True story...
Friday, June 22, 2012
These are the days...
I'm cleaning in the middle of the night, now; not wanting to fight with my little people over mopping and towels and such. It's much more peaceful to put everyone to bed, even the dogs, then swab everything down. We have friends coming tomorrow, from Missouri AND Colorado, and that's part of the reason for the midnight mopping....I know it will still look shabby in the morning, but also clean, and that's good enough! You see, we have friends with good hearts, who are happy with our hugs and steak, not concerned with our polish. ( At least I hope they are...)
So, a little bit ago I went into the "guest/kids" bathroom to evaluate, then clean....
It's grim.
There are pirates and mermaids, cowboys and Barbies.
Rust stains threaten to overtake the tub, no matter what I souse on it or how hard I scrub.
The towels are clean, but well worn....we haven't invested in new ones since our wedding, in 1998.
And I felt very, very tired.
But, as I have been mopping on the kitchen, I've been thinking....
(This happens occasionally; don't expect big things, okay?)
These are the days of pirates and mermaids.
Of toads, lost in the toy room, then found again, with crows of delight!
These are the times of LEGOS underfoot, of lollipops half-shlurped stuck to the carpet in the closet.
This is when the kittens wear dresses.
When the prize in the cereal box is all-consuming.
When Superman jammies are left in the hall because the outdoors is calling so loudly.
These times are crayons in pockets and little footprints through the kitchen, looking for snacks.
Popsicle faces and Chicka-chicka-boom-boom.
Tears over broken trucks and mean sisters, giggles about farts.
And the most awful "knock-knock" jokes known to man-kind.
In the blink of an eye, we'll be in the world of Nike and IPods, so I don't want to miss this!
Today was sort of hard, for all of us....at least those of us who spend the day in this little home and yard. We tried hard, but things didn't turn out the way we'd hoped.
And that's okay.
Because tomorrow, our friends will be here!
Hugs! BIG hugs! and catching up, and showing of life....CLEAN pirates and mermaids!
Hot dogs and marshmallows and "tell me about how you are, dear"s!
And more hugs!
I'm writing this so I don't forget that the little things are the big things.
The little things are the big things.
Now, where did I leave the darned mop bucket....!?!?
:)
So, a little bit ago I went into the "guest/kids" bathroom to evaluate, then clean....
It's grim.
There are pirates and mermaids, cowboys and Barbies.
Rust stains threaten to overtake the tub, no matter what I souse on it or how hard I scrub.
The towels are clean, but well worn....we haven't invested in new ones since our wedding, in 1998.
And I felt very, very tired.
But, as I have been mopping on the kitchen, I've been thinking....
(This happens occasionally; don't expect big things, okay?)
These are the days of pirates and mermaids.
Of toads, lost in the toy room, then found again, with crows of delight!
These are the times of LEGOS underfoot, of lollipops half-shlurped stuck to the carpet in the closet.
This is when the kittens wear dresses.
When the prize in the cereal box is all-consuming.
When Superman jammies are left in the hall because the outdoors is calling so loudly.
These times are crayons in pockets and little footprints through the kitchen, looking for snacks.
Popsicle faces and Chicka-chicka-boom-boom.
Tears over broken trucks and mean sisters, giggles about farts.
And the most awful "knock-knock" jokes known to man-kind.
In the blink of an eye, we'll be in the world of Nike and IPods, so I don't want to miss this!
Today was sort of hard, for all of us....at least those of us who spend the day in this little home and yard. We tried hard, but things didn't turn out the way we'd hoped.
And that's okay.
Because tomorrow, our friends will be here!
Hugs! BIG hugs! and catching up, and showing of life....CLEAN pirates and mermaids!
Hot dogs and marshmallows and "tell me about how you are, dear"s!
And more hugs!
I'm writing this so I don't forget that the little things are the big things.
The little things are the big things.
Now, where did I leave the darned mop bucket....!?!?
:)
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Scary stuff!
Eleanor Roosevelt once said, "Do one thing every day that scares you."
I love that.
Now,
you might be thinking, "She's a house/ranch wife...how many scary things could there BE in her world?"
Obviously, you've not looked into the terrifying depths of the back of my refrigerator.
I don't believe Eleanor was speaking of scary things, really; more along the order of things that cause us to stretch beyond our comfy day-to-day routines.
Sometimes it might mean making a hard phone call...one that you've been dreading, making an appointment that you really don't want to go to. Like the dentist, say...(I almost need a sedative. Truly.)
Perhaps it's delving into a filing project that is intimidating because of its magnitude.
It could be helping your husband move bulls. (Honestly, that really and truly IS scary.)
Have you ever written a letter that you're scared to death to mail, because you don't know how it will be received?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Last week, I presented a workshop to a bunch of business professionals at a conference and it scared me to pieces. The topic of the workshop was that of being a right brain dominant person in a left brain dominant job. In case you don't know what in the world that means and mightily question my claim of being in my right brain, let me just put up a Mercedes Benz graphic that I think illustrates the difference brilliantly. (Oh, yes...I swiped it for the workshop! I HAD to.)
I know you can't read the writing, but basically it says that right brain dominant people are creative, easily distracted, unorganized, big picture people who also tend to be quite passionate and visual. We ask "why?" questions. The left brain dominant people are organized, like lists, are big into details, focused, more verbal, and they hang their pictures straight. They ask "How?" questions.
Right brain-talks with their hands.
Left brain-ducks. :)
Right brain-doodles on workshop notes and make little foil sculptures from the candy wrappers on the table.
Left brain- annoyed with the sculptures because they make the table look messy and THEIR notes are in wonderful, hierarchical order. (We right brain people usually end up copying their notes because we missed the point, making the sculpture.)
Right brain-all fascinated with how the peas look, mixed with the carrots.
Left brain-no food touches unrelated foods. Gravy almost freaks them out, because it's food ON food. AND it runs all over the place. This will give left brain people a moment of panic, when the gravy gets a little out of control.
Right brain-it's about color and form...
Left brain- it's about straight lines and neatness.
Right brain people need to travel with left brain people because we never wear watches and are no good with directions. Left brain people sleep in their watches and snap! snap! get to the destination efficiently, with the original, verbal directions. (I know. It baffles me, too!)
You get the idea.
You also can perhaps see how those poor people in the workshop felt when I started talking.
(It WAS discussed, prior to me actually presenting, that instead of candy, we should be allowed to hand out little individual serving bottles of wine. Do you think they had a foreboding of how my workshop was going to run?)
Anyway...
The workshop scared me all over the place.
I had never used PowerPoint. Ever.
I really wanted to just use a flannel-graph board, but that's frowned on at professional conferences.
I was worried that I didn't have enough usable information.
I was worried that I had too much.
What if more than 3 people showed up?
What if I had a wardrobe malfunction...say, by falling off my 4 inch take-charge-of-this-situation-girlfriend shoes?
Is this even APPLICABLE?
Am I the only right brain dominant person in the room?
Did I bring enough chocolate, for heaven's sake?
And WHY did I say I would do this in the first place?
Terrifying stuff.
But guess what?
I lived! And no business officials were harmed in the production of the workshop!
There WERE more than 3 people, but everyone in the room was very kind and generous with tolerance for my babbling.
I had plenty of chocolate. Too much chocolate.
And I have no idea if the workshop was a waste of time for them or not, but it was a GOOD thing for ME.
I learned so much....not the least of which was the importance of doing something that scares me, every day, because it really IS important to keep stretching oneself.
I love that.
Now,
you might be thinking, "She's a house/ranch wife...how many scary things could there BE in her world?"
Obviously, you've not looked into the terrifying depths of the back of my refrigerator.
I don't believe Eleanor was speaking of scary things, really; more along the order of things that cause us to stretch beyond our comfy day-to-day routines.
Sometimes it might mean making a hard phone call...one that you've been dreading, making an appointment that you really don't want to go to. Like the dentist, say...(I almost need a sedative. Truly.)
Perhaps it's delving into a filing project that is intimidating because of its magnitude.
It could be helping your husband move bulls. (Honestly, that really and truly IS scary.)
Have you ever written a letter that you're scared to death to mail, because you don't know how it will be received?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Last week, I presented a workshop to a bunch of business professionals at a conference and it scared me to pieces. The topic of the workshop was that of being a right brain dominant person in a left brain dominant job. In case you don't know what in the world that means and mightily question my claim of being in my right brain, let me just put up a Mercedes Benz graphic that I think illustrates the difference brilliantly. (Oh, yes...I swiped it for the workshop! I HAD to.)
I know you can't read the writing, but basically it says that right brain dominant people are creative, easily distracted, unorganized, big picture people who also tend to be quite passionate and visual. We ask "why?" questions. The left brain dominant people are organized, like lists, are big into details, focused, more verbal, and they hang their pictures straight. They ask "How?" questions.
Right brain-talks with their hands.
Left brain-ducks. :)
Right brain-doodles on workshop notes and make little foil sculptures from the candy wrappers on the table.
Left brain- annoyed with the sculptures because they make the table look messy and THEIR notes are in wonderful, hierarchical order. (We right brain people usually end up copying their notes because we missed the point, making the sculpture.)
Right brain-all fascinated with how the peas look, mixed with the carrots.
Left brain-no food touches unrelated foods. Gravy almost freaks them out, because it's food ON food. AND it runs all over the place. This will give left brain people a moment of panic, when the gravy gets a little out of control.
Right brain-it's about color and form...
Left brain- it's about straight lines and neatness.
Right brain people need to travel with left brain people because we never wear watches and are no good with directions. Left brain people sleep in their watches and snap! snap! get to the destination efficiently, with the original, verbal directions. (I know. It baffles me, too!)
You get the idea.
You also can perhaps see how those poor people in the workshop felt when I started talking.
(It WAS discussed, prior to me actually presenting, that instead of candy, we should be allowed to hand out little individual serving bottles of wine. Do you think they had a foreboding of how my workshop was going to run?)
Anyway...
The workshop scared me all over the place.
I had never used PowerPoint. Ever.
I really wanted to just use a flannel-graph board, but that's frowned on at professional conferences.
I was worried that I didn't have enough usable information.
I was worried that I had too much.
What if more than 3 people showed up?
What if I had a wardrobe malfunction...say, by falling off my 4 inch take-charge-of-this-situation-girlfriend shoes?
Is this even APPLICABLE?
Am I the only right brain dominant person in the room?
Did I bring enough chocolate, for heaven's sake?
And WHY did I say I would do this in the first place?
Terrifying stuff.
But guess what?
I lived! And no business officials were harmed in the production of the workshop!
There WERE more than 3 people, but everyone in the room was very kind and generous with tolerance for my babbling.
I had plenty of chocolate. Too much chocolate.
And I have no idea if the workshop was a waste of time for them or not, but it was a GOOD thing for ME.
I learned so much....not the least of which was the importance of doing something that scares me, every day, because it really IS important to keep stretching oneself.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Sunday, June 17, 2012
This week, I learned....
- there's no such thing as having too many friends.
- there IS such a thing as having too many glasses of chardonnay.
- the anticipation and dread of public speaking is much worse than actually doing it.
- I'm definitely a better speaker in 4 inch heels. (I don't know why altitude should affect attitude, but it sure does.)
- Power Point stinks. End of THAT discussion.
- there's no Kinko's in Helena, MT.
- if one of my "friends" asks me to go running at a track and casually explains the sprint training we'll be doing, it's gonna hurt for three days. Seriously.
- golf is really just a giant geometry problem and I've always been much better at algebra.
- a Moon Pie can be a very satisfying breakfast!
- being a part of the Mosby family is really more fun than I can describe here.
- winning a crazy 4 wheeler race through the Missouri River breaks, down on the river, is ALSO more fun than I can describe here.
- the onion rings at the Lewistown Dash Inn are truly brilliant.
- the hamburgers, sadly, are NOT.
- the navigation feature on my Droid may save my right-brain-dominant-distance/number/time- impaired life someday.
- it's not possible to hug a Droid without screwing up a setting.
- my settings are seriously screwed up if I don't get hugs from real live loved ones, frequently and sincerely.
- my Aunt Betty and Uncle Marvin are the only other people in the world who make coffee as strong as I do.
- being part of the Pluhar family is ALSO pretty fun, except that they eat weird Czech food and there are about 300 more of them than there are Mosbys. True story.
- sprint training consists of a 1 mile warm-up run, two 400 yard sprints, separated by 100 yard walks, two 300 yard sprints, separated by 100 yard walks, two 200 yard sprints, separated by 100 yard walks, two 100 yard sprints, followed by 100 yard walks, ended with a half mile cool down run; does that sound like a "friend" to you? See?
- THE best place for an omelette and sheer visual interest in Helena is the No Sweat Cafe. I may have swooned....
And this is the short list of life lessons I experienced this week!
Saturday, June 09, 2012
Thoughts on gardening...
(The photos don't correspond with the thoughts....work with me, okay?)
Because that's how it happens...one morning, nothing; 15 minutes later, a bean plant.
Surely that resounds in the minute world of insects...
The roses Grandma gave me smell sweeter than any other.
I've sampled dozens and still, the yellow ones are the most glorious...how dear is that?
Thistles are wicked plants from hell,
but when my daughter named our latest bum calf "Thistle-bum", they all of a sudden took on some redeeming characteristics....like "tough despite hardships" and "bright frazzled-y blossoms".
For some reason, weeding with a glass of wine or a cup of coffee is MUCH less painful than weeding without. And weeding without a beverage is really not all that painful, anyway...it's more contemplative than anything.
One should always over-plant...because the mortality rate on tomatoes and petunias is really awfully high until June 15th. (Also, the local greenhouse starts cutting prices around June 1st and who in the world can pass up $.75 tomatoes?!)
The more one adores a plant or flower, the greater likelihood of a dog flopping down on it or the hail pounding it into the dirt. Nothing decimates marigolds, but the ONE contraband pinched specimen of Akebia quinata that you surreptitiously snuck from the French botanical gardens of Vancouver Public Lands will be flattened just as soon as it's rooted and planted, despite the heavy guarding of woven wire and cactus placed around it. I promise, it will.
There's no such thing as too many zinnias.
There IS such a thing as too many zucchini plants
Greenhouse Amnesia is a malady that many experience, but few admit to.
When gardeners go to a greenhouse, they forget many things.
1. The number of pots they actually have to fill.
2. The zone they really garden in.
3. The money they budgeted for the shopping trip.
4. The time it's going to take in August to maintain all these purchases/plantings, when it's 103 degrees at 10 a.m. and they are buried in zucchini.
How does your garden grow?
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Bucking Horse Sale Parade 2012
For my friends and family who are not on Facebook.
That's why I don't put many photos there; I like them on my blog, where the whole entire world can see what an exciting existence we lead, not just certain friends. If you've already seen these on my FB wall, scroll on through! (They're bigger here,though, so you can look through the crowd pictures for people you know...from Rhode Island and Alaska.)
We joined Elise Reilly and her kids for our yearly date in front of the Saddlery. Truly, we only get to see each other once a year! So we just go ahead and take all day; it's great to have parade buddies. This year, Ben and Allie Glasscock got to come with us, too. Richness!
Maggie and Addie can SEE the parade starting! And you know what THAT means...
C-A-N-D-Y
Sheriff Tony Harbaugh carrying Old Glory...
I don't know why I'm still astounded at the number of people who come to the Bucking Horse Sale, but it's incredible.
True confession #397: Someday, I want to be a little old lady wearing a cowboy hat and ringing bells in the BHS parade. I wonder if I can get my nieces to push me?
The cavalry band from Sheridan, Wyoming; they're a GREAT band!
These little guys made TWO loops of the parade; I'm sure they just fell down asleep that afternoon, exhausted from the stress.
If you can't find a horse to ride in the parade, there's always a unicycle!
Ben and Cameron Riley! I think this was Cameron's first parade and he was SO proud! Love his hat.
Really...if you're gonna wear something as subtle as a lime green shirt, you should probably dress it up with some zebra chaps.
Love the black horses! Don't they look sharp?!
There's Kamryn Grace! My little niece, in the MCC truck with her dad.
The coolest Caledonians in a 5 state area! Have I mentioned that the head piper is our friend Scott Glasscock? (And I really miss the puffy socks that were so in vogue a few years ago. These just look like your garden variety black boot socks. Except with the red tassel.)
The dancers put on a little show for us!
I love this picture! Isn't she lovely?
Check out this brand, Dad! Would that be a stick horse brand? I thought it was neat.
Old cars....
MORE old cars...
This is a nifty little whistle that all the kids got, so that when they were good and hyped up on all the candy, they could incessantly inhale and exhale, making as much noise as possible. Nice. Ours have disappeared, strangely enough....
I'd drive THIS old car!
When it got to the 120 tractor entries that weren't throwing candy, the kids sat down to take inventory. They ate candy as fast as they could, because they knew that after the parade, it would be rationed.
This was an intriguing old tractor! A McCormick with wood on the wheels.
Courtesy of Judd and Jay Twitchell!
It's an election year, so the candidates were out in FULL force. Elise and I decided we'd base our votes this fall not on the issues but on who threw the best parade candy. Not looking good for Tester...
Then, Elise and I took the kids to the park and spent THREE hours visiting, throwing dirt, eating picnic food, knitting AND purling (thank you very much!). It was so much fun!
That's why I don't put many photos there; I like them on my blog, where the whole entire world can see what an exciting existence we lead, not just certain friends. If you've already seen these on my FB wall, scroll on through! (They're bigger here,though, so you can look through the crowd pictures for people you know...from Rhode Island and Alaska.)
We joined Elise Reilly and her kids for our yearly date in front of the Saddlery. Truly, we only get to see each other once a year! So we just go ahead and take all day; it's great to have parade buddies. This year, Ben and Allie Glasscock got to come with us, too. Richness!
Maggie and Addie can SEE the parade starting! And you know what THAT means...
C-A-N-D-Y
Sheriff Tony Harbaugh carrying Old Glory...
I don't know why I'm still astounded at the number of people who come to the Bucking Horse Sale, but it's incredible.
True confession #397: Someday, I want to be a little old lady wearing a cowboy hat and ringing bells in the BHS parade. I wonder if I can get my nieces to push me?
The cavalry band from Sheridan, Wyoming; they're a GREAT band!
If you can't find a horse to ride in the parade, there's always a unicycle!
Ben and Cameron Riley! I think this was Cameron's first parade and he was SO proud! Love his hat.
Really...if you're gonna wear something as subtle as a lime green shirt, you should probably dress it up with some zebra chaps.
Love the black horses! Don't they look sharp?!
There's Kamryn Grace! My little niece, in the MCC truck with her dad.
The coolest Caledonians in a 5 state area! Have I mentioned that the head piper is our friend Scott Glasscock? (And I really miss the puffy socks that were so in vogue a few years ago. These just look like your garden variety black boot socks. Except with the red tassel.)
The dancers put on a little show for us!
I love this picture! Isn't she lovely?
Check out this brand, Dad! Would that be a stick horse brand? I thought it was neat.
Old cars....
MORE old cars...
This is a nifty little whistle that all the kids got, so that when they were good and hyped up on all the candy, they could incessantly inhale and exhale, making as much noise as possible. Nice. Ours have disappeared, strangely enough....
I'd drive THIS old car!
When it got to the 120 tractor entries that weren't throwing candy, the kids sat down to take inventory. They ate candy as fast as they could, because they knew that after the parade, it would be rationed.
This was an intriguing old tractor! A McCormick with wood on the wheels.
Courtesy of Judd and Jay Twitchell!
It's an election year, so the candidates were out in FULL force. Elise and I decided we'd base our votes this fall not on the issues but on who threw the best parade candy. Not looking good for Tester...
Then, Elise and I took the kids to the park and spent THREE hours visiting, throwing dirt, eating picnic food, knitting AND purling (thank you very much!). It was so much fun!
The Perfect Hotdog
At least that's what Jasper thinks he roasted! He said it should be photographed, really, for posterity and I grabbed my camera.
While they were waiting for the incredibly slow adults to finish eating so we could ALL roast marshmallows, the kids played "chameleon" on the propane tank. Seriously. I don't know how they come up with these things, but they're completely into being fat lizards on a rock.
Cap'n Jack Sparrow and Liza (you can't really see her, but she's the little black notion under the table), willing hotdogs to leap off the table...oh please, oh please....
This is after a long, hot morning at the rodeo, countless card games with the barnacles, slaving over the three bags of potato chips, and other stressful, demanding tasks; we look surprisingly good!
*It turns out hotdogs are really not all that photogenic. Even perfectly roasted ones.
Zee chef! He IS photogenic, but has that "secret agent" thing going on with the sunglasses.
Because I have foodie friends, the menu was as follows:
ANGUS Ballpark hotdogs (the only kind we buy now, for obvious reasons), Wheat Montana buns, watermelon, baked beans, potato salad, three different kinds of chips and, of course, marshmallows; quintessential picnic grub.
Maggie ate about half a watermelon all by herself. I'm not exaggerating!
Maggie got a FREE kitty at the rodeo, earlier that day...can you BELIEVE the luck?! (Yes, dripping with sarcasm...)
While they were waiting for the incredibly slow adults to finish eating so we could ALL roast marshmallows, the kids played "chameleon" on the propane tank. Seriously. I don't know how they come up with these things, but they're completely into being fat lizards on a rock.
Buttercup, hoping I brought something besides ketchup bottles...
Cap'n Jack Sparrow and Liza (you can't really see her, but she's the little black notion under the table), willing hotdogs to leap off the table...oh please, oh please....
Discussing world affairs and the subtle nuances of different lagers...
or something.
This is after a long, hot morning at the rodeo, countless card games with the barnacles, slaving over the three bags of potato chips, and other stressful, demanding tasks; we look surprisingly good!
It was a beautiful Mother's Day! And such a gift to have Grandma Celestia and Grampa Jasper here to share it with us.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Poppy
And then there were three...
bum calves!
My Dad called last week to see if I wanted a bum calf that he'd found that was pretty hungry. I was thrilled! Of course! Celestia and I jumped in the pickup with a dog kennel strapped down in the box and went to get my baby.
When we got there and saw the little thing, I had a feeling that it was going to end badly. Her little eyes were sunken back into her head and she didn't have a lot of try, but I loaded her up and brought her home anyway. Where there's life, there's hope, right? That's always sort of been my family's way of thinking and I guess I subscribe to that school of thought pretty strongly. Besides, she was a nice big boned calf and if she DID make it, she'd be a good one, I thought! And I named her Poppy, because that's such a fragile looking flower, but tough despite its tissue paper-like blossom.
We got her home and unloaded, then tried to feed her, but she really didn't take much...maybe 1 cup of milk replacer and Dad had given her a shot of Nursemate (colostrum paste) before we left his house. I let her come into the yard and she settled under the apple trees, exhausted from her big trip. We checked on her all evening and tried to feed her again a couple times, but she was getting weaker and weaker. At dark, I knew she was going to die and I just held the poor thing and sobbed, while Celestia held ME and tried to make me feel better. Things are always harder in the dark, aren't they?
The next morning, I went out to check and she was still alive, amazingly, but she was cold, cold...her body, her tongue, her legs....and I rubbed her hard to try to stimulate the blood flow and she bleated a little. I was able to get another cup or so of replacer into her, after a lot of tussle, then went inside to cook breakfast. I looked out to check and she was in her final minutes, such a hard thing to watch. I'd mourned her the night before, so it was an odd relief that she wasn't suffering anymore.
A couple days later, Dad called again; he'd found another little bum, a twin he thought, a little heifer with a lot of try. Did I want her? Yes, I did! So once again, I loaded up the kennel and went to fetch my calf. This time, I met Dad at a turnoff where he was going branding that morning and he pulled the tiniest bright eyed baby out of the horse trailer for me. I mean to tell you, she was no bigger than a minute! But bright eyed and strong. And I named her Poppy, because I needed that name to go on a calf with hope.
I got her home and Wayland helped me unload her. I went back into the house to make breakfast and get Maggie lined out for school and Wayland gave her her first bottle. He said she kept trying to wedge herself between the house and doghouse, but we weren't really all that concerned because there was plenty of room. When I went to check on her a little later, she was sleeping under the deck, warm and happy.
We've had her for a week now and she STILL crawls the fence from the calf pen, no matter how many times I put her back, and sleeps under the deck. And she's pushy, bossy, bullheaded, smart and funny. When I come out on the deck, she starts yelling at me, demanding her bottle. When I'm done feeding her, she trots along behind me to the other calves, just in case I have ANOTHER bottle for her. She's not impressed with them, they don't care a snizzle for her, but they're all healthy and good, so that's what matters. Poppy is getting strong! I can hardly haul her back to the pen, now. I think she'll be just fine. And with her little fighter personality, if she grows at all, I may keep her.
Here she is!
Just another little black bum calf to everyone else, but a delight to me...
She's yelling at me, because I'm taking pictures instead of feeding her. She yells at me a lot.
See how she's ignoring Buttercup? They have their own little gang going and she's not going to be invited to join. As my friend Traci says, "Three is the loneliest number." and apparently it applies to cows, too.
"Come out, Poppy! It's dinnertime!"
bum calves!
My Dad called last week to see if I wanted a bum calf that he'd found that was pretty hungry. I was thrilled! Of course! Celestia and I jumped in the pickup with a dog kennel strapped down in the box and went to get my baby.
When we got there and saw the little thing, I had a feeling that it was going to end badly. Her little eyes were sunken back into her head and she didn't have a lot of try, but I loaded her up and brought her home anyway. Where there's life, there's hope, right? That's always sort of been my family's way of thinking and I guess I subscribe to that school of thought pretty strongly. Besides, she was a nice big boned calf and if she DID make it, she'd be a good one, I thought! And I named her Poppy, because that's such a fragile looking flower, but tough despite its tissue paper-like blossom.
We got her home and unloaded, then tried to feed her, but she really didn't take much...maybe 1 cup of milk replacer and Dad had given her a shot of Nursemate (colostrum paste) before we left his house. I let her come into the yard and she settled under the apple trees, exhausted from her big trip. We checked on her all evening and tried to feed her again a couple times, but she was getting weaker and weaker. At dark, I knew she was going to die and I just held the poor thing and sobbed, while Celestia held ME and tried to make me feel better. Things are always harder in the dark, aren't they?
The next morning, I went out to check and she was still alive, amazingly, but she was cold, cold...her body, her tongue, her legs....and I rubbed her hard to try to stimulate the blood flow and she bleated a little. I was able to get another cup or so of replacer into her, after a lot of tussle, then went inside to cook breakfast. I looked out to check and she was in her final minutes, such a hard thing to watch. I'd mourned her the night before, so it was an odd relief that she wasn't suffering anymore.
A couple days later, Dad called again; he'd found another little bum, a twin he thought, a little heifer with a lot of try. Did I want her? Yes, I did! So once again, I loaded up the kennel and went to fetch my calf. This time, I met Dad at a turnoff where he was going branding that morning and he pulled the tiniest bright eyed baby out of the horse trailer for me. I mean to tell you, she was no bigger than a minute! But bright eyed and strong. And I named her Poppy, because I needed that name to go on a calf with hope.
I got her home and Wayland helped me unload her. I went back into the house to make breakfast and get Maggie lined out for school and Wayland gave her her first bottle. He said she kept trying to wedge herself between the house and doghouse, but we weren't really all that concerned because there was plenty of room. When I went to check on her a little later, she was sleeping under the deck, warm and happy.
We've had her for a week now and she STILL crawls the fence from the calf pen, no matter how many times I put her back, and sleeps under the deck. And she's pushy, bossy, bullheaded, smart and funny. When I come out on the deck, she starts yelling at me, demanding her bottle. When I'm done feeding her, she trots along behind me to the other calves, just in case I have ANOTHER bottle for her. She's not impressed with them, they don't care a snizzle for her, but they're all healthy and good, so that's what matters. Poppy is getting strong! I can hardly haul her back to the pen, now. I think she'll be just fine. And with her little fighter personality, if she grows at all, I may keep her.
Here she is!
Just another little black bum calf to everyone else, but a delight to me...
She's yelling at me, because I'm taking pictures instead of feeding her. She yells at me a lot.
See how she's ignoring Buttercup? They have their own little gang going and she's not going to be invited to join. As my friend Traci says, "Three is the loneliest number." and apparently it applies to cows, too.
"Come out, Poppy! It's dinnertime!"
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