Some things don't belong... and some do

Tuesday morning, I heard the cattle bellowing and looked out the window to see them all in a circle in the center of one of the fields. This was not normal behavior. Fortunately farm boss was still home and he walked out to see what was going on.

One of the cattle matriarchs was lying dead in their center. Since we had been out there the evening before, she had to have died that night. I am not sure of her age as she came many years ago as a refugee from a neighbor selling off his whole herd. She had hidden out in the bush and came out when the drive was over. She would get through our fences and attempt to mingle with our herd (herds take awhile before accepting strangers). We would push her back through the fence to the land from whence she had come. Pretty soon back she'd be back in with the herd. She was good at the Houdini thing which is why she survived the drive.

We offered to buy her from the neighbor and her calf which was born after she came here. He had no interest in selling, said he'd come get her, but he never did. After a few years, his cost of having boarded her here would have been greater than her value and she stayed. All of that was a good 7 years ago, maybe more. She became a part of the herd, the calf she birthed is still our bull today. Every year, including last fall, she has had another calf and has been one of our best mothers.

She died like most of our geriatric cows die. The veterinarian said one time he had never seen such old cows as very few ranches can let their senior animals live on. They sell them for hamburger or dog food. We permit those who have served us well to live out their lives here. Often, as was the case with her, they show no signs of problems, aren't skinny, and browse with the herd until the day they drop dead. If they begin to limp or have health issues, we will kill them (also bury them right here) but most don't. They just die right on the ground where they were born many years before.

The herd grieved her passing. Cows are amazing that way. All through the day, until she was buried, they would return to circle the body. We felt sad too as she was always a pleasure to see out in the field, but she died a good death. Can't ask for more than that. (And thank goodness we bought a backhoe last year as now burying them is not a problem).

For years I had not been sure where I wanted my ashes sprinkled when I died, but this winter I knew. I don't want them sprinkled or in some urn somewhere. I want them buried in the ground in a biodegradable container; and if I am still living here, back there where we have buried so many beloved animals.

This week, we've been dealing with squirrel removal also. There are big bushy-tailed, gray squirrels that have regularly been raiding our bird feeders and setting up homes in the woodpile. Some dig holes in the ground-- thus the nickname grey diggers. We cannot allow a lot of rodents to live near the house, not healthy; so that is not an option. We had three choices.

One, we could stop putting out birdseed and hope the squirrels would find other homes.. unlikely on them leaving now.

Two, my husband could shoot the squirrels around the house as he has had to do with those in the barn area. I didn't like that idea. I mean they are just trying to make a living.

Three which is what has been happening. We could set the live trap; and as we catch squirrels, carry them in the trap to the back to release with the hope they won't return.

Wednesday afternoon, I went out to check the trap and found a twofer. They were fast enough to both get in before the gate swung down. I got on my straw hat, a thin shirt, grabbed some leather gloves (the trap handle is heavy bent wire which cuts into your fingers after awhile), a small sack of seeds (I am hoping to encourage them to stay back there), and carried the trap to the back. After I had released them, I thought again about whether we ought to be marking these guys. We don't want to catch the same ones over and over. It's about a quarter mile back there. Wonder how far squirrels consider their territory.

As I came up from the creek, empty trap in hand, the cattle herd, who had been in a different field, confronted me. I had heard the bellowing and saw them come over the ridge looking suspiciously at what seemed like a stranger carrying what could be a weapon. They are always a bit spookier after death visits the farm.

I realized I was wearing something I haven't worn for awhile-- a straw hat (baby, it's hot outside). When I took it off, they shrugged and turned away. Oh, it's just you. Cattle don't like strangers on their land.

(Cattle photo taken in April, not of the cow who died this week but her first calf born on the place, our bull, and the last calf she had in the fall, the black one. Photos of a squirrel release were taken July 7th by Farm Boss. It's a promising world for the squirrels back there... if they stay. If they don't, it will be option two... anybody know about a safe spray paint for squirrels? *s*)