Sunday, September 09, 2007

The Great Escapade


After three ten-hour work-days, we were ready for a little rest after we came home from church this morning. Thankfully we were able to sleep and read until about three hours after lunch, when we got a call from our wonderful neighbor across the road from the farm.

"Hey [Stonewall], this is [neighbor], there's goats all over the hill and I think they're yours."

Naturally, I jumped into my shoes so fast that they tied themselves (after all, I paid for those goats). We try not to work on Sunday, but this was clearly an ox in the ditch scenario. We got a bucket of grain, and hurried over to the farm, but found no goats in sight. The fence had come undone at a joint and was pushed inwards. We suspect a dog got in due to low voltage, but we're not sure. From there we drove up to the neighbor's house, who told us the general location where the goats were last spotted.

To give you a perspective, a large stretch of the property across the road from us is owned by the same family, 40 acres total, where four siblings have their homes. The goats were last seen on the hill above the pond, next to the garden (which was harvested-whew!) We headed over there and spent a long time trying to find my dear nannies. I'm sure they wanted to find us just as badly.

I, with the grain, went in what looked like a likely direction, which took me a good half mile. By this time I was praying constantly that my herd-and the investment in them- wouldn't simply add to the wild goat population. I came to a dead end and turned around, and on the way back I met the goats, gracefully making their way through the forest- actually, it probably made a pretty scene. You can imagine how beautiful I thought they were at the time. Anyway, my prayers became praises and I began liberally offering handfuls of grain. All of the goats followed their accustomed white bucket all the way back to the pond. For some reason, once I had gotten that far, they were no longer interested in the grain. They wouldn't even nibble it.

Of course you know, this meant that drastic measures must be taken. So, equipped with a few paragraphs and illustrations regarding herding, which I had read in my sample issue of The Stockman Grass Farmer, I set out to herd six goats the half mile back to their paddock. Now, this is the very first time I had herded anything.

It turned out to be hard work, and I sympathize with herding dogs. The goats wanted to go anywhere but where I wanted them to go, but by nothing short of a miracle, I actually herded them past the pond, down the middle of the road, down our driveway, and straight into the paddock! Like I said, it was a miracle. The whole deal only took two hours. We praise the Lord for it all, who gets us through problems and teaches us all at the same time. I think I have a better idea of how herding works now. Of course, I'll certainly be more careful about maintaining the fence, too!



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I mentioned the thirty hours of work that we put in this weekend. We achieved a tremendous amount during this time, as the Lord blessed us with favorable weather and no injuries. We were working on sowing the five acres that we call the lower pasture with tall fescue, orchardgrass, crimson clover, white clover, and ryegrass. We already have crabgrass and johnsongrass.

We are trying to achieve the most diversity in our pasture as we can, and we'd like to reach 40 species. Of course, some of these would be forbs (weeds) and the rest would be grasses and legumes. The reason for this is that, first, we have a highly adaptable pasture to extend the grazing season and increase our stocking rate, and second, every species that we have will concentrate different nutrients, minerals, and trace elements in their leaves. The plants draw this from the soil to meet their own needs, but when the animals graze it the forage will better support them, make their meat more nutritious, and make the people who eat the meat healthier. This thinking is a rather different way to look at a pasture than most farmers, but it is perfectly logical. Health begins with the soil- what a surprise!

I digress. "Sowing" is a very misleading term. We actually went over each piece of ground seven times. First we raked, then we picked up sticks and stones, disced (harrowed with a disc), picked up sticks and stones again, dragged with mattress springs, sowed, and dragged with a chain link drag. The last two were behind the four wheeler and were the responsibilty of Smokestack and I. Of course, we were the ones picking up sticks, too.

We finished all but about half an acre, and now we're praying that it will rain. Sowing requires alot of faith, unless you're an atheist. In that case I guess it requires alot of hoping.




~Sherlock

4 comments:

Stonewall said...

Justification for purchasing a 4-wheeler for the farm:
1. pulling a broadcast spreader 2. dragging seed 3. dragging Sherlock ;) 4. searching for lost goats 5. Giving Stonewall a break from the tractor to run up and down the road to "air it out" (You've gotta open up the trottle every now and then to burn off the spark plugs, right.) 6. the list continues...

Sherlock said...

I'd rather not be dragged very often. Enough is enough. More reasons for a four-wheeler:
6.(you didn't really get this one): Moving the goat Taj Mahal. 7. Pulling an eggmobile or A-frame henhouse. 8. many more...

Mr. Potato Head said...

The story of you corralling goats is one of the funniest things we've ever 'herd'!

Anonymous said...

Oh, Sherlock!!! The adventures continue!! If we were still your neighbors, we could help you with goat herding. Ashlyn says that we would be more of a hindrance. Emma says it would be confusing. It sounds like you're getting help from the Creator of all goats, and that is sure what you need. God teaches us in so many ways doesn't he? You and the goats and the land are always in our prayers. Lauren says hello! All but Lauren are in favor of the 4-wheeler. She says it is too dangerous. I (Shayla) say, that's a lot of land and you've got to drive something. We miss you all so much!

Love,
The Powells