Mystery Weeds!

I have mentioned that someone has to walk the fence daily to make sure it is still attached and working since deer seem to like tearing it down and sometimes those cows just don't care if they get shocked. I went around a few weeks ago and sprayed underneath the fence to kill off any weeds and grass that could grow into the wire and ground it, preventing the electricity from finishing the circuit. There were areas I couldn't spray because they were too close to water or just plain standing in water (we've had a lot of rain). Trees got in the way of the tractor too. Imagine that; trees don't just move so the tractor can get through!

I have come across some wild strawberry plants growing out there that produce all plant and almost no berry. Odd that I can't even get tame strawberries to grow in my garden but wild ones are taking over the woods and cow pasture. There are some other weeds growing too and I had to look them up to make sure they weren't really 'weed' weeds. I swear we didn't plant them. Turns out it's wild hemp, also known as a variety of pig weed, and just so you know, the ingredient that causes one to get high in the real thing, THC, is not in hemp, so trespassers beware. We won't take it lightly if you come on to our land looking for something that isn't there. Sure looks like the real thing though. What do you think?

                                                   Wild Strawberries and the 'Mystery Weed'

                                         I swear it really is wild hemp or pig weed. Looks real though.

Hard Weather Causing a Hard Year for Farming

I thought I'd go till up my weed patch, I mean my garden, and boy was I surprised to find that some of it actually did come up despite the overabundance of rain we have had. I spent hours pulling weeds from between the plants and then tilled between the rows and, yes, replanted some of it because it just didn't grow. All of my field peas had to be replanted and out of all the special giant variety strawberries I transplanted, only two survived. None of the cucumbers or spinach or squash survived so those too had to be replanted. My sweet potatoes finally showed up and I planted those, but they looked pretty sad and still don't look too great, so I'm thinking I wasted my money yet again. I have got to quit trying to grow my beloved sweet potatoes. The plants make here just barely alive, if at all, and then they won't grow. I had a year that they did well, but that was once in sixteen, albeit some years I didn't try to plant a garden and those years I always regretting not having done so. 

                                                   

  View of my garden from my deck. (Grand kids play equipment under the tree and rhubarb under clothesline)

It seems every time the soil dries enough to attempt to plant the soybeans and we get it all disked (again) and are ready to put the planter on the tractor we get a week of rain. We got three inches the other night and it's expected to rain all week. At this point we aren't sure it will even be feasible to plant them. A lot of farmers can't even get their corn planted yet, and here there is a saying that it should be knee high by the Fourth of July for it to make anything. Ours is nowhere close (but at least it's planted) and it looks more like a hay field, but with all the rain we can't get in the field to cultivate or spray to get rid of the grass so the corn stands half a chance. The tractor would get buried in mud. Forget getting the hay done. When one gets the chance, they spend every hour, waking or not, in the field cutting, by headlight if necessary, the grass, and then as soon as it dries they rake it and wait for that to dry and bale or chop it for silage as soon as they can. The first cutting usually goes into silage or is baled and bagged or wrapped for silage so it doesn't have to dry completely like regular hay would, so farmers just keep at it until it gets done. Sleep? What's that?

Such is the life of a farmer I guess. I never felt the need to go to a casino or animal races (dog or horse) because farming is a gamble much greater; but the winning or losing is not seen for months rather than immediately, but it's just as addicting and a whole lot more work, but unlike a casino, the rewards usually outweigh the losses. We are using some of that 'down' time for another project. We're gutting part of the barn to put in a parlor so we can milk cows again. Yes, it is more work, and if you're milking you're pretty well stuck at home, but it beats working off the farm hands down.

Really Cute Farm Video from a Farm Kid

I saw the cutest video on FaceBook. This young boy is doing a parody to Call Me Maybe only it's called Farm It Maybe. Now he has the right attitude for a farm kid! You have got to watch this.
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=518463218220152

Well, the Fence Works

Fence maintenance is a time consuming, but necessary chore on the farm. We have several fields fenced off for our cattle to graze in. One is right behind the barn and has woven wire with electric fence inside. It has woven wire because it is the first place we put weaned calves to get used to fences in the place. It turned out barbed wire wasn't much of a deterrent to cows that have never been in a fence and many times we had to put it back together. Thus, we re-fenced it with the woven wire. Next, is a little larger area (a couple acres) outside of the first one that is barbed wire and electric. Once they are used to that and have begun eating the grass faster than it can grow back, we give them the larger field - the other areas are inside the big one. Every year the deer have a habit of running through the wire and either knocking it down or breaking it altogether. This fence has to be repaired often- like daily. We keep the cows up next to the barn starting in the fall because it's hunting season and we don't want people shooting at the cows. We also have a hard time getting around the field in the deep snow.

The circumference of  this outer field is about a mile. We finally got the cows used to the middle field and it was time to fix to the outer fence. Last year we had taken down some of the posts for the combine to have access to our soybean field so I spent a day putting up posts and replacing plastic insulators. FYI-Insulators go on the posts to hold the wire and they are plastic so they don't conduct electricity between the wire and the posts and the wire will maintain its ability to shock the heck out of the cows (or anything else) that touches it. The next step is to put the wire back on the insulators or in most cases, splice it back together where the deer broke it and then put it back. We also have to tie orange tape (non-stick kind) on the wires so the cows know it's there before they get shocked. (Fair warning and all that.) My husband did the other half mile of the fence the next day as I was tied up with other chores, and we turned the critters out for a test run. The cows of course began immediately exploring so we heard a lot of bawling as they discovered the fence in spite of the warning tape.

Now everyday someone has to walk the perimeter of the fence to make sure no insulators have come loose or are broken which happens on occasion, especially if a deer decides to crash land on it or a cow doesn't heed the shock. And we have to check to see that the wire is not grounded, which causes it to not shock, or broken, also causes it not to shock, or some weed didn't sprout to immense proportions overnight and take on tree-like status which also shorts it out. I did go around the fence with the tractor and big spray tank and spray weed killer under the wire, but sometimes it just doesn't kill it.

Today, I walked the fence and judging by the black hair on the barbed wire, a cow did not heed the shock and it broke an insulator which also set free the wire which tangled with the next one down. Shucks. It was like passing a law to get it untangled and if I had not decided it was just too far back to the barn (and through ankle deep mud -we'll call it that- yeah, since it has rained so much lately) to unplug the charger it would go much faster. I carefully separated the two pieces using the fence tester (a heavily insulated piece of wire-the wire exposed on each end that one puts one end on the wire and one on a steel post to see if it zaps), and a pair of fencing pliers with plastic coated handles. It must have had a few cracks in the coating on the handle because I got some mild shocks - nothing too bad. Then I put a new insulator on and commenced to putting the wire on it. Now the way one threads an insulator of that type is that it has to go under one hook and over another one like a set of fingers holding it in place. That wire was stubborn, but rather than putting in on the insulator and then onto the fence post, because the wire was hot and I thought it would go easier without the wire on it (it did). All the tools slipped and I ended up with a firm hold on a non-coated part of the pliers. The tools went flying one way, I went another and I know a really bad word slipped out. I got up and shook my head, almost afraid to reach for the tools on the other side of the fence, but I got them. Of course my legs felt like jell-o all the way back to the barn and I'm not sure my heart will ever forgive me. But you know what? It's really hard to check for shorts in the fence if it's not plugged in. It was about a half mile back to the barn where the charger is, and then another half back and then back again, because it does have to be turned back on in order to continue the check, but I think I'll just suck it up and get the extra exercise and wade through the 'mud'. Ouch!

Labradors and Chickens Don't Mix

When we decided to get chickens again after nine years we had to take a lot of things into consideration. One, the original chicken house was built inside the machine shed (by previous owners) out of chipboard. Even though this was technically inside, it is not a good idea. It was still exposed to the elements and the chicken doings so it had been ripped out a few years ago. Therefore, we had to make a secure, rot-free home for the hens. We decided to give them the old sheep shed and build a pen for them to go outside in. The meat birds we built a treated wood pen for in the old barn. They'll only be there a couple months until they are ready to butcher, and there is plenty of ventilation for them.

We did not let the chickens roam when they lived in the machine shed like we did when we lived in Missouri because we are way, way closer to the road, and I wasn't sure how our Australian shepherd Spot would handle them. He was cool with cats, but he liked to chase the yard birds (sparrows, robins, etc.) around bushes, so we figured he would also chase the chickens. He never was interested in getting them out of their house however, just going to the door occasionally to make sure (I suppose) they were still there. Flash forward to our obtaining Chaos, a four-month-old Labrador retriever, a/k/a a bird dog, a few years later. Spot being older and wiser, left the chickens alone, but Chaos made it her mission to get those birds. She was an excellent hunter without really any training. My husband once took on a company day-hunting trip to a local hunting preserve and he let someone else borrow her for a while. Their gun misfired and didn't go off and the guy yells really loud in a booming voice, "Damn!" To her I guess it sounded like 'blam!' and she took off after the bird she had pointed to. She jumped in the air and caught the live bird and took it back to the guy. Everyone just shook their heads as she presented him with the stunned fowl. My husband got five offers immediately for Chaos. I would have killed him if he has sold her.

However, she really, really wanted my chickens. The door to the hen house latched with a hook and eye lock. Who knew a dog could unhook it with their nose? I mean, that should hurt with the sharp point on the hook. She was not deterred once she figured out she could unlock that door. She opened it only enough to play Big Bad Wolf and stuck her head in and grabbed the first unsuspecting hen to waddle by. Poor things never saw it coming. We had many rounds of "Drop that Bird!" to no avail. We finally had to put a concrete block in front of the door. Unfortunately, if one was inside cleaning the pen or feeding the hens or collecting eggs, the door could not be locked. One winter's day after my husband had plowed the snow up into high banks across the yard in a sort of Y shape so we could go from the house to the shed or the barn Chaos decided she was going to get her one of those hens while I was inside feeding them. The chase was on. I tripped trying to get out of the hen house of course, so she had a head start. She decided to run circles around the snow-plowed (now apparently) running track. After several laps of my yelling for her to give me back my chicken she played 'hide the ostrich' with it and plunked its entire body, head first, up to its feet into the snow bank and kept running like she still had it. Apparently she couldn't breathe with a chicken in her mouth and run at the same time.  I was far enough behind her (because she is very fast when she wants to be) that I saw her 'hide' the chicken. I pulled the poor bird out of the snow bank and checked for signs of life and then decided I should probably do that in the hen house in case it came out of its stunned silence. I wasn't sure it wasn't dead, except dead chickens usually flop around quite a bit- I had seen it many times from the ones we either butchered or she had shaken to death like a rag doll when she stole them. I put the hen down in the house just in time for her wake up. She got to her feet and staggered around a bit and looked at me like (I kid you not) 'what the hell happened?' I locked the hen house and re-barricaded it. Chaos was so into the chase she made at least two more laps before she realized I wasn't chasing her anymore. She went to retrieve her ill gotten prize only to discover it was gone. She sniffed around and ended up at my feet. She looked up me and I looked back down at her. "Yes?" I asked her. Have you ever seen a dog pout? She pouts. She figured out I found her quarry and put it back.

Yeah, we have a chain and lock system on the chicken pen now. She can't get that open so she just stares at the hens, licking her lips when I'm out there.

This morning I was cleaning up the pen with the meat chickens. They are held in with a large wooden panel attached to the old steel pipe cow stanchions and gated on the ends with a concrete block wall and the other with a 4X8 piece of plywood. She cannot get over it or under it or through it. She paced the entire time by that panel across the stanchions whining and complaining because she could hear the little chicks squawking about my cleaning their floor and re-bedding them with wood chips. When I was done, she stood in my way looking up at me like 'would you give me a chicken already!' No, I don't think so.  

                                      Right after I got the baby chicks. They are about three weeks old now.

Dogs, Chicks, and Giggling Kids

We had our son's dog for the week while he and his family went on a vacation. Jett's okay. He's a hyper little Springer Spaniel. When he jumps he gets some air time, and he runs like a maniac every time I open the door across the yard. He has no idea where he's going, he just wants to run. They live in a sub-division and he doesn't get much free time; he's usually in the house or on a tether chain. (That's another reason I prefer the country with acreage. My dog can run loose when not in the house.)The advantage to dog-sitting is that they came back to get him and I got to see my grandsons. The oldest one, who is two and a half, loves tractors (as long as they aren't actually running). He had a blast going from tractor to tractor (he counts the riding lawn mower as a tractor) driving them. They hadn't been exposed to chickens before and thought they were fascinating. We took them into the barn to meet the meat chickens that are about three weeks old. They are out of that fuzzy 'aren’t they cute' and peep-peep stage and are starting to put feathers on their wings. I picked one up so they could get a closer look and pet it. A.J., the oldest, petted its head and talked to it. It made a squawking noise and the baby laughed like he was being tickled. That thing would make racket and he would break out in hilarious laughter. We laughed at him and he thought we were laughing at the chicken, and that made him laugh more. 

                                       Jett has some kind of wild hair! I brushed him for an hour- he looked nice.
                                       Then he did that shake all over thing dogs do and he undid the whole thing.            

We picked some rhubarb for them to take home and grandpa thought it would be funny to get A.J. to eat some raw. People up here eat it like celery. Yuk! He stuck it in his mouth and chewed on it and asked if the strings could get pulled off of it and then ate the entire stalk and asked for more. That will teach grandpa!

Mowing the Lawn and Apple Trees

My yard grows unnaturally fast when it rains. I could mow it two times a week and still not keep up with it. However, I truly enjoy mowing the yard. The mower is so loud that no one can disturb me because I can't hear them. I get to be lost in my own thoughts while I attack the grass with the precision of a military action. That's why I mow instead of someone else- I'm pretty picky about it. This time of year the front yard is my favorite. We have a lot of huge lilac bushes and they are all in bloom so their fragrance is all over the yard. I also have a Jonathan apple tree crossed with a choke cherry tree and there is also some other kind of apple tree (crab?), so when everything is in bloom with the lilacs, instead of a putrid, too-much perfume scent one would expect, it actually smells really nice. (Move over Fabreeze!)When we moved here sixteen years ago, we couldn't tell what kind of tree that apple-cherry cross was; couldn't even tell it was a cross. There was no label on any of the limbs to give it away and since the farm had been abandoned the year before, no one in the area knew what it was either. It took ten years for it to do anything but grow. I thought it was a choke cherry tree as there was another one nearby in front of a window (we cut it down as it really is not a good idea to plant a tree next to the foundation of the house and it kept interfering with the operation of the window). That mixed tree looks a little strange, but I tried to trim out most of the cherry to leave the apple, and I'm afraid I may have trimmed out the wrong limbs. It seems mostly cherry this year. Rats. Anybody know what I can do with the cherries besides make wine or attract birds?

       What happens when you have a grafted tree (cherry-apple cross)? You get a Chapple Tree!
        This is a shot of my crazy, mixed up tree with both fruits on it. Isn't that wild!

I noticed that one of those rabbits that took up residence in our machine shed went from hopping lazily across the yard to running really fast. Man, that bunny could really go too. I knew the dogs were in the house, so they weren't chasing it, and Chaos would only go a couple feet and stop anyway; the bunnies know this by now. Then I saw a shadow cross the lawn and I looked up. I should carry a camera or my cell phone which has a camera, when I mow. There was a beautiful bald eagle gliding on the breeze. It's hard to miss that black body with the white head and tail. Bunny must have thought he was cruising for his dinner. Eagles used to live in a tree across from my house but a storm took out their nest and the tree a few years ago. They must have rebuilt at my neighbors farm across what is now my corn field to the east. He has lots of trees and I saw the eagle head that way. I used to love watching them go after the field mice (and thanked them) as they fed their eaglets. It was cool.