Chanticleer and Houdini Horse

I was up at 4 o'clock this morning catching roosters with Whit.  Time for the freezer.  Now that he's gone with them, I'm just realizing how much racket they made with their crowing.  Ah, coffee and sweet silence.  Sort of.  The rest of the bird population is noisy enough around here that they wake the toddler by 6:30 every morning if I don't shut her window, which I don't.  That's part of summer in Maine that I don't want her to forget anyway.

As I enjoyed my coffee and the early morning sun, while I finished reading Kafka's The Metamorphosis in preparation for school this fall, I happened to notice Scooby leaning way out over the not-so-electric fence to get the fresh, green grass on this side of it.  One can hardly blame him; the grass is always greener on the other side of any fence, isn't it?  I really didn't want TBear or Whit to have to fix another fence today, however, so I put my shoes back on and wandered out to give both Scooby and Pat some lovies, and gently push Scooby back to where he belonged.  After straightening out and retightening the fence, I went back in to finish my book.  (That's a really strange story, by the way.  Lots of existentialist symbolism in it.)

As I was reading, I looked up again to make sure there were three horses on the other side of the fence and noticed that the fence was completely down now, and I only counted two horses out my window.  Hmm.  This is the common theme of my early mornings here.  Straining to look out the windows without hauling myself up from my comfortable spot on the couch, I finally spotted Scooby grazing peacefully behind the tractor parked in the yard, looking as though he might actually be hiding from me.  Perhaps I give him too much credit.  Then again, seeing how he works with Whit, how he reads Whit's voice, and how he seems to know what Whit is saying, I'm pretty sure Scooby's grazing method is premeditated.  Especially since he grazes farther out into the lawn, as I notice him noticing me with my camera.  He knows that I am intentionally ignoring the fact that he's on the wrong side of the fence.  Again.  We play this game a lot, he and I.

Patrick, on the other hand, doesn't like white electrical tape.  He doesn't like white lines on the ground or on the road either.  He doesn't distinguish between white lines that zap and white lines that don't, so he just avoids all white lines, which can get pretty amusing when we're trying to drive the wagon down the road and Dig Safe has painted a white line across the road.  Scooby keeps Pat going in the right direction (forward), but Patrick will sort of leap over the white line without touching it.  Needless to say, Pat won't cross the wire tape Scooby has knocked down when he leans too far out over it to get to the verdant grass on my side.  So Pat paces and pretends he likes it better where he is, while Scooby comtemptuously grazes a few tantalizing feet away from him.

Continuing to ignore my errant horse, I know that Whit is due to drive back in any time now, and that he will put Scooby back in where he belongs.  I also know that poor Scooby is in for a shock again soon.  When Whit gets tired of standing up fence posts and reattaching the wire tape, he'll turn the fence back on again for awhile to remind Scooby why white isn't his favorite color.  It's almost annoying to think of how smug Pat will look.  Then again, I might be giving him too much credit.  They are, after all, just horses...though they do have Belgian draft-size personalities.

Oh look, here comes Whit now with a nice bag of chicken for my freezer.  Sorry, Scooby, old man, time's up.

A Bad Baler Day

Some days in the hayfield are definitely better than others. I should have known when I got the phone call halfway to the field. After I had hitched up the trailer and driven as far as the post office, Whit called to ask me to go back for the new cutting knives he'd recently ordered.

Usually we do schoolwork until about lunchtime, then I load up TBear and Sunny and we head out to the field to bale and pick up the hay. Whit goes ahead of us to rake it into wind-rows and grease all the machinery. My job is to drive the tractor with the temperamental baler, while Whit and TBear follow with the haywagon and pick up and stack the bales to bring back to the barn.

I turned around at the Y (in the road, not the "Y" as in YMCA) in Mt Vernon and went home again for the knives. The day would turn out to be a total bust. The boys and I spent a few hours hanging around the hayfield waiting for Whit to replace the knives. That job didn't take too long. Figuring out why they still weren't cutting properly took the rest of the afternoon. The worst part about a day like this is not so much the waiting as the thinking that the next adjustment is going to do the trick. Poor Whit.

Thinking it will be a quick fix, TBear (and Sunny) run the knives down to Whit just over the hill to the left here. We've already cut and baled this section. The new part to bale is on the right.

Okay, so maybe it's not such a quick fix after all.

But we're being so patient.

Whit is replacing the cutting knives on our 1959 International Harvester baler.

See all the hay 'pooped' out the back? The baler won't tie it into bales for some reason. Sigh.

The nice, new, not ours, John Deere tractor. (It belongs to our hay partner. They were hoping it would make the baling smoother with the constant PTO, instead of using my wonderful old Farmall H. It was a false hope.) Sunny loves trucks...and tractors too, apparently. : )
Hours later, we're still hanging around waiting on the baler. While I feed countless amounts of hay into the thing, Whit makes adjustments and fiddles with it, all to no avail this day. Meanwhile, TBear teaches Sunny how to cut things using a pair of wire cutters on some twine. Who needs preschool?! : )
The rest of this story is that we bagged baling this day, and went home around 4:30 or 5pm. The next morning Whit returned with calipers and started at page one, measuring and making every single adjustment to the manual's specification. He also wound up putting the old knives back on. He's investigating whether the new ones were the right size, or whatever, for it because they just plain wouldn't work. We were back in business by 2pm or so.

This field gives me poison ivy. Every time we've cut and baled a section, I get fresh patches of it on my forearms from wrist to elbow. I'm contemplating buying stock in Calagel.

Working the Horses

The horses needed their hooves trimmed again so Whit harnessed up Scooby and had him drag the stock into the barn from out back. The project went better than expected. Everyone was cooperative standing there, so it didn't take long. Since Patrick was the last one into the stock, he got to be harnessed to pull it back out of the barn. However, before he hooks any of the horses up to pull, Whit usually walks them a bit just to remind them of what they're supposed to be doing. Pat is pretty funny. No matter what he's doing or pulling, he prances. I really think he likes the entertainment and challenge of pulling something.

Here he is pulling the stock back out of the barn.

Last year, when the weather was better, we had taken the horses to the fields where we're cutting hay so they could be harnessed to help. Unfortunately, we weren't able to do that this summer, so the boys are a tad bit bored. They haven't been worked enough lately and it shows. Pat didn't follow directions pulling the stock out as well as Whit wanted, so he got to do a little extra work this day.

Whit hooked Pat up to the sled and had him drag it around their field in figure 8's. The next morning, bright and early, they were at it again, and Whit had helped TBear harness Magnum. TBear has been working with Magnum in the mornings too, while Whit deals with Pat and Scooby.

We've decided that Magnum really can't be ridden, but he seems to like walking around the field. I'm sure he's been bored this summer too.

TBear and Magnum on their way back to the barn from the horses' field.

TBear and Magnum are doing a good job learning to work together. TBear needs the practice, and Magnum is pretty patient.

Fresh Air Friend

Our friend, Anthony, arrived from New York on July 8th this year for a two-week visit sponsored by the Fresh Air Fund. I was surprised, when we added it up this year, that this was Anthony's seventh summer visiting us! This is also the year that Anthony has grown taller than I am, and his feet are bigger too. In fact, he's also going into high school this year. So many changes in a year! Where does the time fly?!
July, unfortunately for Anthony, is usually the height of our haying season. July and August are when we finally have enough dry, sunny weather to get the hay stored in the barn for the coming winter. Anthony is a real trooper and pitches in to help with everyone else around here. He tells me he enjoys the job. All I know is that he keeps coming back, so maybe he really does. :)

This has not been an optimal summer for haying, however. In fact, it's been downright depressing. We had planned to start haying in June and get possibly three cuttings in this summer. Ah, yeah...the best laid plans of mice and men. Instead, June was a total washout... we had almost three solid weeks of rain. July was only marginally better. The rain let up a little, but not enough to make any real progress. So far, we have only been able to cut enough grass for about 250-300 bales at a whack because that's all we can dry, bale and pickup by the time afternoon showers roll through every few days. I think we've got about 500 bales in our barn and 1000 in our hay partner's barn. At that rate, it's going to take a long time to get the 2000 bales we need for the winter in our barn, never mind what we usually sell as extra. Farmers around here are exceedingly concerned.

Pictured here is a typical afternoon. See how dark it is? We got to the field around lunchtime to start baling and picking up. It hadn't started raining yet, but it was very cloudy and threatening. The weather prediction had been for sunshine a day longer, but this is New England. It was too late for us to change plans once the hay was cut and lying in the field. We have to do our best to get it baled and picked up as quickly as possible. The issue is if it doesn't dry enough before we start baling, it just molds and rots. It's junk after that.

I drove around baling the hay, while the guys and my sister followed close behind picking up bales as fast as they could. (My sister Julie's out front, Whit's stacking, and TBear's driving the tractor. )
It started to drizzle by 2pm, and then it just opened up and flat out rained. The boys were literally running around the field trying to get the hay loaded. There was no hope that day for the grass. I stopped baling and let it all lay. We packed it up and went home.

Our slightly soggy hay crew, minus my sister and Whit. ; )

This particular story actually had a happy ending though. The next day turned out to be unexpectedly beautiful, sunny, and hot. (Fortunately that New England thing was working for us this time. :) It was perfect drying weather. We salvaged that field of hay by tedding it again and letting it dry out completely before we baled it.

Thanks to the frequent showers, it wasn't all work while Anthony was here. Usually I get lots of pictures, but I've sort of fallen down on the photo thing this summer. I did take the boys down to the town landing for some fishing and swimming. We spent another afternoon at a friend's house on another pond where the boys were able to swim some more and do some kayaking.

Here, Whit and the boys went sailing. (See? I'm having photo issues... I didn't get there until they'd come back and had already picked up the mooring and were dropping the sails.)
We hope Anthony enjoyed being here again this summer as much as we enjoyed having him. He's a great kid, and we look forward to doing it all again next year!

Grammy and Grampy's Visit

I have been seriously remiss in updating the blog. We've had company and other chores to accomplish, but it seems that once I get a little behind, I seem to get really behind. Here's an attempt to give an update on what's been going on for the past month.

Just before the fourth of July Whit's parents arrived for a week-long visit. The weather mostly cooperated. (The fireworks were rained out here the first night, but it was clear the next night.) His parents have been traveling around the country in their lovely Newmar RV, which is rather large and draws a lot of attention when they arrive. We get comments from the neighbors about it for weeks afterward. Nothing unkind, mind you, just "hey, saw the bus in your driveway..." :)

Here, TBear and Sunny watched, fascinated, as Grampa maneuvered the RV into the graveled parking space Whit created for them next to our vehicles. With the almost three weeks of steady rain we had in June, he needed to create some sort of a pad to make it easier not only to level their RV, but so they didn't sink up to their axles in mud!

It fits in the spot he created nicely.

Hugs all around. We were very happy to see them! They don't like to come up during our winter and we have a hard time getting away from the farm, so we're always happy when they come for a visit once a year in the summer. Gram noted that TBear is as tall as she is now. : )

The parking excitement over, Sunny happily goes back to playing in the mud with Jagger's chuck-it and ball. Boy did we have a lot of mud this year. I'm pretty sure we're setting records for rainfall this summer.
Nutmeg came home for a visit too while Grammy and Grampy were here. (She's been traveling around New England for her job this summer.) TBear was ecstatic to get his first new computer for school from his grandparents for his birthday this year. Thanks to the foul weather, Meghan had lots of time to help TBear get it set up, and then they played Civilization against each other.
Grampa is very knowledgeable about engine mechanics, and TBear has been anxious to learn more. The engine of our antique Farmall Cub tractor has been in need of an overhaul for awhile now, so TBear and Grampa disassembled the engine while he was here. As soon as Whit gets the cylinders rebored and finds new pistons for it, he and TBear will put the Cub back together again. Stay tuned for more about that later.

Happy Birthday, TBear!

TBear turned 12 years old today, a pre-teen for only one more year. It's hard to believe time has flown by so fast. In fact, I spent some time today going back through all my pictures and reminiscing about the last 12 years. I thought I might share some of them.

His twelfth year was a good year for a new set of wheels. If his older sister's frugality is any indication, hopefully this set will take him through college. : )

Going backwards in time, this was TBear's 11th summer. He was big into RC planes. He amused himself with them while we were baling hay until it was time to pick it all up. He still enjoys the planes.

The year he was 10, the two of us went to the New England Suzuki Institute strings camp in Standish, ME. We stayed the week in a campground on a site that was next to a catch and release pond. How cool was that?! He got a lot of fishing in around the music.
For his 9th birthday, TBear's grandmother gave him a trebuchet to assemble and test. Those babies can toss some bean bags!

The year TBear turned 8 yrs old, we bought our farm in Maine, and discovered we had bats roosting under the metal roof of our house and in the attic. We have since enticed them to a bat house on the side of the barn, and sealed up the entrance under the roof. We decided to do a unit study to learn more about them that year. They are very cool creatures, and we love to see them arrive each spring since they like the black flies more than we do.

And of course, 7 was the age of the two missing front teeth. : )
When TBear was 6 years old, I was doing Konos' Ancient History with his big sister, Riss. TBear had fun creating Spartan garb. (He's still making those wooden swords. : )

This lamb was given to TBear when he was 5 years old. The lamb weighed only two pounds at birth, and its mother rejected it, so the young lady who owned it and was in high school, gave it to TBear to bottle feed and save. Dimi is alive and well... still!

He went through a very cute cowboy phase when he was 4 years old.

This picture is proof that this little boy was putting together K'nex models at the age of three; a gift he shares with his sister Nutmeg. It sure surprised me. He could follow the picture directions to assemble them. We still have all those K'nex too. I love toys that last.

TBear had an ice cream cake when he turned two years old. It's still hard for me to believe this was taken ten years ago.

I didn't have any digital pics of TBear when he was one; at least, none that I could quickly find. I guess two was the year we went digital. So here ends the tour back in time.

My baby is now twelve years old...imagine that.