"How many cows do you have?" is a seemingly straightforward question that I get all the time. But I seldom know the answer because cattle are hard to count, and it keeps changing all the time. When I meet ranchers from Utah or Texas, they don't hesitate to say 3,000, 10,000, or even 30,000 head of cattle. My next question is, "How do you count them?" My whole herd of 40 to 60 probably falls within a Texan's margin of error.
This year our mini-pig, Tazzy D. Moo, has agreed to challenge Phil’s role as end-of-winter-predictor by dressing up like a groundhog. This is an opportunity Tazzy has been waiting for her whole life. To honor tradition, she will wear a fashionable groundhog costume, but unlike Phil, who doesn’t speak, Tazzy will give a speech.
It’s never a good idea for cows to give birth in the winter. A calf used to the 101.5-degree warmth of the womb can die of hypothermia when born in freezing temperatures. They need to be warm, dry, and nursing right away.
After parking the truck with the Miles Smith Farm logo on the door, I pulled my hood over my head and dashed for the entrance to the fast-food joint, hoping not to be recognized. My preaching about buying locally raised food did not fit with my impending snack. ("Hypocrite" is such an ugly word.) I rationalized that I wasn't breaking last New Year's resolution to eat only local food because, after all, I was seeking a baked potato....
Every year four or five bulls are born on the farm, but we don't use this local talent for breeding. It would weaken the herd genetically. So periodically, we have to buy a new breeding bull from elsewhere. Bringing in a new bull is challenging, though.
I live at Miles Smith Farm with my sister, Penny. She's two years younger than me, and we fight over food, but I always win because I'm bigger. She is sneaky, though. Whenever Carole puts on my harness, I have to stand still so she can clip the straps. That's when Penny, who knows I can't move, nudges me from the rear with her snout.
