Karbon Kounty Moos

It was a last minute decision. Let’s go somewhere. Let’s do something. I have half a hundred things that I should be doing, but. . . they will still be there later. No one else is going to do them. N suggested a ride. Good idea - as long as we didn’t head to Red Lodge or the Beartooth Pass. Not on Sunday, at the beginning of the tourist season. The thought of driving behind motor homes up the switchbacks, and then on to Cooke City wasn’t appealing. We headed out on the gravel. Not far from home we found these cows in search of shade.

I drove through Elk Basin and cut across to Frannie, Wyoming. A bit further south we stopped for something to eat. Bad move. We walked in the cafe and looked at the salad bar. Hmmmmm. The mushrooms were rotting. I don’t like mold with my fungus. The lone waitress directed us to a booth. It smelled like bleach. The table was wet. So was the seat. The waitress moved us to a dry booth, and tossed the menus on the table. I said, “I hope that the kitchen is cleaner than the menus”, as the waitress brought N’s coffee to the table. N opened a half and half container and poured it in her cup. It curdled. We walked out.

Crossing back to the car, I suggested knocking on someone’s door and begging for a meal. A few people were coming out of the LDS Church. We asked a woman if she had any ideas on a place in Lovell to eat. Lovell has never been known for its fine dining. The lady told us where not to eat. I continued south. We stopped at Minchow’s Food Court. The teens working there were very entertaining.

I was still eating my ice cream cone when I noticed the Buelingos from the previous post. The next stop was one of the overlooks in the Bighorn Canyon. There are incredible views from every direction. I was amazed by the speed (and the sound) of the swallows that buzzed over my head.

Wait until I tell you about the horses.

Times change. Things change. Life happens. Hopefully, we grow.

I am very much alive. I have not been here - on the blog. But I have been here, in Carbon County, Montana with Ty, Lucky, Sugar, Rocky and Tuffy. I haven’t taken the time to post. I haven’t found the time to sit here at the keyboard. I rarely keep up with my telephone correspondence. Ask my friends. Before I married Allan I worked at a desk, with a telephone and a computer. That company did not have internet service then. We took orders over the phone and by mail order. Ahhh, but they were still making their product in the US at that time, too. Sometimes I wish that I had the luxury of constantly being on-line. Then I come back to reality.

I still field the question at least once a week, “You don’t work outside the home?”

Come on in, you’ll see what I get done inside the home. Not much.

This grey morning was spent irrigating pasture. I hid Sugar’s frisbee so I could get some water set. She’s the only one I spoke with this morning. Sugar doesn’t answer me, really. I called her off the road a time or two. She listened. I implored her to quit eating cow pies. Sugar paid me no mind. I always say that it was a good thing I didn’t have children. I can’t even get the dogs to listen to me.

I have had time to think. We always do. What we do with all that thinking is what matters. Way back when - in August of 2004 - I started writing here. I was introduced to blogging shortly before that. Ed Kemmick’s blog, City Lights was the lively place I first encountered. Ed recently called it quits - at least for a while. Hopefully, it won’t be too long a while. I miss that place already. I began writing about day to day happenings here on the farm, or “in the neighborhood.” I’d post photographs, all scanned then. Some were mine, and some were old postcards that I’d collected. After I started taking digital photos, I began posting them to flickr, which quickly became a new addiction. Flickr can be a very real community. I should say communities. Karbon Kounty Moos and Flickr accurately depict much of my life. At least the parts that I chose to share.

I think that everyone who has blogged, or blog commented - and those who post to flickr have had these moments. You are in the middle of something, exciting or mundane - and you think, “I have to blog about this”. Or - “I have to shoot this and post it on flickr”. Remember “Kodak moments?” These are more intense. I never considered myself a journalist, I’m just a person who likes to read and write. And share. I never take myself serious. I was chided on flickr for my “snapshots”. I’m someone who enjoys taking photos, no delusions of grandeur here. I have been accused of being naive and uninterested about politics. Not true. I am very interested in politics. I also collect condom tins, and I know that this is the first time anyone has read that here. There are more than enough political bloggers out there. I am not interested in becoming yet another one. I don’t think there are any condom tin collector bloggers. I mean, other than me.

I have met some wonderful people through blogging and flickr. You know who you are. I met some crazies, too. You know who you are. I would not have met all these people without sitting at the keyboard. I am very thankful for that. I treated my blog visitors as if they were sitting in my kitchen. Some of them actually did. I discovered friends in the most incredible places. All because of my lousy hunt and peck skills. I like to talk, but I do know how to listen. I have a tendency to interrupt that I’ve been trying to break for forty something years. There is no 12 step program for it. I simply ask my friends to point it out to me, and if all else fails, tell me to “shut up.”

My blog readers have been great. You have seen me through the last four years of my life. And what a ride it’s been.

Postcards, fairy tales, and hangovers. Millionaire farmers, harvests and cemeteries. Recipes, bucket calves, and too many dog stories. Radio shows, memes and missing links. Ciphers, my hejira, and my mother’s death. Job descriptions, parts runs and strange encounters. Halfhearted HNT attempts, the Sugar Dog and Rascal Fairs. Gated pipe lessons, sugarbeets and corn. Beer drinking in parking lots, barley and Pioneer Days. Mosaics, bumper crops of eggplant and missing waffle irons. Getting kicked by cows. Allan getting sick. Allan finally diagnosed properly. Being reminded that there are people who take pleasure in other’s misfortunes. Trying not to turn this into a medical blog. Modems, calving and hospice. Losing Allan. Photographs and memories. My wonderings about black clouds and helicopters. Learning to irrigate and run the loader. Fences, rattlesnakes and raccoons. Flowers, cattle, and friends. Songs, silliness, and tractors. Feeder trucks, the romance of ranching, and switching to WordPress. On the radio - but on the cutting room floor, since I was not talking about politics - as usual. Trying my best to maintain these little places. Karbon Kounty Moos and my farm, by myself. It takes a lot of energy and a lot of time. I continued to post photos, work my butt off and laugh at myself.

Everyone gets fed here before me. Too much coffee in the morning isn’t a good idea when you’re wearing coveralls and out in the open. Once I know that everyone else is okay, then I can take care of my needs. Which involves copious amounts of coffee. I learned to do many things by myself these last two years. I have always believed that there’s always more to learn, so that’s been fine with me. I’ve learned a lot about myself and other people. Brucellosis has taught me more. I am tired of repeating myself. I have written (and linked) extensively on my experience, it’s all here. Click on brucellosis at the bottom of this post - you can find all my postings.

Last night when I heard one of the “B” words (the other one is “beets”) on TV, I knew what I had to do. It was time. I haven’t posted since April. Mostly light hearted posts with photos. Yes, I write about my bad luck. It’s excellent blog fodder. Much of it is unbelievable. Especially since it’s happening to me. Why has it been so quiet here? Because it hasn’t been. I may write about my misfortunes, but I don’t think that I am the “whining government farmer” that I’ve been accused of. I really don’t think that’s ever going to happen.

I sold last year’s calves a little earlier this spring than usual. It was probably a good decision. The market was so-so, but I was exhausted and tired of feeding at the lot and in the pasture. Once I did that I could devote myself to the cows and the new babies. Calving went pretty well. My shoulders, back and arms were killing me, but I kept pushing. There was sugarbeet drama, equipment to sell and property to buy. There were friends who needed me, and friends that I needed. There are people who enjoy being thorns in one’s side. I ended up with three bucket calves and hands that wouldn’t work. I was being beat up by baby bovines and my feet hurt so bad I considered the emergency room.

Yes, I had found the time to diagnose on-line. RA. Yes, I have seen a doctor and a rheumatologist. I have not seen a black helicopter in a while, though.

The last few weeks have been hectic. Everything that needs to get done is getting done. Maybe not as quick as it should, but it is getting done. I found happy homes for the bucket calves. My cows are doing well. I even kept some heifers back. I am on medication and keeping my fingers crossed.

What do I know? I know what I’ve read. I know what I’ve heard. But simply because you read or hear something does not make it so.

A bear passed through here last week. I didn’t see it, or hear it, but I know that it was here. No family of raccoons could have made that big a mess. The Raccoon Family Robinson did make a mess before that and has almost every day since, though. I haven’t fixed my (wince) traps.

I know that we had a wolverine here a few years ago for over a month. Research that. Wolverines do not live here, everyone knows that. This is not a pine forest. Well, I was not the only one who saw our wolverine several times in broad daylight.

I know who I am. I know who I’ve been. I know that they are the same person, even through the changes.

Times change. Things change. Life happens. Hopefully, we grow.

I know what I like. I know what I don’t like. I know better than to try to change people or their minds. I have changed. I have often changed my own mind. It is always something that I chose to do. I know who I love. I know that I am loved. I know that my life is good.

Times change. Things change. Life happens. Hopefully we continue to grow.

This was taken yesterday. Twelve above, still and snowing. Now it’s clear, windy (of course), and trying to get above freezing. One can hope.

I haven’t been keeping up with this place, or my flickr photos. I had a cold that was starting to feel like the plague. But I can’t take a break from the day to day operations of feeding my crew. I carry on. Runny nose, aching back, vertigo, shot shoulders, bum knee and whatever else happens to be going on is ignored for the time being. Once I’m finished outside, I can come in and crash for a while.

Betty Western has tagged me for a meme. And it is a Me Me. I haven’t done one in ages, so I think that it’s time. Please do visit Betty’s place.

Here are the rules. 1. Link to your tagger and post these rules. 2. Share 7 facts about yourself: some random, some weird. 3. Tag 3 people at the end of your post and list their names (linking to them). 4. Let them know they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment at their blogs.

Seven facts about moos, I’m not sure if they’re random or weird or both:

1. I usually have a green thumb outside, but I can’t keep houseplants alive. Maybe it has something to do with the dust bison I raise.

2. I do not consider myself an authority at anything. I know a little bit about a lot of things. I know a lot about a few things. I always want to learn more.

3. I am second generation American. My parents were born in New York, as was I. My paternal grandfather was born in Kalavryta, which makes it extra fortunate that he came to the United States. My paternal grandmother was also an immigrant from Greece. My maternal grandfather was from Galway, Ireland. My maternal grandmother was born in Liverpool, England to Irish parents. Both of my grandfathers died when I was a child, but I do remember them. Both of my grandmothers died long before I was born.

4. I ended up in Williston, North Dakota before I made it to Montana. I like North Dakota. Honestly, I like all of the places that I’ve been. There are four states in the lower 48 that I have never been to. Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and Kentucky. I hope to see them.

5. My favorite color changes all the time. For the last year or so it has been brown.

6. “Karen, why’d you do that?” My Queens accent comes out when I’m tired or angry. It’s not Fran Drescher, but my vocabulary shamefully will deteriorate to Goodfellas.

7. I love to cook - and eat.

I’m going to tag three bloggers. All are Montana ladies that I have met in real life. I hope that they can find the time for the meme.

Come on, Pandora.

Your turn, Laurie.

Martha - how about a little meme about you you?

There is so much good in the worst of us,
And so much bad in the best of us,
That it hardly behooves any of us
To talk about the rest of us.
Edward Wallis Hoch, Marion (Kansas) Record
(1849 - 1925)

I arrived early to find out where I needed to be. I walked up the stairs and into the Governor’s office. I explained who I was and why I was there. The first gentleman I spoke with didn’t know what I was talking about. He made a phone call, and a second gentleman came out. That man asked me where Representative Malcolm was. I told him that I didn’t know, and I sat down to wait. Needing to pace, I returned to the hall. I found Craig and we went back to the waiting room. Sandy, Jim and the Malcolms were right behind us. Jennifer McKee introduced herself. Then we were led to a meeting room and introduced to the Governor. And yes, I did pet Jag.

During a lull in the meeting, I explained why I was there. I said that they could put away the calculators. I wasn’t discussing figures.

On the day before Thanksgiving, 2005 my husband, Allan was told that he probably had pancreatic cancer. He had been sick for months before being properly diagnosed. The Monday after Thanksgiving it was confirmed. Circumstances forced us to sell most of our cattle in February 2006. We still had our calves. Allan wanted to sell them at the NILE sale as he had always done. We chose to keep our heifers and I sold the steers a few days after Allan’s funeral. Later that spring I bought a few registered Black Angus low birth weight bulls. Two half brothers were specifically purchased for the heifers. I planned to breed and feed the heifers, and sell them the following year. I kept these girls at home and babied them along. Sandy called in January, 2007 expressing an interest in running the heifers on shares. It was a good idea then - and it would still be a good idea. This was not a major money making proposition for any of us. I was sad when we loaded up the heifers, but happy that I didn’t have to sell them. I knew that they were going to a good place. No one could foresee what happened in May.

There was (and still is) an information/disinformation overload. The media was treated to more information than the ranchers concerned. At the beginning of this fiasco, few knew that I was involved. This unfortunate position led to some interesting conversations. I was treated to gems of gossip, wild speculation and ridiculous rumors. I permitted people to flap their lips.

With all the players in this script since May, one would think that someone from one of the agencies involved would have been in touch with me. After reading an article in the Billings Gazette, I called APHIS to test my cows at home. Is this considered a rapid response? I was losing my herd because of their policy, and I had to contact them?

I understood on May 18th that I was losing my heifer pairs. I read the law. I am not the only person who questions the scientific basis of that law. If livestock considered exposed to brucellosis must be slaughtered, so be it. But wildlife considered exposed to brucellosis are not slaughtered. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist or an epidemiologist to see that this does not make sense.

What a difference between the response to the wildfires of this summer and this disaster. Neighbors traditionally rush to help one another. You always hear about the overwhelming response from the community. Elected officials manage to take the time from their busy schedules to visit the fire lines. They’re right in front of the cameras and microphones, promising aid, making disaster declarations.

Was this not a fire to be extinguished? It seems that it was put out on our backs. This should not have been about politics.

We should not have been caught in a pissing match between acronyms. A friend called it a turf war. I saw battle lines being drawn. People had their own agenda, and it was ugly.

The governor assured me that several universities are working on better vaccines. That is good, but it is not enough.

We need to make an effort to work together toward the eradication of this disease. We need communication between all parties involved and interested. All the acronyms, wildlife advocates, livestock owners, veterinarians, and people who have been through the aftermath of this disease in the past. Some of those scarred from brucellosis have responded to previous entries here. We need people who are willing to sit down and speak rationally.

I was in Helena for the first time in over twenty years. Unfortunately, it was for business. You’ll hear about that in a bit. I enjoyed the drive, but I enjoy driving. The winds near Livingston brought home a point that a friend recently made. He said that my car was as aerodynamic as a brick. I made it safe and sound.

I had a wonderful supper with the Sprout clan. Thanks! I twisted Craig’s arm (not too much) to attend the meeting with Governor Schweitzer the following day.

Yes, I’ll tell you about that later. . .

After the meeting, I thought that I’d wander around downtown. I found an antique store, but my cell phone kept ringing, and I’d walk outside to talk. I suppose that was a good thing.

Mike called to say that he was just getting into town. He, too, had business in the Capitol. We met for lunch, then continued on our not so merry ways.

That evening I caught up with Martha. I met Martha through our blogs and flickr pages. She is an incredible artist. Martha works in different mediums, with a wide range of subjects. Because we’d never met in real life - we got together at McDonald’s. Neither of us exhibited overt Lizzie Borden tendencies, and I suppose that we look relatively safe. In any case, we were comfortable enough with each other to go next door for a Mexican dinner. Thank You! We agreed that we need to get together again. How about a blogger bash somewhere in the middle? Maureen and I were unable to connect, so maybe next time. . .

The next morning I drove home - mostly in the rain. I stopped again at Three Forks for their great coffee and sandwiches.

A few miles outside of Red Lodge, I visited friends. The toaster started misbehaving when I left their house.

It is now in the shop for the same issue. Third time’s a charm, right?

Bye girls. . .

Goodbye to my beautiful girls and their healthy calves. Goodbye to years of selective breeding. Goodbye to another thing that Allan and I struggled to build.

They’re calling this herd tainted. A misleading headline. The Morgans have six cows considered positive. Three of those are home raised, bangs vaccinated cows with healthy calves. The other three are Corriente cows that weren’t vaccinated before they purchased them. Those longhorns also have healthy calves on them. These six have been segregated since the test results.

We’ve been called “welfare ranchers”. The USDA budgeted 22% for Farm and Commodity programs in 2003 - 2006. 11% went to Conservation and Forestry. 6% was for Research, Inspection and Administration. 2% went to the Rural Development Program. 3% was for International Programs. The Domestic Food Assistance Programs took 56%.

We’ve been told that we should be happy, that the government is giving us money for our diseased animals. These cows are no more diseased than the brucellosis exposed bison which are permitted to live and return to Yellowstone Park. These cows are our private property that the government is taking.

These cattle are considered “exposed” to brucellosis. Federal law requires brucellosis exposed livestock to be slaughtered. Federal law does not require “exposed” wildlife to be slaughtered. How is this a scientific solution to the eradication of brucellosis? People were crying over moms and babies. That slaughter did not happen. Ranchers have been vilified as rabid, evil, wildlife haters. Maybe there are some extremist ranchers, but most ranchers enjoy all animals. I don’t appreciate having hundreds of deer in my haystacks, especially knowing that they are relatively recent arrivals to this part of the Clark’s Fork Valley. It makes me wonder about the free all you can eat wildlife buffet being served here.

How did all of this happen? Even with CSI Montana, it is doubtful the actual source will be found.

The original “hot cow” would have been on the Emigrant ranch at the time she contracted the brucella abortus organism. This was not from a bovine source, but another ungulate - elk. How did the elk get this? Probably from the bison.

I understand the history of brucellosis. I am well aware that this is a cattle disease, transmitted from livestock to wildlife. History repeats and reverses itself. Brucellosis is now transmitted from the bison to other wildlife. Every recent case of brucellosis in cattle in the Yellowstone area has had a common denominator - elk.

The writing was on the wall from Day One. We knew that our cattle were going to slaughter. If there was a procedure in place, it should have been followed. We should have been kept abreast of what was happening. I know that Montana has not gone through this in years. I understand that the focus was shifted from our livelihood to the icon of Yellowstone National Park.

We were left in the dark. We apparently were not on a “need to know” basis. My heifers were headed for slaughter. I was getting more information from the Billings Gazette than the agencies involved. I had to call the Feds, not the other way around. I took in the speculation and rumors. I read utter nonsense. We heard from folks crying about “what we were doing to the industry”. My father-in-law was yelled at by a “neighbor” complaining about what I was doing. He didn’t call me. The Industry didn’t come to anyone’s rescue. We were in the middle of political posturing. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I too, requested a sit down with the Executive Branch.

The slaughter of Jim and Sandy’s herd is not going to eradicate brucellosis. This is a political solution, not a scientific solution. A buffer zone around YNP is not going to solve the problem either. It would create new problems. Political problems, reaching far beyond the borders of the United States, not simply the “buffer zone”.

What is the solution? I don’t know, but I would like to see all parties involved putting their heads together to work toward trying to eradicate this disease. We need to protect and respect all of our resources. Farmers and ranchers make up a very small part of the United States population. Most of us would not be doing this if we didn’t love it. I know that these are beef cattle. I may not be a third generation Montanan like my late husband, but I understand that I am producing food. These cows were not for sale now. My heifers should have produced nine or ten more calves. Only then should they have been considered beef headed for slaughter. These calves should not be going to slaughter at this young age. They needed to continue getting their mother’s milk for quite some time. It isn’t going to happen.

Personally, I’d like to thank everyone who has been supportive the last few weeks. Your calls, messages, comments and emails have helped. Many of you didn’t understand what was going on. Don’t feel bad, neither did we. We’re all getting an education.

There are scarier things than disease:
Ignorance and arrogance
Taxes and capital gains

Stay tuned.

That’s as close as I get. No, not to her, but to having anything resembling good luck. After a morning full of delays - waiting for someone, I took off for Billings with the stock trailer yesterday. I had three old cows and three huge steers of my father-in-law’s to bring down to the yards. Sugar came along for the ride, which was relatively uneventful - on the way down. After I unloaded the cattle I discovered that I couldn’t close the trailer door. Hmmmm. . . one the helpful employees of Billings Live took the panel off and we put it in the trailer. I closed the middle gate behind it, wondering why I’d changed into clean boots and Levi’s. Where would I be without that ubitquitous orange twine?

It has saved me on several occasions. I always pick it up, being sure to have some in every vehicle. Along with gloves, sunglasses, tarp straps, toilet paper, blankets, dog hair, horse treats, knives and miscellaneous tools. When I drove through Silesia, an oncoming vehicle kicked up a stone that cracked my windshield. Between Edgar and Fromberg, the mailman pulled out right in front of me. Thank goodness the trailer was empty (not counting manure), because if I still had my fat load on it, I would not have been able to brake like I was forced to. Note to mailman: that little flashing light on the top of your car does not give you the right to pull out in front of everyone. Try looking first. At Fromberg, I stopped for a calming cup of coffee. It was either that or wait for the mailman.

Congress will soon be deciding how much funding the federal government will provide for cancer research. While the leaders of the House and Senate have agreed to provide a $7 billion increase for health and other programs, including NIH and NCI, their proposals fall far short of that goal. In fact, the funding levels that they are currently considering would result in a cut for cancer research. There is still far too much that needs to be done within the field of pancreatic cancer research to accept a cut in funding. We need early detection tools, treatments, and a cure. Make sure your Senators and Representative know that you think pancreatic cancer research is a funding priority and should be one of their priorities too.

You can do that by clicking here. It’s painless, and only takes a minute.

A year ago we were trying to get into the sugar beet fields. Like now, it was too wet. This year there are beets in the valley, but none in our fields. I never liked sugar beets, they took too much time, energy and expense.

I wish that we could be out in this beet field again.

Allan’s Page

I found a couple more photos. Here’s Gina, I don’t know if she was taking my picture as I was taking hers.

Here she is without the camera in her face.

Much better.

I took this photograph last week from a friend’s deck. If you click on the photo you can view it larger. It shows a few fields, the Pryors to the east and a little bit of lilacs. We’ve had some cool temperatures the last few days. It tried to snow yesterday, and it looks like it may rain today. But as the farmers always say, “we need the moisture”.

I have been busier than ever. I have found the time to take some photos and post them to flickr.