Skunked

So, it turns out having a skunk blow its load in one’s house is not as horrible as one would imagine. The immediate smell is horrible ~ more horrible than you could imagine. But dealing with it is not so bad! It’s amazing how rejuvenating it is to have a break in routine, even when it’s caused by skunk-bombing.

I moved up to Mike’s house with Mushy, who is still healing from
her talon wounds and I didn’t want her outside.
Lo and behold, Mike and I realized we really like living together!
Quite a surprise for both of us ~ we’ve spent the last six years living like Frida and Diego ~ but good info for us to know as we scheme about the future….

The rest of the house Farmily stayed at my place, as I was back and forth often and had every door open day and night for them to come and go ~ and to air out the place. A little scrubbing, a little laundry, a little purging of clutter, and home was back to normal and odor-free much sooner than I expected.

Thanks to everyone who emailed with suggestions ~ the hydrogen peroxide / baking soda / liquid soap recipe works like a charm.

~ Rosie ~

Yesterday, a dream I’ve held for thirty years was fulfilled.
I rode in a big rig!!!

Bethany is even more amazing than her truck ~
I’m thrilled she’s my driver and I wish she were my neighbor!

Much more to share but I am frustratingly exhausted….
over & out for now.

The End, The Beginning

This morning I stood in a meat locker surrounded by my hanging sides of beef. Talk about intimacy. I have wanted to write about the last days, and have, for myself ~ but haven’t published any of it here because I have learned that sometimes, while emotions and thoughts might seem crystal clear to me, I don’t always express them clearly enough for The Internet and this topic is too potent and too dear to risk misunderstanding. But it’s time to try.

Two weeks before my little herd was slated for processing, Mike and I trailered them from their huge spring pasture to a lush smaller pasture just a quarter mile from home where it would be easier to sort them off when the time came. Over the course of their lives, I have trailed them half the time and trailered them half the time ~ from the beginning, I knew their last day would entail a trailer ride to the processor and I didn’t want that to be a new and stressful experience for them. Trailering them to various grazing land is always a long, hard day for Mike and me, because it takes so many trips, but it’s quick and easy for the animals, and they walk right into the trailer in small groups and think nothing of it. This means so much to me.

When the time came, we took them to the processor in small batches over the course of a week. I chose the processor I did because they are incredibly good at what they do and they care deeply about their work ~ and the animals. It’s just two women and three men, small and personal, and stereotypes do not fit here ~ they are patient and gentle. On the first morning, one of the men looked right into my eyes and said, “I can see these animals are loved,” and that comment reaffirmed my confidence that I was leaving them in the right hands (I did not stay for the slaughter).

That day, I cried several times but it was not for the reason most people assumed, that my animals were being killed. I see it more as a transition than death ~ they were transitioning to beef, to food for people who need it and will respect it and deeply appreciate it, just as I do when I eat meat. No, I cried because of the sheer intensity of being this closely involved in the process. The reality of the process. Stores make it so easy to disconnect from the process ~ whether it’s a grocery store or a clothing store or whatever store ~ because in that context, we ARE disconnected. But the process is potent. It demands acknowledgement and responsibility. It leaves no doubt that waste is disrespectful.

It soothed my soul to know that in addition to the meat, every organ and bone of every beef was spoken for. That every lower leg with the hoof, usually thrown away, was going to someone’s dog. To know that even an ear and an eyeball were going to fuel a child’s imagination (one customer emailed me to say her daughter was in the midst of the Harry Potter books and had asked for an ear and an eyeball with which to make spells). The transition of my herd was not in vain.

When I began this venture two and half years ago, everyone in town who knew about it thought it would fail. Even Mike. Mike and certain friends were wholly supportive, but skeptical nonetheless. I’m so grateful to all of you who have allowed me, over the past several years, to get to know you ~ for even though I don’t know what any of you look like, I knew that our vision and values aligned. I knew, deep down, that this was not a great risk or outrageous fantasy, but simply a step in the right direction that we are taking together.

On a lighter note ~ the beef looks fantastic. The processors were amazed by the sheer size of each beef and by the quality of the meat. It is perfectly marbled ~ the holy grail of beef ~ yet lean overall, without the thick, heavy layer of outer fat that they usually have to trim off with conventional grain-fed beef. I’m really pleased, and think that everyone who ordered will be, too.

Where There’s Smoke…

…there’s fire. And where there’s fire, there’s a slew of firefighters. And where there’s a slew of firefighters, there’s an EMT or two on standby in case they need us. Job perk.

It’s been unseasonably hot and dry ~ no rain and 100ºF temps since May. Add a midnight lighting strike and you’ve got fire (two, actually, at the same time). Add 40 mph winds and suddenly the fire has a 4000 acre perimeter ~ significant for around here but nothing compared to Colorado or Montana. It was out in about a week. Though I don’t want that sentence to minimize what it was ~ the local volunteer fire guys were working around the clock during that week.

I don’t have any actual fire pictures to share ~ on the first day of the fire, Mike and I drove out to see exactly where it was and where it was headed, knowing if it jumped a certain creek it would be headed right for Mike’s cows. I was so concerned for the animals I didn’t even think to bring my camera, an oversight I cursed when we reached the scene ~ midnight at noon under a black sky, entire trees alighting before us, smoke roiling over hillsides. It was…. gorgeous. It really was. But not something I wanted to go back into a second time just for photos ~ I still have shades of PTSD from my apartment building burning down in San Fran.

Instead, a photo from the staging area (where we were stationed with the ambulance) ~ the heli that carries water to the fire. The round thing on the right is the giant bucket.

My Tribe

Rams and bucks.
The studs of the ovines.

For those of you who don’t have the opportunity to analyze the testicles of various animals in your day to day life, I can tell you that rams and bucks have the biggest balls comparative to body size of any animal I have ever seen.
They’re the size of bull balls, but bulls have 1000+ pounds on a ram. If men had balls proportionate to rams, they would not be able to wear pants.
Well, maybe these pants.