New Cow

After all the planning and thinking and waiting, we finally got a new cow.  Sunflower is a heifer, expecting her first calf in December.

She just a little bit bigger than jerky.  She was nervous and hesitant when she arrived, but my husband was able to walk her out to the pasture.

At first Christina and Sunflower jumped around and did some head butting, but quickly they settled down to their favorite cow pastime, grazing.

Sunflower's udder looks so tiny, like a little girl udder.  We're told that it will swell up so big before she calves that we'll wonder how she walks.

Warm and Well Fed

We have a new fireplace insert!  What a joyous Thanksgiving — good food, wonderful family, and a roasty toasty house. 

This insert was the highest efficiency (88%) and the lowest air emissions (2.6g) that fit in our fireplace spot.  We debated installing it ourselves, but my husband begged out.  They installed it quickly and we aren't worrying about burning the house down by having installed it wrong.

Because our furnace is electric, we live with a pretty cool house in the winter to save energy.  I've read that wood heat is one of the most carbon neutral because the trees absorb carbon as they grow and burning doesn't release any more carbon than if they were to decompose.  So, we loaded the fireplace up and warmed the house.  We all love it.

Now that we know Christina was pregnant, I'm beginning to notice where she was showing.  Cows' rumens are so big, that it's not easy to tell.  But now I see a big roundness to her belly, especially toward the back.  Here a shot of her last week before pepper was born.

And here is a shot of her this morning when we milked.  Doesn't she look down right skinny?! 

Our Thanksgiving dinner was largely grown at home food, with a healthy helping of Idaho grown food, and just a touch of out-of-state things (like cranberries and sugar).  It is glorious to eat on my grandma's beautiful china, sitting at table with the people I love most in this world, eating food that God hand fed us.  There is much to be grateful for.

Turning the Corner

Christina standing out in the pasture — it's a beautiful sight.  It's been a day and a half since we gave her calcium and we are calling the milk fever over.  Milking is beginning to fall into a normal pattern but we're still re-remembering every habit.  Pretty soon we're hoping to make it to the cow shed with *all* the things we need instead of just most of them.

As I was worried that Christina wasn't really pregnant (= no milk), we've also been dealing with no eggs.  Over two weeks ago we butchered and we haven't seen an egg since.  We've gotten by with flax seed in baking and frozen eggs, but I'd like some eggs from our almost 40 hens who are eating well.  Today we found an egg.  Praise God!  Maybe they're finally getting started.

Waiting four days after antibiotics means our first fresh milk will be Thursday.  Our eggs are coming on.  Our time of scarcity has turned into abundance!  It's a reminder that God's abundance is never farther than right around the corner.

Up and Down

It's been an up and down day.  Christina went down yesterday about 5pm.  We gave her medicine and she got up but half an hour later she was down again.  We left her alone to see if her would get better on her own, but after an hour, she wasn't recovering.

We had one dose of drench left and gave it go her.  We called the wonderful people we bought her from and asked advice.  They said that if she wasn't eating enthusiastically we should give her another bottle of calcium under the skin.  In we went to get everything ready but when we came back out, Christina was standing up looking at us.  Well, you can't poke a cow in the neck whose got some gumption in her.  She continued doing well until 10pm, our last check of the night.  Then she was laying down, her ears felt pretty cool, and her nose was dry.  We had one dose of calcium gel left and she took it. 

In the cold dark night, we hung out with her for a while, but her nose stayed dry and she was still laying down.  Back in for the needle and calcium.  We got everything ready, Brian pulled her skin up and began to set the needle when she lept to her feet and walked off.  Well OK!  Any cow who can run away must be doing okay.

This morning we found her standing and eating.  Her ears feel downright warm.  She may be through this challenge.

Her milk is really starting to come in; as we washed her to get ready for milking, all four quarters just streamed out.  Pepper was able to be very helpful with milking.  He cleaned out one quarter and worked on another. He's still such a baby; we have to lead him to the teet and help him find it when he pops off. 

Now we have a new problem.  A CMT test of her milk showed two quarters with some infection.  I've heard that mastitis is really common after milk fever so now we deal with that.  After shoving needles through her skin, slipping these little tubes into her teets was easy and smooth.

When we were finally done, we let pepper out to play.  Jerky reached through the fence to kiss his little brother. 

Last year milk fever was so terrifying for me.  This year I felt like we knew what to do and had to stuff to do it.  We were attentive but I wasn't consumed with the fear and stress that marked last year's experience.  God has graced us with experience.

Christina is Down

After a really good day, Christina went down.  Our bout with milk fever last year made us nervous so we've been watching her closely.  She'd been doing good all day until this afternoon. My husband was out with her when she got wobbly and went right down.  We gave her some drench and then got out the calcium.  He ran the needle under her skin and I held the bottle.  It's not as bad as last year, but still scarey.

As the bottle was almost finished, she stood up and we lept out of the way.  She's still wobbly.  We'll give her some time and see how she does.  We really need to milk her tonight to prevent mastitis and to feed pepper.  Ugh.  I hope she's doing lots better by then.

This morning we got pepper started on his first milking.  He's a little goofy so we had to guide his little head over to the teets.  After he found the good stuff, he seemed pretty enthusiastic.

He is such a cute little calf.  He's up and walking and cuddling with the girls.  I just love this newborn stage.

Now we just need to get through the next day, maybe two, until Christina's systems are up and running.

New Life!

We've been watching Christina, thinking that her udder was getting bigger, but not sure, and checking on her every few hours. I went out about 4pm to check on her to take a picture of her udder.  There was a calf!  It looked pretty wet and not standing so I figure it wasn't too old.
I took this picture before running in to tell everyone.

We are haunted by Christina getting milk fever last year so we were ready to spring into action.  Milk fever is a severe drop in blood calcium that can kill a cow.  I ran into the house to get Brian.  We got cow clothes on and headed out with calcium drench.  The idea is to put a tube in the side of Christina's mouth so she'll drink up this calcium liquid.  Christina thought it was a bad idea.  We struggled and struggled with her and we think we got at least half of it in her.

I checked into between those little baby legs and we think this is a boy calf.   We'll call him pepper, short for pepperoni.

Then it was time to worry about the calf.  The colostrum the calf gets in its first day will affect its entire life.  We were supposed to milk 3 quarts of colostrum and give it to the baby.  We started milking but only got 2 quarts.  He sucked away on the bottle, but he didn't quite finish it.  I think his little tummy got full.  So 2 quarts is probably enough for now.

He stood up with us for the first time, but he falls over really easily.

After milking we got things set up for the night. A heat lamp and a pile of straw in the milk parlor will be the baby's home.  Christina was moved out to her shed.  She can lick him, but not nurse him.

Then we did a final milk fever check.  Her ears felt warm (that's good).  She ate up her candy with enthusiasm when we milked her (that's good).  And she let go a big wet poop just before we left (that's good too!).

Today I began the day out at the prison protesting an execution.  Without knowing it was time, we had all silently, spontaneously, moved over toward the fence, facing the prison and the rising sun as he was killed.  At that moment, a few flakes of snow fell and then the sun shot out over a cloud, brightening the day.  My day started with death.

And I ended the day with God's blessing of new life.  The calf seems healthy.  Christina seems healthy.  My day ends with life.  God's grace is all around us.

Maybe...

With Christina's due date passing yesterday, the twins ask regularly, "can we go count cows?"  Then they run out to check her.

I went out and she didn't even come over to say "hi." She just finished her drink and walked away, slowly and heavily.  She looks really round and fat to me.

Her udder seems like it's swelling too.  I looked back at some old pictures to make sure that I'm not seeing things, and it really does seem rounder (she also seems a little swollen and red under the tail).  Maybe she really is pregnant!  Maybe she feels just like I did before I went into labor — heavy and tired.

In hopeful optimism, we are washing the milk buckets, getting an area ready for the little calf, and keeping a close eye on her.  I think I'll go read the chapter on calving again.

Still Nothing

Today was Christina's due date.  Still no calf.

Is This Cow Pregnant?

We are nearing the end our milking vacation, we hope.  Christina is due to calve in two days.  Last year she calved two days early and her udder got huge before she calved.  But this time we haven't seen much udder swelling and now I'm wondering. 

We did the AI and left beefy with her for several months.  We don't think she went into heat again, but we didn't do a Vet check to confirm she was pregnant.   What if she never was pregnant or what if she miscarried?  That means we'd have to get her pregnant now and wait another 9.5 months until she calves before we see any milk.  She would become a very expensive pet at that point! 

Ugh.  So I'm nervous.  My daughters think her udder is beginning to swell, but it could be the way she is standing.  I sent my husband out to look at her.  Maybe she looks different to him.  While he was out there he swears he saw a calf move inside her.  Well, that's hopeful.

My daughter said that I should assume she's not pregnant and she'll be an expensive pet and then when the calf comes I'll be so happy.  She's probably right.  I should just not worry about it.  Nothing I can do about anything now.  It's just between God and Christina if and when the calf comes.

Bloat Again, Urgh

We switched the cows into new pastures and by evening, Christina had bloat.  I even saw it coming.  She was out on the new pasture all day long.  Late afternoon we asked the twins if they had given her any hay.  They hadn't, thinking she didn't need any.  Oops. The biggest reason for bloat is a sudden change in diet.

It was easier for me to tell she had bloat than when jerky had it before.  Maybe she had it worse, but she also is has a bigger skeleton so it's easier to see it.  She was round and firm.  We pushed on her rumen and it was tight like a drum. 

So out we went for another bloat treatment.  She was pretty hesitant to take the medicine, but my husband got his arm under her chin and we got some in her.  With the first swallow the twins cheered, and then suddenly she was much more cooperative.  I think she liked that cheering.

After we got it all in her, we started walking.  She seemed more interested in standing than walking so that become a multi-person job too.  My husband had the lead line, then Christina, and my daughter and I followed, whacking her on the butt whenever she stopped.  After several laps around the pasture, her side felt like a living being instead of a musical insltrument.

Whew!

Like every other thing with cows, I'm noticing how much easier the second time is.  This episode didn't scare me nearly as much.  We knew what to do and we knew when we were done. 

Praise God!

Dairy Visit

Today we visited the dairy we bought Christina from.  The people we bought her from are such wonderful people and have been an amazing help to us as we've learned to care for cows.  We took some cheese as an expresssion of appreciation.

We all had such a good time seeing all the cows.

First the girls cuddled the cows.  One of the highlights was meeting Christina's mom, Christine.  She was laying down in the shade and seemed to enjoy the girls.  We also met beefy's mom and sister.

After cuddling Christine, then they cuddled the calves.  Those babies were so silly and affectionate, just like I remember jerky being.

Then they cuddled the heifers.  These girl calves are about six months old. 

Finally, after visiting all the cows and getting a tour of the milk barn, the twins went back and cuddled Christine some more.  They just sat there, enjoying the time with her. 

Now that we're home, I'm getting hollered at that we need to print out the pictures to show Christina and jerky and beefy, so I guess I better get busy.

Christina Anniversary

Christina came to us one year ago today.  I remember that first day, so full of excitement and trepidation.  Our first week with Christina could have been straight out of a sit-com, with buckets getting kicked, taking an hour to milk, and a shy cow trying to teach us a few things.  We knew so little.

We've learned a lot over the past year.  We've dealt with milk fever, mastitis, and bloat.  We know just how much hay a cow eats, how to get a cow to come when she'd rather not, and how to get a stubborn leg out of the way when we milk.  We've also learned about cow kisses and hugs.

After that first week of sloppy milking, we now milk with strength and speed, usually finishing in 15 minutes.  A year ago I dreaded milking; today I enjoy it.  With my hands moving rhythmically, birds chirping quietly, and Christina enjoying her massage, milking has become a peaceful and grounding part of my day.

The rhythm of our lives has changed.  Milking and caring for cows keeps us at home with new routines in the mornings and the evenings.  Cheese making is a regular part of our week. Moving hay and cleaning the shed are part of our annual cycle.

A little while back, a friend asked us "so how long are you going to keep this up?" It's a good question. We are city people who've jumped into this sustainable living thing.  When will we go back to "normal?"

Parts of this life are difficult.  We work hard.  We used to just get up in the morning and have breakfast.  Now we get up, clean the cow shed, feed the cows, milk, filter the milk, pour the milk, and an hour and a half later, finally have breakfast.  Evenings are similar. 

My arms get tired from milking and stirring cheese.  My back gets tired from hay and shed cleaning.  Sometimes we're just tired and we don't walk to milk, but we have to get up and head out because Christina needs us.  And then there are those unscheduled needs — injecting calcium when she had milk fever and treating mastitis.

But every day we are reminded of the benefits.  Twice a day we bring a full pail of heavy, dense milk into the house.  After 12 hours in the frig, almost a quarter of it has separated into velvety cream.  I've never known milk to be so satisfying, so hearty, so succulent.

This last year I have learned how to make most every dairy food — cream cheese, butter, yogurt, mozzarella, fromage blanc, ricotta, cheddar, colby, parmesan, and romano.  Every one tastes better than I ever expected.  Even our aged hard cheeses aren't just good, they're the best I've ever had.

With those pails of milk, security comes into our house.  We are fed not by the money in our wallets but by the creative work of God, through Christina.  Instead of skimping, like we've done our whole lives, we have a sustained abundance.

With Christina came calves.  One we bought from the dairy where we got her.  The other one she birthed last November.  These calves will be meat for us in the coming years.  In the meantime, they are a part of our family.  One of the steers has taken to laying down every day before we go out to clean the shed.  When my daughters see him laying down, they always go cuddle.  I don't think that laying down is a coincidence.

A friend came over the other day and had lunch with us.  It was a typical lunch for us.  Bread had just come out of the oven and she helped me churn some butter.  She took a bite of warm bread with fresh butter and exhaled, "I'll just have this."  After a few slices, she added some apricot jam we made last summer.  Seeing the look of pure pleasure on her face was a reflection of the joy that is ours everyday.

There are days that seem too full of everything and I think, "I could give this up."  But then I think that giving up the work today would mean no Christina milk tomorrow, and I realize I am completely committed to this lifestyle.  Some things are worth hard work.  Yeah, I think we're into this for the long haul.

Today we celebrate Christina and we thank God for this life.  Thank you!  Thank you!  Thank you!

Hard Work Before Sabbath

With homeschooling back in full swing, big projects can only be done on Saturdays.  Today it was moving hay.

We got another load of alfalfa hay.  We won't need it right away, but we will this winter and we just as soon get it put away.  It didn't go far, only into the hay shed (car port), but those 88 bales add up quickly.  It took all morning and afterward my husband and daughters were beat.

Meanwhile, I worked on turnips.  The row out front has grown big and was ready for thinning.  The turnips themselves were small, but the greens added up to a lot.  I washed them four times to get all the crud off, blanched them, dipped them in ice water, and then spun them in the salad spinner.  The green filled four quart bags.  These will be fantastic boiled like spinach or put in soup.

One row of potatoes was looking pretty sorry.  Were they full of mold or just ready to be dug?  I headed out with a bucket and shovel and discovered very few with mold, so they must just be ready.  There weren't as many as I'd hoped, only half a bucket in half a row, but they look good.  The girls think they should get cooked into french fries right away.

Now it is time to nap and rest.  Thank God tomorrow is sabbath.  At sundown our work ends.

Holy Shit

After two solid days of moving manure piles and getting a good four inches of muck out of the cow shed, it's time for the final detail work.  My husband gets in a scoop and the girls shovel away to fill it up. It's heating up and this isn't pleasant work.  Blessedly we have a swimming trip planned this evening.

Those piles of manure translated into a bigger turned pile than we expected.  When you get frustrated and say, "that's a pile of shit," now you have a visual reference.  What you don't have, unless you come on over, is the smell.  It's not overwhelming, but it is pervasive and unpleasant.  The girls set up fans in the shed while they work and last night we slept with the windows closed. 

While my husband and daughters are outside working, I'm inside cooking.  First I skimmed milk, froze some, and froze some cream.  Then I made bread and started yogurt, sour cream, ice cream, and butter.  I hung a fromage blanc and moved frozen strawberries off cookie sheets and into bags.

My long day yesterday ended with a bag of broccoli for the freezer.  Last year I was lazy and didn't pull the plants and discovered they gave a larger crop in the fall.  So I'll be lazy again and see what they do this fall!

Busy days like these make me wonder about the meaning of life.  Sometimes it seems like life is all work with little interruptions for leisure and relationship.  I am not the first one to think this way.  The ancient Israelites named toil as a result of original sin.  "Cursed be the ground because of you!  In toil shall you eat its yield all the days of your life" (Genesis 3:17).

Pope John Paul II wrote a encyclical about work that gives a different view, not as punishment or as meaningless drudgery, but as cooperation with God.  When we work, we are creating something new.  My husband and daughters are creating a new manure pile and new cleaned shed.  I am creating new bread and new yogurt.  When we create something new we are creators, but we only do it in cooperation with The Creator.  In that view, work is sacred because God is sacred.  Work isn't something to be endured until "real" life happens, it is real life because God is present.  In fact, work is a fundamental way that we experience God because of the way God is with us when we work. 

Christ spent only three years of his life in ministry, the bulk of his life was spent in manual labor as a carpenter.  Did he feel the presence of God the Father as he cut and carved and sanded?  Do I feel the presence of God the Creator as I stir and bag and knead?  Do my kids feel God's strength as they shovel and scoop?  It's one more reminder that God isn't a feeling, because sometimes I don't feel God, but that's because of my lack of sensitivity, not because God isn't there.

Moving Compost

Every time we milk we start with cleaning out the cow shed.  The stuff gets thrown into a pile next to the shed, a pile that has grown over the last six months.  It's time to move those piles.  We were able to get our hands on this little bobcat which is small enough to get into the shed but it picks up a lot of stuff at once.

In half an hour my husband alone was able to get as much moved as would have taken two hours with all of us using wheelbarrows .

The hay we buy has been treated with long acting herbicide (sad face), so we don't use the manure on the garden until it's composted for at least a year.  This pile will sit for six months, get a turn, and be ready for the garden next spring.

The cow shed is so icky.  It's been needed to be cleaned for quite a while.  Getting everything cleaned out and fresh straw down will be so nice.  When Christina came last summer, things started clean and it stayed that way until the winter set in and we ran out of straw.  This year we'll have a lot more straw going into the winter.

Finish Line Collapse

Last night my ten-year-old twins came running in, "Christina and beefy have bloat!"  I hurried out. One look at beefy and I could tell he was fine, but I wasn't sure about Christina.  I walked her while the twins ran for my husband.  After a few minutes of walking, we decided she just looked full, not bloated.  We are so sensitive right now.

Today we officially end the 2010-2011 school year.   Rather than bursting strong across the finish line, it feels more like stumbling and collapsing right on top of it.  We have gone straight for nine weeks and that wears us all out.  There is fun stuff in our curriculum, right up to the end, but I think we all get tired of it and just want to be done.

Now we have three weeks off before starting "next year."  We already have all the books sitting on the shelf and I get three leisurely weeks to get everything organized.  I enjoy this planning time the most, I think.  I get to go through new books, figure it all out, and set up the schedule.  Plus, nobody'll be asking me questions or to correct their work.  That's probably what I like the best.

My older daughters will be studying Christian history.  They'll be reading novels I know of, but have never read: Jean Eyre, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, Dr. Jekyl & Mr. Hyde, Pride & Prejudice, A Christmas Carol, Treasure Island.  Plus I'm swapping in some classic autobiographies: St. Augustine, St. Teresa of Avila, St. Ignatius Loyola, and Dorothy Day.  I wish I could read everything with them.

First Bloat

The book says that bloat happens, sooner or later.  Our first came last night.

My husband came in from milking and asked me to come look at the cows with him.  With Keeping A Family Cow under my arm, we headed out.  The book said to look at the triangle in front of their hip bone.  If it's depressed, they are hungry. If it's flush, they are full.  If it's extended they are bloated.  Christina and beefy looked full, but we couldn't even see jerky's hipbone.  It was all just round and full and tight.  Frankly, I wasn't sure (because there are no pictures in the book and how would I know!) but I figured the bloat medicine wouldn't hurt him.

I ran inside, found the medicine, and mixed it up with water.  The book says to give it in a drench bottle which has a long neck, or to give it by stomach tube.  No, I'm not figuring out how to do a stomach tube!  We don't have a drench bottle, we so used the calf bottle with the tip cut off.

The book says, "hold the nose by the nostrils."  What does that mean?  I read it aloud.  My husband reached over, stuck his fingers in jerky's nose and held tight.  Oh, that's what it means!  Jerky wiggled, but my husband was able to hold him still enough that I got the nipple in the side of his mouth.  As I worked I repeated the directions in my head, between the teeth and the check, all the way back, but don't let him aspirate it.  He gulped and gulped and twisted away. Ack!  Did he aspirate it?!  It took three times to get it all down.

It says, "a sound of belching will be music to your ears."  Jerky stuck his tongue out and did a slow-motion hacking.  Was he coughing?  But he kept at it and after a while we thought maybe it was burping. 

The books says to keep the cow walking.  We were doing this right at sundown as a very active thunderstorm moved overhead, so we walked him in circles in the shed.  After a while, it seemed that we could see his hipbone and it didn't feel as full.  But was that right or were we remembering wrong?  

Christina and beefy were close by watching the whole thing.  After ten or fifteen minutes of walking, not sure if things were better, we  decided to leave jerky alone and hope he was alive in the morning.

I slept badly.  I woke up over and over with dreams of finding jerky dead in the morning, or alive but with worse bloat.  Shortly after sun-up, about 6am, I went to check on him.  He was up and grazing.  Praise God!

I knew this "first bloat" would come, and it wasn't as bad as when Christina got milk fever, but it was still traumatic for me.  Part of me laughs at myself, so worried about a cow dying when we intend to slaughter this same animal in a year.  But I do feel responsible and I get scared. 

When I woke up in the night, all I could do to comfort myself was pray, and then feel like a failure for not taking more comfort in prayer.   This morning, with jerky healthy and looking as if nothing happened, the crisis is over.  Even though I didn't trust the feeling at the time, God was there with me.  In fact, I wonder if God was also reaching out in compassion to my feelings of failure.  Perhaps God was telling me, "stop worrying that you're not trusting enough, and instead just me let me show you how trustworthy I am."  Today I feel renewed commitment to watching and noticing.

Moving Hay

It was hay moving day.  We rolled, dragged, and dead lifted hay bales until our muscles began to fatigue.  We got about half the hay moved. The bales always seem heavy, but these seemed heavier than usual. 

We could probably have gone longer, but there is no threat of rain.  There is something very satisfying about throwing your strength into a heavy bale and lifting it off the ground, with a neat pile left to show for your effort.

All the cows watched with interest (here is beefy checking us out) but none more than Christina.  She mooed at us the whole time, watched intently, and then danced around.  Watching a thousand-pound animal dance is just as entertaining as you would at first assume.

With the new hay has come new volumes of milk.  Christina's production had fallen to just over four gallons a day.  At the same time, we have taken on a few new customers and we're selling about ten gallons a week.  That may seem like a lot left for us, but with all the dairy stuff we make and freezing milk, we were feeling a little pinched.  But now she's increased about a half gallon a day and everybody's happy!