Molly vs. Lolly

Anyone who has read my blog knows that we have the best neighbors, period.  Recently we've had a run of sheep getting loose.  One of the fence lines is weak and has been breaking when the ewes rub up against it to itch their wool.  Then they push through to get that green grass.  Four days in a row this happened and each day my neighbors helped get the sheep back into the pastures.  The last day I came home from work to find Eric out with wire trimmers and fencing fixing some holes.  Thanks to him and his wife Lola we got the sheep taken care of (but not before the girls munched my new starts in the garden - grrrrr!)

About a year ago Eric got a rescue dog Molly.  She is a golden labrador retriever and was rescued from a puppy mill.  It took her a bit to warm up to us, but she has always loved Jordan and now she will come to see me and Jeremy as well.  Although the cats don't like it when Molly comes over to our yard, Molly doesn't chase them so we don't mind when she comes lobbing over, tongue hanging out.

Memorial weekend we went on a little trip away from the farm.  (My parents come over to do chores.)  We got home Monday and promptly when down to visit all the animals.  We had just started giving oats to the sheep when Eric came over, with Molly.

Lolly following Speckles along the pole barn

Usually when Eric and Molly come down, the chickens are in their run.  But Monday night they were still out free-ranging.  Eric said, "Hi, are the birds getting into your garden?"  And then Molly took off!  She tore down the driveway, past me and after two chickens who were pecking loose oats around the pole barn.  The chickens freaked and ran behind the bard towards the thick snow berries around the creek and culvert.  I could see them flapping and trying to get away from Molly.  Everyone was yelling "Molly, drop it!"  "Molly, get back here!" "MOLLY!"  She came tromping out with Lolly, our Australorp, in her mouth.

Now Molly is a retriever and I don't know if she was ever trained to act as one, but she literally retrieved Lolly and brought her right to me (the closest human).  And it didn't even phase Molly that I was red faced and scream "Drop that chicken now!"  Molly did and Lolly took off down the creek bank squawking the whole way.

That's when Molly realized how much trouble she was in.  She headed back into the snow berries in hopes that we wouldn't be able to grab her.  But Jeremy was livid and went right in after her.  He grabbed her collar and brought her over to Eric who apologized
and drug a reluctant Molly home to spend the night in the dog house.

I went over to see if any other chickens were still in the snow berries and found Henrietta.  She was attempting to make herself as small and still as possible.  I reached down and picked her up - she was stiff, holding her wings and feet in tight.  I put her in the run with the other four, the smart ones that automatically ran into run to escape the dog.  Then we started looking for poor little Lolly.

There wasn't any blood anywhere.  Another good trait of retrievers is they have a very soft bite when getting the prey for the hunter.  But there were feathers.  I followed the trail to the last feather next to a large clump shurbery.  Jordan and I poked around calling for Lolly.  But it's hard to see an all black chicken under thick vegetation.  We looked around for about 10 minutes and then decided to give it a break and hope she would come out on her own.

An hour later we went down to check and Lolly came out.  She followed me back to the run and then let me do a once-over.  There were no puncher wounds but there were some bald spots on her shoulder and wing.  And when she tried to hop up into the coop she couldn't really flap up.  So I lifted her in the for night.  The next morning she decided to not come out.  She kept peeking out the door and then deciding to stay in.  On day two Jordan and I forced her out to eat and drink water, but she then went right back in (with help, still no flapping up).  On day three when we came down for morning chores Lolly was out of her own choice and up on the outside perch, meaning her flap came back.

Lolly feeling all better :-)

Of Weather and Trees

The first winter we lived here we learned a bit about weather in the country. First and foremost, folks in the country are on the bottom of list to get power back on. Not surprising - between fixing a line and restoring power to 100's of people in a neighborhood or fixing a line and restoring power to 10 people, the 100's always win out. That first winter we lost power three times due to wind knocking down tree limbs.

The largest storm happened right before dinner. We could here limbs falling on the house and being blown across the roof. Many limbs fell on the cover over the deck, which at that time was plastic. The plastic was pierced and broken. The power went out and stayed out until sometime in the middle of the night. Dinner consisted of crackers and cheese - not bad actually. Jordan was too young to be scared (now she freaks out when the power is out and has to sleep with us). We were at least prepared enough to have lots of candles and flashlights. Personally, I think it's kind of fun as long as it doesn't mess with my morning shower and coffee!

The storms really just Mother Nature's pruning - getting rid of the weak limbs so the strong may thrive. I just wish the results were less expensive. We ended up completely roofing in the deck. Small limbs have no effect now.

Today Mother Nature decided it was time for the annual spring pruning. Nasty, stiff, swirly winds, accompanied by rain and hail, whipped through. Jeremy and I were at work, but Eric was at his house working in the yard. He heard lots of cracking and breaking and went to check out what fell. It was two of the largest branches on the biggest cottonwood by the driveway. One branch crushed the fence along Junior's pasture and the other branch took out the fence by the orchard. Thankfully Eric was able to jimmy-rig Junior's fence together so that he couldn't get out and 'ram' every passerby. This was no easy job for Eric. About two months ago Eric was working on his rental house's shed and fell through the roof. He crushed his wrist and has been one-armed, one-handed since. Even with just the use of his left arm, he got the fence wired up and pulled the branches off the driveway.

When Jeremy got home he mended the fence enough to make it until Saturday and cleared the rest of the debris to the side of the driveway. Guess we'll be burning this weekend.

Welcome to the Country

The first week we were at our place, we were woken up around 1:30am to a shotgun blast. Gun shots don't raise the same kind of alarm as they do in town. But this was our first week, so we got up to investigate.


Over at Eric and Lola's place, Eric was headed over to the trailer shotgun in hand. Apparently a racoon got in the chicken coop, by scaling a tree and dropping in off a low hanging branch, and picked a fight with the rooster. Roosters are tough and mean, but racoons are bigger and stronger. This particular tangle left the rooster almost featherless and dazed. Eric was able to get a clear shot at the racoon before the it killed the rooster. The racoon was hit but not killed; it bolted up and over the fence and under the trailer in the driveway. Eric had to shimmy under the trailer and finish the job.


The rooster was worse for the wear. But he hung in, his feathers came back and he survived.


The racoon's tail got nailed up on the outside of the coop, along with 3 previous kills, as a warning to others. It must have work, because since then we, and Eric and Lola, haven't had problems with the racoons. Now onto the deer infestation!

Essence of Sheep

September 2009

Got to work this morning and realized I smelled like wet sheep. Not surprising ,the morning I had.

Mornings are crazy. Wake up - shower, dress, make-up, remind Jordan to brush her teeth, breakfast (most important meal of the day), backpack, keys, out the door within an hour - let the chickens out the coop, toss 'em some scratch, give the sheep oats - Jordan on the school bus and me off to work. There is no time for any "problems".

7:30am knock on the front door, which is really strange when you live in the country and generally means something is wrong. It was Lola. Eric and Lola are our neighbors across the driveway. Eric has lived here for at least 30 years. The first week we were in our place our waterline broke. At 9pm Eric drove past Jeremy on the side of the driveway, knee deep in mud. Eric rolled down his window and asked what happened, then drove on to his house. 15 minutes later he was back, in work clothes, with a shovel and said "Bet you'd like to have water in the morning." Good neighbors are priceless!

So Lola was at the door. She said that one of the sheep was out down by the road. She wanted to stay to help but was late for work. I said no problem, Jordan and I could handle it.

We ran down the driveway - a sheep in the road could be bad, for the sheep and the car that might hit it - in full work regalia, including black pumps. One of the yearlings was out; she had pushed under the fence (because the grass is always greener). She wanted back in with the herd and was making a lot of noise - baaaaing at the top of her lungs. The others were ignoring her and just grazing about.

I asked Jordan to stand near the road and be big - arms and legs out - while I approached from the other side, slowly and saying, "It's just me. I want to help you get back in. Don't panic." (I think I was saying it to me more than to the sheep.)

Patches, that's the sheep so named because of the brown-colored fur around her eyes, started pacing. She jerked toward Jordan, who some how got bigger - good girl! Patches jerked back towards me. I pounced and caught her. Now what?! Over the fence? Better than trying to carry the 60 lb sheep back up the driveway to the gate (note to self - a gate down by the road may be in order.)

I told Jordan to help me get Patches' legs over the fence so we wouldn't get tangled up. I heaved, Jordan pushed legs over and dropped her on the other side. Patches was a little jolted. I swear she glared at me like this was all my fault but turned and, very nonchalantly, started nibbling some grass like it was just another morning.

Jordan's coat and backpack, of course, where back up at the house. We started jogging up the driveway and heard the school bus drive past. Fantastic.

I dropped Jordan off at school and raced for I-5. Got to work 15 minutes late - not bad. I rushed to a meeting, sat down, took a deep breath and noticed the faint smell of wet sheep. Great!

The Great Escaping Cow

June 2006

Jeremy's grandpa called on a Saturday and asked "Do you want a calf?"

Grandpa Ed lives about 10 miles away in Ridgefield on 38 acres. He runs about 30 head of cattle. His calves are born in January. Apparently one of the calves was a "bummer", which means the mother wouldn't feed. In this situation, your choices are bottle feeding or veal. This lucky calve got the first option. She grew up in the small "back yard" of Grandpa Ed house, fed by the neighbor girl. When it came time to wean the calf and turn her out to the pasture, she wouldn't go - she just kept coming back to the yard. So Grandpa Ed called us and asked if we could take her.

A single cow needs about 5 acres of good pature with a strong, electric fence. We have 3, 1-acre pastures; only one of which was in good shape that summer. We have wire fences in relative phases of needing to be replaced. And we had, at the time, an electric fence, but the battery was sitting in 2 inches of water and I wasn't sure if the fence had been run in the past 15 years. Are we gonna let all that stop us, no way!

Sunday, Jeremy took the truck, picked up his dad for extra muscle, and headed to Grandpa Ed's. He brought back the cutest little doe-eyed black angus calf. Plus, being raised by a little girl, the calf behaived like a family dog. She was about 50 lbs when they unloaded her to the south pasture and we spent the next few hours feeding her oats out of the palm of our hands. We named her Gladys.

The problem with calves, like all baby farm animals, is that they grow. Quickly. By the next summer we had a 400 lb cow on a one-acre pasture. And then we learned why they say "the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence."

The first time she got out, I came home from the office with Jordan (3 years old) to find Jeremy in his suit and tie helping our neighbor unload Gladys from the truck back into the pasture. Apparently a wire fence with a mild electric charge doesn't pose much of an obstacle to a 400 lb cow intent on our neighbor's garden. I'm guessing, though I never had the guts to test this theory, that our electric fence had a charge that felt like static when you touch a metal door handle. This was also the day we met our neighbors - "Nice to meet you. Sorry our cow ate your peas."

Trying to get a full-grown cow to move, anywhere let alone onto a truck, is nearly impossible. Imagine pushing an SUV, in neutral, but that SUV has the ability to turn itself or hit the brakes. And it's 95 degrees outside.

The second time Gladys got out, we came home to her penned up in the wrong place - by the barn, not in the pasture. Our other neighbor Eric had to retrieve Gladys when she crushed the fence and headed back to "her" garden. I imagine she smooshed the fences much the same way I crush a stack of cardboard waiting to be recycled. It took Eric two hours to get Gladys into the truck.

By this time it was August. The grass that wasn't eatten to the dirt had stopped growing and she was consuming multiple bails of hay a week.

The third time she escaped - thankfully just to Eric's yard - we decided it was time for steak. We called for the "kill truck". After saying our goodbyes, I took Jordan and went shopping - there was no way I could be there when they shot her. Jeremy had to stay and it took a while for him to get over loosing our cow.

I miss the hand-feeding, that she came running to see you at the gate and her big brown eyes with long, long lashed. But the roasts, steak and hamburger are amazingly delicious!