Manure spreader

We drove to Carthage, MS and picked up a small manure spreader for the landlord the other day. I am beside-myself-happy to have a manure spreader!   It feels like getting free fertilizer every time we use it. 

Using the spreader brought back some memorable "learning experiences" (which is what I call screw ups) for me. 

 When I worked on the farm at college, we had two or three chicken houses at the back of the property, along with several herds of beef cattle and a dairy milking 100 at times. Most people who worked on the farm did it it all- the dairy, feed mixing, fence building, chicken house duty, feeding, milking, plumbing, painting, and if you stuck around for the summers, hay making.

 Once or twice, I had the opportunity to help clean out the chicken houses and spread the rice hull chicken litter on the pastures with the manure spreader. And then there was the time we cleaned out the dairy lot and spread that...

The dairy lot was a concrete or hard dirt slab that stayed covered in manure, because cows were constantly on it. Any cow that needed to be watched closely stayed there- mostly the sick cows that were on antibiotics and couldn't be milked into the main milk tank. 

If milking cows (which I did a lot of), we would have to finish milking the main herd, and then switch the pipe to drain out onto the floor so that the sick cows' milk wouldn't go into the tank and throw the white cell count up. You can't sell milk that has a high white cell count. 

Anyway, back to the lot. It wasn't too hard to get the bobcat in there and scrape up the lot, but it was hard to find a time when there weren't many cows in there. So, it didn't get done very often. 

One of the times that it got scraped, though, I was sort of new to the farm, and I got the honor of taking it out with the manure spreader. Despite my experience with driving my dad's little Kubota tractor since I was about 2, this girl who grew up on 5 acres with only dogs and cats had never run a spreader before. Well, I got a quick tutorial and just drove that thing on out to the pasture. 

I followed instructions and turned on the chains and the beaters to get the manure pushing and flying out. That PTO driven spreader and I were making good progress, till I had to open a gate, or move a cow, or something that took a few minutes. I left the tractor running and did my errand, then got back on and turned the beaters back on. Much to my surprise, no manure was flying out. Then, I looked back and realized that about a third of the damp cow poop in that large spreader had compacted against the beaters, which is why they wouldn't move or throw manure out. The chains, however, were still pushing the black gold further into the beaters. 

After shutting it all down and trying to move the manure away from the beaters with my hands, it was obvious I would have to head back to the farm headquarters to get a shovel. I don't know what I was dreading more- telling my supervisor, Ms. Jerri, that I had screwed up, or having the other students who grew up on farms see that the "non-farm-girl-who-is-an-Ag-major-for-what-reason-we-do-not-know" had screwed up. 

I learned a lesson that day- never run the chains if you're not running the beaters

Lesson 2 came on a very windy day when we cleaned out the chicken houses, and I was quickly spreading dry chicken litter out on the pastures with that same spreader. I was driving around haphazardly on those green hills, just enjoying the sunshine and the sound of the tractor, when I made a curve and BAM- chicken litter in the mouth, eyes, nose, hair, pockets, and more. 

Lesson 2- don't spread anything on a windy day. But if you have to spread on a windy day, try not to turn into the wind. But if you have to do that, make sure to close your mouth and eyes when you turn into the wind. 

Gotta go spread some free fertilizer!

This ain't the horse world.

Mondays have become my busy day again it seems.

This one happened to be my son's birthday, and my city-girl sister was visiting from Lafayette. We got some stuff done around the house in the morning, and then went to the sale barn for around 11:00. 

This was my first sale to attend without a person beside me who I could ask questions, and once again, I was a nervous wreck! By the time they got done selling all the cows, I felt like my heart was going to pound out of my chest, and once again, I couldn't remember what the cows' that I bought numbers, weights, or anything else were.

I ended up buying three cows. Two were boring old bred black cows- one looks pretty nice, the other is just ok. But my third purchase was a gamble. She was in a herd of skinny cows that all came together. She's spotted, horned, and weighed, full grown (I assume), 431 lb. because she was so skinny, and she's small-framed.

The low weight and the ugly made her sell for pretty cheap, and I was happy to get her. 

Unfortunately, I didn't bring a trailer this time. I had drive an hour toward home, get the truck from Josh, get the trailer, nail some pieces of cattle panel to the trailer floor, get my daughter off the bus, and drive the 2 hour round trip to Baton Rouge to get the cows. Luckily, my sister-in-law offered to keep the kids and let them play with her kids while I traveled, so I didn't have to worry about that.

When I went to pick the cows up, I had to get some guidance on where to go and what to do. This one man beside the loading chute asked me what I was picking up, and then he told m "you bought that one with a white face." I began to wonder, "how do these people remember what they bought, much less what I bought?"

So, I asked him, and he told me. He was the one bidding against me for that cow.

 

On the way home, I contemplated the day. Walking on the cat walk before the sale, quietly studying the cows with 20 other people. Eating lunch in the cafe, whispering my purchase plans to my sister. Sitting alone (well, with my sister and son, but alone in the cow-sense)  in the sale barn while purchasing. Listening to that man tell me that he was bidding against me.   And then it dawned on me- This ain't the horse world.

 In the horse world, when you buy a horse, everybody is happy for you, or even thankful that you took that horse off their feed bill, sometimes even thinking in the back of their mind, "sucker". In the horse world, generally people are encouraging, yet competetive, always wiling to give advice, whether or not it's solicited.

In the cow world, everyone is competition. For land, for cows, for prices, for information. Everyone wants to make the most money they can. Everyone wants those nice heifers and cows. Everyone wants that lease land. Everyone wants the good price on hay. 

So, everyone is quieter. If they like a cow, they don't mention it. If they find a good lease, they keep it quiet. If they figure out a way to make more, they keep it quiet. Whereas the horse world is full of knowledge and advice, the cow world seems to be full of competition and sealed mouths. 

TM

Has he found his legs?

Last Wednesday at roping practice, on my first steer out of the box, I accidentally got a fast one. 

Tex and I left late out of the box, but Tex just busted himself out of the box (much harder than usual), throwing me a little back in the saddle, and caught up to that steer. I swung calmly and missed, but praised my horse. 

Maybe that lazy horse has found his speed after all...

The sale barn monster

Now that we are officially in the cattle business as of a week and two days ago, I've become a monster. A sale barn monster, who doesn't want to miss any good prices on cows. Thinking about the loca sale barn all week. Making plans to go to all the sale barns within a 200 mile radius. Watching online auctions. Nearly cursing when I miss out on good prices.

Since I can't get my photography work done and go to all of the sales, I've discovered online auction streaming at the Amite sale barn down the road. Did you know it's possible to watch the auction and edit photos at the same time? 

Rawwwr.

Today I bought a cow.

Today I bought a cow. 

I have never bought a cow before. I've never even owned a cow before. But this afternoon I stood looking in the trailer at this old, bred, black cow I'm going to call "Black Betty" and realized that we own her.

We've been talking about getting cows for a while, and finally a land lease option came open. We discussed which type of cows we'd like to buy. 

Now, the lease isn't final. The fence on the lease land isn't fixed. However, today, Josh called me and announced that he was going to the sale barn because they had some bred cows going through. Well, you know I'm not really a sit back and watch kind of gal, so of course I hopped my happy butt down to Baton Rouge to go the sale as well.

Lunch at the sale barn- whoever invented that was a genius. That place was packed, and it was probably the best southern cooking I've had since that family that cooked and sold lunches out of their country home near Magnolia, AR when I was in college.

Now, this was only my second time to ever even set foot in a sale barn. The first was when I traveled to Pennsylvania in Amish country, and my friend Bethany thought I might just enjoy sitting and watching the cows sell. Boy, did I! I'll never forget how still that little 3-4 year old Amish boy sat through the whole sale with his daddy. But in my memory, that sale went at a much slower pace than this one today. 

Today, as my son and I made our way to our seat by Josh, I felt like a big white bleach spot on a black sheet. I was one of three women in there, and let's just say I stood out. Everybody seemed to notice me in that square well-lit building, but I pretended not to notice them noticing me.

My nearly-four-year-old son was not quite as still as the Amish boy, as much as I tried to keep him that way. He kept pointing at things and waving his white paper around. I felt sure he was going to accidentally buy a cow himself. He's cute though, so everybody smiles at him. Everybody just stares at me, wondering what I'm going to do.

Josh, sitting just in front of my knee, handed me the number. I guess he understands that I'm not a sit back and watch girl after all.  I scooted over by his buddy, John, so I could ask John questions, like "What does he mean, 67?" Or, "So, how much did that one just sell for, because I couldn't understand but every other word of the auctioneer's?" Or, "What the heck am I doing here buying cows when we don't even have a lease figured out yet?" I refrained from a few of my questions. 

The bred cows start to go through, and I saw one I liked. I kicked Josh, and he elbowed me back. She sold pretty cheap to someone below us.
I saw another one and kicked my husband again. He elbowed me back again. She sold even cheaper. Then Josh and I had a short, quiet discussion to reveal that him elbowing me and me kicking him means that we both like that one.

After a couple crappy ones, here comes blackie, marked as a slick mouthed (no teeth, which means she's really old) and 7 months bred. Perfect. I bid. John starts waving his arm and pointing at me to make SURE the auctioneer (and everyone else in there I'm sure) saw me bidding.  I got outbid.  I bid again. And, then, SOLD- to ME. They sent her out and everything sort of blurred in my vision and I got butterflies in my stomach. I just bought A COW. My first of the bovine species to ever own.

Josh turn around and asked me how much she weighed, what was her number, how much did I pay total, etc. I. Do. Not. Know! Nobody told me to pay attention to all that. All I care about is I just bought a cow. A real cow.

We watched the rest of the bred cows,
the poor ones, some bulls, and some good looking young steers go through, and then it was time for me to go. I got Josh's checkbook and just strutted myself to the paying booth, pretended like I knew what I was doing, and by the time I got up there, I realized I'd forgotten my number. Luckily they had it under Josh's name. I paid $802 for that cow and brought the ticket back down to Josh so he could bring her home. Then, I put my little boy in his car seat and and headed to go get my kindergartner off the bus.

Just another day in my Louisiana Country Life.

P.S. John let us keep "Black Betty" in his pen for a little while, and I think we'll be fixing that fence and finalizing the lease on Wednesday.
P.P.S. My daughter, when she saw the cow, asked if she could milk it.