The kids and I were driving into town this morning when our four year old daughter said, "Everyone should have a name."
That was it, there had been no conversation leading up to it and after her proclamation she resumed silently listening to the Veggie Tales CD that was playing. But it got me thinking. Obviously, as her comment hints, our kids are a big reason why every animal on our farm has a name. And yes, I mean EVERY animal. Not just pets, but each goat, chicken, barn cat and more. It may sound silly, but I'll admit that I do enjoy it and secretly wonder if things would be any different even if we had no children.
Names can mean a lot, especially with animals. Some serve as titles, such as Indiana Jones our fearless exploring beagle. Some are earned and conferred in the manner of a trophy, like in the case of the legendary half grown kitten who caught eight mice in the course of an evening earning herself the name of "Xena Warrior Princess". The word prophetic might describe the names of Hansel and Gretel our feeder pigs (named after the fairy tale, in which the evil witch locks up the two kids in order to fatten them up and eat them.)
Some can serve as living history lessons such as the batch of 12 does purchased together that we named after the wives of the first 12 presidents, giving us a chance to learn, in order, not only the first 12 First Ladies, but the first dozen Presidents themselves.
The 4 year old also played a part in the naming of the few kids we had born this past December. She had requested that the next buckling born be named Harold (I don't know why.) So, when triplets were born a few days before Christmas they were named, "Hark, Harold and Angel" (as in, "Hark the Herald Angels Sing.") The other kids born at that time tout names such as Joy and Snowflake.
Again, I know this must sound ridiculous. I really do. But I appreciate knowing our animals on a personal level. I believe it helps us in our attempts toward good husbandry and enables us to more quickly recognize when an animal in our charge is acting "off". And, in turn, I believe that allows us to serve our customers with more knowledgable service and truly stand behind the sale of animals that leave our farm.
So, later this year when all of the goat kids are on the ground and our numbers hover near the triple digits, I can almost guarantee that with the help of a few preschoolers we will be able to point out each one in the herd of bouncing caprine chaos by name.
But, we'll continue to ear tag just in case!
Friday, January 21, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Disabled or Enabled?
We often hear inspiring stories about those who overcome their disabilities - and the fact that we all have disabilities to overcome. The thought that what some consider disabilities others would consider blessings is also somewhat cliche.
Yet, those thoughts spring to my mind right now as I watch the cardinal who just lighted in the tree outside our kitchen window. His bright red coloring creates a striking picture on the bare leafless branches of the tree, against the backdrop of the white barn and stark snow that currently envelops the landscape. Such a pity for the other birds- plain brown sparrows- which sit quietly in the same tree, unable to match the audacious aura of their neighbor. But, their unobtrusive display may in fact be their blessing as opposed to their disability, for it is the flashy cardinal that is currently attracting the attention of our cats.
It reminds me of a cat we once had; a stray that showed up on our farm and instead of migrating on as silently as she appeared in the normal manner of the stray, she remained with us for the rest of her days. A nondescript yellow tabby she did have one distinct characteristic: In a past injury she had sustained a clean break of the ulna and radius bones in her left forelimb. They had healed by the time she came to us and caused her no pain, but as they were never set back to normal before healing, the bottom third of her leg hung limp and useless. I really think she was unaware of her disability. She would run and hunt just like any other cat, with her ineffective paw flapping around like a helicopter propeller as she bounded across the yard.
We also quickly quit noticing her infirmity. The only reminder was her name, coined by my father-in-law: Olympia. That would be pronounced o-LIMP-ia.
Yet, those thoughts spring to my mind right now as I watch the cardinal who just lighted in the tree outside our kitchen window. His bright red coloring creates a striking picture on the bare leafless branches of the tree, against the backdrop of the white barn and stark snow that currently envelops the landscape. Such a pity for the other birds- plain brown sparrows- which sit quietly in the same tree, unable to match the audacious aura of their neighbor. But, their unobtrusive display may in fact be their blessing as opposed to their disability, for it is the flashy cardinal that is currently attracting the attention of our cats.
It reminds me of a cat we once had; a stray that showed up on our farm and instead of migrating on as silently as she appeared in the normal manner of the stray, she remained with us for the rest of her days. A nondescript yellow tabby she did have one distinct characteristic: In a past injury she had sustained a clean break of the ulna and radius bones in her left forelimb. They had healed by the time she came to us and caused her no pain, but as they were never set back to normal before healing, the bottom third of her leg hung limp and useless. I really think she was unaware of her disability. She would run and hunt just like any other cat, with her ineffective paw flapping around like a helicopter propeller as she bounded across the yard.
We also quickly quit noticing her infirmity. The only reminder was her name, coined by my father-in-law: Olympia. That would be pronounced o-LIMP-ia.
If I Could Talk Like the Animals...
As my belly begins to expand with another pregnancy I wonder again why God ever thought this would be a good process. I'll secretly admit to having a bit of drama queen inside of me, and this weakness leads me to be convinced every time I find myself in the first trimester of pregnancy that I may, in fact, be dying. The other night I was in a special state of misery, fighting the urge to moan and cry out loud, when I remarked to my husband - "You know, its odd that pregnancy doesn't affect animals like this." He began to agree; but then we remembered Micah.
A couple years ago we ran across a family who had 4 goats they wanted to get rid of. We weren't expecting anything special, but maybe some decent additions to our commercial meat herd, so we were surprised to find four solidly built high percentage Boer does. We only had $100 to spend at the time and asked if they would accept that amount for one of the girls (our minds racing frantically trying to decide which one to choose!) Their reply? "Take all four of them for that sum!" We were on cloud nine.
We got them home and proudly looked over our $25 does. Maude had sheer bulk, Bentley had refined beauty, Reba was a solid red Boer with loads of personality....and then there was Micah. She was nice enough, but skittish and lacking the strong qualities of the others. Furthermore, she was carying a heavy worm load which was set off by the stress of moving and we spent many touch and go hours with her for the first week. Yet she lived, we got on top of the worms, anemia and other deficiencies and as the weeks passed she filled out and really came into her own. After a few months it was clear that she was by far the nicest and most valuable goat out of our four new acquisitions! And, oddly enough, since her initial fight with stomach worms, she had been one of our most parasite resistant animals and seldom needs deworming. Add that factor to her muscular build, placid demeanor and the fact that she maintains (and gains) weight on pasture and mineral alone and she was exactly the type of genetics we wanted to further in our herd. She had been exposed to a buck when we bought her and we waited with baited breath.....and she was open. We figured that was understandable due to the weak condition she was in when we bought her and with hopeful hearts we sent her off for breeding with the rest of our herd in the fall.
Yet as winter's cold retracted and the does' bellies expanded, Micah again remained slab sided. We knew she was cycling, we had visual confirmation of her being bred...it was disheartenting. We had many talks about what to do with her - pay the vet bills to find out exactly what was wrong, send her to the sale barn, keep her as a companion animal, on and on. And, as we deliberated the months passed. Fall arrived and we decided to try one more time. We waited weeks and the buck failed to ever even show interest in her, our last hope had been shot. Yet one brisk November day we noticed the beginnings of an udder! Within another week we were sure, she was bred, apparently in the summer by a young buckling pre-weaning. (Never trust teenagers!)
This is when the real drama began. Obviously, as we were unsure of a breeding date, we were clueless as to a due date. With her bag filling rapidly we waited expectantly for the arrival of her kid/s. As for Micah herself, she seemed convinced that she could not imagine surviving another day of pregnancy. Yet this state remained for weeks. With her eyes almost visibly rolling in despair she would waddle around the barn lot being as cranky as possible. A warm barn on a winter night is a lovely thing; normally one can smell the sweet hay, feel the warmth from the animals' bodies and hear their peaceful quiet breathing as they slumber. Yet for the month of December that near silence was broken by the moans of Micah. While she slept she emitted a pitiful groan with each exhalation - continuous and unrelenting. We checked her for everything: pregnancy toxemia, structural unsoundness, etc. yet through it all she remained "normal" - just a miserable drama queen.
It was a happy late December morning when she finally kidded. She was welcomed into a freshly bedded post-partum stall and while she happily sucked down warm molasses water we collected her kids from where she had stashed them under a feeder. We climbed under and were amazed to see two stoutly built kids - they were less than an hour old, but as big as two week old kids. We gently lifted them out and were further amazed by the presence of a third, just as big, hiding behind its siblings. With joy we set them into the stall, one after another. Micah began to sniff at them, first at one, then another would bleat and attract her attention, then another bleat and her attention was attracted elsewhere. Her bewilderment was obvious, as if it was dawning on her that these really were all hers, and I believe she began to realize that she had simply traded the misery of pregnancy for a misery that would be much more chaotic.
A couple years ago we ran across a family who had 4 goats they wanted to get rid of. We weren't expecting anything special, but maybe some decent additions to our commercial meat herd, so we were surprised to find four solidly built high percentage Boer does. We only had $100 to spend at the time and asked if they would accept that amount for one of the girls (our minds racing frantically trying to decide which one to choose!) Their reply? "Take all four of them for that sum!" We were on cloud nine.
We got them home and proudly looked over our $25 does. Maude had sheer bulk, Bentley had refined beauty, Reba was a solid red Boer with loads of personality....and then there was Micah. She was nice enough, but skittish and lacking the strong qualities of the others. Furthermore, she was carying a heavy worm load which was set off by the stress of moving and we spent many touch and go hours with her for the first week. Yet she lived, we got on top of the worms, anemia and other deficiencies and as the weeks passed she filled out and really came into her own. After a few months it was clear that she was by far the nicest and most valuable goat out of our four new acquisitions! And, oddly enough, since her initial fight with stomach worms, she had been one of our most parasite resistant animals and seldom needs deworming. Add that factor to her muscular build, placid demeanor and the fact that she maintains (and gains) weight on pasture and mineral alone and she was exactly the type of genetics we wanted to further in our herd. She had been exposed to a buck when we bought her and we waited with baited breath.....and she was open. We figured that was understandable due to the weak condition she was in when we bought her and with hopeful hearts we sent her off for breeding with the rest of our herd in the fall.
Yet as winter's cold retracted and the does' bellies expanded, Micah again remained slab sided. We knew she was cycling, we had visual confirmation of her being bred...it was disheartenting. We had many talks about what to do with her - pay the vet bills to find out exactly what was wrong, send her to the sale barn, keep her as a companion animal, on and on. And, as we deliberated the months passed. Fall arrived and we decided to try one more time. We waited weeks and the buck failed to ever even show interest in her, our last hope had been shot. Yet one brisk November day we noticed the beginnings of an udder! Within another week we were sure, she was bred, apparently in the summer by a young buckling pre-weaning. (Never trust teenagers!)
This is when the real drama began. Obviously, as we were unsure of a breeding date, we were clueless as to a due date. With her bag filling rapidly we waited expectantly for the arrival of her kid/s. As for Micah herself, she seemed convinced that she could not imagine surviving another day of pregnancy. Yet this state remained for weeks. With her eyes almost visibly rolling in despair she would waddle around the barn lot being as cranky as possible. A warm barn on a winter night is a lovely thing; normally one can smell the sweet hay, feel the warmth from the animals' bodies and hear their peaceful quiet breathing as they slumber. Yet for the month of December that near silence was broken by the moans of Micah. While she slept she emitted a pitiful groan with each exhalation - continuous and unrelenting. We checked her for everything: pregnancy toxemia, structural unsoundness, etc. yet through it all she remained "normal" - just a miserable drama queen.
It was a happy late December morning when she finally kidded. She was welcomed into a freshly bedded post-partum stall and while she happily sucked down warm molasses water we collected her kids from where she had stashed them under a feeder. We climbed under and were amazed to see two stoutly built kids - they were less than an hour old, but as big as two week old kids. We gently lifted them out and were further amazed by the presence of a third, just as big, hiding behind its siblings. With joy we set them into the stall, one after another. Micah began to sniff at them, first at one, then another would bleat and attract her attention, then another bleat and her attention was attracted elsewhere. Her bewilderment was obvious, as if it was dawning on her that these really were all hers, and I believe she began to realize that she had simply traded the misery of pregnancy for a misery that would be much more chaotic.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Who We Are
Terra Dei is Latin for "Land of God" - and that is what we feel our farm is. In our little corner of the world we experience all of the peace, beauty, fun and chaos of God's creation. And we invite you to share that with us. Antics abound with our pets, livestock, kids (both goat and human) and more. They add joy to our life and hopefully some laughter to yours!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)