Antelope Tag

The antelope love my puppy.

I don't know if they think she's a strange little antelope fawn or she smells good to them, but they LOVE her.

She's the same color they are and has a fluffy white rear end that must look a lot like theirs when they are alarmed....perhaps that's it.

Last week, I was watching a movie with the kids when I noticed this group of antelope circling our yard.  They weren't trying to get in, I could tell, but they were behaving very oddly, so I went outside to see what was going on.

They were trying to play with Tessie!

Almost a game of antelope tag or something...

Here she is, wary and unsure...

They'd get as close as they could to the barb wire fence (completely unafraid of me)...

...then run in a small circle...

...and then return to try to get Tessie to join them.  See the buck's head down?  He's not alarmed at all.  That's a friendly look for them.

She feels threatened, though, and is protective of me...curled lip, ready to bark if they get closer.

And they tried on the other side of the yard with the same tactic; tease, tight circle run, return to tease.
It was fascinating and charming!

When the kids and I got home from the school field trip this Friday, the Farmer told us that he'd found twin antelope fawns in the fields by our house, so new that they were still wet.  I'm guessing that the games are finished, now, for the rest of the summer!

May Day in Montana...Cohagen Style

The Farmer and the Boss are still planting, so I was reluctantly appointed to put out salt'n'minral.  I was a sure bet to mess the job up, but they were "in a real tight spot", the job needed done on one of the only nice days we were going to have, so they took their chances.  

And I took my camera.

Here's the trough, made out of an old tire turned inside out and nailed to a loggishly heavy chunk of wood.  Salt'n'minral troughs are generally situated close to a source of water, like a well or a creek...they're easy to locate to re-fill and the cows can have a good drink after their "snack". 

These are big tractor tires that have been used to hold chopped hay for feed.  And this is the babysitter cow, who drew the short straw somehow that morning and is stuck with all the calves until their mamas wander back that afternoon.  Babysitter cows always look weary and hassled, much like daycare workers.  

This baby sitter is in denial.  She's pretending to sun herself in the pasture while the young hooligans cavort by the rocks.  It's probably Day Two for her and she's plotting how to sneak off in the morning, leaving some other stooge to watch the rascals.

Watering in the creek....

Look at her eyelashes!  And beautiful star design in the hair on her face!  

And this one has dreamy eyes and a perfect little nose!

Oh!  The World's Most Beautiful Cow was hanging out by the salt'n'minral troughs, as if she knew I was coming!  We had a little chat and she posed for another glamour shot.  If I ever do a Cow-lendar, she'll be the cover girl.  

But you probably already suspected that.

I'm fascinated by the sworls of hair that the cows rub off on barb wire! It must feel so good to get all that winter hair off, and it's funny to see a furry gate.  

Who doesn't love a windmill?!

We find pieces of the lives of the people who lived here before us, being slowly digested by the prairie...

I always wonder why they chose, say, to leave their wagon on top of the highest hill in the pasture.  Did they want to make a monument?  Is that just where it finally broke for good?  Did they think they'd be back and want to be able to find it?  A hundred ponders in a little pile of iron and rotting wood....

I noticed this about the yucca yesterday:  you can tell pastures that have been grazed, because there are no seed pods on the spiky plants....cows love them like a kid loves cotton candy!  But I was driving to Cohagen through a pasture that's been in CRP and no cows...all the pods were intact.  

The first flowers on the prairie are almost alpine.  They grow on foliage that's more carpet-like than vertical, and their blossoms are minuscule.

I swapped out the Honda side-by-side for the Kawasaki Mule (think Flintstone car) so I could clean out my flower beds in the next couple days.  On my way up our road, I came across these girls who were spoiling for a race.  (It was a sure thing on their part because the Mule tops out at maybe 8 MPH, if you floor the accelerator and are going downhill.)  I think they'd been grazing and napping all day, and were bored. Right after I took this picture, they got organized and started a lazy run parallel to the road...

You can tell they're just trying to get me all fired up for a really good run.  (See how young most of them are? Last year's fawns with a couple does.)  The lead doe is about to kick it in the next gear, though....

I was just holding the camera up and hitting the shutter when we really got going.  They're still not "all out", but won with the easy run, crossing the road just in front of the Mule and circling to a stop on the other side.  It was hardly a challenge and they seemed happy, but not ecstatic like they are when it's a really fast, close race.

Today it's raining...YES!...and that's why I'm catching up on bloggery.  As soon as the weather straightens up, we'll start branding and you'll get even MORE cow pictures, along with dubious philosophical diatribes.

Dear High School Graduating Seniors,

Yes, you....the bright, promising baby-adults who are putting on those long coveted, overpriced cardboard caps and crepe paper gowns this spring.  You're going to get lots of towels, gift cards and $20 bills, along with Hallmark greetings that wish you success, fruition of your dreams, and congratulations for a job well done.  And it won't really mean a whole lot at the moment. (Except for the $20 bills.  Those mean a lot, any time.)  One of those cards will be from my family, and I haven't decided on the $20 or towels, but I DO know what my wish for you is.

I hope you suffer a little in college and/or those first few years out on your own.  

Not big hurts or devastating setbacks or anything like that, but just enough discomfort to give you good stories to tell later in life.  

I hope you eat a lot of ramen noodles.  Nothing makes you appreciate good food like running out of food points on your card in the middle of the semester and having to rely on the 10-for-$2 specials on ramen noodles.  

I hope you get a roommate or co-worker that drives you a little nuts with their weird breathing or obsession with Luke Bryan or wet towels on your bed.  It sort of makes you look at your family in a different light.  All of a sudden, that really annoying brother or mother that you couldn't wait to get away from seems downright charming.  

I hope you get a really crummy job for a while....it might be work study, it might be your first job since you didn't go to college, but I hope it's something like shoveling beer cans for a recycling center in the summer or re-shelving scientific periodicals in the school library.  Every hour will seem like three.  And you'll spend every miserable minute planning a life that's better...and it WILL be, because this is such a motivating time in your life.  Don't ever forget it.  

I hope you live in the old dorm or the old apartment that is drafty, has odd plumbing issues and where everyone who lives there knows (and fights for) the one good spot on the sproing-y couch.  You might spend one whole night on that couch with snow shovels and a (root) beer, waiting to kill the poisoned mice that stagger out of the laundry room.  You'll have AWESOME stories, and what's more, the day you get into a newer, nicer apartment will be the day you hug a refrigerator and gloat at the richness of the joint.  

I hope you're lonely once in a while.  Not the despairing "no one likes me and I want to die" lonely, but the "Gosh, it's just me and...well,...myself.  NOW what?!" kind of lonely.  It will give you time to think of a new way to prepare ramen noodles (with or without store brand ketchup) and to call home without having to act all cool and grown up.  Or take a shower to wash the stale beer smell off from your miserable (but temporary) job.  Or reset the mousetraps.  

And I hope in twenty years or so, you'll be telling whipper-snapper high school graduates that they need to suffer a little to have great stories like yours, that they'll learn more about accomplishment in adult life by having a little discomfort right at the get-go.  

Congratulations!  You rock!  

Sincerely, 

The Farmer's Wife

Ducks, Ducks, Geese!

I don't know if I've ever revealed this to you all, but I am absolutely smitten with wild ducks.  

It started when I was dating a game warden. He couldn't believe that I didn't know of any ducks except mallards, so one time when he took a trip to Arizona for a training, I decided to immerse myself in duck-dom to learn everything I possibly could by the time he returned.  

It worked!  

I didn't reveal my new found knowledge right away.  I wanted it to be a surprise.  One day, I saw his Ducks Unlimited magazine and said, "Nice widgeon!" or something like that.  He was shocked.  And thought it was a lucky guess.  He opened the magazine and would point to a picture....like you would with a six year old....and I'd name the duck.  Again...and again...even the scaups and the scoters, which are ocean ducks.

He laughed (because it was a good joke on him) and admitted that he was impressed.

But what he didn't know was that in the process of trying to impress him, I had really and truly fallen in love with the ducks.  

This morning I took my camera when I took the dogs for a tromp, and managed to sneak up on the ducks that were bobbing on our reservoir.  As I took the photos, I was surprised and delighted at the different species!  

But I'm rambling on....

Let me introduce you to the ducks I saw!

This is a very vain male pintail. He was constantly preening and cleaning while I was photographing.  I can see why he's so proud of himself, though, can't you? Pintails are elegant. 

Here's a very chilly male widgeon. And practical, too, because he wasn't messing around with raising his wings to clean...a fellow loses body heat!  Mr. Widgeon went wherever Mrs. Widgeon told him, so perhaps he just wasn't a morning duck...

And you must look in on the male green winged teal!  He was with his mate on the other side of the reservoir.  I don't know if the other ducks had teased them about being small or what, but they weren't associating with the others.  Teals are much smaller, more timid ducks, so that might have been the case.

See?!  I think he may have been showing off a little for the Mrs., but she wasn't paying much attention.  Probably trying to figure out where they'd nest that year and what to have for dinner...

Here the widgeons are, hanging out with Mrs. Pintail.  Do you see their pretty blueish silver bills?  And the classy stripe over the male's head?  He's every bit as respectable as Mr. Pintail, but not inclined to tend to ablutions while being photographed.  Smart bird!

Mr. and Mrs. Widgeon, going where she dictates...

And Mr. and Mrs. Teal, easing away from the bank of the pond.

I'm going to include a couple mallards, but from a distance.  They are not just common in appearance, but also rather rude ducks.  While these little ducks (above) were drifting around, peacefully and gently, the mallards were quarreling over on the north side of the reservoir.  There'd be a squawking and a splashing, and pretty soon they'd run someone off.  It was a tough neighborhood.
Here's a picture of some of the outcasts who had to relocate to the south end.  I love to watch ducks land!  Feet first, with big old splats on the water.  You can hear a mallard land for a hundred yards on a quiet day in the prairie.

She's all nonplussed, but you can see her wake...impressive!

I promised a goose, didn't I?
Well, we have a pair nesting on our straw stack, just south of the house!  I wanted to get a picture of them this morning, but didn't think the dogs would help my project.  Sure enough, Tessie ran too close to the stack and...

Anyone who's been around geese knows this is a bad look!

I saw the geese take off to teach her a lesson, but the whole mess was over the hill, so I couldn't see what was going on.  I could sure hear the geese cussing, though!  A minute later, I heard Tessie barking like crazy and back over the hill they came...with Tessie chasing the geese.  She's a bird dog and by golly if she didn't come up with two of the biggest birds she'd ever seen!  And wasn't I impressed?
So, I shot them.
(With my camera, of course!)

The mother goose (I think...who knows? they look exactly alike) settled back down on the stack, encouraging her mate to get the riff-raff out of the neighborhood.

All he did was fly in big circles, calling us names that I cannot repeat here because I'm a lady and it's a family blog.

There.
A blog post with no kids, no cows and no food!
I'll bet you didn't think I could do it, did you?

Little Things Mean a Lot...

I found this picture I took of Angus on the day of my crazy niece's wedding day a year ago.  The lines and light are so good that when I converted it to black and white, it looked timeless, as though it could have been taken in 1920, 1950...anytime.  

A few days ago I got a text out of the wild blue from my cousin Philip who lives in Oklahoma and whom I haven't seen for years. We've been in touch on Facebook, but it was still a surprise to get a little photo of a tricked out 4wheeler and a note that said, "Thinking of you today!".  

When my sweet old Molly-dog died, my friend and sorta-brother Ivan didn't know what to say...he knew it was the most awful time and that there was no comfort....but he sent a picture of a flower every day for a couple weeks to my phone.  The equivilant of a bouquet, really, and it was such a kind thing to do.  

Once when the kids were little, we'd "had a day" in Miles City and finally dragged ourselves to McDonalds with Grandma Banana to have some chicken nuggets before pounding home; we must've looked just run over...I think Maggie was 4 and Angus was 2.  Anyway, we were sitting in a table as far away from other people as we could, waiting for our nuggets, when one of the girls who worked the counter brought over 4 ice cream cones.  I politely told her that they must be for someone else, because we didn't order them, and she smiled and said, "Someone bought them for you.  Enjoy!"   

My friend Elise sends me pictures of tacky mens knitting patterns.  They never fail to crack me up! (We decided to do a calendar, just for the two of us, so we can laugh all year long.)

Every month, I get a Bon Appetit magazine that's a gift subscription from my pal Sara...it's like a big hug, especially since I know she's reading the same magazine at the same time.  

And I can't tell you how wonderful it is to go through Reynold's grocery store and be greeted with big smiles and smashing deals on outdated milk products!  It's like they've been waiting all week, just to see me...

I could go on and on.

Most of you know that I fight a mighty battle with depression, daily...it's chemically driven, and sometimes medicine works, sometimes it fails.  And that's frustrating, but it is what it is, you know?  

I've found that what keeps me clawing forward, though, are all these little, dear gestures.  I wake up and look for them, the tiny little things that to me are so huge.  

And I've started making sure I do more to let people know I'm thinking of THEM.  Who knows when that will be the one thing in their day that validates them, that encourages them in the storm?  

One last thing:

For the last year or so, I've been sort of following this funny page called: The World Needs More Love Letters.  It's basically just the idea of someone who thought to leave anonymous, encouraging notes on park benches, tucked in library books, sticking out of railway lockers, taped to windshields of cars in the Walmart parking lot, etc. (Because if you EVER needed love and encouragement, it's when you come out of Walmart...I'm telling you!)  The website gives ideas on how to do it, but the best part is when people contact them about the "love letters" they've found.  So many times it's on a day that they were ready to give up, that they faced a cancer diagnosis, that they were feeling completely alone in the world. It has inspired me to do more of that, for people I know AND completely anonymously.   

If you're interested, click on the highlighted words, above. 

Coming up for air...

Guess what?

It's 8 a.m. and the temperature is 41 degrees!!!

Kids and I will be wearing flip-flops and shorts today, because that's what Montana people do when the temperature hits 40+ in the spring.  We may even eat ice cream bars this afternoon, to be able to bear the heat better.  

We've had a week, folks.

Sunday, the kids and I raced to Billings to swim at the Reef with B.J.'s kids and celebrate two cussin birthdays: Bailey and Hesston are both April Fool's Day babies!  It was hot and happily loud, which was perfect because outside the rain was coming down in torrents. We got to see Grammy Karen, Cowboy PopPops, Auntie Cari, cussins, new friends, eat pizza and cake, then drive right home in that rain all the way which turned to snow.  

Rain and snow and cold winds kill calves, you know.

So, the next day when the kids went to school, us grownups spent the morning gathering up chilled down babies from the pasture and warming them with the pickup heaters and hot boxes in the shop.  We didn't save all of them, sadly, but we saved more than we lost.  

Repeat the next day.

Repeat the next day.

Thursday was the Academic Fair in Jordan, which is Garfield County's version of a science fair, except that it's not limited to science projects.  For instance, I judged a family history project, a medieval weapons project, a history-of-dance project, a varmint snaring project, a tooth staining project....it was fascinating and fun!  (It's only fun for the judges. It's not fun for the teachers, especially those who teach 5 grades in the country schools. Academic Fair has turned more than one country school teacher into a twitching, alcoholic shadow of a person for three days after the event. Even as I type this, some readers are having flashbacks...) Maggie did a project on meteorology and Angus's project was on pinhole photography this year.  Maggie got a blue ribbon while Angus merely got a green participation ribbon, simply because ALL the first graders got a green participation ribbon.  The newspaper took a picture of him with his project, though, and we're hoping it will appear in next week's edition.  

Yesterday, Maggie had the stomach flu, so everything else stopped in this house.  

Hoping, hoping no one else gets the bug...

This morning, I woke up to find (via Facebook) that Jamie Jo Baker was crowned Prom Queen last night! COHAGEN QUEEN!!!  I think I'll wear my tiara today in empathetic celebration...

Also, my sister-friend Sue and her family said a sad goodbye to their dog Gus yesterday.  When I was with them in Massachusetts in 2012, Gus was such a pal and slept on my bed a couple nights...I think he knew I was lonesome for Molly.  I loved that funny faced boy!  And I know how hard this was for the whole family. Wish we could wrinkle up the states between us so  I could hug them and bring them a casserole/cake to help fill up the empty.  

And we have one new kitten, here, named Trinket.

WHEW!

Now you're all caught up!

Here are some pictures from the week:

They're pals.

And it cracks me up that they have the same lips...

We're DYING for some baseball!

Our television is broken, so we can't watch it, and all the local college teams have been snowed out the last few weekends.

We don't feed them in an expedient manner, so they're forced to snitch as many loose cake pellets as their long tongues can ease out of the cake feeder.

I've been trying for years to get a picture of a bucking calf!

This little heifer was just full of the beans that morning and just HAD to bounce.

It always looks like a nest of calves.

Coming in to feed...

And that's the end of it.

He's "the man".

(I know. This is out of the blue for my readers, but I've been writing this particular post for a MONTH in my head and it has to spill out.  Forgive me, indulge me, unfollow me...whatever you must...but I really need to get it out of my brain so I can move on.)

This winter, I ended up in a situational road trip with someone I don't hang out with in "real life"; our circles just don't really cross and we seem to get along better that way, oddly enough.  We have a couple things in common besides our cool kids: sports, live on ranches, like our dogs and (I thought) love of music.

Here's where I learned a lot.

I am, it turns out, supremely and hopelessly out of step with the latest country music artists.
Particularly the male country music artists.
SPECIFICALLY the male country music artists that are "hot" and encourage us to "shake it" for them.

To me, they all sound the same.
They're all extolling the awesomeness of wearing cutoff jeans, drinking beer down by the creeeeek while dancing in the back of a truck, shaking it (I'm not sure what "it" is, exactly, but at age 42, I've decided it's better for everyone if nothing on me shakes...) and getting tans.  Bonus points if y'all have boots. Oh! and sometimes there's hay, but not always.  I think I heard one about falling in love in the back of a cop car, too.

Then there's the issue of hotness.
Apparently, Luke Bryan is hot.  And Jason Aldean is hot. And Eric Church is hot. (I don't remember the other names.)
Don't I watch the videos???
Um...
No.
No, I do not.  I sort of LISTEN to music, I don't watch it. The videos in my brain are always better than the ones produced in Nashville.
And even IF I happened to stumble upon them, I sincerely think I wouldn't think they were hot.
(This is also probably due to my advanced age-ed-ness. It seems I'm one of those ridiculous people that is attracted to personality, too.)

I tried to find common ground, musically.
Have you heard Aloe Blacc?
Nope.
Tim Montana and the Shrednecks?
WHO?
Caro Emerald?  Sara Bareilles?
Mumford and Sons?
We got close on Pat Green and Cross Canadian Ragweed.  I mean, at least there was name recognition.
That's big, right?

An attempt was made to school me on the hottiest of hots, Luke Bryan.
We had a solid hour of his songs, with explanations of the videos (which can be found on Youtube, by the way).  There was an interlude of slightly less hot male artists, so that I might be able to compare, then a return to his most royal hotness for replays and such.

I truly appreciate the zeal for artists and their work, and for the enthusiastic sharing. I've sent friends Zac Brown and Kid Rock songs that I thought they should hear, whether they wanted to or not.  I get passionate about things, too....just not Luke Bryan.

*sigh*

(PS:  I've been DYING to send this Aloe Blacc song to my Dad who will simultaneously be irritated and amused by it.  He'd like it better if he could see his grandson walking around the house singing, "I'm the man, I'm the man, I'm the man; yes, I am, yes, I am, yes, I am."  Angus ROCKS it.)

(Double click on the words Aloe Blacc song, above, to listen.)
(There's no video.  I have no idea if Aloe Blacc is hot.)
(Sorry!)



 

It's a boy!

Poor little guy, his right ear is frozen and he'll likely lose most of it with the tag, but...

he's alive! Not all calves born in this weather made it. 

And isn't Daisy lovely? Really. Even if you don't like cows, you have to admit she's gorgeous...

It's hard to think of him as ending up in burgers, but I'm just so glad he's healthy and strong.

Not 10 minutes before tagging Cactus Jack, we picked up a dead calf that the coyotes and eagles had been eating on.  The mama came running over when the Farmer threw what was left of the calf in the back of the Honda, looking for her baby...even though he'd been dead for a couple days.  My heart just breaks for these cows; she was an older cow and did everything right, the weather killing her baby. Little Cactus Jack came very close to having the same ending...I'm so grateful to be able to show you these happy baby pictures!

The Maternity Ward

This is one of the heifers who is going to have her first calf this year.  We keep them in the lots close to the barn so they can be whisked away to a cozy pen with straw inside when they get far enough along to "have the toes out".  The morning I took these pictures, I was on call; the men were feeding and looking for chilled down calves out in the pasture with the older cows, so I had to lurk near the barn and watch one of the heifers who "had the toes out".  Sometimes the new mamas flop the babies out and don't know what to do...she won't get the amniotic bag off the calf's head, or the calf will land with its head under its body and the cow won't get it pushed around.  OR...and this is my worst fear...she won't make any progress in calving and we have to put chains on the calf's feet and "pull" him to get him out.  That's hard on everyone.

This is a calf that's a day or two old with HIS heifer mama.  This is such a cozy, maternal scene, but it was horribly cold for brand new calves that morning. It's not just the wet snow, but the bitter winds we get here that are dangerous. Last night, one of the old cows had her baby on a creek bank and it froze to death...no matter how good a mama she was, it was just too cold for a wet, brand-new calf. 

I can see the shiny eye on this baby, but perhaps you can't.  He wasn't as miserable as he looks here...his mama had fed him and went to water in the pen, so his little tummy was full of warm milk and there was protection from the wind in that upper lot.  Still...just a couple days old.

This is a direct picture of the sun that morning.  The snow blowing pretty much obscured the light, so it was grey-on-grey.  We're so weary of grey...

The rest of the girls with their heads in the hay feeders; they're quite focused on breakfast...can't be bothered with paparazzi...

The road, with snow blowing across...

sometimes this is the most lonesome place on earth!

I hope to have brighter, blue-sky sorts of calf pictures soon.