When I was growing up all I ever said was "I'm gonna be a farmer when I grow up". It's no wonder I said that since the only people I was exposed to at a young age were mostly Amish. So I didn't really know any different. I surely wasn't going to be an electrician at the mill like my dad, And mom didn't go to work until we were all in school full time. Even as I grew and was more exposed to other professions I still stuck to my farmer career. I remember standing in my dad's garage and him lecturing me. He said "you can't be a farmer", farmers don't make a good living". But you know parents, dumb as rocks and don't know anything.
My friend Melissa has two Boer billy goats. She's been wanting to get two females to breed. She finally found some on Craig's List she was interested in and her being a gas patch widow as am I, she recruited me to make the journey with her to get them. I also talked my Bestie Jen into going along too. So I tell willie we're making the trip. "your not bringing one home are you?" He asks. I pause, "I don't think so". "Wrong answer" he says.
So Melissa picks me up in her quad cab, 8ft bed chevy pickup, and her blue rubber barn boots. I climb in with my hot pink rubber farm boots and we're off to pick up Jen. Jen climbs in with her sketcher tennies, aero shirt and good jeans. We yell at her "Why are you dressed up to go farming?" She screams back "Cuz I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to wear, I don't farm". We like to scream!
So off we go, the three of us and Karen. She is the GPS, named after Planktons wife on Sponge Bob because they have the same voice. We travel the back roads of south Butler, praying to arrive safely due to Melissa's driving. We arrive at our destination. As we pull closer to the house, we are bombarded with a menagerie of animals. Dogs, chickens, guineas, geese, goats, llamas, donkey's, pigs, kids, ect. We are cracking up at the hilarious vision in front of us.
We end up bringing three female goats home. And even with Melissa's 8ft truck bed, she proceeds to lay out a tarp on the back seat to bring them home. We all think she's a little touched. We start our journey home. I make her stop along 422 because I have to pee so bad. Well, the goats knew it was a pee break and started peeing all over the back seat. Jen is screaming "Oh my God, Oh my God, how gross". Well, a goat can't pee with out dropping some pellets too. Jen screams louder. I'm glad I'm done peeing or I would've peed my pants laughing. We need to stop at Tractor Supply and get some supplies. So we leave them in the truck while we shop. We're hungry, so we go into Pizza Hut and order pizza. Remember, I am still in my hot pink rubber boots and we all wreak of Goat and god knows what else. With that being said, I still think we were overdressed for the general Kittanning population.
We arrive home. I carry one goat into the barn. Jen grabs another crying and screaming because they are covered in pee and turds. Her goat senses her anxiety and decides to buck and kick. She keeps hold of it and throws it in the barn. The third is still in the truck bawling. Well, the two immediately crawl under the gate and start running through the field. I chase after them. I'm screaming "they're running away" as I'm chasing them through the pitch dark. Melissa starts running her pregnant butt up to the house screaming for the men to come and help. They are less then thrilled. I herd them back towards the barn and one runs toward Jen. She surprises us all by diving at the goat, face planting in cow manure, as the goat jumps over her and runs away. Now she is less then thrilled. We eventually capture all three and decide to lock them in the garage for the night until we can close in the barn better.
We all were so proud of Jen, the non-farmer. So next month we are taking her back to the goat farmer because she has decided she wants a pig.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
hhmm? wheres to poop??
My husband has a saying "Every conversation eventually leads to "poop". He uses a more explicate word, but this is a G rated post. Its so funny, because he's right. Our lives revolve around poop. You always keep track (maybe subconsciously) of how many times you go, if its a "good" one, a runny one, a hard one, or none at all. If you have cramping or a belly ache, mom and the Dr. always ask, "when was your last movement?"
When we have children, we get so excited over a poop. If your baby is fussy, "did she poop today?". When she does poop, we have to describe it to our friends and spouses. "Annie pooped the whole way up her back today", And honestly, how many of us have applauded a baby's poop? "Yay, you pooped, good girl"
Now add animals to the mix and you got loads of poop. We had horses, there poop is pretty easy to clean. big clumps, you could pick it up and throw it like a ball if you wanted (No, I have never done it). We have cows. Now their poop is awful. Big runny piles of it the size of a small space craft. sometimes they stand up against the barn wall and splatter it six feet up it. Nasty creatures, that's why we eat them. We get tired of scrubbing poop off the walls. Chickens and ducks are pretty nasty too (hence the eating). Ever hear the expression "runs like a ducks butt"? Well, there's merit behind that saying. They can't go five minutes without leaving a green and white splatter behind them. And once it dries, its a pain to get off. I've scrubbed more chicken poop off my porch and sidewalk then anyone ever should have to.
Cats! Cats have to be the nastiest. They are so nasty that not only is their poop nasty but their pee too. I think they are so nasty that they are not in the eating category. Don't get me wrong, I like cats. I like to pet them and play with them, but I can not own one any more because of their poop. Cat poop is where I draw the line. And that's all I have to say about that.
Now to the poop that started this post, Dog poop. The best pooping dog I ever had was a doberman mix named Fancy. She would always cross the road and poop in the corn field. We never had to worry about stepping in it in the yard or chopping it up with the mower. She was such a good dog. I had a Springer, Max, that would only poop in the driveway. My dad would get so mad. I would defend the dog and say, "but daddy, the grass tickles his butt". My first Heeler, Tucker, was a great dog in every way, except his pooping habits. I dont know why but with 150 acres of land to poop on he insisted on doing it two feet in front of the front porch. I would get so mad I could've shot him. Well, actually, I did. Willie bought me a BB gun and I would ping him in the butt every time I saw him start to hunch into position. It didn't work. He still did it when I wasn't watching. Our Beagle is just as bad. She poops all through the front yard. She will be in the woods running a rabbit for two hours but wait and poop when she gets home.
Now to Maggie, our new Heeler puppy. I am determined to train her right. Every day I climb my mountain of a back yard to the edge of the woods so she can go. I want her to know this is the "designated bathroom". I am failing in my efforts. I climb to the top of the yard only to have her pee then sprint down the yard into my flower garden full of mulch around the house to poop. I scream at her and I cant catch her without falling and skidding down the hill. So now she goes to the door when she needs out. I open it and watch her. Guess where she goes? Right into my flower bed. WTH???? So today I'm going to start taking her on a leash so she can't sprint down the hill. I'm going to make her poop in the woods. I don't know if it will work. I can't take her out on a leash the rest of her life. The whole part of having a "farm" dog is their independence. So we can leave for a weekend and know they will be sitting on the porch when we get home. No need for a "doggy" babysitter.
So wish me luck. Hope you all have a good "movement" today.
When we have children, we get so excited over a poop. If your baby is fussy, "did she poop today?". When she does poop, we have to describe it to our friends and spouses. "Annie pooped the whole way up her back today", And honestly, how many of us have applauded a baby's poop? "Yay, you pooped, good girl"
Now add animals to the mix and you got loads of poop. We had horses, there poop is pretty easy to clean. big clumps, you could pick it up and throw it like a ball if you wanted (No, I have never done it). We have cows. Now their poop is awful. Big runny piles of it the size of a small space craft. sometimes they stand up against the barn wall and splatter it six feet up it. Nasty creatures, that's why we eat them. We get tired of scrubbing poop off the walls. Chickens and ducks are pretty nasty too (hence the eating). Ever hear the expression "runs like a ducks butt"? Well, there's merit behind that saying. They can't go five minutes without leaving a green and white splatter behind them. And once it dries, its a pain to get off. I've scrubbed more chicken poop off my porch and sidewalk then anyone ever should have to.
Cats! Cats have to be the nastiest. They are so nasty that not only is their poop nasty but their pee too. I think they are so nasty that they are not in the eating category. Don't get me wrong, I like cats. I like to pet them and play with them, but I can not own one any more because of their poop. Cat poop is where I draw the line. And that's all I have to say about that.
Now to the poop that started this post, Dog poop. The best pooping dog I ever had was a doberman mix named Fancy. She would always cross the road and poop in the corn field. We never had to worry about stepping in it in the yard or chopping it up with the mower. She was such a good dog. I had a Springer, Max, that would only poop in the driveway. My dad would get so mad. I would defend the dog and say, "but daddy, the grass tickles his butt". My first Heeler, Tucker, was a great dog in every way, except his pooping habits. I dont know why but with 150 acres of land to poop on he insisted on doing it two feet in front of the front porch. I would get so mad I could've shot him. Well, actually, I did. Willie bought me a BB gun and I would ping him in the butt every time I saw him start to hunch into position. It didn't work. He still did it when I wasn't watching. Our Beagle is just as bad. She poops all through the front yard. She will be in the woods running a rabbit for two hours but wait and poop when she gets home.
Now to Maggie, our new Heeler puppy. I am determined to train her right. Every day I climb my mountain of a back yard to the edge of the woods so she can go. I want her to know this is the "designated bathroom". I am failing in my efforts. I climb to the top of the yard only to have her pee then sprint down the yard into my flower garden full of mulch around the house to poop. I scream at her and I cant catch her without falling and skidding down the hill. So now she goes to the door when she needs out. I open it and watch her. Guess where she goes? Right into my flower bed. WTH???? So today I'm going to start taking her on a leash so she can't sprint down the hill. I'm going to make her poop in the woods. I don't know if it will work. I can't take her out on a leash the rest of her life. The whole part of having a "farm" dog is their independence. So we can leave for a weekend and know they will be sitting on the porch when we get home. No need for a "doggy" babysitter.
So wish me luck. Hope you all have a good "movement" today.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
checkered flag
Im sitting here at 5am because I'm a glutton for punishment and got a new puppy. It wasn't planned but almost seemed meant to be. Lets go back a few years so you can all understand why.
I've always loved animals. I always told my parents the only grandkids they'd ever get would have four legs and a tail. As we all know, I didn't stick to that promise which I question almost everyday. I've had many pets over the years, mostly dogs, which they are all worth writing about and I could tell you love stories on all of them but that's another day.
Eleven years ago I was given an Australian Cattle Dog pup from my best friend. I named him Tucker. He turned out to be the most loyal and obedient dog I had ever owned. He went through a lot with me. He was there with me through my most emotionally difficult time of my life. He never left my side and I took him everywhere.
Willie and I almost split up over him when we were dating. When Willie and I moved in together, the only place we could find that would accept a dog was a severely broken down single wide trailer on a cliff in the middle of the woods. It was horrible. we would lay in bed at night and feel the wind blowing over us, which would be nice on a summer day with a window near by but considering it was winter and no windows were near us made for some concern. The mice would hide DeCon in willies boots every night and the whole place wreaked of cat pee. We heated with propane and it was costing us $400 a month (yes, I said a month) to heat it because they're were holes in the walls. Willie couldn't take it. He said "The dog has to go. We could have a descent place if we didn't have a dog" Well, Im sure most of you know what my response was, "Don't let the door hit ya on the way out babe". Don't be mistaking, I loved Willie then as I do now and would've been devastated had he took me up on the offer, but he didn't, and as he always does, God provided within a month an awesome place to rent with the best land lords ever that loved Tucker as much as we did.
Three years ago we lost Tucker. I won't go into the details of how that happened because its painful for me and I don't want to make any of you cry. We've had a few strays since then and Willie has his "girlfriend" Nellie, our beagle. I have said for a few years now that when I do decide to get another dog, I would want another Heeler like Tucker only female. I've come across a few but refused to pay hundreds of dollars for a dog I just wasn't sure I was ready for anyway.
So Friday morning I log onto Facebook and scan the home page of stats. I came down to one that read "Free female Heeler pups". What?? could she be serious? I messaged her, made sure I had read right, and immediately told her I definitely wanted one. So, she lives an hour and a half away. I have three kids, two of which get car sick, and a husband who has no clue of my plan. I have a million things to do this weekend, how am I going to sqeeze four hours out to get this dog? It comes down to the last minute and I come up with a babysitter and a co pilot for the trip. So 8pm Saturday evening I bring her home. The kids are thrilled because they thought momma was going grocery shopping. Ashton asks her name. I say "Id like to call her Dinga" he thinks about it, "mom that name is just too long and I'll never remember it, how 'bout we call her Checkered Flag?" of course, because thats so much shorter then Dinga. But by the end of the night she ended up being Maggie May.
Now as I sit here Willie still has no idea that we have a new addition. He left for work yesterday morning and won't be back until next weekend at the earliest. So today I'm sending him a picture of her sitting with his "girlfriend" Nellie, on his recliner with no explanation. Hehe, I know, Im so bad. Ill let you all know how it turns out.
I've always loved animals. I always told my parents the only grandkids they'd ever get would have four legs and a tail. As we all know, I didn't stick to that promise which I question almost everyday. I've had many pets over the years, mostly dogs, which they are all worth writing about and I could tell you love stories on all of them but that's another day.
Eleven years ago I was given an Australian Cattle Dog pup from my best friend. I named him Tucker. He turned out to be the most loyal and obedient dog I had ever owned. He went through a lot with me. He was there with me through my most emotionally difficult time of my life. He never left my side and I took him everywhere.
Willie and I almost split up over him when we were dating. When Willie and I moved in together, the only place we could find that would accept a dog was a severely broken down single wide trailer on a cliff in the middle of the woods. It was horrible. we would lay in bed at night and feel the wind blowing over us, which would be nice on a summer day with a window near by but considering it was winter and no windows were near us made for some concern. The mice would hide DeCon in willies boots every night and the whole place wreaked of cat pee. We heated with propane and it was costing us $400 a month (yes, I said a month) to heat it because they're were holes in the walls. Willie couldn't take it. He said "The dog has to go. We could have a descent place if we didn't have a dog" Well, Im sure most of you know what my response was, "Don't let the door hit ya on the way out babe". Don't be mistaking, I loved Willie then as I do now and would've been devastated had he took me up on the offer, but he didn't, and as he always does, God provided within a month an awesome place to rent with the best land lords ever that loved Tucker as much as we did.
Three years ago we lost Tucker. I won't go into the details of how that happened because its painful for me and I don't want to make any of you cry. We've had a few strays since then and Willie has his "girlfriend" Nellie, our beagle. I have said for a few years now that when I do decide to get another dog, I would want another Heeler like Tucker only female. I've come across a few but refused to pay hundreds of dollars for a dog I just wasn't sure I was ready for anyway.
So Friday morning I log onto Facebook and scan the home page of stats. I came down to one that read "Free female Heeler pups". What?? could she be serious? I messaged her, made sure I had read right, and immediately told her I definitely wanted one. So, she lives an hour and a half away. I have three kids, two of which get car sick, and a husband who has no clue of my plan. I have a million things to do this weekend, how am I going to sqeeze four hours out to get this dog? It comes down to the last minute and I come up with a babysitter and a co pilot for the trip. So 8pm Saturday evening I bring her home. The kids are thrilled because they thought momma was going grocery shopping. Ashton asks her name. I say "Id like to call her Dinga" he thinks about it, "mom that name is just too long and I'll never remember it, how 'bout we call her Checkered Flag?" of course, because thats so much shorter then Dinga. But by the end of the night she ended up being Maggie May.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
The Day I Saved Hennie
7:50 am starts my four hours of "somewhat" peace in the house. I've gotten my Kindergartner off to school so that leaves only the four yr old and one yr old. The house is surprisingly quite when one boy doesn't have the other one to fight with.
It was a brisk morning walk to the bus stop this morning. A cup of coffee in one hand, the hand of my six yr old in the other. I really enjoy the five to ten minutes Im outside with him. I love the cool fresh morning air. The bus comes, he walks on while turning around no less then five times to tell me bye and he loves me, then they drive away. On the way back up to the house I stop and check our hens nest (a pile of rope in the corner of the garage that she has claimed since the coons found her previous nest in the barn and stole her eggs everyday) and I collect my egg for the day. I look out into the pasture and see only lone rooster and hen pecking away and I wonder how much longer they will be with us.
We started with 16 chickens total about 2yrs ago. Slowly they have dwindled in numbers due to the many coons, weasels, and hawks that inhabit our little mountain home. We are left with our two survivors, Jonny the Rooster and Hennie. That wasn't her given name but since her four sisters died, Amy, Beth, and Jo, it didnt seem right to have Meg with out them so I started calling her Hennie.
Jonnie proudly and faithfully starts his wake up call at 4am. Some days I'd like to shoot him, but then I think about the day I almost lost Hennie and I know I will miss him terribly when he's gone.
About two weeks ago, I got up just at day light. staggered downstairs to the kitchen and started heating the water for my tea. I heard this terrible screaming sound. What in the world? So I open up the back door and look out into the yard. I see Jonny and Hennie strutting right into the edge of the woods just cackling and screeching away. Whats wrong with them? There must be a coon or weasel after them. Just then a red tailed hawk came swooping right past me and up into a tree overlooking them. OMG, that hawks after my chickens. I stood there frozen with fear. What am I gonna do? Jonny and Hennie continued walking and screeching through the woods. Just as they exited the woods and into the edge of the yard, that hawk swooped down on them again. I screamed. He flew back up into a tree. I took off running through the house screaming "get the gun, get the gun". I have no idea who I was talking to since the only people awake were my children sitting on the couch watching their "toonies". As I skidded past them towards the closet where I keep my shotgun, my "socked" feet when sliding out from under me on the hard wood floor and I crashed onto my left side. I lay there in terrible pain. "Ouch" I said. Then the adrenaline kicked back in and I jumped up, grabbed the gun from the closet, and ran back outside. I ran up through the yard in my stocking feet till I saw that hawk, aimed the gun, and squeezed the trigger. Now mind you, I had never shot that gun before (or any gun bigger then a .22 before). I heard crashing through the branches and I "think" I got him.
I turned back to the house huffing and puffing to see my husband (who had still been sleeping) and children standing at the door looking at me like went mad. "What the heck are you doing?" He asked. "A hawk was trying to get the chickens!" I screeched. "Good Job Annie" He said.
He went in search of the body, but couldn't find it. I was disappointed because that meant I probably missed. But one thing is for sure, had I not went on the attack, Hennie would've been breakfast for that hawk for sure.
So that's the story of me saving my chickens. I know its just a matter of time before that hawk or another one probably gets them but I feel pretty darn good about being the hero for that day anyway.
It was a brisk morning walk to the bus stop this morning. A cup of coffee in one hand, the hand of my six yr old in the other. I really enjoy the five to ten minutes Im outside with him. I love the cool fresh morning air. The bus comes, he walks on while turning around no less then five times to tell me bye and he loves me, then they drive away. On the way back up to the house I stop and check our hens nest (a pile of rope in the corner of the garage that she has claimed since the coons found her previous nest in the barn and stole her eggs everyday) and I collect my egg for the day. I look out into the pasture and see only lone rooster and hen pecking away and I wonder how much longer they will be with us.
We started with 16 chickens total about 2yrs ago. Slowly they have dwindled in numbers due to the many coons, weasels, and hawks that inhabit our little mountain home. We are left with our two survivors, Jonny the Rooster and Hennie. That wasn't her given name but since her four sisters died, Amy, Beth, and Jo, it didnt seem right to have Meg with out them so I started calling her Hennie.
Jonnie proudly and faithfully starts his wake up call at 4am. Some days I'd like to shoot him, but then I think about the day I almost lost Hennie and I know I will miss him terribly when he's gone.
About two weeks ago, I got up just at day light. staggered downstairs to the kitchen and started heating the water for my tea. I heard this terrible screaming sound. What in the world? So I open up the back door and look out into the yard. I see Jonny and Hennie strutting right into the edge of the woods just cackling and screeching away. Whats wrong with them? There must be a coon or weasel after them. Just then a red tailed hawk came swooping right past me and up into a tree overlooking them. OMG, that hawks after my chickens. I stood there frozen with fear. What am I gonna do? Jonny and Hennie continued walking and screeching through the woods. Just as they exited the woods and into the edge of the yard, that hawk swooped down on them again. I screamed. He flew back up into a tree. I took off running through the house screaming "get the gun, get the gun". I have no idea who I was talking to since the only people awake were my children sitting on the couch watching their "toonies". As I skidded past them towards the closet where I keep my shotgun, my "socked" feet when sliding out from under me on the hard wood floor and I crashed onto my left side. I lay there in terrible pain. "Ouch" I said. Then the adrenaline kicked back in and I jumped up, grabbed the gun from the closet, and ran back outside. I ran up through the yard in my stocking feet till I saw that hawk, aimed the gun, and squeezed the trigger. Now mind you, I had never shot that gun before (or any gun bigger then a .22 before). I heard crashing through the branches and I "think" I got him.
I turned back to the house huffing and puffing to see my husband (who had still been sleeping) and children standing at the door looking at me like went mad. "What the heck are you doing?" He asked. "A hawk was trying to get the chickens!" I screeched. "Good Job Annie" He said.
He went in search of the body, but couldn't find it. I was disappointed because that meant I probably missed. But one thing is for sure, had I not went on the attack, Hennie would've been breakfast for that hawk for sure.
So that's the story of me saving my chickens. I know its just a matter of time before that hawk or another one probably gets them but I feel pretty darn good about being the hero for that day anyway.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Let us begin
so I've been wanting to do something like this for a while. I just feel like I have so much to say and my status updates on Facebook only allow so many characters. I feel so out of touch with people most days. Maybe you all can read my blogs, send me comments, and I can feel closer to everyone.
Ive just recently started texting (I know, Im a dinosaur in so many ways) Im addicted to it just as I became addicted to facebook about a year and a half ago. Ive become so connected with so many new and old friends that they consume my mostly lonely days as a stay at home mom. Dont get me wrong, Im in no way bored at home with my three children, six, four, and one, but mature conversation is limited.
I don't necessarily feel what I have to say is "important" or even entertaining, but I do think I have a lot of pleasantries in my life and I know some fun stories I'd love to share. My husband has a large circle of friends that he's known his whole life. When they get together their stories are the highlight of their time together. I love listening to all the adventures they've endured through out their life but I often times sit alone off to the side and think "I have so many fun stories too", but my circle of old friends has dissipated and it just doesn't feel the same telling a story to a group of people when there is no one there to share the memory with you.
So I hope you all enjoy my blogs and I welcome all your comments and feedback. Take care of and see you all soon.
Ive just recently started texting (I know, Im a dinosaur in so many ways) Im addicted to it just as I became addicted to facebook about a year and a half ago. Ive become so connected with so many new and old friends that they consume my mostly lonely days as a stay at home mom. Dont get me wrong, Im in no way bored at home with my three children, six, four, and one, but mature conversation is limited.
I don't necessarily feel what I have to say is "important" or even entertaining, but I do think I have a lot of pleasantries in my life and I know some fun stories I'd love to share. My husband has a large circle of friends that he's known his whole life. When they get together their stories are the highlight of their time together. I love listening to all the adventures they've endured through out their life but I often times sit alone off to the side and think "I have so many fun stories too", but my circle of old friends has dissipated and it just doesn't feel the same telling a story to a group of people when there is no one there to share the memory with you.
So I hope you all enjoy my blogs and I welcome all your comments and feedback. Take care of and see you all soon.
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