Got Milk?

Daisy's calf, Tip, sports his almost ever-present milk mustache in the following snapshot. I could stare at this little guy's ears for hours -- the way the hair scallops in three times against Tips's chocolate skin is so beautiful.

Tad, our Charolais steer, is in the background of this shot. Last week, Tad unlatched the gate and joined Daisy and her calf, becoming the official babysitter.

Today, I watched as Tip initiated play fighting with Tad. Actually, it was the calf butting his very small head against Tad's incredibly large one. To his credit, Tad just kept mowing the pasture, paying little heed to his youthful charge.

Introducing "Tip"

Daisy's week-old bull calf has his name: Tip. On the night that Tip was born, one of the Black Angus heifers or his mama must have accidentally stepped on this little guy's tail as the very tip required some minor doctoring. Hence, Tip. Here's a snapshot of Sweetgrass Ranch's first calf, taken today as Tip joyfully bounded around the pasture.

Daisy's Drop-In Babysitter

As I was walking the dogs up from the barn late this afternoon, I noticed the gate that separates the upper pasture from the lower one was open. My pulse raced with the question, "Where is Tad?"

Two weeks ago, we had split up Tad and his pasture mate, the very pregnant Charolais heifer, Daisy, fearing that the massive steer might be a bit rough with a newborn.

A week ago, Daisy safely delivered her calf and just as the baby stood and attempted to walk, the two Blank Angus heifers that we'd left in with Daisy and her little one -- as a sort of bovine secret service detail -- moved in and got nasty. Libbey drew Daisy away from the calf while Tove proceeded to butt the poor little guy, sending him flying.

It had been black as coal, but all I could see was red. I'd run Libbey down the pasture and gotten her penned in short order, but Tove had been more difficult. It took waking my son, Nick, and getting his help. Did I mention it was a cold, dark, moonless, and stormy night? Yep.

Every since the big event, Daisy and her child have had the whole big lower pasture to themselves as well as a temporary shelter. Tad has grazed in the adjacent pasture and he and the calf have touched noses many, many times.

So today, my eyes swept from the open gate toward the shelter. There, Daisy stood in the entry way. Tad and the calf were further back, comfortably standing side by side under the tarp roof, enjoying some male bonding time as the big steer hoovered up Daisy's leftover hay and alfalfa.

It was a photo opportunity I didn't want to miss, so I jogged to the house, put the dogs away, grabbed my camera, and sprinted back to the pastures. By the time I returned, the calf had curled up for a nap and Tad was keeping watch.

Tad, Daisy's "Drop-In" Babysitter, Keeping an Eye on the Daisy's Calf

Daisy must have trusted Tad because she took full advantage of her drop-in babysitter by moseying up to the upper pasture where, yep, the grass is indeed more lush.

Getting all the cattle back where they needed to be turned out to be easier than I had expected. First, I went to the barn and collected grain, hay, and alfalfa. Next, I got behind Daisy and simply walked her back to the lower pasture.

Amazingly the gate latch appeared to be in perfect working order. Go figure! There was a good amount of Tad hair on the clip, so it's possible the steer simply let himself out by rubbing on the gate post. Of course, I may have a bovine Houdini on my hands, too.

By this point in time, all three -- Tad, the calf, and Daisy -- had sauntered up to the gate and were watching me intently. As I shook the grain can and dumped a good portion into Tad's feed dish, the steer moved up to the gate. All I had to do was to hold the gate open for Tad -- he did the rest.

With Tad back in his pasture, I headed down to the shelter, where I replenished Daisy's supply of hay, alfalfa and grain before moving on to the Black Angus heifers' pasture.

All this cattle wrangling has made me one happy camper. Now that I know Tad can be trusted with Daisy's calf, it will be interesting to see if he figures out how to undo the doubly secured gate.

Okay, okay, I know... It's time to stop writing about "the calf." Daisy's baby is a week old and he needs his name. Since his coat is silver, I'm thinking Argento or Sterling. King works nicely too, although I wouldn't want the little guy thinking he runs the ranch. Suggestions?

Snapshots From This Past Week

This past week was huge here at Sweetgrass. Our Charolais heifer, Daisy, safely delivered her calf; it snowed yet again; and my two year-old filly, Jetblue, finally got to go into a small outdoor paddock after two long months of stall rest.

It's not often that I take time to look back and reflect on events, but it seemed particularly appropriate to do so tonight. I'm thankful that Daisy and her bull calf are doing well, and thankful that Jetblue is still with us. The filly is recovering nicely from a right lateral displacement of her colon, an event that might have been deadly had it not been for the intervention of a crack surgical team at Oregon State University.

My takeaway: LIFE IS GOOD AND PRECIOUS AND MEANT TO BE TREASURED!

Here are a couple of snapshots from this past week. Enjoy!

Tad (left), Daisy's Calf (center), Daisy (right)

Jetblue in Her Paddock

""Great" Hands are the Work of a Lifetime

While reading a story in the March 2012 issue of Practical Horseman, "Getting a Grip on Good Hands" by Peter Lombardo, I came across the following profound phrase: "..."great" hands are the work of a lifetime."

Like so many things in life, riding horses and actually being good at it is a long-term process. According to Lombardo, many riders do a great job of developing their seat and leg, but often overlook their hands.

Since we communicate directly with our horse's mouths through our hands, it's important to work toward "great" hands. In Lombardo' words:

""Good" hands -- and that includes your fingers, hands, wrists, arms and shoulders -- are steady, a hard quality to maintain when you're posting or in motion. Because horses are trained by a sequence of "punishment" in the form of pressure and "reward" in the form of release, good hands know how to close to "punich" your horse by bringing him together, and relax to "reward" him for his response. Good hands are smoooth, subtle and slow, even when your horse is misbehaving."

I'm not sure why the phrase "..."great" hands are the work of a lifetime," gives me goosebumps, but it REALLY does. So much so that I've printed out this string of words and posted them in my office and barn. Great hands -- it's a noble quest, one I've decided to pursue.

Chesna Klimek and Her Amazing Halflinger, Pip

I've never been treated to anything like the freestyle performance given by Chesna Klimek and her Haflinger, Pip, at the 2012 Northwest Horse Fair All Breed Challenge, held in Albany today. Are you ready to be totally amazed? Click on the following YouTube link to come see Chesna and Pip in action:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jgVEOa7iPnA

For the first part of this routine, Pip is actually blindfolded. That's right! BLINDFOLDED! Chesna rides her horse bitless over some pretty tall jumps in the second part of the freestyle. Wonderful, WONDERFUL stuff!

To learn more about Chesna and her four horses, please visit her blog: Nayborly Farms Horse Training at http://nayborlyfarm.blogspot.com/.

Just in case you are wonderfing, Chesna and Pip did indeed win the All Breed Challenge. Congrats and GREAT job you two!

In Memory

The bulbs I planted over the graves of our four cats, the ones burried here at Sweetgrass, finally began to bloom today. Between late season snow storms, colder than average weather, and deer, it's amazing those bulbs even survived.

The first vibrant Crocus blossoms did my heart good. Planting bulbs or perennial flowers or roses or Sweetgrass is my way of remembering those I've loved, my way of knowing that we'll all eventually get to become something else. I guess you could say that recycling is nothing new.

The big pile of rocks in the background is Princess's grave. Week before last, we euthanized our beloved nineteen year-old Beagle/Whippet pound puppy and burried her near the cats. She was a lovely dog and we miss her.

Over the summer, we'll get Princess's rocks set in the ground and ready the soil. Later, in the fall, I'll select some bulbs and plant them over our faithful friend.

A Heavenly Day

Saturday, March 24 is officially the best day of 2012 so far! It was nice enough to rate a t-shirt. Lots of sunshine with a hint of cool breeze and truly magnificent. Can you believe we had snow last Thursday?

Daisy's calf began to nibble at the grass blades today, but not while I had my camera in hand. Instead, I snapped him lounging in the grass and looking quite regal. Perhaps we should call him King. What do you think?

As I quietly watched, the calf stood, reached around, and began to lick the end of his tail. The little guy's extreme flexibility was amazing, but I wasn't surprised to see him tending to his tail.

Soon after the calf was born, one of the Black Angus heifers must have stepped on the tip of his tail, resulting in a good size cut. To prevent infection, Lorenzo and I had worked together to dip the calf's tail and belly button in an iodine solution.

The calf's tail appears to be mending nicely, which is probably why it's so darn itchy.

Recovery -- An Update on Jetblue

Two months and one week ago, my blue roan filly, Jetblue, underwent emergency, life saving colic surgery at Oregon State University. Since then, she's been on stall rest with twice daily hand walks.

Today, under a brilliant blue sky, Jetblue got to go out in a small, 12 x 32 foot paddock. As I stood there, snapping a photo of Jetblue hoovering up the bits of alfalfa I'd left on the ground for her, it occurred to me that Jetblue looks like a horse.

My, how time flies.

"There is something magical about saving the life of a living thing, if you can do it. It is an affirmation of life itself, a bow to humanity, connection in a time of fragmentation, an affirmation. We can't do much, but maybe we can do this, and that makes it a sweet little miracle." ~Jon Katz

Happy Calf

A Mother's Touch

Our Charolais cow, Daisy, used to scare me. Timid and difficult to catch, Daisy never trusted anyone.

Seeing Daisy with her calf is like looking at another creature. Daisy is an attentive mother, one who takes her new role seriously. At the same time, she willingly allows us to handle her baby.

Lorenzo taught me how to catch and halter Daisy today. At first, the cow was nervous, but with Lorenzo's excellent help, she settled down and began to trust me. I'll be able to move her and the calf into the temporary manger at night.

Watching Daisy with her calf makes me realize how important a good start is, how wonderful it is to experience a mother's sweet touch.

Calf Nap

First Snow Day

It might have been the first day of Spring yesterday, but the Pacific Northwest has yet to get the memo. Late in the afternoon, it began snowing and kept at it most all night, resulting in a couple of inches of the white stuff.

This morning, Lorenzo opened the temporary corral, the manger, that we have set up for Daisy and her new little calf. The duo had overnighted there, nestled in the warm, dry straw. Here's a step-by-step photo essay of the calf's first snow day. Enjoy!

It snowed all night long. In the morning, Lorenzo opened one of the panels to the temporary manger, the one where Daisy and her calf had spent the night nestled in the warm, dry straw.

At first, the calf did not want to go out into the world. Daisy , in the way that cows do, talked to her son, encouraging him to follow her.

The calf tentatively worked his way to the edge of the corral, but when his hooves touched the snow, he bolted back into the safety of the manger.

Daisy was persistent and soon, her calf ventured into the pasture.

The calf moved slowly at first, sniffing the snow.

Then, he began to pick up speed.

Suddenly, the calf was running huge, lovely circles both up...

...and down the pasture.

He ran with such joy that the people watching him chuckled.

Then, it was time to stop and...

...make a new friend.

A Mother's Touch

Daisy is a wonderful mama to her new little bull calf. She's always checking on him, urging him to suckle, licking him. It's a treat to see these two together.

Daisy and Her New Little Bull Calf

Snow this late in March is uncommon for our part of Oregon, but that's what we have tonight. Thankfully, Lorenzo constructed a temporary shelter for Daisy and her baby earlier today. Come see by clicking on this You Tube video link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zeKCj1eq9no

It's a Boy!

Daisy's first baby, a bull calf, was born late last night. Here's some video taken right after the little guy hit the ground:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OkbBTTWasts

Thought you would like to see a couple of quick snapshots from today, so here they are.

Daisy's brother, Tad, Daisy, and Daisy's Beautiful Bull Calf

The above snapshot is sweet, but I really love the textures and tones in the following photo. What a gift to have a calf born here at Sweetgrass!

Daisy is a Charolais Cow and Her New Bull Calf is a Charolais/Black Angus Cross

We're getting a temporary shelter ready for tonight since the forecast is calling for freezing temperatures and possibly snow. More photos later...

Looking for and Seeing Princess, Miss Daisy in Waiting

Everywhere I look, I'm reminded of my nineteen year-old Beagle/Whippet dog, Princess. Last Thursday, my husband, Don, and I tearfully said goodbye to the old gal, burying her in the pet cemetery here at the ranch.

Since then, I've been looking for and seeing Princess everywhere: her favorite, now empty dog pillow; the tuft of hair the vet shaved prior to euthanizing Princess; the worn leather collar and nametags resting on our coffee table.

Today, I cleaned out my fridge and there was the last of Princess's canned dog foods, the ones she'd firmly refused all week. Her dog brush is sitting on the porch, hair from the last brushing still there.

I confess that I see Princess in all the usual places, but it's not the feeble elderly companion that left us recently. Instead, I see her stretched out sphinx-like, looking regal as she did in her younger years. I think this is Princess's way of letting me know she's okay, that she wants to be remembered as a vibrant, determined dog. A survivor with huge, endearing, brown eyes. A friend, even now.

When I lose someone dear, I always look for a sign -- something that says I'm okay. Late this afternoon, as I was near the upper pastures checking on our pregnant Charolais heifer, Daisy, a beautiful rainbow stretched across the dark dramatic sky, a message from Princess.

Seeing that rainbow made my heart skip and the burden that I've been carrying, the guilt I feel for taking Princess's life before she starved to death, lifted.

Spring at Sweetgrass is always a reminder that life is bookended by a beginning and an end.  For us, the end is Princess leaving us.  Thankfully, a new beginning is about to unfold.  Daisy is getting ready to deliver her first calf, due sometime between March 22 - 24. Our heifer will go about five days longer if her baby is a little bull calf. Here's a snapshot of Miss Daisy in waiting.

Goodbye Fair Princess

The first time my husband, Don, met Princess was at the Bonnie L. Hays Small Animal Shelter in Hillsboro, Oregon. The kids and I had phoned him to say we thought we'd found a dog.

"She's skin and bones, loaded with fleas, and she's timid around men. They're worried that she may be a biter," I'd told him.

Don's answer: "I'll be right over."

He'd walked into the meet and greet room, cupped his hands and said, "Hi, girl." Princess, who had seemed starved and lethargic, knew a good thing. She trotted right over to Don and laid her head in his hands, staring up at him adoringly. We'd found our dog, a Beagle/Whippet type cross who was then six or seven.

That was thirteen wonderful years ago, time in which we came to love the kindhearted mutt who was so good with children. Princess helped raise our daughter and son and was a delight for visiting nephews and nieces.

These past few months, Princess's health has been see-sawing back and forth. At each turn, we've done our best to support her and the good days have always been a tremendous blessing. Just a few weeks ago, Princess was tearing around the living room, playing like a puppy with Sprite.

Sadly, our Princess began to refuse food this past Monday. She lost a fair amount of motor control in her back end and seemed chilled much of the time. The most worrisome symptom was how her heart pounded erratically -- and visibly-- on the sides of her increasingly frail chest wall.

Some part of me knew it was time. On Tuesday, I gave our vet a heads up and for the past three nights, Sprite, Lei Lei, and I camped out in the living room with Princess, keeping her blanketed or turning on the propane fireplace to warm her.

Late yesterday, Don and I made the difficult decision to euthanize Princess humanely -- we called our vet and arranged for her to come here this afternoon. Thankfully, Princess's last night at home was good. She took in a bit of boiled chicken breast and rested comfortably. It was a warm night, but I left the fireplace on anyway.

Throughout the day, our dear senior dog slept more and more and seemed less and less aware. Until Don cancelled his meeetings and came home early to spend time with his Princess. When she sensed Don's presence, Princess brightened, stretching up to again lay her head in the palm of his hand, gazing lovingly at her favorite person in the world.

Today was hard, but given the chance, Don and I both agree that we would do it all again for a kind, gentle spirit like Princess.

Greener Grass

This past few weeks, we've been getting ready. Last week, we fertilized the long upper pastures and small pasture in anticipation of the usually warm March weather and we marked March 13 on the barn calendar, a best guess at a good day to move our small herd of cattle to the upper pastures.

In response, the grass bolted skyward. Everything looked good until this morning when it started snowing sideways. Much of the day was blustery and a wintery bone chilling cold.

The foul weather didn't deter Lorenzo. He decided to do a practice run by taking our Black Angus heifers, Libbey and Tove to greener grass. The journey involved walking Libbey and Tove past three very excited horses -- Irish is known to enjoy charging the cows -- and it went off without incident. All the way, Lorenzo spoke the language of horses and cattle. As if by magic, the horses listened to Lorenzo's voice, quieting as he asked them to.

Despite the stormy conditions, Libbey and Tove had a grand time grazing in the snow.

If all goes well, we'll move all four cattle to upper pasture tomorrow and begin work to restore the lower pastures. Our Charolais heifer, Daisy, is due to deliver her calf the last week in March or the first week of April. Will keep you posted.

Give Me a Red Coat

Princess in Her Red Coat

Give Me a Red Coat 

by Susan Fay

Give me a red coat

That I may cover my years

And walk with you as I have

These past twelve

~

Make me again sleek

And fast as the wind

Cavorting with life

My energy strong

~

Give me a red coat

That you may not look

Upon my frail

Boney frame

~

Make my heart beat strong

As my utterly charming

And sincere brown eyes gaze

Up at you in canine adoration

~

Make my tail wag so you'll know

You've been my world

Since that glorious day

When you walked

Into the pound and, from the long row of dogs

When I was already seven years old,

You reached out and

Made me yours

~

Give me a red coat

To hide my shame

For the extra work demanded by my nineteen years

The special food you so lovingly prepare

The hand feeding I adore,

Not so much for the food

As for the chance to lick your fingers

There's the Adequan

You draw up into the syringe twice weekly

Carefully injecting it into my muscles

To help stave off

The terrible pain in my joints

~

Even now, in my winter

I will run like a pup

On our walks to the barn

So you can feel my joy

At being your dog

My joy that you are my human

~

I ask God to make me ready

For the end that is nearing

When the only appetite I'm left

Is that of your comfort

~

And when I am done with this life

~

Bury me in my red coat

So your last glimpse of me in this form

Is not of ravaged body, but beauty and kindness

And a life well lived

Give me a final resting place

In sight of the front door

So that you may see the flowers and blossoms

You'll surely plant over me

~

Be sure, dear one, when your time draws near

And it's time to cover your years

To follow my example

By flaunting a marvelous red coat

So that you, too

May go in style

~

Give Me a Red Coat, copyright 2012 by Susan Fay. All rights reserved. If you would like to reprint this poem, please contact me at susan.fay@coho.net. Thank you!