The Lumberjack's Wife

Growing up, I went to the same school from Kindergarten through 12th.  I had the same core group of friends.  And even though we don’t talk nearly as often as we would like, if ever we get the chance to get together, it seems as though no time has passed.

One such friend was Ashlee.  About 15 years ago, Ashlee told me about a little snack she made herself upon occasion.

Ashlee:  Taylor.  Take a spoonful of peanut butter and some chocolate chips.  Put them together in a small bowl and microwave.  You will definitely wish I never told you about that.

I would like to officially announce that I wish Ashlee had never told me about that.

Also:  100 meaningless points to whoever can guess what I am snacking on right now.

***

Purple Cow #5 lives!  And her baby lives!  And we needed a win, us Maliblahblahs, I tell ya.  A reader asked how we filled in the big hole that the cow had sunk into.

David put a large round bale of hay on the hole.  And I would like to officially announce that I had my doubts and did not feel like he knew what he was doing.

At all.

But, alas.  He did.  And the cows ate the hay and trampled the hay and now the hole area looks like this:

With Charlie grazing on it.  Of course.

And let us take a moment to admire Babs.  Babs is the world’s nicest cow.  And this is her daughter, calf 203, born in November 2020.  Perhaps I should name calf 203?

Yet, if I named her, she would probably die.

Calf 203 will not permit me to pet her.  She thinks I am a serial killer or something.

Babs is the only cow who will let you pet her.  And please understand that if you are feeling blue, petting a cow will turn your frown upside down.

But petting a calf-that will knock your socks off.

We feel as if Matilda will calve soon.

And I am hoping in my heart of hearts that the calf will have a marbled black and white face like her mama.

Happy Wednesday.

We went to the river property this weekend to stake out corners for a structure we are hoping can go up this year.

And apparently there was more snow there than we had anticipated.  We were ill-prepared, vehicle wise.  Luckily, Hadley’s new suitor was with us and he drives a truck with a winch (not wench) and he was able to pull one of us out.  So he is fitting into the family quite nicely.

And shall we admire the beauty of the river property and long for summer days?

Yes.  Let’s.

***

The boys are still undefeated this year in their junior high basketball season.  We had to fork over many dollars for these nice jackets.  I was the world’s most annoying mom for forcing them to pose for a photo.

I cared not.

Also:  Please imagine the coats say “Maliblahblah.”

***

I had cow drama today.  And are we surprised?  No.  No, we are not.  Can you imagine what it must be like to work with me?  I ask?

“Yeah, hi!  I have a stuck cow.  Gonna be late.”

I am tons of fun.

This morning before work, I heard a calf mooing constantly.  I decided to go and check things out and discovered this:

Purple Cow #5 stuck in the mud.  And her heifer calf was mooing for her.

And why does this stuff happen when David is not here?  He is never home for cow emergencies and he is the only one fit to deal with them.

At this time, Kate and I were the only ones home.  Kate was asleep, seeing as how it was about 6:45am, and I had to wake her up to tell her the fun plan for the morning.

And then I called Hadley and the boys had them turn around from town to come back and help me.

We worked on freeing this cow for about two hours.  We were all covered in poop.  Like a lot of poop.  Some mud, mostly poop.

We were not extremely successful.

We tried everything we could think of.  Hadley even tried some motivational speaking.

“Come on, Cow!  Get your head in the game!”

We had gotten some hay around her to keep her warm and try to sop up some of the mud (please remember, we have no idea what we are doing), and other cow friends came to snack on the hay around their friend in peril.

Things were not looking good, Reader.

So, I called David and asked if he could come home.  And he agreed.  And at this point, we didn’t know if the cow would live because we weren’t even sure how long she was down for.  David got the Bobcat (and it WAS running!) and put the spikey spear thingies underneath her.

Yes.  We were all afraid he was going to stab her, but what choice did we have?

Obviously Purple Cow #5 was very worried about her fate.  As she cannot even stop eating during her rescue.

We were all a muddy mess.

Kate lost a boot.

Just think of those toesies squishing in the poo.

We all looked like this:

And we all needed second showers.

But we saved the cow!  And we took second showers!  And we went back to our days!

On my lunch break, I decided to go and see how my friend Purple Cow #5 was doing.

I found her like this

Caked in mud.  Her baby nowhere to be found.

I was worried that her baby had not been fed.

And then I saw her baby’s face.

And I was able to infer that she was, in fact, able to nurse off of her muddy mother.

***

Hazel loves me.  And I love her.

And I think she only loves me for the bottles. But I am ok with that.  She sucks those things down in no time.

She is all that is precious and cute in this world.

Usually in our virtual “morning meeting,” I visit with my students and will sometimes share updates on Hazel.  And teaching virtually is trippy.  Usually, in the classroom, I can gauge where the kids are at with their reactions, but in the Zoom world, they are all muted.  I literally have no idea if they care one bit about Hazel.  Yet, I keep sharing.  Because who wouldn’t want to hear about Hazel?  I ask?

So we moved on and we were working on phonics and other such things.  I have this student.  Let’s call him “Max.”  Max likes to unmute himself and shout random things.  I don’t like this because it literally scares me half to death.  Plus it is kind of rude.  We are working on it, Max and I.

Anyways, we are learning how sometimes “ow” says “ow” in cow and sometimes”ow” says long O like in snow and Max umutes and shouts:

“HEY!  ARE YOU LIKE A FARMER OR SOMETHING?!?!”

ME:  Um, Kind of.  Please mute yourself.

And where has Max been all year?  I ask?  What is he doing while I am teaching and talking and talking and teaching?  I literally talk about the dang cows all the time.  He is pretty bright for his age, so I would guess he probably pretends to listen to me but is really watching YouTube videos instead.  I am not sure exactly how a kid could appear to be in class but watching YouTube instead, but I guarantee you Max would be smart enough to figure out how to do it. Max is only attending right now for the reading of “Farmer Boy.”  I know this because about 5 times a day, no matter what subject we are learning, he umutes and shouts: “WHEN ARE YOU READING FARMER BOY?”

Pajama Day was coming up.  One of my guys-let’s call him Al-he unmutes without raising his hand and starts rambling on about he prefers to only sleep in his underwear and would it be ok with me and the rest of the group if he at least put a shirt on and did not come to class in his underwear?

Me:  Yes, Al.  Please do not come to class in just your underwear.

The next day, he unmutes himself-without raising his hand-stands up and starts to lift up his shirt.

Why?  No one knows.  But both myself and Al’s mom started simultaneously pleading with the boy to “Please keep your shirt on!”

And, yes.  I am aware that Max, Al, and I need to have a Come to Jesus meeting about random unmuting interruptions.

***

Peoples:  Oh, Taylor.  You are so lucky to live on property with animals!  What a blessing!

Me:  Oh, yes!  Absolutely.

And then things like “Death of a Rooster” happen.

You may ask, Taylor?  What is “Death of a Rooster?”

And now, here is my story, “Death of a Rooster.”

One day, two roosters were sitting on a fence.  The puppy brothers were sitting under them and barking.  One rooster is brown in color and one is white.  Somehow the brothers pull the brown rooster down and absolutely murder him.  Like to death.  Like dead death.

White rooster remains seated on the fence, watching it all.  He does not offer to help his friend, nor does he feel the need to run for his own life.

I am 100% over the puppy brothers.  I will admit it.  Kate and HD, the puppy owners, need to help out more with these two.  Kate was the only one home, so I told her to go and take the dead-dead rooster away from the puppies.  And then I drove to work.

Later, I ask her what she did with the rooster.  She said she placed his dead-dead body in the fire pit.  I asked her if she thought the puppies would probably just pull the dead-dead carcass out of the pit and continue to chew on it?  She did not answer my question.

A couple of days pass and David tells LD to burn everything in the fire pit.  At this point, I have forgotten about dead-dead rooster.  Don’t judge me-I have a lot going on.

A couple of days later, the puppy brothers have brought something to the porch and are happily eating it.  It looked like a rotissiere chicken carcass from Costco.  And that is because LD didn’t completely burn everything and basically cooked the dead-dead rooster, so the puppies were enjoying their flame roasted chicken.

Because I am 39 and have to do all the laundry in this house, I have determined that it is ok for me to never have to pick up gross things.  LD was the only one home so I told him to go and deal with the cooked dead-dead rooster carcass.

He does.

Then he comes into the bathroom right by me and starts to brush his teeth.

Me:  Wash your hands.

LD allows water to flow over his hands for about 1.3 seconds.

Me:  You didn’t use soap.  That’s gross.  You just dealt with a dead animal.

LD:  I don’t need to wash my hands.  I wore gloves.

Me:  That’s disgusting.  Wash your hands with soap.

LD (sighing):  Fine.

And that, reader, concludes my story, “Death of a Rooster.”

***

My kids have been playing basketball for years now, but I have always hated when coaches yell.  Doesn’t matter what team, just any coach yelling loudly at players makes me nervous.

The boys’ coach this year is awesome.  He is super patient and chill.  He will call out and talk to them, but never flips out and yells like some do.  The other day, we were in an intense game.  The other coach is yelling like crazy and it is making me feel all flustery.  Because the poor kids are playing their hearts out and trying and he keeps yelling:

ROTATE the ball!  ROTATE!

And I didn’t want them to win, because I am partial to my own children winning, but I was so hopeful those awkward middle school boys would just rotate the ball.

Also, we won.

Their team is undefeated.  At the most recent game, a young girl asked if the seat next to me was taken.  I said it was not and she sat there.  A bit later she asked if I was related to anyone on the team, and I told her who I was related to.  And she told me she goes to school with HD and LD.   And then LD had a steal and a layup, but I didn’t get the video.  She overheard me tell David that I missed it and she told me that she got it on video and would text the video to HD.

David overhears.

David:  Hey, are you the girl HD has been talking to on the phone?

Girl (embarassed):  Well, sometimes.

And I am just sitting here wondering when my baby boy started talking to girls?

Later, I asked David and he told me that HD facetimes a girl all the time and I didn’t know any of this was going on, so I shall have this day for mourning.

***

David’s eye looks all wacky.

Me:  What did you do?

David:  Got it with a wire.

Me:  Explain exactly what happened.

David (sigh):  I was shoving wire through conduit and it came around and got me in the eye.

Me:  Like it smacked you or stabbed you in your eyeball?

David:  Stabbed me in the eyeball.

Me:!

Me:  David!  Did it make a weird sound like a “squish” when it went into your eyeball!?!

David:  Nope.

Me: !

Me:  David!  Did you have to pluck it out?!

David:  Nope.

Me:  !

Me:  David!  Can you see?

David:  Yup.

And that is all I have to talk to you about today.

HD and I were home alone.

HD:  Mom.  I got my four wheeler stuck way down the road.  Need your help.

Me (who had no idea he was on his four wheeler):  How am I going to help?  I don’t know what to do.

HD:  Just come on.

And then we did this:

And I sat on the broken four wheeler and steered and he towed it home.  Backwards.

Also:  he is almost fourteen.  So just let that marinate for a bit.

***

Let’s talk about Lily.  Lily got to come over to her FAVE people’s house:  David and Taylor.  David coerced her into learning how to castrate a calf.

Lily castrated a calf.  Said calf than got his revenge by kicking her in the eye.

Lily is doing A Ok.  Didn’t need stitches afterall.  I am under the impression that neither she or her mother are angry at me.  Time will tell.

I took this picture of Mildred and her calf today for Lily.

Lily:  That’s a cute calf.  I took his balls.

Me:  What did you do with them?

Lily:  I threw them.  That’s what David told me to do.

This is why the teens come to my house.  Where else can you get an unlimited supply of fruit snacks AND get to toss calf testicles into the wind?

Go ahead.  Name one place.

I’ll wait.

***

And now, let us examine some pictures and videos of cows.  Because that is a normal thing to blog about on a Wednesday.

Opal and Friends.

Matilda.  Who is not even embarassed to be wearing her dinner.

And of course, the star of all our hearts:  Hazel.

The weather has turned warm.  We are basking in the glory of 50 degree weather over here.   My kids are certain coats are no longer a thing and are ready for shorts and short sleeve t shirts.  Hazel has been kicked outdoors for most of the day.  She stands at the gate and cries for me.  I’m sure that’s normal.

After I feed her a bottle, she acts like she is starving and would like four more.  She always has milk dribbles all over her face and she wipes her face on my pants.  Then she likes to lick my pants and knock into my legs hoping for more milk to magically appear.

Reader.  Real calves do this knocking thing to their mothers.  Like in nature.

See:

That’s Purple Cow #5 and her calf who is about a week older than Hazel.

Things to note:

A)  It kind of hurts when Hazel does this to me.  Like not bad, just kind of.  I imagine it shall get worse.

B)  Should I feel self conscious that a calf is confusing my thighs with a cow’s giant and saggy udder?

Things to ponder.

And lastly, here is Babs and her four month old heifer calf.  Babs is chilling out and scratching her head.  As cows do.

Hazel’s unfit mother walks right into the scene by them.

She has yet to notice I took Hazel.

***

Should we talk about my stupid knee?

Sure.  Let’s talk about my stupid knee.

Things “of concern” showed up on the MRI and I am being referred to an orthopedic doctor.

It has been ONE MONTH since I tripped and fell.

***

On a very serious note-

Someone very close to us who we love with all of our hearts just received a serious medical diagnosis.  We are not completely sure of all the details, and I am not sure how much this person would want me to share, but I do know that prayers are always appreciated.

Thank you.

Over the past couple of weeks, four calves have been born on these here lands.  And all four of those calves needed to be tagged and castrated, so long as they were male.

We had extra teens this weekend, so we felt it was the ideal time to try and seperate these calves from their mamas and do our thing.

First, we tagged Hazel.  She is a girl, so no need to castrate.

Do you like the tag I made for her?

Because I do.

Next, we had to head out to the main pen where all the moooooody cows and calves reside.

Since I am the cow expert on our property, I am the one who knows which ones the mamas are and their babies.  And we were looking for Black cow (clever) and her bull calf, Purple Cow #5 and her bull calf, and Mildred and her bull calf.

Mildred is literally terrifying.  I kid you not.  And I was extremely worried that someone was going to get hurt.  And it would be so bad for anyone to get hurt, but I really didn’t want the teen guests to get hurt.  Because what kind of hostess permits her guests to get hurt?  I ask you?

We head out to try and get all the cows in one area.

This is easier said than done.

First, Auggie, YES, Auggie ropes a calf.

Go, Auggie!

This is black cow’s bull calf.  David, Hadley, and Lily are tending to the calf while Auggie and I are trying to keep Black Cow away.

We were successful.  And no one got hurt.

We set off again.  It is really fun because the cows like to all run together to the complete opposite end of the property and some peoples in our party have to go and try to herd them back.

My job was to stand in one spot and not let them pass by me.  And I nailed it, of course.

Next we got Purple Cow #5’s calf.  And yes, Auggie roped her as well.

Apparently Auggie is a bona fide cowboy.

Who knew?!

And when it was time to castrate, it was discovered that Taylor was, in fact, mistaken, and this calf was a girl.

Me:  Oh, yay!  He is a girl!  And now we do not have to castrate!

And then.  We had to face Mildred.  And what can I write to express to you the deep fury and hatred Mildred has for all mankind.? She charged at several of us.  And once she was going towards Kate and HD and I told them to get out of the way and David was like, “No!  Don’t let her pass!”  And I was like, “You listen to me, Mister, no one is dying here just to castrate this calf.”

Finally, David ropes the calf.  Auggie and I were trying very hard to keep everyone alive, but Mildred was really quite furious.

Me:  Oh, please be a girl!  Please be a girl!

David:  It is a boy.

So, we must tag him and castrate him and not permit Mildred to murder us.

But then David didn’t have his knife!  And what a time to lose your knife!  And Auggie was so brave and I really didn’t want him to become a Mildred fatality.

HD ran to get David another knife.  David and Lily started to castrate and Auggie and I and the rest of the crew worked on keeping David and Lily alive.

Finally, they were done and they untied the calf.  Mildred and the calf mooed angrily at us to inform us of their displeasure and ran off into the sunset.

I breathed a great sigh of relief that no one had gotten hurt.

And then.  I saw Lily.

She got kicked in the head by the calf and was bleeding.  So, she is on her way to the doctor and I am hopeful her mother will forgive me.

But all calves are tagged and castrated.

The end.

It is official.  I am in love with Hazel.  And she loves me.  And we are best friends.

She listens better than the puppy brothers.  Look at our footprints in the snow.  She is always right by my side.  True, she is knocking into my legs and sucking on my pants, trying to get more milk.  Bless her heart.  But she is so precious to me and is anyone else in the world as lucky as I am, getting to go on a walk with their cute dogs and sweet calf?  Why would I ever leave my house?

These are happy days, my friends.

I took Hazel a bit farther on our walk today.  She discovered cows!  She was intrigued.

Here she is introducing herself to Maisy.

We have been waiting for Maisy to calve for over a year.  She always tricks us, what with her looking all gigantic all the time and such.  She is not petite.

Update:  Hazel’s mother has YET to notice that Hazel is gone.

Later on, I took Hazel into the actual cow pen.  She was running and mooing and did not quite know what to do with herself.  She tried to nurse off a different mama cow and this mama did not appreciate it.  She kicked Hazel!

Of course, I got her right out of there.

David suggested we tag some of our new calves soon.

Me:  Should we tag Hazel?

David:  Probably.

Me:  Ok.  Well, I am going to write on the tag:  Hazel.  Not for human consumption.

David:  I will be the laughingstock of the auction if I ever take her there.

Me:  Well you are not taking her there, so . . .

***

So that’s what is up over here.  Laundry, dishes, groceries, teaching, basketball, and Hazel.

HD –

LD-

Hazel-

Happy Weekend!

On Saturday, I went to check on the cows.  Found a new baby.

Hooray for this baby.  It has a good mother.

Said hello to the rest of the gals, too.

And don’t you wish you could eat like a cow?  Like just totally stand in your spaghetti.  Have spaghetti all over you head.  Keep your baby in your spaghetti.

What a life.

***

We got together with David’s side of the family this weekend to play broom hockey.

First, we had to clear snow off the frozen lake.

David and Kate-

Hadley and her cousin-

Here’s how broom hockey works:

1.  Get a group of people on a frozen lake.
2. Please make sure the lake is frozen for realz.
3. Grab several brooms.  Please do not bring a broom you like.  The broom will break.
4. Use something like a tennis ball for a puck.
5. Watch all your loved ones fall down and break brooms.

No, I did not run around on the ice with my knee.  I did play goal keeper and did not move, therefore, I was a terrible goal keeper.

My team loved me.

It was a fun day.  And no one got hurt!  And no one fell through the ice!

***

And now let’s talk about Hazel.

I am in deep like with Hazel.  Maybe even love?  Is it too soon to say that?

I don’t want to seem all full of myself or anything, but I think she is in deep like/love with me as well.

I feed her the bottle and then she just wants to sniff and lick my pants and follow me around.

This morning, she was out walking around with Charlie and me.  She and Charlie were chasing each other all around and I went into the house for a few moments to do a couple of things.

I forgot that Charlie knows how to open the front door.

So, Charlie opened the front door, and in came Charlie AND Hazel.

Trying to get her out of the house before she relieved herself was an adventure.  Because even though Hazel might think she is a dog, she doesn’t really respond to commands like dogs do.  And her cow hooves were not made for hard flooring like tile and wood floor.  And she had quite the time going down the front steps.

But she made it out.

And I had a calf run through my house.

So that’s new.

Happy Tuesday.

Let’s talk about reading.

Reader.  Have you ever tried to teach a struggling reader how to read?  And who is responsible for the English language?  We most hold this person accountable for the atrocities they have brought upon our youth.

Struggling reader tries to read “Pete.”

Student:  pet

Me:  Oh!  I see a bossy E!  What does bossy e do?

Student:  Pete.

Student tries to read “fine”

Student:  fin

Me:  Bossy E!

Student tries to read “mane, shine, and cube.”

Student:  man, shin, cub

Me:  Oh!  Don’t forget about that tricky bossy E!

Student, who is now completely over me, tries to read “have.”

Student:  hAve!

Me:  Oh!  Hmm.  Good job on the bossy E, there, but this is a “rule breaker”!  You just ignore the bossy E in this word.

Me:  “ow” team says “ow” as in cow.

Student:  wow

Me:  Yes!

Student:  now

Me:  Yes!

Student:  kuh-now!

Me:  Oh!  Hmm.  Well in this word, the “ow” team says long O and the k is quiet.  And this is “know” like “I know the answer” not “No, you cannot have a cookie.

Student: . . .

Me:  Let’s talk about the word “Wednesday.”  We say “Wensday.”  But when we spell it, try to say in your head “wed-nes-day.”

Student:  *crickets chirping*

They probably think I sound like a lunatic.

We have been reading Farmer Boy together in class.  And have you ever read Farmer Boy?  I love Almanzo.  He is a good character to teach the kids about perseverance.

But, I digress.

We were at the chapter, “The Strange Dog.”

Me:  Ok, kids.  This chapter is going to feel a bit different than the others.  It is pretty suspenseful!

We read the chapter and discuss it at the end.

Student (with giant eyes):  Mrs M!  That chapter made me feel scared almost!

Me:  I know!  Did you remember how I told you it would be suspenseful?

Student (eyes still giant):  I didn’t know what the word “spenceful” meant!

***

One of my children exits the shower.  Said child goes to where I keep the clean clothes hampers.

Child (annoyed):  Where are my clean clothes?

Me:  Well.  Yesterday, you were told to put them all away.  And you did.  Good job!  But I was in town all day and did not do more laundry, so there is no new clean laundry for you to choose from.

Child:  UGH.

Aren’t I just the worst?  The nerve of me.

***

Since I was in town yesterday, the children were responsible for Hazel’s afternoon and evening bottles.

Children:  How do we do it?

Me:  You make the bottle.  Open the door to the coop.  Call out “Hello, Hazel!”  And show her the bottle.  She will get up and come to you.

Children: . . .

Me:  You must say hello to her!  Also, give her a few pets.

Children:  Mom.  She is not a dog.

While I was in town, HD decided bottle feeding was not his cup of tea, and he rigged up a bottle holder for Hazel.

HD:  See, Mom?  Now you don’t have to be out there in the cold feeding her.  She will just drink her own bottle.

Me:  But how will she know we love her?

Children:  Mom.  She is not a dog.

Yes, HD’s contraption will come in handy when I am in a hurry.  He did a good job.  But I still like to visit with her.

You can see his contraption in the background.  It was clever of him.

We bought that bottle holder back when we had Tiny Tim.

Do you reember Tiny Tim?  Do you?  Do you?

He died.

Shocker.

Here is little Miss Hazel, being all cute and nine days old:

And she just wanted to play with Charlie and me and not go back in the coop.

And when Charlie had enough, she led her back into the coop.

Although I am not convinced that is the proper way to herd a calf.

The puppy brothers have given themselves a job.

They stand guard at the water trough and growl fiercely at any horse or cow who dares to drink from the trough.

So far, they have deterred no animal from drinking from the trough.  Yet, they press on.