Sally's last supper

They say "three heads are better than on." or is it just two ? Maybe it was four. All I know is when I pulled our truck and borrowed livestock trailer into the horse pasture my horses were ALL OVER that truck. I pulled the trailer in to remind Sally how to properly load in order to prepare her for the ride to her new home. Before the truck came to a stop my three stooges had their heads buried in the truck bed. Seems when son Kyle was hauling grain the day before (for our pigs) some spilled in the truck bed. That truck bed was licked clean by the major lip action of those horses. A nice treat for Sally since a few hours later her new owner showed up to take her to a new barn. Filled with oats and in a generally very happy mood she loaded on and off our trailer like a dream. This was not her regular behavior. I believe she knew this new beginning for her was going to be a good one.

Owning Sally has been a huge learning experience for me. (She is the middle head in the picture above.) When I bought her 7 years ago I already knew "everything " about horses. After all I had been riding since I was 8, and I already owned my trusty mount Johnny. But Johnny was the kind of horse anyone could ride. No buck, no kick, always willing to please. An old trail horse from a kids camp.You could've set a flaming Chritmas Tree on his back and he would've behaved. But not Sally. Green broke at four which really meant she had been haltered twice, I had my hands full. It took us 3 hours to load her that first day. Should've been a clear sign then there was trouble ahead, but I wanted her and ignored the signs. She was pretty you know. I struggled on my own for a couple years and then starting reading and attending clinics. The longer I had Sally the less I knew about horses.

She was always one hoof in front of me. When I first taught her to lead she yanked me off my feet, with just a flip of her big strong Quarterhorse head. When I first taught her to lounge she sent me flying and I mean FLYING through the air in front of witnesses no less. Once my nieces saw that I was breathing they laughed hilariously. Special girls those two. Sally taught me then...I needed a round pen. We bought one and her training accelerated. When we began transitioning from jogs into lopes she transitioned into bucking. I never fell during those times due more to my hefty statue than to my skills. Big girls are harder to buck off. Its just physics. The one time I did fall off  it was all my fault. My husband had just dumped lots of new sand into the round pen, the weather was grand, so with him in full sight  she and I went from jog to lope to jog when she slipped in the too deep sand. She fell forward and so did I. Up and not quite over the saddle, I slammed my thigh into the saddle horn. My head hit the ground hard enough to crack my helmet. Note the word HELMET. Always a good thing when riding. I sported  a cantaloupe- sized bruise inside my thigh for weeks

I recovered, but my husband who was right there, did not. He doesn't watch me ride much anymore. He does always make sure I have my cell phone and helmet on me when I do. About that time my trusty mount Johnny, the one I would always ride when I was not in the mood for more Sally work, needed to be put down. At 27 it was time. His demise was short and sweet as we have the most excellent vet. I missed him terribly. After that I rode Sally less and less and less. I bought two new horses last year hoping to get my riding Mojo back but then the farm got very busy. Sooooooo

I gave her to my niece who was also a horse nut. Sally proved too much for her skill level and she came back home. Then I posted an ad for a FREE horse to a good home. Experienced riders only. I interviewed several people. I picked one. The gal already owns four horses, has a 20 stall barn and 7 acres. I spent two hours with Sally yesterday reminiscing about our trials together, explaining how much we learned from each other and how much more riding life we both had left in us. She understood. When her new owner came she could not have been more cooperative. She pretty much leapt into their trailer. I waved goodbye and before she was down the lane I had a bridle on Nora , my 6 year old mare ,and she and I rode bareback awhile. With my helmet on and a couple tears in my eyes. Thanks Sally for a good ride.You taught me well.

"We're moving on up...

to the East side. To a dee-luxe apartment in the sky ." Well, its not exactly in the sky but it is a move up for our four sows and it is on the east side of our property and it sure is deluxe. Yesterday Keith and Kyle loaded up the four girls with promises of a big straw filled bed and lots of room to roam. They loaded like a dream and unloaded just as nicely. Of course it was helpful that the guys had put out large pans of ground corn  for them in front of the new digs. Always works for me.

While the other girls chowed down, Lady Anna, our "boss hog" began walking up and down the fence perimeter, checking out the neighborhood. After eating, Little Debbie got on-line and ordered new comforters while Dot and Spot shopped for nursery items. If Fritz (God rest his soul) did his job, we have just 7 weeks until our first litter of piglets is due.

While the men folk were playing with the sow folk I finished our first grant application and sent it off. The grant took a large amount of time but I have to admit I enjoyed doing it. Reminded me of the old budget days at OSF St. James where you could not just ASK for money you had to fully validate WHY you needed it, HOW you would use it and WHAT you would do if your budget plans did not pan out. Too bad our own President isn't being held as accountable. Of course he was not trained by Paula Corrigan  CFO, like I was.

Little House on the Dairy

August 26, 2009

This little house is our feed shed. Lights left on by some farmwife in rubber boots and worn thin Old Navy shorts, rushing through chores. On my way back from the barn after dark, I saw it and stopped for 10 whole seconds. I liked the way the light poured through the window and the door, the way the yard light behind me illuminated the old claw foot tub full of morning glory vines. I liked the way the peeling paint on the walls looked more silver and mysterious and less like just one more task I had not yet accomplished this summer.

I liked our farm.

But...I am worried about it. After 5 months of phone calls, meetings, and emails, the creamery we trusted to be buying our organic milk backed out of the deal. No written contracts had been signed but verbal offers were made and hands were shaken. Once upon a time that meant good business. Now it means we are back to ground zero after months of work. We have a great product. 100% grass fed organic milk from a herd of hard working bovines with udders to die for.
Do we relinquish our organic certification and return to the conventional milk world ? Or maybe we can take the heart breaking step so many dairy farmers have taken before us and sell our herd, close our barn doors? Or do we enter the cow-share world and distribute milk directly to our customers.? Or do turn 360 degrees and assume HUGE debt while opening our own bottling plant ? Or raise minks ? Or sell hemp purses ? Or what ? (I am so Jessica Lange in "Country" are'nt I?)

We don't know. What we do know is we want to farm. Organically and profitably. And we want other people to enjoy the milk we produce with all its benefits. We know we have the support of our family and friends whatever choice we make. Except for the minks, we're more denim folk. So, if you have the faith, prayers would be welcome. And if you have money and are so inclined, when you see a bottle of organic milk in your store with a Smirking Green Acres Cow on the label, we'd appreciate your patronage.

Please and thank you.