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Published on Leave a comment on Seasonal Whiplash

DSCN0019A few years ago, when we were still living in Illinois, the planting season started as soon as the snow cover was gone, or so it seemed, anyway. The land was flat, it warmed up quickly and dried fast. The planting date seemed to get earlier and earlier each year. There was a race to be the first farmer in the fields again. Driving through the countryside you'd twist your head, turning fast and craning your neck to see who was working their ground so early in the season. I call it seasonal whiplash.

Keith slowed our truck to a crawl, then stopped just in front of the sheriff's car. It was blocking the road and the glowing red flares marked the site where a pickup truck had skidded into the ditch. The hood of the truck was peering up from the side of the embankment as the tow truck backed into place. “That looks like Buck White's truck in the ditch.” Keith strained as he looked for Buck.

“It is Buck's truck. I hope he's okay,” I couldn't see anyone inside the truck. “It doesn't look damaged, I don't think it rolled.” I sat back and shut off the radio as the sheriff's deputy walked over to us. Keith rolled down the window.

“Afternoon. It'll just be a few minutes until we open the road again.”

I leaned over the center console to see the deputy's face.“Was anyone hurt?”

With his hands on the door frame he leaned into the truck, “No, the drivers fine, he was looking over his shoulder when his right front tire caught the soft gravel and it pulled him into the ditch. The truck can't get enough traction in the soft ground, he just needs a tow out.” He waved to the car pulling up behind us and walked off. The audible rumbling of an engine was getting louder in the field across from us. “There's Buck's trouble,” I pointed to the farm field where a tractor was coming into view. It was moving slowly, pulling a corn planter. The doubled up rear tires were flinging mud as it dug into the soft ground. “Buck caught a case of seasonal whiplash. He jerked his head around to see who was planting this early.”

Keith laughed, “You're probably right. It seems much too early and too wet to work a field, let alone plant it. Some guys would just as well mud in their crop as wait for drier weather to plant it.” He reached for the door handle, “I'll see if Buck needs a hand.”

Buck and the deputy were standing on the shoulder of the road watching his truck roll back to the pavement. When it came to rest they all circled it checking its road worthiness. Keith patted Buck's back as they shook hands. He threw back his head, laughing. When he got back into the truck he turned to face me, “You called it. It's a clear case of seasonal whiplash”. Apparently, as Buck was coming around the corner, he saw that tractor in the field. He couldn't believe it, turning to get a second look, he swerved and caught the tire on the gravel's edge. Next thing he knew, his truck was in the ditch.

“Who's planting that field?” I asked. The ground belonged to Rusty Little's family.

“The Little's rented it to a guy from Boone County. That's a pretty good distance to have to move equipment. He's incredibly anxious if he's planting now. The ground's too cold.” Keith turned onto the road, heading for home.

"A farm is a hunk of land on which, if you get up early enough mornings and work late enough nights, you'll make a fortune - if you strike oil on it." -Fibber McGee

The warm spring weather has every machine shed door wide open. There is equipment parked in every farm-yard, each piece being examined. Grease guns lubricate fittings, loose bolts tightened, hydraulic hoses connected with fluids added as necessary. Anxious farmers can't wait to get into the fields again. Planting time causes every eye to turn toward the weather report. The old timers talked of the Three Iron Men and Ember days. The younger generation watches radar and consults their smart phone.  Now and again a piece of equipment moves down the road under the scrutiny of every farm it passes by. If a planter or grain drill moves along the road, while the fields are still sodden, tongues wag. No one wants to be the first in the field. The scrutiny would be too great. They also don't want to risk crop failure. However, being the last to work your fields invites criticism of your work ethic. Good weather is as critical as the planting date. Planting a few days late makes a difference. Each day, past the ideal planting date, the yield is depleted. For us, planting weather doesn't make or break our crop, we're grass farmers. Although, wet weather will certainly affect the hay crop.

So, with planting season in full swing, let's be careful. Turn your head slowly to get a better glimpse of the farmers hard at work planting their fields. You don't want to suffer from seasonal whiplash.

 

Published on Leave a comment on The Easter Key
Back when cars were simple
Back when cars were simple

The Easter egg hunt is over. It was fun, for me anyway. This year I missed out on my April fool's day trick so I made the annual Easter egg hunt my day.

Inside a few eggs I put some surprises that were duds. I knew they were duds, they were designed to make the boys believe that one particular surprise was real, especially after so many were filled with dumb stuff. Inside one egg was a single gumdrop. In another was a 'Jesus Loves Me' sticker. . But there was one large egg that had a car key inside. Cookie's car has transmission problems. His birthday is coming up, he'll be 21, he's been dropping hints. When he opened this egg his mouth fell open. “Is this a real key?” he looked stunned.

“Yep. It's a real key.” The kid's quick.

“Are you serious? This is a real key?” He held up the key. A look of thrilling disbelief crossed his face.

Smiling, I gave him a hug. “That key belongs to a car in the driveway. Take a look.”

 He looked out the window. He looked puzzled and asked, “What car is this the key for?”

 “That's the key for your Toyota.”

 He started laughing, “I knew you wouldn't get me a car. It was pretty exciting for the minute it lasted, though.”

 “I'm sure it was. You should probably have that transmission looked at.”

 “Will do.” He smiled, not as broadly, but it was still a smile. His brother, on the other hand, thought this was hysterical because it didn't happen to him. It was the Easter key to happiness.

2

Published on 2 Comments on The Joke’s On Me

DSCN1973The joke's on me.

I love April Fool's day. I enjoy playing pranks on my family. This year I had an elaborate stunt planned. I got some fleece material, some boards and decided to make a flock of baby lambs. I was going to dot the hillside with my fake lambs, placing them near our ewes. From the kitchen window it would look like we'd had an overnight windfall of new births. Before Keith goes outside for morning chores he always looks out the window to check on the livestock. He likes to see where they are. Well, Mother Nature beat me to it this year. On Sunday, when I checked on the livestock for the night, four new lambs were milling around with four ewes fussing over them. Getting them inside the barn was easy, but then we had to sort them out. Through careful observation of their behavior we figured out which lamb belonged to each ewe. One ewe had twins, two others had a single lamb. The odd ewe, without any lambs, followed us inside, too. Half an hour later she delivered triplets. Once they were all fed and bedded down we checked on the outside ewes again. Two more were ready to lamb. So, my April fools day plan didn't go as planned. Mother Nature delivered real lambs instead. As of this morning twenty-one new lambs are in the barn. The joke's on me!

Published on Leave a comment on They Get It

Our boys have been raised with certain expectations. They haven't always willingly followed the rules or program, we've laid out for them, but the consequences have been made clear. Sometimes there's a painful shock to them when they realize they're off track. At one time, one of our son's was cutting corners and not living up to his obligations. He was twelve at the time and earned money helping around the farm. He also had his own farm related side business and was earning a nice income from it. Despite clear guidelines he decided to slack off, thinking we wouldn't notice. We noticed. He was given one warning, didn't heed it, and was fired. Eventually he earned our trust and was re-hired and there hasn't been an issue since. Last week we were asked if we'd take a thirteen year old into our home for the summer to teach him responsibility. I'm not sure I know how to teach responsibility to a teenager. We didn't teach our boys, they learned by example. They've worked side by side with us for seventeen years and twenty years, respectively. They've been given responsibility. When they accomplished the small tasks they were given larger ones. The rewards started small and grew larger, as well. Truth be told, we never believed we were raising four year old boys, fourteen year old boys, or even eighteen year old boys, we were raising men. That was our goal, so that's  how we treated them; like men. Being given instruction, responsibility, and compensation they've gained independence. They're capable of helping friends and neighbors without any concern that they're unprepared for the job. They can earn their own money, set their own goals, and accomplish great things, not because we've taught them, but because we've worked with them. This particular thirteen year old is welcome at the farm. We're willing to work with him, too, but at some time he's going to go back home. If at home there isn't an expectation of responsibility, then the time spent here will have been for nothing. He just won't get it. He'll forever  be an adolescent with no direction and when he's out on his own he'll be in for a shock, a painful jolt of reality. He just won't get it.

“A brat is a child that acts like yours – but belongs to your neighbor.”

The cows are trained to respect the electric fence. The sheep are respectful of it, too. Every now and again we raise a few bottle lambs who aren't loyal to the flock of sheep, instead they bond with the goats who are independent and refuse to follow the grazing plan we've laid out for them. They scoot over, under and through the fence, going wherever they want. They aren't protected by the herd, which makes them vulnerable to predators, so they're kept in a separate pasture and rotated on a more limited basis. The cows get it. The sheep get it. The goats don't, and they never will. I'm talking about our MIG grazing program.

Every now and again we'll have other farmer's cows here for breeding to our bulls. There's always a learning curve with the visiting cows, especially if they have calves at their side. These calves aren't trained to the electric fence and run through before they realize there's a consequence waiting for them; a painful shock. The guest cows follow the herd, learning to wait patiently at the electric fence's gate handle for one of us to move it aside so they can advance into the next paddock. They're moved daily, which makes learning the routine a quick process.

 

Every summer the same few cows return for breeding. As soon as they step out of the trailer they remember the grazing system and follow the herd. They don't challenge the system, they get it, they just get it.

Attitudes are contagious. Is yours worth catching?

Published on Leave a comment on Signs of spring

Our friend Corky is a bird watcher, as is her sister, Storm. Storm lives in Texas and watches her bird feeder all winter long waiting for the Robins to return. When they do she calls Corky and gives her the news along with a report on the number of robins she's seen. Corky marks her calendar and waits. It's usually three weeks until the birds make it this far north. Sure enough, as soon as the robins get here so does a blast of severe weather. Folklore says that the robins will have snow on their tail three times before warm weather is here to stay. Here's where you can track the robins migration.

 There seems to be so much more winter than we need this year. -Kathleen Norris

Yesterday was the first day in over a month with temperatures above freezing. It was the perfect day for a walk in the woods. The dogs enjoyed the sunshine, too. Especially Eva who's recovered from her accident last spring. I searched the timber for berries, fruit or any sign of first food for the robins. Some of the gooseberry bushes have a few shriveled fruit clinging to the branches, but for the most part the bluejays have picked the timber clean.

Soaking up the sunshine
Soaking up the sunshine

The cattle lined up in the sunshine, soaking the beams into their souls. Their contentment was as visible as the sun itself. The chickens ventured a little farther than the barn yard for the first time in weeks. They cackled and called out with joy. It's amazing how restorative a small temperature inclination, accompanied with bright sunshine, is. Everything seemed to sing yesterday.

 

 

 

 

signs of spring!
signs of spring!

 

On our walk back up the lane in an area where the snow was pushed back so the bare ground was exposed, a small patch of grass was greening in the afternoon sun. Only 28 days until spring.

Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads. -Henry David Thoreau

 

Published on Leave a comment on Grafting a Calf

Life on a farm isn't all sunshine and roses. Sometimes it's tough, but not often, only occasionally. This week we had a heifer who laid on her calf and smothered it. Because she's a heifer with years of healthy calving ahead of her and concern that she'd get mastitis, limiting her milk production or udder health in the future, we decided grafting a calf  was a good option. A neighbor who dairies had a newborn bull calf the same age as the one we'd lost.  Keith cut the hide from the lost calf and tied it onto the new calf.  A cow initially identifies their calf by smell, maintaining the scent of the lost calf greatly aides in the grafting process. The heifer was haltered and tied until the bull calf nursed. This was repeated several times each day for several days. In about one week the heifer accepted the calf as her own and the hide was removed. 

Here are the steps to grafting a calf:

  • Find a calf close in age to the lost calf
  • Let the cow or heifer get a good scent of her calf before removing it from her
  • Skin the lost calf
  • Tie the hide to calf being grafted
  • Drizzle molasses onto the new calf to encourage the cow to lick it. The more you can encourage her to smell and touch the new calf the faster the grafting process.
  • Halter the cow/heifer or if necessary hobble her so she can't kick at the new calf
  • Encourage the calf to nurse safely
  • When the cow/heifer begins to accept the calf, allow at least 3 days, remove the hide
  • The new calf will be accepted, it's just a matter of time. Heifers are easier than a cow, but eventually even a cow will give in.
Grafting a calf
Grafting a calf

 

Published on Leave a comment on Farmers – Veterans Workshop
farmer-veteran workshops
 Keith's dad, January 1943
After the war he enjoyed growing tomatoes

Farmers - Veterans Workshop

When our friend Hal returned home from WWII he was searching for something. He had a variety of jobs, nothing felt right.  Then he started helping a friend farm. He also started gardening. He began to feel his worth again. He'd found a challenging occupation. Keith's dad enjoyed growing tomatoes. It was a rewarding experience.  Are you a veteran  interested in farming? The Farmer Veteran Coalition is holding a series of 4 farmers -Veterans workshop to help veterans interested in starting a farm business or finding agricultural related employment. Here are the dates and locations of these workshops in Iowa:

February 20, 2014 Ottumwa, IA

February 22, 2014 Waterloo, IA

March 13, 2014 Red Oak, IA

March 15, 2014 Storm Lake, IA

Here's a calendar of events with more information.        DSCN0005-150x150 (2)

Published on Leave a comment on Farm Boys

Today’s post is written by Garrett. Garrett loves winter and always has fun.  Enjoy.

Garrett (2)
 Garrett's always ready for fun

I love this season. When I was younger my brother, Cookie and I would spend winter days making snowmen. We usually built them just to knock them down again. However, on one occasion we got very creative. Our dad's architecture office was in town but he'd come home for lunch to see us. Cookie and I loved to ambush him. In the summer we'd hide in the hayloft and blast him with our Super Soaker's. In the fall we'd hide in leaf piles and jump out to scare him.

"If you can give your son or daughter only one gift, let it be enthusiasm." -Bruce Barton

 During the winter we had great fun building rows of snow people across the driveway just to see them run over by our dad's truck. One day we had an even better idea. Not only would we build snowmen across the driveway, but we'd  put bags of red food coloring inside them. This way we were sure to scare our dad into thinking that he'd run something over! The morning was spent building whole families of snow people filled with food coloring. By the time our dad got home it was impossible to avoid hitting them. As good humored as he is, he willingly obliged us by driving over them again, and again. Much to his dismay though, my brother and I started yelling instead of laughing when he hit the snowmen. He stopped to see what was going on. He was thoroughly confused by the red snow all over the driveway where the snowmen had been. Only then did Cookie and I burst into laughter, which was short lived. We were then given the task of cleaning up our mess before someone thought there had been some kind of tragic accident. My dad was worried that we would scare our older neighbor, Corky. On a fairly regular basis she would watch what Cookie and I were doing through the lens of her binoculars. She would report our activities to our mom who, in turn, would ask us to move to the other side of the yard out of Corky's view. My dad didn't want to upset her so we started shoveling clean snow over the gruesome scene. We kept a few snowmen in the yard with the carnage still visable as a reminder of the fun we'd had.

Farm Boys

 

Published on Leave a comment on Winter Feeding

Winter Feeding

It was much easier MIG grazing; Just move the strand of wire while enjoying the sunshine. Now we're using equipment to unroll round bales across the snow. Next year we'll experiment with stockpiling forage for winter grazing. No equipment. No un-rolling. The plan is to plant endophyte free fescue for winter forage and supplement it with fodder.  We'll still put up small square bales of clover, orchard grass, and alfalfa, but if stock piling goes well, hay baling may become a thing of the past. Time will tell.

Published on Leave a comment on Cousins
my cousins
My cousins

Cousins

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I love getting together with family. I love the food, the fun, and the joy. After dinner we clear the table and get out our penny jars to play poker. We’ll have just one more small piece of pie, which we repeat several times during our poker game. Our games are limited to penny antes and small change only. 

When my sister, Gail and I were young we could hardly wait for our grandparent’s, aunts and uncles to come over. Most of all we were thrilled to spend the day with our cousins. The basement floor was scrubbed and slick for roller skating and dancing. We'd set up our own area with snacks, and pop music. We'd keep completely separate from the adults upstairs.

When our guests arrived we’d hug and greet each one. I can still smell my grandmother’s wonderful perfume. She'd wrap us tightly into her arms and tell us how much she loved us. Her lipstick always left a mark that we'd rub off. I miss her, she was beautiful.

 When my two oldest cousins became teenagers they'd show us the latest dance moves they’d learned at junior high dances. We'd skate, sing, and dance to the latest pop bands. My sister and cousin, Laura would argue about which of them would marry Bobby Sherman and which would end up marrying David Cassidy.

Cousin's Dan and Steve were up-graded to the adult table once they reached thirteen. We looked enviously up at them from our corner where we sat at a card table with folding chairs. Our seats were significantly shorter that theirs. The adult table was an anomaly; Gail, Laura and I pretended not to care that the boy’s were drinking from “real” wine glasses. Dan and Steve kept turning in their chairs and raising their glasses towards us, we feigned disinterest.

Advancing to the adult table was inevitable for each of us. We seldom get together now. Our cousins’ live in different states. Each of us has our own family now with the commitments that accompany those relationships, but we share a wonderful past. These memories are ours forever. Anchored into our lives are the greatest embodiments of God’s wonderful blessing to us all… Love! This Thanksgiving we'll be greeting new friends and family and mourning the loss of others we've loved. We'll celebrate the joy of past gatherings and the hope for future reunions. This Thanksgiving join your hearts and your hands with those you love and Have a Wonderful Holiday!

 Welcome a stranger,

Seek out a forgotten friend

Keep a promise

Laugh

Listen

Brighten the heart of a child

Encourage the young

Express your gratitude

Be gentle

Take pleasure in the beauty and wonder of the earth

Speak your love

Speak it once again…

And

Let your heart be filled with

THANKSGIVING

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