts to save the planet!}. Therefore, Doug usually ends up with a tally sheet of woodchuck kills on the fridge every year.

So, I'm looking at the woodchuck, conjuring up the devastation it causes, and something quite primal rises to the surface (probably the steroids...OH MY GOSH!!!! ROID RAGE!) I go to the closet, grab the gun, grab the ammo (from a separate area of course), rip the slide back to put a round in the chamber, and sneak into the mudroom.

Now I know from past experience that if you open the front door the little buggers hear it and scamper back into their hole. SO...I did just what Doug would have...HAS done....in the past: I put the end of the barrel right up to the screen, lined the little furbeast up in my crosshairs, and squeezed.

Nothing. Oops. Safety still on.

Take the safety off, barrel to screen, lined the little furbeast up in my crosshairs, and "Phht." (Well, it IS only a .22)!! It disappeared, but I didn't know if I got it or not, because it was in long grass, and still right by it's hole.

So back to Doug on the couch.
Me: Go see if I got it!
Doug: You go see.
Me: Eeewwww, are you kidding?
Doug: {rolling eyes a bit} Fine.

So I finish getting Jacob's bath, get him out, and glance out the window again. I see Doug walking up the steps with his gloves on, so I knew right away that I got it.

I knew then, without a shadow of a doubt. I had become what I once had feared....
I was a redneck.

And somehow, oddly proud of it.

{Hey, at least I didn't holler "yeeeeee-haw! when I shot!}

So now The Mighty Hunter must share his tally space on the frig...Doug 1, Me 1, and Moose, 2. Well he IS a hunting dog, and he IS outside way more than either of us!

Sounds from the Farm (and some thanks)

To even believe that I really live on a farm is taking a step of faith for those of you who knew me “before MG.” Some things are so priceless, though, I had to share them. The city slickers will have to just use their imaginations… : )

Last night Doug went out to feed the chickens and change their water, collect eggs, etc. I peek out the window, and see Doug, carrying his wares, Moose tagging along, and 18 chickens madly running to keep up with my husband’s long stride. If you’ve never seen a chicken run, it’s hilarious. I mean belly-laugh-oh-my-gosh-I’m-going-to-pee-my-pants hilarious. As least for us former city slickers!

This morning, at the crack of dawn, I wake up. The dogs have to go outside and go potty, so off we go. I remember people always saying they move out to the country for the peace and quiet. Peace, yes. Definitely. Quiet?? Not so much. The first thing I hear is a cock-a-doodle-quaaack quack quack quack quack. I just had to chuckle. Then, I’m taken aback by the frogs and crickets…SO loud! The birds are swooping and chirping and singing, I hear sheep baa-ing (okay, now THAT’S a word). Ya know, what really surprised me about sheep is how LOUD they are! They almost sound like cows!

Then I hear this crazy, warbling that I believed to be a bird of some sort. Maybe a “I’m not a morning person” bird, or maybe just a bird with something rather large stuck in its throat. Anyway. All of this was in about 3 minutes while I stood outside waiting for the dogs. (Didn’t want to go up the steps twice with how I’m feeling!) But again, a little blessing in the mess…I wouldn’t have stood out there to notice all the cool and crazy things that go on at daybreak on a farm. And I’m so glad I didn’t miss it! (Everyone who TRULY lives on or works a farm is laughing at me...you slept past daybreak???? We're DONE with chores by then!)

So I’m off to Ann Arbor today. Doug and I are now thinking that Dr. Teener may change my medication. I’m on CellCept, which has been a miracle…so I’m a little wary, so please pray for wisdom. I think he would put me on Imuran, which is to MG what Prozac is to depression. An oldie but a goodie, I guess.

Thank you Shawn, for taking Jacob yesterday, and making sure we were okay before you left to continue on with your busy day. Thank you Leigh and Barb, for coming to pray with me. I felt a calm come over me when you’re were praying that I know can ONLY come from the Lord. It completely changed my mood and attitude. Thank you for caring enough to come over and pray. It meant a lot. Thank you to all my other dear, dear friends, who even though you have your own struggles, you continue to pray me through mine. I love you all.

Dead Roosters and Other Happenings

I TOLD him it would happen.

As soon as we knew that Henrietta was actually Henry, I said he had to go.

We got chickens this year around Easter. I love them. I love the eggs. We SPECIFICALLY picked out all girls. Or so we thought!

Growing up in the city, animals were pets. Period. So I'm learning about this country life, and the fact that you can actually HAVE an animal, NOT have it be a pet, and EAT it if you want. Whoa. We have thus started small, with chickens. They are so funny to watch...they run around the yard and chase birds.

I only named 2 of them, so I wouldn't get attached. We had 20 all together, but one died about 2 days after we got it. Yes, I bawled like a baby. I made Doug bury it.

Anywho...I digress. Henrietta, one beautiful bird that I named, started crowing one day. Well, crap. That meant Henrietta was really Henry, and we had to decide what to do. I wanted to find a home for Henry right away, although if you've never seen a rooster crow up close and personal it's quite entertaining. It appears as if, at the end of the cock-a-doodle-doo, that Henry's eyeballs were about to pop out from the strain. I didn't realize roosters could have expressive faces. HYSTERICAL. I laughed so hard I almost peed.

Then, when Doug's back was at it's worst, I was going out in the morning to let the chickens out. Day One: uneventful. Day Two: the attack. I opened the chicken door on the near side first. Mistake. By the time I opened the far door, and walked back to the gate, Henry attacked. I had shorts on. He charged and pecked my leg. I turned and punted. Even though his wings were clipped, Henry flew.

I told Doug, if he ONCE goes after Jacob, I will kill him myself.

Well, Saturday It Happened. Doug had the gate open, and the chickens were milling about, and I felt very proud of my fowl ownership and newly acquired egg-collecting skills. Then, I saw that Henry was out. I placed myslef in between Jacob and Henry, ready to go on the offense. Somehow, Henry skirted me while Jacob took off running, and Henry flew right into him, pecked his nose, and knocked him down.

Now, I am NOT a proponent of cruelty to animals. It was purely the Mama Bear in me. I kicked that rooster harder than I thought I could. He was pretty tough though...he went down and immediately got up for more.

So Doug came out and I said, "Get your gun."

He didn't listen, so I said, "I'm serious."

He said, "Um, why?"

I said, "Because I'm going to shoot Henry."

Something about my choice or words, the half crazed glare in my eyes, or maybe the gravel in my voice and the screaming child in my arms had something to do with it. But the man said nothing, turned back to the house, and got the gun. I wanted to do it, but apparently something about my lunatic state prevented my husband from giving me a loaded firearm. So, he did the deed.

We started plucking, but he didn't even have enough meat on him to bother. He was all beak and feathers. I asked Doug if he wanted another feather pillow, but he passed. So we buried Henry too.

The other major event Saturday was that I actually got my trach in all by myself. I couldn't beleive it. Last year at this time I wouldn't let anyone but the doctor TOUCH it, and swore I'd pass out if I ever had to do it. It's amazing what you CAN do if you have to. This was a MAJOR event for me, but reading this back, it really pales in comparison to the rooster. {Sigh.}

Have a good one!