The Rogue Ram Is Gone

While I taught a cooking class during most of the daylight hours on Saturday, Phil spent a few hours doing a major cow move. And then rested.

We had a great visit with friends on Sunday evening, but the boys didn't get to bed until after 10pm, which meant that Joe was a tearful basket case most of the day. Poor guy. Phil had a sinus headache, but managed to get through the full twelve hours we were away from home.

Today he continued to have his odd headache. He said that he didn't feel stuffy, but when he went to do the neti pot, his sinuses were completely blocked. While I did dishes, I kept glancing at him, and he was just sitting in his chair, eyes closed.

Our friend Martin came in the afternoon. He and Phil went to the lower pasture, with Isaiah, to sight in rifles. I would hear little pip-pips from Isaiah's .22. But Martin was once stationed in Alaska, and he had bought a gun that outfitters there use for protection from Grizzlies. BOOM! It was always really obvious when that gun fired.

When they came up slope, they took care of the rogue ram. Phil is quite proficient at butchering at this point, so even though I'm not sure we'll eat the little guy (my original plan was that he would just go to the dog), they skinned and dissected him. So they never did get around to killing Buttercup. Tomorrow.

I spent several hours planting 440 more garlic cloves. The earliest few I planted have already poked up—what a fulfilling crop garlic is. What else is springing up at the end of November?!

In less happy news, I again visited little Charity, who remains tame and sweet. Isaiah loves her, too, and he knows to approach her slowly. He spreads out his arms and approaches in slow motion, which reminds me a bit of a scary mummy movie. The calf doesn't often stay put for the extremely slow-moving creature to reach her, but Isaiah is persistent and generally gets some good boy-calf interaction.

I have checked Bethany's udder a few times, just to make sure that she isn't developing mastitis. It seemed unlikely, with a baby on her at all times. But today, when I checked again, her right rear quarter felt like there were baseballs hiding in it. Rock-hard lumps = mastitis = frustration and sorrow.

I tied Bethany and tried to milk out that quarter, but it was almost completely blocked. I would massage for half a minute, get out 1/16 of a teaspoon, massage some more. It felt like I made no dent in the quarter. Bethany took the intervention in fairly good humor, but I remember the one time I had a blocked duct and how incredibly painful it was.

For so long I have wanted to produce raw milk for the family, but I feel like I have been thwarted and thwarted again.