News From The Homefront

Hi All ~ Many readers have forwarded me this recent article regarding Wildlife Services. Thank you! It’s a great article. Those of you who’ve read The Daily Coyote know that Mike has worked for Wildlife Services, however, two months ago, Mike made the decision to end his career with Wildlife Services. While he still believes in protecting livestock, he could no longer support Wildlife Service’s current methods and practices which result in nothing more than the mass genocide of coyotes.

Random Status Report

The trickery worked. We jacketed the calf, which (skip to the next paragraph if you’re squeamish) means skinning the dead calf and putting that hide onto the orphan calf ~ four holes are cut in the corners of the hide for the orphan’s legs to pass through; this keeps the hide anchored across her back.

Mama cows know their calf through sight and sound but confirm it through scent, and jacketing confuses the mother enough to let the new calf nurse. Once the orphan calf has its new mother’s milk coursing through its body for a day or two, the calf begins to smell like her, becomes hers, and the jacket can come off. This mama is wholly devoted to her new baby.

Oreo, NICU baby, is the princess of the herd. One would never know, looking at her now, how tenuous her first days were. She’s strong and playful and curious, chasing chickens, ringleader of the calves.

I made this, following the cold recipe she links to near the bottom of her post and it is AMAZING, like distractingly good, like I was walking into walls because the only thing my consciousness could register was the deliciousness of shrub in my mouth.

Snippets: The Agony & The Ecstasy

I’ve been writing.
Manic stretches where my pen can barely keep up with my brain alternating with staring at a blank page for hours and doodling in the margins.

A calf was born strange, there was something structurally off about her, her legs were weird and she couldn’t hold her chin up to nurse. So I’ve been milking her mother (NOT FUN. CHEATING ON DAISY!) and bottle feeding her, and trying to teach her how to nurse on her mom. She was such a sweet little thing. She died today. I think it was inevitable but I still can see her face so perfectly in my mind.

Another cow had twins last week and, as is customary, only took to one calf and abandoned the other. That motherless calf is also on the bottle (Daisy’s milk) but we are hoping to introduce her to the mother that is now calf-less. It takes a bit of trickery but results in happy pairs.

Fingers crossed.
Off to go feed cows.
And the Farmily (all are well).
And then write more (or doodle).

Good Things

organic strawberries + cream from a cow who loves me

I blended it up and had it for dinner in my outdoor tub last night.

It’s the little things.

And also the big things! My first (only) angus heifer had her first baby yesterday! Remember this story? The calf that 16 barreled down the mountain for, through fences and over cattle guards to return to, was a girl and Mike gave her to me for Christmas that year. She grew up to be the most gorgeous heifer ever ~ she is the femme fatale of angus cows. Short hair, round little body, very distinct face… Her name is Star.

Star inherited her mother’s disregard for cattle guards, but while 16 only crossed them out of maternal duty, Star walks the cattle guard daily to go to a neighbor’s abandoned field to graze. We knew she was getting close to calving, so Mike and I locked her in the corral two days ago so she wouldn’t have her calf on the county road ~ sometimes heifers don’t know what to do with their first calf and walk off and leave them, and sometimes they have trouble with the birth ~ it’s always good to keep a close eye on them in case they need help.

Not so with Star, on either count. She calved at three in the afternoon and was instantly, obsessively, in love with her baby (also a girl!). Also the noisiest mother I have ever seen, honking (there’s no other way to describe the noise she was making ~ a flashback to her uncle Ricardo?) at her calf between licks. The calf was up and sucking right away and then bounced around on wobbly legs, exploring the corral as Star honked along behind her, trying to call her back to get in a few more licks.

Cracked Out On Eggs

About a week ago, as I fought to emerge from a Mini Egg stupor, I twittered: “MiniEggs are going to be the death of me. And WHY do they now show up in stores in February? The season of my addiction has become too long.” The responses proved I am far from alone in this affliction, and included this video:

link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v8LNPXtwXxU

Mike, however, clearly does not have the mind of an addict. He hid a bag of Mini Eggs from me (upon my plea) but a few days later I needed a fix and went up to his house while he was at work. I looked everywhere for the Mini Eggs, including in the pockets of rarely-worn jackets hanging in the guest bedroom closet.

I couldn’t find them anywhere. Finally I said eff it and opened his pantry to see if he had any decent food. AND THERE WERE THE MINI EGGS. Who hides food in the pantry??? It almost worked, because in my demented brain that’s the last place I thought they’d be.