Posts Tagged ‘pasture’

I knew this phrase as a child reading Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books, but it was not until last year that I gained first-hand experience of its origins. Pa Ingalls wasn’t using diesel-driven tractors and rakes, certainly, but haying bears the same urgency it always has: get it up before the rain, or risk losing a portion of next winter’s feed.

front yard baled

This small pasture had already been knocked down last week, but the risk of rain was finally upon us yesterday, so brother-in-law Drew dragged the rake over it all to fluff it, then Brad finished up behind him with the baler. The kids went out to climb and play haybale tag only to be chased indoors after just a few minutes by the rainstorm that blew in.

running in

Brad and Max also managed to start setting out tomatoes in the veggie patch, following the rows created by planting the sweet corn. They didn’t get far before getting caught in the downpour, but it is at least a beginning.

tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, waiting on the porch

Max went to the patch this afternoon to check the plug trays left behind yesterday and found several cows; fence repair is now next on the agenda, before we set anything else out and absolutely before the corn starts coming up. With the fence wiring grounded out in several places the new calves are learning to come and go as they please instead of learning to avoid the fence like their mamas. They’ll be surprised (dare I say shocked?) after it’s all fixed and carrying the proper amount of current again. I’ll just have to hope it doesn’t take too long to sort it all out. You just never know what’s going to come up.


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Julia Child rose, very fragrant and a prolific bloomer

May is already upon us, and the fertility of earth swells forth everywhere. Calico blankets of white clover, buttercup and hop clover soften field road edges, their honey-like fragrance enticing local pollinators. Spiky wands of milk thistle wave their pink poufs high above the grasses they punctuate. The heifers have been inseminated and the bulls bellow and whistle, claiming their respective herds. Spreaders trundled back and forth all through April, feeding the soil that feeds the grass that feeds the cows, and we’ve baled the first field of hay from this year’s growth. Nightshades and peppers grow strong in the hoop house, and corn planting has begun, with the planters now resting mid-field, awaiting the next rain.

when there's rain...

This has been a month of tragedies and triumphs. My first order of chicks got lost in the mail, arriving a few days too late and putting a damper on everyone’s expectations. The unceremonious roadside disposal of thirty-five dead chicks reminded me of the indifference of experience. I was raised to not spend much time grieving over animals; I wonder if I am too cold, too detached. It is what is, however, and arguing with reality wastes precious time and energy; so, onward. The hatchery sent me a replacement order the following week and while the survival rate was not stellar we now have two crested girls that we’ll keep for layers and twenty boys. (Apologies for their blurriness, they wouldn’t sit still for anything!)

"heavies" from McMurray Hatchery

In better news, Brad found one more calf in the field, at least two weeks old, born after the mamas and babies had been sorted into separate pastures for breeding. Thus we have one bull from this year’s birthings, a mother to identify and extra attention to pay in a few months when we’ll need to separate him from the others.

The calves nearest the house have a particular disregard for the electric fence, browsing the field roads and the yard many mornings:

just another pretty face

mmm, figs

in the clover (and perhaps the blackberry canes)

the grass is greener over here

My raised beds are built, filled, and planted; seeds sprout in flats, and we’ve begun preparing the field that will be the veggie patch. If all goes well (this is also the season of tractor repair as things break or malfunction periodically) Brad will put the sweet corn in the patch today, while I am once again headed for market this afternoon, with eggs, cornmeal, grits, and polenta. Happy Beltane!

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The day of balance has arrived. Now we enter the quarter of the year when daylight increasingly overpowers night, when soil warms and living things of all kinds emerge from winter’s cocoon to fulfill their biological destiny. With the unusually mild temperatures we’ve been having much of the earth is already well awake:




darling little unknown blooming vigorously on the south side of the house, with some clover and wild strawberry




We sorted mamas and babies today. As a family operation, this was the real deal: my mother-in-law, father-in-law, all three sons and Roger all had jobs to do, first the sorting then the driving. They sorted the mamas into pens by their tags, then the calves one by one according to which group their mamas were in. Lastly they loaded the calves onto trailers and moved them to new pasture, driving the mamas along behind them.

Carter driving the calves


moving the first group of mamas


"What are you looking at?"


mama train


snack break in the hay barn

All this took most of the day. I of course kept the kids out of the way and took pictures. By next week my seeds and chicks will arrive I’ll be starting everything from Anaheim peppers to zucchini and tending thirty-something new baby chicks. Happy Spring!

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A few days ago one of our mamas birthed our first set of twins this season, one boy and one girl. The heifer was the definite runt, but (perhaps because of handling the steer) the mama took to her girl and kept kicking her boy off. Brad has been watching them, trying to determine whether we’ve got one to bottle-feed or not. He penned the three of them up together on their second day and tried feeding the steer, fairly unsuccessfully.

the heifer gets to nurse


Brad and the steer

At the end of that day the mama was sniffing the steer and seemed to claim him as her own, and he certainly didn’t seem hungry for the bottle, so Brad turned them all back out to pasture so the mama would be less stressed. On the third day the steer was off by himself again so Brad decided to walk him in to the barn, until the mama charged him for taking her baby! So, out they all stayed, and Brad saw the steer getting to nurse too, so we know she has stopped kicking him off. He’ll keep checking them carefully for a while yet to make sure both calves are getting enough milk, then hopefully we’ll be letting nature take its course. We learned last year with our bottle-fed heifer Isabell (most likely an abandoned twin, as we never identified her mother) that the bottle-fed calves never come close to catching up with their naturally nursed mates. And while Angus is a meat breed, the supply-follows-demand biology of nursing should easily keep up with just two calves in a healthy mama like this one. Another lesson in watching and waiting, sitting on hands, resisting meddling and letting nature show us what to do.

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