Cow Pedicure

There comes a time in everyone's life when a new hairstyle and a pedicure are essential. Considering the current financial climate now is probably that time! So it is with cows, although their bank balance is probably in better shape than ours. Recently, we've noticed that our momma cows' toes were definitely in need of some filing and buffing. They were beginning to lengthen and we knew it was time to schedule an appointment with a pedicurist, sorry, a cow hoof trimmer. Seriously, cow hoof care is extremely important in cows. Improper or insufficient trimming can put put stress on joints and cause serious lameness. Foot and leg problems are major causes of loss in dairy cattle, mainly because being herbivores their preferred surface is pasture rather than concrete

Unlike horse's hooves, bovine hooves grow slowly, especially if the bulk of their diet is forage. They require trimming only once or twice a year, depending on diet and housing. It has been customary to secure the cows on a tilt table, then tip the cow and table combination slowly over to allow the trimmer to reach the hooves. Good for the trimmer but not so good for the cow as cows generally aren't wild about tipping over on to their sides and normally try to avoid this sort of thing. Fortunately, for our mommas we had heard about a local trimmer with a trimming box that kept them upright, and we scheduled an appointment.
Sunday was the big day and Ray (our new trimmer) arrived in the morning with his box. Looking like something out of H. G. Well's "Time Machine", our first impression of this contraption was that the cows aren't going to like this! Never mind, if the cows were unhappy with it, we'd just take a short vacation to some earlier time when we weren't discussing hundred billion dollar bailouts and people in other countries didn't think we were all profligate nincompoops. We could spend a few minutes dumping our AIG stock, buy up some Google and be back before lunch.

Disappointingly, this Tardis was not able to send us hurtling through time a la Dr. Who, and fortunately our mommas, as always, behaved like perfect ladies. It was just dandy for gently restraining our girls and supporting their weight so that Ray could trim and shape their hooves quickly and with little drama. The cows walked in one end, were placed in safe restraints, the box was lifted hydraulically off the ground, their feet were raised one at a time, they were trimmed and shaped, the box was lowered and the cows were then led out of the exit. The entire process was gentle and efficient.

We considered the white tips so fashionable these days, perhaps with an "Old Glory" motif, but common sense prevailed and we settled for a good filing and cleaning. Now, both girls are sporting new, sexy tootsies. And we are still watching the progress of the bailout on the news. But you can't have everything.



Posted by Tom and Jorg

HMS/M Repulse

Today many of my former shipmates and comrades-in-arms, and their partners, will be getting together to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the commissioning of Her Majesty's Submarine Repulse. This post, and the panel, is dedicated to those men who served in the Port and Starboard Crews throughout her long service, and to all who continue to "go down to the sea in ships". Repulse was built with great skill and care by Vickers Shipbuilders (VSEL) at Barrow-in-Furness on the NW coast of England; veteran submarine designers and builders from the Holland 4 in 1902 up to the latest Astute Class submarines (although now as BAE Systems Submarine Solutions). Launched in November 1967, she became part of the Royal Navy's polaris nuclear deterrent on her commissioning in 1968. I was one of 143 Port Crew members, and a similar number of Starboard Crew (Blue and Gold in the USN) who stood proudly by as the white ensign was raised for the first time.

For the 143 men (sorry, no women as yet allowed on naval submarines!) of each crew she was a happy ship, and remained undetected during all of her 60 patrols. Apart from regular drills life could be pretty monotonous - a daily round of watches, maintenance and the occasional defect to repair. Off-watch activities were devoted to sleep, endless games of uckers (ludo), Risk and cards, cinema and an array of meals that old submariners could only dream of. Other diversions were a daily radio program, the newsheet and, possibly a first for a submarine, on one patrol a pantomime was produced.

For the families it meant the loss of the "man of the house" for weeks on end, with no communication from the boat, and only the once weekly familygram sent from shore. Initially 20 words, it was usually of the order of "Took children to zoo, all OK, weather awful, car broke down, grass needs mowing, missing you, not long to go." Later versions were up to 50 words long, but all were vetted before release and were at the Captain's discretion if really bad news was included.

A strange life, living in a tin box under the sea, and not for everyone I suspect. As young men I don't think we thought too hard about it, although the implication of actually firing our missiles would be that we had no homes to return to. None of us really believed we would ever use our deterrent, and it is fair to say that with them on both sides they did keep the cold war from becoming hot. Lasting friendships were made on those patrols, and for those of us who left the Navy early, previous reunions have reminded us of how close-knit we were once upon a time.

This weekend will, I know, be a time for reminiscing, as well as catching up. The bodies will be a little fuller, the hair a little less, but I have no doubt that the beer and wine will flow freely as always, and so will the tall stories and memories. I wish them all good cheer and hope to meet up with them at the 50th reunion. In the meantime, "Up Spirits" and "Splice the Mainbrace".

"They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; These see the works of the LORD, and his wonders in the deep. For he commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths: their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wits' end. Then they cry unto the LORD in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet; so he bringeth them unto their desired haven." Psalms, 107:23-30,

Made in Virginia

According to Virginia Governor Tim Kaine, people should buy food grown in their own backyard. The Richmond Times-Dispatch (September 24) reported that " Kaine made a push for state residents to spend $10 of their weekly grocery bills on Virginia-grown products, saying that would pump an additional $1.65 billion into the state's economy."

We couldn't agree more and we give the Governor a round of applause for recognizing this simple solution to several problems. This past week, we watched in disgust as the number of children affected by melamine contamination in milk reached 53,000. And unless you have been living under a rock (or possibly in the White House), you know that we are in for a mighty rough ride while Wall Street gets itself sorted out- most likely on our dime. Money is going to be tight, and this is on top of already history-making high prices for petroleum and food.

We've been trying to become more self-sufficient for some time, now. We produce our own eggs and dairy products, as well as some vegetables. We buy locally, whenever we can. We trade horse manure for vegetables grown by a local organic farmer. We also know what's in our food, though in the case of the eggs, we'd rather not dwell on that too much.

But you don't need to live on a farm to grow your own food, and whether you do or not, you may need less money to buy the food you can't grow. If everyone were to grow even one tomato plant, you'd save more each year than the $10 Governor Kaine is proposing we spend in Virginia. Of course, by next summer, one tomato will probably cost $10. But if you grow two tomato plants, you can trade some of your tomatoes for your neighbor's zucchinis. Then your neighbor can bring his zucchinis and tomatoes over to our place and trade us for cheese and horse poop, which he can then trade back to you for whatever else you decided to grow in the meantime. If you really don't want to grow anything and you are going to spend that $10 anyway, you can buy something from your local farmer's market or vegetable stand and at least know what you are eating.

Still thinking about buying another horse, despite the rotten economy? Contact your local horse rescue and adopt one. You'll not only save money that you can use to buy tomato plants with, you'll provide a good home for a horse that needs one, you'll open up space for another needy horse at the rescue, you'll generate poop for your tomato plants and you'll support your local feed supplier, who may not have time to grow tomatoes and could buy yours. In an effort to help Virginia's horses find homes, our friends over at Traveller's Rest Equine Elders Sanctuary have developed a web resource site to help you find horses that are seeking homes. The site is located at: http://forums.delphiforums.com/VAhorsesneed. Some owners might even trade for tomatoes.

Below is a picture of our friend Heath, and Tillie, the horse we adopted to him. Heath is demonstrating an additional benefit of adopting a horse, which is having company while you rest after planting all those tomatoes. Seriously, we do not suggest that anyone do this, as horses startle easily and one could end up planting its feet on your head. But the picture tickled us and does show the nice chemistry between Heath and his friend, Tillie.














Photo of Governor Kaine: www.governor.virginia.gov

Arachnophobia and "Tis the Season"

Now I am not the greatest fan of our eight-legged friends, being a low to medium high arachniphobe depending on the size and and poison potential. I did once stroke the back of a red-kneed tarantula at a zoo exhibition, but there was a keeper with a whip and chair to keep good order. Generally, I prefer them to stay in their place and I'll stay in mine. I have never really got over the shock of discovering that the "Black Widow" spider (Latrodectus mactans is the southern variety) was not only indigenous but prolific. Having heard as a kid in the UK that these mean instant death, I was somewhat dismayed to find one on my bare arm when shifting some stone wall rocks. Thankfully, it seemed more interested in getting back to its cosy damp dark hole than biting me, but my reservations remain. As an aside we only have the one poisonous spider, and one poisonous snake (well more than one of each, but you know what I mean) the Adder (Vipera berus). So again, having heard as a child that to be bitten by one was fatal (we Brits love scaring the pants off our kids!) and not being a great lover of the hissing things, Virginia, and farms in particular, are a constant source of disquiet during the snake mating season. Admittedly we usually only see King Snakes, but as Burns might have a said "a snakes a snake for all that".











Anyway back to arachnids. This year we have been blessed (or not depending on your phobia) with a large number of the black and yellow garden spiders, Argiope aurantia to be exact, and wary as I am of the spider family I cannot help but admire this particular variety. I don't know if they are the largest in this part of the world, but they must be near. I have seen big crickets caught in their webs and wrapped up for later disposal. I am very much a "live and let live" sort of person, so provided they stayed reasonably away from my normal passageways I was happy to have their fly control capabilities on my side. I did draw the line at between the handles of our brushmower, and removed her to a more secluded spot - a long piece of wood since you asked! One by one they have disappeared, presumably as the nights got cooler, until only one remains. Sadly, she does not have the stabilimenta , or zig-zag lines of thread, that characterize the argiope's web, but I did capture her in glorious technicolor. I suspect that in a few more days she too will be gone, leaving her small sack of children behind to hatch out in the Spring.

So the cycle of life goes on, with the seasons still ruling the lives of our animal friends, even if we have given them up in favor of the digital watch and lettuce all year round. The Autumn equinox has come (yesterday) and now the nights get longer than the days. I am sad, as always, to see the long hot days ending, but can look forward with pleasure to mulled wine in front of a real log fire. We have stalls for all the animals, three open fires in the house, milk and eggs every day, and a portable generator (that I might get round to putting somewhere useful) should the big one hit. Crisis!! What crisis? Just remember the Boy Scout motto and "Be Prepared".

Classified Ad

Today, Annie and Penny are two months old. What a wonderful age for calves! Newborns are sweet, but completely clueless. At one month, they are starting to play, but are still timid and unsure, and still very dependent on their moms. At two months, well heck, they just love everybody.

Annie never did learn to nurse from her mom, though Bessie has been an excellent mother in every other way. So Annie associates people with food and neck rubs, but understands that she must be respectful of adults- people as well as cows. She is lovable, but without the obnoxious behaviors that many orphans (without such good moms) acquire. Penny was very aloof for the first month of her life, hiding behind her mother and initially just tolerating being haltered and led. But lately, she’s really come out of her shell and she is just as affectionate as Annie, She has a strong personality and is very confident, so she sometimes needs a reminder of what constitutes acceptable calf behavior. “Acceptable” does not include romping with humans.

We have discovered that teaching calves is a lot different from teaching horses. Horses are timid, where calves are emotional. Both learn to trust your judgment, but for different reasons. Horses can be convinced early on that you are in charge, and if they are handled well, they may never quite realize that they are stronger than you are. If they are frightened (and this happens easily), their first reflex is to run away. I’ve always thought that you need to flirt with horses, just like you do cats. Cows know from an early age how strong they are, but they are perfectly willing to go along with your program as long as they think you are being fair and reasonable. If they don’t, they will protest and simply refuse to do what you are asking. They aren’t easily frightened, but like horses, if they become concerned over something, they will generally believe you if you tell them things are fine. Calves, especially, need and respond to encouragement. Both cows and horses need to be taught to be respectful of your personal space. We have discovered that horses are easier to intimidate than cows, and if a cow is beginning to walk over the top of you, it will not stop just because you are making a scary noise. Turning them around when they are determined to go somewhere else is like trying to turn your car around by dragging it at the end of a dog leash.

Annie already has a new home waiting for her. She is just busy growing up enough to be weaned, so she won’t be leaving for awhile. She has a new friend waiting there, too, so she won’t be lonely. Penny is still for sale. We have had inquiries on her, but no firm offers, yet. I will miss these calves terribly. But I am sucking it up and gamely trying to market them. So, I have composed the following advertisement for Penny:

“For Sale: Calf. Brown. Missing top teeth. Not broke to ride, drive or milk. Scared of the cat. You probably can’t afford her right now, given the state of the economy. You really should be paying off your credit card.”

After all, I am a scrupulously honest person and would not want to mislead anyone by embellishing her description.

Breeding will out!

Pugs can suffer from severe breathing problems due to close inbreeding.

Photograph: Getty Images

At: http://www.guardian.co.uk/news/blog/2008/sep/15/animalwelfare*, the Guardian reported yesterday that in the UK the leading animal humane society, the RSPCA, has announced that it will no longer support the Kennel Club's (KC) premier dog show event, Crufts. This show carries the level of prestige that the Westminster Kennel Club show does in the USA. The RSPCA took this strong stand after a recent BBC documentary showing the horrible genetic diseases caused by years of canine inbreeding. Using the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel as one example, it pointed out that many are suffering from syringomyelia, which is when a dog's brain is too big for its skull. It is the cranial equivalent of stuffing a size 10 foot into a size 6 shoe. Other breeds carry the traits for blindness and deafness, as well as kidney problems and severely shortened life spans (see http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/episodes/dogs-that-changed-the-world/selective-breeding-problems/1281/ and http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,163404,00.html for more examples.) It is also possible that the BBC will stop televising Crufts, even though it has been a flagship, calendar fixture for 40 years (they are contracted for two more years).

Dog lovers and veterinarians have been exhorting the KC for many years to consider the health of the dog when focusing on breed characteristics. In the UK the KC sets the standards for breeds and, as a consequence, is largely responsible for the good and bad genetic changes that ensue. In the US the AKC claims that breeders set these standards, but regardless of where the blame lies it is a weak argument when the standards run contrary to veterinary opinion. Someone is accountable and others are complicit, and the animals suffer. The blog goes on to report that the RSPCA wants to see a change in the breed rules to prioritize health, welfare and temperament over appearance. It also wants to see the development of health-focused breeding strategies for individual breeds, including steps to increase their genetic diversity.

Our experience with pure breeds in dogs had been fairly limited. Jorg had a Weimeraner that she raised from a puppy, but apart from being very intelligent, her only extreme characteristic was an overriding passion for food (I still remember the Stilton episode, Sally!). On the other hand, Bridget, French Bulldog and Katrina rescue, had all the worst traits of her breed - breathing difficulties (she was on theophylline daily), spinal problems, bent legs, bone spurs in her back and digestive problems (tendency to bloat). On a good day, her life was probably no better than tolerable. Going up and down the stairs was a problem and allergy season was excruciating. We spent many sleepless nights with her and several emergency trips to the vet's as a result of these problems. In her youth she was a valued show dog, but I doubt that she gained much from the experience, compared to what she suffered through later in life.

Unfortunately, and not to be unfair, this problem is not limited to the canines, as followers of the feline, equine, bovine and avian worlds can attest. It is encouraging that in the mini-Jersey sphere great attempts are being made to ensure general health and genetic diversity, along with the desire for a small size.

My personal feeling is that the RSPCA's (and hopefully the BBC’s) move will encourage the KC to look at its breed regulations and modify those elements that affect a dog's health. It doesn't seem unreasonable to breed healthy, as well as breed-specific, traits. Maybe even the AKC will catch on. One can hope.

*Interestingly, when I went back to the Guardian to find the article today it had been changed from the original. Some additional material arising from responses to the article by KC and the BBC, but also a more toned down comment from the KC's chief Vet! My URL will take you to the original article.

PS From Jorg

The Famous Stilton Episode: One of Tom's greatest pleasures in life is English Stilton cheese, enjoyed over the holidays and preferably with a good Port. It's expensive, here. Really expensive. But it's a luxury that we enjoy during the Christmas season as a tradition in this family, comparing each year's Stilton wedge against previous year's. One year, Tom prepared himself a snack by taking the large wedge of Stilton out of the refrigerator and putting it on a plate with some triscuits and Branston pickle. He set it down on the coffee table, got up to get himself a drink, and returned to (you guessed it), Sally looking very pleased with herself and no Stilton. All things considered, Tom was a good sport about it, though a very disappointed one. A part of our holiday ended a little early that year. I am pleased to report, though, that our cheesemaking friend Pamela is coming over Sunday to start a Stilton for us using the milk from our Mini Jerseys, and which should be ready by the holidays. We'll let you know how it turns out.

Farm Interrupted

After a week away from the farm, it's good to be back. Animal Planet got old pretty quickly. Even very good hotels do not serve fresh eggs and real cream for your coffee. My only entertainment, besides a tour of the lovely Tech campus by one of my colleagues and an evening spent with the Treasurer of our rescue (a veterinary student at the University- Hi Beth!), was TV. In a moment of self-discovery, I realized that my tolerance for television has somewhat diminished over the past few years. I averaged about five minutes of presidential politics before clasping my hands tightly to my ears and singing "lalalalalalala!!!" I needed brain bleach. Time to tune out the media until after the election.

I also deeply missed my animals and my best friend and companion in life. Tom did a great job of keeping everything running. All the animals are fat and happy and we have had no more geriatric losses. We also avoided any impact from the very impressive Hurricane Ike, which did us a huge favor by hitting the Gulf rather than the east coast. Our sympathies go out to the folks in south Texas, though. It appears that Josephine is breaking up into an unorganized storm, the grass is growing from all the rain we got from Hanna, and we may actually get a small second cutting of hay, which would be nice to have this year. The calves are leading like perfect ladies and Rosebud, the mini Jersey cow, appears to be in heat. The Coer di bue, Cream Sausage and Egg Yolk tomatoes are doing really well. The fields have become lush again, so our metabolically challenged horses are muzzled (again).

That last sentence probably needs some explanation. Horses, like people, need to regulate their blood sugar in order to prevent damage to their capillaries and organs. Some horses, like some people (diabetics), have problems doing this. They generally fall into two groups: horses that are insulin-resistant and horses that have Cushing's syndrome, or changes or tumors in their pituitary glands. A very common result of both conditions is laminitis, or the inflammation of the layers of a horse's hoof. Laminitis is very painful and can cause permanent changes that will lame horses for life, or destroy their quality of life. This is the same disorder that Barbaro could not overcome.

One of the ways to combat the problem is to control what a horse eats, the same way you would deal with diabetes in people. Horses eat a lot of carbohydrates in grass and feed. Carbohydrates are easily broken down into sugars by their bodies, so it's important to restrict them. We do that by putting grazing muzzles on our horses. The muzzles allow them to eat some grass without overdoing it. Our metabolically- challenged guys also eat low-carbohydrate feed along with supplements and medication. These measures keep them healthy and happy for years.

In the picture above, Wonder and Star are shown with grazing muzzles. Both of these horses have Cushing's disease (a tumor on the pituitary) and both have suffered hoof and foot damage. Wonder was treated promptly, so his damage was minimal. Star was not so fortunate and has more severe problems. But the continued control of the conditions that landed them at White Bird means that both horses have a high quality of life. They are, incidentally, each others' best friends in the whole world and spend much of the day playing with each other. Ulysses has recently joined them, so they have formed their own little herd of three out of the larger herd in their field.

The masks on these horses, by the way, protect their eyes from insects. These two horses also have an eye disorder called equine recurrent uveitis, so the masks also help to shade their eyes and protect them from wind and dust.

It's been said that "all politics are local" and I truly believe that. We can't control everything in the world or in this country, but there are many things that individuals can do. In our case, we try to make life better for horses that have no other options and we try to make the world slightly better by reducing our dependence on foreign and factory-farmed food. It's good to be back. For now, we'll just keep the TV turned off, try to grow better tomatoes and spend a whole lot of time in the barn cleaning stalls. The latter activity keeps us practiced in the skill of identifying manure, which is especially helpful during election season.