April 13, 2019 Vermont
Reading Jon Katz' blogs about the sheep shearing going on today on his farm and his special blog on Vermonters has me recalling my years on our Vermont dairy farm. We did not have sheep. I don't
remember there being many sheep in Vermont at that time - certainly not in our vicinity.
But the Vermont people remain the same. The newer arrivals who have settled in Vermont are
apparently cut from the same cloth as the "natives". Salt of the earth, my grandmother would call them.
My Dad's farm, Indian Brook Farm, was composed of 190 rolling acres in the town of Colchester,
about 10 miles north of Burlington. We had 50 head of cattle more or less, mostly Holsteins, with
two Jerseys for "house milk". Holsteins are the black and white cows and Jerseys are brown or fawn.
(This last for those unfamiliar with cows.) For a while the creameries, where we took our milk every morning in large metal cans, paid a premium for milk with higher butterfat content. Jerseys produced that milk. My family loved the Jerseys with their big soft brown eyes and their gentle ways. Then came the medical "fat" warnings and Holsteins, who produced larger amounts of milk with the lesser
butterfat were the more profitable choice. My sister Patty, 3 1/2 years younger than me, and I were
4-H members. We each had a calf to raise, train, keep records on. Every evening we put halters on our calves and walked them up and down the dairy barn aisles. We taught them to stand with their feet squarely under so their backs were nice and straight. We brushed their bodies until they glowed.
One time Patty had a heifer (young female cow) - Jersey which she had purchased with her own baby-sitting money. Her name was Patsy. She was brown with a black face. She had a big fluffy white tassel on the end of her tail. The problem was that when the cows lie down in their stalls they like to dunk their tails in the gutter behind them which held cow pee and poop. This did not make for
the look that my sister desired. So one night before a show, my sister washed the white tail tassel in
a bleach solution. Then to ensure the tail stayed clean, she wrapped it in a plastic bag, taping it tightly to the upper section of tail. Next morning when we were readying our heifers for trucking to the show grounds, my sister removed the bag. All of Patsy's beautiful white tail hair came off with it,
leaving a bare stub. As I recall, Patsy went to the show anyway and did earn a ribbon. My sister
braved it out, laughing with those who laughed at her unfortunate calf.
And that is the indominitable spirit of a Vermonter.,
Reading Jon Katz' blogs about the sheep shearing going on today on his farm and his special blog on Vermonters has me recalling my years on our Vermont dairy farm. We did not have sheep. I don't
remember there being many sheep in Vermont at that time - certainly not in our vicinity.
But the Vermont people remain the same. The newer arrivals who have settled in Vermont are
apparently cut from the same cloth as the "natives". Salt of the earth, my grandmother would call them.
My Dad's farm, Indian Brook Farm, was composed of 190 rolling acres in the town of Colchester,
about 10 miles north of Burlington. We had 50 head of cattle more or less, mostly Holsteins, with
two Jerseys for "house milk". Holsteins are the black and white cows and Jerseys are brown or fawn.
(This last for those unfamiliar with cows.) For a while the creameries, where we took our milk every morning in large metal cans, paid a premium for milk with higher butterfat content. Jerseys produced that milk. My family loved the Jerseys with their big soft brown eyes and their gentle ways. Then came the medical "fat" warnings and Holsteins, who produced larger amounts of milk with the lesser
butterfat were the more profitable choice. My sister Patty, 3 1/2 years younger than me, and I were
4-H members. We each had a calf to raise, train, keep records on. Every evening we put halters on our calves and walked them up and down the dairy barn aisles. We taught them to stand with their feet squarely under so their backs were nice and straight. We brushed their bodies until they glowed.
One time Patty had a heifer (young female cow) - Jersey which she had purchased with her own baby-sitting money. Her name was Patsy. She was brown with a black face. She had a big fluffy white tassel on the end of her tail. The problem was that when the cows lie down in their stalls they like to dunk their tails in the gutter behind them which held cow pee and poop. This did not make for
the look that my sister desired. So one night before a show, my sister washed the white tail tassel in
a bleach solution. Then to ensure the tail stayed clean, she wrapped it in a plastic bag, taping it tightly to the upper section of tail. Next morning when we were readying our heifers for trucking to the show grounds, my sister removed the bag. All of Patsy's beautiful white tail hair came off with it,
leaving a bare stub. As I recall, Patsy went to the show anyway and did earn a ribbon. My sister
braved it out, laughing with those who laughed at her unfortunate calf.
And that is the indominitable spirit of a Vermonter.,
Hi Cynthia, Great story. So enjoying what you are sharing. Just keep it up - I see that many others are enjoying your blog also. I read Jon Katz every day and have also been following the situation you are experiencing with your property owners. I want to applaud you for speaking up for yourself and many of the other residents who are your friends and neighbors. If this question is intrusive please ignore and accept my apology but it is about your little feral kittie. Jon has updated all his readers about the gardens and the bird feeders but I haven't heard what you are doing for your little kittie. I so hope you have been able to continue caring for her or have found someone who can help. I have been in many situations like this in my life where I had assumed responsibility and care for unwanted animals and was also facing challenges from other less caring people who wanted to thwart my efforts. It is so upsetting. Hoping all is well for you and that your efforts reap the results that you are intending and have every right to. Blessings Wendy Olstad
ReplyDeleteHi Wendy,
DeleteGinger, the feral kitty, is fine for the moment. I have taken away all signs of my caring for her and have encouraged her to come inside for her meals. Of course she immediately wants out when finished. It is warm enough here now that she does not need the cottage. She sleeps on my scooter seat which is parked under my window on the mini porch. My two closest neighbors like her so are keeping my secret that she is still being cared for.
Ginger is 10. Always lived here. I doubt she could be re-homed. She is spayed, vaccinated, I keep her wormed and apply flea and tick prevention. Thanks for the concern.
C