Clampett Outdoors

Clampett has gotten warm and dry in the house, but she needs more groceries. Her crooked little back legs won't hold her up to nurse, which means we have to bring breakfast to her. You may think that the milk you buy in the grocery store is "cow's milk," but Clampett would disagree. She needs the real, fresh, unpasteurized and unhomogenized product, and there's only one place around here to get it.

Our beef cows are not accustomed to being milked by a human. They have to be "persuaded" to stand still long enough to get the job done. We hope Clampett's mama is about to put her bovine head into the head catch, to the right in this photo. As she tries to walk between the vertical bars, her shoulders will push them shut and she will be immobilized.

On second thought, "immobilized" is not quite the right word. The milker girls will still have to be cagey and careful, in order not to be stomped by this mama's 1000 pounds of beefy frame. John is giving the cow incentive to get her mind on something other than nailing his daughters with a back hoof. Attitude is everything, mama cow, and we want you to have a good one.

Lots can go wrong when you're trying to milk a beef cow. First is the aforementioned projectile back hoof. Even if it doesn't hit you, it is likely to knock over your bucket of milk.

The cow's second line of defense is her tail. Unlike the hoof, a cow tail can't maim you. But a powerful, wet, stinging swish to the face can be a strong deterrent to milking, which is what the cow hopes to provide. So John and Greg, our employee, take turns keeping the tail out of Audrey and Merrill's eyes.

The milking was a success and Clampett has gained enough strength to drink from a bottle--no more tube feeding. The next step is for her to learn to feed herself. We'd like to get out of the loop, but her legs are crooked and not very strong.

Just take a look at that back left leg!

Audrey gives her a boost.....

....and points her in the right direction.

All the attention has paid off. After a day of human intervention, Clampett's appetite is strong, and her legs are strong enough to satisfy that appetite.

She's ready for an ear tag and life in the calving pen with all the other cows.

Ain't life grand?

Saving Clampett

Lots of times, a hard winter can mean more calving difficulty come spring. This year is no exception.

The twin to this calf was born deformed and dead. This sister was small, weak, and unable to pick herself up out of her cold birthday mud. By the time we found her at six in the morning, she was listless and barely able to move. Her temperature, normally 101 F for a calf, had dropped to 95 degrees. She was headed for dead.

We rushed her to the hospital on the back of a four wheeler. The hospital in this case is our lunchroom, where John held her icicle legs and gave her an invigorating rubdown, drying her off and encouraging her heart to pump. A normal calf, even a newborn, would be vigorously trying to kick him away, but this little gal was too cold to care.

The dog bed turned into a calf bed, and we piled on the heat: hot water bottles, blankets, radiators, and a heating pad under the rugs, all ministering warmth and life while we prayed and waited.

Since the calf couldn't stand, we knew she hadn't had a first meal. Audrey is offering her some electrolytes and colostrum, but the calf is too far gone to suck from the bottle. Not too far gone, however, to clamp her little calf teeth shut. Hence her nickname: Clampett.

If you can't suck from a bottle, you get the tube. Audrey has slid the long rubber piping down the calf's esophagus, and is squeezing warm, nutritious liquids into Clampett's stomach.

I don't usually go for cattle in the house, but, in this case, it worked. After a few hours of being cocooned in the warmth, Clampett's temp is normal, her head up, and her eyes perky.

If she could stand up to nurse from her mother, she could leave off being a dog and return to the bovine world. But, like her deformed twin sister, her legs aren't quite right. She will need help getting her mama's milk---a story for another day.

Miracle Forthcoming

I'm refinishing my wood floors. This is my dining room.

This is my office.

This is my kitchen.

This is my living room.

And, in eighteen days, I am hosting a party for about a hundred people.

With God, all things are possible.

Waiting........

We're still waiting for March to go out like a lamb, and here it is April!

Hope in the Basement

Spring is not popping up out of bed with a spry leap this year, and I'm sorry for it. She's put her feet on the floor a time or two, but howling winds and grey skies send her scuttling quickly back under the covers.

The army of coats hanging in the mudroom is still on active duty.

But there's a secret weapon---hope--- sprouting in the basement.

(Hope photo by Merrill)

Through a glass, darkly

A dark world woke up slowly outside my upstairs glass. Shadows thinned, foggy shapes became clear, vision uncloudy. Now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face. Lord, pull the clouds of the world back from my thoughts, cut through my dullness, that I may see you today.

Shopping, Female Style

Most of the guys I know have one of two shopping styles. Manly Shopping Style One has been documented in this blog before. Check it out here.

Manly Shopping Style Two is aptly named by my friend Diane: "Sight it- shoot it-bag it."

Friday was definitely not a male shopping day.

Looking for a dress for Audrey to wear to graduation, we traipsed through Gordman's, Penney's, Target, Von Maur, Dillards, Christopher & Banks, The Gap, Old Navy, New York&Co., Younkers, and Kohl's.

Times have changed since I used to haul four little stair-steps to the big city for a day of sight it-shoot it-bag it errands. However, I'm not sure I wound up any less tired on Friday, and we still don't have an outfit for Audrey.

Thanks for a fun day, anyway, girls. Looks like it's time to dust off the sewing machine.

Sudoku

WeDuSudoku.

DoUSudoku?

To try your hand at these logic puzzles, look in today's paper. If you really get hooked, as we might be, go here . Choose your degree of difficulty on the left, and then print out all you want. Stumped? Try here for solution strategies.

The Home Stretch

Audrey's in the homeschool home stretch.


Four more weeks of physics. Four weeks of serious cleaning for a graduation open house; four weeks to bake a hundred slices of cheesecake.







Drawing by Rachel, 2000




When our first child was born, my grandmama said, "You and John have set your feet on a long road." She was right.


Four weeks to a proud milestone in a good, long road.






Photography by Stephanie S., 2007

Good Morning America, How Are You?

In Nebraska, things are just fine.

In a Bony Light*

Our lawn looks like a graveyard. Everything that died in Nebraska this winter has been dragged into our square footage. Dogasaurus is saving up food for the nuclear holocaust. I just hope she buries all her loot before the start of lawn mowing season.



*with thanks to fans of Charles Dickens' Our Mutual Friend for the post title.

Music

I wish that you could hear what I'm hearing right now.













One picture may carry the weight of a thousand words, but a thousand pictures can't carry a tune.








Sometimes I just stop - to listen and be thankful and wonder, why am I so blessed?

Crayfishing

Every now and then we run across a crayfish.
          Crawfish.
          Crawdad.
          Crawdaddy maybe, if you live in the deep South.



Maybe what you call it depends on where you got it. If you order it through a catalog, if it comes vacuum sealed in clear thick plastic, with bright pink dye shot through its important internal organs, it's probably a crayfish.

Erica is dissecting a crayfish.

If its internal organs are all the color of pond-bottom mud, and you're planning to chase your sister with it, I'd say it's a crawdad.

Sam's crawdad.

Honking Geese

Geese honk when they fly overhead on their migratory treks to and from Canada. Southbound honks echo into the autumn skies with a plaintive sound, reminding me that the glory days of summer are over, the warmth of fall quicky expiring.

But this time of year, the loud cacophony in the northbound lanes sounds happy and hopeful to me. It says Spring!

Very occasionally, a pair of low-flying birds is silent, and I can hear the powerful whoosh of their wings against the air as they pass. But mostly these joyful, discordant crowds are above the trees where the din of their nasal honks drowns quiet wing strokes.

I wondered why geese nearly always honk when they fly, so I did a little internet search.

Now you know.

Good Morning! The Sun is Shining!

Merrill's curtain faces east. It dresses up morning's first rays with a sprinking of cut flowers before whispering "wake up, wake up."

Poor Merrill doesn't pop out of bed in the a.m. like I do, fully awake and rarin' to go. Petals gently falling through delicate sunshine will never persuade her to open her eyes. If we ever get around to redecorating her room, we'll have to filter the sun's greeting through something a little more powerful.....stampeding horses, maybe.

Hard Working Man

Zero degrees out when we woke up this morning!

Shadows

Day's End

I'm liking our new habit of walking together in the evenings. Sometimes we take a horse; always we leave behind the cell phones.

It is a good chance to shed the day's busyness, to slow down, to inhale peace.

Thanks to Merrill for the photo.

Guns

First it was Winchester '73. We settled in to watch the old classic from John's youth, in celebration of his birthday last week.

Winchester '73 is the guy's version of a Jane Austen chick flick -- the same thing happens over and over.

Austen's next scene is always about some encounter between males and females--who's going to marry whom?

Jimmy Stewart's next scene is always about some encounter between the good guys and the bad guys--who's going to shoot whom?

Next in the movie queue was Sergeant York, since the homeschool history class is studying WWI- the Great War.
Then came real life. Saturday woke us up with a strong sense of spring in the air, inviting my own hero into the back yard with his gun and one of his girls.

The good guys won every time.