Post by karen on Dec 17, 2011 14:39:03 GMT -5
It all started on a dreary morning after all the chores were done. We took the truck we borrowed from Robin and Brian and drove it to the neighbor’s and hitched up their trailer and headed down the road. Our meeting was at 11am and since it was just after 8:30 we were doing good. GPS said we would arrive right on time.
We were driving a truck with Connecticut plates, hauling a trailer with Alabama plates right into Tennessee where they do Yankee patrol. As we crossed the Georgia boarder our GPS gave us a rude awakening—we were going to be late, an hour late. We forgot about the time change. But lucky for us it was not a problem with Ethan Clark who was running behind on his chores due to the weather.
We winding through some pretty impoverished areas of rickety trailers and houses fixed by plywood. We saw some evidence that the tornadoes we had this past spring also hit in that area. Finally we turned down the last road and Ethan and his girlfriend were by the barn waiting for us.
We had thoughts of going to Knoxville to look at a cow and calf with a bag that wouldn’t quit, but when my Craigslist addict sister found this ad, Brendan gave them a call. He had several cows to choose from—one that was in milk and had 3 calves on her. That was the one I was thinking about as we drove to Pikesville—past Chattanooga.
The road now was pretty muddy because of the rain. Ethan had three cows in a separate pen. Actually 2 cows and a bull. The bull had sawed off horns, he was 19 months old and a Jersey who was very tempting. Another was Jersey/Brown Swiss who was bred to a black Angus. She was tall, but on the skinny side. As with the other one she was on her second calf. He had said he found her first calf dead by the creek, and it was on that information alone, I decided she was not for me. Dr. Creel affirmed by decision by telling me, that calves don’t usually die in the creeks, something must have been wrong with it, and it might happen again.
The other one, a Jersey/Guernsey cross bred to a Jersey, was the one I chose, as for the one with the 3 calves stuck on her was sold 15 minutes before we got there to his neighbor.
I had decided on her name, long before I decided on her. Her name was to be Sissy. Since I named Liza after me, I figured I was on a role, so it had to be Sissy. Most don’t know that I am known by that name, because I hated that name. I forbid anyone to call me that name, by the time I was old enough to forbid it. Only two people maybe three will use that name on me once in a great while. It wasn’t so much the name that I hated, I hated all nicknames, “My name is Karen” and so that is what I wanted to be called. It would irritate me to no end in high school when I was addressed as “Zak”. I couldn’t deny it as my name, but I wanted to be called Karen.
So in my old age, things like that don’t matter anymore. So whether I am called Karen, or Sissy , or Cliffy or whatever, I don’t care. And by the way, I plan to use Cliffy too.
So we chose Sissy. We backed the trailer to the barn, opened a few gates on she just walked right on the trailer, all by herself.
Now the trip home, it was long and boring. I took a nap as I usually do. Wake me up when we get there.
We stopped at the Co-op, so I could look for a halter for her as I could not find one at Tractor Supply. They too had nothing to offer—they only had horse halters. While we were there we got a supply of feed.
Next stop was to unload the feed before we took Sissy to Dr. Creel’s, because we loaded the feed in the trailer.
So off the trailer she goes and down and around the barn into the chute to the squishy head lock thing so she can be examined. She did not like it, not one little bit. She got all sorts of shots, got her side pushed in, got her udders squeezed (all 4 working), got a hand up her butt—there was a bun in the oven. We were told she was 7 months pregnant and she is. Dr. Creel said it was bad news however, it was a bull calf. He claims to be right 50% of the time. Then he stuck his fingers in her nose so he could look at her teeth. She would not cooperate, so other gadgets on the squeezy thing came to life. A bar came down over her head and another one on the side to force her head to one side so she couldn’t move it. Dr. Creel won that fight. She was 4 years old according to her teeth.
When the chute and catch released she was not so eager to go out. Once out she looked around a little and got herself back on the trailer and we took her home.
She spent the night in the strawberry patch. I gave her a scoop of feed which we will gradually increase as she gets used to it. Gave her some hay and there was already water in there. She eagerly dined on the feed and the chickens joined her.
Next morning, I let the chickens out, gave her a scoop, then took care of the rest of the cows. I usually let Yo and Bones in to the strawberry patch to feed and milk, but now it was back to the barn. I think Yo likes it better in the barn, because she is alone: no Bones and no Chickens.
Done with that, now I have to feed the chicks. As I came between the coops, I saw something by the fence to the strawberry patch. On close examination it was a chicken, a headless chicken. I had read that Owls will do that, but it had to have happened before dark yesterday.
After everyone was fed, it was time to introduce Sissy to the group. They had met before over the fence, but now face to face. I opened the gate, but she had no interest in going out. So after a while, after I took a bunch of pictures, I encouraged her to go out.
Then the craziness began. There was so much emotion going on, not on her part, but everyone else became full of energy. First there was the initial sniffing and mounting by Liza to show her, you are lower on the pecking order than me. Then the racing began. Bones kept racing back and forth all over the pasture, all got into the act, except Sissy. She was just checking everything out.
When they went into pasture 3 where we have a roll of hay. Lucy took out her energy on the roll of hay, after she beat it into submission she started eating it.
It was cold out this morning, so about this time I decided it was time to go in.
We were driving a truck with Connecticut plates, hauling a trailer with Alabama plates right into Tennessee where they do Yankee patrol. As we crossed the Georgia boarder our GPS gave us a rude awakening—we were going to be late, an hour late. We forgot about the time change. But lucky for us it was not a problem with Ethan Clark who was running behind on his chores due to the weather.
We winding through some pretty impoverished areas of rickety trailers and houses fixed by plywood. We saw some evidence that the tornadoes we had this past spring also hit in that area. Finally we turned down the last road and Ethan and his girlfriend were by the barn waiting for us.
We had thoughts of going to Knoxville to look at a cow and calf with a bag that wouldn’t quit, but when my Craigslist addict sister found this ad, Brendan gave them a call. He had several cows to choose from—one that was in milk and had 3 calves on her. That was the one I was thinking about as we drove to Pikesville—past Chattanooga.
The road now was pretty muddy because of the rain. Ethan had three cows in a separate pen. Actually 2 cows and a bull. The bull had sawed off horns, he was 19 months old and a Jersey who was very tempting. Another was Jersey/Brown Swiss who was bred to a black Angus. She was tall, but on the skinny side. As with the other one she was on her second calf. He had said he found her first calf dead by the creek, and it was on that information alone, I decided she was not for me. Dr. Creel affirmed by decision by telling me, that calves don’t usually die in the creeks, something must have been wrong with it, and it might happen again.
The other one, a Jersey/Guernsey cross bred to a Jersey, was the one I chose, as for the one with the 3 calves stuck on her was sold 15 minutes before we got there to his neighbor.
I had decided on her name, long before I decided on her. Her name was to be Sissy. Since I named Liza after me, I figured I was on a role, so it had to be Sissy. Most don’t know that I am known by that name, because I hated that name. I forbid anyone to call me that name, by the time I was old enough to forbid it. Only two people maybe three will use that name on me once in a great while. It wasn’t so much the name that I hated, I hated all nicknames, “My name is Karen” and so that is what I wanted to be called. It would irritate me to no end in high school when I was addressed as “Zak”. I couldn’t deny it as my name, but I wanted to be called Karen.
So in my old age, things like that don’t matter anymore. So whether I am called Karen, or Sissy , or Cliffy or whatever, I don’t care. And by the way, I plan to use Cliffy too.
So we chose Sissy. We backed the trailer to the barn, opened a few gates on she just walked right on the trailer, all by herself.
Now the trip home, it was long and boring. I took a nap as I usually do. Wake me up when we get there.
We stopped at the Co-op, so I could look for a halter for her as I could not find one at Tractor Supply. They too had nothing to offer—they only had horse halters. While we were there we got a supply of feed.
Next stop was to unload the feed before we took Sissy to Dr. Creel’s, because we loaded the feed in the trailer.
So off the trailer she goes and down and around the barn into the chute to the squishy head lock thing so she can be examined. She did not like it, not one little bit. She got all sorts of shots, got her side pushed in, got her udders squeezed (all 4 working), got a hand up her butt—there was a bun in the oven. We were told she was 7 months pregnant and she is. Dr. Creel said it was bad news however, it was a bull calf. He claims to be right 50% of the time. Then he stuck his fingers in her nose so he could look at her teeth. She would not cooperate, so other gadgets on the squeezy thing came to life. A bar came down over her head and another one on the side to force her head to one side so she couldn’t move it. Dr. Creel won that fight. She was 4 years old according to her teeth.
When the chute and catch released she was not so eager to go out. Once out she looked around a little and got herself back on the trailer and we took her home.
She spent the night in the strawberry patch. I gave her a scoop of feed which we will gradually increase as she gets used to it. Gave her some hay and there was already water in there. She eagerly dined on the feed and the chickens joined her.
Next morning, I let the chickens out, gave her a scoop, then took care of the rest of the cows. I usually let Yo and Bones in to the strawberry patch to feed and milk, but now it was back to the barn. I think Yo likes it better in the barn, because she is alone: no Bones and no Chickens.
Done with that, now I have to feed the chicks. As I came between the coops, I saw something by the fence to the strawberry patch. On close examination it was a chicken, a headless chicken. I had read that Owls will do that, but it had to have happened before dark yesterday.
After everyone was fed, it was time to introduce Sissy to the group. They had met before over the fence, but now face to face. I opened the gate, but she had no interest in going out. So after a while, after I took a bunch of pictures, I encouraged her to go out.
Then the craziness began. There was so much emotion going on, not on her part, but everyone else became full of energy. First there was the initial sniffing and mounting by Liza to show her, you are lower on the pecking order than me. Then the racing began. Bones kept racing back and forth all over the pasture, all got into the act, except Sissy. She was just checking everything out.
When they went into pasture 3 where we have a roll of hay. Lucy took out her energy on the roll of hay, after she beat it into submission she started eating it.
It was cold out this morning, so about this time I decided it was time to go in.