First stop: the big tractor shed. I talk to the kittens (even if I don't see them) in my little "kitty cat" voice so they get used to hearing me. Wild mama Ginger showed up with 4 little ones about two weeks ago, and I got my hands on her two "yellow" ones this morning.
The 2 dark ones are females, the 2 yellow ones are males.
Couldn't get all 4 of them in one photo. Better luck next time?
Next stop: the old granary to feed Ginger's sister Freddie. Freddie has babies, too, but she hasn't brought them out for public display yet. Then on to the hay barn. Indira was out and about, so Pat and I took the opportunity to love on her babies.
Two males. This is definitely the year of the tom cat!
Pat put fresh hay in their cage and mom & babies snuggled in.
This has been a crazy year for cats "stealing" babies, families moving in together, and mothers dragging their youngsters from one locale to another. That's why Indira and her little ones are caged for now.
Marmalade's four are growing and doing well. They started out in the lumber shed, but now hang out under the hay barn.
Yup, four little toms.
After a stop at the milk barn to visit with friends (both human and feline), I finally started my slow stroll down the farm road to the highway.
The obligatory photo of Pilot Mountain.
Weldon has started cutting the wheat.
The wheat is chopped as silage to feed the cows until the corn silage is ready this fall.
Heading home. Notice the Sauratown Mountains behind/above the trees, center right.
A stop at the "poopy pond" to see the ducks.
The mom in the above photo has older babies following her. If you look up and to the right of the mother's head, in the first band of green grass, you'll see a little black spot. That's Hansel (a cat, of course), silently hoping for some dessert. He finally gave up and headed to the shade of our front yard to "catnap" the morning away.
Here's another mom with "babier" ducklings in her wake.
I wasn't home long before Mom Edith came by with strawberries. She had hulled and cut up three flats for me, so I simply had to add sugar and put them in freezer boxes. The other flat of fresh berries went straight to the fridge for our enjoyment over the next few days.
Mmmm. Berries.
If every morning were as sweet and slow and serene as this one, I could totally live on a farm!
What do farmers do on a rainy Sunday when they want to get off the farm? Well, they go visit another farm, of course. This past week, Dr. Taft told Weldon about his prolific ewes, one of which had quadruplets and another that had triplets. He invited us to come see them, so we did.
We drove through the rain to Stauber Farm and Dr. Taft met us at the door. I couldn't help but notice his two beautiful cats in the porch, snuggled together on a fat, round cushion. We need a huge porch with lots of fat, round cushions for all our cats, right?
We crossed the highway, went through a couple gates, and entered the sheepfold. He raises St. Croix Sheep, and you can read about them on his website. (Just click on Stauber Farm above.)
As we walked, Dr. Taft updated us on the sheep. Another ewe had had quadruplets last night! He said his sheep hadn't birthed quadruplets in about six years, so this has been quite the spring. Now I'll just post some pics, because I don't know what else to say, other than they were totally cute, especially the little lambs with their high-pitched bleats.
Don't tell the sheep, but there are some little chicks hiding out in another room of the sheep house, staying cozy under a warming lamp.
The guys below didn't make a peep but kept a close eye on us, perhaps ensuring we weren't up to any shenanigans.
Thank you, Dr. Taft, for introducing us to your delightful animals. Good luck with all those babies!
The phone rang just before Weldon opened the door to head out for morning chores. He answered it, and I could hear his side of the conversation. When he hung up, I asked, "Was that Pat?"
"Yes."
"A baby calf?"
"Yes."
"Sure am glad it wasn't born yesterday morning! I'll be out shortly." Yesterday morning it was -2°; this morning, by comparison, it's a balmy 20°.
A few minutes later, while I was getting the cat food ready, the phone rang again. "Hi. It's Pat. Get out here as soon as you can. We might need your help. It's twins!"
By the time I got down to the barn, the babies were safely ensconced in the milk parlor and Weldon was busily cleaning them up with warm water from the hose. It was like a sauna bath with steam filling the whole room. He washed while Pat and I dried.
We then carried them to a quilt by the stove, dried them off more thoroughly, and covered them with another quilt. Pat started asking about the French and Spanish words for "cold." It didn't take long before she had them named: Fria (the little heifer, above left) and Frio (the little bull, complete with bull's-eyes, above right).
We then went out to feed the bigger baby calves and I got a picture of the proud momma. Just the night before we had commented on how huge she was. Now we knew why!
Before I headed back to the house, Fria and Frio were still shivering under their quilt. By now (an hour or two later), I bet they're comfy cozy and have a number of cats sitting atop them to ensure they are feeling safe and loved. If you look closely (just above Frio's head), you will see little Minnie already contemplating the possibilities.
This morning I walked up to the front of the church carrying a "Honey Buns" box filled with the paraphernalia I would need to do the Children's Message. One little guy called out, "Oh, yeah! Honey Buns!" Sorry, buddy, but there are no Honey Buns in the box.
Good morning, children. One of my favorite chapters in the Bible is John 1. I could read the whole thing to you and then read it again. But, instead, I'll just read two verses. First, do you know some other names for Jesus?
"God!" "Lord!" "Mary!"
Uhm, no. Good try, but Mary was the mother of Jesus. I don't think anyone ever called him Mary.
"Savior!" "Emmanuel!"
Good job! Another one of his names is "Light of the World." Now listen to verses 4 and 5 from John, chapter 1. "The life of Jesus gave light to everyone. The light keeps shining in the dark, and darkness can never put it out."
I took Weldon's big, black Mag-Lite from the box and turned it on. Let's see if I can put out this light. I took a white cloth napkin from the box and laid it over the light. Is the light gone?
"No!!"
Okay, let me try this again. Next I doubled the napkin. Is the light gone?
"No!!"
One of the boys said, "Hey, try that black thing," as he pointed to a black woolen scarf in my box. Good idea. I put it over the flashlight asking, Is the light gone? Mmmm. This time they had to look more carefully, so I asked one of the children to come and peek under the scarf.
"Yup! The light is still shining!" He was pretty excited. One by one, the children had moved closer and closer to me.
Next, I wrapped the flashlight in the white cloth and the black scarf, laid it on the floor, and covered it with the box. Okay, someone will have to come and peek under here and see if the light is still shining. One little girl got her face down low and close, and then ALL the kids were huddled around the little 8" by 12" Honey Buns box, trying to get a glimpse of that flashlight.
Slipping my hand under the box, I unwrapped the flashlight. Suddenly, they all lifted their heads (and maybe their hands!) and with one voice cried out, "YAY!!!"
Well, I certainly wasn't expecting that response. Even now, the memory puts a smile on my face. The darkness CANNOT put out the Light ... and that IS something to cheer about!
Yes, I'm a writer. Yes, I wrote 50,278 words during National Novel Writing Month (November). Yes, I have posted my NaNoWriMo Winner Badge! Yes, I plan to tell you more about my experience with NaNo on my Piece o' Cake blog ... soon, but not today.
No, I have not forgotten about my blogs. No, I have not posted to them since October. No, I am not going to give you a wonderful list of excuses.
I started this blog on July 6, 2006, with a story about Weldon's mom. Seven-and-a-half years later, she still impresses and amazes me and makes me laugh.
This is Edith a year ago. I didn't have my camera today, but she still looks the same.
Last night Pat informed us that she would have some other obligations to attend to in the morning, so she wouldn't be able to help with chores. The phone rang this morning just before seven o'clock. It was Mom Edith. "Take your cell phone when you go out to chores and call me when you're ready to feed the calves. I'll come down to help."
Eighty-seven years old and always willing to help in any way she can. Impressive! Well, I certainly wasn't going to turn down her kind offer, so I slipped my phone into my coat pocket. After feeding and watering all the kitty cats and doing a few other little tasks, I called Edith. She came down, we chatted a bit while we waited for Weldon to finish what he was doing, and then we all trudged to the calf shed.
Yeah, and these are last year's calves, too. I didn't have my camera, remember?
With each of us holding two bottles, the six young 'uns were fed in no time. Weldon attempted to feed the youngest calf, born just the night before, but she wasn't very interested. Back to the milk barn we went.
Weldon started getting the milking system ready, I started washing bottles and buckets, and Edith filled two small buckets with water to carry back to the older calves. As she headed to the door, Weldon said, "Leave those, Mother. I'm going back to the calves in just a minute and I will carry them out."
Edith continued to the door and, as she walked out with a bucket in each hand, said, "I don't listen very well."
Do you see what has happened here? I retired from cows, and now I'm
not musing (nor complaining) so much about life on the farm.
However, today I have a strange story to tell you and then a few lovely photos ... to take your mind off the story.
This
morning, after Pat and I fed the kitties and calves, Weldon announced
that a bull calf had been born. He picked it up with the Bobcat and moved it into a pen with Maegan, the most-recently born little female. Weldon and Pat continued with morning chores and I went back to
the house to get ready for church.
When we got home from church, Weldon headed
out to feed the new baby calf and get the small silo ready for the last
of the corn that is still standing in the fields. He had been out for
about half an hour when I heard the door open. "Cindy?" he called. "Come
here, please."
This is his story: "I went out to feed
the calf. He took the bottle greedily, chugging down the milk. He had
finished about half the bottle, made a couple raucous bleats ...
b-aa-aa-aa, b-aa-aa-aa ... fell over, gasped, and died."
WHAT???
He told me the same story again, adding, "In 61 years on the farm, I've
never seen such a thing. I'm going to bury him now."
Weldon's
only guess was that the calf's esophagus was deformed, perhaps going to
its lungs instead of its stomach. Ah, life on the farm. What can I say?
There is also beauty here. Good thing, or I'd be a crazy lady, right? No comments from the peanut gallery! Enjoy.
P.S. In November I will be participating in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I will not be attempting a novel, but I will be writing the book that I began so eagerly almost two years ago. 50,000 words in 30 days. Yes! I will do it! Pray for me :)
If you follow this blog, you've met Mrs. Mewer before.
On July 4th or 5th, we knew she had had her babies, but we didn't know where or how many. Pat just happened to see Mrs. Mewer sometime later in the hay shed behind the barn
stall area. She was also pretty certain there were SIX babies in there.
I had started making regular trips to the hay shed, sitting quietly on a pallet or softly speaking in kitty-talk. Sometimes Mrs. Mewer was there, sometimes not; but I never saw the kittens ... until five days ago. Mrs. Mewer had them out in the open and, when she
heard me coming, she came towards me, but the kittens scampered for
safety amongst the hay bales. However, before they got that far, my camera was able to verify that there were, indeed, six of them.
* * * *
This afternoon, as I finished "washing" the car, I heard Pat down at the barn calling for me. It took a little while, but I finally figured out she was telling me that Mrs. Mewer was moving her babies.
I dashed into the house, grabbed my camera, and ran down to the barn. Pat told me that these two had followed Mrs. Mewer from the hay bales to the back door of the old milk barn. They seemed uncertain as to what to do or where to go, so Pat had picked them up and put them in a cardboard box.
In the meantime, Mrs. Mewer went back to the hay bales, this time asking just one to follow her back to the barn. Unfortunately, when he got there, something spooked him and he scurried under the freezer.
Pat and I waited patiently, and, sure enough, Mrs. Mewer headed for the hay shed. This time it was two babies who followed her.
It was amazing to watch and wonder how she communicated with her babies, sometimes having two follow her, sometimes just one.
Mom had one more baby to bring to their new home. I think she was wanting to move more quickly this time, knowing that rain was on the way. No time for monkey business.
The one kitten was still under the freezer, so when Weldon went down to do chores, he moved the freezer and I was able to use a broom to get him moving in the right direction. Weldon then scooped him up and I put him in the box with the others.
Not that they wanted to stay put. Most of them insisted on climbing out and Mrs. Mewer just ignored them. I think she was plumb worn out from nursing six little ones for over a month.
* * * *
Weldon just came in from chores and said that Pat put out some soft food for the kittens and they chowed down. Yup, they were hungry! These cats are so smart. Mrs. Mewer knew she didn't have enough milk for them anymore, and she also knew where she could get some food for them.
