Fence, Fence, Wherefore art Thou Fence?

Last weekend, according to our non-systematic winter-prep plan, we worked on fencing. Yes, fencing. In our grand plans, fencing solves two major areas of frustration for us: Animal control and snow drift management.

--------LATE MAY---------

"Mom…the cows are out of the fence."

"Mmmhmm" I respond distractedly from the kitchen.

"Cows! Go BACK to your fence!" Ryan has pushed open the front door,
poked his head through and is demanding the stray bovines return to their
rightful location.

"COWS? Where???" The situation finally sinks in, and I run to my front
window. The two cows, normally corralled behind the fence in the pasture (and I
use the term fence loosely here) were now traipsing throughout my front
flowerbeds, munching and, well, doing another inappropriate things cows do.
Wherever they please. Because they don’t realize that cowpies don’t belong on
the driveway, or truly, in any other well-trodden area for that matter.

Drying my hands on the towel I had grabbed in my haste to the window, I
panic. WHAT am I going to do? These cows, though small and quite
docile, are still cows. They don’t exactly follow me like our bossy
pet sheep, and I cannot simply walk back to the pasture with them patiently
following. And husband? In route between Washington and Iowa, cell-phone-less and
quite unavailable for aid in this endeavor to corral said bovines. Don't forget
the two boys- not old enough to manage themselves alone.

Think think think. I watch as they head to another flower bed. Plop.
"Ahh! Stop that!" I lose composure momentarily.
I don't have time to think! Wait, what did Mike say? Cows like
apples- that's right- he collects dropped apples from a friend to give to his "girls". I rush to the fridge- one apple-check. Maybe they will also like other
things, like fresh asparagus- yes, possibly! Worth a shot, no? I reason these
things to myself while fastening on my boots, Ryan's boots, and coats for the
two boys. I hoist David to my hip, and hand Ryan the apple. I explain my plan to
Ryan, who heads out with determination.

"HERE! Cows! EAT THIS APPLE!!!" He charges toward the cows with determination and glee.

The cows, however, do not return this glee. Nor do they show the slightest
bit of interest beyond that of getting as far away from the small human as
possible. Unfortunately for me, their flee-ing did not take them toward their
pasture. Rather, they cared much less about what direction they headed, the only
criterion being that it was away from me- toting the smallest human, and the
skipping, loud larger one walking with us.

For half an hour we continue an awkward dance of sorts with our cows. Two
steps left, turn, gallop, turn, swoop. Plop. Plop. David, nearly 20 pounds, is
starting to get heavy. Ryan, as energetic as he is, is torn between
being exasperated with the cows and the thrill of the hunt. The
cows don't want fresh asparagus, apples, hand-held grass or any other sort of
thing we have to offer. I have tried luring, cajoling, sweet talking, demanding,
and at this point, I am simply tired.

When he returns, I tell myself, we will be fixing this
fence! But that was the thing- I couldn't even see where they got out. It
looked quite intact, and it sunk in that even if I were able to conjure up a way
to return the cows to their rightful location, they had a way to simply escape
that I couldn't see, let alone fix.

Failure, however, was not an option. The freshly sprouted cornfields
surrounding our house were prime munching ground, and if the cows wandered that
way and realized the goldmine they had at their hoof-tips, I would have a whole
new set of worries on my hands.

I both wished a person would happen by and dreaded it, longing for another set of able hands yet knowing how rediculously dressed I was, baby on hip, chasing cows with apples and asparagus spears.

It was late by this point, so I stuck my tongue out at the cows, stomped inside, and hurriedly lay the boys down to bed. David, worn out from the excitement, was quickly asleep and Ryan was not far behind him. With both hands free I returned outside with renewed determination. I grabbed a bucket and filled it with
oats- the only grain I had on hand. In my other hand I held a rope
with a slip knot I had seen Phil use when he moved them once.

I sauntered up to the skitterish animals, and they munched grass, eyeing me with curiosity.

"That's right guys...look at this YUMMY food..." I crooned. "Why don't you
come see how good it tastes? There's no harm in a taste, right?" The light brown
one brought up his head, and to my delight started walking toward me. "That's
right...here, have a taste" calmly, as sweetly as I could muster for two ornery
cows, I lowered the bucket so the first one could take a few mouthfulls of
grain. As soon as his head was lowered and he was in range, I slipped the noose
over his head, carefully, quietly. Then, I lifted the bucket. He walked a bit
after the grain, but decided he didn't like my direction. "ho ho! I have you
now, cow!" Clearly, I and my rope had gained the advantage. With exhaustion my
inhibitions fell to the wayside and I leaned toward the pasture with all of my
might. Maybe he realized that you just shouldn't mess with a mom who's tired, or
maybe he just wanted some more oats, but at this point he just gave in. He
walked dutifully behind me to the pasture gate. I swung it open and led him
inside.

Now, Mike always says you have to be smarter than the cows. As I have learned with both chickens and sheep, this is true with most animals. The wisdom and ways you may think are going to work will normally fail. You can rarely chase animals in the direction you want them to go. Herding works with some, bribing with others. Slowly but surely I have begun to "understand" the
different species in our petting zoo. These cows? They like to be together. If one gets out and the other is in, OH my, do we get an earful. Also? There is a leader, and the other one will almost always follow behind him (if you take the follower, the leader could care less, for some reason). Thankfully for me, the
one I had captured was the head honcho of the twosome, and the second cow, upon seeing that there was Food! To be had! That might be good! sauntered along behind him, right into the pasture.

Ahahahaha! VICTORY! I closed the gate and walked the fence line, still unable to detect how they had escaped in the first place. But, it was late, and I knew it would at least be morning until they would try another Houdini. I went inside and called one of my farmer friends- "I need help. Can you come check my fence tomorrow morning?"

"Sure, what's going on??"

Ahh, community.

---------------------------
Since then, we have pounded down poles, replaced gates, moved various animals to different areas, and put up for a number of months with "free range sheep", as Neighbor Mike warily calls them. With harvest coming, and winter not too far behind it, a solid fence will be quite necessary. We have mostly wire fencing, but noticed that wood fencing has a dual purpose in that it also works to capture and direct snow. So, in phase two of our fencing project, we will be extending our windbreak and directing the snow that comes in a new and specific way using wood fencing.
Last weekend we built a gate and four sections of fence, fixing the makeshift enclosure and turning it into a fence a normal farmer would even appreciate. I say we...but truly I was mostly food-lady, kid-manager, and conversationalist. The only actual work I got to do was remove nails from some of the recycled lumber we used. I think it turned out nicely. And, the thought of not having to chase animals around the property with a baby on my hip? Priceless.

Pumpkin Bars and Cows

It's early morning here and the house is filled with the aroma of pumpkin- enticing me to snack on a few of the cream-cheese covered goodies before we head out the door to church. It is still warm here- 82 yesterday - but the humidity is gone and the mornings are crisp, lacking the looming haze of summer.

Harvest has started- a time of all-consuming work for our neighbors. Last year about this time, I heard an older friend mention that once harvest started, the roads would be treacherous until winter. I chuckled at the comment back then- thinking, "Right, those two vehicles I passed yesterday really were overwhelming!" The fact is, the roads are so barren here that even during harvest they don't begin to compare to even Washington side-street traffic.

A few days ago I was talking with the Mayor of my small town and we started discussing his trucking business - where he is the safety director. They haul seed corn this time of year for one of the local seed companies. He said he had not had a day off since Labor Day, and probably wouldn't see a break in the schedule for three more weeks. The guys, he said, usually work from about 4am to 11pm this time of year. Seven days a week.

At night you can see pairs of headlights slowly crawling across the landscape miles away. With hundreds of acres to harvest (sometimes thousands) our farmers have to be out there every minute the weather will permit them to be.

It has me thinking, though- maybe the roads are treacherous not because there are thousands of people driving them, but because the people who ARE on the roads are working on weeks of little to no sleep.

By the way- agricultural work pays no overtime.

_____________

With winter around the corner, I have noticed that we are getting better about preparing for the season. Last year we bumbled into it without much thought to preparation. This year we are replacing storm windows in the dining room, replacing our furnace, sweeping the chimneys, caulking around windows and replacing weather-stripping on doors. It feels great to work toward a warmer house and therefore a warmer winter.

In doing our prep work, we needed to address the machine shed. Last spring during a windstorm one of the doors on the large Morton building did cartwheels over a friend's camper and our windbreak. After dragging the door back from the farmer's unplanted field, it sat, crumpled, all summer. Upon calling the manufacturer of our machine shed, I was given an estimated replacement cost of $3500. Since we do have homeowners insurance, it would have only cost us our deductible of $1000. Not too excited about this extra and unexpected expense, we put it off until fall. However, we have a farmer who rents half of the building from us, and it was necessary that we replace the door before winter so that all of his machinery doesn't end up covered with snow.

How I know that we are becoming more like a farm family and less like a city family is how this door was replaced. Because we could have hired it done. Or jumped early on and bought a new track, new metal, and new wood to build another door (since I am married to a carpenter) and spent only around $700.

But we didn't. And three weeks ago Phil, through work, replaced the siding on an old barn. One of the items removed was this large section of track (a $300 value new). They didn't want it, and were happy to send it home with Phil. With some minor adaptations, he was able to put it up on our machine shed. With help (at different times) from his dad and my dad, the sheet metal was removed from the old door and salvaged. We bought new wood to build a frame and within a few days and collaboration from both father's and Phil's grandpa, our entire door was replaced. With hardware and all, we put about $250 into the door. Now, granted, it isn't new, and it isn't glamorous. It needs to be cleaned and painted - but you know what? Even in its ugly state, it works. It keeps heat in and snow out. The duct-tape and shoestring solution to a huge problem - done with patience and practicality.

And it's a good thing to have it fixed- because we have two of these guys in there now. Yes, the petting zoo grows. We can't get too attached to these ones, though, because they are not going to be life-long members of the family, if you know what I mean. So, even though they are bottlefed calves, Phil is in charge of their caretaking.

Calves? WHAT are you guys doing with cows?

Good question. Its another part of rural living, I suppose. Strange opportunities come your way quite often, we are finding. One of Phil's coworkers has a sister who owns a dairy in Wisconsin (probably the best colby cheese I have ever tasted). When they have male calves, they don't have much use for them- and since they have to be bottle-fed, they usually sell them for a pretty low price. She cut her brother a deal, and he drove up to pick up two calves- one for us and one for him. He provides the milk-replacer and the cows, and we feed and graze them. So, the trade is a cow for labor and land. So, winter preparations also now include making barn space for the sheep and cows and putting up adequate hay. Phew. I'm tired even writing it.

________________

We have still been working on manners with Ryan. My favorite new phrases from him is "Please May I."

Cookie!

Is that how you ask?

Please may i....have a Cookie!

Sure!

And though it fits almost every situation, he does take it a bit out of context:

(Mom singing)

Stop it!

That's not nice, Ryan.

Please may I...Stop it!

Grandpa! Come to dinner! Please may I...have you sit down!

He also shows some interesting affection to his little brother. Mostly, he doesn't pay a lot of attention to David, except for telling me when he is "mad". Yesterday we were driving between towns, and David decided he was hungry and just might die if he didn't eat RIGHT NOW!! At one point his cries stopped for a moment, and I glanced back in the rear view mirror. Here was Ryan, holding his little brother's hand like "It's OK kid, it's going to be just fine."

Melts a mamma's heart.