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.

Yesterday morning started out well. The first order of the day was to get the raccoon out of the trap. I’ve learned to do that before I let the dogs out. The dogs aren’t happy about it, but it makes my life easier. Later in the morning, I was wishing that I had my camera in my pocket.

There were two Sandhill Cranes in the hayfield that wouldn’t have needed a zoom lens to capture. One was dancing, hopping and popping. The link has better photos than I could have taken, and you can listen to them, too.

In the afternoon, I started walking to the mailbox, when I noticed a snake in the driveway. Once again, I lamented that my camera was in the house - for about two seconds. No time for a Kodak moment. . .

This was not the snake in my driveway, I don’t know if they were related (they did meet the same fate).

The adrenaline was pumping. I needed to get the dogs in the house now. For reasons known only to them, all three went in when I told them to. I grabbed my shovel from the Mule.

Then I looked down. Oh no, that won’t do. . .

These lovely feet aren’t mine, the image is from Sue’s Sparkler.

I ran into the house and put my boots on my bare feet and over my jeans. Not as stylish, but safer. I contemplated my pistol, but thought better of it. The snake had moved a bit further in and was not happy to see me. I was happy that it had not gone into the tall grass a few inches away. A few minutes later I let the dogs back out.

In the early evening I went through the heifers with Lucky on the Mule. A few days ago I pointed out a heifer to Lynn. She was very heavy with calf. I put the bulls in on the 20th of May. She apparently was bred before we weaned last November. Uh-oh. . . I left the pasture and dropped Lucky back at the house and called Lynn. Who probably wished that he hadn’t answered the phone.

“Lynn - it’s Karen - the heifer- she’s starting to calve - I’m gonna need help - I had to drop the dog back at the house - I don’t know how long she’s been at it - she doesn’t seem to be trying - I’m on my way back down there - she’s got one foot out - I’ll get her in the corral - or the barn - see you there.”

I was born in NY - not only can I talk fast - I’m pretty good with run-on sentences.

I had the cattle moved when Lynn arrived. I think that the bulls had been bugging her in the pasture. We got her in the barn without any problem. She laid down and looked like she was going to give it a go. We left her alone while we went to irrigate. When we returned to the barn she was a changed heifer. No, she didn’t have her calf - she simply decided that she wanted to beat the snot out of us. After a few hairy moments we got her in the maternity pen. We got straps on the calf’s feet and Lynn started pulling. Then we started pulling. Mama pushed a little. The calf was huge - and very much alive. As soon as we got its head out it let us know that it wasn’t thrilled with any of us. The calf came easily to about its shoulders. That was it. I got the calf puller off the wall and fumbled with it. Lynn pulled, Mama pushed, I pulled, we ratcheted, the feet slipped out of the straps, we started over. Finally - it’s a girl! We brought the calf to a pen and released Mama, who still wanted to run us over. She went in with the calf, and we left them alone. Sitting on the Mule, dirty and tired, I said to Lynn, ” I hope none of the other heifers are that pregnant”.

I filled a bucket with oats and went to the barn. I gave Mama some water and hay. I saw that she hadn’t licked the calf, so I poured oats on it. A couple hours later I went back and saw that the oats were gone and the calf was now lying beside her. I gave her more water and went home to bed. When I checked in the morning the calf was nursing.

Maggie is a dog that was rescued from the pound by my friend. This pretty girl was bitten by a rattlesnake on the Rims today. She is at the vet and they’re doing what they can for her.

encountered on the road home from Powell, Wyoming.

On Labor Day, my husband, his father and brother went out to build some fence. I was planning on getting a few things done here. I brought dinner out to the hills - eight miles away. I ate with them, but left soon after. Once home, I had half a hundred things that I needed to do. I thought that it would be nice to have the place to myself. Not counting all the pets that I’m entertaining.

Well, it seemed that everyone who could afford gas decided to drop by. Half of the hunters in the county came in the driveway, which excited the dogs. Then I’d have to stop whatever the heck it was I was doing. Go out, wrangle the dogs and answer questions regarding elk, deer and birds.

Next, a pickup with Wyoming plates pulled in. The driver was looking for my husband. He never introduced himself, but said that he was interested in the cat. I told him that our cat was not for sale - but my father-in-law’s might be. Then I gave him directions to Hollenbeck Draw. While this was going on, our bulk dealer pulled in with his fuel truck. The guys looking for the cat left. I visited with Dave for a while, got the bill (you don’t want to know), and directed him to the sweet corn patch.

Okay, what was I doing? Another hunter drove in. Another hunter called on the phone. Another pickup pulled in the yard. I was close to screaming. Then I noticed that it was friends from Billings. Who didn’t come empty handed. They brought peaches, pears, tomatoes, peppers and cucumbers. We went into the kitchen and I put coffee on. Side tracked again, but at least it was enjoyable. No one else showed up while my company was there, but as soon as they left it started all over again. I was able to post some photos to flickr - since I don’t have to sit at the computer waiting while the dialup does its slow trick.

The duo from Wyoming drove in again. Not only did he not find the guys, he asked someone else for directions and went on a wild goose chase. I was more than disgusted by then. After giving him the same exact clear directions that I had given him the first time, I said, “You never told me who you were.” When he told me that they had been on the place looking at the cat, I had to hold my temper. I will never understand people that think it’s okay to drive around on someone’s place. Would he have let me drive around his place? I asked him if he had heard about the cat from John at Powell Equipment. He said, “No, I was talking to the guy who sold it to you.” I told him that the D4 is not for sale. He didn’t seem to care, and took off again. Eight miles down the road he found the Baron and told him that he was interested in the cat. The Baron laughed. I give up. . . With a table full of fruits and vegetables I needed to get busy. I put the cukes in a brine.

This morning I made pickles.

Then I brought dinner out to the fencing crew of two. After eating, Lucky and I walked around. I took some photos. I heard that familiar buzz and called Lucky to me. She had startled the snake. She came right to me. I was glad that I didn’t have the pup with me. I didn’t have a stick, a shovel or a rock handy. But I did have the Optio. This was a small rattler, under a flat rock. It was an extremely angry thing. We left it alone.

As we walked back down, I noticed a white pickup parked just off the road. Not far from where I encountered the rattlesnake two weeks ago. I didn’t see anyone - that’s odd. There was a trio fishing by the bridge, but they had their vehicle near them. My pickup was further down the road. We continued down when I spotted the oblivious couple. Hmmmm. . . interesting place for some afternoon delight.

What’s that in the road?

Oh. . . nice buttons.

I’ve been all over these hills for the last couple of days. I saw a horned toad yesterday and a couple of lizards that were too fast to photograph. But I hadn’t seen any of these. It was annoyed, coiled and hissing. I was in the pickup leaving. All I had with me was the camera and the puppy. But I couldn’t miss the opportunity. The photos aren’t very clear. I wasn’t getting any closer, sorry!

Up close and personal
Originally uploaded by RedneckDiva.

For months I’ve been joking about starting a baby copperhead snake photo blog.

This all started because of a guest post by Babs.

Later there was more encouragement from The Red Neck Diva. Soon after, The Diva was informed by two anonymous commenters that her baby snake was a black rat snake, not a copperhead.
I don’t care what kind of snake this is.
I hope that I never see anything like it.
Especially in my window.
Visit the Diva for the rest of this
snake in the window story.
But Linn, a bat on the bed is bad, too.