Detours: Secret Gardens

"The last job of the day is cleaning out the trailers," my farmer joked.

"It's not part of my job description," I answered quickly. "You don't pay me enough for that job!" (Even if he doubled my pay, 2 times 0 is still 0!)

The hired man had called in sick, so it was Randy and I who would get mamas and babies moved to the Ninnescah Pasture and then bulls deposited at various locations. I was already on the crew; it just shifted from a three-person job to a duo. 

(He got a lot of mileage from my refusal to clean out the trailer from his breakfast buddies at Joan's Cafe. However, some of them said their wives wouldn't have helped with the cattle to begin with, so I guess I did OK with the public opinion poll from small town Kansas.)

We got it done with no bodily harm to man, woman or beast, though we had a few moments of frustration when cattle didn't cooperate. By late afternoon, all of the bovines had their annual "change of address" - moving from lots and pastures closer to home to their summer abodes. 

And, as it turned out, the "last job of the day" did end up being a fragrant one. But it didn't involve manure. I may not have gotten a bouquet from my hubby for my efforts in the cattle pens. I got something better: He gave me time with two secret gardens.

A few years ago, we discovered two spots where purple irises grow. One is along a road near the Ninnescah pasture. The other spot is along the Zenith Road. Maybe they are at a sites of a long-ago farmsteads, but there is no falling down barn or cement foundation that give us any clues.

Was it home to someone long forgotten? Did this patch of purple mark a farmstead mailbox long ago? Did someone plant the bulbs, knowing that springtime would bring majestic purple blooms and smiles? They don't seem to belong to anyone, but I will gladly claim them. 

After we took the bulls to the Ninnescah, Randy stopped the pickup and let me take photos of the purple blooms.

Next stop was along the Zenith Road, where only one car had to go around the parked pickup and trailer during our "photo session."

Those blooms are purple, too, but they are a different variety - a paler, more translucent hue. For years, we raced by those blooms just off the Zenith Road and never saw them. Then three years ago, my sharp-eyed farmer saw them, and now we anxiously await the time when they are in full bloom.

Just like the other location, we don't know their history. Early in our marriage, we lived less than a half mile from their location, and I don't ever remember seeing them. They, too, were likely part of a long-ago farmstead. However, Randy grew up here and he doesn't ever remember a house at that location. They are nestled under old cottonwood trees.

These days, they are flanked by a CRP field, the dry, brown grasses of winter a sharp contrast to the brilliant colors and soft petals that form the old-fashioned spring flowers. As we examined them more closely, we noticed several of the stems devoid of their blooms. They were likely food for the deer that flash in and out of the same trees and have been the source of more than one close call on our Zenith Road travels. 

I took several photos while Randy waited patiently in the pickup that day.

Then, on the way to choir practice the next evening, I stopped again as the sun dropping toward the horizon gave golden-hour light to the scene.

It was just me and the mosquitoes that night.

Irises remind me of my Grandma Neelly, who had them in her backyard. Maybe that's why I love them so much.

The flower offered of itself
And eloquently spoke
Of God

In languages of rainbows
Perfumes
And secret silence...
~Phillip Pulfrey

 from Love, Abstraction and other Speculations

Down the Road to the Big Pasture

Perhaps you have noticed that even

in the very lightest breeze,

you can hear the voice of the cottonwood tree.

--Black Elk

(I can't find the original of this photo, so I have to settle for this one that I've edited. It ends up looking more like a painting.)

I've always loved the tunnel of cottonwood trees that leads to the Big Pasture. For more than 100 years, Randy's ancestors brought cattle through the tree-lined road to the pasture on the Rattlesnake Creek. The ground was purchased in 1900 for about $4 per acre by August Brinkman, a great-great-great uncle of Randy's. Originally in a tract of 1,040 acres, 560 acres remain in the Fritzemeier family.
A few years ago, this location was designated as a Farm Bureau Century Farm. Randy's Grandpa, Clarence, and two of his brothers owned the pasture together. Now Randy and his cousin, Don, are the owners.

July 2013

The road has never been the best maintained. But it was still one of my favorites because of the play of light and shadows from the mighty cottonwoods. I imagined Randy's predecessors appreciating the road less traveled as they brought cattle to pasture and then checked them throughout the summer months.

Traditionally, we don't move cattle to the Big Pasture before May 1. Randy says that's because it his grandpa and his great-uncles wanted to keep it fair for everyone. After weekend rains, we couldn't move the cattle on May Day. Instead, we were a day later in taking the mamas and babies to the summer pasture.

I knew that there were changes in the scenery. Randy had gotten a preview when they worked on rebuilding and repairing pasture fence. But this was my first venture down the road to the Big Pasture since county crews had torn out the bulk of the cottonwood trees.

The first time I went this spring, I was too busy driving a loaded trailer through the deep, muddy ruts to truly see the changes. After that first attempt down the road, we went an alternative route, adding 14 miles to each trip to the pasture but assuring that we wouldn't be stuck.

We went back later in the week to check on the cattle and the fence. It made me sad.

Only a few of the magnificent old trees survived. Most ended up in the brush piles on either side of the road.

Cottonwoods always make me think of the song my very first voice teacher had me sing at my very first lesson,

"I hear the cottonwoods whispering above ...

"The old hootie owl hootie-hoots to the dove ..."

(It wasn't exactly an art song, but I digress.)

The mama cows probably couldn't care less about the scenery, but this mama will miss those old cottonwoods.

They are likely much more concerned with the condition of the grass and the water in the creek. With abundant rains in the last six weeks or so, those are in good shape. We are thankful for the full creek. In the midst of a drought in 2012, there was no water there at all.

 

August 2012

It's a much prettier scene to have ripples in the creek as the water flows by.

May 2017

 

It will require some fence repair once the water goes down a bit.

But you sure can't beat the scenery when the rains have greened up the pastures and filled the creek to its banks.

From our pasture looking to the neighbor's pasture to the east.

The pairs we hauled to the pasture should have plenty to eat and drink. They arrived at the old corrals, which have been used time and time again by Randy's family.

This is the first time at the pasture for these calves, born in January and February of this year.

But maybe it's like "old home week" for their mamas as they return during their productive years to the pasture. I guess they'll show them the ropes!

It's not the bull's first rodeo at the Big Pasture either.

And they're off to greener pastures!

Commencement: A New Stage of Life

This past week, we hauled the heifers to the Palmer Pasture. After several dreary days of cattle sorting and hauling, it was nice to have the sunshine brighten up the scenic view. It seemed a good omen for these females who are beginning the next phase of their journey on the County Line.

These heifers will be mothers for the first time in 2018. But they started out life on our farm. They were born during our 2016 calving season.

 

At this time last year, they went with their mothers to summer pasture. In the fall of 2016, we brought the whole Class of 2016 back to the farm and weaned them from their mothers. We sorted out all the boys, who became feeder calves. At the same time, Randy selected 25 of the females to become part of our breeding stock. The veterinarian calfhood vaccinated them in November 2016. 

Their brothers and sisters went to the sale barn in March. Later in March, the heifers began another step toward motherhood.

In March, Randy mixed MGA into the feed given to the 25 heifers. MGA stands for melengestrol acetate, which suppresses the ovulation cycle for the heifers. For 14 days, Randy added the MGA to the grain in the feed truck and fed the equivalent of 1/2 a pound per head per day.

Then, in April, we gathered the heifers to run them through the working chute.  Randy gave each of them a shot of Lutalyse, so the heifers will come into estrus (or heat) at the same time.

He also gave each of the 25 heifers a shot of vaccine to prevent respiratory issues and diarrhea.

 

So why do we try to synchronize the heifers' cycles? We do it to shorten the calving season for the heifers, which saves labor at calving time. (Well, it saves some labor for the humans - not the mama cows.) Because heifers are first-time mamas, we check them frequently in case they are having trouble calving.

The heifer below was waiting for her turn in the chute.

April 2017

I spent a little time looking at photos of the 2016 calves. I'm not sure whether this is the same one, but it definitely has a similar eye patch.

March 2016

Maybe this one was trying to stay incognito so she wouldn't have to go to her OB-GYN appointment. I know that feeling.

But they all had their time going down the lane ...

... and into the chute.

The same day the Lutalyse shot was given, four bulls came a callin'. The bulls were chosen for the "job" because they are bulls whose offspring are expected to have lower birth weight, making it easier for the first-time mothers to deliver their calves. The newest bull, which we bought last month, also joined the party.

The four bulls stayed with the heifers for 10 days. Last week, the heifers and our newest bull arrived at the Palmer Pasture.

Some 283 days later, these females will become mamas for the first time. We will expect to get our first 80-pound bundles of joy next January 28 or so.

We also hauled the rest of the bulls to the different pastures with mature cows. Our cow herd should begin calving around February 7.

And the story will begin yet again. 

Work Conditions

The last few weeks included some long days of cattle round ups, sorting and hauling. This life on a farm doesn't include a regular paycheck, and that can sometimes be disconcerting, especially when commodity prices are low and agricultural policy is uncertain with a new president.

Every day, my Facebook feed and farm magazines talk about consumers who believe we farmers are doing them harm with modern production practices and new seed technologies.

But in the midst of all that, I need to open my eyes to the blessings I do have. We certainly have a beautiful backdrop for work. I am blessed to see God's creation as it comes alive each spring - even if the smell of those blooming trees may sometimes be masked with the aroma of manure mixed with mud. 

Such was the day we rounded up cattle at Peace Creek. For this round-up, we borrowed a 4-wheeler from a neighbor and used our two 4-wheelers, too.

Even getting a group of reluctant mothers and babies to cross the creek gave me an opportunity to enjoy a morning where I could hear the birds singing and enjoy the white clouds against a vivid blue spring sky.

We finally got them to cross the water and we worked them toward the road, where we would drive them to the corrals to sort the mamas and babies.

I didn't take any photos of the time on the road, where we also detoured into tempting green wheat and alfalfa fields. Trying to drive a 4-wheeler and take photos at the same time as chasing cattle led to the demise of a camera this winter, so I stuck it in my pocket. It stayed there while we sorted mamas from babies.

 

 

Then I couldn't resist snapping a photo or two (or more) of the cute little faces.

Their mothers weren't thrilled to be separated from their offspring. We don't need to watch protests on the evening news. They happen in our cattle lots! They don't realize that we are actually protecting their babies.

We haul the babies separately from the moms so that the babies don't get trampled in the cattle trailers.

 

The Ninnescah Pasture looks like a pretty ideal "vacation" spot to me. It seems like a picturesque place to spend the summer.

The babies were ready to jump from the trailer to begin a new adventure.

However, they had to wait in the holding pens until all the mothers were there so they could reunite.

I couldn't resist my annual photo of these three trees as we left the pasture for another load of mamas. I may not get a paycheck, but the fringe benefits are pretty great.