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.