1. Your children might be farm kids if you over hear your young sons talking and one says, “Well, my doe is still not accepting service” and your other son responds, “hmmm, maybe we should make sure it isn’t a buck.”
2. Your children might be farm kids if your 6 year old announces to visitors that the cow isn’t a bull any longer because he got castrated.
3. Your children might be farm kids if their spelling words are polyculture, poultry, compost, manure, horticulture.
4. Your children might be farm kids if you ask your 4 year old what he is drawing and he says, “Cow patties, mom!”

These are a few recent signs we had that our children where definitely farm kids.  There have been many others over the years.

How about yours?  Any indications that your children (or you) grew up on a farm?

We are very thankful the temperatures are supposed to be pulling up into the 40’s tomorrow!!!   We’re wondering if that is going to happen!

We’ve enjoyed the winter wonderland.  We had 3 days of snow falling from the sky last week…not accumulating much on the ground…but definitely beautiful!  We’ve had I’ve-lost-count-how-many days of below freeeeezing weather.  The icicles hanging from the rock cliffs are amazingly beautiful and the frozen ponds are a sight to behold!  My, how we enjoyed the frozen ponds.

Below freezing weather is fine for a short while, but we are so looking forward to some warmer winter weather— 30’s and 40’s would be a good start!  We love the winters and the beautiful seasons in this part of the South…

The kids enjoyed skating across the pond while I stood on the sideline worrying about cracking ice.

We have been busily preparing our year end goals and accomplishments for a celebration party the last day of the year.  In preparation, the children (and adults) have been filling in our reading lists for the year as a guideline to keep us on track.   In some of my reading in my preparation for guiding the children in their education, I’ve been enjoying some letters from John and Abigail Adams and their son, John Quincy Adams in which are inspiring bits of history which have reminded me of the great importance of home education. 

High on our list is rediscovering the lost art of journaling and requiring our children to learn the lost discipline.   We have much to learn in the area of self-discipline ourselves and have much to teach our children.  These letters from Mr. and Mrs. Adams and John Quincy Adams were a strong reminder of how soft and weak modern education is and why we must steer clear of pre-packaged, fast-food “schooling”!

Consider this sampling….a letter from young John Quincy Adams who, at the age of 10 years old, began the habit of writing to his father to review his character development and education and to ask for parental instruction:

Braintree, June 2, 1777

Dear Sir,

I love to receive letters very well, much better than I love to write them. I make but a poor figure at composition; my head is much too fickle. My thoughts are running after birds’ eggs, play, and trifles, till I get vexed with myself. I have but just entered the third volume of Smollett, though I had designed to have got half through it by this time. I have determined this week to be more diligent, as Mr. Thaxter will be absent at court and I cannot pursue my other studies. I have set myself a stint, and determine to read the third volume half out. If I can but keep my resolution I will write again at the end of the week, and give a better account of myself. I wish, sir, you would give me some instructions with regard to my time, and advise me how to proportion my studies and my play, in writing, and I will keep them by me and endeavor to follow them. I am, dear sir, with a present determination of growing better,

Yours,

John Quincy Adams

P.S. Sir, if you will be so good as to favor me with a blank book, I will transcribe the most remarkable occurrences I meet with in my reading, which will serve to fix them upon my mind.

My, how quickly late fall turned into the full force winter we are in right now.  I took this picture about 7 weeks ago…when we had some fall color left and short green grass.  Here’s our milk cow, May, with her calf, Luther, who was born on October 31st…Reformation Day. 

Now, we bundle up for winter walks on the trail in the woods.  The bitter cold wind has been howling for days.  It’s a piercing bone chilling cold.   We follow the brilliant bright green moss carpet along trail. 

They found a “perfect picnic area”!  They cleared some of the sticks, rocks and thorn vines and rested a while talking about how they wished they would have brought a picnic lunch…or how maybe we could just all go back to the house and pack a lunch for a picnic and then come back….in the 40 mile an hour 27 degree wind.  That idea was better than the idea the 4 year old had of “why don’t we just go back home and play in the sprinkler”!

The winter sky beyond the web of sticks.  Winter beauty.  We were hoping for the snow to last longer than it did. 

We’ve had a lot of family time around the fire…a lot of mulled apple cider…and hot cocoa milk.  The fire wood is regularly being put to good use and plans are being made for the new year. 

As we approach Thanksgiving Day, I thought I would post a few thoughts on the subject.  Thanksgiving is a special time around our house.  As we ready preparations for special times of fellowship with family and friends, we remember that Thanksgiving is distinctly Christian and give thanks to God, our Creator, for his manifold lovingkindness and blessing he bestows to His children. 

O give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; for His lovingkindness is everlasting.  1 Chronicles 16:34

Consider these Thanksgiving Proclamations written by our forefathers.  They are profoundly convicting.    

Thanksgiving Proclamation, Congress, 1777

It is therefore recommended to the legislative or executive Powers of these United States to set apart Thursday…for SOLEMN THANKSGIVING and PRAISE:  That at one Time and with one Voice, the good People may express the grateful Feelings of their Hearts, and consecrate themselves to the Service of their Divine Benefactor; and that, together with their sincere Acknowledgments and Offerings, they may join the penitent Confession of their manifold Sins, whereby they had forfeited every Favor; and their humble and earnest Supplication that it may please GOD through the Merits of JESUS CHRIST, mercifully to forgive and blot them out of Remembrance. 

Thanksgiving Proclamation, Congress, 1777

That it may please him, to prosper the Trade and Manufactures of the People, and the Labor of the Husbandman, that our Land may yield its Increase. 

Thanksgiving Proclamation, Congress, 1784

To raise up from among our youth, men eminent for virtue, learning and piety, to his service in church and state; to cause virtue and true religion to flourish, to give to all nations amity, peace and concord, and to fill the world with his glory. 

Psalm 128  

It’s a busy time…farming and home schooling and livin’ life.  We’ve had a full Fall already with difficult funerals and happy weddings.  We’ve tried to slow down.  I’m beginning to think that is not possible. 

So we’ve been hitting life full speed ahead and making progress some days…and other days not so much. 

As the day winds down and our family takes a seat at the family meal table, I look around at all those sweet faces.  The older boys and girls have worked hard all day.  The younger ones…not so hard.  The baby…was hard work.  It’s loud and busy.  They’ve all got something to say about something that happened that day and when we ask them, “So, what did you learn today?”  They are eager to talk about all the things they learned.

I’m blessed to know my older sons learned something new in math and figured out how to castrate one of their lambs and ring the pigs noses without adult oversight.  My younger boys figured out how to fix the broken electric fence and informed me that their school notebooks need new notebook paper.  I’m thrilled to know that my daughter learned her Latin words all by herself, started reading a new book and finished writing her historical letter to a friend at church.

I always enjoy hearing what the little ones learned.  Whether it’s the 3 year old telling us that the kitty cat doesn’t know how to eat peanuts or the turtle likes his food washed…. or something a bit more vague, like our 7 year old boy announcing what he learned,  ”I learned how to turn that black thingy on with that switch thing ….you know….but I didn’t have the right tools to skin it.”

Hmmm…!!!  We eventually deciphered what he was trying to say and told him not to bother the power tools and to forget about skinning the dead bird he found…just bury it. 

In the midst of a busy life, are we really taking the time to slow down and savor those moments with our children?  I’ve found that those little children grow fast.  Time is never still. It’s always progressing and passing.  I’m trying to capture the sights and sounds and find complete enjoyment in spending these days with my children. 

Cousins watch the momma cow as the baby calf nurses. 

Autumn is in full swing here.  We are having a hard time believing that winter is fast approaching.  We are not ready.   

We’re still learning all the important seasonal things your supposed to do when living in the country.  One of the big important ones is gathering wood well before winter arrives.  We didn’t chop enough firewood last year…and this year we are way behind on the wood gathering task.  We have already fired up the wood stove a couple of times.  Wood heat radiates into the house with a kind of “cozy” heat that is perfect for those cold autumn and winter nights.  It calls for the family to gather round for story time with fuzzy blankets, hot chamomile tea and feet pajamas.

The burning bush.

Ever feel like you fell off the wagon 3 miles back and have been running behind its dust trail trying to catch back up with it?  Or feel like the mound of laundry grows to monster size proportions in seconds and you’re under it?

If you can’t multi-task in the midst of a sand storm with your eyes open…you’ll never make it out in the open country where the simple life has more complexity to it than I could have ever imagined. 

I’m still learning to go with it.  I’m learning to take a seat on the porch swing ever once in a while and let go of all the “to do’s” for just a moment. I’m learning to focus on the things we do have up and going well and conquer all the other projects in time.  We’ve got the hang of canning.  I’m knee high in all kinds of herbs making tinctures and teas.  I’m full speed ahead and running with homeschooling and we’re lovin’ it!  We’ve got a lot going on all around us and we’re hanging on for the ride!  Maybe I’m not behind, there’s just a lot going on!

Or maybe it’s the fact that I have a toddler boy who knows how to take apart the dishwasher.  Maybe that’s why I feel like I can’t keep up.  He’s on super charge without an off switch. 

When we are not chasing the boy…we’re chasing animals around.  The pigs escaped and ate my beautiful marigold border in the garden.  I’m still not happy about that and I’m going to like the sausage just fine;-) 

My next tackle project will be the Fall/Winter garden.  I’ve been working on getting the summer plants wound down although the okra has taken off and has now grown into towering okra trees and is still producing wonderfully.  I’m looking forward to lettuce, cabbage, spinach and other mixed greens!

Evidently, the farm boy knows more about his barn cat than we thought!  After breakfast, the little farm boy noticed the barn cat meowing at the back door.  He went out, picked her up and said, “Yep…she had babies…somewhere…I bet they’re in the barn loft!”  He put her down and he followed her to the barn. 

A few moments later, he yells from the barn loft.  “Yep…She has four babies…just born!”

So that means her fat belly wasn’t due to the fact she ate the rat!

Our 6 year old came in the house a few days ago with an important farm announcement concerning our barn cat. 

Missy Mouser is definitely pregnant!  She has a big round belly and is losing feathers around her teats. 

I guess that might be a sure sign to this little  farm boy who is confusing the signs of a broody hen, a milk cow and a pregnant cat.  One of the ways the boys can tell if a hen is about to go broody, or about to sit on a clutch of eggs, is when she starts to pull the feathers out of her breast to ready herself to warm the eggs.  Cats don’t pull feathers obviously but since this cat has been nursing kittens, it looks as though she has lost some of her “feather’s” on her belly.  Hopefully, her fat belly is due to the fact that she ate the rat the boys caught in the milk barn with their small rodent trap and then accidentally let go by my back door step.  I haven’t calmed down over the rat story to be able to relay that rationally yet. 

We really enjoy the changing seasons.  Last week our oldest son came in the house from evening chores and commented on how amazing it was that you could smell Fall in the air.  The nights have been cooling off rather nice.  Fall is in the air…in August.  It has been a very mild summer. 

This last day of August, as the sun started to duck behind the trees, our little 3 year old came romping thru the back door and into the kitchen and announced…

“Somebody Turned off Summer….It’s winter outside.  I need my coat!” 

I took a break from canning over the warm stove, stepped outside and sure enough discovered she was right.  “Hmm”…I said, “Someone did turn off summer…it’s down right cold out here!”  She nodded her head in agreement…and we came inside.  I made a mental note to find the jackets as soon as possible for these cool evenings…although I am sure we have several weeks of warmth still, Fall’s coming in faster than I expected!

I guess we should start collecting firewood before Someone turns on winter

I think it isn’t shocking to say that our culture at large has a very strong  hatred of  good honest work.  As a culture, we relish what is faster-quicker-easier…  The word “work” invokes the thought of having to exert too much energy, too much commitment…too much stick-to-it-tivity.    It means I actually have to focus on something, exert mental and physical energy and put heart into something from start to finish.   

Many of our grandparents were farm kids who knew what real, hard work was.  It is a far cry from today’s sports and video game consumed boys.  Valuable life lessons are lost when boys focus on play rather than consume a regular diet of honest, hard work.   Boys need responsibility, working by the sweat of their brow, seeing a task through from start to finish.  They learn to love and appreciate work, understaning it’s importance. 

I love reading old stories to my children about “work”…good old fashion work ethic!  We’ve read many books like, “Farmer Boy” which portrays boyhood work as a part of every day life.  The most recent family reading book my husband has been reading out-loud to us is called, “Every Farm Tells a Story” by Jerry Apps.  It has many wonderful stories about good boyhood work.  We’ve been enjoying it immensely as a family as we laugh and relate to Mr. Apps’ childhood stories about growing up on a family dairy farm in Wisconsin. 

Chores started on the home farm when you were around four years old, depending on, as Pa would say, “how much meat you have on your bones.”….By the time you were five, you moved up to feeding the chickens and gathering eggs….The ultimate chores took place in the cow barn.  Milking cows by hand ranked number one.  Other prestigious chores included forking hay from the haymow in ten-below-zero temperature, with frost hanging from the cobwebs and brushing you in the face; shoveling manure from the barn gutters into the manure carrier; cleaning out the calf pen; and throwing silage down from the top of the silo….Ma and Pa raised us to work together, play together and live together.  We helped each other, depended on each other and at times defended each other….

Our children have especially enjoyed the age-appropriate chores Mr. Apps shares in his book.  I’ll  list off some examples of work these boys did and at what age…it is really amazing!

“Chores were and important part of our growing up years…”.

“We learned not to complain about work.  We learned to show up on time, every time, day in and day out, including weekends.  And we took pride in what we were doing.  Chores were not drudgery, at least not on the farm where I grew up.”

• By the time you were 6 or 7, you helped pick the smaller stones (out of the field before the crops could be planted). 
• When you were 10 or 12, you drove the team while sitting on the disk harrow or you walked behind the drag while a dust cloud swirled around you. 
• You became a serious hoer when you were 7 or 8. 
• By the age of 12 or so, you were cultivating potatoes with one horse and a walking cultivator. 
• By the time you were 10, you were driving the horses and performing simple tasks like handling the team while Pa pitched hay. 
• When you were 12 or so, you were pitching hay along with Pa. 
• By the time you were 14, you were driving a team on the threshing crew. 
• By age 12, you husked corn by hand for the hogs after school, often a wagon load every afternoon. 
• By the time I was 12, I put every nickel I earned toward buying books.  I didn’t yet understand Pa’s good times-bad times theory (of saving some money for the bad times to get you through until the good times roll around again). 

We have a long way to go to recapture what it means to work hard and to embrace it.  But is no secret that we live in a day and age of wimpy boys, who don’t know what a hard days work really looks like, couldn’t defend the family if they had to, haven’t a clue about how to produce or hunt food and couldn’t save a nickel if they wanted to. 

Moving to a farm was one of the best decisions we ever made! 

Our friends over on Beaverdam Creek, run an organic family farm and run a popular CSA program.  You should check out their website and blog and see all the great things they do.  They “grow slow food” and supply their customers weekly with a basket of fresh, organic veggies grown in their huge garden.  They also send out a great newsletter that we enjoy…this week…they mentioned a great essay from I’ll Take My Stand:  The South and the Agrarian Tradition by Twelve Southerners (1930)…that we thought was worth mentioning. 

The essay is entitled “The Hind Tit” by Andrew Nelson Lytle and is rather poignant and enlightening considering where we find ourselves today in regards to agrarian life vs. industrial life.  I’ve been reading parts of the essay to my children and we have been greatly enjoying the stimulating, thought provoking conversations this essay is spawning.  Here are a few quotes:

“The midday meal, like all the meals in the country, has a great deal of form. It is, in the first place, unhurried. Diners accustomed to the mad, bolting pace of cafeterias will grow nervous at the slow performance of a country table. To be late is a very grave matter, since it is not served until everybody is present. But only some accident, or unusual occurrence, will detain any member of the family, for dinner is a social event of the first importance. The family are together with their experiences of the morning to relate; and merriment rises up from the hot, steaming vegetables, all set about the table, small hills around the mountains of meat at the ends, a heaping plate of fried chicken, a turkey, a plate of guineas, or a one-year ham spiced, and if company is there, baked in wine…

…His table, if the seasons allow, is always bountiful. The abundance of nature, its heaping dishes, its bulging-breasted fowls, deep-yellow butter and creamy milk, fat beans and juicy corn, and its potatoes flavored like pecans, fill his dining-room with the satisfaction of well-being, because he has not yet come to look upon his produce at so many cents a pound, or his corn at so much a dozen. If nature gives bountifully to his labor, he may enjoy largely….

…The dishes of food are peculiarly relished. Each dish has particular meaning to the consumer, for everybody has had something to do with the long and intricate procession from the ground to the table. Somebody planted the beans and worked them. Somebody else staked them and watched them grow, felt anxious during the early spring drought, gave silent thanksgiving when a deep-beating rain soaked into the crusty soil, for the leaves would no longer take the yellow shrivel… The fullness of meaning that rain and the elements extend to the farmer is all contained in a mess of beans, a plate of potatoes, or a dish of sallet. When the garden first comes in, this meaning is explicit. If the yield has been large and rich, it will be openly and pridefully commented upon; if the garden has burned and it has lost its succulence to the sun, some will remark that sorrier beans have been seen, while others, more resentful of nature’s invincible and inscrutable ways, will answer that better, also, have been seen. But aside from some such conservative expression, in its formal tone making a violent passion, no other comment will be made. And as the enjoyment of the garden’s produce becomes more regular, this particular meaning which the dishes at a country table has for its diners settles into the subconscious and becomes implicit in the conduct of the household.”

I am not quite sure how long the moniker “Junk Birds” has been around in our family.  Maybe after we dealt with bird mites invading our house one Spring.  I’m trying to forget that experience. 

We don’t hate all birds.  We enjoy watching many kinds of birds.  My kids know how to identify a large amount of birds…hawks…vultures…and other flying things.  We occasionally see the beautiful white headed bald eagle flying over and around our farm.  I was shocked the day I was driving over the creek bridge to have a very large white headed bald eagle skim over the hood of my truck and continue flying down the creek.  It was one of those amazing moments.  I had only ever seen a bald eagle at the zoo in a huge bird cage.  Now they live across the road from me at the creek.  And we look for them  all the time, and sometimes we…though rare..see them flying high in the sky. 

We once raised a baby falcon and once my boys thought they saw a flying Rhamphorhynchoid Pterodactyl.

So back to the junk bird story…

They are the black, squawking, good for nothing birds that daddy called “junk birds” one day and it stuck with the kids.  They aren’t beloved like the majestic robin or the beautiful blue bird.  They aren’t interesting like the killdeer bird and aren’t mysterious like the bats.  They aren’t electric like the humming birds…so they ended up with the name “junk birds”.

Since spring, the kids have been monitoring the trees and the bird houses and know the low down on the nests goin’ on around the farm.  The junk birds moved in our large back yard tree and have been making quite a racket. 

Not too long after the junk bird nest was discovered, the boys found an abandoned baby bird down on the ground in the general vicinity of the junk bird nest.  They put the bird in a bit of hay inside the girl’s play house situated under the big tree.  Well, the girls found the baby bird in their play house and being the mommies they are…they instantly adopted the bird as their baby.  Which means… by day end… the bird was hopeless. 

Big sister taught the little girls how the momma bird feeds her babies and showed them how to dangle a worm over the baby’s mouth and watch him open wide and gulp down the worm.  The little girls started digging for worms and took over the baby birdie care and feeding.  It was perfect, until the 3 year old stuck a piece of dog food in the baby bird’s mouth and choked it.  Big sister, being girl she is, saved the bird’s life by sticking her fingers down the bird’s throat and pulling out the large dog food chunk.  It was back to worms, eye droppers of water, lots of holding, 3 year old singing and “rest” for the baby bird in the hay pile in the girl’s playhouse. 

The next day the bird disappeared.  The girls were sad.  The boys suspect the cat got it but didn’t announce their theory too loud for the girls to hear. 

Fascinating lessons learned and memories made on that beautiful Spring day of taking care of a baby junk bird. 

About 9 years ago, I was brutally made aware that I live in a state with critters that I thought only lived in the zoo.  I remember going to the zoo as a child and visiting the aquarium and reptile houses.  They had this strange looking frog that looked like a blob of mud with eyes that always intrigued me.  I always looked for him when we went to the zoo.  I knew just where his glass box house was.  Over the years and  time after time of seeing him, I remember thinking that my old friend, the blob of mud frog who lived at the zoo,  must live 100 years.   They also had a myriad of  brightly colored salamanders and strange looking lizards and brilliant fish.  They were nice to look at behind the glass. 

Many years later, as we were loading up our truck and trailer moving out of our rent house, my husband rescued me from a very large red and black slimy looking snake thing with legs and big eyes that was scurrying out of the garage too close to where I was.  The thing came out of my garage.  It looked like it escaped from the zoo–it was so amazing looking to be in a normal environment.  I realized that “normal environment” was now different to this Texas girl—

Here we have amazing looking salamanders and lizards of many shapes, sizes and colors.  My kids love to catch the blue tailed skink and other salamanders scurrying around outside. 

Here’s my run in with one such salamander recently:  I hate it when I forget something outside in the truck and need to go retrieve it at night…like the diaper bag or the book I finally get a chance to read.  My first thought is..”snakes” and my second thought is figuring out who can go retrieve my item from the truck for me.  The other night this was the scenario, only everyone was busy…so I braved the country outdoors, made my way down the porch steps on the rainy night only to be pained by that sinking feeling of something slithery scurrying right underneath where I just stepped.  I quickly got down the steps and hopped in the truck and then yelled…  No one heard me.  They were all busy inside but I wasn’t about to go back up the steps nor was I about to walk all the way around the house in the dark.  I was sure there was a snake lying just inside the dark shadow cast on the  front porch steps. 

 So I waited and yelled some more as this snake in my imagination kept growing larger and larger. 

Finally, a boy arrived and opened the front door to hear my declarations of “go get a flash light…I think there is a snake on the steps…” 

He came back quickly…the flash light batteries were dead.  That didn’t stop the boys from investigating only to find a …and this was their words…”ahhh, a cute little salamander, mom”. 

We looked up the salamanders in our State and found some interesting facts about this salamander called the Cave Salamander.

Cave salamanders may produce a noxious secretion from the tail if bothered, and when attacked they will coil their body around and tuck their head underneath the base of the tail, then wriggle the tail to distract the predator.  Using this common defensive strategy for many species, the cave salamander can regenerate the tail if part of it is broken off.

On a dark, rainy night with just the faint light of the window casting shadows on the front porch steps… this cute little cave salamander looks much like a very, scary snake who wants to strike his predator! 

Since then, we have found quite a number of interesting salamanders. 

The frogs and toads are out in full force.  Night time is a symphony of sound.  I love leaving the windows open and listening to the night sounds…that is until I am reminded we live on a farm with renegade roosters who know where my bedroom window is. 

Our science lessons are all around us…outside. 

My kids love picking up all the frogs, toads, lizards and salamanders.  Even as a kid…I didn’t like touching them.  My girls fight over who gets to hold the frog next. Frogs are their babies and they get pretty serious about taking care of them by building lavish 5 gallon bucket homes for them with lots of grass and “pretty flowers” for them.   

Lately, there have been plenty of frogs to go around.  In fact, our ponds are being over taken with thousands of baby tadpoles or as the 3 year old says…the “tad-uh-polts” (say it just like you would catapult.  She has brothers.)  One day not too long ago we spent a morning out at the pond…watching hundreds of frogs mate.  The kids thought it was a great.  Frogs give me the creeps…especially hundreds of them…mating…and carrying on like they do. 

The boys brought me a present one night…a 5 gallon bucket hopping mad with frogs they had captured on the way back from the milking barn.  They knew how much I would enjoy a 5 gallon bucket of frogs…that’s what made it so funny for them. 

We have bull frogs, tree frogs and toads…all kinds…all over.  I was pleased, however, to find out that the tad-uh-polts make great duck food.  And when they finally leave the pond, the chickens are in for a real treat. 

Lately, the frogs have provided a great opportunity to observe, discuss and learn many important science lessons for all of us.  The best thing about frogs is that they eat a great many bugs.  That makes me happy! 

We lost our milk cow back in August of 2008.  Since then, we have been searching for another Guernsey. 

Guernsey cows are difficult to find around here.  Most family farming people  prefer the smaller Jersey cow.  The Jersey cow gives a nice amount of creamy milk and works well with a family farm, however we were already sold on the golden Guernsey butter and creamy milk not only for its taste, but the special A2 milk interest we have.

We finally received an email with a lead (thanks Amy!!) on a Guernsey milk cow and her heifer calf which we were very excited to investigate.  Being that the seller was an Amish family in Kentucky, it took some calling around to find someone, who knew someone, who could go find out if the cows were still available before we took the day trip to Kentucky.  (No email or phone you know…)  We found out they were available…so we headed out  to go take a look at them. 

We’ve bought a few milk animals before.  We know what we are looking for.  For some reason, even when we know what we are looking for, we always find what we don’t want.  This milk cow had a lot of what we did want…but some major things we didn’t want. 

What we wanted in a milk cow:

• Guernsey
• dehorned
• 4 working teats not damaged by mastitis – easier milker than our last cow.
• has her tail— wasn’t docked by a dairy.
• giving some good milk each day…doesn’t have to be newly fresh. 

What we found:

• a registered older Guernsey mammoth with her 6 week old beautiful Guernsey heifer.
• yes, dehorned and yes, has a tail.
• 4 working teats that weren’t damaged by mastitis but a massive udder that is very low.  A slipped udder will hang low and could cause problems.  Definitely not something we wanted…but were willing to give her a try being that she did have a beautiful  heifer calf that we could raise to be a fresh starting milk cow here in a few years.  We also considered the fact that we have been having a hard time finding Guernseys–here’s two of them!
• yes…giving lots of milk at about 7 to 8 gallons a day at 6 weeks fresh. 

So far, we’re adjusting to the change in schedule ….or what I should say is — we are still adjusting to the cow taking over our lives.  Milk cows are amazing animals that teach you how to stay home.  We are very thankful for the milk and very excited about our golden Guernseys!

Even with all the laundry and the messes…….all the endless work, there are amazing perks to this job!  Whether it is those little smiles, giggles, hugs and kisses…or those cute pictures they draw for me and fresh yard weed flowers they pick… motherhood is beautiful and incredibly rewarding and fulfilling every day, not just on Mother’s Day. 

My 6 year old little boy walked up to me on Monday while I was cooking with a surprise for me hidden behind his back.  With a cute smile on his face, he said, “Mommy, since I forgot to give you a mother’s day present yesterday,  so I have a surprise for you.” 

Out from behind his back he excitedly handed me an old dog food bag full of …something….  I cautiously opened the dirty bag and at first glance it looked like something dead…with lots of feathers…so I didn’t look too close.  Remember, not too long ago I said I was an experienced mother of boys?  With a forced smile and a sweet voice, I said, “Ohh nice…what is it?”

With a giddy smile he said, “It’s rooster feathers…just what you wanted.  There’s only a little bit of blood on them, but not too much.  It’s ok.” 

I did the over exaggerated “Ohhh, son..real rooster feathers…..you’re are such a thoughtful boy…. thank you, son!” and gave him a big hug and told him I loved him very much.  He stepped back all proud of himself with a big smile. He was so happy. 

He then proceeded to tell me about killing the bad rooster with his boot because it didn’t die all the way before he could pluck the feathers.  I stopped him short of the great story I am sure any boy would want to hear to find out if this event was “daddy approved”.   It was. 

He said he was sure I would love the feathers so he worked hard to pluck all the pretty ones and packaged them up for me. 

It’s memories like these that make the day in and day out work worth every bit of sacrifice.  Not every mom receives such gifts from her boy.  I could have never guessed how a dirty dog food bag full of fresh rooster feathers would have made my heart leap and my face light up…but it did. 

Today, his older brothers helped him clean the feathers and arrange them to dry.  I am thinking up something crafty to do with my feathers and still smiling at his creative thoughtfulness.  Maybe I’ll use some of those Mother’s Day rooster feathers and make my boy a nice Indian hat for his birthday!

One fact that we quickly learned after we moved to the farm is that children can do more work than what you think.  It’s amazing how helpful they can be…when required to.  Our children are full of energy.  The trick is to harness that energy and point it in the right direction.  Children left to themselves, unchallenged and without responsibility turn into lazy, me-centered “kiddults”.  I don’t know if you have noticed lately but our world is filled with them:  30 year old “kids” who haven’t grown up  and who lack vision, maturity, depth and a good work ethic. 

We believe labor and early responsibility are vitally important for our children…even our young children.  We have found that all our farm work around here captures their adventure and endless energy in positive way, all the while teaching them responsibility and a good work ethic.   It’s nothing new.  Ask most any elderly man or woman and they will tell you the stories of their youth.  You will most likely hear about good, honest, hard working days.  I remember sitting and talking with my great grandfather about his youth.  His youth was filled with responsibility and hard work.  Those are the things that grow strong young men and women. 

In a large family, sometimes the older children are counted on for most of the chores.  The middle children can easily do the chore, but we are so use to calling on the oldest ones to complete the task.  It’s habit I guess.  Around here, it has been becoming apparent that we need to enlist the younger troops.  So we have changed around our chore schedule quite a bit to accommodate the younger ones involvement.  

We have 4 baby calves.  3 of them take a bottle twice a day.  The 4th one we gave up on chasing him around the field.  Now he just watches from a distance as everyone else happily drinks down their bottles!  We had the calves on cow formula which requires mixing up 8 oz of the formula into 2 quarts of warm water.  Whisk around and pour in the bottle. We originally had our 11 year old doing this chore.  Looking around at what needed to be done and who could do it, I learned from my Managers of Their Homes  book to start enlisting the youngest child who can do the chore…not the oldest.  Wow..this changes things. 

So the 6 year old and 8 year old were pulled away from their dump trucks and enlisted to mix up cow formula, pour it into the bottle and go find the calves.  It works great!  Lately, they have been transitioning the calves off the formula and putting real milk in the bottles.  It frees up the 11 year old to focus on the milk cow and the little boys have a real chore that is vitally important on our farm.   

Teaching responsibility isn’t a one time how-to class.  Handing over chores and jobs to children can be messy. It takes lots of patience and understanding.  It takes a parent that is willing to give up perfection and ready to invest great amounts of time and energy into their children.  It’s a long term investment that repays many times over with young men and women who are hardworking, honest and responsible!

Have you ever bought something and got it home only to feel that pit feeling in your stomach that you shouldn’t have bought it?  We had that feeling not too long ago, only we were driving out of the sellers driveway after we bought their goats when the feeling hit…way before we got home.  We looked at each other…What were we thinking? 

We told ourselves it was for our daughter.  We drove over an hour to purchase 3 goats.  The Craig’s List ad said “milk goat”.  When we got there it wasn’t exactly what we were expecting.  The goat was “in milk” but wasn’t actually being milked by a human…there is a huge difference and one you should always clarify prior to buying a milking animal.  And it didn’t appear that she had ever been milked. Bells and flashing warning lights should be going off in your head after you find out these important pieces of information when looking for a milk goat.  This milk goat also had horns…something we had forgotten to check out before we drove all the way over there…and something we definitely did not want. 

However, we already drove over an hour to get there.  We looked them over, ignored the bells and warning lights  and loaded them up.  All the “we should of asked this…and this and that…” questions started to flood my mind.  My husband reminded me that we could always sell them again….no worries. 

That first night was horrible.  We learned that Nubian goats are extremely loud and scream like nothing we have ever heard before.  If we were any closer to town, I am sure we would have had the police at our house that night investigating the hostage torture situation called in.   Yep, we should not have bought these goats for sure!  It was too late, the kids (our human children that is) were instantly attached to them despite our warnings that we were not keeping the babies and the momma was really iffy at this point.  Our plan was to bottle feed the babies and sell them at weaning time. 

That time came and went.  We sold the two bucklings to a nice ol’ farmer who was kind enough to show our children around his sheep farm.   We dehorned the momma goat, started milking her and since then she has grown to be one of our favorite farm animals and a great milk goat.  Like my husband said, “no worries”!  It all worked out. 

The other morning my husband and I were sitting down by the pond watching our ducks  and enjoying the fine spring day when Chesnutt spotted us….and broke the silence. 

And as she always does, she greeted us in her own unique way with a loud, “Mahh…Wahhh….Ahhahhahhh….Mahhwahhhwahh…” as she come galloping up and over the hill towards us with her dumbo ears waving in the wind.  She makes us all smile when we see and hear her coming!

Sometimes that buyer’s remorse pit feeling in your stomach surprisingly turns out to be one of the best deals you ever stumbled upon!