Karbon Kounty Moos

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.

I’ve been tagged by the Yolo Cowboy. Since it is almost Christmas, I’d better get moving on this. The month of December has been a technical/mechanical disaster. Every piece of equipment has had issues. The 4455 was worked on, but then had a brake pawl failure. I had a major disconcerting moment while standing on the step with the diesel hose. The parked tractor was rolling forward. I considered tossing the nozzle and jumping, but I rode it out. Then my iMac died. Did you know that Apple has a 90 day guarantee? Neither did I and I bought it in June. The Dell laptop was fine, but then my modem went wacko. I had the feeder truck worked on. It’s like a new old truck now. I came close to driving a front tire off the rim on the 4455. Two new front tires on that baby now. My cows were tested by the state again. Everyone is AOK. I’ve been wrestling with the self waterers. Buckets of hot water and hammers in the morning. The washing machine acts up when it’s cold. It has been frigid. The dryer sounds like it has a bearing out - or maybe it is planning on blowing up. No laundry is getting done here. I probably wouldn’t have the time anyhow.

Oh, before I forget, here goes:

1. Wrapping or gift bags?

Either works.

2. Real or artificial tree?

Real, please. I didn’t have one last year. The year before Jenny brought a neat little artificial tree to the hospital for us. This year it was time again.
3. When do you put up the tree?

Right after cutting it down. No specific day.

4. When do you take the tree down?

Before Valentine’s Day.

5. Do you like eggnog?

I prefer the stuff you put in it. But I do love nutmeg.

6. Favorite gift received as a child?

Can’t remember.
7. Do you have a nativity scene?

No.
8. Worst Christmas gift you ever received?

A cheese grater and a hand can opener. But they were nicely wrapped.

9. Mail or e-mail Christmas cards?

Sorry folks, neither this year - or the last couple of years.

10. Favorite Christmas movie?

Probably A Christmas Story.

11. When do you start shopping for Christmas?

Ha!

12. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?

Food. Okay, shrimp scampi - my tradition.

13. Clear lights or colored on the tree?

Clear, but I’d love to find some of those old fashioned bubble lights.

14. Favorite Christmas song?

Coming on Christmas - by Joni Mitchell

Rules are…:

1. Link to the person that tagged you, and post the rules on your blog.
2. Share Christmas facts about yourself.
3. Tag random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
4. Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

Well, I know that it’s late, but I’ll tag:

Aimee
Richmond

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?

This really bothered me at breakfast.

Apostrophes (and missing ones) apparently catch David’s eye as well.

The Apostrophe Protection Society

I thought it was time to clean up the place a bit. I know, I should be cleaning the house, but. . . give me some time and they’ll get to the blogroll.

David made the move to my new domain relatively painless. There have been a few places that I’ve visited and would like to share.

Here’s Joe in Bozeman, who claims to be a freelance slacker:
The Dude Abides

Martha comments here - and has some beautiful examples of her work at:
Martha’s Art

Okay, this is written by a familiar keyboarder:
No Mandatory Animal ID

Another Montana Valley Girl:
Portrait of the Artist as a Young Mom

Troutburst blogging at:
Ravings of an Insane Fisherman

Shelly’s place:
Noise With Dirt On It

Two goodies:

Fish Creek House and Making Montana Memories

This was sent to me by a lady who went to the same high school as I did - they are so cute and so pricey:
Tumbleweed Tiny House Company

A friend told me about this place so I had to check it out:
Winchester Mystery House

To SB
and to Sam’s Darling Wife
for raising my feline awareness
with this site.

While researching some of Montana’s history I happened upon this site.

I thought that it was worth sharing. Enjoy!

Ghost Towns

Be sure to visit

Dogster

And it’s a strange one at that.