From the Pastures: Get your goat

Hello from Graze-N-Grow. I think we all owe a debt of gratitude to the person who decided to make February the shortest month. Except for a rodent from Pennsylvania and a Roman saint, the month has very few redeeming qualities in the northern latitudes. My apologies to those who happened to be born in February. Since the snow keeps accumulating without melting, at least it’s now easier walking than it was on the ice underneath. That is, after the paths are plowed.

Even though we still have some grazeable residual in one pasture, the ewes have been on a hay-only diet. I take big squares out to the field in my pickup for the pregnant ewes and my fingers are freezing before the job is done, so I’ve started carrying a pop bottle of hot water in my coat pocket to grab now and then. Too bad I can’t do the same for my toes. Anticipating spring keeps me going. The ewes with lambs are at the home place and a few are left to drop, but they seem to be tolerating the weather better than me since we haven’t lost any to the cold yet.

I built a 13-by-20-foot hoop house on skids for the laying flock two years ago and with deep composting bedding they have also thrived during this cold snap. The floor is warmer than the nest boxes, so it does require egg gathering early to avoid frozen eggs lately.

We continually get inquiries from folks looking to buy meat goats and have resisted the urge to get back in the goat business ever since our Interstate 80 goat roundup many years ago ended that adventure. Thankfully, my neighbor, Ron, got them in for me since Ruth and I were in Indiana when the state police called me. We sold the goats as soon as we got home. But since many years have passed and the demand is increasing, I thought Ruth could do with another chore, so we got 20 billy kids to bottle raise at the beginning of the month. But due to a communication breakdown, I’ve been enjoying feeding them three times a day by myself. At least, I don’t have to milk the cow.

Normally, Ruth and her sister start planting in the greenhouse by now, but their dad, who they’ve been caring for the last few years, has required more attention lately. Just yesterday he went in to the hospital for a checkup after a fall, so their schedules are delayed. Howard, their dad, is a WWII Navy vet who just retired from running the combine three years ago, but can’t get around much any more and his three daughters have been taking turns caring for him. He lives about a mile north of us and will be 97 next week. Family comes first, greenhouse second. Eventually, it all comes together.

With each new season, both in weather and in life, new challenges come and new opportunities emerge. Remember, every day is a gift from God. Happy trails.