Tango, in the pose we most commonly see during the day

At last and as promised to so many of you, here are pictures of Tango, our new dog.  He is an Anatolian/Great Pyrenees cross and an all-around great dog.  He patrols the property all night, barking a lot and things like skunks (I’ve seen the tracks–and I told Ed that if he didn’t pick up the chicken food at night and store it that HE was going to have to bathe Tango should the dog get sprayed), racoons and that horrible, awful, very dangerous not-to-be-allowed-in-our-airspace Great Blue Heron.

Tango is FAST!  When he runs it’s like watching a cheetah move.  His previous owners told me they’d seen him outrun a coyote and turn back to catch the coyote by the throat.

Tango, wondering why in the world I’m pointing that thing at him.

So why did his former owners need to find him a new home?  Well, I think because Tango really wants to be a pet.  He totally enjoys getting lots of touching and has taken one of Sedona’s beds as his own.  They had six other dogs and I don’t think he was getting the sort of attention he needed, thus he was taking off to visit their neighbors (a lot harder to do on 40 acres than our meager 8) for days at a time.  They were constantly worrying that he’d been killed…only to worry again when he got home that he might get killed when he took off again.

Yes, Tango has visited all our neighbors, but he’s home within a few minutes in most cases.  He’s careful to do his job every night in trade for good food, a good brushing now and then and a nice dog bed on the porch with Sedona.

That’s right, Sedona is now an outside dog, although Ed still protests that the massive furball is going to be cold at night.  She also has a new job: play with Tango, which she is doing very well and seems to be enjoying a great deal.  That may also be part of why Tango is working out so well here: he gets to be the leader of an all-girl pack consisting of Sedona, Cappuccino and Honey from next door.  He was never alpha in his previous pack.

This morning a coyote trotted boldly across our fields to snatch a Buff Orpington.  What was Sedona doing?  She was lying in her bed on the porch watching this “Nature Show” as if it were television.  Not a peep from her.   Now, I was dashing across the field armed with the nearest tool I could find (a rake…what I thought I was going to do with it hasn’t yet registered), screaming at the top of my lungs.  And Brighty?  Her hooves were flying as she protected the Buckeyes and the turkeys.

But that dog did nothing.  Ed, you’re on notice.  We are getting a farm dog, no ifs, ands or buts.  I will not stand helplessly by as varmints steal my critters.

Little Surprise didn’t make it.  We called the vet when after an hour he hadn’t gotten to his feet.  When Dr. MacDonald came, he informed us that Surprise most likely had been born healthy and vital, but that coyotes or some other predator had gotten to him during the night. Leah remembers hearing the coyotes last night making a lot of noise.  I didn’t hear anything, and neither did Ed who had trouble sleeping last night.  Apparently the reason the calf was half out of the corral was because the predators had dragged him out.

The doctor suggested putting him down; we were all thinking about internal injuries.  Leah and I agreed.  Ed’s presently digging a hole for him while Brighty says her final goodbyes.

As Ed was putting the backhoe on the tractor to dig the hole, he said to me, “That’s farming.  You make one mistake and something dies.”  Of course, he blames himself but none of us knew she was THAT pregnant, not even the trained vet.  If we had, the coyotes wouldn’t have had a chance to get to him.

But I think Ed’s comment points to a terrible flaw in the way we think in our modern culture as compared to the Medieval people about whom I write.  They experienced death in some form, whether that of the animals they ate or the children who died so easily, every day .  Here in America, our culture actually entertains the idea of “defeating” death.  We keep our kids away from the funeral home for fear they’ll be traumatized but what is a natural and every day event.  In doing so, we’ve disconnected ourselves from REAL life and that’s a shame.

Still, poor little Surprise.

Brighty had a full term calf this morning and she’s still pushing. The vet is embarrassed. More to come??? (Pictures to follow)

More Farm fertility.  Another 500 plus plants hit the soil today: spinach, beets and lettuce.  I put them in last spring’s lasagna garden, the one closest to the barn.  What had been bagged compost, straw and cardboard is now rich, black, wormy earth.  It was a joy kneeling in it, using my hand fork to set in the tiny seedlings.  It even smells good!

This may turn out to be a winter to remember, especially with that garden enclosed in plastic sheeting.  Wouldn’t it be something if I managed to keep the tomatoes until Christmas?

Farm Fertility!  Ralph the Bull did his job after all.  Brighty is with calf, due in late spring.

This is very good because we really weren’t looking forward to eating her.  Thanks Dr. MacDonald (really, that’s his name—his practice is EIEI-MacDonald).

Farm Miraculous!  After skinning the chickens the raccoon had left us–and learning that hens have a fascinating ovarial contraption for producing eggs, I started into a day of gardening with Leah, who’s taking over our bucket garden.  While we were working on refreshing the watering system, Leah glanced at the ditch and cried out, “Otters!”

There, bouncing and playing in the water near the orchard was the mama otter and her four babies.  Although four of them scattered when they realized we were looking, one stayed back and eyed us as if curious about what we were doing at the top of that strange hill.  It floated on its back in the water, blinking up at us.  Where was the camera when I needed it?!

It was a little gift to make up for what was taken earlier in the day.