Tag Archives: goats

From one scoop to another

Posted on by
Reply

Happy National Agriculture Week! I realize the week is half over, but agriculture production, innovation, research and processing happens every day, everywhere around us.

We shouldn’t be celebrating agriculture just one week out of the year; we should be celebrating agriculture every day.

From the cotton fields of North Carolina to the California vineyards, and from the cattle ranches of Texas to the corn rows of Minnesota — from the food on our plates to the britches on our behinds, agriculture is at the forefront of our everyday lives.

Agriculture touches so much around us that we tend to forget it is there — kind of like the air we breathe.

As I was trying to think of a farm tale to share with you, I kept thinking of my own family. My parents were part-time farmers with full-time jobs. Mom worked at Campbell’s Soup, pulling chicken meat off of wing bones; my Dad worked on the kill floor and eventually in packaging for Iowa Beef Processors. My three brothers and I were blue-collar kids spending our summers picking rock, walking beans, gathering eggs and feeding livestock.

Personally, I’d say it was the best childhood anyone could ask for, except for those dreaded tasks of baling hay and scooping manure.

That latter part — scooping manure — was a job I ended up doing more often than any of my three brothers, combined. The goat and the sheep herds were mine, and scooping their poop was just part of my job as a farmer. There was no such thing as a skid-loader on our farm back then. It was pure dirty, smelly, manual farm labor and it always seemed to take forever to get the pens clean.

 Pipes — bulging arm muscles — are never a good look for a girl, but I was a big-boned, German-rooted farm girl, and those pipes I built up in my teen years were the direct result of carrying five-gallon buckets of feed and shoveling soiled straw.

I wouldn’t say those pipes are sagging yet, but they sure haven’t been used like they were back then.

Trading in one scoop for another does that, I suppose.

Yes, I went from scooping manure in my teen years to searching for the scoop as a newspaper reporter and career woman. Agriculture is one of my beats, and I tend to travel with a pair of boots in the back of my car — waiting for my next on-the-farm interview.

Agriculture is still very much a part of who I am; it always will be. And, while production agriculture appears much different today from my growing-up years, it’s still the same. There are still farmers who tend to their animals and their crops. They put their heart and soul into the work they do, and that will never change.

So, thanks farmers — whether you’re retired or just plain tired — your work doesn’t go unnoticed.

Fair days are a’comin

Posted on by
Reply

Just like the Little Engine that Could, I’ve been chanting the words, “I think I can, I think I can,” for the past few days as the 2012 Nobles County Fair gets closer. 4-H Entry Day is just a week away.

I’m sure I’m not the only one working against a deadline. The difference is, most of those stressing out right about now are 4-H’ers — those kids ages 6 to 19 that bring all of their wonderful projects to display and “make the fair go ’round.”

I’m just a little older than they are. (Hey — no need to laugh out loud!)

Every year I do this. I wait until about the middle of June and then realize I have less than a couple of months to get something stitched up and ready to enter in the open class needlework division at the Nobles County Fair.

Fortunately, I seem to always have a selection of UFO’s (unfinished objects) that I can select from and manage to finish by Entry Day. This year was no exception. After putting the final stitches on a Hardanger runner last week, I decided I might actually have time to finish another project.

So, Friday night, I discovered in my stash of UFOs a doily I started more than five years ago. (Don’t ask me why I quit working on it. Most needleworkers have to have multiple projects going at any one time so as not to get “bored.”)

By the time you read this, I will have moved on to the “wrapping” —the last stage before the ever-stressful process of cutting out the doily. One wrong move or slip of the scissors and this piece could easily end up in the wastebasket.

My stitching projects for the open class competition seem far less stressful than were my days as a 4-H’er, when I had a handful of goats to train and clip, pairs of  chickens and turkeys to wash and fluff and at least half a dozen “non-livestock” projects to complete before Entry Day.

Then again, I’m not sure stress was quite the accurate word for those pre-fair tasks. There was the excitement, the anticipation …

Hmmm, I think that’s what I’m feeling now.

Oh, I love the county fair!

In search of animal advocates

Posted on by
2

While I can easily confess I don’t know a whole lot about sports, I’ve sat on the bleachers watching nephews play basketball and hockey enough times to know it’s a lot easier to be on the offense than it is to be on the defense.

The same can be said in agriculture — a subject I am considerably more comfortable talking about.

A perfect example of playing defense in agriculture stems back to my 4-H days, showing dairy goats at the Minnesota State Fair.

There is a particular goat breed with very small or no ear flaps, and one of the tourists — believing the goat’s ears were deliberately cut off — threatened to notify PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) and report the crime. I explained to him that the goat was born with small ears — it’s a trait of the La Mancha breed.

Clearly I was put in the position of playing defense. Could you imagine how the discussion could have escalated if the goat’s ears were deliberately cut? Most consumers can reasonably understand the need to dock tails on lambs, piglets or milk cows for health or safety reasons, but I would have had a hard time defending the cutting of goat ears.

Looking back on that experience now, I tend to think the dairy goat barn could have served as a great educational tool for the hundreds of thousands of people who visit the Minnesota State Fair each year. We could have had giant pictures identifying each of the breeds of dairy goats, and people could have seen for themselves the varying characteristics between Saanens, La Manchas, French Alpines, Toggenburgs, Oberhaslis and Nubians.

A little information can go a long way toward building a positive experience.

This brings me to an e-mail I received last week from someone at Watkins Glen, N.Y.-based Farm Sanctuary. She wanted to let me know she’d sent a letter to the Nobles County Attorney requesting that if a recent hog barn fire reported in the Daily Globe was found to have been caused by “someone’s act, omission or neglect,” the perpetrator be charged with cruelty to animals.

Honestly, I didn’t get past the first paragraph without muttering, “You’ve got to be kidding!”

For those of you who don’t know about Farm Sanctuary, let me fill you in just a little. This organization is against the use of farrowing crates for swine and pens for laying hens. They would rather all animals be allowed to roam free, but what they really want is for people to not eat meat.

Hearing what they’re about makes an incredible case for the need of animal advocates — farmers to share the real story about raising livestock and growing crops to feed a growing planet.

Now, I’m just a former farm kid who writes for the local paper, but I wasn’t beyond giving this New York chic a little Minnesota farm kid feedback.

Aside from pointing out the obvious — that the fire occurred in another county and in another state — I didn’t mince words when I told her no farmer, not one in Minnesota or Iowa or anywhere else for that matter, would purposely set fire to a barn filled with pigs so they could suffer. Those pigs were — and are for other hog producers — their livelihood.

I said a couple of other things in my heat-of-the-moment email reply that I certainly don’t regret saying. Sometimes it’s like that when you’re on the defense.

This incident seems to have happened at a perfect time. Trent Loos — animal advocate, radio personality, cattle rancher — will speak about animal advocacy Monday night in Worthington during the Nobles County Corn and Soybean Growers annual meeting. Doors open at 5:30 p.m. at the American Reformed Church, Worthington, with the Rock-Nobles Cattlemen serving a steak meal at 6 p.m. Tickets are still available at First State Bank Southwest, and will be available at the door Monday night for an increased price.

I’ll be there in search of a way to better control my temper when it comes to Farm Sanctuary claims and the like.

I hope to see you there.

A little of this, a little of that

Posted on by
Reply

A week ago, my mom and I were at the Iowa State Fair, admiring quilts, cross-stitch and cute goats.

We watched a grape stomp, rode the fair tram and photographed the butter cow.

We also saw a whole lot of guys in bib overalls. I think it must be an Iowa thing!

It was our first visit to the Iowa State Fair and, for the most part, I’d say it’s almost on par with the Minnesota State Fair. It lacked a foot-long hot dog stand on nearly every corner, and it doesn’t have a DNR pond filled with big fish. Yet, it did offer a Parade of Breeds in the livestock barn, which was really cool.

My favorite fair activity is to see the projects — the needle arts and the photography, especially — and I was not disappointed. There are some talented people in Iowa. (Yes, I said it in print!)

Anyway, it was a fun day away from the office. We did a lot of walking and only a little sampling (no fried foods — not even the Red Velvet funnel cake, one of the new foods featured at the Iowa State Fair this year).

If you plan a trip there next year, be sure to check out the butter cow exhibit. I looked everywhere to find out how many pounds of butter were used in the display (it features a cow, calf, boy and girl — all carved out of butter), but I couldn’t find any details until after I returned home and looked it up on the Internet.

As it turns out, Iowa uses a metal, wood and wire-frame in the shape of a cow and then smears on approximately 600 pounds of butter to make it look like a cow.

Those of us Minnesotans familiar with the Princess Kay of the Milky Way butter head display at the Minnesota State Fair might say they’re cheating.

Here in Minnesota, our display features Princess Kay (Mary Zahurones of rural Pierz was crowned Wednesday night) and the 11 Princess finalists. Each of them will get their likeness carved out of a 90-pound block of butter during the Minnesota State Fair.

If you recall, we have a pair of sisters from rural Heron Lake who were selected as Princess Kay finalists this year. Chelsey and April Johnson are the first sisters to be named finalists in the same year in the history of the Princess Kay program.

April, who was named a Princess Kay scholarship winner during Wednesday evening’s ceremony, will get her likeness carved in butter on Sunday, Sept. 4, while Chelsey’s turn is on Monday, Sept. 5, the final day of the Great Minnesota Get-Together.

If you make the trek to the State Fair on Labor Day weekend, be sure to visit the butter sculptures in the Dairy Building, located at the corner of Judson Avenue and Underwood Street.

* With Hurricane Irene set to hit North Carolina this morning, I’m a bit worried about how the Outer Banks will fare.

The Outer Banks has been at the top of my dream vacation list for more than a decade. Anyone who has watched the chick flicks, “Message in a Bottle” or “Nights in Rodanthe” surely has developed a love for the beautiful scenery offered off the North Carolina coast.

In addition to experiencing the Atlantic Coast, I want to visit the five lighthouses that grace the Outer Banks, including Cape Hatteras, the tallest lighthouse in North America.

Ideally, I’d prefer to journey to the Outer Banks in September. There are two problems with that — it’s hurricane season, which makes planning impossible; and it’s a busy time at the office.

I keep saying, maybe next year, and I’ll keep hoping that hurricanes like Irene don’t completely demolish the Carolina coast.

* Just an update from last week’s blog: St.Anthony hasn’t helped me find my lost hardanger embroidery pattern book yet. I have given up my search, finished my only other UFO (unfinished object) in my hardanger stash, and have now moved on to a new pattern from a hardcover book.

What’s in a name?

Posted on by
Reply

A cousin of mine posted on Facebook the other day that he was in the midst of lambing season down on the farm.

The instant I read the comment, I had an overwhelming urge to buy a few ewes (and maybe a dozen pregnant does — female goats, not rabbits or deer) and take up farming once again.

Oh, how I loved kidding and lambing season — spending hours and hours putzing around in the barn in the late winter and early spring. There were pregnant girls to watch, and they almost always delivered in the middle of the night. It made for extra work in the morning — especially on school days.

Makeshift pens had to be built and straw bales tossed down from the haymow, broken apart and spread out to make dry beds for mama and babies (goats and sheep often have multiples).

Most important, though, was to make sure everyone was doing OK. The kids had to get their healthy dose of colostrum and be monitored for those first few days to make sure mama was treating them right.

Every year for three years, I had a French Alpine in my herd that gave birth to triplets. The first year it was three boys, the second year three girls, and the third year, well, I can’t remember. Misty always decided it was too much work to take care of three kids, so she’d single one out to be her reject.

It sounds kind of harsh, I know, but it always meant I gained a dependent … the babe was dependent on me (and my parents) for bottle feedings and a lot of TLC. Those first two years, the bottle babies were Charlie and Tessa.

Since I milked goats by hand, I’d fill up a pop bottle (the glass kind of decades ago) and stretch a rubber nipple over the bottle’s top. If it didn’t get put on just right, the aggressive and hungry kid would pull it off, and that wasn’t good for either one of us!

I named all of the baby goats on our farm. Aside from the excitement of having baby animals, the naming process was the second best thing.

When my cousin commented that the newborn lambs on their farm were given numbered eartags, and those were their “names” (perhaps just in the short-term), I was kind of disappointed.

I suppose it is a bit different with sheep, but my goats had personality.

Misty was the mean mama, Princess was territorial, Trav and Jenny were motherly and Butterscotch would follow me anywhere around the farm.

What fun would it have been if I called them No. 4, No. 16, and No. 32?