Llama Wrestling

A couple of weeks ago the woman and I were in the feed store. Nothing interesting about that, it usually happens at least once a week, sometimes more depending on the flow of estrogen around the ranch. I can't even remember what we were shopping for, doesn't matter really. What matters is that my wife is a complete push over when it comes to animals. A couple of years ago we wanted to start a large animal rescue, it didn't work out but by the looks of the ranch one would never know. Some months ago we came home to find a new goat in one of the runs. Some lady, who knows some lady, who knows the Cripple Creek Medical Chief who knows the 4 Mile Medical Chief, said to some other person that we would be happy to adopt it. We got the HOUND DOG in the same way. Hound climbed into the Professor JoDee's truck, JoDee told Shelly to see if she could find the owner and here we are a year later happily adjusting to Bloodhound farts at 2 a.m. Life is good! At any rate, as I said we were in the feed store. Turns out that DC needed to find homes for two of his llamas as he was selling his house and moving. Llamas don't rank in my top ten favorite animals. I don't completely dislike them, they are just "there." We already had four llamas that do an outstanding job of guarding goats and sheep. They are low maintenance, poop in "llama bathrooms", and don't spit very often. Three of them are girls and one is an intact male that was born here at the ranch. The male, named Q-Tip is a huge ball of fiber that lives across the street at the in-laws and roams 70 acres with Buster the Donkey. Shelly has been mentioning for too long that she would like to get Q-Tip a girlfriend. I just don't see the point. We don't need more llamas and just because we have a boy with jewels doesn't mean that we need wee ones. So, when she would mention something, I would do my best to ignore it. If Q-Tip really needed a woman we have a couple, we would just need to bring them together. Handling our llamas is not exactly easy. They are halter broke, and will eat out of your hand and once in awhile they will let you touch them. Like I said, they are just there. Last fall we decided that we had better get them vaccinated and dewormed. We managed to get two out of four stuck! Spot was easy and I had hoped that Oreo and Mama Llama would be the same but I was mistaken. Oreo has personality, she hums at me when I pass her pasture, she chews on my shirt sleeves and has bushy old man eyebrows. When it comes to leading her to the vet, she turns into a seizure on the end of a lead line. I managed to get her head tied to a post thinking that if I immobilize her she will be easier to handle. Instead of throwing her head around, she kicked me in the thighs. The vet lovingly refers to it as a "little rodeo." So, I really didn't want new llamas. DC however saw Shelly walking in and knew that he had a new home for his girls. Despite my protests Shelly made arrangements to bring them home. DC offered to transport them from his house to ours but said he might need help getting them in the trailer. I have learned that if someone needs help loading their own animals it is best to just stay home. No good will come of it. Then again we aren't really talking about me. Shelly jubilantly says that "we" will be over after chores one morning. So after chores one morning we take a very scenic route to DC's house. His llamas, Cinnamon and Tierra are in a small pasture with a catch pen in one corner. Shelly is quick to point out that there is a catch pen so it shouldn't be too bad. We drive up and retrieve DC from his workshop. DC says that he hasn't really worked with them since he got them THREE YEARS AGO! BUT....he thinks that we will be able to halter them with no problems. DC kills the zap on the fence and darts in the catch pen with a handful of grain. Both llamas follow him in and he quickly secures the gate. When Tierra heard the click of the gate she spazzes out. She's darting from corner to corner, kicking grain, and trying to climb the fence. Llamas don't normally climb the fence but her funky black toes were three squares from the top hot wire and she was towering over Shelly. DC finds some halters and leads and when Tierra sees them the spazzing is upgraded to a full on psychotic fit, complete with foaming. DC calmly says not to worry about her if we can get Cinnamon out, Tierra will give up and calm down. Hmmm, Okay...no problem. Cinnamon is getting irritated because Tierra is kicking around all of the grain. Shelly instructs me to stand gate guard in case they opt to jump over it. Whohoo, I'm thrilled. I'm not overjoyed about new mouths to feed and I certainly don't want to be on the end of a vile, bile filled spit bomb either. DC works out a plan with Shelly. DC is going to wrap the lead around Cinnamon and trap her in a corner, Shelly is to then simply slide the halter on and clip it. Simple and effective? Nope! DC gets the lead around the neck of the gangly beast. Cinnamon starts whipping her head from side to side, whipping DC around with her. DC instructs Shelly to help in get her in a corner. As the two of them are being shaken about, Cinnamon decides to abruptly sit down and folds her legs underneath of her. DC gets thrown over the back of the llama and is now wedged between Shelly and a mass of fiber. He looks puzzled but shakes it off and attempts to right himself on the opposite side again. Cinnamon then bounds up from her down position and again whips her head from side to side. DC is still pinned between the llama and Shelly. The entire time DC and Shelly are contending with Cinnamon, Tierra continues to pace between the corners of the pen, climbing up the fence each time. A couple of times the two llamas collide and ears are thrown back in the familiar, "get the heck out of my space or I'll spit" stance. Dust is flying, grain is tossed and DC and Shelly have been molded into one. Somehow they get Cinnamon smushed into a corner and Shelly attempts to slide the halter on. DC is still wedged in between her and the llama. Each time Shelly gets the halter near Cinnamon's nose she flips her head to the other side. Shelly attempts to hold the llama's head but DC's girth prevents her from getting a grip. I offer, not very loudly but still I offer, to help out. My offer is declined. At this point I'm trying very hard not to laugh out loud. My abs are hurting from holding it in. I motion to Jolene and tell her to get the camera from the truck. I can't believe I have been muffling my giggles for this long and haven't even thought of getting pictures. Cinnamon continues the bob and weave for several more minutes until Shelly has decided that she has had enough. Shelly grabs the llamas head, pulls the neck down toward her pinning the head between her forearm and bicep. Like a wrestler executing a headlock. DC's cries became muffled for a second or two and the halter was placed on the llama. One down. DC instructs Shelly to clip the lead on and then let Cinnamon go until we can get Tierra. Shelly gives him a look, Gary Coleman style-->"Whatcha you talking about?" and reluctantly lets the lead go. Cinnamon drags the line over to a couple of kernels of corn that have somehow remained untouched during the match. Tierra is still darting back and forth across the small pen. I ask again if I can help and Shelly enthusiastically accepts this time. Jolene has returned from the truck with camera in hand and offers to gate guard in my place. I climb over the gate and ready myself for round two. DC picks up his lead line and hands me the halter. He says again that Tierra will eventually give up. Eventually? I'm not a stickler for specifics but "Eventually" is just a bit too broad for me. DC instructs Shelly and I to use the same tactic on Tierra that was used on Cinnamon. Hmmm.....? Exactly what that was I am unsure. DC does get Tierra to calm down and quit darting around by humming and talking to her. For a second I think that this might not be so bad. I was wrong. I've been wrong a lot lately. As soon as he flops the lead on her back, Tierra returns to her diagonal laps across the pen. She again collides with Cinnamon and ears are thrown again. DC chases her back and forth and halfway up the fence with the lead but manages to get it round her neck. He gasps instructions to get her in a corner and Shelly and I commence to smushing the llama against the corner post. Instead of sticking in the corner Tierra kind of oozes along the fence line, and soon we are in another corner. She continues oozing along, dragging us with her as she goes. DC is telling me to slip the halter on her, and I'm trying. Tierra does a bit of a bob and weave like Cinnamon, except instead of side to side it is more of an up and down motion. We have now oozed around the entire pen and are back in the initial corner. Jolene is giggling, taking pictures and cheering. Between chuckles she yells at me to pretend that the llama is an ostrich. What a smart kiddo I have. I'm thankful that Jolene and I like to watch Dirty Jobs, as recently we saw an episode on an Ostrich ranch in which the birds were blinded with a sock of sorts in order to get them on a trailer. I'm not gonna blind the bouncing llama but I decide to take Jolene's suggestion. I slip the halter over my left hand, letting it dangle in the crook of my elbow. I then grab the nose of the llama with my left hand and use my right hand to pull the halter over the face of the oozing mass of fiber. I managed to get the halter on, and after a few bounces get it hooked to the lead. I throw up my hands as if I'm a champion goat tying rodeo queen and collapse into the dust. DC lets go of his end of the lead and bends over hands on knees and sucks up some dirty air. Shelly slides down the corner post and sighs with exhaustion. Jolene is sitting a top the gate, congratulating us. Both llamas are haltered with leads but Tierra continues to do her diagonal laps. After a few seconds of recovery we decided to "Git er Done" and grab for lead lines. Amazingly once the leads were in hand the girls settled down. DC reminds us again that Tierra gives up. Gives up after it's all in place! Jolene opens the gate and we lead the llamas around to the trailer, slap them in and head down the road. The rest was pretty uneventful. The girls were offloaded in Q-Tips pasture and introductions were made. I check on them every day from my front porch. Shelly asks each day if I have seen any love connections, to which I reply, "I don't give a Poo!" I can't remember what the gestation period of a llama is but I will find out and I will be away from the ranch around then. It ended okay, I didn't get a face full of llama spit, Jolene got a good laugh, and Shelly got two more animals. I think I'm gonna design a neato "Champion Llama Wrestler" belt for her to wear with her Wranglers.


*****On August 5, 2009 DC (David Carr) died of a heart attack. Dave owned Divide Feed with his wife Marina. Shelly and I spent a few dollars there from time to time. I dedicate my "Champion Llama Wrestling" title to Dave...where ever he may be.******

Same stuff, different animal.

Sometime last week, both Shel and I became blind or just didn't care enough to realize that we had another baby. Belle one of the new red girls, calved a pretty little girl. Finally another girl. Belle is being a good mommy and the fold is helping out with babysitting. Everyone is back together again since Mickey can't seems to stay in one place. We picked up a couple of new does from a lady in Rye. They are in milk but are first fresheners so they aren't producing a bunch. I really miss my Opal goat. We've been making lots of verbal plans for a new chicken coop and a new goat shed. I ordered 80 roaster chickens about two weeks ago. They dude at the feed store told me that the hatchery is about 4-6 weeks behind. I ordered them with this in mind. The feed store called last night to tell me that my chickens were in. SO...now the barn has duckies, chickies and more chickies. The coop is not built yet either. Oh well.

Along with all the new babies around the ranch my sister-friend Kelly and her husband John had their first baby on May 6, 2009. A beautiful lad named Cooper William Jackson. I was honored to spend a little time with mom and baby on Thursday afternoon. Since the loss of my blood family (which I'm not mourning too much) I am elated to welcome a nephew. Jano, is expecting in October as well. I can't wait to spoil them both with all the things the aunts did for the Bean against my protests. Over all, life is awesome...Life is good.

Another one.

I'm doing well on predicting babies even though we had no idea when the girls had their last encounter with the bull. This morning, early Daisy calved a red headed boy. Another boy! Mickey, Skye's baby from last year has been busy exploring the ranch, breaking down fences in his path. Adolescents males have always been my nemesis, human or otherwise. The little woman is finally done with EMT-I school so maybe I will have a minutes rest, I'm not going to count on it though. Ducks arrived on Friday as well. They aren't ours, I'm just being a surrogate of sorts. One of the gals that practices herding out her requested some ducks. So, the boss told her that I would be happy to rear them until they are old enough to run away from her horrid dogs. Now my tack room is filled with duckies and chickies. Sheesh!

New Baby

I've been patiently waiting on Skye to calve, even though the family thought I was nuts. About a week ago her udder started dropping and her hips started popping out, only then did everyone start to agree with me. I have been harping on the girls about keeping an eye on her. This morning after the run to Evergreen Station, I asked again only to get a, "Yes, she's fine." About noonish Shelly and Bean ran down to check on water and came running back up just as fast. Skye had found a spot in the corner of her pasture and dropped a beautiful bouncy boy. I ran out to get pictures and check out mom and baby only to find that my camera had a dead battery. So after letting it charge for a bit we zipped back down to document the momentous occasion. Upon arrival, Skye had a one end of the afterbirth in her mouth and was chomping away. This sight got an, "EEEWWH GROSS," from Jolene. The little guy seems strong and healthy and now that he is dried off is a beautiful smokey gray color.

Life is really catching up with me

The last time I shared I had started a small fire in the sheep pasture....whew a lot has happened since then.

In the process of vaccinating any animal that I could get my hands on, I accidentally vaccinated myself with a large goat dosage. I think I'll be fine, it's been several weeks and I've yet to feel any ill effects. I didn't even get a slight infection from the dirty needle. Vaccinating and deworming went well. I ran out of vaccine, got plowed by a couple of sheep and got pricked myself. All in a days work. Besides sticking little needles through thick wool, The Bean, Shelly and I were able to participate in a C-Section on the floor of the barn. Jill, a pygmy goat that I have been babysitting ended up with triplets and needed some extra help getting the third one out. Prior to calling the vet, Jill and Maggie (goat) had Shelly chasing her tail. Shelly came down to find Jill with a rather large baby, and Maggie with a little bitty white baby. Shelly thought it odd that the BIG goat gave birth to a little baby. I love Shelly, she is an amazing person but sometimes I do not understand her view of the world. Maggie did not even kid, she merely stole a baby from Jill and had I not come home, she might have gotten away with it. Instead I came home, took the baby from Maggie and threw Maggie out of the run. Bumped Jill, and found another kid still inside. I did glove up and stick a hand/arm in and feel around but the poor goat was too small and my arm too big. The vet was called, the baby delivered and I got material for a new story. My problem now...I've been too busy to write stories, to exaggerate on the truth, to plan for Oprah to get up set with my because my memoir isn't exactly the "whole truth." Oh well, there will be other days, other stories. Along with the C-Section, Maggie did finally kid a GIGANTIC baby girl we named Sophia. We decided to invest in a some more baby chicks, and currently I have fourteen chirping babies in the barn. Along with baby chicks, Gizmo, (Jolene's Duck) has been laying on a nice clutch of eggs. She has three little ducklings running around with her now and about ten eggs to go. I am very excited about the ducklings, have no idea why, since I do not find pleasure in birds. I'm still waiting on a couple of finicky cows to calve and hoping that the last snow storm has given us enough moisture to struggle through the summer. Other than that....its life as usual her on the ranch. Someday....I will have the time to tell stories again.

FIRE!

Things have been going swimmingly here at the ranch. I have been able to feed and water the animals before dusk most days. I know that doesn't seem like a big chore but it is for me. I am of feeble mind and most days I get side-tracked easily.

For instance, the other day I was surfing around cyber space when I happened upon some plans for chicken coops. I sort of need another coop. I have roasters coming soon, ducks than need their own space and probably new layers this summer too. I really don't need one right now but since I stumbled across some nifty plans I thought I should try my hand at building one. Now for those of you who live in my Rainbow World (or at least have some access to it) know what a Dyke Card is. I have such a card but I have yet to earn the "Power Tool" stamp. I have owned my fair share of power tools, even operated some of them. However since my venture into paradise with the Shelly I have had limited access to them. (If you will open up your LGBT Handbook to page 17, section 3, you will notice the rule about Two Dyke Households and the operation of power tools.) So it's fair to say that I am a little rusty with the Black and Decker area of the garage. But...I have been officially put off course and I decide to go in search of a saw, nails, screws, and such. I wish I had the "Gobs and Gobs of $$$" stamp too but alas I don't possess that one either, so I try to recycle and reuse whenever possible. I do know that we have plenty of 2X4s in the old barn and I have rescued some partial panels of plywood from the little house the blew down last summer. I get all of my "cheese" together and commence to building. I use some leftover Halloween spray paint to paint a section of plywood. I wait for it to dry and bust out the skill saw. I fail to pay attention to the type of saw blade, instead I set that screaming tool to wood and start cutting. Well, it didn't cut "Like Butter." In my haste, (we will call it haste it was actually stupidity.) I didn't bother to notice that I had a metal cutting blade on the saw. So half-way through the board the saw stopped working in a semi-small cloud of smoke! I didn't break anything the blade just wasn't made for that type of material and refused to cut any further. It was then I decided to take a look at the blade. OOPS. I think, only for a fraction of a second, that I should just abandon my chore and run off and do something else. Of course I don't, I go jetting off to the garage looking for the correct blade. Much to my displeasure I can't find the correct blade. Okay then...no coop building today! I decided to check on chickens and play with goats instead. I still haven't tracked down the correct saw blade or finished the first cut. No worries, it will be there when I am ready.

Some days I just can't get sidetracked. I just don't have time. Today started out normal but as I stepped out of the gate I knew things were going to get "funny." I have been trying to be a bit more healthy so I insist on cooking breakfast every morning instead of getting junk at Evergreen Station. So I cooked myself a couple of eggs with toast, bottle fed the babies in the barn and the Shelly and I headed out to chore at Phoenix Ranch. The Shelly is not participating in "healthier" anything right now so we have to make the trip to Evergreen Station anyway. As we are meandering down the road I talk to the Shelly about buying me a pair of overalls so I can wear them "Oklahoma Style" like my friend G suggested and we chat about MeMo's new bull calf that was born yesterday. Normal everyday, in the truck on the way to work type of chitchat. We pull into Evergreen Station and the boss lady Barb, meets us at the door and asks if we know Victor. We confirm that we do know him and ask why. She says that somebody came in a couple of minutes before and said that he was having car problems about twenty miles back. The informant asked Barb to call Victor's boss and have the boss come get him (Victor.) Barb had no idea who Victor was or who the Boss was. Still this is pretty normal for our little hub. We told Barb that Victor's boss was MeMo but that MeMo wasn't home and we would look after Victor as we were headed over to MeMo's anyway to check on the new baby. Barb is not really sure in which direction Victor was. From Evergreen Station a hick like myself can travel in three different directions; toward Cripple Creek the world's greatest gold camp, toward Florissant and the fossil beds, or toward Canon City the city of prisons. The Shelly and I decided that he is toward Canon City and after the Shelly gets her daily dose of Pepsi and smokes we venture off to to find him. I glance at my watch and remind the Shelly that I have to work at the high powered job today. She nods and assures me that we will be back in time for me to do my chores and get a shower. We are about to give up our search for Victor after mile 30. He was in luck as we were looking for a wide spot to turn around there happened to be Victor in his jalopy with his wife and baby, strapped to the top was a big ol' pile of wood. We put the wood in TomTruck, pack up wife, baby and Victor and turn back. After a couple of miles the Shelly decides that I will not have enough time to chore at Phoenix Ranch and tells me she'll just drop me off at Rolling Thunder. I agree happily, although I try not to sound happy, that would get me in all kinds of trouble. She swings through our ranch, and drops me off at the barn. I tell her that I'll get everyone fed, eggs collected and the working sheep's pasture cleaned up before I get a shower. She tells me not to worry about he pasture, we can get to it this coming weekend. The two of us argue a bit. The working sheep's pasture has a partial bale of GROSSNASTY hay. GrossNasty means that it is moldy and smelly and even the sheep won't eat it. The hay needs to be taken out in case some mentally impaired (most of them are) sheep decides to binge on it. A little GrossNasty hay won't hurt them. No matter what the reasons, the bale needs to go. I dismiss the Shelly and get to work. I feed all my critters, collect eggs and rescue the blind hen too. I determine that I have enough time to clean up the GrossNasty hay and I head for the tractor. Martha, who lives at Phoenix Ranch is milling around the barn with her buddies, they are getting in some practice with working dogs on working sheep. So...the pasture is empty of animals. I think that this is the time to move that darn hay. All the conditions seem right! I pull the tractor in and make several sweeps by the GrossNasty pile, spreading loose hay and sheep poo around the pasture. After a bit, I back up to the pile of hay and drop my blade behind it. I put the tractor in gear and start to pull away. This should be no problem, I'll just drag the whole darn thing to the garbage ditch. (The garbage ditch, also referred to as the graveyard, is a ditch on the edge of the property that has a lot of "stuff" in it---dead animals, old wood shavings from stalls, poop, etc... As I turn around to see how I'm doing I notice flames coming from the GrossNasty pile. OH NO! Moldy oldy hay like compost generates heat. I have added an influx of oxygen while trying to get rid of the GrossNasty hay! Now I have a little fire in the middle of my sheep pasture in the middle of a very dry winter. Thankfully it wasn't huge, I ran over it a couple of times with the tractor, and doused it with the hose. I had to ask Martha to leave the sheep up in the arena until Shelly returned because now I have ran out of time and I must get ready for the high powered job. Ah Jeez!

New Kickers

The kiddo has been sporting a new pair of treads since the winter holidays. They are quite pretty, pull on poo-kickers with pink leather uppers. The kiddo is not really into pink but her daddio jumps on any opportunity to get her to wear the girly color. Truth be told I buy her pink things too, just to get her to make the, "awh MOM" face. She needed new boots as she's growing, despite my protests. She's been wearing them everywhere since the big guy dropped them off under the tree. She's also been displaying her general distaste for my older boots with sarcasm, an inherited genetic defect. She is quick to point out that the soles on my boots are wearing out, and I've only had them since August. I can't get her to remember to close the lid on the toilet but she can remember when I purchased new boots. She also repeatedly tells me that they smell like poo and that I should really buff them up. Although she balks at pink, she has no problem comparing my rust colored uppers to the color of TinkerBell's (cow) hind end. She goes on to tell me that I should have shopped around when purchasing my boots as the Justin brand is really a better boot than Ariat, in her humble opinion. So...This morning as she was sliding them on, we were headed out to check on the pregnant goat, I notice that she has the same Ariat stamp on the soles of her boots as I do on mine. I slip on my boots, and make a remark about how they are cold. The kiddo says, "Well you should have bought Justins, mine are toasty." I'm trying not to point out that we have the same brand of boot, I want her to open her mouth a few more times. Down at the barn, I complain that my feet hurt, that my boots are rubbing on my calf and I pretend to trip over the toes several times. Each made up complaint I air is met with a reason why I should be wearing a different brand. Upon returning to the house, she sits down just inside the door and slips off her "better brand" of boots. I pick up the first one as it hits the floor. I look, with puzzlement on my face at the sole of her boot. I flip my foot up so that I can look at the sole of mine, then again look back at hers. I drop her boot to the floor, and mutter a, "huh." The kiddo looks at me, and looks at her boot. She looks at me again, and says, "What?" I pick up her boot and ask her to read what it says on the bottom. She takes it, looks at it and says, "A rat." A rat? I ask why a boot would have, "a rat" stamped on the bottom. She shrugs and says, "I don't know, maybe they are made from rat skins." "That's a lot rats to skin", I say. "Well, they are nice boots", She pipes in. I break it to the kiddo that the bottom of her boots does not say, "a rat" but rather Ariat, a brand just like the brand of my boots. She looks at me with that look that says, "I know you brought me into this world but right now I'm really, really, really upset that your smarter about this one single point and I would really, really, really like to just kick you in the shins and go to my room and watch t.v. like this never happened." She says instead, "Nuhuh, I got a Justin ball cap with these boots, they aren't Ariats. I point out several other clear markers and she concedes that I am right and that she has just been bashing the brand of boots that she herself has been wearing. I'm mentally preparing to do the victory dance with some verbal, "woot-woots" but my thoughts are cut short when the kiddo says, "Oh well, they are still better than yours." "I have smooth soles so I don't get poop stuck in them and then I don't smell nasty all day." She gives me a smirk, shucks the other boot and leaves them both in a pile in front of the door. She hurries down the stairs and I hear her talking with her dog. UGH!