Before the Deluge

With some dry weather this afternoon, Ryan hooked up the three Fjords and took the spring-tooth harrow down to the winter loafing yard to get it ready to plant with oats.  By the time spring finally rolls around, the horses have stripped the loafing yard clean of anything even vaguely edible, and have left it bare and muddy.  The oats, in addition to holding the soil in place, give the horses something to eat when we go back to the winter schedule.
 After dragging the yard with the harrow, I walked along broadcasting seed while Ryan followed with the disc.

Let it Grow

We finally got a break in the weather last weekend that lasted long enough to do some planting.  We planted eight long rows of mangels (since they proved to be such great feed for almost all the animals), as well as a few rows of carrots - for both the animals and the people.

All this is being done in the "new" part of the garden, which is the field directly adjacent to the fenced-in "old" garden.  The additional space comes at a bit of a cost though: part of the field has a fierce quack grass infestation that will have do be dealt with (by hand) right away.  Fortunately, the plowing and harrowing have left the rhizomes laying on top of the soil where they can easily be pulled out.  Next to the "new" garden we're planting fields of oats and wheat.  With the seed drill, which has a six foot span, it takes Ryan less than a day to plant it all.  When the ground warms up a little, we'll plant the rest of the garden, and move everything that's now in the greenhouses outdoors.

Milkcow's Calf Blues

We separate Lilac and her little steer calf every night so that there is milk in the mornings.  He was a bit upset about the situation for a few nights, but has adjusted to the routine and is happy now as long as he has some grain and hay.  He also gets a little milk in the mornings since Lilac holds back some unless she knows he's getting his fair share.

Around and Around

Here's Ryan out in the rain spreading manure with Fred and Clark. We'll cut hay in this pasture sometime during July so that we have feed for the horses over the winter.  The horses will then make more manure for us to spread in the same pasture next spring.

Ryan says we're making hay. I claim it's a manure production operation. Fred and Clark call it working for their supper.

Time Changes Everything

After a long winter in the barn, we changed the horses over to their summer schedule last night.  That means days inside, and nights out in the pasture feasting on the new grass that is coming on strong.  Here are Sven and Ole who've just come into the barn and still expect their mangers to be filled with hay.  I would guess that we used about two-thirds of the hay we put up last summer, which is a pleasant surplus after running dangerously low last winter.  And now that all the animals are out of the barn for the summer, I have enough time for that second cup of coffee in the mornings...

Follow the Plow

I can probably count on one hand the number of sunny days we've had since the beginning of the year. OK...maybe I'm exaggerating a bit...but I'd only have to take off one shoe to get the right number. On those few and far-between dry days, Ryan and I have been trying to get things ready for a spring that has to arrive eventually, even if it's in July.

We started tomatoes and onions inside a couple of weeks ago, and last week I planted the Walla Walla onions and shallots in the garden.  The garlic is looking good, and is already in need of its' second weeding of the season (weeds don't care about the weather).  Next to the garden, Ryan has been preparing fields for the oats, wheat and mangels.  Fred and Clark pull the plow, and the three Fjords usually follow up with the lighter work.

The old land sales pitch was "Rain Follows the Plow."  We're hoping it's the other way around this spring.

Pig in a Pen

The cute little Berkshire weaner pigs we got last August are now full-grown eating machines.  They've had a steady diet of grain, hay, mangels and, of course, table scraps for the last six months, and now are somewhere in the 200-225 pound range.  Ryan and I have both commented on how different they are from the other pigs we've raised, both in appearance and disposition.  We've had pigs that leave huge craters in the ground and general destruction in their wake, but these Berkshires are much more sedate, if that word can be applied to pigs.  They seem content to wander around the barnyard without tearing up fences or gates, and hardly ever dig more than a couple of inches deep while rooting.  

Wild Horses

One of the oldest and purest breeds, Norwegian Fjords were first domesticated in Europe around 4,000 years ago.  They are still very similar to the last true wild horse, Przewalski's Horse, with small yet strong confirmations, and primitive markings with faint stripes.  But as far as farm animals are concerned, horses were brought under human husbandry rather late in the history of agriculture, with sheep, goats, pigs and cattle all being domesticated more than 6,000 years earlier.

Of course, given the general temperament of  horses, it is easy to understand why it took so long for humans to tame them.  The animals have inherited a strong fight-or-flight instinct, with natural selection clearly favoring the latter. As Ryan likes to note, even our big Suffolk draft horses still see themselves as being only three feet tall in a world full of saber-toothed tigers.  But despite their close ties to the past (or, perhaps, because of them), the Norwegian Fjords are some the the most gentle and helpful workhorses to be found anywhere, even if they share a certain willfulness with their ancient ancestors.  

On the left are three horses drawn by a Paleolithic artist on a rock wall in the Chauvet cave in France.  On the right are Sven, Josie and Ole getting ready to do some harrowing.  In between are almost 30,000 years.  Apparently, when it comes to horse breeding, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. 

Clear Blue Skies, Eight(teen) Inches of Rain

According to the folks at the National Weather Service, we've had eight inches of rain in the last two weeks, but it sure feels like a lot more than that.  We've been wading through standing water and mud since the last of the snow melted, and there's been some form of precipitation every day (and usually more at night).  The Stillaguamish has been under a daily Flood Watch or Flood Warning, but it hasn't spilled it's banks and run into the pastures (yet).  Which doesn't make much of a difference since the pastures all have full-fledged streams of their own simply from the rain water making its' way down to the river.

Stangely enough, the forecast calls for clear skies tomorrow...for one day...followed by more rain.  

Master of the Barn

Depending on the season, we may keep horses, cows, pigs and a goat in the barn, but the the only year-round nightly resident is the orange tom cat who (as far as I know) doesn't really have a name other than the "Barn Kitty." We got him as a kitten from a garage sale a couple of years ago along with an identical brother. Unfortunately, the brother disappeared after about six months...probably something to do with curiosity, cats and coyotes...but the Barn Kitty has become the nimble and ferocious master of his domain.
Before his arrival, we had quite a few rats in the barn, especially burrowed under the pen where we usually keep pigs. Now the barn is pretty much rodent-free, and Barn Kitty has to make due with chasing the stray bird that wanders in.  He eats and sleeps in the loft, and is waiting at the top of the stairs every morning knowing that he will get a scratch behind the ears as we come by to toss down the hay.