Tag Archives: cattle

Gov. Dayton declares Minnesota TB-Free

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Gov. Mark Dayton has declared today, Dec. 7, 2011, as TB-Free Day in Minnesota. The declaration marks the end of a six-year battle in the state to eradicate bovine tuberculosis and regain its TB-Free status.

In making the declaration, Dayton acknowledged the dedication shown by Minnesota livestock farmers, the Minnesota Board of Animal Health, the Minnesota Departments of Agriculture and Natural Resources, the U.S. Department of Agriculture, agricultural groups, state legislators and numerous other state agencies over the past six years.

With the help of nearly 500 veterinarians, Minnesota producers tested 758,929 head of cattle and bison for bovine TB over the past six years, while the Board of Animal Health tracked thousands of animal movements, ensuring effective animal traceability.

Dayton said the state’s cattle producers contributed nearly $1 million to help support bovine TB eradication efforts.

Approximately 14 miles of deer exclusion fencing was erected on northwest Minnesota farms in the management zone to stop the spread of bovine TB; andMinnesota deer hunters worked with the Minnesota DNR to test 13,841 wild deer for the bacterial disease. Of the deer tested, 9,738 were from northwest Minnesota, and the remaining 4,058 were from outside the zone as part of a statewide surveillance.

The Board of Animal Health has maintained some requirements for cattle and bison herds in the management zone, while the DNR will continue to manage deer populations and conduct surveillance of hunter-harvested wild deer in the area until testing indicates the disease has been eliminated in deer.

“The hard work and dedication of many people have brought us to this great day — reclaiming Minnesota’s statewide TB-Free status,” said Gov. Dayton, adding that bovine TB was eliminated in record time. “I want to thank the Board of Animal Health, the Minnesota State Cattlemen’s Association, the Minnesota Milk Producers Association, Minnesota Farm Bureau, Minnesota Farmers Union and everyone else who participated in this tremendous effort to protect Minnesota agriculture and make us TB-Free.”

Farm visits and fish wishes

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By the time I’d started my fifth load of laundry on Saturday, I began to reflect on what led up to such a monumental pile of one person’s dirty clothes.

Three times last week I had to drive home in the middle of the day to change clothes — once in preparation for a walk through a field, once after walking through fields and getting my jeans caked in mud (no, I didn’t fall!), and once to change shoes and socks after sinking through a crust of manure-tinged soil.

Memories of all three of the excursions still bring a smile to my face — especially that last one. That was the day I left my boots in the hatchback and nearly lost a shoe on the Feikema farm north of Luverne. Cattle farmer Mike graciously smiled … there was no ridicule about wearing “girly shoes” on a farm in springtime, which I appreciated immensely!

In what had to be the best stretch of days all spring, I was glad to get away from behind my office desk and take off in my mobile office, equipped with Greta Garmin, a camera with two lenses, notebooks, pens and my cell phone.

The cell phone came in handy when Greta Garmin claimed 170th Street at Luverne didn’t exist. (I’d say something about technology here, but since the cell phone came to my rescue, I’d better not.)

It wasn’t the first time Greta failed me — and it probably won’t be the last.

Little more than a week ago, Greta tried to direct me and my carload of passengers into a lake somewhere outside of Park Rapids. Certainly, it wasn’t the address to the hostel at Itasca State Park, where our latest U-Lead Advisory Academy session was to be.

Greta wasn’t the only one leading members of our group astray. At least three other drivers of carpools were taken down the same beautiful back-country road. Somewhere, a GPS programmer is snickering, I’m sure.

Anyway, I haven’t had time to blog about my excursion with U-Lead to the headwaters of the Mississippi River — apparently because I’m too busy changing clothes and doing laundry!

The three-day adventure, our last lengthier U-Lead session, included two nights at the Headwaters Hostel in Itasca State Park, multiple leadership sessions at the Jacob Brower Visitor Center and a trip to the Red Lake Nation.

While I had visited Itasca State Park once before, the trip to Red Lake was a new adventure. We visited the town of Red Lake (home to the basketball team that has faced the maroon and gold of Ellsworth in state playoffs in recent years), and toured a wild rice packaging facility, spoke with community leaders about health and nutrition on the reservation, and visited the Red Lake Nation Fisheries.

The fisheries stop was my favorite. We saw hundreds of fish — perch, whitefish, walleye and northern pike — being filleted, packed in ice and prepped for shipping. It’s one of the largest industries on the reservation, with all of the fish netted from Lower Red Lake.

The daily catch for the fisheries averages about 4,000 perch, 2,000 walleye and 2,000 northern pike. Fishing on Lower Red Lake reopened two years ago after it had been closed for a decade.

As you can imagine, I was ogling the walleyes and wishing I could be so lucky as to catch just one this fishing season. That’s all I ask for — just one good keeper.

I wonder if Greta Garmin could help direct me to the appropriate lake … when I’m finished with my laundry.

Facing my Fears; Screaming for Help

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(As promised in my previous blog, I found the column in which I mentioned Big Red … it was published in June 2008 in the Daily Globe’s Today’s Farm edition. Since Big Red hasn’t made it into the Farm Bleat, I’ve decided this story is worth repeating here – it’s a perfect way to cap off the 2011 version of National Agriculture Week!)

June 2008: I remember well the day I learned to fear the massive four-legged beast.

I was about 10 years old, teaching my goat Princess how to walk with a lead rope in the cattle pasture when, all of a sudden, I heard these thundering footsteps behind me.

Just as I thought my little Princess couldn’t possibly make that much noise I turned around to see Big Red, my oldest brother’s 4-H steer, with his head down and charging right for me and my goat. I dove for cover in the wooden hay manger while screaming for Princess to run — run for her life.

Princess survived. As for me, well, I was scarred for years — 27 years — and still counting.

For you see, I tried to face my fears just a few weeks ago only to find out that yes, I’m still terrified of cattle.

It all began with one of my dad’s three, nearly-market-ready Jersey steers chewing on a piece of blue tarp that mysteriously appeared in the cattle yard one evening.

After we had finished supper, I noticed the tarp was left laying at the top of the hill in the cattle yard, and the three steers were off in a corner, lazily chewing their cud.

Aha, that’s perfect, I thought. I can walk through the cattle yard, pick up the tarp and get out without possibly disturbing their rest.

Yeah, like that would happen.

Just as I bent down to pick up the tarp I realized I had company. I turned around in time to see all three steers within about an arm’s length of me. Then and there I knew I wasn’t going to escape the situation.

My first instinct was to shake the tarp and, in a barely audible voice, yell “Shooo.” Unfortunately, that excited them.

I managed to move about five feet — to a large tree stump I thought could be used for protection. Instead, it became a trap as the three steers moved in.

By this time I was seeing images of my lifeless body pinned against the tree stump. After they rammed me against the wood, I envisioned falling to the crusty ground and being trampled to death.

My body shook — except for my legs. I couldn’t move my legs.

Again I shook the tarp I was clutching in my hands. This time, one of the steers put his head down and kicked up his back legs. He took a step closer, and then another step.

And then … he stuck out his tongue and licked me — from my elbow to my shoulder!

(Did I mention these steers have sort of a pet mentality — thanks to my nieces and nephews who shower them with attention and have even given them names?)

So, there I stood — steer slobber on my jacket sleeve and still too terrified to move. I looked to the kitchen window, where I knew Mom would eventually see me flailing my arms. First, Mom hollered out the window, “Are you OK?” “No,” I shouted. Then she came to the garage door. “Do you need help?” she asked. “Yes,” I shouted. “I’m scared!” Mom walked out to the cattle gate, from where she told me to just starting walking toward her. I couldn’t move. “Come get me,” I pleaded. And, as I hope any parent would do, she came to my rescue. When she was finally by my side, Mom took the tarp from my hands and shook it at the steers. Oh boy, here we go again. The steers got all excited and kicked up their back legs. To them, this was some sort of game and we were the pawns.

“Take a run for it,” Mom said.

Yeah right. I should mention here that I was wearing Mom’s garden clogs — clogs that were two sizes too small for my “Buntjer-gene” big feet.

In the end, Mom took me by the arm and practically pulled my trembling body into motion. She flapped the tarp as we briskly walked toward the cattle gate, with all three steers jumping and kicking and having a grand ol’ time at my expense.

Safely on the other side, my fingers were shaking so much that Mom had to latch the cattle gate.

I took one last look at the cattle, muttered something like, “I can’t wait until you go to the butcher shop,” and headed into the house. No sooner had I entered the living room when Dad put down the newspaper he’d been hiding behind and flashed a big grin … that quickly broke into a chuckle. “What’s the matter? Did those steers scare you?” he asked. Gee, whatever gave him that idea?

Rodeo, oh Romeo

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I don’t know why nightmares have been plaguing me lately. A while back, Holstein cows were flying at me thanks to a southwest Minnesota twister. Early this morning, it was a cowboy dangling, then falling, from a rodeo bull that shook me from my slumber.

The common theme seems to be out-of-contr0l animals and me being forced to watch them. I have absolutely no idea what this means, but I’m ready for a nice dream about fluffy kittens or pretty little pooches.

I like rodeos, or at least I like to watch cowboys compete in bull riding. There’s just something about a guy in a cowboy hat and boots, but enough about that.

Nightmares seem to draw out the strange and completely unbelievable thoughts that apparently are wasting space in my mind. The reason this rodeo clip woke me with a start is that a giant Limousin bull was hoisted high above the crowd with the cowboy – apparently celebrating his victory - waving to the people far below and acting as a daredevil as he hung from the bull’s horns.

Needless to say the cowboy, in one of his stunts in which he wrapped his legs around the bulls horns and hung upside-down, slipped and plummeted head first toward the sandy rodeo ring.

My nightmare kindly (sarcasm) included the fall in slow motion … from several different angles. Fortunately, I never saw the cowboy actually hit the ground because I awoke in a panic. There’s no going back to sleep after watching something like that.

And, well, I’m pretty sure I won’t be watching any rodeos – not even on TV – for at least a little while.