tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44447100066255390322024-02-21T02:49:05.387-05:00One Meat One VegCan a vegetarian and a carnivore find foodie happiness together? Yes! One Meat One Veg chronicles Alison (the carnivore) and Jim's (the vegetarian) adventures in eating. Tune in for updates from our farm and for reviews of those rare restaurants that can thrill one meat and one veg.Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.comBlogger117125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-33276321271415853692013-02-28T11:38:00.000-05:002013-02-28T11:38:39.867-05:00Buff videosOK, let's see what kind of traffic gets driven to the blog with buff videos on offer. So far, snake poop has far outstripped all other posts. Snake posts in general seem quite popular so take note, food bloggers, if you are looking to increase the number of hits on your site. Not much to say other than that I've been collecting cute video clips of the calves doing their thing. So, without further ado, here are a few little bursts of buff fun.<br />
<br />
Mabel was feeling feisty:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzW4sw1eMIMmJX2-Gg9ZKwHlh4oq5oMXNtXuFAXY9oqDm4sZfoccQle6S9zkdgTQxmfTRhln6rLQcy3_-1e2w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
Chuck demonstrated why practice pays off in the headbutting department:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyBe9UpMG0ZCoFM_esgrbXBKZDjAWEDxXZh5ZSnpgzmKwWHwcyLTAcny41hSfC5oWef9xBi95b-B_hIF1WBPQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<span id="goog_422807281"></span><span id="goog_422807282"></span><br />
Playing is thirsty work. Time for some udder bumping:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxVpdzy_RaNy2oGqOot0uO-ntsjZmrxEVyX2D-44aibcw3Fn-v501dsrPZ-UA49Dadjj3mg54Pix6lJNO5C-Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
Chuck and his milk mustache:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dydNxnwvVjX75kl7s9yFAuVk27j_gJnkrWVubxskjIid8Aqhk0av6uZ7t6RgfEy27aLU3WxC91fZgjdnHjfSQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<span id="goog_1502089539"></span><span id="goog_1502089540"></span><br />
Mabel says, "hi."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxygSSqUcexClTz4qDg8fIXBTW7bzWtqpcjANLUHO11qRnCyPkaNvntWc-MjnccAyMufbB2v0RUkBmClKJW' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
Sweet (Mabel) and salty (me):<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz1qx7Av54rM01QUaqiptS2Rvn1nErmYkXr4MP2ufuR4M44dAuTS9IG07tdhX4y40n96hHVAtLJYHJZWmjYEA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
OK, that's enough cute critterage for one day. Back to work.Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-82549791920842248232013-02-12T15:58:00.002-05:002013-02-12T15:58:37.252-05:00The New KetchupAlthough I liked putting ketchup on food as a kid, I didn't take it to extremes. While I could understand how drowning otherwise objectionable foods in the sweet, red, not-then-squeezable sauce sometimes made them palatable. Or at least not excruciating. But for me ketchup was my first foray into flavor enhancers. And mixing food temperatures. Not only did ketchup safely perk up an otherwise boring hot dog without getting into the scary world of mustard and relish, the contrast of the cool catsup squiggle against the hot skin of the dawg pleased my fussy tongue. But hot dogs with ketchup were a gateway. Liver and fishsticks soon followed. Fortunately, I never got into the really freakish stuff like putting it on eggs. Just the standard fried potato products which now, as an adult, are really the only use I have for ketchup.<br />
<br />
Over the holidays, I realized that I now have adult equivalents of ketchup: maple syrup and bourbon. Despite long ago leaving behind my finicky eating habits, there are still a few foods out there that I really don't enjoy. A few vegetables. Having had the occasional revelatory experience at a friend's home (what, brussels sprouts can taste good with a nice chestnut cream sauce?) or a restaurant (cauliflower can be comforting in a kofta??), I knew that it was possible to enjoy what I had despised if only the preparation was right. I set out a challenge that would let me conquer my prejudices and allow me to embrace some really spectacularly useful vegetables: all vegetable side dishes for our holiday meals would be veggies I normally hate.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHHSRSXxf8tEPmRaTdP9-6DdwDdKheWjcg5y42Ya4UvCRN2-QdNnkS93E_HPPRpC9xY_ZU2dlVmynKbJvabltdcEqvd96Jgqzrlyc89sZipug-jO0JI9Su5U1HQzHdjpql4WO_IyW9JFxZ/s1600/DSC_0010_1218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHHSRSXxf8tEPmRaTdP9-6DdwDdKheWjcg5y42Ya4UvCRN2-QdNnkS93E_HPPRpC9xY_ZU2dlVmynKbJvabltdcEqvd96Jgqzrlyc89sZipug-jO0JI9Su5U1HQzHdjpql4WO_IyW9JFxZ/s320/DSC_0010_1218.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
First up: brussels sprouts. Partly because they look so festive in the stores at the holidays, displayed on the stalk and partly because I know so few people who like them, I really wanted to tackle these tiny brassicas for Thanksgiving. My favorite food-porn magazine, <u>Bon Appetit</u>, came to the rescue with a recipe for <a href="http://www.bonappetit.com/recipes/2012/10/brussels-sprouts-with-maple-syrup">brussels sprouts with maple syrup</a>. Outstanding. Not mushy at all and not pungent. Firm, roasty, and with just enough maple to bring out the quite nice flavor of the sprouts without making them overly sweet. Most surprisingly, they reheated really well. Good thing since we had a lot of leftovers. Big score here. I will happily make these again.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI5A4z7wSCJ14cdExa_rQwKdPPZmSlAUw7lD4IHI4ptOL-OEwb1TFXHQnwZ44EH05uqVKFrHJ_NXZgTGJqcZgmdHQyRQLuob8vnC-N_5yVtuz17_2fHY0fBRHDnQq8dub6qxa-0JlIzmfd/s1600/DSC_0048_1283.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI5A4z7wSCJ14cdExa_rQwKdPPZmSlAUw7lD4IHI4ptOL-OEwb1TFXHQnwZ44EH05uqVKFrHJ_NXZgTGJqcZgmdHQyRQLuob8vnC-N_5yVtuz17_2fHY0fBRHDnQq8dub6qxa-0JlIzmfd/s320/DSC_0048_1283.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Next up: sweet potatoes. One of the healthiest veggies around and a personal favorite of the veg, I really felt obliged to find more ways to work this into our diet when I discovered that North Carolina is the number one producer of sweet potatoes in the country. I had already found one recipe for sweet potatoes in sage brown butter than made me quite willing (just not excited) to eat them. When a friend pointed me toward one involving cranberries, butter, and bourbon, I knew we had a winner. The original recipe for <a href="http://www.foodandwine.com/recipes/cranberry-glazed-sweet-potatoes">cranberry-glazed sweet potatoes</a> can be found in <u>Food & Wine</u> magazine but it definitely needs adjusting. I was advised to skimp on the cooking time but splurge on the bourbon and that's exactly right. Still working on getting the amounts just right (and a bigger baking dish so the slices can spread out a bit more). Yes, that means I have already gone back to this recipe for seconds. It is that good. The contrast between the bursts of tarty goodness and the buttery, bourbony potatoes is spectacular. I'm upping the amount of cranberries each time just to be sure there's at least one in every bite.<br />
<br />
Alas, I cannot report a cauliflower victory just yet. I hope to have that soon but I haven't procured the oyster mushrooms required. Really want to wait until I have some that I've foraged myself, not the sad little ones in the plastic-wrapped containers at the grocery store. Then again, it would have messed with my theme of maple and bourbon making all the icky vegetables magically turn into crave-worthy side dishes. And if I can't get the oyster mushrooms soon, I may just go ahead and figure out someway to cook cauliflower with one or both of my adult ketchups.<br />
<br />
In the end, I didn't do all scary veggies for all our holiday meals. We let our new old favorite, celery root puree with hazelnuts, stand in for the cauliflower both at Thanksgiving and Christmas. And what did they accompany? Well, for Christmas it was <a href="http://www.bonappetit.com/recipes/2010/05/carbonnade_a_la_flamande_short_ribs">Carbonnade a la Flamande</a> for the meat (<u>Bon Appetit's</u> recipe for beef short-ribs slow-cooked in a muchness of dark beer) and <a href="http://www.vegetariantimes.com/recipe/wild-mushroom-and-caramelized-onion-shepherd-s-pies/">wild mushroom and caramelized onion shepherd's pie </a>with a <a href="http://www.vegetariantimes.com/recipe/mushroom-pinot-noir-sauce/">mushroom-pinot noir sauce</a> (recipes from <u>Vegetarian Times</u>). Throw in our usual wine, sunchoke and arugula salad, and some honey yeast rolls and we were set. More than set.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy5gLUln8KJuUA5g5WHJ2dL-sWJ_N65N1O6p0BIznGZi0jAGlpvok4dQU6iS8NYttlgW1uxYauKjB0ItI2lwVGS5Omta4R8SuKswIvC6O79pezAUsRZPXTRJ291YV95ReK0gZCNjEQ1_uz/s1600/DSC_0040_1287.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy5gLUln8KJuUA5g5WHJ2dL-sWJ_N65N1O6p0BIznGZi0jAGlpvok4dQU6iS8NYttlgW1uxYauKjB0ItI2lwVGS5Omta4R8SuKswIvC6O79pezAUsRZPXTRJ291YV95ReK0gZCNjEQ1_uz/s320/DSC_0040_1287.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJH02nUyIY_0MUMj4PZgnAf7Csz4pG0E9SY248NT5DJTw0WJ6ZfMmTDKWtXaD8hY8Tr55VgeovBuGNBrh9TmOtsnzOKNFpW26WI0xr4UVZGJjcCYhrKRwwAvAPOfi7WQabptK5I7rMsxiQ/s1600/DSC_0047_1284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJH02nUyIY_0MUMj4PZgnAf7Csz4pG0E9SY248NT5DJTw0WJ6ZfMmTDKWtXaD8hY8Tr55VgeovBuGNBrh9TmOtsnzOKNFpW26WI0xr4UVZGJjcCYhrKRwwAvAPOfi7WQabptK5I7rMsxiQ/s320/DSC_0047_1284.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMTrKeqUq4vp46YKD-JzXSIvHcl8YVbIkAIAW7x1SZADcwtrvr66JrB26uAoeECF0SdZHiyCOrbX-FpxnOVLLoKWmAC5KA8XDnimxDi2l4mV5YhWmHHzMJ0cqKgFiKsDNMsKEoWDSXYEyQ/s1600/DSC_0042_1285.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMTrKeqUq4vp46YKD-JzXSIvHcl8YVbIkAIAW7x1SZADcwtrvr66JrB26uAoeECF0SdZHiyCOrbX-FpxnOVLLoKWmAC5KA8XDnimxDi2l4mV5YhWmHHzMJ0cqKgFiKsDNMsKEoWDSXYEyQ/s320/DSC_0042_1285.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdnRtygj42D0Un5XBVDynJwT9rTaKgEbmD07xth_rVhQltudRofnIPXkyzaYWYtDe2ijBiinCz1rl2zEcBMuDUsdTkZK5WzAN9sMLa9v-27n2O7vdU8CY75eQ9yxe3iIEJT2_Oz7bsSOqe/s1600/DSC_0052_1286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdnRtygj42D0Un5XBVDynJwT9rTaKgEbmD07xth_rVhQltudRofnIPXkyzaYWYtDe2ijBiinCz1rl2zEcBMuDUsdTkZK5WzAN9sMLa9v-27n2O7vdU8CY75eQ9yxe3iIEJT2_Oz7bsSOqe/s320/DSC_0052_1286.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
And although we drank Chinese 5-spice mulled wine and hot gingerbread punch at the holidays, it must be noted that ketchup in ketchup (and by that I mean maple syrup in bourbon) makes a lovely beverage any time of the year.<br />
<br />Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-37115547986474663172013-01-22T13:28:00.000-05:002013-01-22T13:28:50.279-05:00AftermathNaturally, I wrote too soon in the last post when I said the creek was going down and the parade of trash and trees had subsided. On Day 4 of the Great Deluge, the rains came harder than before and the creek rose higher than it had been all week. And the trees. Oh, the trees. I've never seen such large trees come down the pike and so many. One after another, huge trees some as big as 40 feet tall (long?) and some a good 18 inches in diameter. Unlike the earlier floating forest, these trees were fresh. Not the accumulated debris of the past year washed down the hillsides and the gullies. No, this time the trees were freshly fallen. I have to assume that we were seeing the arboreal aftereffects of landslides somewhere upstream.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzMgiADmf3kNhw2Tjr72tW42oWxcAA54O8_Z7OAmqFRDWlZ8q8par_b__HO_OJ8rZDjvbCIWk2uNXSpFFjYlQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
Unlike many of the areas to the west of us, we were fortunate to avoid major landslides and washouts. Given the crazy amount of water that came down and sat here for days, we feel quite fortunate to have experienced little lasting damage this time. The barn is still soggy but I've managed to get the worst of the indoor lake drained. Our neighbor's barn did not fare as well. Their old barn collapsed in the flood. Located at the bottom of a steep slope, near the creek but above the floodwaters, the barn most likely was felled by soggy soil. I expect the gush of water coming downhill for days made the ground under the barn so unstable that eventually some key support posts gave way. So sad. Sorry I don't have a before picture. I had actually tried to capture the lovely view last week when I was taking photos from the guesthouse but the sun was in the wrong place. Had intended to try again this week. Sigh. Here's what it looks like now:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3iy21ZxRJtbJc-EQ_MZHENNXKHyILiCOK_O17EO_Un5usLdyVTqWXI9ukkQy9C9mZ9YJ3OYMF6-xuRG6k713GwYI2GEv5e7xMYe96aIIsCuZQCzyO-7mRO6kv5PyPn28COBaQWzlINEjC/s1600/DSC_0004_1280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3iy21ZxRJtbJc-EQ_MZHENNXKHyILiCOK_O17EO_Un5usLdyVTqWXI9ukkQy9C9mZ9YJ3OYMF6-xuRG6k713GwYI2GEv5e7xMYe96aIIsCuZQCzyO-7mRO6kv5PyPn28COBaQWzlINEjC/s320/DSC_0004_1280.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8mYRF6fp3KhlsG7luZkbhAN1qdL6AV8bwAbAVvbzpU_ekoOtKhP5kkzyDPfkuiVvaWei-D2JozvE9E1soKZ1u4Yla3IRlIuwnyw8FKDo3pwLImSgrnC5zEYTddmAH-3GuxfQDsTlAd_w/s1600/DSC_0009_1281.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8mYRF6fp3KhlsG7luZkbhAN1qdL6AV8bwAbAVvbzpU_ekoOtKhP5kkzyDPfkuiVvaWei-D2JozvE9E1soKZ1u4Yla3IRlIuwnyw8FKDo3pwLImSgrnC5zEYTddmAH-3GuxfQDsTlAd_w/s320/DSC_0009_1281.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGGDQq0Ddz3fFtqzM_QpOmqepfjBs2QXUcSWYdMMYm86rLxwz61uUO-fcg1g7q-pLWmvT_ObVVpmMVPqvz7aN3tHSFT_QlcVeZ4nVOCCJJ-Mv50wcVEJrg1QYiLwbuDNOv3AOBdwS9RhUX/s1600/DSC_0013_1282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGGDQq0Ddz3fFtqzM_QpOmqepfjBs2QXUcSWYdMMYm86rLxwz61uUO-fcg1g7q-pLWmvT_ObVVpmMVPqvz7aN3tHSFT_QlcVeZ4nVOCCJJ-Mv50wcVEJrg1QYiLwbuDNOv3AOBdwS9RhUX/s320/DSC_0013_1282.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
I hate losing these old barns. Even if they're not in use (and I don't think this one had been used for much--the owner doesn't farm and leases the land for grazing), they are a beautiful part of the landscape. I love the craftsmanship from an era when people built their own buildings with massive logs and stones from their own or nearby land. The character of the wood--it's color and heft--is unmatched in modern architecture. Most of these barns were built with chestnut trees, so they really are quite irreplaceable. This wasn't the biggest or the prettiest one but every barn I see trips the pragmatic puzzler part of my brain which loves to try to deduce why a barn was designed just so. What purpose did each section serve? Why does this one have a window up there and a lean-to attached on that side? What kind of livestock was kept and was it designed for tractor access or no? Was it all built at once or did they add on as the needs of the farm changed? Now the only question is whether anyone will try to salvage the wood. No doubt the roof will be scavenged for scrap metal but the rest may become just another pile of rotting beams, joists, and siding. A most unjust end for a barn that served honorably. And our valley will never look the same again. Sigh again.<br />
<br />
In other news, the snow never materialized and although it got cold, it was nowhere near as bad as predicted. Thanks to the massive rain and moderate temps this month, it is looking like spring now. The grass is greening up, the speedwell and dandelions are flowering (a boon to the bees looking for nectar and pollen on warm winter days), and even a few lawn tractors have been spotted exercising in the neighborhood. It's been so mild that I still have chard, kale, and a bit of oregano growing in the garden despite my neglecting to put on the floating row cover before winter.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitBMRDh6BwnWt40O-7YTeStdbEGjbPzwfpr5JjldoQYZywHJDjVs_RyVqC-6qbR3avQGZOmCMxaJ4mA69IC6BZj-EHcffN0jFGjjc_wH4ckPM0gqiXnR7CgzllijSVBovSMC6XdJfHAojk/s1600/IMG_0305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitBMRDh6BwnWt40O-7YTeStdbEGjbPzwfpr5JjldoQYZywHJDjVs_RyVqC-6qbR3avQGZOmCMxaJ4mA69IC6BZj-EHcffN0jFGjjc_wH4ckPM0gqiXnR7CgzllijSVBovSMC6XdJfHAojk/s320/IMG_0305.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibWPRZWxEbNH-ZaMQnzyA2iSu7uOBGrpEhPXBApCGO90-_cn0pgrPw2imLHG5zycanDLLPrCpJoKvtBJMxuP1SqXB4NuMsUkmHS7A0-d2Zqq2XBeyHEWCgmlg9TRjP65dswcVWRJt55d1d/s1600/CDB+on+speedwell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibWPRZWxEbNH-ZaMQnzyA2iSu7uOBGrpEhPXBApCGO90-_cn0pgrPw2imLHG5zycanDLLPrCpJoKvtBJMxuP1SqXB4NuMsUkmHS7A0-d2Zqq2XBeyHEWCgmlg9TRjP65dswcVWRJt55d1d/s320/CDB+on+speedwell.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2DIZ3GApEhHDchLfSBP4qSj4EdzX1xlgMcMfeKY3tKoZSUTBKF_B7uyUx4oyqt80OK1PuHEwWVrwD3qaWiJO3pC4v-3dBRPPztFFUvSabEawN_PvxVheVpSnst_vQvhWEKBmEvmFeWJF/s1600/DSC_0014_1275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2DIZ3GApEhHDchLfSBP4qSj4EdzX1xlgMcMfeKY3tKoZSUTBKF_B7uyUx4oyqt80OK1PuHEwWVrwD3qaWiJO3pC4v-3dBRPPztFFUvSabEawN_PvxVheVpSnst_vQvhWEKBmEvmFeWJF/s320/DSC_0014_1275.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwyeCsYV-0-6wz5I4OSMw88YE2mZ8-55znyuA1Yi_nEIl-N3_ARj5TqSprvHHPF6ijDIRM3GICI8EOIOX9xf5VuseDxpKqbEeXhup69_h-iLpSXBikjw1C2R1q5BwE-fKGDTNzIT064VQX/s1600/DSC_0012_1277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwyeCsYV-0-6wz5I4OSMw88YE2mZ8-55znyuA1Yi_nEIl-N3_ARj5TqSprvHHPF6ijDIRM3GICI8EOIOX9xf5VuseDxpKqbEeXhup69_h-iLpSXBikjw1C2R1q5BwE-fKGDTNzIT064VQX/s320/DSC_0012_1277.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2KohIkFPkOcTFOUaPJZ0-eOP4dPwhppoUKLc5xgZPFFQyyuK7digj8LTpgHNtz5-DMooQZDvLqeSjHIuR89WFxhXEw2D6O77MhvvGmHR-gWpohVfpRtapR2NjH3sAh9vg5L4H7MQGubFA/s1600/DSC_0015_1276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2KohIkFPkOcTFOUaPJZ0-eOP4dPwhppoUKLc5xgZPFFQyyuK7digj8LTpgHNtz5-DMooQZDvLqeSjHIuR89WFxhXEw2D6O77MhvvGmHR-gWpohVfpRtapR2NjH3sAh9vg5L4H7MQGubFA/s320/DSC_0015_1276.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXldjzBcX9Nw0x6lfZ9fwy5P47BbIbzjlvxU4IyD0DOF9D3Pc69T9ZWSoizrCeWFmOXq99sQobIqTssP0CNf5lF5uDzbDOuqumjRZhZNe2cmg-hN36nlOs30pWdMtPzBgWzl-cYeZHkhai/s1600/DSC_0016_1274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXldjzBcX9Nw0x6lfZ9fwy5P47BbIbzjlvxU4IyD0DOF9D3Pc69T9ZWSoizrCeWFmOXq99sQobIqTssP0CNf5lF5uDzbDOuqumjRZhZNe2cmg-hN36nlOs30pWdMtPzBgWzl-cYeZHkhai/s320/DSC_0016_1274.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
All of this is quite wrong, of course. It is January and we need lots more cold hours for our fruit trees. Just yesterday, I saw a tree in town covered in pink blossoms as though it were March or April. And our hyacinths are coming up. Much too soon. I fear a repeat of last year's early warmup following by a freeze that killed all our apple blossoms and zapped the asparagus. At least we'll have a few stretches of real winter weather this week and next with temps in the teens and 20s. That should convince everything to go or stay dormant for a little while.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho9Ovbkowet1MeZZaWsFfh0c5P4FkQRqKt4fkdvCeaJ55I2Digx0kUm0BSoc0FCLaRzei6SkUW57WPVKvQmLYyYnPN7n0dHBFfdxmCH7whobhAdebP7ji3hC-2Ya9-xMGbqTMEGQqn5y2o/s1600/IMG_0316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho9Ovbkowet1MeZZaWsFfh0c5P4FkQRqKt4fkdvCeaJ55I2Digx0kUm0BSoc0FCLaRzei6SkUW57WPVKvQmLYyYnPN7n0dHBFfdxmCH7whobhAdebP7ji3hC-2Ya9-xMGbqTMEGQqn5y2o/s320/IMG_0316.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The reprieve from extreme wintry weather last week did give us time to do some repairs. We redug ditches and cleared one major blockage due to one of the resident groundhogs digging a new burrow (photo above) and depositing the dirt in the exact spot in the ditch where the water drains off the hillside). Then we filled in the channels in both driveways where water had started to carve out new paths and we re-established the firepit. So much sand had been deposited on top of it that we didn't bother to dig out the rocks that used to form our ring of fire. Just dug up the logs of the outer circle and dug out the center of the pit. We'll have a nice big burn as soon as the wood dries out and the cold wind dies down.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsacM4wOHGpgNJVRsgqFt8SSW5VM1G_I-dddaaYuVmVL9I8r_zMoHZHNiPpvGsJAb0oDy6wpnxjBDvOsJkRS_EwRCzmkScDEwMdGlmXpJrCe-l6UMNXs2ZryQyUNWtJMURFzU-rRHUHadv/s1600/IMG_0309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsacM4wOHGpgNJVRsgqFt8SSW5VM1G_I-dddaaYuVmVL9I8r_zMoHZHNiPpvGsJAb0oDy6wpnxjBDvOsJkRS_EwRCzmkScDEwMdGlmXpJrCe-l6UMNXs2ZryQyUNWtJMURFzU-rRHUHadv/s320/IMG_0309.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
And that, dear ones, is the final installment of our January 2013 flood update. I hope.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-87782904967214333492013-01-17T11:23:00.000-05:002013-01-17T11:23:04.109-05:00Rough Year for the Barns<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwAbmzVK-DZOKoywVkaBBHvK_FMKxi1ci0Z3dNbn3adsgV_mXgCxq6NEYuCWSeC3qK8iEV3nf8XzdJl0jCkyA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Still soggy. The creek's still high but at least there aren't so many logs coming down with the water any more (but this video shows one of the many which bobbed by a couple of days ago). The promise of a few days to dry out got tossed out with a revised forecast--lots more rain last night and today then switching to snow this evening. We always take the accumulation forecasts with a big grain of salt but when they say 4-6 inches, we at least pay attention. That's a lot for this area (though we've had as much as 18 inches in one go) and it only takes an inch or so to make driving treacherous on these mountain roads even for those of us who grew up with serious snow. The real worry now is mudslides. There have already been several in the region and with very soggy ground about to go through a quick freeze/thaw cycle (forecast for early next week calls for highs in the teens), it could get ugly. Speaking of ugly.....<br />
<br />
It's been a rough year for our barns. Eschol decided that winter was an excellent time to air condition the big barn and in a very short period around Christmas, removed the remaining doors and most of the siding from lower level of the barn. Not only did he make me very unhappy by messing with one of my favorite parts of the farm--I love these old barns and seeing them every morning when I walk out to feed the buffs used to bring me such pleasure--he created a huge hassle factor. His propensity for taking the siding, doors, and assorted supporting structures and rolling them downhill often into the wet weather creek made for a lot of hard, messy labor for me as I did my daily salvage operation. It's not like the wood was all in great shape to begin with but it was still functional. Here's what it looked like on Dec. 19th as the buffs soaked in the sun--south side, yo!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-MiLMZpudrr4nLDcS7LeVfOtcxI98n2Ig0m2D2LxIp3XJYhxq2YbLLix5l0aF6v1z0FQTG3ztymw1bdIH_u1fx-9IKte0oQiOdWd6M8aANI7etZ-Sc-j9rxRqq7JnZI-WK3hZgCUlS8tK/s1600/IMG_0104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-MiLMZpudrr4nLDcS7LeVfOtcxI98n2Ig0m2D2LxIp3XJYhxq2YbLLix5l0aF6v1z0FQTG3ztymw1bdIH_u1fx-9IKte0oQiOdWd6M8aANI7etZ-Sc-j9rxRqq7JnZI-WK3hZgCUlS8tK/s320/IMG_0104.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
And here it is a couple of weeks later with my quick and dirty fix for keeping him from getting at the structurally-significant supports. I can put the siding back on but I don't think I can pick up the floor of the hayloft if that collapses.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRojxgvtI9DaB0binCxSqXeRD3Hy4TlCWO0YEkfg4YTDEx84RT-7shbtULzX9AHSDswSilY3lyfIWxhyphenhyphenc6gv9se6GLT_uaaPAWToTohvvq-NCwH2tMtcNyGBJPnTmNfpSOseadJgI-swGT/s1600/DSC_0007_1272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRojxgvtI9DaB0binCxSqXeRD3Hy4TlCWO0YEkfg4YTDEx84RT-7shbtULzX9AHSDswSilY3lyfIWxhyphenhyphenc6gv9se6GLT_uaaPAWToTohvvq-NCwH2tMtcNyGBJPnTmNfpSOseadJgI-swGT/s320/DSC_0007_1272.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf194I5kg8K52MaHIQUisALrBjhjbb8MQBqJpaLQed-KgpvF1Qed_Zyr5MtSkmr3-voDk8Y2koGu1PnmDVnKFA7JtyjLIZc84kiP-C3QU6RhCj8CXW01YS2-tIwzxA7cdgp0TpVNth85Ks/s1600/DSC_0004_1273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf194I5kg8K52MaHIQUisALrBjhjbb8MQBqJpaLQed-KgpvF1Qed_Zyr5MtSkmr3-voDk8Y2koGu1PnmDVnKFA7JtyjLIZc84kiP-C3QU6RhCj8CXW01YS2-tIwzxA7cdgp0TpVNth85Ks/s320/DSC_0004_1273.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
No point in putting the siding back on while Eschol's around, however. Probably goes without saying that he has put himself on the menu here in short order. I'm working on finding a way to get him from farm to freezer before he does much more damage. I know he's frustrated but a frustrated bull who likes using his horns to play demolition derby is just not something I need in my life right now. We have also decided to tear down the old chicken coop. It needed massive repairs and since I'm still on a steep learning curve with the buffs, it seemed unlikely that I'd want to take on chickens any time soon. So, when Eschol punched a calf-sized hole in the side of the coop, we cut off his access and made the executive decision to tear it down and salvage the wood for use in repairing the more-critical barns. The flood waters taking a new path this week just reinforced why putting effort into repairing the coop never would have paid off anyway:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxFhtfsdnR2ZuKKihhgUK1gg8-gCa9LJdZ7VA-kxXKHmpHW8YVSGd24m6lhaQqQRinjhki5hW2VL5qs_ZXqtQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Yup, there's a reason why the floor of the coop had rotted out. Just too damn soggy. Oh well, at least now I don't have to figure out how to predator-proof a coop against coyotes, foxes, raccoons, snakes, etc. just to have the chickens eaten by our resident red-shouldered hawks. So, if we ever dry out, we'll be doing another demolition project (the pig sty takedown was our first). Too bad Eschol can't be trusted to do the job responsibly.Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-34221695080550943532013-01-15T12:12:00.003-05:002013-01-15T12:12:41.658-05:00Ski Lake ClaireWhen we lived in Atlanta, we lived next to a neighborhood called Lake Claire. The good-humored residents of this charming collection of Craftsman bungalows drive cars sporting bumper stickers that exhort one to "Ski Lake Clare." The joke, of course, is that there is no lake in Lake Claire. Since the flood waters returned yesterday, I have been pondering whether to promote our new guesthouse with a slogan like Ski Lake Sandy. Sorry. I know it's already been a bad year for people named Sandy. But our creek is Sandy Mush Creek and Ski Lake Mush sounds more like a dreary breakfast offering than a pleasant way to recreate.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg6RspAAM66qwrNMUpDTHUGeAE-d-7e9rDQKXBzOO97vPjrqhCjI8Z5yajnHKV3GftOaEjuxtErn7t6onJ4Osrqdo0q2zwbtCFpXdb6q6E9lhr5W-_hUF9jItu0sUF0lRU3zXHD0c20W0N/s1600/IMG_0227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg6RspAAM66qwrNMUpDTHUGeAE-d-7e9rDQKXBzOO97vPjrqhCjI8Z5yajnHKV3GftOaEjuxtErn7t6onJ4Osrqdo0q2zwbtCFpXdb6q6E9lhr5W-_hUF9jItu0sUF0lRU3zXHD0c20W0N/s320/IMG_0227.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
It seems as though I've been writing about floods here quite frequently. Sure, living down by the creek where all the water drains down from the surrounding hills, we expect to be soggy. They call it bottom land for a reason. Soggy bottom. Still, I can't help but feel that these 100-year floods are happening every six months or so. Why it was just six months ago that the calves were born amidst a similar flood. I feel bad for the new neighbors who over the weekend moved into the doublewide just up the creek from us. A raging creek rising up to greet you in your backyard is not the welcome wagon experience one wants.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmnXXx780LK5QndiyuYYPd7Wqr3ngilvecoBRb23bvCnpCF2pPxwUjepr6NyUaoToEqeXnY37ne7OFH1mqbgXPqUockRjoGbwnigZ5Agfs3KZPB7TClwFZFX-vu40IxU4dmiGwirBEzEJ9/s1600/IMG_0228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmnXXx780LK5QndiyuYYPd7Wqr3ngilvecoBRb23bvCnpCF2pPxwUjepr6NyUaoToEqeXnY37ne7OFH1mqbgXPqUockRjoGbwnigZ5Agfs3KZPB7TClwFZFX-vu40IxU4dmiGwirBEzEJ9/s320/IMG_0228.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghN7GdRO8pz3ilrIOoT6SMF9jl35KA8tnJt5jFHLre8D8sBZmC9xm3T9fQhfDoVp0jxpQZn3Ve_eKaKj5fLOwwIocxxEF4zgKKJD0c8cergvv1IfMJg2p6neqYrGRucbAC4itsn5-X1xNn/s1600/DSC_0010_1266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghN7GdRO8pz3ilrIOoT6SMF9jl35KA8tnJt5jFHLre8D8sBZmC9xm3T9fQhfDoVp0jxpQZn3Ve_eKaKj5fLOwwIocxxEF4zgKKJD0c8cergvv1IfMJg2p6neqYrGRucbAC4itsn5-X1xNn/s320/DSC_0010_1266.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I must admit, there's a kind of excitement, an amped-up state precipitated by the sight and sound of the rising, rushing waters. A bit like the heightened state of awareness that comes with a big electrical storm, there's an anticipation of the extraordinary, that which takes us out of our everyday routine, as well as a dread of impending disaster. It's hard to take one's eyes off the creek as a mind-boggling array of logs, trees, stumps, trash, bits of barn, and UFOs (unidentified floating objects) race toward the house then veer away down the creek. Then there are all the branches--the feeder creeks that cut through our property emptying into Sandy Mush. This one's a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=4257021305935">wet weather creek</a>--normally dry but this year it's been flowing with alarming regularity.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE7F2FuOovTLUYYYVmTTK2QFEojLCOHHgjcRci9A39xzRBSShjOCVyIKp78mRS3vJ7o0cuBJOovJ_gX8qPdskvlVYkutFpXBuxe-misKK3MNnhaoA71BNXmVUca56P4Eqf74Yv9Xc1NZtq/s1600/IMG_0214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE7F2FuOovTLUYYYVmTTK2QFEojLCOHHgjcRci9A39xzRBSShjOCVyIKp78mRS3vJ7o0cuBJOovJ_gX8qPdskvlVYkutFpXBuxe-misKK3MNnhaoA71BNXmVUca56P4Eqf74Yv9Xc1NZtq/s320/IMG_0214.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Once the sun goes down, we are left with nothing but the roar of the creeks. The sound surrounds and permeates the house even with every window shut tight. Sound sleep is impossible. The mind imaginatively fills in the details that our eyes cannot. Just how high is the creek now? Has the water breached the lower pasture or swept away the garden? Is that crashing the sound of flotsam smashing into the rocks as the logs and stumps get washed round the bend of the creek or is it one of our trees losing its grip on the soggy soil. Hard not to worry that dawn's first light will reveal a tangle of mangled fence line and deep channels gouged into the driveway and the sloped pastures long since denuded of their protective summer cover of grasses. Let's not even think about a repeat or worse of the landslide a few years back that came within inches of taking out the main road. Instead, we try to think good thoughts about our house, nice and dry, high above the creek and perched on solid rock.<br />
<br />
The first big flood during our tenure here scooped out a lot of sand from the area we call the beach (home to our fire pit). The subsequent floods, however, have dumped much more sand than they've taken away. We're rather pleased with this trend in terra forming but remain quite cognizant of how easily it could go the other way. Each time the waters recede, we look to see if our landholdings have increased (and, if so, grab the shovels to excavate the fire pit) or if someone downstream will be benefiting from our unintentional largesse. Here's the beach now:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXLDVbHuIedPZoHvQIFK5euz3rcSNpQLqk2zUAHneicozQWH660e4mFo5iE8Ozm8ImSBgj_zN5cpt4Aa3M7qV5C7zRbgiIfouGOEtswt54trfWpj-GtxbaRXhMWAOHZ-Pqj5E8PMtHq6QC/s1600/IMG_0225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXLDVbHuIedPZoHvQIFK5euz3rcSNpQLqk2zUAHneicozQWH660e4mFo5iE8Ozm8ImSBgj_zN5cpt4Aa3M7qV5C7zRbgiIfouGOEtswt54trfWpj-GtxbaRXhMWAOHZ-Pqj5E8PMtHq6QC/s320/IMG_0225.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
As any homeowner learns eventually, water is going to go where it wants to go. Despite your efforts to capture it, repel it, or get it into a diversion program, water takes these as mere suggestions at best. We have dug ditches, built berms, and installed gutters, rain barrels, and drainage pipes. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don't. And what works one time often doesn't the next. This time we have been lucky. Despite massive torrents of water gushing down the main driveway, the gravel has largely stayed put. The steep and historically badly rutted guesthouse driveway that we just had regraded last week also seems to be holding. On the downside, the barn has taken on more water than ever but fortunately, it is an area where it will not do much damage. The buffs will have soggier bedding than I'd like but they don't seem to care. Just an added level of challenge for me to carry their not insubstantial cowpies out to the manure pile.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQtA2ixzNONqdounCZKHfse8AdFWkRTYnDW0CsPpAmfWnNPqhdwT9pmCpQL2pPXngIu9tiGwtB01Sktw3R0FyBaI41khff2OMj0vvOhN0INsqmVNonlYEkzzemgESae64ir09TbhH817AW/s1600/IMG_0232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQtA2ixzNONqdounCZKHfse8AdFWkRTYnDW0CsPpAmfWnNPqhdwT9pmCpQL2pPXngIu9tiGwtB01Sktw3R0FyBaI41khff2OMj0vvOhN0INsqmVNonlYEkzzemgESae64ir09TbhH817AW/s320/IMG_0232.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Also on the plus side, the Fish Pond may soon be living up to its facetious name. The normally dry vestige of what we think was once a water retention area (from long ago when this property was part of a dairy farm) we named in honor of our real estate agent's vision of us farming tilapia here. Personally, I'd still rather the buffs relocate their wallow here than get into the whole fingerlings-to-fishes scene but never say never. We all may have to adapt to the changes that global weirding seems to be bringing. Just glad I have water buffalo since water seems like it's going to be our friend and our foe for the foreseeable future. Insert your own favorite f-word here. I know which one I'm using.Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-55667453961125078522012-12-13T18:04:00.000-05:002012-12-13T18:04:30.043-05:00Buffs Getting BufferThe calves, they are a changin'--and fast! I'm wracking my brain trying to remember all the changes, big and small, that I have observed in them as they passed the 3-, 4-, and now 5-month mark. The switches at the end of their tails have turned from white to golden as expected. Their horns are getting longer and their bodies are getting wider. And taller. Much taller. In case you've forgotten (I know I had), let's review just how small they used to be:<br />
<br />
Here they are at birth on 07/12/12 (Chuck, then Mabel):<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsssZwimJzhctrmdkpCTwx_rxuMzUCq-8h731Rd8H5DCN3kYy0_VDQovMyiQmzeD8Zy9IYMx06Opwbs-oXIDvNvwffodFSYJKk117ruqYoJ16PzncMZBgA-10GU5C5HbsRigP86qxGRGsf/s1600/DSC_0007_972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsssZwimJzhctrmdkpCTwx_rxuMzUCq-8h731Rd8H5DCN3kYy0_VDQovMyiQmzeD8Zy9IYMx06Opwbs-oXIDvNvwffodFSYJKk117ruqYoJ16PzncMZBgA-10GU5C5HbsRigP86qxGRGsf/s320/DSC_0007_972.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRbDIXEn2gVTmd8BCC1hftAjzNxk1eFQJS9YCgWOqkDqVJcfmwwNycPX5jLQG0DvCnxrw_8sKB8FtiZbsAaQ94z2BzDOmcPeZcLx0Wl1BWLmyEsJsVk9v8NfvsXMCOks5q1iQdC3fJmA_c/s1600/photo+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRbDIXEn2gVTmd8BCC1hftAjzNxk1eFQJS9YCgWOqkDqVJcfmwwNycPX5jLQG0DvCnxrw_8sKB8FtiZbsAaQ94z2BzDOmcPeZcLx0Wl1BWLmyEsJsVk9v8NfvsXMCOks5q1iQdC3fJmA_c/s320/photo+(1).JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
By two months, they looked like this--taller but still narrow and little nubs for horns:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8bmMQyrCrx97Mgmgvz2YikzqbmyW6Y7oKck5uWceuWqpLtVDjEYqo71uJGzD_3aqLfwzsSWhG10IIjDPdD2bnV1z1jzigPO2rfU5Dp-7fRWeNP9Z-Q5ycH1qG535Q0x8hwOH6xDVCdZbZ/s1600/DSC_0045_1154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8bmMQyrCrx97Mgmgvz2YikzqbmyW6Y7oKck5uWceuWqpLtVDjEYqo71uJGzD_3aqLfwzsSWhG10IIjDPdD2bnV1z1jzigPO2rfU5Dp-7fRWeNP9Z-Q5ycH1qG535Q0x8hwOH6xDVCdZbZ/s320/DSC_0045_1154.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTgtg-D24c1X4ntVoU4B0ko3NCHhn2lOMSx_UkRfVdY8246bLRm22j7_i9Bp3DrMiNpuu1KoPqqGXyFcg1BqbJMOPAZuo05FLJa79hBZRz9_IKwBYerNMqO_v8ZKEigr_tol29qBFFVbYy/s1600/DSC_0023_1152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTgtg-D24c1X4ntVoU4B0ko3NCHhn2lOMSx_UkRfVdY8246bLRm22j7_i9Bp3DrMiNpuu1KoPqqGXyFcg1BqbJMOPAZuo05FLJa79hBZRz9_IKwBYerNMqO_v8ZKEigr_tol29qBFFVbYy/s320/DSC_0023_1152.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And now:<br />
<br />
Mabel still has the sweetest face and her auburn hair is unique in the herd. Personality-wise she seems to be taking after her Aunt Audrey--very affectionate and gentle.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc3rZ5z1NHe4bg_5jTrMlRohUuRrH60ORpTk33OrlGRn153cLh1BwcoGAn2xNSwXMehKuhYUOHtzXuWylj-NFsThLT07WI5o6_2h606a7kfxZ2s3Usspghp43nQUkMqmjfuuJxuj8p_WYq/s1600/DSC_0004_1240.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc3rZ5z1NHe4bg_5jTrMlRohUuRrH60ORpTk33OrlGRn153cLh1BwcoGAn2xNSwXMehKuhYUOHtzXuWylj-NFsThLT07WI5o6_2h606a7kfxZ2s3Usspghp43nQUkMqmjfuuJxuj8p_WYq/s320/DSC_0004_1240.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXtqTZ1BId0MWH3XKGDpsyIJJAxVIHy9LIGrHa7djCb7v_fztyQNyW3CwTLV_zEsdzqVy5p55AR6sUeftaTqNOtdaoyobJIhNeKhBI_K_vD9p9ruRgvYFggZ1grtc5L3a2a7-pnAmzhZS/s1600/DSC_0018_1237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXtqTZ1BId0MWH3XKGDpsyIJJAxVIHy9LIGrHa7djCb7v_fztyQNyW3CwTLV_zEsdzqVy5p55AR6sUeftaTqNOtdaoyobJIhNeKhBI_K_vD9p9ruRgvYFggZ1grtc5L3a2a7-pnAmzhZS/s320/DSC_0018_1237.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXtqTZ1BId0MWH3XKGDpsyIJJAxVIHy9LIGrHa7djCb7v_fztyQNyW3CwTLV_zEsdzqVy5p55AR6sUeftaTqNOtdaoyobJIhNeKhBI_K_vD9p9ruRgvYFggZ1grtc5L3a2a7-pnAmzhZS/s1600/DSC_0018_1237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
She tends to hang very close to the herd. Sometimes it's with Effie, her mom, sometimes Audrey, but frequently, she hangs with dad. Eschol is still a monumental pain in the rear for me but he has turned out to be really good with the calves.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzR0WTz3yUH8-0Qnh5LySd8HnFsIFuGM4UWFVI9Ac_in6jHNdgXfQPPeNo0reRbxNrC2S_XAk8HY8dcMeLpKEvGSX7z1zmgQGzqgvx_XBY3Rro5EV_3McIL1Wh3QEfu38khYtgXX0SVeNq/s1600/DSC_0009_1241.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzR0WTz3yUH8-0Qnh5LySd8HnFsIFuGM4UWFVI9Ac_in6jHNdgXfQPPeNo0reRbxNrC2S_XAk8HY8dcMeLpKEvGSX7z1zmgQGzqgvx_XBY3Rro5EV_3McIL1Wh3QEfu38khYtgXX0SVeNq/s320/DSC_0009_1241.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
It's hard to see her horns since they're swept back behind her luxurious locks. She has a fine head of what we refer to as "Elvis hair". Here's a view from the back (down in front, Chuck!):<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKknVXF97wGCdstIV0MyVVu-nSSWQFr06ilr8b8MOov5bsYg4f8MrmkqZ2yzPLu9z8-7xdePY2JWV7fC5XDzhzhbeILGaTKvzmI-seJKUxjhVjO7dk8ck0YQgXXGiyikQxJnSwyAnJERIx/s1600/DSC_0022_1242.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKknVXF97wGCdstIV0MyVVu-nSSWQFr06ilr8b8MOov5bsYg4f8MrmkqZ2yzPLu9z8-7xdePY2JWV7fC5XDzhzhbeILGaTKvzmI-seJKUxjhVjO7dk8ck0YQgXXGiyikQxJnSwyAnJERIx/s320/DSC_0022_1242.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Then there's Chuck:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_CszCb5_4bVl6upRYhIb3XEdJjWOPUurrFBOuKhgOoTjkh8yt-WHkeBv8lDTxO38alEfE7FISgjBOwgtmJ6C0ymJ07wzkKlHlVooKI8pclcgNDfN1FmHbIlxW7-FfWtO5tyu_beOIBHRP/s1600/DSC_0002_1239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_CszCb5_4bVl6upRYhIb3XEdJjWOPUurrFBOuKhgOoTjkh8yt-WHkeBv8lDTxO38alEfE7FISgjBOwgtmJ6C0ymJ07wzkKlHlVooKI8pclcgNDfN1FmHbIlxW7-FfWtO5tyu_beOIBHRP/s320/DSC_0002_1239.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Longer horns going out to the side, a more serious (often mischievous) look on his face, and already he is showing some of the beefiness in his face that we associate with the bulls. Sadly, he is also turning out to be a little turd. He apparently has been observing Eschol closely and likes what he sees. It didn't take more than a couple of months before he decided that it was more fun to charge me while I mucked out the barn than eat his hay (my usual way to distract the herd so I can work). Fortunately, I'm still more clever than he is so I have avoided contact but I was hoping for more of a honeymoon period before I had to keep an eye out for two bulls. It's clear that at this stage, he's just having fun and testing his boundaries. He has learned that none of the females in his life are amused by his antics, so he mostly headbutts Eschol for practice. Eschol has moderated his return butts such that Chuck gets practice without getting annihilated. He doesn't let Chuck push him around, mind you, but he's more merciful than I would have expected. If Chuck gets too obnoxious, Eschol lets him know that it's time to go away and he does so in no uncertain terms.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijRZyfVMUqZCMDjb_64elVuZK07mm3q7dbXoMxfDPg7aaAWtXm8dEWgZcv4L30WjwqT34ewn5PTBuJ6cG2_STwpC4CMBCqju1yRzZLA_l6MR0aIbNUJ9kDs7EB8DCoUOTH163dmW4q44Un/s1600/DSC_0023_1243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijRZyfVMUqZCMDjb_64elVuZK07mm3q7dbXoMxfDPg7aaAWtXm8dEWgZcv4L30WjwqT34ewn5PTBuJ6cG2_STwpC4CMBCqju1yRzZLA_l6MR0aIbNUJ9kDs7EB8DCoUOTH163dmW4q44Un/s320/DSC_0023_1243.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
At least Chuck hasn't broken my 300 gallon stock tank or ripped the boards off the front of the barn like his dad. I'm sure that is not far off in the future. He is already showing a more independent streak. He often wanders off from the herd and is fond of playing last-one-in-wins when I'm trying to cross them back in to their main pasture before night falls. We've had a few rounds of tug-of-calf. His horns are long enough to grab but these guys do not respond well to being led by the horns. So far, I've won but only because I can still bump him from behind hard enough to move him--much like they move each other along. That will not be the case for long. Bribery will become the only option.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIH1KwA_hEKASgrqd4m-1k97RmEFHRzb2uX9THsppN9xO10dGcyK8XzJCy2p7sHudWc00R0FGRPco6MwZYzvi-4NfOJSHtGXrCmBrLrdlvxynBuK2Lsm0NnCrpxNjUCgkEAHYnp1QUOiXc/s1600/DSC_0031_1238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIH1KwA_hEKASgrqd4m-1k97RmEFHRzb2uX9THsppN9xO10dGcyK8XzJCy2p7sHudWc00R0FGRPco6MwZYzvi-4NfOJSHtGXrCmBrLrdlvxynBuK2Lsm0NnCrpxNjUCgkEAHYnp1QUOiXc/s320/DSC_0031_1238.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
In many ways, both Chuck and Mabel are acting like miniature versions of their parents and seem fully integrated into the daily rhythms of the herd. They started grazing like the adults within the first couple of months (and now that the grass is gone, they eat the hay I put down) but they have continued to nurse. I suspect that's tapering off now but I do still catch them nursing now and again. I'm thrilled that it has gone on this long.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifTB3wIHqdAVBajBwt-JXIFhWjy6ORBU683e-qnPWgHPFbovWtUCi1L4unnQ2gyLupIAyTyqmxN59FOH1HV39EKk8vcFZi7iOItYWrGGUZpbhCadobRZTcjmwj9VD6JO4Ao38uuaJu9Myi/s1600/IMG_0008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifTB3wIHqdAVBajBwt-JXIFhWjy6ORBU683e-qnPWgHPFbovWtUCi1L4unnQ2gyLupIAyTyqmxN59FOH1HV39EKk8vcFZi7iOItYWrGGUZpbhCadobRZTcjmwj9VD6JO4Ao38uuaJu9Myi/s320/IMG_0008.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
Thanks to the rich milk, both Chuck and Mabel have put on a healthy layer of fat over their bones. That, plus a luxuriously thick coat of hair, means they should stay plenty warm this winter. And that's the news on our barnfull of buffalo.Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-47484889077842072072012-11-22T22:14:00.000-05:002012-11-22T22:14:19.393-05:00ThanksgivingIt felt good to exercise the old cooking muscles today. It's been a few years since we last had Thanksgiving at home and many, many months since we did any elaborate, pull-out-all-the-pots-and-jockey-for-pole-position-on-the-stovetop-style meals. The feast day got off to an auspicious start when I looked out the kitchen window to see our resident red-shouldered hawk perched on the limb of a walnut tree, enjoying his own fresh, local, organic Thanksgiving meal. Maybe not everyone's idea of a good start to the day but somehow it seemed fitting to me.<br />
<br />
We took advantage of the 40-degree temperature swings that seem to have become the norm this fall and concentrated the cooking early in the day. Spending half the day cooking hearty autumnal foods seems like a good idea when it's 27 degrees at 7am. Not so much when it's 65 degrees at 3pm. So, in fine farm tradition, we had our dinner mid-day then got out to enjoy the beautiful weather.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1euqejsm0jE4lgC3r-Jd8mPHOvBD5Z_GCc_1Y-K9l9haEMtLtLVVzU8e9betkyMvzc_8_-etksRS8Q3UUrW7QQA-JkQQcQCAYbHOGgqiBzWfymzEjWUNlRbcEgx5RpQ1cc3mLshrakOoH/s1600/DSC_0022_1225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1euqejsm0jE4lgC3r-Jd8mPHOvBD5Z_GCc_1Y-K9l9haEMtLtLVVzU8e9betkyMvzc_8_-etksRS8Q3UUrW7QQA-JkQQcQCAYbHOGgqiBzWfymzEjWUNlRbcEgx5RpQ1cc3mLshrakOoH/s320/DSC_0022_1225.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The menu:<br />
Kentucky Maple cocktails (bourbon, cider, maple syrup, ginger beer....)<br />
Honey yeast rolls (served with a lovely 2008 vintage tulip poplar honey)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI7ysjCA6KUC_VyFQCUdO5sXAyW7qcctGHxZe51hhmRbVHfZ2lxjpnQaA58iok7sZU8_XvCIu-8UT91gg9ekaRVx6LTBfldjegDgUkqYwVBSJ5jfyY_aCUaB7km3QQbGeHqX7nZf-9QDLE/s1600/DSC_0013_1219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI7ysjCA6KUC_VyFQCUdO5sXAyW7qcctGHxZe51hhmRbVHfZ2lxjpnQaA58iok7sZU8_XvCIu-8UT91gg9ekaRVx6LTBfldjegDgUkqYwVBSJ5jfyY_aCUaB7km3QQbGeHqX7nZf-9QDLE/s320/DSC_0013_1219.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWE3Az_J-gqxAYCfAOwsUyX1sNkHq6_kymDmPqR2fO_sTMu_LBU6I1IEtvP6NGB43MK3bpmvYJLGeyH1oyZIJUmtAgvNatfHO-Bkhtq0cn2pdmmnwJGYYw6usTYYOYcc6kaZC0hMSL-uM_/s1600/DSC_0024_1226.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWE3Az_J-gqxAYCfAOwsUyX1sNkHq6_kymDmPqR2fO_sTMu_LBU6I1IEtvP6NGB43MK3bpmvYJLGeyH1oyZIJUmtAgvNatfHO-Bkhtq0cn2pdmmnwJGYYw6usTYYOYcc6kaZC0hMSL-uM_/s320/DSC_0024_1226.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Tofurky with a praline mustard glaze and Tofurky gravy for the veg<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiVgZo-2PI3j4XQ6FsgvqjRM0UCr_0XQcixympa-e93eX91KZzd8-pczECozroMrhB8M6zd3p7Oyk9YCpWioTYaI82RpRd9rKZr34RpG-fNwdTlogUoo2yc7zHW6aHGkdJKluKbPqZ7oBQ/s1600/DSC_0017_1223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiVgZo-2PI3j4XQ6FsgvqjRM0UCr_0XQcixympa-e93eX91KZzd8-pczECozroMrhB8M6zd3p7Oyk9YCpWioTYaI82RpRd9rKZr34RpG-fNwdTlogUoo2yc7zHW6aHGkdJKluKbPqZ7oBQ/s320/DSC_0017_1223.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4H_1nVJYKAgByYQ7AFTPNc_Ub80oMWKupGOjhr_kn6gp-QPfLL6ktpw1aW6IxvrsUS6m1AGKAD0y_NlWM4ApCH7w8M4enxhozjrxpIgdgF-WbfEgCGbjZq9gdcmJEyHONhtZJ4mzWCZtY/s1600/DSC_0016_1224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4H_1nVJYKAgByYQ7AFTPNc_Ub80oMWKupGOjhr_kn6gp-QPfLL6ktpw1aW6IxvrsUS6m1AGKAD0y_NlWM4ApCH7w8M4enxhozjrxpIgdgF-WbfEgCGbjZq9gdcmJEyHONhtZJ4mzWCZtY/s320/DSC_0016_1224.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Beef bourguignon for the meat<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYJ36F4zioEIVVr7XYLXl5-M1Prg43vKHuuyxqLMvBI-1Gu5r1yGtnjc7P9zKnm84D1JX9ixdGORPFzrvPOl6f4SHXNm2NisomMjKA9T0bo6fOrngGw6uDjU6a00zJIKnnnbkDAh80JMvD/s1600/DSC_0008_1217.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYJ36F4zioEIVVr7XYLXl5-M1Prg43vKHuuyxqLMvBI-1Gu5r1yGtnjc7P9zKnm84D1JX9ixdGORPFzrvPOl6f4SHXNm2NisomMjKA9T0bo6fOrngGw6uDjU6a00zJIKnnnbkDAh80JMvD/s320/DSC_0008_1217.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
Stir-fried sweet potatoes with brown butter and sage<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvTqhbTswx66trbjtPAhSbqUt81uJql2pnBssNf8okrVwoI6hLZ1ESrU66e-3IB7NH2CCsA9LhdFmphUcRnD3sfCabDQdzypLlURsCUKLU39MJ4LMw7GFbwKfQa3akvQzi6dtVx3KnvPS/s1600/DSC_0015_1222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvTqhbTswx66trbjtPAhSbqUt81uJql2pnBssNf8okrVwoI6hLZ1ESrU66e-3IB7NH2CCsA9LhdFmphUcRnD3sfCabDQdzypLlURsCUKLU39MJ4LMw7GFbwKfQa3akvQzi6dtVx3KnvPS/s320/DSC_0015_1222.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Celery root puree with toasted hazelnuts (yes, our own home-grown hazelnuts)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4E7tUUuk6EhoPm269MzxQoLtWKpkl8bhrUVW78_E1R3gVu34tnGkXQMNS1YcF_kEMOMPWFUBA_da5akK_51T6iRtw2Zzp8sERbnATLhgFRk3QDD7Hudw98-LaN1Z_cdfXYm6zZop4ODPO/s1600/DSC_0014_1221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4E7tUUuk6EhoPm269MzxQoLtWKpkl8bhrUVW78_E1R3gVu34tnGkXQMNS1YcF_kEMOMPWFUBA_da5akK_51T6iRtw2Zzp8sERbnATLhgFRk3QDD7Hudw98-LaN1Z_cdfXYm6zZop4ODPO/s320/DSC_0014_1221.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Brussels sprouts with maple syrup (my first-ever attempt at cooking Brussels sprouts and I must say they turned out rather well)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSIOZ2s7ElASkPUGCqyk7KBmiAk_842hQAkJmpW0Jdbu7YdPC1Z5rDCP4zSCUUvoqPWVzCGWLUue_siHVb44HdHe2__jhtZ4PTBW5CSJ9ohrZ4MKuJGqd3lnHORRDaJeNozHfPapuihthz/s1600/DSC_0010_1218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSIOZ2s7ElASkPUGCqyk7KBmiAk_842hQAkJmpW0Jdbu7YdPC1Z5rDCP4zSCUUvoqPWVzCGWLUue_siHVb44HdHe2__jhtZ4PTBW5CSJ9ohrZ4MKuJGqd3lnHORRDaJeNozHfPapuihthz/s320/DSC_0010_1218.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Sokol-Blosser Meditrina for the wine<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAgX9xx2-IBcAfB1AKTa1DZDWa5kkIrvBJ46qzdw6m4XnXgPCKRxT-xYUV5GVehrsJKpvQxYnKn4OuEBNbjOjhgu9ORxxOa11bNDSDNgv5BhbDSOt-312MP0WkapJQmlO62Gvdvb6ANA0M/s1600/DSC_0020_1228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAgX9xx2-IBcAfB1AKTa1DZDWa5kkIrvBJ46qzdw6m4XnXgPCKRxT-xYUV5GVehrsJKpvQxYnKn4OuEBNbjOjhgu9ORxxOa11bNDSDNgv5BhbDSOt-312MP0WkapJQmlO62Gvdvb6ANA0M/s320/DSC_0020_1228.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And pears in pomegranate molasses for dessert<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_yyg9VRBowtDIH2AtuUn-RU4JJWw2-FHSMciHijTrP02n6kPDJyp5yfug7afA7wws8qbWqAIu0snl5oFMcSpA-8LmfGhHo0aiBYDXZe5X7m1FERpYAa5HBIj-zeXdM30drDZP_4sbWHPS/s1600/DSC_0028_1227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_yyg9VRBowtDIH2AtuUn-RU4JJWw2-FHSMciHijTrP02n6kPDJyp5yfug7afA7wws8qbWqAIu0snl5oFMcSpA-8LmfGhHo0aiBYDXZe5X7m1FERpYAa5HBIj-zeXdM30drDZP_4sbWHPS/s320/DSC_0028_1227.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
All this bounty, beautiful weather, time to play with the buffs, the love of friends and family, and the blessing of good health--we have much indeed for which we are thankful today.Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-18751061700440232502012-10-22T15:53:00.001-04:002012-10-22T15:55:14.395-04:00An Autumnal AppreciationBurley tobacco is drying in the barns<br />
The corn has been harvested and the stalks turned to silage<br />
A third cut of hay has been baled and still the dark green grass grows<br />
Cascading down every mountain comes a torrent of color<br />
Ruby red sourwoods nestling under the bullion gold of hickories<br />
Plump orange sugar maples punctuating the landscape<br />
Mushrooms of heroic proportions and cartoonish mien<br />
Pop up in the barbed wire DMZ 'twixt field and woods<br />
I come home from foraging feeling like a human chia pet<br />
But covered in weed seeds exceeds noshed on by seed ticks<br />
<br />
The long-range creek view has returned<br />
And the insect repellent goes back to its winter cabinet<br />
Along with the SPF 30 soon made redundant by fleecy layers<br />
Cold beer on the deck at 5 gives way to hot tea by the fire at 4<br />
For that last, brilliant ray of sun which streams through the ridges' gap<br />
Illuminating a single tree at the end of the road<br />
Soon withdraws its warm glow<br />
How fortunate to have caught that fleeting moment<br />
And how powerful the greedy desire for another and another.<br />
<br />
<br />Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-68102345115794589692012-09-21T16:54:00.000-04:002012-09-21T16:54:47.994-04:00Baked Goat Brie with Bourbon Peach Jam and PecansNow that the weather is finally cooling off, it no longer seems unreasonable to consider indulging in cooking something that requires turning on the oven. I've had something in mind ever since my friend Peggy sent me her fabulous Bourbon Peach Jam. Spectacular on its own (yeah, I confess to having eaten some just straight from the jar) and on pancakes, I had a hunch it would also work well with brie.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_EEnXviLRTivUcpXunsMTv-XIwgZglMtfeHIElqahI-dKTN4jl5U3v_Bb9J1miXdTLbr_x00MyVdoYJ6wB7WgAS9HAz0LNXcAFnuSmFlfbHjhCg0kYelH3sIhpXxsRlk5bMbPjLcfMww7/s1600/DSC_0004_1147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_EEnXviLRTivUcpXunsMTv-XIwgZglMtfeHIElqahI-dKTN4jl5U3v_Bb9J1miXdTLbr_x00MyVdoYJ6wB7WgAS9HAz0LNXcAFnuSmFlfbHjhCg0kYelH3sIhpXxsRlk5bMbPjLcfMww7/s320/DSC_0004_1147.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Time and excess mental capacity are in short supply at the moment but this dish is so ridiculously easy that I went for it. I grabbed a round of brie--any brie will do but my go-to brie if I'm going to doctor it up is a small round of goat brie from Trader Joe's--and a sheet of puff pastry. For some reason, there always seems to be an orphan sheet of puff pastry in the freezer. So, short story shorter....plop the brie onto the puff pastry (put some parchment paper in the bottom of a baking dish for easier extraction/clean-up later), cut the pastry down to size, slather on the jam, top with toasted pecans, and fold the ends of the pastry over the top, sealing in all the jammy, cheesy goodness.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqBkgOcsaFZ_bG0RVZpGDuKom_PrbasJUO4h-kPFEFsqiAoVZPY0F2a5Ncu2D1qWxIOC2RIGDmhpkVwNhmlGoSomoB2r8EsAGWxNidyaRUlUdea2p0jH4hJAxTE2RmLqUvf1d_DmQncF0W/s1600/DSC_0068_1159.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqBkgOcsaFZ_bG0RVZpGDuKom_PrbasJUO4h-kPFEFsqiAoVZPY0F2a5Ncu2D1qWxIOC2RIGDmhpkVwNhmlGoSomoB2r8EsAGWxNidyaRUlUdea2p0jH4hJAxTE2RmLqUvf1d_DmQncF0W/s320/DSC_0068_1159.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2tjzPoSxdF1Pnm9Aj6gyIaUuKQukP8MJMWoDy6IKbQQI4M9ENN83tHrO2Mt1OivpYhITkOwMNl7V-sKl_lvjKOC8V9oVjjd7xxaUdUaECwqjnwoq3oM1MPl6Q4HGXyO9XZrdeS5jrqFw6/s1600/DSC_0069_1149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2tjzPoSxdF1Pnm9Aj6gyIaUuKQukP8MJMWoDy6IKbQQI4M9ENN83tHrO2Mt1OivpYhITkOwMNl7V-sKl_lvjKOC8V9oVjjd7xxaUdUaECwqjnwoq3oM1MPl6Q4HGXyO9XZrdeS5jrqFw6/s320/DSC_0069_1149.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYuGvPQNe0KmXjZHyuCA27P1u0VHuHoksA_cqSIwfBf2qAazEa2X5tuQ5K0r55T8VSULuV2TECoM_KRSPmfiLqgBY9m9_4LWHEVb01acjx_wKnrsMpLRq5F94_CExwjSE2E_YGIBjnRoSa/s1600/DSC_0070_1160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYuGvPQNe0KmXjZHyuCA27P1u0VHuHoksA_cqSIwfBf2qAazEa2X5tuQ5K0r55T8VSULuV2TECoM_KRSPmfiLqgBY9m9_4LWHEVb01acjx_wKnrsMpLRq5F94_CExwjSE2E_YGIBjnRoSa/s320/DSC_0070_1160.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYZT8wX8pwVTuW_0A65dd8LEuy4qSuZo-Mh6cCHT7NQcofJG5otJ36E_n4dgnSXJIOKOU-p65-1xvEf3k7810XsTx364APJYvbImNHDNaSeLVofL7gI3bg1fapz9JFhUg3CYWSChkmB0KT/s1600/DSC_0073_1161.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYZT8wX8pwVTuW_0A65dd8LEuy4qSuZo-Mh6cCHT7NQcofJG5otJ36E_n4dgnSXJIOKOU-p65-1xvEf3k7810XsTx364APJYvbImNHDNaSeLVofL7gI3bg1fapz9JFhUg3CYWSChkmB0KT/s320/DSC_0073_1161.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Brush the top with a bit of beaten egg, sprinkle on a bit of brown sugar, and top with more pecans. Stick this in the oven at 350 degrees for 20-30 minutes (longer if using a full-sized round of brie). If you are patient, you will get a nicely browned pastry with super gooey cheese inside. I'm not. I couldn't wait. Still wonderful if not quite as photogenic.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNlp-1W2s-tLxesb27_oeF55NdBhpQwIyRf-gkMzhGFSJTvsh5k1mqR1_OkLzaL9VmdDezK7HLpL8PSbntXcdPzNhKydpM9rynsdXfnjkGLEj5cO7i5YlSnX3iMArCN3IcvhJO8UdDkaRK/s1600/DSC_0076_1165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNlp-1W2s-tLxesb27_oeF55NdBhpQwIyRf-gkMzhGFSJTvsh5k1mqR1_OkLzaL9VmdDezK7HLpL8PSbntXcdPzNhKydpM9rynsdXfnjkGLEj5cO7i5YlSnX3iMArCN3IcvhJO8UdDkaRK/s320/DSC_0076_1165.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcbYuqCM1K3uL5DUa40iqSTXWNaFnsR6zsmpoH7acw45_IOUbjS3wlNzbvWL0kOpyEDMvDhF-zWlhCSgoKynxjMn8IAj27XTAVu-tnAJJ3XL_pKQN33JBU2yWzrDj7vBk5z1IuaOJ0SeYc/s1600/DSC_0077_1151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcbYuqCM1K3uL5DUa40iqSTXWNaFnsR6zsmpoH7acw45_IOUbjS3wlNzbvWL0kOpyEDMvDhF-zWlhCSgoKynxjMn8IAj27XTAVu-tnAJJ3XL_pKQN33JBU2yWzrDj7vBk5z1IuaOJ0SeYc/s320/DSC_0077_1151.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
Grab your crackers and get on it. But be quick if you're sharing this with me. It won't last long. </div>
Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-80696314548389209682012-09-16T18:12:00.000-04:002012-09-16T18:12:03.069-04:00How Quickly It All Becomes NormalDare I say it? It's been very quiet around here. Not just on the blog but on the farm. The calves are now two months old. They are getting big. Filling out. Horns emerging. Tall enough to drink out of the big stock tank. Not as bouncy but still eager to lick a friendly hand, arm, or face. And still complete suckers for a neck or tummy rub. But at the same time, they're looking more like miniature versions of their parents. They move with the herd now. Rarely do I find them off by themselves. They are grazing like old pros but fortunately they continue to nurse as well. The more of that high butterfat milk they get in them before winter the better. And all that rain over the summer has meant really good grazing going in to the autumn months.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwbZBoP9fd_BwddrJhBjO30TYPIsfWpOP2jMlVcVy2ZrBwt4niYvHg4s2YnK1w_xq0TRRUHnzclB9Kd9wjVRqN0hyphenhyphenYD_Qww2kkdrNMukZP7wCviAfwH8ImldXjFsM93dbpL5_tUylvnor/s1600/DSC_0005_1163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwbZBoP9fd_BwddrJhBjO30TYPIsfWpOP2jMlVcVy2ZrBwt4niYvHg4s2YnK1w_xq0TRRUHnzclB9Kd9wjVRqN0hyphenhyphenYD_Qww2kkdrNMukZP7wCviAfwH8ImldXjFsM93dbpL5_tUylvnor/s320/DSC_0005_1163.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The biggest change is how normal it has become to have this herd of five water buffalo milling about. We have our routines. Some days, rare days thankfully, I don't see them at all. While those aren't good days for me, the buffalo seem to do just fine. Each of them seems healthy and, despite their disparate personalities, they are functioning well as a group. I'm surprised how often I find the calves hanging with (and sometimes messing with) Eschol who seems quite chill about them now. Even when Mabel tucks her head under his belly as if to give him grief for not coming equipped with an udder (I mean, c'mon, Dad, there are all these dangly bits--why not some that are useful to me???).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZFz13DU4-uDARKtQnt4TAiqWs_rPG5lTABNcqgJEyy07o88AR1rIwUTxmGcHUitP0a92Yg35ECCEnsHLtEu-dc1Bw_AaICSQnwP-vOxkIlDUVhO9IaSw4JbA2d8Roz1Ulr-AyYOF9r6Ca/s1600/DSC_0039_1164.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZFz13DU4-uDARKtQnt4TAiqWs_rPG5lTABNcqgJEyy07o88AR1rIwUTxmGcHUitP0a92Yg35ECCEnsHLtEu-dc1Bw_AaICSQnwP-vOxkIlDUVhO9IaSw4JbA2d8Roz1Ulr-AyYOF9r6Ca/s320/DSC_0039_1164.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Fall tends to be a fallow time for the blog--not for lack of activity on the farm but for lack of time to write--so let me leave you with some pictures to tide you over 'til the next post.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQqNvowlrG38EeU1epqoHwpctvOpcsVbUmwftBHE76m3UftUFTlle6d5iY6dWsuMAFLDAE9ApfBNyHWRKOFWTRSDtFhmhHt0u9J08lqbKYnNn09IW1usm80rouM993GhDAYBU8xu5xefQ4/s1600/DSC_0023_1152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQqNvowlrG38EeU1epqoHwpctvOpcsVbUmwftBHE76m3UftUFTlle6d5iY6dWsuMAFLDAE9ApfBNyHWRKOFWTRSDtFhmhHt0u9J08lqbKYnNn09IW1usm80rouM993GhDAYBU8xu5xefQ4/s320/DSC_0023_1152.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mabel tasting the black raspberry leaves.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-DzAZZE_jZ9PAmRu5N7c2KU012W3xtDoeQNeg8tyiZMpChQ5z27BQUg0_uQCD13RhPjnE5XOnkuBel1px3oeoOCadJZxVfX6SsMuIBooNsAAIgJHCMaid_O-UxFPcYrH10f2d_PH_DEZH/s1600/DSC_0045_1154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-DzAZZE_jZ9PAmRu5N7c2KU012W3xtDoeQNeg8tyiZMpChQ5z27BQUg0_uQCD13RhPjnE5XOnkuBel1px3oeoOCadJZxVfX6SsMuIBooNsAAIgJHCMaid_O-UxFPcYrH10f2d_PH_DEZH/s320/DSC_0045_1154.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chuck and Mabel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-DRAPn-WjYx-lbHbrqMt1bPHB_dqhnTVBTattTluElu8zYIINRN7ZE7pROj2p73HSZzhGgDn73WQ3MlJDjLGuh2U27mv3muEwMO8x9eRYKfDjOs73flb-PRpdMRkIWvX1cdTsJF5QOQLY/s1600/DSC_0052_1157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-DRAPn-WjYx-lbHbrqMt1bPHB_dqhnTVBTattTluElu8zYIINRN7ZE7pROj2p73HSZzhGgDn73WQ3MlJDjLGuh2U27mv3muEwMO8x9eRYKfDjOs73flb-PRpdMRkIWvX1cdTsJF5QOQLY/s320/DSC_0052_1157.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chuck with Audrey (standing) & Effie</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Dt44SdXTbyPe_jhUjakwXOxonW-8ssx_qv_vHGPkoJpCHMUhGDQvYv4QzETw0Xjccu4K2M77ilkCYcFF-eLt_r5dBhnCWF0dPPE4nvbTntwy8HfMUmPkQQfbsLy1zAEKKqaahFDky3IE/s1600/DSC_0055_1158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Dt44SdXTbyPe_jhUjakwXOxonW-8ssx_qv_vHGPkoJpCHMUhGDQvYv4QzETw0Xjccu4K2M77ilkCYcFF-eLt_r5dBhnCWF0dPPE4nvbTntwy8HfMUmPkQQfbsLy1zAEKKqaahFDky3IE/s320/DSC_0055_1158.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chuck's little horns starting to emerge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLe7NWq_CPWPY2ppIpq8Kcbi2rPapP2b6LFjKyUFfpTeVyJ1PRslgmCPo7_hI5-4nmFtTBKYY6-ceGKDcvdKejhLlpmKcxr0z1-gkx90HRTIYKkLhmyjKxLYbSAYN8tj4ulAy1u0wjXP-R/s1600/DSC_0064_1155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLe7NWq_CPWPY2ppIpq8Kcbi2rPapP2b6LFjKyUFfpTeVyJ1PRslgmCPo7_hI5-4nmFtTBKYY6-ceGKDcvdKejhLlpmKcxr0z1-gkx90HRTIYKkLhmyjKxLYbSAYN8tj4ulAy1u0wjXP-R/s320/DSC_0064_1155.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mabel a.k.a., Miss Muddy Hooves</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFmspGp4IZ3xtXdIZQlcpOQelLAwlJByR2UrLRZrR6M2R39ycBOW4jJRhJ8kpX6qfX8CwFQj8tNRUWe3TlybEyuedqwLA_XgYglf_fizwT_IVrAuDwGnKKV03t9rX02LdT2zaez59U90zV/s1600/DSC_0067_1156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFmspGp4IZ3xtXdIZQlcpOQelLAwlJByR2UrLRZrR6M2R39ycBOW4jJRhJ8kpX6qfX8CwFQj8tNRUWe3TlybEyuedqwLA_XgYglf_fizwT_IVrAuDwGnKKV03t9rX02LdT2zaez59U90zV/s320/DSC_0067_1156.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chuck charging out of the wallow</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-9213612739664243612012-08-15T22:28:00.002-04:002012-08-15T22:28:35.846-04:00Ouch! But so worth it.And now for something completely different: the honey harvest. Back in June, I took off two supers of honey from my one remaining colony. A couple of hard winters and some sketchy nectar flows meant that for several years I had been leaving all honey with the bees to ensure their ability to survive and rebuild their numbers. So, it was wonderful this year to see so much extra honey after the Tulip Poplar flow (the primary nectar flow in this region) that I felt safe harvesting.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPFhMro9DGte7mJcQYgn8IvsUQBYHBNLu5A9HVM67WEYQckbSYMgSZcV7h9XaRNwRbmvxxk-fMp5WVTxxAAzVTvM6FFonNHUVT5qfFKMZpEOlAO3WxMifT6LHajNJT1Relo-xbmchHdKhp/s1600/DSC_0026_798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPFhMro9DGte7mJcQYgn8IvsUQBYHBNLu5A9HVM67WEYQckbSYMgSZcV7h9XaRNwRbmvxxk-fMp5WVTxxAAzVTvM6FFonNHUVT5qfFKMZpEOlAO3WxMifT6LHajNJT1Relo-xbmchHdKhp/s320/DSC_0026_798.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
I felt a lot of other things after harvesting. Mostly sore. No, not from bee stings. The bees aren't happy when I take the honey but I wear the requisite space suit so I don't blow up like a balloon (yes, I'm a little oversensitive to stings) and they don't have to die. Really, the most painful part of this process is getting the supers off of the hive. The honey supers are at the top, really heavy when full of honey, and stuck together with propolis. So, picture trying to pry apart wooden boxes weighing c. 40 pounds, sealed all around with the stickiest, gooiest resin-like substance that re-sticks as soon as the pieces make contact again, and then lifting the boxes from chest height all while angry bees try to find any weakness in your protective gear. Below is a typical shallow super with a wooden bee escape on top.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxedg1k2EKIoTiKbdbOLNfOWy7ZUh6jltgspIGWuphERCbpl7j_UjJI_7GmyfGxf5pnI9uiUnx8Hz3l0Gt66fZIA94yfPu1lJsNanuvX4LgR6MbUgiIEythl5vdG0Mij5sjJL3m9tDVMJA/s1600/DSC_0003_793.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxedg1k2EKIoTiKbdbOLNfOWy7ZUh6jltgspIGWuphERCbpl7j_UjJI_7GmyfGxf5pnI9uiUnx8Hz3l0Gt66fZIA94yfPu1lJsNanuvX4LgR6MbUgiIEythl5vdG0Mij5sjJL3m9tDVMJA/s320/DSC_0003_793.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Mind you, lifting 40 pounds off the ground or from waist height is no problem for me but I never really learned to bench press. I can see now why that might have been useful. Very different endeavor. Add in the twist that I have to do to get the supers in to the cart for transporting back to the house and the scene just begs for a pulled back muscle. Yeah. Ouch. Not smart. Must design a better set-up for next year. But a little pain is a small price to pay for such glorious goodness. The girls had built the comb way out past the edges of the frames and it just looked and smelled so wonderful. After getting the last few bees out of there, I moved the supers inside and in no time the odor of honey and beeswax filled the house.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlT0df8iq1LHLO0Mtepe_-GQZC1g-pN-aZl3KoUUzPVrlXKuwBqx5XnKSMV_-kbLqTFNZEIO2EUps5hsJ_7vR2rVRRS1QZqBqHGdtKn1iHYZPkSX6BFe92qoOJ7w5-f09ean-M0Bq1fUe3/s1600/DSC_0020_795.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlT0df8iq1LHLO0Mtepe_-GQZC1g-pN-aZl3KoUUzPVrlXKuwBqx5XnKSMV_-kbLqTFNZEIO2EUps5hsJ_7vR2rVRRS1QZqBqHGdtKn1iHYZPkSX6BFe92qoOJ7w5-f09ean-M0Bq1fUe3/s320/DSC_0020_795.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
One thing I did right this year was invest in an extractor. I'm now the proud owner of a 9-frame, hand-cranked, radial extractor. This bad boy flings the honey out of the comb with the greatest of ease.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZRjsWCVlErWsaAAONCn8YxEgC2JeA9YDIfS2hS0NO5vagoyVY0PhWR5fuvHZBGNdG31hGFHolcxfa4zu34JfLWW64dF-iTsF9_ShCK0quJ6OMycnhMjFqM5J9bUUyiskz4pBiGlGxImFX/s1600/DSC_0024_941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZRjsWCVlErWsaAAONCn8YxEgC2JeA9YDIfS2hS0NO5vagoyVY0PhWR5fuvHZBGNdG31hGFHolcxfa4zu34JfLWW64dF-iTsF9_ShCK0quJ6OMycnhMjFqM5J9bUUyiskz4pBiGlGxImFX/s320/DSC_0024_941.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Before the spinning, there's uncapping to be done. First, pry the frames apart. Yes, more propolis. Much more propolis. Healthy for the hive. Hell on the beekeeper.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKAc26smNsXwPKjI2hnHXvsIGHOzU_yp2-P5rFboUPYHIBfLx7b9n95wRg8m6k_6c9mqVCXzeTRR1kvWcVpHuIzr2g9cGbqKqE-L71cmGYVb2vU-xXKg5iMLKuFaw-E80Xas68SSY9p2DV/s1600/DSC_0027_942.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKAc26smNsXwPKjI2hnHXvsIGHOzU_yp2-P5rFboUPYHIBfLx7b9n95wRg8m6k_6c9mqVCXzeTRR1kvWcVpHuIzr2g9cGbqKqE-L71cmGYVb2vU-xXKg5iMLKuFaw-E80Xas68SSY9p2DV/s320/DSC_0027_942.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I take each frame and use a hot uncapping knife to gently cut the caps off of both sides of the comb. This handy double tub setup catches the cappings in the top level while letting any stray honey drip through to the lower level for later capture.
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI3fW2M_orzvxefhrAo7oHq5qEZKTuJuviXCNQrDjoIsnzP0Fo7RcAeDXZVspIODtiaaWfy47QI-seLyYIPFBvEPj44RFW8FGVw5BB9JBTrfOeNBRmnCkm2ikKHasNmDIHvXtj7PqMPyuz/s1600/DSC_0020_938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI3fW2M_orzvxefhrAo7oHq5qEZKTuJuviXCNQrDjoIsnzP0Fo7RcAeDXZVspIODtiaaWfy47QI-seLyYIPFBvEPj44RFW8FGVw5BB9JBTrfOeNBRmnCkm2ikKHasNmDIHvXtj7PqMPyuz/s320/DSC_0020_938.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJfDxrzL6BgFjIXYakDlkYQJJ_WUPw07koSFHzpKN6gTJghfDgmLZ3mwtt7B8Ae-zrK_7C1SE44GMc6Un0hTfJo0JFoQuWcABntzYFQ4BmtwyFyLk-slc87bzehi6L1yKQIMxanRKa2FA/s1600/DSC_0031_944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJfDxrzL6BgFjIXYakDlkYQJJ_WUPw07koSFHzpKN6gTJghfDgmLZ3mwtt7B8Ae-zrK_7C1SE44GMc6Un0hTfJo0JFoQuWcABntzYFQ4BmtwyFyLk-slc87bzehi6L1yKQIMxanRKa2FA/s320/DSC_0031_944.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidV2D8pI07VvWIc51P6xKM8mI0QAbh55Q88tVTwYFtSa72bNpEgu26XjMCtyRIi_yRUoxdIFRsxuu82FJV6l7axFDTSPc6i5n6RlMN_N2dpqTZCe7KHe7sR8CrDQWNGnKLVWILCLRY66_7/s1600/DSC_0033_945.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidV2D8pI07VvWIc51P6xKM8mI0QAbh55Q88tVTwYFtSa72bNpEgu26XjMCtyRIi_yRUoxdIFRsxuu82FJV6l7axFDTSPc6i5n6RlMN_N2dpqTZCe7KHe7sR8CrDQWNGnKLVWILCLRY66_7/s320/DSC_0033_945.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_253AlQ7GQYAzzeTJQUqChsHMaQR_Ikr5Pn1IoJJVwmvOkzImnGrC1J8p6M-Y7dsnbagPu3GeFOrNSaWtmAn-ntK4t8U1dw803NC0384XGKnCr9RKOhKnRSN3Mr_DPaZIQqZ6lzkiRI_G/s1600/DSC_0079_956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_253AlQ7GQYAzzeTJQUqChsHMaQR_Ikr5Pn1IoJJVwmvOkzImnGrC1J8p6M-Y7dsnbagPu3GeFOrNSaWtmAn-ntK4t8U1dw803NC0384XGKnCr9RKOhKnRSN3Mr_DPaZIQqZ6lzkiRI_G/s320/DSC_0079_956.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
There's a real art to cutting off the cappings. Too slow and you cook the honey. Too fast and you miss too many cells. Get the angle wrong and you gouge the comb. But not unlike finding the clutch point on a stick shift car, after a few ugly attempts, it becomes second nature. I know I'm not the only beekeeper who plays the can-I-get-the-whole-run-of-cappings-in-one-continuous-sheet game (very much like trying to peel an apple). Nine frames done and we're ready to spin. Well, close the lid, then we're ready.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn9I6PdUk5rUgUq0t0_mxck2Ck7ABXApEMsHUmEwrTQ2TrQauls5bNmSLI4ujRL3QcUSUMY4cpIBZFDuRWUEWbp5_PGBE3sRk2mH_9LZQW14IU7MzYzGj7UIzgFux0MT8YAW0eAJd_z2Dy/s1600/DSC_0038_947.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn9I6PdUk5rUgUq0t0_mxck2Ck7ABXApEMsHUmEwrTQ2TrQauls5bNmSLI4ujRL3QcUSUMY4cpIBZFDuRWUEWbp5_PGBE3sRk2mH_9LZQW14IU7MzYzGj7UIzgFux0MT8YAW0eAJd_z2Dy/s320/DSC_0038_947.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCYCuhvzvE0eLThbTl_O8AU3W8W9xQg4Ty2MRNzFDo-SHX-a6aBxwSictqrF06Kr-vws_pXqH_vSL92m3__E-AEWuV39KI2tBEIn-v0ntjWYJ9vERogTYRhvtj8mbMIuBs15s5Qjr-W9R/s1600/DSC_0042_948.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCYCuhvzvE0eLThbTl_O8AU3W8W9xQg4Ty2MRNzFDo-SHX-a6aBxwSictqrF06Kr-vws_pXqH_vSL92m3__E-AEWuV39KI2tBEIn-v0ntjWYJ9vERogTYRhvtj8mbMIuBs15s5Qjr-W9R/s320/DSC_0042_948.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
In just a few moments, the first drops hit the strainer.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhClt9hs-XC5RP-Ol7M5_BRpMN8qr68_0EBkEVgXaANK7vJE4XyDKOfY0qZh9HyEC-jcZ0gh1SI4000wANu1R2PnQ9hyx02UtABFCUwsRNIiW4OatYOakU7LjvrkQATSnuqJ9IFCg8dvxP3/s1600/DSC_0046_949.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhClt9hs-XC5RP-Ol7M5_BRpMN8qr68_0EBkEVgXaANK7vJE4XyDKOfY0qZh9HyEC-jcZ0gh1SI4000wANu1R2PnQ9hyx02UtABFCUwsRNIiW4OatYOakU7LjvrkQATSnuqJ9IFCg8dvxP3/s320/DSC_0046_949.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtsbXXCxB0_E7djR9MxGrHhnXqwe_yo3H1u3ZDYMscqI_nGchVDXJjFlmjZNdxee0QMm679pgVeAsvoeIa5kbWmSCfuF9aqVticvR1dgmAjAFuWT0YuiZI4ume91eor3tjdn9qNVLnKYjj/s1600/DSC_0048_950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtsbXXCxB0_E7djR9MxGrHhnXqwe_yo3H1u3ZDYMscqI_nGchVDXJjFlmjZNdxee0QMm679pgVeAsvoeIa5kbWmSCfuF9aqVticvR1dgmAjAFuWT0YuiZI4ume91eor3tjdn9qNVLnKYjj/s320/DSC_0048_950.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Soon honey is gushing through the gate.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp5jJElHI7Vv-Ydi93JwrjekhSxt0iT6J1_JZ-ZgiJD_t0v4XGrSpAx1gskWAMxxc3RBn7Sjyqxw8blKrqgAk9OQVYfRFQbr4wSdskmcUqsnU-y_nDKziCa2iNGwxqalOr8NZIS9iiIboh/s1600/DSC_0054_951.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp5jJElHI7Vv-Ydi93JwrjekhSxt0iT6J1_JZ-ZgiJD_t0v4XGrSpAx1gskWAMxxc3RBn7Sjyqxw8blKrqgAk9OQVYfRFQbr4wSdskmcUqsnU-y_nDKziCa2iNGwxqalOr8NZIS9iiIboh/s320/DSC_0054_951.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
After extracting two supers, we bottled 60 pounds of honey from that first harvest. This past weekend, we extracted another super for 27 pounds more. We had hoped the second harvest might be heavy on the Sourwood (our second biggest nectar flow and the most popular honey with the tourists) but judging from the color and taste, I'd say it's much like the first--primarily Tulip Poplar (my favorite) with an assortment of wildflowers. At any rate, we are set for honey for a good long time. Sweet!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9CuN8vjWEM2ikZHj7TbaNXd5cPgGU19M02hIrRRSLPJmSFXrdUeQEfKOWmp5nxPTbnOxB-y49RAV5VR3glTAmuiUOyuHlAd4KUb5ORN_5bZIs11qAtljkSk5n2d0zJwD5nhmEUsDuR9Uh/s1600/DSC_0003_1141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9CuN8vjWEM2ikZHj7TbaNXd5cPgGU19M02hIrRRSLPJmSFXrdUeQEfKOWmp5nxPTbnOxB-y49RAV5VR3glTAmuiUOyuHlAd4KUb5ORN_5bZIs11qAtljkSk5n2d0zJwD5nhmEUsDuR9Uh/s320/DSC_0003_1141.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-88562313861066329232012-08-11T17:36:00.001-04:002012-08-11T17:36:34.616-04:00Best Laid PlansI must learn to be careful what I write. Just as soon as I put fingertips to keyboard and publish a post, the universe conspires to change things up on me again. A week ago Thursday, I told you how Chuck was taking flying runs at his elders but Mabel was not. The next day, she decided to outdo her brother. As with all other things, she puts even more energy and enthusiasm into her latest tricks than does Chuck. While Chuck sneaks up from behind, Mabel is now launching full-frontal assaults. While her vertical lift on approach is impressive, my joy at her athleticism is somewhat tempered by the fact that she is not nearly so easily parried as the boy buff. Trying to defend against both simultaneously has quickly put paid to any notion I had about relaxing in the pasture with these two.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdfSvgazB920ecdQhBUlXZXmqddcKgRhqOhtcX5vW3sNa4jSWOaspSWQOewFYv-91eceyvFb0FfIfny9H1xFoons1T_x9jQFfcUV6D6HTA0zHgWRmIJHR3bHOX085lRU5PH41ZrH-ET1N9/s1600/DSC_0085_1099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdfSvgazB920ecdQhBUlXZXmqddcKgRhqOhtcX5vW3sNa4jSWOaspSWQOewFYv-91eceyvFb0FfIfny9H1xFoons1T_x9jQFfcUV6D6HTA0zHgWRmIJHR3bHOX085lRU5PH41ZrH-ET1N9/s320/DSC_0085_1099.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
And it's not just me. Mabel took to play charging Effie and Eschol on the other side of the electric fence. I don't know if Eschol couldn't take the taunting or if it was the agitation of yet another flash flood Friday afternoon (no lasting damage this time--just lots of black walnut limbs that had to be removed from the electric fences), but I awoke around 5:30am Saturday to the sounds of a very unhappy buffalo.<br />
<br />
Effie was racing back and forth through the fish pond completely beside herself, grunting like crazy. I went over toward the barns to check on the others and Effie followed close behind. A very saggy electric fence tipped me off right away that Eschol had unilaterally decided to reunite the herd. Something about the sound of flood waters really seems to get him going. I assumed he was up in the big barn with Audrey and the calves, so I raced to erect the electric fence behind the big barn that serves as my only protected access when the bull is in residence. Then I had to take down the electric fence that Eschol had jumped to let Effie through before he spotted me. I think Eschol was well-pleased with himself and was thoroughly occupied with re-establishing his position as king of the barn. Me, I wasn't too pleased about all that excitement before breakfast (and more importantly, before coffee).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBtMRddwe_nBjSJxYBJxavgPdTd45_QrmjYnoU6HOqSYdf1grGLu435VfzadtpTcr_Wg0HxyZJQVuOtaZ8q0uMZ4gQBTgqjetwLbj7PG-g1ddrYyO7oJBzFNWtRkVedp1S3AHBLsvXtQmH/s1600/DSC_0034_1088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBtMRddwe_nBjSJxYBJxavgPdTd45_QrmjYnoU6HOqSYdf1grGLu435VfzadtpTcr_Wg0HxyZJQVuOtaZ8q0uMZ4gQBTgqjetwLbj7PG-g1ddrYyO7oJBzFNWtRkVedp1S3AHBLsvXtQmH/s320/DSC_0034_1088.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Well, so much for my idea about hanging out with the calves. And letting Audrey have the good grazing on the Booth to herself. The reunited herd complicates life for me but it also simplifies things (only one water tank, one mineral block, one herd to move....). On the whole, I think they're much happier being back together. There was a day or two of Eschol chasing the calves but they are both fast and sure of hoof these days so they were able to keep ahead of his horns for the most part. I'm glad they had a few weeks to get strong. Eschol didn't let them get much nursing done in that first day of reunion but things have calmed down considerably. He's still trying to mate with Audrey and Effie and that's not great but they know how to resist his advances. It's the barn that suffers when he gets frustrated. And Audrey got a little roughed up by Eschol and Effie as they re-established the pecking order but no lasting damage that I can see.<br />
<br />
On the plus side, the calves are learning to wallow properly. Audrey didn't waste any time once she got access to the big wallow again. I went out one morning to find this adorable scene:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_I-XTtTJq8fFw7QdNSzPGwktDIj6sGKfdQMHo0Up8BJd8w69r1_0p2NEcFCqLA0YBF3vHMIyUfVOyTlC_8uuZlUFKHSlAG8Nm5VLXlUy9WFC88l12VdR8J9ZQn4Df6WuUzxOneIo72tA/s1600/DSC_0030_1085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_I-XTtTJq8fFw7QdNSzPGwktDIj6sGKfdQMHo0Up8BJd8w69r1_0p2NEcFCqLA0YBF3vHMIyUfVOyTlC_8uuZlUFKHSlAG8Nm5VLXlUy9WFC88l12VdR8J9ZQn4Df6WuUzxOneIo72tA/s320/DSC_0030_1085.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Baby's first wallow. Mabel took to it just like she'd been doing it forever. I can't wait 'til she starts submerging her head in the water tank and blowing bubbles like her biological mother, Effie. And no worries about getting stuck in the mud. When she was done she hopped right out from the deepest part of the wallow.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNRgFtOPlIlzp1D4v2c85WWelwMKRzOksIkjFIxozHhxsksV2XGv13Ob6jkysFt8ce6AtM_B1mHgrXvQMDtq2-LzhmVxjdF8Gkd2f_4IibqhbwasOiH-cuqnX9PivUDAws8lrHPns_9XPU/s1600/DSC_0079_1096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNRgFtOPlIlzp1D4v2c85WWelwMKRzOksIkjFIxozHhxsksV2XGv13Ob6jkysFt8ce6AtM_B1mHgrXvQMDtq2-LzhmVxjdF8Gkd2f_4IibqhbwasOiH-cuqnX9PivUDAws8lrHPns_9XPU/s320/DSC_0079_1096.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
She was in a playful mood that day. First, she went over to bug her brother.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRJYlOxMAHkgrwRJqM5CVeheZEzAJ3kFiz2la9ih28ol4-PlgDhIvLVRRbXqm__T451kudysRVbgjo4YZyqyz3UjdfPJ0wvnX4X7jsdjRYtQprVouZHJwM8ytalOJUFu8pINkrx7mtxoZF/s1600/DSC_0081_1097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRJYlOxMAHkgrwRJqM5CVeheZEzAJ3kFiz2la9ih28ol4-PlgDhIvLVRRbXqm__T451kudysRVbgjo4YZyqyz3UjdfPJ0wvnX4X7jsdjRYtQprVouZHJwM8ytalOJUFu8pINkrx7mtxoZF/s320/DSC_0081_1097.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Then she bounded over to check out the lady with the camera.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVXDEwtIwXqfuPnCgj-sj4wO8UkglOBlAdCectt2pmIhIPaTcV11Ze1IqS_OhPATqVWdeEYy0bPzyzG9Jq34BrOAMV-fHRdpDgGu_9cOe4TRMqr4OoF1a-FN0n_JPHB7k1AQlDGm37-h8R/s1600/DSC_0090_1100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVXDEwtIwXqfuPnCgj-sj4wO8UkglOBlAdCectt2pmIhIPaTcV11Ze1IqS_OhPATqVWdeEYy0bPzyzG9Jq34BrOAMV-fHRdpDgGu_9cOe4TRMqr4OoF1a-FN0n_JPHB7k1AQlDGm37-h8R/s320/DSC_0090_1100.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Then she spied Eschol and Effie up the hill. Maybe they'd like to play. First, gotta get mom out of the wallow and collect Chuck.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCIrszWwqdx2a4DyRZrcs38kP4ogXjF7wvsQ9gWQXKPUwPuFoBi0rox_TRgratw3U35n-4Gz8WqLhVXOQJP4rtp2uKGV4zeWdD_-1R67p23AQfmwFcA36fBGe_fEhWouUdd7nWCeB-UIdD/s1600/DSC_0107_1107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCIrszWwqdx2a4DyRZrcs38kP4ogXjF7wvsQ9gWQXKPUwPuFoBi0rox_TRgratw3U35n-4Gz8WqLhVXOQJP4rtp2uKGV4zeWdD_-1R67p23AQfmwFcA36fBGe_fEhWouUdd7nWCeB-UIdD/s320/DSC_0107_1107.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Chuck was way ahead of her. He bounded up the hill and nosed Effie, then made a run at Eschol. But as soon as Eschol started to run at him, he made a big course correction and ran up into the barn. Could Chuck be chicken? Just a good survival instinct, I think.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsSEVH8tOVfnvGMDut7GNRn0qeW1h7IG-6puo_RfW7pq0dO00ukNodVMi-6x7_LFakFfXZEcHAhPCYmM2_Ux_dKiY9NojE6WHV9qjeRqJHJb14GfEeSv17mbmimpJ_5VqNZJxCFzKXrVZ/s1600/DSC_0102_1104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsSEVH8tOVfnvGMDut7GNRn0qeW1h7IG-6puo_RfW7pq0dO00ukNodVMi-6x7_LFakFfXZEcHAhPCYmM2_Ux_dKiY9NojE6WHV9qjeRqJHJb14GfEeSv17mbmimpJ_5VqNZJxCFzKXrVZ/s320/DSC_0102_1104.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5YdCdnS92OlfKVi7-RWevx_zdyHCpAG9oTe5NSaIUkb8S1ckUZKHYh13ktxXzSuSpTgQuoKuyNusQ5oMHnBtxya3BLAW5dM8oF7nbktvguKqBC4CVUx_fyDvFD7HgL-2nwaOCOaL9wIpn/s1600/DSC_0103_1105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5YdCdnS92OlfKVi7-RWevx_zdyHCpAG9oTe5NSaIUkb8S1ckUZKHYh13ktxXzSuSpTgQuoKuyNusQ5oMHnBtxya3BLAW5dM8oF7nbktvguKqBC4CVUx_fyDvFD7HgL-2nwaOCOaL9wIpn/s320/DSC_0103_1105.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHDKAJhCYcFqt-zyr6CBQwl1rNFsSXoJX2PYDvaSlzr5uRANWmaMsepniyGnqM4zlsoOdaeHWtlmqCgXCDTVquN5IAf2eKT_7Zsr6ggk2QG8HPht2LH1cKm-9g9m2CJobOoE5ju8W8DRWW/s1600/DSC_0105_1106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHDKAJhCYcFqt-zyr6CBQwl1rNFsSXoJX2PYDvaSlzr5uRANWmaMsepniyGnqM4zlsoOdaeHWtlmqCgXCDTVquN5IAf2eKT_7Zsr6ggk2QG8HPht2LH1cKm-9g9m2CJobOoE5ju8W8DRWW/s320/DSC_0105_1106.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Meanwhile, Mabel made her way up the hill with Audrey. Effie met them halfway and I watched to see if she would show any interest in her calf after all this time.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgByn5_T9mJO1o-KziUNx2l5tenP4wcZhWkDGyh7jwTWvRh3TO2bFWDZ-9ECiOAS9ch2Onh-DiOjMNULdBrVLtehmcEi-W6pXjwaDxaNhoahusngveQTk7xCWZtZ33pT7LF5IqKPccD8bso/s1600/DSC_0117_1109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgByn5_T9mJO1o-KziUNx2l5tenP4wcZhWkDGyh7jwTWvRh3TO2bFWDZ-9ECiOAS9ch2Onh-DiOjMNULdBrVLtehmcEi-W6pXjwaDxaNhoahusngveQTk7xCWZtZ33pT7LF5IqKPccD8bso/s320/DSC_0117_1109.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Nope. Only a little annoyance. Mabel ducked behind Audrey to avoid Miss Shaky Horns then they all proceeded toward the wet-weather creek. Mabel gave it another try, approaching Effie from behind but Effie just walked off so Mabel bounded back to Audrey. I'm not sure if Mabel knows that Effie is her birth mom or if it matters to her. She may just be checking her out the new big creature in her life. I've since seen her do the same with Eschol, fearless little girl that she is.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWiCuC0Vs-BLxxs9yCHFNokhCccICemq4V_s1QOmj47-xenca1jUaV0Uy69OFJXqEMqcX9kWAIVHw9AKI3H_-tLa1Jqm2M-YJBCA28MbmoZome8J8RDbO99_aHNJTR5vjaMuHtV66QWSP3/s1600/DSC_0119_1110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWiCuC0Vs-BLxxs9yCHFNokhCccICemq4V_s1QOmj47-xenca1jUaV0Uy69OFJXqEMqcX9kWAIVHw9AKI3H_-tLa1Jqm2M-YJBCA28MbmoZome8J8RDbO99_aHNJTR5vjaMuHtV66QWSP3/s320/DSC_0119_1110.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzVZvofUc7tSVitliCXcLTWSCKNWAq0SCIdjKnQ7RnMOUPrFqYjJ73nMWvj0tQFrvG4BT-siGfn_OuWVmk3DbxXZ_JTQFmoCuJUMX2anWxqDXSGnCdxyP0GgxPtYPW1Pp9QsDMBw2eD47K/s1600/DSC_0126_1112.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzVZvofUc7tSVitliCXcLTWSCKNWAq0SCIdjKnQ7RnMOUPrFqYjJ73nMWvj0tQFrvG4BT-siGfn_OuWVmk3DbxXZ_JTQFmoCuJUMX2anWxqDXSGnCdxyP0GgxPtYPW1Pp9QsDMBw2eD47K/s320/DSC_0126_1112.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5YBXRDMRBeVfs5H6jhWgEK9md-cbMxYaG6kz0eRNUx0WloJvV_4bnNSIOEutGIJoNaJFZww1fGjAVkoRDRpGIMiu2iJPth6vBYl46LG642LeSnDIxbWKnHP2MzT312-3TVnIgZUDQ3Nna/s1600/DSC_0127_1113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5YBXRDMRBeVfs5H6jhWgEK9md-cbMxYaG6kz0eRNUx0WloJvV_4bnNSIOEutGIJoNaJFZww1fGjAVkoRDRpGIMiu2iJPth6vBYl46LG642LeSnDIxbWKnHP2MzT312-3TVnIgZUDQ3Nna/s320/DSC_0127_1113.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeKcv6kRW-ikv82KBphDBVsLhOvtwKB2UUf5HoGyJh-_IDU8OoKR7RTP2CEmdsbaXyLCnENg_psrIafBQ7H0bBjlwh_UzAZDKllNxjHeNsv_CIl8RFAhVHvewHHg29e8ns6j7jzMOgprfG/s1600/DSC_0128_1114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeKcv6kRW-ikv82KBphDBVsLhOvtwKB2UUf5HoGyJh-_IDU8OoKR7RTP2CEmdsbaXyLCnENg_psrIafBQ7H0bBjlwh_UzAZDKllNxjHeNsv_CIl8RFAhVHvewHHg29e8ns6j7jzMOgprfG/s320/DSC_0128_1114.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCcYzG5LHTjgTLo-dgWCy_lp_r2A5S12g1nUL5cwPFec1s707Y2eBpyxnB1ETqd5hjO1MSMKkBPQKThMzi3LoqeKt2lAqGYVnrYrJr-2K3Vfb3anDNp54l5dkMUyCQIA5p65O85qlU-YVu/s1600/DSC_0129_1115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCcYzG5LHTjgTLo-dgWCy_lp_r2A5S12g1nUL5cwPFec1s707Y2eBpyxnB1ETqd5hjO1MSMKkBPQKThMzi3LoqeKt2lAqGYVnrYrJr-2K3Vfb3anDNp54l5dkMUyCQIA5p65O85qlU-YVu/s320/DSC_0129_1115.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The rains have continued here, nearly every day. The barn is horribly soggy but the wallow is full. Good thing, too, because it's getting a lot of use now.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-HO-v5Ec2BE9umDx1UQizCKsCQmJn-HyAYdS0Oz8HtsDzuS8vZNyF8XgPhf3LEKXjFyWsWNLQ3Sk6tzLSbO5WMyYHfD9mb4Q7OQC_EsSqQiRB3GgkLCM99_2cDThRHeWsaxczGf-XUZT/s1600/DSC_0007_1119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-HO-v5Ec2BE9umDx1UQizCKsCQmJn-HyAYdS0Oz8HtsDzuS8vZNyF8XgPhf3LEKXjFyWsWNLQ3Sk6tzLSbO5WMyYHfD9mb4Q7OQC_EsSqQiRB3GgkLCM99_2cDThRHeWsaxczGf-XUZT/s320/DSC_0007_1119.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And that, my friends, is this week in buffalo.Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-90560174006189322082012-08-06T12:24:00.000-04:002012-08-06T12:24:14.396-04:00Effie Does Not Care for TurkeyA few days ago, I crossed Effie and Eschol into the lower pasture for their evening graze. As I turned my attention to preparing my own repast, I looked out the window to see Eschol maxing and relaxing. Effie, true to form, was most definitely not relaxed. She was staring intently toward the corner of the field nearest the house.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjiNPAD-7Z983j2kzMiELOiLUGs8NZov9Va4R68aYjpfOXB0B8aodg6_zT0-9DcGs6MMdYd8DNNvDUhJjYYndOh_SUG3YKoH6hyphenhyphenR22ZsIiJszmif09_05aLlh-KC9pivnDk95GNfzecwah/s1600/DSC_0001_1063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjiNPAD-7Z983j2kzMiELOiLUGs8NZov9Va4R68aYjpfOXB0B8aodg6_zT0-9DcGs6MMdYd8DNNvDUhJjYYndOh_SUG3YKoH6hyphenhyphenR22ZsIiJszmif09_05aLlh-KC9pivnDk95GNfzecwah/s320/DSC_0001_1063.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The walnut tree obscures the intensity of her gaze but take my word for it--she was not happy. The objects of her attention? A flock of wild turkeys. Sensing that they were unwelcome, the flock of about a dozen hens and juvenile turkeys tried to stick close to the fence. But then Effie charged. The flock split with half heading for the driveway and the other half hugging the edge of the creek. Strangely, they all stayed within the pasture rather than ducking under the wire. Effie seemed pleased to have shooed them away and she bounded back towards Eschol, reveling in her victory.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAPhfpp9unxGTU58V7v0aC9mnh6FRISPfsSWy-UQckExFIkDxCgfJgKl_w7MjNqM5IjWyWMB1OVDjN6xmm_FmgEs9EARqaqbe6P-Vc2xh3SR8qYjRDuWfa4KM8cbNmgeGgANsNM5U4Wrg/s1600/DSC_0002_1064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAPhfpp9unxGTU58V7v0aC9mnh6FRISPfsSWy-UQckExFIkDxCgfJgKl_w7MjNqM5IjWyWMB1OVDjN6xmm_FmgEs9EARqaqbe6P-Vc2xh3SR8qYjRDuWfa4KM8cbNmgeGgANsNM5U4Wrg/s320/DSC_0002_1064.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Victory, as we well know, is often short lived. The split flock tried to reunite on the far side of the pasture.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7HyNubEJW-sA5f_IPOjWRJ-e3xIfadgpo3A7n2y3mT9k8ZoQ1PV_ZWbvQYc2UcphICnDbkEPjx742qn9v1kGO1qXyKTtl2HJCx4fntKE5JE1upmIsf0fEJ3bKwC0mZZ9i6_0yOB3-jXwp/s1600/DSC_0003_1065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7HyNubEJW-sA5f_IPOjWRJ-e3xIfadgpo3A7n2y3mT9k8ZoQ1PV_ZWbvQYc2UcphICnDbkEPjx742qn9v1kGO1qXyKTtl2HJCx4fntKE5JE1upmIsf0fEJ3bKwC0mZZ9i6_0yOB3-jXwp/s320/DSC_0003_1065.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: start;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: start;">Not on Effie's watch, oh no. And this time she brought reinforcements.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: start;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYkrnvKtmHzgMlcWrFtC6f9bJZJ_LMaEYHvaO2FC38H_ZiePQMcQZhPRfC42s-CILq6eDGgN8pGPc0RCHPf1AuXQLB3mi-oKi6JnzRKUJsIez59fOFjeGEOuUPw9AOMgf1THbR7IG7vYgO/s1600/DSC_0004_1066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYkrnvKtmHzgMlcWrFtC6f9bJZJ_LMaEYHvaO2FC38H_ZiePQMcQZhPRfC42s-CILq6eDGgN8pGPc0RCHPf1AuXQLB3mi-oKi6JnzRKUJsIez59fOFjeGEOuUPw9AOMgf1THbR7IG7vYgO/s320/DSC_0004_1066.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: start;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeKu9cHmQbO_6KMKHp75ND2AYbo5rFbz6siEe-tLIS2xYBR8kT1hG8mK7e4YZx3uqsoDrUCF7bv39YdeXbX0kWkieRDFfdih-lWVsZ0ihUv0adAbaZ9ZTo7OUcV_eonTpwBaF_hIMQR6Ah/s1600/DSC_0005_1067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeKu9cHmQbO_6KMKHp75ND2AYbo5rFbz6siEe-tLIS2xYBR8kT1hG8mK7e4YZx3uqsoDrUCF7bv39YdeXbX0kWkieRDFfdih-lWVsZ0ihUv0adAbaZ9ZTo7OUcV_eonTpwBaF_hIMQR6Ah/s320/DSC_0005_1067.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Two 1500-pound buffalo charging at full speed was enough to convince at least a few of the turkeys that trying to make a graceful exit was not in their best interest.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHj7H53fv0Yq31aF0OqdYsXFoa8N37c0FMTGsLGEWUO2QjitfdfFQ5fWbuXchQIsyQuvtOT23_5jdpkhNyWI0DxZ5QgenhTHFvt__spQKFfP71WlFMZRVkZJFlqXxFxRlLHXqIDiNBAaj/s1600/DSC_0006_1068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHj7H53fv0Yq31aF0OqdYsXFoa8N37c0FMTGsLGEWUO2QjitfdfFQ5fWbuXchQIsyQuvtOT23_5jdpkhNyWI0DxZ5QgenhTHFvt__spQKFfP71WlFMZRVkZJFlqXxFxRlLHXqIDiNBAaj/s320/DSC_0006_1068.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Much flapping, squawking, and ungainly flight ensued as the laggard turkeys tried to save themselves by making a break for the low branches of the nearest black walnut tree.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjm7HeeIBWuMxLEl_gaosQkobC4xGiS6TUIvfUXbcx-zA85funJf1bremx7oyr286o-d7P6kmuOwXVteyZ0Y3yDAfZBqv_-shuWiv0yjxnW6ikcBLMtYxHpsp7jDoDOw7AMIVq-zAQbuqT/s1600/DSC_0008_1069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjm7HeeIBWuMxLEl_gaosQkobC4xGiS6TUIvfUXbcx-zA85funJf1bremx7oyr286o-d7P6kmuOwXVteyZ0Y3yDAfZBqv_-shuWiv0yjxnW6ikcBLMtYxHpsp7jDoDOw7AMIVq-zAQbuqT/s320/DSC_0008_1069.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Effie did her best to stare them out of their perch but they stayed put while the remainder of the flock snuck out of the pasture. Eventually, Effie lost interest as flight is not nearly as entertaining as fight.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
I do not know why Effie does not care for turkey. Certainly, she has chased all manner of critters out of her territory in the past. But the turkeys are frequent visitors here and I can't recall her ever giving chase before. Was it something they said? Maybe they kept her up at night with their incessant gobbling. That would make me cranky, too.Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-34715096282328677772012-08-02T12:57:00.000-04:002012-08-02T12:57:04.274-04:00They Grow Up So FastThree weeks. It seems impossible that it's been three weeks since the baby buffs were born. It seems equally impossible that there was a time when Chuck and Mabel weren't a part of the daily routine around here. Not just a part--without question the best part.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHhoUKWXDroiz5gYAIaizVkDS2PwgX_NALavfeGUnq9cgU3vuwQVEB-my-ZuBcbC-gAa5auHouWrFVZB0DjyNySzw9tduOGvczTgw8u2e7e-94PfKSxD_agZoV4e5Tr1bIIJcnDLwKpa73/s1600/DSC_0012_1036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHhoUKWXDroiz5gYAIaizVkDS2PwgX_NALavfeGUnq9cgU3vuwQVEB-my-ZuBcbC-gAa5auHouWrFVZB0DjyNySzw9tduOGvczTgw8u2e7e-94PfKSxD_agZoV4e5Tr1bIIJcnDLwKpa73/s320/DSC_0012_1036.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
And so much is changing already. It's rare now for me to find the calves lying down; they're almost always up and exploring or playing. Should I happen upon them at rest time, they quickly jump--not to attention but for attention. (above and below: Chuck left, Mabel right)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPeK-Yyg1PBLrn1KPuL6Kld6Lq0GwjCETAOpTotHG9h4F9VCl7iYnHjOxkWuMpeZ5-MJzwObXiYNXCZI7Hx60-BF2z_-MxUI-T6Ade9BOy_GH3CTLJpHScKBCHl34RCCJeaPUWduSlMykg/s1600/DSC_0020_1041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPeK-Yyg1PBLrn1KPuL6Kld6Lq0GwjCETAOpTotHG9h4F9VCl7iYnHjOxkWuMpeZ5-MJzwObXiYNXCZI7Hx60-BF2z_-MxUI-T6Ade9BOy_GH3CTLJpHScKBCHl34RCCJeaPUWduSlMykg/s320/DSC_0020_1041.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Chuck found his land legs. Once he got the hang of running, he seemed to transfer the muscle memory from that experience over to the complexities of walking. His gait no longer looks awkward or unsure. In fact, he seems to have quickly made the leap over to cocksure. Shortly after he discovered the fun of bashing into his sister, he started taking running aim at the back of my knees as I went about cleaning out the barn. Fortunately, he's not nearly as sneaky in his approach as he thinks, so I've managed to keep his not insignificant skull from making more than the lightest contact with my most fragile joints.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8nmW9Tn29VYALuTjFcs2qNpMFrdha_BlAFDC-sGF9WWbNT-I8CUEX7mW8hvxxb3shoP-_-6CTHG1sbmHzY-pEDdKHoZ5frz98t3EDtCBCbCvgrwIApWXchSZUf_H8_hJ8yWkbUkR63QQe/s1600/DSC_0039_1045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8nmW9Tn29VYALuTjFcs2qNpMFrdha_BlAFDC-sGF9WWbNT-I8CUEX7mW8hvxxb3shoP-_-6CTHG1sbmHzY-pEDdKHoZ5frz98t3EDtCBCbCvgrwIApWXchSZUf_H8_hJ8yWkbUkR63QQe/s320/DSC_0039_1045.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
More amusing to me is when he spies Eschol on the other side of the electric fence and pretends to charge him. Dad just stands his ground and looks at the little whippersnapper as if to say, "just try that without an electric fence between us, son, and we'll see who the real bull is."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1r0e4i1co3LPZ8XzqI_XsxmxdhR5WGotXxhJIZue3tBJyQ_bKDn9GTxFR4kEzNsYQ8GQRQGzy42BC86necfy7jNlnpXBYOBmXaOm0Z1rVSXlVeLBfHcgPjUhIJHNjDLbPaW1C78xE-4rE/s1600/DSC_0023_1072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1r0e4i1co3LPZ8XzqI_XsxmxdhR5WGotXxhJIZue3tBJyQ_bKDn9GTxFR4kEzNsYQ8GQRQGzy42BC86necfy7jNlnpXBYOBmXaOm0Z1rVSXlVeLBfHcgPjUhIJHNjDLbPaW1C78xE-4rE/s320/DSC_0023_1072.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Mabel holds her own well against her brother. Yesterday, I watched as he tried to push her by pressing his head into her chest as hard as he could. She would not be moved. When she wearied of the game, she simply used his head as a lever to launch herself on top of him. Game over. I suspect that will not be his last humiliation at her hooves.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrB9mwBTdI7TdBona89FenbFnB-Obd-DsZxzcv5QrJBuhs-8wBfnujCLaLDywMRBXAMKXuxrXklxRaXhkCC0tFwgb0hBtti3zXxFyoG-soQrPwAQMq4GQFDBnJqGglEapTHv2aSyolTbt/s1600/DSC_0051_1049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrB9mwBTdI7TdBona89FenbFnB-Obd-DsZxzcv5QrJBuhs-8wBfnujCLaLDywMRBXAMKXuxrXklxRaXhkCC0tFwgb0hBtti3zXxFyoG-soQrPwAQMq4GQFDBnJqGglEapTHv2aSyolTbt/s320/DSC_0051_1049.JPG" width="320" /></a>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Mabel has shown her own mischievous side. Not towards me. Or even Chuck as far as I've seen. No, she likes to let her playful side come out with Audrey. One steamy afternoon (is there any other kind anymore?), Audrey wanted to roll around in the mud in front of the barn to get a little extra help cooling down. That pink belly is a sure sign that she needs some wallow time.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSj5WIDoDFnwQ20G6mmc-kJWwK34HjVoRtoeRnMnKJDRDD9lKEAHL3mbCiUTmWsFE_MlvuccVbXv1aoberIgLMuQU4nDNAMZT81_m7Zfmr9x4pIeuqdgLgTX9ENe3L3KLtMDi_0t1L-7vP/s1600/DSC_0095_1060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSj5WIDoDFnwQ20G6mmc-kJWwK34HjVoRtoeRnMnKJDRDD9lKEAHL3mbCiUTmWsFE_MlvuccVbXv1aoberIgLMuQU4nDNAMZT81_m7Zfmr9x4pIeuqdgLgTX9ENe3L3KLtMDi_0t1L-7vP/s320/DSC_0095_1060.JPG" width="320" /></a>
<br />
<br />
Mabel thought this was an invitation to play hop on mom.
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7n3VOUQ2jY9_VP22Ryei4KJOFLgjUM3WK2ctHrgEMcxQeS4T4GtjQSBVgwxq2WgNX5OY669Oc8TvD6fxWmHh4v8qbOuNJSYoJjFSjCHHzjjxF8eR8SlL9LSQS1pFjbKiJ7idbz6x_oz-_/s1600/DSC_0090_1059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7n3VOUQ2jY9_VP22Ryei4KJOFLgjUM3WK2ctHrgEMcxQeS4T4GtjQSBVgwxq2WgNX5OY669Oc8TvD6fxWmHh4v8qbOuNJSYoJjFSjCHHzjjxF8eR8SlL9LSQS1pFjbKiJ7idbz6x_oz-_/s320/DSC_0090_1059.JPG" width="320" /></a>
<br />
<br />
Mom never gets a moment to herself.
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj45lZpjO8rrETQv4jBu0gRJg4gTiyDjrzMGQPzCG3Vo_ykLNThcwpM7MInLrJf9uKnRumaVYHHpgpv2PVjwb6yjhlylPYcUczpB4jHME9-F2geJpPM8IHeatdrMnfA-l5Zpm0arHXiqv5W/s1600/DSC_0077_1054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj45lZpjO8rrETQv4jBu0gRJg4gTiyDjrzMGQPzCG3Vo_ykLNThcwpM7MInLrJf9uKnRumaVYHHpgpv2PVjwb6yjhlylPYcUczpB4jHME9-F2geJpPM8IHeatdrMnfA-l5Zpm0arHXiqv5W/s320/DSC_0077_1054.JPG" width="320" /></a>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
I noticed today that Chuck's horns are already starting to grow. Those little horn buds that were largely hidden by his Elvis hair are starting to get rounder and taller. I'm not looking forward to the day when his horns are long and pointy. So, instead, I'll focus on how good it is to finally feel him filling out a bit--not just skin on those ribs anymore. Both the calves seem taller and more fully-fleshed. Audrey is doing a stellar job keeping these little guys fed. It helps that water buffalo milk has really high butterfat content so the babies put on weight quickly.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFvjT88dUwFnjslI6_4aJYyNHJ9dsg7-1_gmuhV_LH4C-NZeKkokw6Gc4rZuPqVDULbS6nAa0BnwIs2zQnCdu__uLQiYdGCjhXRLbm_W_0P8S_ni7zQlNb7uf0sAzzmEaBPmn1bcvQX31w/s1600/DSC_0057_1050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFvjT88dUwFnjslI6_4aJYyNHJ9dsg7-1_gmuhV_LH4C-NZeKkokw6Gc4rZuPqVDULbS6nAa0BnwIs2zQnCdu__uLQiYdGCjhXRLbm_W_0P8S_ni7zQlNb7uf0sAzzmEaBPmn1bcvQX31w/s320/DSC_0057_1050.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
What really surprised me was how quickly the calves started to make their first forays into the world of solid food. They were barely a week old when I saw Mabel start to imitate Audrey, grasping a blade of grass with her tongue and shearing it off between her teeth and dental pad. A few days later, I found Chuck nibbling on some old straw in the barn. I don't think either of them is really eating solid food to get nutrition at this point; probably just learning the technique for future reference. But they both regularly drink out of the water tank, proving that they can already take care of their own hydration needs should the milk go away abruptly. Audrey has good incentive to keep the milk flowing, however, as she is getting special feed to keep her strength up. Normally, we keep the buffalo on grass or hay with no grain but lactation is a major energy hog and providing for two calves could seriously sap her reserves, so Audrey gets the royal treatment foodwise (plus lots of extra attention and her own barn for being such a champ).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvd3blEVLsfATFZnsXk6MqrBF3xLR38Dycsxv073ttwgWB28dAhfs7ipbDSlHCypXOfQmsfCDkJYaYkx-0x0sJfTMLV3JEhFzAxgKAPgK4EviGOpLhB8cNQDEt5UhnotiTIjl-b8Re2loF/s1600/DSC_0027_1043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvd3blEVLsfATFZnsXk6MqrBF3xLR38Dycsxv073ttwgWB28dAhfs7ipbDSlHCypXOfQmsfCDkJYaYkx-0x0sJfTMLV3JEhFzAxgKAPgK4EviGOpLhB8cNQDEt5UhnotiTIjl-b8Re2loF/s320/DSC_0027_1043.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
They haven't started wallowing yet. Audrey seems to be keeping them out of the deep mud. On the rare occasion that she lets them hang with her when she wallows, she keeps them in front of her in the shallowest, firmest part of the wet-weather creek. They get to lie in maybe a half an inch of water but no rolling around in the mud. While that makes them much more pleasant to touch it also means they are attracting a lot of unwanted attention from the ticks. More often than not, Audrey tucks the calves in the barn or some other shady spot before she goes for her mud bath. They get their spa treatment later when I give them nice massages to distract them from the fact that I'm pulling ticks off of them.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDS-30R2ljkWtEDfYtga8XSkS2nKZ3AF5kW2Os3NxOOg4xVeamyunTl9sjJ8a4Oei3iH-XV1jQTXQ38s8PpXCAJyQvhNUhY1kQULDQXfBUA1g-Oto6S-T7w7fLI9EDRnhipE6XjABu7ZS/s1600/DSC_0030_1027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDS-30R2ljkWtEDfYtga8XSkS2nKZ3AF5kW2Os3NxOOg4xVeamyunTl9sjJ8a4Oei3iH-XV1jQTXQ38s8PpXCAJyQvhNUhY1kQULDQXfBUA1g-Oto6S-T7w7fLI9EDRnhipE6XjABu7ZS/s320/DSC_0030_1027.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc_L1PgRCF9OB99dhBGn3djLSh0vWHwuX_d6YQ50mS6we-M2k4gRbzpXbfAYiGmyjuposDkN_cO21x8Nk29DY4jpqrVIwxAspLA8pEoWx1FyvILO-P3v-6Uqzq6KDKq2pZzWE6LqBfW_y_/s1600/DSC_0043_1047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc_L1PgRCF9OB99dhBGn3djLSh0vWHwuX_d6YQ50mS6we-M2k4gRbzpXbfAYiGmyjuposDkN_cO21x8Nk29DY4jpqrVIwxAspLA8pEoWx1FyvILO-P3v-6Uqzq6KDKq2pZzWE6LqBfW_y_/s320/DSC_0043_1047.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I don't feel like these photos are doing full justice to the calves. For instance, I don't think I've managed to capture the little white switch each one has at the end of the tail. Audrey has a nice golden switch and I suspect that as the calves grow up, the deer-like white tip of their tails will become more blond. Well, I guess you'll just have to come visit and see for yourself. You won't be disappointed. These little guys have charmed everyone who's come by so far, from city slickers to seasoned farmers.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKF95ZHjQTF54GNcYIxFBirVZ9uZCOFDhI_0nGnLbJ5aDq8wV8M5O7qsxhKil59DAko1RWnIMLVXmldXkO1LLU7WZpnwcD8WBWht8fXXJ6htXj3fNn1oEhnBwXbFt8HNTL7CaGm0SWxgWC/s1600/DSC_0024_1076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKF95ZHjQTF54GNcYIxFBirVZ9uZCOFDhI_0nGnLbJ5aDq8wV8M5O7qsxhKil59DAko1RWnIMLVXmldXkO1LLU7WZpnwcD8WBWht8fXXJ6htXj3fNn1oEhnBwXbFt8HNTL7CaGm0SWxgWC/s320/DSC_0024_1076.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Typically, summer is a season of low maintenance and low contact with the buffs. No feeding, no mucking out barns, and just a bit of attention to the water supply is all that's required. Not this summer. But that's ok. Over the weekend, I got the temporary fence put up across the creek so Audrey and the calves can go grazing on the Booth where the forage is plentiful. Effie and Eschol are getting twice-daily excursions into the newly-reinforced lower pasture--more about them in the next post--so everyone is well-fed and seems to be content to stay within the confines of their respective fences. We're all settling in to our new routines.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoeidLJ8AfO3m6p0vYVAN7wP_wCZrqfuWDlEryzokIboIT2uJ2ooTm8qm-e50bi4QMhW7-19vHxJMSAA7MpNAqr0wbREYF6R-Eokme0P82s-UhEp64dAhqogFG-wr3yeaxJXF0uXBhUhGa/s1600/DSC_0013_1074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoeidLJ8AfO3m6p0vYVAN7wP_wCZrqfuWDlEryzokIboIT2uJ2ooTm8qm-e50bi4QMhW7-19vHxJMSAA7MpNAqr0wbREYF6R-Eokme0P82s-UhEp64dAhqogFG-wr3yeaxJXF0uXBhUhGa/s320/DSC_0013_1074.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Note to self: go sit in the field with Chuck and Mabel before they get too big. With Eschol in exile, I am rediscovering the joy of spending time in close contact with the buffalo. When we first got our trio a little over two years ago, I loved hanging out in the pasture with them. It wasn't at all unusual to sit down in the field and have a buffalo come over and lie down next to me and put her head in my lap. That gets trickier as they get older, (and downright stupid with an adult bull), so I need to go make the most of the time I've got before they get big and hormonal. You should, too. Do come visit before they get all grown up.Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-87945616101515900382012-07-16T23:55:00.002-04:002012-07-17T07:24:03.313-04:00Chuck and MabelSo, here we are, several days in and things have calmed down considerably. Audrey's eye cleared up the day after she calved. Eschol and Effie have quieted down now that they're together again. No more jail breaks. Chuck's leg is looking straighter--as much as one that is so naturally knobbly kneed can possibly look--and he and Mabel are both nursing well. The one unfortunate thing is that we never were able to convince Effie to take an interest in her calf. She fought us hard on this one, complete with bluff charging us when we tried to move her into the pasture near the barn where her calf is residing. In the meantime, her udder is getting very flabby. Maybe it never was that full but it sure isn't in good form for providing milk to anyone now.<br />
<br />
Audrey, however, is turning out to be a champ at mothering. She is letting both calves nurse and treats them as if they were both her own. <span style="background-color: white;">If they aren't where she wants them to be, she can move them with just a look or a gentle grunt and boy do they ever respond. </span><span style="background-color: white;"> She has taught them how to stay hidden when she goes out to graze and she has both visual and vocal control over them. Several times now, I've gone out to check on them and thought I'd lost a calf. There's not much grass in their pasture (had just taken the herd off of it recently to let it regrow) so it's pretty easy to scan and see everything. Or so I thought. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkUvSAszNx_RK5EmpJlxPIRLUF2wKZ7y6t78QTHyLZbff-r-xQHD2Br79RZWJWrmMivMn-tmwZcjooLG8EKGxUVJAcnGdF3V813-f5cnSvGuY5UDN0yWAbHNbQ8TrIr176_UQ_Akz7nph/s1600/DSC_0060_1005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkUvSAszNx_RK5EmpJlxPIRLUF2wKZ7y6t78QTHyLZbff-r-xQHD2Br79RZWJWrmMivMn-tmwZcjooLG8EKGxUVJAcnGdF3V813-f5cnSvGuY5UDN0yWAbHNbQ8TrIr176_UQ_Akz7nph/s320/DSC_0060_1005.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="background-color: white;">See the buffalo? I didn't. That's Chuck in the weeds down by the culvert that runs under the driveway. It wasn't until Audrey and Mabel came out to see why I was wandering around that I figured it out. They made it easy by pointing to him with their gaze. Silly human. They're so easy to fool.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtfrvsbux5gRhxzwMPADdmzx51GWv78hnGlPTEesiVmBqVEAgGpsDBkfjISQEBo1_y8I1TQ-ygBynRx-MBrKQjyky0s6DA-k3f-SEf-Ssw0362l2xPDlhxC-OFPLlRSiVgUGT2gkntxVvV/s1600/DSC_0056_1004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtfrvsbux5gRhxzwMPADdmzx51GWv78hnGlPTEesiVmBqVEAgGpsDBkfjISQEBo1_y8I1TQ-ygBynRx-MBrKQjyky0s6DA-k3f-SEf-Ssw0362l2xPDlhxC-OFPLlRSiVgUGT2gkntxVvV/s320/DSC_0056_1004.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I realized that I didn't give you many pictures of Mabel from her birthday. The second child always gets shafted. Here are a few to help make up for the initial slight. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYEbBdudBK5Us71UzKfvEJAgsu0fc7Coo-1MN8Zd549wnpBE70MpBbf_eo9E-kJ4Gu6NJ8wGaBxGHppcN2HGv6sEefV4LV9ZNMqtr0bVL3FaQCktPboEYWrSnw_Xt19zZX5-_iqw_j6x5k/s1600/DSC_0005_1001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYEbBdudBK5Us71UzKfvEJAgsu0fc7Coo-1MN8Zd549wnpBE70MpBbf_eo9E-kJ4Gu6NJ8wGaBxGHppcN2HGv6sEefV4LV9ZNMqtr0bVL3FaQCktPboEYWrSnw_Xt19zZX5-_iqw_j6x5k/s320/DSC_0005_1001.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Not to worry. She's not hypoxic. Just a weird function of the early morning light in the barn and my limited camera skills. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxfXn24tJX72W6ILEM5gtN6S8Dq9gluLqQtz_4aV76zUH6EAbQenIBzipfmy5jqmzUIElvdVlTiQ4kV1ZYpE3uUQXi0_RUDNnwC7Y_HultQbw-ATyTPemQwFYG7XTYxBacgF4dJkMI2VdY/s1600/DSC_0027_1002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxfXn24tJX72W6ILEM5gtN6S8Dq9gluLqQtz_4aV76zUH6EAbQenIBzipfmy5jqmzUIElvdVlTiQ4kV1ZYpE3uUQXi0_RUDNnwC7Y_HultQbw-ATyTPemQwFYG7XTYxBacgF4dJkMI2VdY/s320/DSC_0027_1002.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">That's more like it. Except now she's doing the dog thing with one ear up.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga_7jQp70lK08mPabuLgiodpQMXbPUpih6dHprK0wbI6pv3xgNdnA9FjcFETZOFgAgcZHwPat1PK9DD1hotH2-5pCoVSbnz_E7L8J73msZnUmcPSaiqeoVQ-Py2OMvYsl-TYHLyyRjvDLR/s1600/DSC_0030_1003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga_7jQp70lK08mPabuLgiodpQMXbPUpih6dHprK0wbI6pv3xgNdnA9FjcFETZOFgAgcZHwPat1PK9DD1hotH2-5pCoVSbnz_E7L8J73msZnUmcPSaiqeoVQ-Py2OMvYsl-TYHLyyRjvDLR/s320/DSC_0030_1003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
Breakfast time.<br />
<br />
It's been fun having both calves at the same time. When I started keeping bees I was told it's best to have two hives so you can compare their progress. As a first-timer with water buffalo, it sure has been helpful to have two. I don't ever know which one is the representative of what is typical and maybe neither of them are but I find seeing the variations between the two somehow calming.<br />
<br />
Mabel definitely takes after her biological mother, Effie. Her hide is a slightly lighter color and her haircoat is much less thick than Chuck's. She is also quite assertive about getting her needs met be that food, attention, or time to explore. She found her feet the very first day and has been climbing, running, and jumping ever since. I really need to rent a video camera so I can capture her in all her exuberant glory.<br />
<br />
Chuck, on the other hand, is much more like Audrey. Darker coat, thicker hair, and calm. So calm I was worried about him the first few days. He spent so much time lying down, I wasn't sure he was getting enough to eat. Maybe his leg was bothering him. But then I thought about Audrey and realized that it may just be personality. And calm buffalo is so much nicer than spaz buffalo when they get bigger. I've seen enough evidence both on the gozinta and the gozoutta end of the digestive process to know that he's eating.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0iWQaUNOoOAj2xPYNpXUl6xH-iRTt3smdTWESFKQrNAs-0FuxZ7BulMdRE5ANX7eiaIWm4bbE_zKlRq64e8W2KqbuE2TpG6CjNOQalSLH4e2np2IBYIMRguOVxpQwC3F01uUSqf41dbVd/s1600/DSC_0031_988.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0iWQaUNOoOAj2xPYNpXUl6xH-iRTt3smdTWESFKQrNAs-0FuxZ7BulMdRE5ANX7eiaIWm4bbE_zKlRq64e8W2KqbuE2TpG6CjNOQalSLH4e2np2IBYIMRguOVxpQwC3F01uUSqf41dbVd/s320/DSC_0031_988.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Chuck was very slow to find his feet. He's still not a graceful walker but he is moving around more as of yesterday. And today he discovered running. He's much better with momentum on his side. Maybe he's overthinking things when he tries to walk. I notice that he seems unsure of what order the hooves are supposed to hit the ground. He's very tentative. And when he goes to turn left for example, instead of moving the left front foot first, he picks up the right and crosses it over the left. But when he goes pronking across the barn floor or races out into the pasture, he has no such hesitation. The little spurts of energy don't last too long but they sure are a delight to see.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Also new today, sibling playtime. Today's the first I've seen these two really interact with each other beyond jockeying for pole position at the udder. They are starting to sniff each other, bump into each other, nap together, and generally act like they recognize that they're part of a herd, not just individual buffs. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I am loving early mornings in the barn right now. Everyone's very mellow and there's a lot of love going around. The calves run up to me when I arrive, sometimes to their mother's consternation when she clearly is trying to get some rest and rumination time. It's best if I can sneak in while they're nursing so I can just sit and watch and listen to happy slurpy sounds. Then we can have playtime when they're done. B</span><span style="background-color: white;">oth calves are already doing the roll over for a belly rub thing. I love that this behavior seems hardwired in them. It's also a hoot to see a calf do it. Mabel's so flexible that she flops over on her back like a dog, letting her legs flop out on each side. That won't last long I'm sure but it sure is cute. I try to soak in as much of this happy as I can before returning to the long to-do list.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Right now, we're running two separate herds in our very limited space. And the flood threw our rotational grazing plan into disarray. It would be tough with one unified herd but with two groupings, it's really nuts. Normally, I love a good logistical challenge but this may eventually outstrip even my considerable talents in this arena. We made some progress clearing out flood debris and taking out the damaged barbed-wire fence this weekend but it will be quite a while before we can get the permanent fence redesigned and installed (still haven't had a day without rain since the flood). I've got more temporary fence supplies on the way and will work on creating something halfway feasible once those arrive. At least the new windows for the house are in and the final trim work on those should be completed tomorrow. Am looking forward to having window screens again. The june bugs are getting quite aggressive. Maybe because it's July.</span>Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-75874713132949630172012-07-14T11:34:00.002-04:002012-07-19T09:40:41.114-04:0027 Hours, Part 2Chuck and Mabel. That's really what you wanted to know, right? You've been very patient, so I'll let you know that much of the story upfront. Now, back to where we left off.<br />
<br />
I'd been told that water buffalo are pretty sneaky about giving birth. Even lots of experienced farmers get surprised by the appearance of a calf. One person told me that it's rare to see the actual event and if you just happen to be nearby when the telltale bit of mucus starts emerging from the backside of the cow, don't blink or you'll miss the event. That's the only sign you're getting. I saw it and took the risk of running back to the house for my camera. When I returned a couple of minutes later, this is what I saw:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggDNopDAHU0K2LPKRH9OzA_GvwdHFPDDZiovDW1wm_adqZ9ss25x0Lwy9gykhIAHAQ3siWwp3j9IebRwhzrbzRESvLQCNDs9Kb0xAZNHrPn8-_q5z98kWsmQ_XmMIVOFgp9ZZfSQaAT-Ya/s1600/DSC_0002_991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggDNopDAHU0K2LPKRH9OzA_GvwdHFPDDZiovDW1wm_adqZ9ss25x0Lwy9gykhIAHAQ3siWwp3j9IebRwhzrbzRESvLQCNDs9Kb0xAZNHrPn8-_q5z98kWsmQ_XmMIVOFgp9ZZfSQaAT-Ya/s320/DSC_0002_991.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Click on the photo above to enlarge it and you'll see a golden-tipped hoof starting to emerge. Then there were two hooves:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9UBvjo3LBDoYM6SOss-K1NWGJGLNKV8W-Jyt6FkssF7qs9bG_rugP8qsov0kLspdjihiYMPplXFLVltHZ6IHZqou4p3LqH7sNXaUllAyroYc-KWst9dSUqLEBd9-QUiJIkRgfofcXQZJs/s1600/DSC_0004_992.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9UBvjo3LBDoYM6SOss-K1NWGJGLNKV8W-Jyt6FkssF7qs9bG_rugP8qsov0kLspdjihiYMPplXFLVltHZ6IHZqou4p3LqH7sNXaUllAyroYc-KWst9dSUqLEBd9-QUiJIkRgfofcXQZJs/s320/DSC_0004_992.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
This is correct presentation for a calf--hooves first and pointing down. Knowing this, it's clear why those little hoof tips are so soft. The hooves harden really fast after birth but I'm sure all buff mothers are grateful that the hooves are soft when they're making their way through the birth canal. At this stage, Effie laid down so I took the opportunity to cross to the other side to get between her and the feeder creek which is just past the electric fence (I had already turned off the power so no one would get zapped during labor). Effie was so close to the fence I was worried the calf might slip under and end up in the very swollen creek. Here's what Eschol was doing: more pizza for the expectant father.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSlfcTpfAfNmsJaLTW316uPxZxnNWAf8_SqGRVJuSq6tZ2m8hrwra5b8HIIUK1ErKQFcQrM_H07BKfslaBdAEvSBmxDzBme9XmWV3-lapsjx9qDYyFtTPmVp8-kv7n8iSDdvNtg2OUOUZl/s1600/DSC_0006_993.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSlfcTpfAfNmsJaLTW316uPxZxnNWAf8_SqGRVJuSq6tZ2m8hrwra5b8HIIUK1ErKQFcQrM_H07BKfslaBdAEvSBmxDzBme9XmWV3-lapsjx9qDYyFtTPmVp8-kv7n8iSDdvNtg2OUOUZl/s320/DSC_0006_993.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
When Effie stood up again, she started licking something on the ground. Yup, just that fast, Effie's little girl calf was out. The whole process took about 10 minutes, maybe 15 at the most.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gVMEcU63tIVz-s-uWE2NHC8VC9l51z4bnmEYDxisguK3A47g4wl7AFBgVXdMGG_OfYu0EkptZA0sO5LCU-ix5-X8XyibLuKg8hGDZ01Rq6HFhFjKrgwY494nDGUc7VKXngwkpgNQCsa2/s1600/DSC_0010_996.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gVMEcU63tIVz-s-uWE2NHC8VC9l51z4bnmEYDxisguK3A47g4wl7AFBgVXdMGG_OfYu0EkptZA0sO5LCU-ix5-X8XyibLuKg8hGDZ01Rq6HFhFjKrgwY494nDGUc7VKXngwkpgNQCsa2/s320/DSC_0010_996.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Welcome to the world, Mabel.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4GR8PHAkW6Gj1KwwVakSniLRwBNM07GPt9T08booHOBl4FO4acQkbSj6GQkr6PNiFgGxHA9hh8OrGvzwyw4zDBXHa3EPYUTu14oJm-4AshU75WCyOjbua5GbvkGVg_YNfAUOMfL5SYih/s1600/DSC_0017_997.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4GR8PHAkW6Gj1KwwVakSniLRwBNM07GPt9T08booHOBl4FO4acQkbSj6GQkr6PNiFgGxHA9hh8OrGvzwyw4zDBXHa3EPYUTu14oJm-4AshU75WCyOjbua5GbvkGVg_YNfAUOMfL5SYih/s320/DSC_0017_997.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Eschol came over to give her a sniff and then I gave him my best "you mess with this calf and you will be on my dinner table by next week" look. Don't know if that's what did the trick or he just wanted more pizza but either way he wandered off. The rain (oh, yes--it's still raining even as I write this on Saturday morning) was picking up and it was getting to hard to manage the camera and keep track of two newborns in fairly precarious places. So, I put the camera down and picked up the cell phone. First call to Jim: find your own way home from the airport tonight. Second call to the neighbor: tell the kids to be real quiet when they come up to see the second calf of the day. Third call to my friend, farmsitter, and fellow vet tech: you know how you say I never ask for help? Well, today I'm asking. Not sure what I'm going to need but I definitely needed someone with a functioning brain. An extra pair of eyes and hands and oh maybe a little dinner would be great, too. Big gold star for Beth who came right over and provided all that and more.<br />
<br />
Effie gave Mabel a few licks but didn't do the thorough job that Audrey did with Chuck. Mabel sounded a little juicy in the lungs but after a few minutes her breathing seemed to clear up. And then we were off to the races. Mabel is a little spitfire. She was up on her feet in minutes with no assistance from mother or me. She found her legs fast--not just up but walking with remarkable steadiness despite being in a really boggy, soggy area. She hardly stumbled at all. Effie didn't seem too happy to have her up and trying to nurse (Mabel knew right where to go and what to do) so she kept knocking her down. I assumed she didn't want the calf trying to nurse until the placenta passed but maybe it's also an instinct to keep the newborn down and out of sight of predators. Either way, she was very insistent. Really put her horns into it if you know what I mean. At one point she managed to catch Mabel's head in the curve of her horn but Mabel freed herself. Good girl. Then Eschol came over to join in. Tough love, buffalo style.<br />
<br />
Poor Mabel. So full of life and enthusiasm but only the humans wanted to see her up and about. Her herd was not amused by her precocious behavior. Because Eschol was trying to roll her down the hill towards the creek, I quickly set up a way to get him out of there and into the field across the driveway, the one where Chuck had been born half a day earlier.<br />
<br />
Somewhere in there Beth arrived with food and a level head. The neighbors showed up to see the calves and finish filling in the rutted driveway and it looked like there might be a little calm. The only problem was that Effie kept wandering off toward the flooded end of the fish pond and leaving her calf alone. Mabel was clearly interested in exploring so we kept a close eye on her to make sure she didn't get into trouble. Her ambulatory skills were already so much stronger than Chuck's, it was a delight to watch. Beth captured a bit of her on her smart phone. Sadly, it was about the only time that Mabel tumbled so take my word for it that she really was quite steady on her feet for the most part.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxm5UfUSVnYzLOPH3RWlC4_NIczS0tM4A3mqDa6RO7yYDreCWSARPzuTyrtuGFPBMSkquslmE8R1jugnsKfeA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
While the neighbors kept an eye on Mabel, Beth and I worked on things like getting water set up by the big barn and solidifying the temporary fence that would keep the calves out of the wallow and keep the bull from getting to the barn where our cow/calf pairs would be hanging out. As the evening wore on, it became clear that Effie was completely uninterested in her calf. Not good. As it was getting close to dark and I had visions of coyotes running through my head, I decided to start leading Mabel towards the barn where Audrey and Chuck were in hopes that Effie would follow. Mabel was a champ. With only a few attempts to detour, she got up the big hill, mostly just following me. Here's a picture that Beth snapped of us on our way:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5fAjHh-9ebRglm7v1CFGiTWdv1CyAI_OzHztUl6LVr1b7TGvXzSyR0yVFywoPFFwJYdtGkUMliMAUUbwsRcQrSjv3tIj1I1Kma1wx3_J4FpCJsYlA3hfAqOCRln4Lge0Fxoo4YD7JGaEj/s1600/photo+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5fAjHh-9ebRglm7v1CFGiTWdv1CyAI_OzHztUl6LVr1b7TGvXzSyR0yVFywoPFFwJYdtGkUMliMAUUbwsRcQrSjv3tIj1I1Kma1wx3_J4FpCJsYlA3hfAqOCRln4Lge0Fxoo4YD7JGaEj/s320/photo+(1).JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
We got all the way up to the barn before Effie noticed. She eventually made her way up but didn't seem that engaged. Then again, her placenta still hadn't passed. Meanwhile, Eschol was fussing like crazy for being separated from the herd. Effie and he kept talking across the driveway. She seemed more concerned about him than her calf. Not sure what that's all about but none of the buffs have ever liked it when any of the herd is separated. But this was way more vocalization than we'd ever heard. I wanted to get Eschol back across the driveway where he could be just on the wallow side of the electric fence. That way, he and Effie could touch noses across the fence but I wouldn't have to worry about him tearing apart the barn or the calves. But it was getting dark and he refused to move. Crap. Well, not much to be done now.<br />
<br />
With things winding down for the night and Jim on his way, I sent Beth home with my eternal gratitude. I went back up to the barn to check on everyone and double down on the straw and hay. Effie still was being standoffish. <span style="background-color: white;">Fortunately, Audrey is turning out to be not only a great mom, she's also a great surrogate mom (truly a buffalo after my own heart). She let Mabel nurse while we waited for the placenta to pass. Jim got in around 10pm and came up to the barn to meet the two new members of the herd. Much happniess all around. So wonderful to be hanging out with the calves and moms. Not having Eschol around means we can be right in with the girls and Chuck without having to constantly watch our backs. Eschol quieted down after dark (except when we walked by) and that seemed to calm Effie down. She finally passed her placenta or at least part of it. It's not great if she retains any of the placenta so we hoped she'd pass the rest without incident. I scooped up the placenta as I'd done with Audrey's. Don't worry. Not going to do anything freaky with it. I just think it's coyote bait so I wanted to get it as far away from the calves as possible. The next morning we found the rest of the placenta in the barn, so I'm pretty confident that it's all out now. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Once we had soaked up enough happy, we left the buffs to settle in. I think we got back to the house around 11:30 or 12 but it's all a bit blurry now. We still had a bit of work to do to move furniture, etc. away from all the windows in the house because our contractors would be arriving first thing in the morning. After that, the much-needed shower. Then bed. And blessed slumber. </span><br />
<br />
Up before dawn to check on the buffs and the start of another crazy day. The short version: Effie is rejecting her calf, Eschol made a jail break overnight, and once we corralled him, he showed Effie how to get past the temporary fence so she could join him in the fish pond. So, yet another go at designing that fence to be more buffalo-proof, fixing the fence that Eschol busted through earlier in the day, then we started the really heavy work of clearing the debris off of the destroyed barbed-wire fencing leading up to the Booth (the large knoll where we originally intended to have the buffalo stay and which under normal circumstances would be a very secure area for bull or calves). Jim manned the chainsaw, cutting up several large tree trunks and branches while I helped haul the debris off to a place where it wouldn't take out the fence again if we have a repeat of the flooding. We kept trying to lure Effie back to her calf but to no avail. Audrey continues to be a champ, doing double nursing duty.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5byHgDfUuMaZxZqJ1uJRuSb72dlszFfz9BN27xgUdZyNecnPanuK0giY74Evlx8bz_KMopyA8JJ_-FiLxT_KE9IgnPDPfMLEk82EqoQgIe89uPW7f1nPHLdZQzsl6Yegs9yp4iirWVnCk/s1600/DSC_0017_998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5byHgDfUuMaZxZqJ1uJRuSb72dlszFfz9BN27xgUdZyNecnPanuK0giY74Evlx8bz_KMopyA8JJ_-FiLxT_KE9IgnPDPfMLEk82EqoQgIe89uPW7f1nPHLdZQzsl6Yegs9yp4iirWVnCk/s320/DSC_0017_998.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I hope we can convince Effie today. I think if we can just get Mabel to try nursing her, it might stimulate the hormones enough to get Effie to let down her milk. At least I don't have to worry that the calf isn't getting colostrum or milk. But if Audrey has to keep nursing two calves and Effie won't let anyone have her milk, there's not going to be much cheese being made here. But right now I don't care if I never get a drop of milk as long as the calves get what they need.<br />
<br />
OK, back to it. Need to go finish pulling the soggy stuff out of the workshop. Keep your fingers crossed that the sun comes out today and helps us to dry out a little. And that Effie's maternal instinct kicks in.Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-82538191145688032192012-07-13T22:27:00.001-04:002012-07-19T09:41:00.656-04:0027 Hours, Part 1You know how something always breaks in the week before you go on vacation? I thought I had staved off the usual appliance meltdown or plumbing malfunction by arranging to have all the windows in the house replaced in the run up to our trip. Silly me. That wouldn't do. In the span of 27 hours, we had a flash flood and our two water buffalo heifers gave birth.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Ox_s75WxZ84icKET700a7h18AOLSEVlwrbCKL0VrhdgWa7jcHjv6PBeEkE8LkZ3ECdOESRoSEZsuMcKDf523DcZCc036B8tk77NDefg8wd32x_BOpRuFuzgdMt7oFpuNXHqMRvfXpssf/s1600/DSC_0019_975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Ox_s75WxZ84icKET700a7h18AOLSEVlwrbCKL0VrhdgWa7jcHjv6PBeEkE8LkZ3ECdOESRoSEZsuMcKDf523DcZCc036B8tk77NDefg8wd32x_BOpRuFuzgdMt7oFpuNXHqMRvfXpssf/s320/DSC_0019_975.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The flood happened Wednesday afternoon. We got water in all sorts of places--buildings and fields--where it shouldn't have been but the biggest problem was losing some crucial permanent fencing around the access point to our largest pasture. To keep the buffalo from taking advantage of the seriously listing gate (pictured above) and getting into trouble, I moved them from the main pasture where they were having fun with the wet-weather creek to higher ground across the driveway. Here's Audrey just before the move--the other two are out of sight, down in the deep part of the creek to the right.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5-k7XR6E0cu_cX7Qg2YG_DEj2xAWlnJLN0eXee_A1DLIRXko5OksqmBDqw9jKtmWQVAoQ4weDb3iMK-DT0nesGRPKEjnDf0H6hbmQq2kxNvFKwEiDHR8gyIfAVBw5HAzHuIY6xdFIeDRe/s1600/DSC_0016_976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5-k7XR6E0cu_cX7Qg2YG_DEj2xAWlnJLN0eXee_A1DLIRXko5OksqmBDqw9jKtmWQVAoQ4weDb3iMK-DT0nesGRPKEjnDf0H6hbmQq2kxNvFKwEiDHR8gyIfAVBw5HAzHuIY6xdFIeDRe/s320/DSC_0016_976.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">There wasn't much to be done until the water receded, so I stayed up late trying to get some work cleared off my desk in anticipation of a big post-flood cleanup. Thursday morning, I got up around 6:15 and looked outside to see our bull in the yard next to the house. Not a good thing. Clothes hastily applied, I raced out to try to close off as many escape routes as possible while sending out my best don't-mess-with-me vibe. I was wondering where the girls were but needed to get the bull under control first. Fortunately, he took my strong suggestion to make his way back via the fenced area we call the fish pond and I closed the gate behind him. Then I ran down to see whether the girls were still in the field where I'd left them the night before. Yes! And weirdly no sign of damage to the fence. Not sure how the bull escaped. No matter. Just had to get the herd reunited. Eschol was eager to get back to the girls, so a few gate openings, closings, and temporary fence lines later, he was back with the herd. Effie ran over to greet him. But not Audrey. Hmmmmm....better go check on her. What on earth????? Look what was at her feet:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikY6ON691WyNf_z6z23jXavQI8_671wmHeLFT1tGNecNCXf3SQKBSg0vq0S70q5CcgNit4CFuFiky7clDslOTxrH9_JB6Tkdv88G2P_8c97h5w_wjlP4vSRFEeYFqHoGy7iDtx6qvZtWcy/s1600/DSC_0062_980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikY6ON691WyNf_z6z23jXavQI8_671wmHeLFT1tGNecNCXf3SQKBSg0vq0S70q5CcgNit4CFuFiky7clDslOTxrH9_JB6Tkdv88G2P_8c97h5w_wjlP4vSRFEeYFqHoGy7iDtx6qvZtWcy/s320/DSC_0062_980.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">A little bull calf. All covered in slime, so he clearly had just been born. Maybe that's why Eschol came over to the house. He should have brought cigars. On second thought, maybe he got booted from the field during labor and grazing in the forbidden zone by the house was his version of going out for pizza and beer.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQK_jQ4PU2nSk6jUkvpbvtOWHWfXRanKrOdjM4YlUG_T12t-66NSfAyTC5gMcOf66JxmiMTRSx91ITBYKhq7Muv1bn7UO_uGZRoEsDecGe45az-HyLbY9JCHp-xHJxWG9yl15QgRKz6Vt/s1600/DSC_0070_982.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQK_jQ4PU2nSk6jUkvpbvtOWHWfXRanKrOdjM4YlUG_T12t-66NSfAyTC5gMcOf66JxmiMTRSx91ITBYKhq7Muv1bn7UO_uGZRoEsDecGe45az-HyLbY9JCHp-xHJxWG9yl15QgRKz6Vt/s320/DSC_0070_982.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Audrey was showing all the right instincts, licking him from head to toe. I gave them a few moments alone while I ran to the house for the camera. I wasn't sure how protective she'd be of her calf but she let me come right up. The calf was every bit as cartoony as I had imagined he'd be: all ears and legs. And those golden-tipped hooves.....crazy!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2iaeynITDTDU8BHCdv8GOYYc8dC6Z5jaR9pm3Ec31ngG3Nb9sdnR_dLqaTr6CD2gRkOqN60RLNJU4eWvrAMei0ZX21N9w_KjpxY-XS3lEtrJ-MjO4V9nW4u3T2hE3NeNpHH70vc-m9qkm/s1600/DSC_0073_983.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2iaeynITDTDU8BHCdv8GOYYc8dC6Z5jaR9pm3Ec31ngG3Nb9sdnR_dLqaTr6CD2gRkOqN60RLNJU4eWvrAMei0ZX21N9w_KjpxY-XS3lEtrJ-MjO4V9nW4u3T2hE3NeNpHH70vc-m9qkm/s320/DSC_0073_983.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">The soft little ends of his hooves didn't stay golden for long, so I'm glad I got to see him fresh out of the oven. He showed a nice, strong suckle reflex right away, trying to nurse on my fingers. The next couple of hours I spent helping him find his legs. He wanted to get up right away but it took a long time and much assistance for him to get the hang of it. He's too heavy for me to lift completely (I'm guessing around 90 pounds give or take), so I mostly tried to spot him, supporting his midsection as his tried to get all four legs in all the right places and get the hooves turned the right way down. Even tho' Audrey licked him a lot, there was still lots of slimy goodness on him which then transferred to me. As well as the manure he kept managing to fall in. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5NwThjxmhJEfJ6S_tbt_GM6tdYWbEmFL7jEiUOJKV3a1jjY453cJ3E81cDp6yEFI9tfgJtHFzbmZFnL1bwzQ1wpz3r3ZFvZNVpYwFWP4pm05liKwds57rgzvP3e1hMFzRmr0Z9v8rm9-c/s1600/DSC_0084_984.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5NwThjxmhJEfJ6S_tbt_GM6tdYWbEmFL7jEiUOJKV3a1jjY453cJ3E81cDp6yEFI9tfgJtHFzbmZFnL1bwzQ1wpz3r3ZFvZNVpYwFWP4pm05liKwds57rgzvP3e1hMFzRmr0Z9v8rm9-c/s320/DSC_0084_984.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I probably could have waited longer to let him figure it out before intervening but I both wanted to get him going on the nursing and he was really close to a steep slope, so I was nervous about him launching himself down the hill. Eventually, he made it up onto all fours on his own.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAWsnS_l6ELQHKSa6eewAAoFexbKeruBS5rc1f_xd9j_AyUBY4w2WFb2546_rQsEV0nG1gngviFUJfyUMeOHOjLQD2C9LXry8UAgyj53HtER3CHGCJGAILHJMQIvSioPRaInKKntCenupR/s1600/DSC_0028_987.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAWsnS_l6ELQHKSa6eewAAoFexbKeruBS5rc1f_xd9j_AyUBY4w2WFb2546_rQsEV0nG1gngviFUJfyUMeOHOjLQD2C9LXry8UAgyj53HtER3CHGCJGAILHJMQIvSioPRaInKKntCenupR/s320/DSC_0028_987.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Unfortunately, every time the poor, wobbly little guy would get up and try to nurse, Audrey would push him away. Even worse, Eschol would run over and knock him down. And he didn't stop there. He'd start pushing the little guy with his horns, pretty viciously. One time he knocked him down a small embankment but I got him back up and he didn't seem too much worse for wear. I spent quite a bit of time wrestling with Eschol that morning and distracting him long enough for him to forget about the calf. Effie was uncharacteristically chill about the whole thing, not intervening to help the calf or Audrey. She really seemed like she just didn't want to get involved. Not typical for our enforcer/head of security. Eventually I managed to get Eschol and Effie crossed back into the fish pond leaving Audrey and her calf to bond in peace. I was worried that so much time had passed without him nursing but then around 11am, Audrey passed her placenta. That explains why she wouldn't let him nurse. I had assumed it had passed right after he was born and I'd missed it. Really wasn't expecting a 5-hour time lag. I'll spare you the photographic evidence but my students will not be so lucky in the fall.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">That done, I got back to work on helping the calf find his mother's teats and bribing her with treats so she'd stand still long enough for him to latch on. It worked. The first nursing didn't last long but he got his first colostrum so I felt much calmer. One worry down, a million to go. Thoroughly slimed, I left mom and calf for half an hour so I could recharge my and the camera's batteries. Good thing I didn't try changing clothes just yet.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsA-s7mTcBIsaW2azSLr6xRO3khMzv6051M9Z9AOLO74EICtutIs36zIDIHpgALI0FrIFf8_wrb9Yp64cm6Ky4g18z9ceh9LfW9m91IsIwDDeLV5t8fAOuLvQYwx6jgLXs0DfKNwxk5uzG/s1600/DSC_0039_990.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsA-s7mTcBIsaW2azSLr6xRO3khMzv6051M9Z9AOLO74EICtutIs36zIDIHpgALI0FrIFf8_wrb9Yp64cm6Ky4g18z9ceh9LfW9m91IsIwDDeLV5t8fAOuLvQYwx6jgLXs0DfKNwxk5uzG/s320/DSC_0039_990.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">When I returned, Audrey was waiting to cross over to join the rest of the herd. One problem: her calf was nowhere to be seen. I started looking up and down the embankment and found him trying to launch himself out of a ditch (miraculously, one of the few without standing water from the flood). I helped him up and checked for injuries but again he seemed fine. Reunited him with Audrey then got ready to move them across the driveway to be closer to but not in with the others. The path was all downhill but it is steep, slippery, and uneven. Not a problem for adult buffalo but way challenging for a little wobble monster. Mom led the way and I offered lifting and balancing support. It was pretty ugly. At one stage, Audrey and I sort of Malachi crunched him between us to keep him up on his feet. But eventually, we got him over to the main pasture. Time to rest. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif9i_SpD2T0hBSr8vBo7TtX9lJ3jMEqcj7KX4h1tQCqy5X6-QpSTqSxt7RQDJGfZyWLTAxsyxYgWwYEOQaf8s_Xs0ZXtr2hBWqWamXQxk6mkNWd6uRsedPsiYj3WiZ7A_UZPw23sVOMHEQ/s1600/DSC_0008_995.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif9i_SpD2T0hBSr8vBo7TtX9lJ3jMEqcj7KX4h1tQCqy5X6-QpSTqSxt7RQDJGfZyWLTAxsyxYgWwYEOQaf8s_Xs0ZXtr2hBWqWamXQxk6mkNWd6uRsedPsiYj3WiZ7A_UZPw23sVOMHEQ/s320/DSC_0008_995.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Well, they got to rest. I had to erect a temporary fence behind mom and calf to encourage her to head up to the big barn and not downhill to the wallow. It would be bad news if the calf stumbled into the wallow. I went up to the barn and put straw down for bedding and filled up the hay bin. Over the next few hours, Audrey coaxed her little guy up the big hill. I was a little concerned that his left front knee was looking a little hyperextended. I checked to see if anything looked swollen or injured but there was no obvious sign of trauma. And he was putting weight on it. He just wouldn't walk very far without taking a rest. And that would be understandable given the day he'd had regardless of how his leg felt. To add to my worries, Audrey's right eye was swollen for no apparent reason. I made sure I had the vet's number in my phone and decided to wait a bit before calling. Partly, I didn't want to be the panicked first-time farmer and partly, I wanted to see if anything else was going to go wrong. My initial joy was slipping away with the waning adrenaline.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">So, to keep myself occupied, I turned my attention to getting the washed out gravel back into the deep ruts in the driveway. Not fun work but at least the worst section was right by the buffalo so I could keep an eye on everyone while I worked. </span><br />
<br />
Our neighbor who lives at the far end of our driveway came down with her kids to see the calf and offered to go get some shovels and put the kids to work helping with the driveway. I took a moment to sit down by the corn crib having just realized how damn sore I was all over from having been on my feet in rubber boots doing some pretty heavy lifting for nearly 11 hours already. I glanced over to see Eschol grazing while Effie laid down, got up, turned around, laid down again, then up again, and oh lord is that mucus I see? My very overtired brain knew immediately what was going on but didn't want to believe it. At 4:50pm, nearly 11 hours after Audrey had her calf, Effie was having hers.<br />
<br />
To be continued.....Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-51030768171843044812012-07-12T12:21:00.001-04:002012-07-19T09:41:14.562-04:00Audrey's little buffNo time to tell the story in detail now but Audrey had her first calf this morning around 6am. Here's another picture to tide you over until I have time to post more.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0cYT7sLj2tGb-mE5PI-jwbV6EFwaZTtkKzMGbX6mpUJMLZK8y0q505ge_nqBiYQoBUK4UtjxAFsqbruiciHypkQr69OpNFknUNLTyoBMGh0YtRrky85CKTDeimFVhTWTJU0c7SgrJqnYY/s1600/DSC_0007_972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0cYT7sLj2tGb-mE5PI-jwbV6EFwaZTtkKzMGbX6mpUJMLZK8y0q505ge_nqBiYQoBUK4UtjxAFsqbruiciHypkQr69OpNFknUNLTyoBMGh0YtRrky85CKTDeimFVhTWTJU0c7SgrJqnYY/s320/DSC_0007_972.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-20596251703379351002012-07-12T07:47:00.001-04:002012-07-19T09:41:28.767-04:00It never rains but it pours<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlfJGoqntIrfQV9SHSgOQJTT2UsnUwJuXiaLaI9qxWfdeIemOpSOkO9XoDfq9LaOsbxDLoPdiN59uE0gGCnHcU6e6m6P8lG09QYxVIPZqXk4BOhx3YOhVZafJBrrfkf3jCNc258xZmUt_/s1600/DSC_0097_971.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlfJGoqntIrfQV9SHSgOQJTT2UsnUwJuXiaLaI9qxWfdeIemOpSOkO9XoDfq9LaOsbxDLoPdiN59uE0gGCnHcU6e6m6P8lG09QYxVIPZqXk4BOhx3YOhVZafJBrrfkf3jCNc258xZmUt_/s320/DSC_0097_971.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-29112076833762479182012-07-06T13:14:00.000-04:002012-07-06T13:14:29.956-04:00We Got DeckedThis crazy hot weather has been knocking us out. Mountain temps aren't supposed to get up to, let alone exceed, the century mark. And yet.....here we are in our second straight week of heat in the mid-90s and going as high as 102 degrees some days. All of us here--buffs, plants, and people--are focused on little other than the essentials of hydration. Since we're in serious water appreciation mode right now, it seems like a good time to talk about something that has really helped us to make the most of our farm's best natural water feature, <span style="background-color: white;">Sandy Mush Creek (shown below in late autumn).</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4pe8cueNGpYXL9wReOwOnqyNGGVduRoiTlZZg5kIYRqSXt1UxUy7xuaEkcjZpXhpkf97Y9-Mnf0ZHSnVvnKyFvfnzVGd6WhgjJYAbZgODmhTh2cfwQ9oQqsNssJlFTmSuyYf5ggkZRTS4/s1600/IMGP0802.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4pe8cueNGpYXL9wReOwOnqyNGGVduRoiTlZZg5kIYRqSXt1UxUy7xuaEkcjZpXhpkf97Y9-Mnf0ZHSnVvnKyFvfnzVGd6WhgjJYAbZgODmhTh2cfwQ9oQqsNssJlFTmSuyYf5ggkZRTS4/s320/IMGP0802.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
When we moved into this house four years ago, we couldn't understand why the porches were oriented away from this gorgeous, big creek that makes a beeline for the house then curves away at the last minute. The house (winter view below) seemed to turn its back on the best feature. We've longed for a deck that would set things right.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_fP4tyRmAjwnlyLh9oAQHP50kUeVY3mpXclg8gsZPoSZcmo1QZg6KNhhFWwOsWn-X5_rNeu5IbgT8WATtKMx3gAo-_qNdHsiV-uMe74-4Hu0Uk2fqMXtufU5KPvEjOJvlwPwncMJ_dfi/s1600/DSC_0003_751.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_fP4tyRmAjwnlyLh9oAQHP50kUeVY3mpXclg8gsZPoSZcmo1QZg6KNhhFWwOsWn-X5_rNeu5IbgT8WATtKMx3gAo-_qNdHsiV-uMe74-4Hu0Uk2fqMXtufU5KPvEjOJvlwPwncMJ_dfi/s320/DSC_0003_751.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Fortunately, the fine folks at the aptly named <a href="http://riversbendconst.com/">River's Bend Construction</a>, helped us come up with a design that would work with the challenging terrain behind our house. We wanted the feel of being out over the creek but with a fairly narrow strip of level ground before a steep, rocky slope down to the creek, we thought we might have to settle for a standard rectangular deck. Cantilevering to the rescue. Part thrust stage, part ship's deck, the final product features a rounded deck and low benches to keep the deck from obliterating the view from the house.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF3T2W6hCBSY3hF_0GCE2tNgnFI9Wpbp_uXyyPJsAS5wuUeW-SHi-eeOgkBOrwZKZz8stbKj2pdzr99VZ3XgWFZ021yIez29a-tQ436qxfqDLV-GDDpT197rGbOy-KXwO5FKgnWFibcaFE/s1600/DSC_0009_760.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF3T2W6hCBSY3hF_0GCE2tNgnFI9Wpbp_uXyyPJsAS5wuUeW-SHi-eeOgkBOrwZKZz8stbKj2pdzr99VZ3XgWFZ021yIez29a-tQ436qxfqDLV-GDDpT197rGbOy-KXwO5FKgnWFibcaFE/s320/DSC_0009_760.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiauORUIOQShdW18yaBJ69Ndd5zjkiezebnD84u4Md_oN_BiKj3lLgi1LwGQdgyEqzsmVmVCVcQ5n5aPn9GCRdOfqwrYbO7RUnsg0nMRTUK0nRvYSb49-KzvFMLwS2nG1zHiSpYbcZMIriI/s1600/DSC_0017_959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiauORUIOQShdW18yaBJ69Ndd5zjkiezebnD84u4Md_oN_BiKj3lLgi1LwGQdgyEqzsmVmVCVcQ5n5aPn9GCRdOfqwrYbO7RUnsg0nMRTUK0nRvYSb49-KzvFMLwS2nG1zHiSpYbcZMIriI/s320/DSC_0017_959.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoBzop-ab7_1nV8v5BnGgMy7D6-OEYq0TD9cdUdvKdmlV6ijXKjXCAv6-VdGFBN18zzDuEVPuwNzvWphyphenhyphenY7hkseV47LcBe44T09rZQWUMh3npy5-Jl-k4Ne3b5VUlkaB5TVSV7tFmgjwrd/s1600/DSC_0004_958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoBzop-ab7_1nV8v5BnGgMy7D6-OEYq0TD9cdUdvKdmlV6ijXKjXCAv6-VdGFBN18zzDuEVPuwNzvWphyphenhyphenY7hkseV47LcBe44T09rZQWUMh3npy5-Jl-k4Ne3b5VUlkaB5TVSV7tFmgjwrd/s320/DSC_0004_958.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
That was March. Fast forward to now. We stained the deck. The foliage returned. And it got hot. Damn hot.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBaXUoYkBMKRItWhubs3hMbz9JELHqO4ay0VAUYxqsL3WwYHdF9rRSDkmm-hLMPRDwnQH-OBsJYPPyiSlgLEUOWPPoSMuFUTV9CVG59h7HOhe1a0YD_zO3yk2ymEdqs7IvZhlPjBl5jPiG/s1600/DSC_0006_964.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBaXUoYkBMKRItWhubs3hMbz9JELHqO4ay0VAUYxqsL3WwYHdF9rRSDkmm-hLMPRDwnQH-OBsJYPPyiSlgLEUOWPPoSMuFUTV9CVG59h7HOhe1a0YD_zO3yk2ymEdqs7IvZhlPjBl5jPiG/s320/DSC_0006_964.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
Built over the area where the sleeping porch was on the original farmhouse, we are using this deck daily as an additional room--one where we can beat the heat by being out in it. Thanks to the copious quantity of black walnut trees along the creek and a steep ridge to the west, we get a fair amount of shade in the late afternoon. And just sitting still above the creek seems to help us attract whatever miniscule breeze may be wafting about.<br />
<br />
We had worried a bit that by creating this new structure, we might lose out on some of our wildlife sightings. But once the hammering stopped, the critters came back. In fact, now that we're able to be out there more, we're seeing all sorts of activity. We're not the only ones seeking relief from the heat. Just this morning, I saw a doe and two spotted fawns splashing around in the creek. On the 4th of July, we saw a young beaver (or possibly a muskrat) swimming around the bend in the creek followed by a half hour of watching Harry, our resident great blue heron, slowly walk his way up the creek. Normally, he's so skittish that if he senses any movement or sound on our part, he takes off (an impressive display of wingspan results but I feel bad for chasing him off). Apparently, we were high up enough that he didn't see us, focused as he was on his spear fishing.<br />
<br />
Last month, I saw a duck with 6 ducklings which she loaded up on her back to get through the "rapids" at the bend; a seemingly disoriented bat dive into the water and drown (I fear white nose syndrome has made its way here); and a huge raccoon methodically make its way along the edge of the creek digging every 12-18 inches, presumably looking for turtle eggs.<br />
<br />
Best of all, has been the bee tree.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf28nhLuBOO64vU4tZ9Q8JGBigFbGZOmQDFctWpNIEnuRuKfg3Yfgjd9blYHtcOB1rHr8EEFtY1qCHuNFOGH9sfaIOYZDqzSZcAdgHxspn0aBAdD1Bn2QdOYo_kjim0Za0Su1DloTkc0me/s1600/DSC_0002_960.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf28nhLuBOO64vU4tZ9Q8JGBigFbGZOmQDFctWpNIEnuRuKfg3Yfgjd9blYHtcOB1rHr8EEFtY1qCHuNFOGH9sfaIOYZDqzSZcAdgHxspn0aBAdD1Bn2QdOYo_kjim0Za0Su1DloTkc0me/s320/DSC_0002_960.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
One morning when I was enjoying my coffee on the deck, I noticed a lot of honeybee activity near the little dying hemlock tree (not sure if you can see it in the center of the picture above covered in poison ivy). Since the tree lines up with the bee hive down by the garden, I thought they might just be passing by as part of their flight pattern. But the more I watched, the more I could tell that I was seeing the flight angle and approach of bees taking off and landing in this tree. I hiked down as close as I could get to see if I could see a swarm. Nope, just bees flying in and out of a crevice in the side of the tree. A bee tree!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEXXLAt71xOFGKJ4oStI29kl0SgetRsD2cy1HhqZp4WMtrW5QoLEbP5C6FXyQng6Xhd_ljy7Xy2UfjhuYq9YnztlE6sRmWJzUXjU1UZVJizfGgrVlBCEtBKOuOodxMazMQTsQWlUw05V0k/s1600/DSC_0005_962.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEXXLAt71xOFGKJ4oStI29kl0SgetRsD2cy1HhqZp4WMtrW5QoLEbP5C6FXyQng6Xhd_ljy7Xy2UfjhuYq9YnztlE6sRmWJzUXjU1UZVJizfGgrVlBCEtBKOuOodxMazMQTsQWlUw05V0k/s320/DSC_0005_962.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
It's not a very large tree, so I wouldn't have expected a colony to set up shop inside but there it was. A feral group of honeybees making their home right in front of me. Too cool. If the tree were remotely accessible, I would consider trying to capture the colony and convert it into one of my managed hives but it is impossible to reach safely, let alone to do the kind of chainsaw work that would be required to cut out the bees. In keeping with the mellow, contemplative mood that inevitably results from sitting on the deck, I'll just let them be.Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-78992144974269584342012-06-19T22:26:00.000-04:002012-07-09T22:25:33.469-04:00WallowingHey, lady! It's hot out here. Really hot. We don't have time for pictures. We gotta go.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyHHBk7VA_hyHPoDSrOJ67DGzQIzXnhfj4KHFjbeTdkHtcMJPpDgKIDRd1EZXHxF21hqvmlJHXP8vJSa42hNG5D3RCFZG5nzBXVtFFXbxJ6AxNlFhFgIKkHDA_I_J_6t4dYgO7bU4U7y2W/s1600/DSC_0071_893.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyHHBk7VA_hyHPoDSrOJ67DGzQIzXnhfj4KHFjbeTdkHtcMJPpDgKIDRd1EZXHxF21hqvmlJHXP8vJSa42hNG5D3RCFZG5nzBXVtFFXbxJ6AxNlFhFgIKkHDA_I_J_6t4dYgO7bU4U7y2W/s320/DSC_0071_893.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Oooh! That's more like it....</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNnEqXSh_zO8-luVl4l3gEQLaqfnD1dsOXiLRTEsoT8AZ4PNYH1t02TW4JgekZ2TLkS5TM_WJkPQw-_FQKQ95PW_kl81ET2-BKJuAZ2yQy88MhlEZR9xzPacDlPppKBEIZ4LhOE-yz3wVn/s1600/DSC_0080_894.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNnEqXSh_zO8-luVl4l3gEQLaqfnD1dsOXiLRTEsoT8AZ4PNYH1t02TW4JgekZ2TLkS5TM_WJkPQw-_FQKQ95PW_kl81ET2-BKJuAZ2yQy88MhlEZR9xzPacDlPppKBEIZ4LhOE-yz3wVn/s320/DSC_0080_894.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimb14G0o8U03_HOAik5ZBdR19AP-_6ACFCcY0j0M3Yd_ffp44uqHC9gi1LJipUjKgZJAWNmlB7CSNqD0P9LboOmur61gZ9QT22GbbV3lkPbXkULLg_RcEOYP1yLH_XyyTyvOEfhDZ6QbgB/s1600/DSC_0082_895.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimb14G0o8U03_HOAik5ZBdR19AP-_6ACFCcY0j0M3Yd_ffp44uqHC9gi1LJipUjKgZJAWNmlB7CSNqD0P9LboOmur61gZ9QT22GbbV3lkPbXkULLg_RcEOYP1yLH_XyyTyvOEfhDZ6QbgB/s320/DSC_0082_895.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5jzQ7xkNyiBqHBX5LKeg-E5xItBcVMt3TclCZrdWUar7q9BQmF1jBj2ws2-KxTlHhNgPhThoNr3AVvWPBeuBZYYbUfDq0rwTVdkTP34sB5jJ18p3Nb_s3rx0741SIsfmVVJ6BJnLhspwc/s1600/DSC_0083_896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5jzQ7xkNyiBqHBX5LKeg-E5xItBcVMt3TclCZrdWUar7q9BQmF1jBj2ws2-KxTlHhNgPhThoNr3AVvWPBeuBZYYbUfDq0rwTVdkTP34sB5jJ18p3Nb_s3rx0741SIsfmVVJ6BJnLhspwc/s320/DSC_0083_896.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..............</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRQKGDEDyluyCPrne1tkwTElqtaxfVWlMOjWa1QKyiaJ7Bkoq8ilvf4k2pY3gWuaEBqoRKnVsuNng4z1LogETZ3EhBzwqqW6OXkieh1IRyUPX9Dv0909MUKWlQMfhFQ2zdtT21p7qQZR4i/s1600/DSC_0084_897.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRQKGDEDyluyCPrne1tkwTElqtaxfVWlMOjWa1QKyiaJ7Bkoq8ilvf4k2pY3gWuaEBqoRKnVsuNng4z1LogETZ3EhBzwqqW6OXkieh1IRyUPX9Dv0909MUKWlQMfhFQ2zdtT21p7qQZR4i/s320/DSC_0084_897.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Me, too!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu60HYOwSFGEb95C7d6ynEZUyNa8hDQ6eyZ2cx6Fy9dSvU0J-pGSLg6u4eehYaRnbfw2KHzIX3YMRJ3jpRjSNLV75ZKCbDQe-bcsB-hZs0etykgJuzu8Bucd9VGqv6yzNc1sUYlCu2F-bA/s1600/DSC_0087_898.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu60HYOwSFGEb95C7d6ynEZUyNa8hDQ6eyZ2cx6Fy9dSvU0J-pGSLg6u4eehYaRnbfw2KHzIX3YMRJ3jpRjSNLV75ZKCbDQe-bcsB-hZs0etykgJuzu8Bucd9VGqv6yzNc1sUYlCu2F-bA/s320/DSC_0087_898.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWcSR8zdkL6VMFAgSGH1dfjEv5zHgDXQ_zJAE98t1Dp1HMeQqMq-Tty0P85loo5Gzgfh_IMFzx1izk4JKSoLGiIoud-1rWPO4SRc47mhxMDPvTragYDOGuLOSgW_lYzafCNsbFC1AYnE7H/s1600/DSC_0088_899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWcSR8zdkL6VMFAgSGH1dfjEv5zHgDXQ_zJAE98t1Dp1HMeQqMq-Tty0P85loo5Gzgfh_IMFzx1izk4JKSoLGiIoud-1rWPO4SRc47mhxMDPvTragYDOGuLOSgW_lYzafCNsbFC1AYnE7H/s320/DSC_0088_899.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
How about if I lie down right on top of you? Would that be ok?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmw6Vv1T2FBEhyphenhyphenpZJD7DRpqhTJ-MjLooHCfPJAq8RZfMh19hvYgWJanM35GNSdBbhdPb6PlM6TrbQKLFXKy6dyaIscxU_pweb4-4QvS75pHg_jHoQYf9iwcMTQiqKfjqLW-IoA6cteCOzF/s1600/DSC_0089_900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmw6Vv1T2FBEhyphenhyphenpZJD7DRpqhTJ-MjLooHCfPJAq8RZfMh19hvYgWJanM35GNSdBbhdPb6PlM6TrbQKLFXKy6dyaIscxU_pweb4-4QvS75pHg_jHoQYf9iwcMTQiqKfjqLW-IoA6cteCOzF/s320/DSC_0089_900.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
No? OK. Over here then.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3n2Lm7AK4bfiAnl52Z7m5IsbXl52jdMjf30ZOQzjZBf557ShNHlqWK0n7jHjVKRPkHa64_Ovy1PRO1ZJgkD2N_tF325XjlYm9bq7Jt8pFk_9a16oaKKaTrQUeV9lh2xfJeNtTBANTbGuU/s1600/DSC_0092_901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3n2Lm7AK4bfiAnl52Z7m5IsbXl52jdMjf30ZOQzjZBf557ShNHlqWK0n7jHjVKRPkHa64_Ovy1PRO1ZJgkD2N_tF325XjlYm9bq7Jt8pFk_9a16oaKKaTrQUeV9lh2xfJeNtTBANTbGuU/s320/DSC_0092_901.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Work the horns.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvbZS-Y-7QJMbzB0RxSJOmCNPzmLtsAsqTqqvvgJseIZ9pyRDX4mo7QZNuk1YbkIL7wTAbr9W3DFJZZzEA9gD7Jy2MUxTdrhrTxWrrADJbGHCgHTn8-4yVa71UuVWquch51rQGM-XSQzGj/s1600/DSC_0093_902.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvbZS-Y-7QJMbzB0RxSJOmCNPzmLtsAsqTqqvvgJseIZ9pyRDX4mo7QZNuk1YbkIL7wTAbr9W3DFJZZzEA9gD7Jy2MUxTdrhrTxWrrADJbGHCgHTn8-4yVa71UuVWquch51rQGM-XSQzGj/s320/DSC_0093_902.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Now that I'm thoroughly coated in mud, shall we try this again?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVUmaF2XYVLgUB9LYceFOV2zuZ1hPvKW_L8mOZdAgGamO80r-HOvH7c8qhnaT3VAbwJXsjpd1YhBJGZiAxvVxQxb58eRpIyGPr3q9ykQs7y1jxwilSqnkqXsUw2ueTuq4odN4ou5USiCLe/s1600/DSC_0098_904.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVUmaF2XYVLgUB9LYceFOV2zuZ1hPvKW_L8mOZdAgGamO80r-HOvH7c8qhnaT3VAbwJXsjpd1YhBJGZiAxvVxQxb58eRpIyGPr3q9ykQs7y1jxwilSqnkqXsUw2ueTuq4odN4ou5USiCLe/s320/DSC_0098_904.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgzRqprMvkn2bR1h4oAY1qeEOLFy5CwK2PXJ48X5Kb8l4XMX7jxX3sH157oLHrWkygrSa4q554nEIvXwtvD9Gei6pL6EEEZnU0eVvqw7c96gRnl3awwWCPOiRtEsyC2Pzf1IF4rb71hEFx/s1600/DSC_0100_903.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgzRqprMvkn2bR1h4oAY1qeEOLFy5CwK2PXJ48X5Kb8l4XMX7jxX3sH157oLHrWkygrSa4q554nEIvXwtvD9Gei6pL6EEEZnU0eVvqw7c96gRnl3awwWCPOiRtEsyC2Pzf1IF4rb71hEFx/s320/DSC_0100_903.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I'll just slide on in here.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje5SazUdg_-sonJgBHFH-fHyjeaNVnOAD0iFvt5EXwxr2UUErDKlFBgjRN9fBkvnuTy5gPlykjH4T02aElAT4q7AeStBXnHwVkF_ec3x0TcZO5R3wL4HeZv0rROcomj-sSpz8iVIDR8vI4/s1600/DSC_0103_905.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje5SazUdg_-sonJgBHFH-fHyjeaNVnOAD0iFvt5EXwxr2UUErDKlFBgjRN9fBkvnuTy5gPlykjH4T02aElAT4q7AeStBXnHwVkF_ec3x0TcZO5R3wL4HeZv0rROcomj-sSpz8iVIDR8vI4/s320/DSC_0103_905.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Uh oh. Three's a crowd.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9u75VLi68x90h9yiPjZ6EnWtJ0iPSJKGneRzgdBP7LqvwDT3E6zYjO-w0gI_fjqNYJBrSz5GllkkMBQqm9HJYg6a05a8gKopCY7dk5gRWWVxr89MD55qQtjPZhlAMXa_-PPaLlt5pqIms/s1600/DSC_0104_906.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9u75VLi68x90h9yiPjZ6EnWtJ0iPSJKGneRzgdBP7LqvwDT3E6zYjO-w0gI_fjqNYJBrSz5GllkkMBQqm9HJYg6a05a8gKopCY7dk5gRWWVxr89MD55qQtjPZhlAMXa_-PPaLlt5pqIms/s320/DSC_0104_906.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Better roll over so it looks like I'm taking up more room.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipFimS_EBXKb2-2ms-zph-rJKqlk6m3sMUl4Tuzd84Z7-bIrDAHbj1KDOvW-1Qa01Uvroye3A6R-DNQ9oV9iRE2x9ehVq861JHff9cRcYIvqAZDcE7Vv5iu0ja6gXwQIxtht5Of2exKYF6/s1600/DSC_0106_907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipFimS_EBXKb2-2ms-zph-rJKqlk6m3sMUl4Tuzd84Z7-bIrDAHbj1KDOvW-1Qa01Uvroye3A6R-DNQ9oV9iRE2x9ehVq861JHff9cRcYIvqAZDcE7Vv5iu0ja6gXwQIxtht5Of2exKYF6/s320/DSC_0106_907.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGnX-SPmIDc7S0L7pHaWGAtwqLeg-lnIj1SuCESW6f-6WA8TdV4DUUij2ESkr9XMzDUudlC37t-NETmoMHpA6JoVj8P3W5IdsG5kVTCZalCCSMLwakDkbpFOF18et47Cd7vnDp2ZYQj6VG/s1600/DSC_0110_908.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGnX-SPmIDc7S0L7pHaWGAtwqLeg-lnIj1SuCESW6f-6WA8TdV4DUUij2ESkr9XMzDUudlC37t-NETmoMHpA6JoVj8P3W5IdsG5kVTCZalCCSMLwakDkbpFOF18et47Cd7vnDp2ZYQj6VG/s320/DSC_0110_908.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Why, yes, I'd love a pillow.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCnMvB-vZ7VYNPA1O56zr8iQUnudO4fpd1WMUp_zdspH8qvrIKYHntCOMHyoRwVTwSbb8MNyjKiqtiBVWhR5CUb291hWTv1vPnqmyLTWHezzQuHUf1GuU7PzHRsILRMNC3ptxN28MlQvy/s1600/DSC_0113_909.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCnMvB-vZ7VYNPA1O56zr8iQUnudO4fpd1WMUp_zdspH8qvrIKYHntCOMHyoRwVTwSbb8MNyjKiqtiBVWhR5CUb291hWTv1vPnqmyLTWHezzQuHUf1GuU7PzHRsILRMNC3ptxN28MlQvy/s320/DSC_0113_909.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8qoccUjA-QpAmFvraFaUK5ELJOMgNy89zuicfX4iaFxo9QroYB44EyOb-O5a3clDUzaoEvjiLyGZuDosG79hWq-RGF15sV7Ffwy_iQYgKrZ3EIcsHkWIUs9NvIbvRCRokITkQrpZu5vSO/s1600/DSC_0117_911.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8qoccUjA-QpAmFvraFaUK5ELJOMgNy89zuicfX4iaFxo9QroYB44EyOb-O5a3clDUzaoEvjiLyGZuDosG79hWq-RGF15sV7Ffwy_iQYgKrZ3EIcsHkWIUs9NvIbvRCRokITkQrpZu5vSO/s320/DSC_0117_911.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieavxSt18PjmjH-TfqD_COatgP98eCjMJzPwg6JIeLg7LiB6HUduRV52iSHcZjOf6F2K9W_-TMwSuPQa3Yv0WUWrPaWycG0iXd3eO1KEbYCogMm-fQ5jyawycUerN8FXPgVzVAnEchEjgF/s1600/DSC_0121_910.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieavxSt18PjmjH-TfqD_COatgP98eCjMJzPwg6JIeLg7LiB6HUduRV52iSHcZjOf6F2K9W_-TMwSuPQa3Yv0WUWrPaWycG0iXd3eO1KEbYCogMm-fQ5jyawycUerN8FXPgVzVAnEchEjgF/s320/DSC_0121_910.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: white;">Still too hot!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKNs0-lGa0LOeqNDVyebUl-ErMjMimIWPUKe8Qt0lNfVXWWCFBtvkk5JjJOHncMPCDI1wg0t01ZuNXU2cx7GKTYajszt4dzVls1VIPOYoc8wiV781m4zAvNYc_YQ2mg-JZr_SxRyXfVJgE/s1600/DSC_0127_912.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKNs0-lGa0LOeqNDVyebUl-ErMjMimIWPUKe8Qt0lNfVXWWCFBtvkk5JjJOHncMPCDI1wg0t01ZuNXU2cx7GKTYajszt4dzVls1VIPOYoc8wiV781m4zAvNYc_YQ2mg-JZr_SxRyXfVJgE/s320/DSC_0127_912.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Hey, lady! Can a buffalo get a little water over here?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqcfKbflVqo2UdXcRftaaQ9a-K6kYpAdPQDjw1lpQV5_6fNUN2odRqlYh59RlH9bt6dA_4qwVgIWfdKG8hUgrLnMO9Y1FmZsp1686bFLqGeXptVNmn8aPg12GcUMwH44VSQupWlIBhx3ew/s1600/DSC_0008_914.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqcfKbflVqo2UdXcRftaaQ9a-K6kYpAdPQDjw1lpQV5_6fNUN2odRqlYh59RlH9bt6dA_4qwVgIWfdKG8hUgrLnMO9Y1FmZsp1686bFLqGeXptVNmn8aPg12GcUMwH44VSQupWlIBhx3ew/s320/DSC_0008_914.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_W0fB3WYdY31Cqyb9jd7zQYe910XHyneqXM97wLnt3niEohDu5n8-PX06FfYPtcRSs9YqHpJskFPFhwmQQPgMQIt41vS7xvvEcBAqPbEsavORgTLc9M1v3ceRuuzzmZfCOH00HzZ1EgzV/s1600/DSC_0012_915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_W0fB3WYdY31Cqyb9jd7zQYe910XHyneqXM97wLnt3niEohDu5n8-PX06FfYPtcRSs9YqHpJskFPFhwmQQPgMQIt41vS7xvvEcBAqPbEsavORgTLc9M1v3ceRuuzzmZfCOH00HzZ1EgzV/s320/DSC_0012_915.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
At last, suitably refreshed and ready to be social.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ_TZgbWfyeyprpFkrIdjs6f6-iOycfaPE8m1kCS7qnGvkyWORS457xo6S70pbEKgovnuGx6TxtzVcgky1seY4byd94p7pk4Koi9xVDSOkXKsdYOC1RYLFr4R7xA8_hmw8D_ETbP8V4W76/s1600/DSC_0013_916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ_TZgbWfyeyprpFkrIdjs6f6-iOycfaPE8m1kCS7qnGvkyWORS457xo6S70pbEKgovnuGx6TxtzVcgky1seY4byd94p7pk4Koi9xVDSOkXKsdYOC1RYLFr4R7xA8_hmw8D_ETbP8V4W76/s320/DSC_0013_916.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
You seem nice.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzrfZzT004nEN-Bt4vtDuBN5wUM4SoMG9FO-KMBweU9cGL5Yt5DeIkiRHVHYolrgNHP_IHloovVyHIjwRn68z_BX5ObgmafQ9u9RW4GEXIy__oeaN1cVAOdD7d-uEFYwFfJnEdAbfDLRUa/s1600/DSC_0038_917.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzrfZzT004nEN-Bt4vtDuBN5wUM4SoMG9FO-KMBweU9cGL5Yt5DeIkiRHVHYolrgNHP_IHloovVyHIjwRn68z_BX5ObgmafQ9u9RW4GEXIy__oeaN1cVAOdD7d-uEFYwFfJnEdAbfDLRUa/s320/DSC_0038_917.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Everyone should have some mud.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjgz3LrfzkD5gXZUtYsFz4J4nASdW7IP8N8wSncs4ckRvlNZC4Us004nOsic9YUqy3KgpobVGww7fGMyJhRzlTBsx5s7x4tKW4kCC2qX_Ha3YAizxyJSHJv8TWqdAOPDwmG0XRjDxwMvCX/s1600/DSC_0050_918.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjgz3LrfzkD5gXZUtYsFz4J4nASdW7IP8N8wSncs4ckRvlNZC4Us004nOsic9YUqy3KgpobVGww7fGMyJhRzlTBsx5s7x4tKW4kCC2qX_Ha3YAizxyJSHJv8TWqdAOPDwmG0XRjDxwMvCX/s320/DSC_0050_918.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Here, let me help clean you up a bit.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWtEueIG-gxc5AA5cWeYWet37wR39NCixmucMYbpPtbdRALVqlmoBJcsZG2E69JA9jmYBRsMqJGm43fMSgVPzHGVjpF0qVNOvZaz3jRmRQKwPBDijjBCRL23_ctVKToZZbW3zRi6N4fj0N/s1600/DSC_0051_919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWtEueIG-gxc5AA5cWeYWet37wR39NCixmucMYbpPtbdRALVqlmoBJcsZG2E69JA9jmYBRsMqJGm43fMSgVPzHGVjpF0qVNOvZaz3jRmRQKwPBDijjBCRL23_ctVKToZZbW3zRi6N4fj0N/s320/DSC_0051_919.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoMmsMR52yhRcXCM2VZiuFiWuO4DhSkZLNPkgWBOE_DZDqmp6lyOMo8-TPgiVW8vNUHD_ydVIYGJsin5KydKab7imSTj4wzNGwgJMCcDc6laRNN79MifpwONjZ2DGV_qcRP7XnSChgjL1c/s1600/DSC_0055_920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoMmsMR52yhRcXCM2VZiuFiWuO4DhSkZLNPkgWBOE_DZDqmp6lyOMo8-TPgiVW8vNUHD_ydVIYGJsin5KydKab7imSTj4wzNGwgJMCcDc6laRNN79MifpwONjZ2DGV_qcRP7XnSChgjL1c/s320/DSC_0055_920.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I've got next!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgySLVenzVpNHffdp83jXBqUN9AZqP3e5CXr1f5Kikm42viM0YoMoNIc2cagNuyhjG3Y4He2gLz2qUcVVfndLP1ZOhpOApw0qryQIIwQyBsIseuJdbR55Draemvzbfw9slzXAiY5QLDyGhy/s1600/DSC_0067_921.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgySLVenzVpNHffdp83jXBqUN9AZqP3e5CXr1f5Kikm42viM0YoMoNIc2cagNuyhjG3Y4He2gLz2qUcVVfndLP1ZOhpOApw0qryQIIwQyBsIseuJdbR55Draemvzbfw9slzXAiY5QLDyGhy/s320/DSC_0067_921.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Fine, you run on ahead. I'm going to enjoy having the wallow all to myself.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGCbJg-7SUcgi27-Wmja9ztFFemRsgrUROpJ2VO2FS9Z7TSTN078UdoomDAJW7AjEK2rdDgYRh2vuwXFHYirTFZqoJK_l3O5HHX6E5UbABbFYL4LWNh7XJMeRpwsQ3kpsoORkbYWFbAUg8/s1600/DSC_0071_922.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGCbJg-7SUcgi27-Wmja9ztFFemRsgrUROpJ2VO2FS9Z7TSTN078UdoomDAJW7AjEK2rdDgYRh2vuwXFHYirTFZqoJK_l3O5HHX6E5UbABbFYL4LWNh7XJMeRpwsQ3kpsoORkbYWFbAUg8/s320/DSC_0071_922.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-77244141572257962542012-06-11T22:43:00.000-04:002012-06-12T12:19:20.958-04:00Those Magnificent MenWe're going off topic today. No food. No farming. Just one fantastic flying machine:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFUdSH2hyiW-mg_hzFtfm0suvQbRJnpMdkJHzkRyTwm8HTL_dUl_5ytvwtb9pGhW5Gy4vMNsyeLoypOvpQd2yCXv2ndWXKwHuBIF5OyqwrKpOXAWHClm2FHfv1N3KFTt3HkBV_3s63PaW5/s1600/DSC_0094_824.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFUdSH2hyiW-mg_hzFtfm0suvQbRJnpMdkJHzkRyTwm8HTL_dUl_5ytvwtb9pGhW5Gy4vMNsyeLoypOvpQd2yCXv2ndWXKwHuBIF5OyqwrKpOXAWHClm2FHfv1N3KFTt3HkBV_3s63PaW5/s320/DSC_0094_824.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Meet the Ford Tri-Motor airplane a.k.a., the Tin Goose. Born in 1929 and manufactured by Ford--yes, that Ford Motor Company--this aircraft was the first all-enclosed passenger plane. Although its flying speed of 90mph isn't much by today's standards, it was a huge improvement over traveling by car on dirt roads at speeds of 30mph. And it was much better than flying in an open-cockpit bi-plane. So why the interest in this plane? It was in Asheville over the weekend courtesy of the <a href="http://www.eaa.org/">Experimental Aircraft Association</a> and I got to take a ride.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7MJ1O6_bGNxRhRJwQ5kFlC06w6f1QwckSppf3YzW-7zrWgR5VBV2bsKquQ_tbOYvKsVVgrPKQt0BlFXHnjnY2mLkdb3MSIS2aVZy8TDC7HIZDUBxjg7S_jXD3_e_aQlfowgCEno29s6v8/s1600/DSC_0082_819.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7MJ1O6_bGNxRhRJwQ5kFlC06w6f1QwckSppf3YzW-7zrWgR5VBV2bsKquQ_tbOYvKsVVgrPKQt0BlFXHnjnY2mLkdb3MSIS2aVZy8TDC7HIZDUBxjg7S_jXD3_e_aQlfowgCEno29s6v8/s320/DSC_0082_819.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
This particular plane started as a passenger plane for Eastern Airlines, then did service in Cuba during the 1930s when the Great Depression curtailed demand for passenger plane travel in the US. It later saw service back in the US hauling smoke jumpers to fight forest fires out west. The EAA bought the plane in the 1970s and restored it to its former glory, complete with leather seats and intricate wooden inlays on the cabin walls. With air travel being such a chore these days, I couldn't resist the chance to get a glimpse of what it might have been in the glamour days.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStqJk9uuHoEJFE5AQ7O39HVAKJYHl5oqgiJ_sE3-R4Tz1EkXbJg7HHGOEP5FPDS5DR2El9J6Osf3Vr1mdNPZnfARXiYFNgsbbYWxC7f1ecxAeNz6_azChMkEInSIU6vPx1VZCSsGCco5L/s1600/DSC_0083_820.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStqJk9uuHoEJFE5AQ7O39HVAKJYHl5oqgiJ_sE3-R4Tz1EkXbJg7HHGOEP5FPDS5DR2El9J6Osf3Vr1mdNPZnfARXiYFNgsbbYWxC7f1ecxAeNz6_azChMkEInSIU6vPx1VZCSsGCco5L/s320/DSC_0083_820.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
As the daughter of a pilot, I've always loved flying. Dad needed to log a certain number of hours every year to keep his license current, so when he wasn't giving flight lessons to students, he'd just go up on his own. And if I was lucky, he'd take me along for the ride. I probably didn't go as often as I think I did but the sense memory of flying is so strong in me, it's as if I did it all the time. Even though we always flew small, modern aircraft like the one below, I found myself really craving the chance to fly vintage.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_T6-4jdlLZqRpEHQCwNmAEHTBCiMxRpuQlE-sqQHi32ZNv_dRpxBhD8rbo-3bLqjQv3vNeQCIBWN9F87UDPnTxxl6IRAy6-e7coJm1qkN8H0iS-AnXg0W23xfSQnIjhZFhUPlK7TW71cq/s1600/DSC_0107_830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_T6-4jdlLZqRpEHQCwNmAEHTBCiMxRpuQlE-sqQHi32ZNv_dRpxBhD8rbo-3bLqjQv3vNeQCIBWN9F87UDPnTxxl6IRAy6-e7coJm1qkN8H0iS-AnXg0W23xfSQnIjhZFhUPlK7TW71cq/s320/DSC_0107_830.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Probably it was the indoctrination into the cult of vintage aircraft which I received at an early age when accompanying my father to the EAA Fly-In in Oshkosh, WI. We'd spend hours going up and down the rows of vintage planes with my dad telling me in loving detail about which ones he'd flown. I had a particular fondness for the Curtiss Jenny. Maybe because it was bright yellow or maybe something about the long, slender fuselage caught my eye. I hope it wasn't just 'cause it had a girl's name. Anyhow, turns out, I still get a thrill from a good-looking plane.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTMwi9piREohjAU9tSwrzkbPq4Y25xglNyY2RaoByKPwX8lxxIv6umAtVk7z4CbvBH9NL41PxEBiW4k0u2qvO9cdj6ESHqXXrc-sz6LEo2VXm9Gnw8dCo4ZdHlbDidSy-dGFoBLvh3kT7q/s1600/DSC_0096_825.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTMwi9piREohjAU9tSwrzkbPq4Y25xglNyY2RaoByKPwX8lxxIv6umAtVk7z4CbvBH9NL41PxEBiW4k0u2qvO9cdj6ESHqXXrc-sz6LEo2VXm9Gnw8dCo4ZdHlbDidSy-dGFoBLvh3kT7q/s320/DSC_0096_825.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Something about the way the plane pivots about on it's rear wheel when turning is so damn graceful that it makes me forgive the plane's tin can exterior. Built for power, the mighty engines on this craft got the plane aloft in a ridiculously short span of time and length of runway.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrIgTdUD4ytLzTjKPo7zbYJla7ptB6BDy6LzVF-Mbpla7j68cqeVwmm68Hphzk-ntOiGNgJ61aPcyrmEH1MVQzDoOLVfO8sLyiZUd6yLzQ87RZdqqfQSyTeRJZFKFKUBgoYtaNdLMNzKYY/s1600/DSC_0092_823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrIgTdUD4ytLzTjKPo7zbYJla7ptB6BDy6LzVF-Mbpla7j68cqeVwmm68Hphzk-ntOiGNgJ61aPcyrmEH1MVQzDoOLVfO8sLyiZUd6yLzQ87RZdqqfQSyTeRJZFKFKUBgoYtaNdLMNzKYY/s320/DSC_0092_823.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSkdqir9KUfJxuZm5a8V54fSQ9uMZjO6S-dFxDjHEZNptbe_Ms6bhvWvbsCj2ji4bT8yJUckYvC2Fm53g76u1N7OXAMf30A7veKwbpU38gNgRo2PvhYXX9w_BOspM74DN1GsPaXKOmrhNF/s1600/DSC_0099_826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSkdqir9KUfJxuZm5a8V54fSQ9uMZjO6S-dFxDjHEZNptbe_Ms6bhvWvbsCj2ji4bT8yJUckYvC2Fm53g76u1N7OXAMf30A7veKwbpU38gNgRo2PvhYXX9w_BOspM74DN1GsPaXKOmrhNF/s320/DSC_0099_826.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTaNYxg8idbx3aqdMhLwfvesqyWLgbDxo46YDvIVgd5eZtjTWfP4QTg3kc4wXmTyTaxsDgl2P27A3V5dichI7J1FbN5oMvIbLR7-nO6nRXjYn_0FBsQPtIshx53upptx1Y-AMcliF6Kd9_/s1600/DSC_0100_827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTaNYxg8idbx3aqdMhLwfvesqyWLgbDxo46YDvIVgd5eZtjTWfP4QTg3kc4wXmTyTaxsDgl2P27A3V5dichI7J1FbN5oMvIbLR7-nO6nRXjYn_0FBsQPtIshx53upptx1Y-AMcliF6Kd9_/s320/DSC_0100_827.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSDE87ktY5ZV4e0E14kU2efqyfLcuTg_7isM6A084d-s65qjLjbLDK4SRnSBHMspJiLE19BlKAg3iGMcF94NPPWH2jwfnvfLhAoDFG9o0zQCbJM-cJGyBJn817gLlCXkJzE-pntGiyNrDz/s1600/DSC_0101_828.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSDE87ktY5ZV4e0E14kU2efqyfLcuTg_7isM6A084d-s65qjLjbLDK4SRnSBHMspJiLE19BlKAg3iGMcF94NPPWH2jwfnvfLhAoDFG9o0zQCbJM-cJGyBJn817gLlCXkJzE-pntGiyNrDz/s320/DSC_0101_828.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I managed to snag the seat directly behind the pilot. One lucky guy got to sit in the co-pilot's seat but the other seven of us all had window seats in the main cabin. Yes, we did have to have the FAA-mandated safety lecture before leaving the ground. No tray tables to stow, but we did have to fasten seatbelts and be informed about the location of the fire extinguisher and the escape hatch in the cockpit.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSzB9iUws5jdmvCnvWyB5J6d6QC0yMACBkPKRS66C3bWs7aYqMhy_x60Tk6zyZb4AfuxWHJvkirrX73dNNrRF4dxAE5htUIjQK4WlDHPHzeopIRnW3TFjVz5eZhjrOnxHtYgzJJwyiCu5S/s1600/DSC_0130_832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSzB9iUws5jdmvCnvWyB5J6d6QC0yMACBkPKRS66C3bWs7aYqMhy_x60Tk6zyZb4AfuxWHJvkirrX73dNNrRF4dxAE5htUIjQK4WlDHPHzeopIRnW3TFjVz5eZhjrOnxHtYgzJJwyiCu5S/s320/DSC_0130_832.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Our 20-minute flight took us over Asheville and gave some stunning views of the town and surrounding mountains. I kept finding my eyes going to the cockpit to marvel at the arrangement of the controls e.g., the switch for starting the engines was underneath the co-pilot's seat. There was also the bright blue Ford logo on the controls that just made me smile because it seemed so out of place.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63RF9U-slJNgsNgJ07vsrK9dzH8fm0TK5s3DYm86r-fr_m7zslxUpKIrMtgf6CXdh3KNG60cVfx4GcEX8UQfjFXlNp5o46llae70nkrfT8ERi_LR9Vzkkyh6G5HrnWIQ2ZasNF0i-0sRJ/s1600/DSC_0126_831.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63RF9U-slJNgsNgJ07vsrK9dzH8fm0TK5s3DYm86r-fr_m7zslxUpKIrMtgf6CXdh3KNG60cVfx4GcEX8UQfjFXlNp5o46llae70nkrfT8ERi_LR9Vzkkyh6G5HrnWIQ2ZasNF0i-0sRJ/s320/DSC_0126_831.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEtwLifth0tYCHEZi9g52L8hE0T1pbDUW-dQRJRSiZ6I_tsWbsDWixPLfxJrOkOkiNb8cQrbqmkhFaRIh0r5A6CcyMDGY_HOUIZ1WDucBW5GDd_i9SM4uJP3pijbriYTr2i5lqbV5YRENi/s1600/DSC_0144_836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEtwLifth0tYCHEZi9g52L8hE0T1pbDUW-dQRJRSiZ6I_tsWbsDWixPLfxJrOkOkiNb8cQrbqmkhFaRIh0r5A6CcyMDGY_HOUIZ1WDucBW5GDd_i9SM4uJP3pijbriYTr2i5lqbV5YRENi/s320/DSC_0144_836.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJcWl5qQxqvWet8CXP1D6e48g5MkIG4R2-k9J5J1IGpuu9Nv9VBlV3YeA0pyCXw5NcB60sxc6jBXe7Nb_SVasBmgimGoEFBOHCpQIzL0yIQN51v6a9Hfi6M9Ach0zIG23_pxm_1ZBAeM4V/s1600/DSC_0141_835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJcWl5qQxqvWet8CXP1D6e48g5MkIG4R2-k9J5J1IGpuu9Nv9VBlV3YeA0pyCXw5NcB60sxc6jBXe7Nb_SVasBmgimGoEFBOHCpQIzL0yIQN51v6a9Hfi6M9Ach0zIG23_pxm_1ZBAeM4V/s320/DSC_0141_835.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj23PrYAy-0cZ1xtk4XLu9K2zAvqqWPRmnZP77g0Pi-M3-5aQUGAZuhhsfAKTuc51DBsvSYwOWMw_UI8nXxDQpLsHXC2oVxaRDnUCAIOl34VNDYzjUuhyphenhyphenOkXaf2V79U9cmY3cAIA-PmrQya/s1600/DSC_0132_833.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj23PrYAy-0cZ1xtk4XLu9K2zAvqqWPRmnZP77g0Pi-M3-5aQUGAZuhhsfAKTuc51DBsvSYwOWMw_UI8nXxDQpLsHXC2oVxaRDnUCAIOl34VNDYzjUuhyphenhyphenOkXaf2V79U9cmY3cAIA-PmrQya/s320/DSC_0132_833.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
The pictures don't do justice to the views we had that day. Clouds were coming in and it was getting a bit hazy so you'll have to take my word for how vibrant the colors were. Our pilot made sure we had a good look or three at the Biltmore Estate:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMZc9AV0QIBq1smXzdvMSndiihbwplCQRyy57Qj_h4jy3hDqyDyYLGrvnZym-TyLjze81fJXrq8_1uPPllsRYKqxnxR9JkuzQc34KNCp3dXsLCQJUvf9U9FmcsfQTCR8-mIt_4rd167mnm/s1600/DSC_0147_837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMZc9AV0QIBq1smXzdvMSndiihbwplCQRyy57Qj_h4jy3hDqyDyYLGrvnZym-TyLjze81fJXrq8_1uPPllsRYKqxnxR9JkuzQc34KNCp3dXsLCQJUvf9U9FmcsfQTCR8-mIt_4rd167mnm/s320/DSC_0147_837.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwLbO5aqJPP6w_y2BDfHpXYJ2FTh0sCX7JVQ8bMaaSkAGDthda0hI83bqrtciaKjEAfZV9hEN7rYkDI8Mk-qQaO3VyDhD-HVNZsLG6pKhariSb_7PrCg6Vq_Bkhiz0jaDdrxBQoLWkcCQc/s1600/DSC_0149_838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwLbO5aqJPP6w_y2BDfHpXYJ2FTh0sCX7JVQ8bMaaSkAGDthda0hI83bqrtciaKjEAfZV9hEN7rYkDI8Mk-qQaO3VyDhD-HVNZsLG6pKhariSb_7PrCg6Vq_Bkhiz0jaDdrxBQoLWkcCQc/s320/DSC_0149_838.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrhqh1OLdrfTooPikLarAxBNIeHacC6OSu7z0Gdg59oq4gr1fiwlGrK_1s_nfKQ6IVp4wYw-W_ijwSA07eM9zOxmXWp7YZJYlxUI1f1WZj02wjZoTZb6xhI-sN5WWDmZEMe6gptms328T0/s1600/DSC_0168_842.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrhqh1OLdrfTooPikLarAxBNIeHacC6OSu7z0Gdg59oq4gr1fiwlGrK_1s_nfKQ6IVp4wYw-W_ijwSA07eM9zOxmXWp7YZJYlxUI1f1WZj02wjZoTZb6xhI-sN5WWDmZEMe6gptms328T0/s320/DSC_0168_842.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0F8Xmob5phwZlElWAglj8sF9O15rDqVWU38BNqSuT5MBkJXX84h7ISsVwfUuakxvnC8LCwxOJrR-WUwg0XfAQcPmwCCBV00KknczbBYLLUV7aGIPCe7t008cpJxUiTWv1f47IzhgsR9Oe/s1600/DSC_0172_843.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0F8Xmob5phwZlElWAglj8sF9O15rDqVWU38BNqSuT5MBkJXX84h7ISsVwfUuakxvnC8LCwxOJrR-WUwg0XfAQcPmwCCBV00KknczbBYLLUV7aGIPCe7t008cpJxUiTWv1f47IzhgsR9Oe/s320/DSC_0172_843.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And a gander at historic McCormick field, home to the Asheville Tourists. Fans of the film <u>Bull Durham</u> may know this as the place where Crash hit that dinger that let him finally retire from the game.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjADzSXeWz3DpPIxI-_NVNOu9KP8mhLVlrkd9dPtbpqrNdKf9kaukF8WEv2VIs0CrcXfSNnWtxWXzm0_8Ra1f9MUeUR0n2Qism-PqU2a2LLXcfSr8MKaGYwCgZvDxu_4_7hjeGrbX9EikyN/s1600/DSC_0158_840.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjADzSXeWz3DpPIxI-_NVNOu9KP8mhLVlrkd9dPtbpqrNdKf9kaukF8WEv2VIs0CrcXfSNnWtxWXzm0_8Ra1f9MUeUR0n2Qism-PqU2a2LLXcfSr8MKaGYwCgZvDxu_4_7hjeGrbX9EikyN/s320/DSC_0158_840.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
AB-Tech Community College and my classroom building (Rhododendron) down in front.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFUst7d5AmeFIq7Y1kgHXkvlXiEy7RfEtKI1SYSfCODKgWYqxrXzzkja1vmevcj2u3H624wW_fBJU5W3ghMtG1Pf8NUhRP5MojedySEbfxps2ZguugCNfacfC9rLUty0VIN8aZxEQfX580/s1600/DSC_0153_839.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFUst7d5AmeFIq7Y1kgHXkvlXiEy7RfEtKI1SYSfCODKgWYqxrXzzkja1vmevcj2u3H624wW_fBJU5W3ghMtG1Pf8NUhRP5MojedySEbfxps2ZguugCNfacfC9rLUty0VIN8aZxEQfX580/s320/DSC_0153_839.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Downtown with the red-roofed Grove Park Inn nestled in the mountains toward the back of the picture:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiamIEj6heWVu_Pijzw117k0F3mRRDk1qpPZR1c27tRs6OjoSthceAQEdOMVxQ8EM0PW0GfBKs0xGXHWL_mr_k_TgIVjZ6XBXgTDZF5aCMOxVhpHi3DMUO50DDByu52xIisWb_5nsIpC8Gw/s1600/DSC_0161_844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiamIEj6heWVu_Pijzw117k0F3mRRDk1qpPZR1c27tRs6OjoSthceAQEdOMVxQ8EM0PW0GfBKs0xGXHWL_mr_k_TgIVjZ6XBXgTDZF5aCMOxVhpHi3DMUO50DDByu52xIisWb_5nsIpC8Gw/s320/DSC_0161_844.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And what's a beautiful day in Asheville without a bunch of kayakers out on the French Broad?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfoU8xjMk0Ga0OWGJTIyJZFJWnwV_bQqJf7MeeiQlM8C44nDvJs7vsSIoNj_33xF-r3tnoQ6r3stQvCNo55ixKwfbMEocqZtMqHOxxnItXjj0vtU6wfxdal9jFvWaR5UML5WLMa2hSzLgY/s1600/DSC_0179_845.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfoU8xjMk0Ga0OWGJTIyJZFJWnwV_bQqJf7MeeiQlM8C44nDvJs7vsSIoNj_33xF-r3tnoQ6r3stQvCNo55ixKwfbMEocqZtMqHOxxnItXjj0vtU6wfxdal9jFvWaR5UML5WLMa2hSzLgY/s320/DSC_0179_845.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
In trying to get a shot of the plane's interior, I managed to capture the demographic profile of Asheville: equal parts retiree and hipster.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_bt2zBn1bINfmgq9OCsvuAYv-fsiA1mVu4RvsrEjhNa_M4ooTkSQQh0lORt5tPM5RRemJ4LAWX2XPH9vbYT1ZgLzf_WF0tlNMhv7OK1Lj7syFgTxVtPMQgWyKeYeS9y-YX-JRQTOfiY1G/s1600/DSC_0184_846.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_bt2zBn1bINfmgq9OCsvuAYv-fsiA1mVu4RvsrEjhNa_M4ooTkSQQh0lORt5tPM5RRemJ4LAWX2XPH9vbYT1ZgLzf_WF0tlNMhv7OK1Lj7syFgTxVtPMQgWyKeYeS9y-YX-JRQTOfiY1G/s320/DSC_0184_846.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Back on the ground, we got to observe the refueling process which gives self-serve a whole new meaning:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDOiCKLoJLnQd51ce0b-cE-BlWuV-r2Xssm7msGBLq_uasEMIN23l6l6Ba0Ycwes4Z3UNeXID69SdA0Umlr3VTL8TUc9XknJSJghXfUXcqY2wAH6-PoLcy0vSccrRdBT2dDiwK_UvfCeAc/s1600/DSC_0190_848.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDOiCKLoJLnQd51ce0b-cE-BlWuV-r2Xssm7msGBLq_uasEMIN23l6l6Ba0Ycwes4Z3UNeXID69SdA0Umlr3VTL8TUc9XknJSJghXfUXcqY2wAH6-PoLcy0vSccrRdBT2dDiwK_UvfCeAc/s320/DSC_0190_848.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOkRA43waWGcuB3mbdIYk2A7jrcJf-0MyeKo8WjpTdxBmjDUxmvr0Mvp7kF10TtfNZIHMhFNRV8ytFFE4A7vUQSahsXtYWwdACvnvu4Jmdc3jIBSRF1h_uFVA7IZsUcgb3a7OatkDe_21f/s1600/DSC_0194_849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOkRA43waWGcuB3mbdIYk2A7jrcJf-0MyeKo8WjpTdxBmjDUxmvr0Mvp7kF10TtfNZIHMhFNRV8ytFFE4A7vUQSahsXtYWwdACvnvu4Jmdc3jIBSRF1h_uFVA7IZsUcgb3a7OatkDe_21f/s320/DSC_0194_849.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixZNFuC8_6dxBrYOE_7J4Ti17dV9bXsxCi_cVlQAZsGLZBL8UHZMrJut7egkOVa2frVi5gFKNF9pxT8UAx-57tyQF4NBKZGWq5T2Rbc0xt_OkU1Ufo8AbEhdln7mbpz_toX8tsbjfe4nzr/s1600/DSC_0196_850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixZNFuC8_6dxBrYOE_7J4Ti17dV9bXsxCi_cVlQAZsGLZBL8UHZMrJut7egkOVa2frVi5gFKNF9pxT8UAx-57tyQF4NBKZGWq5T2Rbc0xt_OkU1Ufo8AbEhdln7mbpz_toX8tsbjfe4nzr/s320/DSC_0196_850.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Magnificent. I highly recommend the experience if you ever get to Oshkosh, WI or the tin goose makes a trip to your town.Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-11179681860433636862012-06-08T21:58:00.000-04:002012-06-10T18:19:09.423-04:00Bad Buffs/Good BuffsOh how their ears must have been burning. I've been talking about the buffs to lots of people recently but I've neglected to post any recent photos. Nor have I been updating you on their antics. My bad. No, their bad. Well, it's complicated. And the ear burning is probably mites. Sigh.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgELJj8JLLLI1ab7ukDNhQxlh12f8h0CUPWKgpJwgluoeQpdeAFLGN5YX5qQZvN6Eu99tTqgr-cgruO582SBzi-8gHcgo6OhUYTxaXkaTLWXNgUSOIHy7rfSH_bh-QiLt2Uwc8srQN2RoC/s1600/DSC_0043_740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgELJj8JLLLI1ab7ukDNhQxlh12f8h0CUPWKgpJwgluoeQpdeAFLGN5YX5qQZvN6Eu99tTqgr-cgruO582SBzi-8gHcgo6OhUYTxaXkaTLWXNgUSOIHy7rfSH_bh-QiLt2Uwc8srQN2RoC/s320/DSC_0043_740.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
First, if you're new to the blog and want some background, check out these earlier posts: <a href="http://onemeatoneveg.blogspot.com/2010/12/why-buffalo-they-can-walk-on-water.html">Why buffalo? They can walk on water.</a>, some early pictures: <a href="http://onemeatoneveg.blogspot.com/2010/07/buffalo-pix.html">Buffalo pix</a>, and see them getting bigger last summer: <a href="http://onemeatoneveg.blogspot.com/2011/08/fluffy-buffies.html">Fluffy Buffies</a>. Now for some shots from earlier this spring:<br />
<br />
One buff....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil8FtXtlQGxAWbWfM92SRWstedTQHUOofBWodtQU6uzqBKlAuk3w-6wx48EmjrjEbw6zAJb5knFf-T2R40Fd2kuB6N-9V0r0Fg68YEYTc69n1YeF7d5q8XYdlQSi62iwuWDSjCNxvYug63/s1600/DSC_0007_783.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil8FtXtlQGxAWbWfM92SRWstedTQHUOofBWodtQU6uzqBKlAuk3w-6wx48EmjrjEbw6zAJb5knFf-T2R40Fd2kuB6N-9V0r0Fg68YEYTc69n1YeF7d5q8XYdlQSi62iwuWDSjCNxvYug63/s320/DSC_0007_783.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
...two buffs....<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGwSnakHCSl1TyjUyuknfpgGju86TGJkSSUybIGvEhs0YGzKPvwmuzzD93-csld0DkNHgEa7DhtX2lwS7ooB9dlmYPQfXAnkCr13lTH7D9RmzgN73LKBgHV9GT8ep8mfp4syN78Ue1x74v/s1600/DSC_0009_786.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGwSnakHCSl1TyjUyuknfpgGju86TGJkSSUybIGvEhs0YGzKPvwmuzzD93-csld0DkNHgEa7DhtX2lwS7ooB9dlmYPQfXAnkCr13lTH7D9RmzgN73LKBgHV9GT8ep8mfp4syN78Ue1x74v/s320/DSC_0009_786.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
...three buffs....<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlvgAHErSOIVCAAYYxp8Hbw4pxBjPbcOn07Pfpxom_CmNVIWJcRb-EkfV2MSSaB9OuFWJKUZySeY4JjD8eBE_TdIqYws-2dD-TqME2H87A1aeZAKr-oy_Y2EuBQ4YP9iKIGjnDhATEZWBG/s1600/DSC_0011_787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlvgAHErSOIVCAAYYxp8Hbw4pxBjPbcOn07Pfpxom_CmNVIWJcRb-EkfV2MSSaB9OuFWJKUZySeY4JjD8eBE_TdIqYws-2dD-TqME2H87A1aeZAKr-oy_Y2EuBQ4YP9iKIGjnDhATEZWBG/s320/DSC_0011_787.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
...maxing and relaxing in the lower pasture. Note the popsicle trees in the background--conifers from which they've stripped all the lower needles and branches. If I pulled back the shot just a bit, you'd see what look like Christmas trees on very long sticks. Not that we're complaining. The trees weren't terribly healthy nor well-placed, so we're just as happy to have them used as rubbing posts. Plus, it makes for a kind of cheap topiary effect.<br />
<br />
And much better than what this bad boy got up to.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP8zd6eMBrmktsuyG1HckD08DHKz85rEQhF-Uupdorm0X7nZbQmb85xsPwf7YT_LSP1mw0Uz-HeTIHbp_O1lLQjFjPA6vTn27-Sgx6UpWj9evorkqufZOggsZg6I8EkqEMiQh-ZApADEF9/s1600/DSC_0056_773.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP8zd6eMBrmktsuyG1HckD08DHKz85rEQhF-Uupdorm0X7nZbQmb85xsPwf7YT_LSP1mw0Uz-HeTIHbp_O1lLQjFjPA6vTn27-Sgx6UpWj9evorkqufZOggsZg6I8EkqEMiQh-ZApADEF9/s320/DSC_0056_773.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
When last we spoke of Eschol, he had just taken another door off the barn. Over the spring, he completed his mission of removing all the barn doors. Not wanting to miss out on the full entertainment potential, however, he did not simply remove the doors from their very sturdy hinges. No, he also rolled each door down the hill and into the ditch. Often, with the framing post attached. Sure, easy for him. Not so easy for us to get them back up the hill and stowed in a safe place in the barn. The days I had to recover doors on my own gave me ample time to ponder the concept of leverage. But also to ponder the causes of my bull's bad behavior.<br />
<br />
I had started to dread the long walk to the barn each morning because I'd hear the telltale "thunk, thunk, thunk" that meant he had started on destroying a new target. After the doors, he decided that a more open floor plan for the lower level of the barn would be the way to go. After a few (mostly) non-essential support posts and a whole lotta stall components got knocked out, he got the whole crew banished from the barn. The weather was warm enough for it not to be an issue; I had simply hoped to give the grass more time to grow in the other pastures before turning them loose.<br />
<br />
Bad? Maybe. Well, definitely for the barn. But it occurred to me, that he might just be a frustrated bull. As spring went on, it became apparent that the girls were no longer entertaining his affections. Our fervent hope is that they both are pregnant and aren't just annoyed with boyo.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4TErplD8xoox9vm7QG9jjZpVG-cTkH5yCKEVLIhKcJqd4DjgBP15yumqi7M-eS3qB9QXVu-FiNWmDieLBUX_UYfimqLe20YTD2sltsF__J23YeJFM2bc60aXdWZOuwquIwqdlPEeGa3qb/s1600/DSC_0035_769.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4TErplD8xoox9vm7QG9jjZpVG-cTkH5yCKEVLIhKcJqd4DjgBP15yumqi7M-eS3qB9QXVu-FiNWmDieLBUX_UYfimqLe20YTD2sltsF__J23YeJFM2bc60aXdWZOuwquIwqdlPEeGa3qb/s320/DSC_0035_769.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
That might make me forgive him a little for busting into the lower barn and wreaking havoc in there. He, perhaps with some help from the girls, knocked out several posts and connected beams. Again, nothing structural, just some of the internal scaffolding for drying tobacco. The heavy cross beams didn't come down at both ends, so Jim had to go up on a ladder to cut them down. And that's how we saw the first rat snake of the season--when it was shaken off its perch by the chainsaw vibrations and bounced off Jim's head. Good times, good times.<br />
<br />
And Eschol isn't the only one to get in trouble. I'm pretty sure that Effie is to the electric fence what Eschol is to the barn. Since our good Catholic girl is forever kneeling down to get her head and incredibly stretchy neck under the wire to access the primo forage, she is my prime suspect in all fence-related matters.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBHrzlSRgEV8libBgg6l6ru15bGJd8QPg3Wty78r67tULNDEru6PXc4NUyhp217foGxX5NuMg1PUhQD9121ROfPguldygIuR_HaQ1RemAOZx1npGKIwz574o3Wyc9qpy6H8A1X2AOj7r7/s1600/DSC_0033_563.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBHrzlSRgEV8libBgg6l6ru15bGJd8QPg3Wty78r67tULNDEru6PXc4NUyhp217foGxX5NuMg1PUhQD9121ROfPguldygIuR_HaQ1RemAOZx1npGKIwz574o3Wyc9qpy6H8A1X2AOj7r7/s320/DSC_0033_563.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
On several occasions, I have walked out to one of the temporary pastures we refer to as the Repair Field only to find the single strand of wire on the ground. My best guess is that Effie misjudged where her horns were in relation to the wire when she backed up to change position and hooked the fence. Judging from where the wire landed and how the posts were flung about the field, I'm guessing she did not enjoy the experience. Fortunately, the buffs seem unwilling to cross the wire even when it's on the ground. One time, she must have gotten such a scare, that she blasted through the gate (also electric wire) and ran all the way back into the main pasture. The others followed. Despite the gates being open and there being tasty treats along the driveway, all three buffs stayed in the main pasture. That's what I mean when I say bad buffs/good buffs. They can cause a lot of trouble but their basic instincts are so good. I'd much rather repair a fence or a barn than have to go on a buffalo roundup in the creek or the neighborhood.Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-2455872034122247322012-06-07T17:20:00.000-04:002012-06-07T17:20:43.514-04:00Late Spring on the FarmSorry for the long radio silence. So much has happened in the past month: visitors, travel, serious health crises for loved ones, upheaval in the employment department, and some long-desired home renovations. Other than a failed attempt at expanding our landholdings here, most everything has turned out well thus far. Still, it felt like three Mays in one, so when the opportunity arose to blow off some steam at a college reunion, I took full advantage!<br />
<br />
I was only gone a few days but it seems like we tipped over from spring to summer while I was gone. Not the weather--it's actually cooler now than it was in May. No, this is the "oh, I give up" time when it becomes clear that the weeds and vines and unwanted saplings are going to grow faster than I can hack them down. So, we give up on making things look decent and focus on what's going well.<br />
<br />
In the garden, the sugar snaps have peaked, the lettuce is growing faster than I can eat it, and the chard and kales are as gorgeous as I've seen in years thanks to ample rain and frequent applications of Dipel to kill the cabbage loopers. Sadly, none of the edamame germinated and all but one of the fennel seedlings succumbed to greedy insects. Okra, as always, is on course to be the star of the garden. The mild winter meant many of last year's herbs overwintered along with several chard plants. All of those survivors are trying to flower and/or bolt much earlier than I'm accustomed to. It's odd to be doing growth suppression when I'm still planting and topping off the soil in the raised beds.<br />
<br />
This was the first year we were able to harvest asparagus. Unfortunately, the early warmth brought the spears up early and twice they were hit with a hard frost just as they and the leaves on the trees were emerging. We still got a few spears to taste but let most of it go in hopes of having a stronger patch next year. The apples were also decimated by the frosts. Warm weather a month ahead of schedule is great for me and the buffs but terrible for the fruit trees. They got hit right in the middle of blossoming. Just as well if we don't get apples this year--we still have a bathtub full of cider from the last pressing that needs to be bottled.<br />
<br />
The warm winter has produced a bumper crop of insects. I think this will go down in history as the most ticktastic year yet. And it's pretty chiggerific, too. The exceedingly bold grasshoppers in the garden look at me like, "You think this is a plague? Just you wait. You ain't seen nothing yet." Sigh.<br />
<br />
On the plus side, the grass is growing quickly, I've got hay in the barn already, and best of all, the black raspberries are starting to ripen. Mulberries and chanterelles can't be far behind. Our regular wildlife also seems to have benefitted from the mild winter. The great blue heron, red-shouldered hawks, pileated woodpecker,white-tailed deer, eastern king snake, and black rat snakes have all put in regular appearances along with some less-often seen critters like the indigo buntings and at least one juvenile beaver. And instead of our usual one kingfisher, we seem to have two. The buffs and the bees have been busy, too, but more about them in other posts.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4444710006625539032.post-71110091878294187182012-04-26T16:18:00.000-04:002012-04-26T16:18:50.616-04:00Strawberry and Labneh-Stuffed MorelsSometimes you just luck out. Although we had high hopes for finding morels this warm, rainy spring, life conspired to keep us from having much time to go foraging. We made one brave effort just as the spring ephemerals were popping up but despite our dedication that day (including crossing our still chilly creek and discovering the hard way that it is deceptively deep in places, then fighting through multiflora rose on steep slopes), none were to be found. I blame the deer.<br />
<br />
Then on Easter when we were walking up to do some work in the orchard, when we weren't even looking, there they were. A patch of morels where we had never before seen any. I walked right past, but fortunately, Jim spotted one and said "hey, isn't that a morel?" He didn't have to ask twice. Boy, did he score big points that day. I didn't bother to get the camera, I just scooped up all that I could find. Just enough for one meal but more than I'd ever found before.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZn0JTZ-VJa70jNVIWiwRNi7DOsPTELX0_qoTa5peVdfcQC3mLvdJGVG08eFF1nzrPcE3D3HuhZGX4C52a-hYbFKSjgJkOBsd3bnymSpTGmzJDTfPXg8B5PiXp70HHTJl4O1ZfJewqmQRC/s1600/DSC_0010_762.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZn0JTZ-VJa70jNVIWiwRNi7DOsPTELX0_qoTa5peVdfcQC3mLvdJGVG08eFF1nzrPcE3D3HuhZGX4C52a-hYbFKSjgJkOBsd3bnymSpTGmzJDTfPXg8B5PiXp70HHTJl4O1ZfJewqmQRC/s320/DSC_0010_762.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I have been saving up tons of morel recipes for that day all shroomers dream of: hitting the motherlode and finding hundreds of morels. Not that I'm greedy; it's just that all the recipes seem to call for more morels than I can find. Something about the happy hormones that were triggered by our find that day must have also tripped the creativity switch in my brain. Inspiration struck for the perfect appetizer: labneh-stuffed morels. I know a lot of folks stuff them with cream cheese, but I'm on a labneh kick. It serves the same function texturally but doesn't feel so excessively rich. I still feel like I'm eating something comforting but reasonably healthy. The slight tang makes it seem like a grown-up version of cream cheese. And being yogurt-based, it doesn't trigger those lactose problems that come with middle age. The only drawback: it can be hard to find in a small town (Ashevillains: find it at The Fresh Market).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj11Q62sUGW3FpGabGochGEvFgxsKyNx2TbfWWU452ep_k-GIjnKZ0q3t2JRHLp67DDzqVGPW1fbn1FpaoiJWRr7-_dPoXsnr53MyRL1F-1yEKDPH2cP3tGnZ41xKzOdMyub2BJyVWFrIgx/s1600/DSC_0007_761.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj11Q62sUGW3FpGabGochGEvFgxsKyNx2TbfWWU452ep_k-GIjnKZ0q3t2JRHLp67DDzqVGPW1fbn1FpaoiJWRr7-_dPoXsnr53MyRL1F-1yEKDPH2cP3tGnZ41xKzOdMyub2BJyVWFrIgx/s320/DSC_0007_761.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I sliced the morels in half, then sauteed them briefly in butter (always cook your mushrooms). I then piped the labneh into each half (by the way, if your morel is not hollow inside, it's not a morel). Thanks to the lovely old farmer from South Carolina who sells his fruit directly to diners at local restaurants (talk about farm-to-table), we had a gallon of gorgeous, tasty strawberries left from our Friday night pizza run. On to the labneh they went.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_vtvijAJKw-kKBNBBwoiqJl9tCDNFt5XqJ2Ao5F7IJLOZ5GbXn2NFkpLyZXGaa8bfEyJqDpTByjPqUs8Vg3HNoE7jSdA5eU3praQBlj9SGBucDTRDEbARG1gi-2ZAnJtoxU_emx6GyqpZ/s1600/DSC_0020_764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_vtvijAJKw-kKBNBBwoiqJl9tCDNFt5XqJ2Ao5F7IJLOZ5GbXn2NFkpLyZXGaa8bfEyJqDpTByjPqUs8Vg3HNoE7jSdA5eU3praQBlj9SGBucDTRDEbARG1gi-2ZAnJtoxU_emx6GyqpZ/s320/DSC_0020_764.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Yum! Decadent and healthy at the same time. Sometimes life is so freaking good!Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12715698548155245090noreply@blogger.com0