Elvis Has Left the Building

In the blur that was summer, somehow, Elvis reached weaning age. I don't know how that happened. One minute, he resembled a dark, timid satellite, revolving around the bovine planets of the pasture galaxy. From the house, we could see him streaking around the field in the evenings like a small bat. The next minute, he was a chunky little Ferdinand with an emerging interest in older women. Actually, it isn't just the ladies that he is fond of. Elvis loves everyone. Despite our best efforts not to overhandle him, this is the most personable calf we have produced to date. Anyone within smooching distance who isn't quick enough gets two layers of skin removed by that sandpaper tongue. He was a favorite of the rescue volunteers, several of whom sat for hours to keep him company during the lonely weaning process.

Jersey bulls have a reputation as some of the fiercest creatures in cowdom. The Miniature Jerseys seem to be losing this tendency and many stay gentle for life. However: until they reach maturity and all those hormones kick in, it will be difficult to tell. So we have tried to keep him respectful of people and to teach him good manners. Elvis has been a stellar student. He is polite, cautious and tries to please. As long as you are not a cat, you are the boss.

Elvis has a wonderful new home with this new best girls Violet and Daisy. The girls were fascinated with him and one even lept a 4-foot fence to go meet the new guy. We were impressed with her talent and think she may have a career in the hunter-jumper circuit if that milk thing doesn't pan out. But we congratulate Nancy and Gary on their new arrival. We will certainly miss him.

Chicken and Two Veg *

Carrie

Not in the cooking sense, you understand. Our chickens will live out their senior years in the chicken assisted living facility known as Triskelion Farm. Having had mixed success with chicks this year, trying to widen our range of both colored eggs and exotic chickens, our ratio of cocks to hens managed to come out too high. Consequently, we have been playing catchup in the hope that the new coop occupants would both play nicely together and not start a "who is cock of the coop" war! Thanks to Heather we have some pretty Marans with a boatload of creative names, and the photos really don't do them justice. "Little", who spent the first few weeks of his life on everything except life-support, has now caught up with the others and is a very colorful and robust young man. Having tried to save money by designing our own coop (back of envelope design shown below) and getting the ever-handy Todd to build it, we have had to give in and add another coop in the small run, to accommodate the growing (literally) number of chickens. Thus a small village is growing up at the back of the arena, much to the puzzlement of the cows who spend hours gazing into the runs.

As you can see the vegetable choice is much wider than just two, and our color chart for nutrition is well covered. We aren't really self-sufficient but we do have enough produce to last the winter, supplemented with regular eggs and dairy products.

What is more pertinent, we know where they came from, and what went into the ground and onto the leaves. Also thanks to Keith and Michelle, and the "poop barter", we also have a much wider choice of veggies than we could ever grow ourselves. Jorg and I count ourselves lucky in these troubled times that we have the means and the health to use the beautiful space that we have in this way.

*"Meat and two veg" was the traditional British meal post-WW2. Much lampooned by the rest of the world - under or over-done meat, soggy cabbage, burnt potatoes, we've heard it all.

Musical Interlude

Blue Grass music has a great tradition in Virginia, with bands and events all over the State. Originating in Kentucky in the early '40's with Bill Monroe and the Blue Grass Boys, a whole new musical genre was spawned. Folk, Country and Western, Mountain and Hill Billy music (particularly from the Appalachians, and hence the Virginia link), Jazz sets and even Rock and Roll have all influenced bands over the years. With a traditional line-up of fiddle, banjo, guitar/ukulele/mandolin, and base, in varying numbers and often augmented with other acoustic stringed instruments.

The reason for this minor piece of musicology is an article in the Guardian I ran across on Steve Martin (http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2009/aug/05/steve-martin-banjo-dolly-parton) - a man of many parts, and undoubtedly all of them done to the highest level. In my ignorance, not having been in the US all my life, I had failed to take in the fact that he is a very accomplished banjo player. That is until I happened to hear him on "The Prairie Home Companion" playing two pieces from his CD The Crow: New Songs for the 5-String Banjo, brought out this year. Now I, in a fit of enthusiasm, and being egged on by my lovely wife (who is no mean performer on the guitar - even on 3 strings after a long evening in an Irish pub, but I digress) and who bought me a handsome, vintage 5-string banjo, once took lessons. And if anyone thinks that producing that melodic "plunk plunk" is easy, you obviously haven't tried. As my kids can tell you I have about as much musical talent as a bullfrog, and in the end I decided it was better to listen to someone who could play, than make the sort of noises guaranteed to have the neighbors calling the local noise abatement society.

So in that spirit, and because the blog has not had any music before, the link below should take you to the "Tin Roof" track from Steve Martin's CD. For me it is a sublime piece of banjo playing, and totally unfair that one man should have so much talent!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z6Urd-Br7go&feature=related

Post Posting Note: An old friend of mine has reminded me that "a gentleman is someone who knows how to play the banjo but doesn't........." Thank you Tara, I rest my case.

"Sumer Is Icumen In"

That tree again

"Summer is a coming in," as the old English round has it, and an English summer at that! Well it must be, because we have had copious amounts of rain in June and July. However: the offsetting temperatures (and, of course, the humidity) have been much higher than we are used to in the UK. There, it crept into the 90's a couple of times this year and the whole nation went into shock!

Life at Triskelion Farm usually has that seasonal rhythm of farms everywhere. Gray and brown turn to green, and then to the pinks, purples and reds of the summer plants and trees. This year has been a little different. Normally by now, our metabolically-challenged horses can be let out without their muzzles as the grass begins to die back and lose some of its carbs. This year the paddocks and fields are still bright green and, much to their occupants disgust, muzzles are still de rigeur. Our first hay cutting was a good one, and with a half decent second cut we will have our year's supply. With El Nino arriving, we might even get a small third cut.

On the vegetable front, the consistent rainfall has resulted in an unusually good year, though we have had some early blight in the tomatoes and the Squash bugs marched through the zucchini like an invading army. Now,we have the anticipated surplus when everything ripens at once and our evenings are spent boiling jars and chopping veggies. The small amount of working surface in our miniscule kitchen is covered in tomatoes, beans, squash and the best looking egg plants (aubergines) I have seen anywhere. Jorg makes a mean meal chopping them into thin slices, salting them, soaking in beaten egg and frying them. Yummy, and extremely moreish!

We did some experimenting this year with new veggies and learned a few things. What did really well: white squash, kale, kohlrabi, beets, eggplants - both ichiban and black beauty, peppers, black-eyed peas, cow peas, tomatoes, cucumbers, potatoes. More trouble than they were worth: radishes, onions, zucchini (succumbed to marauding insects). Jury still out: parsnips, turnips. Things we'll try this fall: spinach, cabbage, more beets (these were better than we thought they would be).

Elvis and "Auntie" Bessie

Elvis is now 3 months old and has grown into a good looking, if very macho, young man. His debudding went well, he is hale and hearty and so is about to be weaned. This will, of course, entail much plaintive bellowing and crying (and that's just Jorg and I) until Priscilla realizes she is no longer a milk-giving punchbag for a rough calf and settles down to my gentle ministrations on the daily milking. This year, Priscilla has given us our first case of mastitis and a real doozie, at that. We tried the natural methods like Masto-blast and Mint Cream without much success so we went to a more aggressive treatment, a penicillin infusion. I don't know how many of you have contemplated shoving a plastic nozzle up a cow's teat, but I can tell you I wasn't looking forward to it. Any male who has had a urological examination will understand the problem. Luckily for me the treatment is actually a painless procedure and easily accomplished, especially with a patient cow like Priscilla. For all her sensitivity to activities around her head, she is patience personified when it comes to milking. We pleased to report that the mastitis has finally cleared and her udder has returned its normal shape.

Bessie and Rosebud are officially pregnant and will freshen in November. Somewhere in Ohio, a bull is stocking up on cigars. But that means we will not get a break from milking until we dry them out next year, during the last two months of their next pregnancies when their bodies need a break before nursing another calf. We intend to get all three girls on the same cycle in order to give us a vacation during this period and a chance to get some time away.

Our new White Bird web site is finally up and running (thank you, Jones!) with its own blog, so expect to see rescue news over there, we will continue to post highlights on here.

Picture courtesy of GETTY IMAGES

A final note, under the "proud to be Manx" heading. As early readers of the blog know we chose the name of the farm and our logo, Triskelion, for my Manx heritage. For all you cyclists out there, the winner of the last stage of the Tour de France, in Paris (and his 6th stage win of the Tour) was Mark Cavendish from the Isle of Man. Not bad for an island of 81,000 inhabitants. Urrmagh ries Mark.

Shandy 2002 - 2009

In 2002, my husband and I were animal rescue volunteers who often helped drive rescue transports. These are relay trains of volunteers who drive segments of longer trips, in order to remove animals from kill shelters and deliver them to rescues, often many hundreds of miles away.. One of our other volunteer activities was to scan on-line photos of shelter dogs and alert breed rescues to the presence of "their" breed, especially in high kill shelters. One day, I was scanning photos for the Memphis Shelter and happened upon the picture below.
She was no special breed and at an awkward age, but the look on this young dog's face absolutely haunted me. After a brief (God love him) discussion with my husband, we decided to have her "pulled" from the shelter. We worked with Responsible Animal Owners of TN to have her removed from the shelter and spayed, and then with a transport group to arrange the logistics of getting her home, which was then to Northern VA. We met the last driver in Roanoke and drove the last two legs to bring her home. She is the middle dog in the photo, shown at the pickup point in Roanoke and was about 5 months old.
Shandy had a rough start. She'd contracted kennel cough in TN that quickly turned into pneumonia. It took us nearly a week to even get her to eat. We discovered that she was terrified of lots of things and was a nervous wetter, wetting in dozens of spots around the house in an effort to avoid detection. She had been badly handled and it took us about 6 months to truly housebreak her. But this ungainly, anxious little dog turned into an epic beauty. She matured into a dog that people oohed and ahhhed over because of her exotic good looks. She was gentle enough to be trustworthy around bunnies, small children and chicks. Though still a little timid, she was the official family greeter, and whenever I came in the door, she went into a pyrotechnic spin of jubilation. In our back yard she was "jungle dog", exploring the long grass but always returning for reassurance. And she retained her terror of thunderstorms and loud noises, and some other strange things like cameras. This was ultimately her undoing.

Shandy was a beloved member of our family. For seven years, she repaid us every day for having spotted her in that shelter, where she certainly would have died. Our household is a lot emptier and her best dog friend, Jack (rescued when he was out of time at the Westmoreland Shelter), still misses her.

In all of my calls and visits to shelters over the week, I have looked at these animals and asked the same questions: Where are their people? Is someone looking for them? And if the answer to the last question is "no," doesn't anyone see how special they are?

We want to sincerely thank the many people who helped us in our search, the folks who sent us messages, and those who simply wished us well. We have learned a lot of things in the last two weeks and one of them is how giving and gracious the people of Southside are. I do want to ask everyone one favor, though. The next time you see a loose dog standing by the side of the road who is looking lost and confused, please stop. You may be what they need in their lives at that moment, more than anything or anyone else in the world. If you are right, and you stopped because you read this, Shandy will have accomplished one last good thing.

Thank you for all for caring, and for allowing us to share.

Elvis has entered the building!

Actually, he's entered the "L-barn," to be more precise. Somewhere around midnight, Priscilla's long-awaited calf made the decision to join us.

Priscilla had been taking her time with this one, which concerned us because she is a very small cow and she had been bred to a larger bull when we bought her. She was also late for the vet's estimated due date. We have had several false alarms in the past two weeks and, though we have been watching her carefully, she seemed determined to keep her freshening a secret. Last night, she calmly ate her dinner and showed no early signs of labor. But when Tom checked on her in the wee hours, Elvis was here, dry and on his feet.

Priscilla is a careful momma and is very protective of her baby. But she bribes easily and we are certain that we will be able to handle Elvis with a minimum of concern on her part. For now, we are just giving them a little quiet time to get to know each other.

Welcome, Elvis!

Our Peeps

Our garden is now in full vegetative bloom, complete with kale, beets, cucumbers, beans, tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, squash, melons, lettuce, onions, radishes and sunchokes. And in the very near future, we will have an abundant crop of insects that eat kale, beets, cucumbers, beans, tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, squash, melons, lettuce, onions and radishes. Last year, we discovered that no living creature will eat Jerusalem artichokes. They are tasty and nutritious, no doubt about it. But they also require a major realignment of your digestive track to process. All animals seem to know this. Still, if the big one hits Burkeville, they are a likely path to survival. The plants, members of the sunflower family, take enthusiastic hold anywhere you plant them. We have been told that the only way to get rid of them is to move.

This spring, we have decided to add to our little flock of chickens. We already have hens that lay brown, white and blue eggs. So to keep our refrigerator interesting (that is, if you don’t consider what’s in there now interesting enough), we opted for two more groups that will lay green and dark brown eggs. I say “groups” because the first four pullets are a cross between the lovely Buff Orpington and the tailless Araucuana. We purchased these as started birds at six weeks old. They are gentle and attractive and will probably lay eggs that are either green or pink.

We brought the second little troupe home yesterday. They are six little Marans of several color varieties: Birchen, Blue Copper and Black Copper and they are about three days old, not a lot bigger than our dust bunnies. We won’t go there. But Tom and I spent the first few hours of their arrival watching them investigate their little enclosure, peeping and rolling over in little fluff balls when their large, unfamiliar feet wouldn’t get out of the way. We had some concern over the little black one, who was suffering from stress and seemed unusually subdued. This morning, however, he was considerably brighter and we think he is on the road to recovery.

Watching these tiny creatures taking their little stumbling steps into the world reduces it in size a little. We don’t know what the national economy will look like tomorrow. They don’t yet know whether we will eat them. They are, after all, nature’s little snacks. Their concerns seem bigger than mine. But when I reached my hand in yesterday to give them food, one of these tiny, half-ounce birds puffed himself up and with all the deadly intensity of a pit viper, lunged and pecked me. I was impressed. Of course, one of these days, about half of these birds will be 12-lb roosters with spurs. At that point, I will be even more impressed. But for the time being, watching these fragile chicks bravely facing an unknown world makes me want to buck up and stand tall. Sometimes, problems are just a matter of your perspective. For example, a bumper crop of ravenous bugs will look entirely different to me than it will to these little guys. To them, it will look like a crawling smorgasbord. Who knows? Maybe we can all learn to eat Jerusalem artichokes.

Welcome Home: Speckled Jim, Willow, Bob, Amber, Tattoo, Sasha, Little, China, Carrie and Brighteyes.