Corn Harvest 2017

Mouse Droppings

Sunny, 48 degrees
Humidity 40%
Dew Point: 36 degrees
Wind: S @ 5 mph
Forecast: Warming

Mouse droppings. Country people don’t like to see mouse droppings. They especially don’t like to see them in a kitchen cabinet.
Farm cats on the other hand like to see mouse droppings. Mouse droppings mean there is a mouse around. Mouse droppings in a kitchen cabinet means there’s a mouse in the house. A mouse in the house means it’s time to hunt in the house….except
farm cats, at least on our farm, are not allowed in the house.  Despite an outstanding record of eliminating mouse droppings.
Check the old red barn, or the barn formerly known as the milk-barn, or the Quonset or the Shed, or the area around the grain bins, or any empty grain bin, no mouse droppings.
No mouse droppings because there are no mice. Fortunately for a mouse in the house, cats can’t come in. Of course, as is often pointed out, neither can cows, horses, mules and dogs. That makes sense.
But cats?
Farm cats take their job seriously. Very seriously. Especially their commitment to eliminate mouse droppings.  Farm cats will stop any other activity, even eating fish, if they notice a mouse. There is something central that is instantly activated when a farm cat sees or hears a mouse. And a farm cat can hear a mouse in the best built wall. A farm cat will sit beside a mouse hole for hours on end. Eyes closed, breathing in and out. A master of meditation. To all external appearances sound asleep. But one little scratch from a mouse claw, even if its deep inside the wall will bring a farm cat’s eyes to sharp green focus.
Totally aware.
Totally alert….without a hair moving.
Of course, no mouse droppings mean no mice. No mice helps to keep snakes away. At least snakes big enough to eat a mouse. The little snakes that eat bugs are no worry. Farm cats can get those with ease. But big snakes are people and dog work.
Occasionally one of the dogs will get bored and go sniffing in the drainage ditch by the road. Snakes of all sizes use the drainage ditch as a highway to go from field to field. If one of the dogs finds a snake out in the ditch they seem to be compelled to boost their reputation.
It is a site to behold.
The dog bounces and springs like a one-year old kitten. All to try and get the snake and not get got by the snake. The dog dances all around and on the snake. Barking for all they are worth. Ordinarily, the snake is just passing through. It has no intention of coming into the yard.
No mice to eat.
But the dog is obligated to see it through. News of the fight spreads like a prairie wild fire. Any cat or dog that is free rushes to the scene. Abandoning whatever chores they are doing to come to the show.
And show it is.
Very entertaining but a waste of talent.
Farm dogs are vital in chasing away coyotes, badgers and raccoons. A couple of dogs barking keep coyotes well out of the farm yard. Usually a field or two away.
Badgers will often pass right by the farm. Only coming in the yard on a dare or bet. Badgers are the tyrannosauruses of the farm cat world. They’re ferocious and will take after a farm cat just for fun. It takes a big dog to take on a badger.
Raccoons are not as dangerous as badgers but they won’t back down from a fight. The best thing for a farm cat to do around a raccoon is run. Last Summer Shadow, the lead farm dog, took on a raccoon who ventured too near the yard. Shadow won. Word spread quickly. All of the farm cats stopped by to see Shadow with his vanquished foe and give him a heartfelt meow.
Generally, the only place where mice can be found at the farm is in Grandma’s house. Since no animals are allowed in the house the people resort to old wood snap traps. They work fairly well but they usually only get 37% of the mice.
However….
if seven of the best farm cat ‘mousers’ were allowed the run of the house for a night there would be no mice. 100%.  Just two mousers would clean out the house in a few days.
And it is well known that cats are clean. They are also very conscientious about carcasses. When farm cats get a mouse, they take it back to the clowder for show and tell. (Our farm cats prefer that the group be called a clowder rather than a glaring. Glaring seems more appropriate for city cats).
Over the years several farm cats have offered to abandon the free life of the farm yard to move into a house. There was even talk a few years ago of setting up a cat/dog rotation schedule. The dogs were strong advocates. It was easy to see that the dogs could only see as far as the end of their nose. And a dog nose ‘sees’ house duty as warmth and food and people and sleeping on a rug and people and chew toys and people. Farm cats don’t care much for people. For farm dogs staying in the house is lazy luxury. For farm cats staying in the house is an opportunity to expand one’s skills.
But the animal house rotation was a non-starter. On our farm people live inside. Animals live outside. Except for an occasional mouse or two.

 

Immediate Dogs

Sunny, 48 degrees
Humidity 40%
Dew Point: 36 degrees
Wind: S @ 5 mph
Forecast: Warming

We hang around on Bruce & Joyce’s back porch.
It has a good view of the farm drive. Not only the driveway and road but also Grandma’s back door. If anyone is working on equipment, or putting gas in a vehicle, or going somewhere, or walking into Grandma’s house it’s easy to see from The porch.
The porch is right off the kitchen. We get treats from time to time and this is the best place to get them. A lot of grilling happens on The porch. The smell of cooking meat is a sure sign that a treat or two is in the wind.
Bruce also grills in the Quonset. A lot of stuff happens in the Quonset. Repair work, welding, basketball, talking, if we’re not hanging around on The porch then look for us in the Quonset. It can get dicey when there is grilling on The porch and people working in the Quonset.
What’s a dog to do?
The younger dogs, especially the ‘hunting’ dogs, run from porch to Quonset and back.
And back.
And back.
It’s fun to watch. Wisdom comes with age they say. And the more mature dog knows that it’s the people who hand out the treats. Not the grill. So, hang around in the Quonset. When the people go to The porch….go to The porch.
Another reason to hang with the people during grilling is that the grill can be outright dangerous. It usually takes a burned nose or two before a pup realizes its best to wait a few feet away from the grill. Even if the human is at the grill playing with the meat.
There is usually a fair amount of fish at the farm. Dogs don’t usually get to go fishing. Cats never. But when the truck and boat pull out of the drive it’s time to get chores done. Make a last reconnaissance or two of the outside edge of the farm. Stop by The porch. Get a drink. Bark at a cat.  Head down to the Quonset.
When the truck and boat come home from the lake the show begins. Everyone heads to the barn. For years it was the milk-barn. But the milk cows have all left the farm. Now the barn is a gathering place. A man cave as they say. A place to get an occasional treat. The barn is where the fish cleaning is done. And sometimes cooked.
Cooked or not the fish that doesn’t get frozen is given to us. Of course, you have to wait until all of the cleaning is done. But the humans always come through….everyone gets some fish.
Only the most mature dogs get to stay inside the barn for the cleaning. Everyone else is outside.  A few older dogs choose to stay outside; that’s where the dinner show is held. The cats are the star. They sing and jump and cry and try to get to the already cut up fish. Even the older cats just can’t maintain their pretentious posture. The lure of fresh fish is just too overwhelming. The pups get caught up in the excitement and immediately jockey for a position ahead of the cats. Dogs who have been around the farm for a while know that the fish will be distributed to all and not at all until the cleaning is done. But it is hard on the pups who are still in their immediate stage.
There is something immediate about dogs. Even older dogs.
If a human says ‘We’ll go for a walk soon’, all a dog hears is ‘walk’. And assume that means walk right now. It takes a few years of living with humans for dogs to start to understand that humans often throw around terms like, food, walk, ride, cat, dinner, etc. to describe things that may happen in the future. Dogs naturally assume that all words are present tense. Right now, present tense.
Cats. Well cats are different. We’re not even sure if they understand words. Certainly, if cats see or hear the truck and boat come into the yard they run to the barn and start making a lot of noise. Other cats are attracted by the noise. Trying to actually follow what a cat is saying is impossible. Even cats can’t follow ‘cat’. It’s just noise.
Cats make two noises. Meow and Purr.
They purr when they are happy. They meow to express all other thoughts and feelings.  There is an occasional screech but this is just a meow gone bad.
The only dog whoever tried to understand ‘cat’ is Max. But that story needs to wait….a truck just rolled up the drive.

 

Two mules for Lone Tree Farm

Sunny, 84 degrees
Humidity 32%
Dew Point 55 degrees
Wind SW @ 5 mph
Forecast: Sun

John and Jan are getting a couple of mules. Dolly and Daniel. They will be somewhat for riding. Somewhat for work.
Just South of the house, John is building a pole barn for the mules. It is open on the South Side. Well a third of it is open. The middle third. The other two thirds are covered by reclaimed sliding doors that used to be on the milk barn. Which is now the house.
Working on the mules’ pole barn got me to thinking about Andrew Jackson. Not ‘Old Hickory’ the U.S. President, but Andrew Jackson the mule. I lived with him, the mule that is, for a while in the days of my youth. Andrew Jackson was more mountain than mule. He stood 19 hands and was built like a diesel locomotive. He reminded me of a Cub Scout pinewood derby car that is still a rectangular block with a few whittled edges to show where the front is going to be.
Andrew Jackson was the epitome of the ‘mule headed’ stereotype. But as long as you walked up to Andrew Jackson respectfully, explained what was needed he would inevitably follow you wherever you needed to go.
One trick i learned from hanging around Arkansas mules is the maneuver of ‘hopping’ over a fence. Many folks i knew would take their mules out deer hunting. Northwest Arkansas, where we lived, is covered with mountains. The mountains are covered with trees. And everywhere is crisscrossed with fences. Mule folks can walk their mule up to a fence and with a few quick flicks of the lead rope the mule will take two steps, rear back on his hind legs and leap over the fence, kind of like a deer.
Mules don’t have to run up to the fence like a horse.
Admittedly Andrew Jackson, the mule, had the tendency to just walk through a fence. If he didn’t break the wire he would push on it until it was taut enough to pop a bunch of fence post staples. Sometimes pull a few fence posts out of the ground. Eventually the fence would become slack enough that he could step over the tangled-up wire.
I’ve never seen, or heard of, anyone hunting with mules in Western Kansas. In fact, the general response is ‘Do what?’
But maybe folks will show more interest if we can train Dolly and Daniel, well Daniel. Dolly is 15 hands and has that look like she would rather walk through a fence. Daniel, although smaller, loves to be around people. Loves when people pay their attention to him. If jumping over a fence was a people pleaser, Daniel will probably be onboard with the idea. Hunters too….once they see Daniel carrying a deer back to the truck.

 

Coffee with the boss

Sunny, 19 degrees
Humidity 45%
Dew Point 14 degrees
Wind NNW @ 24 mph
Sunny, high 50 degrees

Bruce is over for coffee. And conversation.
It has become a ritual of sorts. I set up the coffee in the evening. Grounds in the filter. Water in the pot. Bruce comes in the morning. About 6:30. Pours the water from the pot into the coffee maker, making just enough noise to announce that he is in the kitchen. But not too much noise.
Bruce is very considerate of the folks staying at Grandma’s house. Early in the morning he quietly fixes coffee and stays in the kitchen. If it is later in the day he walks in and announces his presence with a loud ‘Hello. Anybody home.  Joyce does this too.’ Now that i think about it Jan & John also do this. So, does Curt, our plumber. Maybe this is just farm country manners. Most farm homes are unlocked. So are most vehicles. Equipment too.
Folks out here say there is no reason to lock a home from burglars. Homes are often a mile or two, even more, from the next place. If someone wants to rob you, and there is no one around to stop them, locks won’t keep them out. Leaving the place unlocked also makes it easier for folks to drop off stuff. Tools. Clothes. Pans. Pans with pies in them. If someone is being neighborly enough to bring something by, it’s just neighborly to leave the door open for them.
And it just makes sense to leave the keys in the equipment, trucks, cars, four-wheeler. This is a working farm. And things often need to be moved. So, trucks, cars and four-wheelers may need to be moved out of the way.
Truthfully burglaries don’t happen much. The best protection out here in farm country, is that this is farm country. Folks may stop by any time. Out here if you have a few minutes on your way to the rest of the day, you go ahead and pull in the drive and say hi. Even if we are doing something we’ll take time to talk, or put you to work. If folks don’t have time to stop they at least take notice of what is going on. Who’s in the yard. Who’s trucks are in the drive. Farm people just naturally pay attention to the land and what’s happening on it.
For the first cup of coffee in the morning, conversation usually centers around what happened last night. Or yesterday.
Hear that short rain about 1 am?
No but i heard Shadow chasing something out the drive about 3.
Sleep well?
Yes. Was up once and wrote for about an hour.  A story about a farm dog taking his nighttime guard duty too seriously.
The second cup of coffee is for the days plans. When we’ll start cutting. Errands that need to be run. Equipment that needs attention. Bruce always asks what i need to do. Write? Go to town? Projects around the farm?
Over the years i have noticed that Bruce doesn’t take advantage of his help.  At home or in the field. It has always been ‘this is what i need to do’ and ‘this is when i could use some help’. Today Bruce wants to start cutting about 1130. Over on the Henry ground again. We’ve been there two days now. Although this is corn harvest and we could start anytime Bruce wants to give both John and i time to do what we need to do before committing to a day in the field. . Since this is my last day at corn harvest i need to get some clothes packed. Break down my bike and put it in the car’s trunk. Wash the sheets and towels i’ve been using. Straighten up the house for the next folks. In this case Pam, Don and Michelle will be stopping by in a few weeks on the way to a wedding.
By the third cup of coffee the discussion turns to the Golden Corral in Hays. For years beyond my count, on the last day of harvest Bruce takes ‘the crew’, and any family who are around, to the Golden Corral in Hays.  I half-heartedly protested that, although it is my last day, there are a few days of corn harvest in front of us. Bruce pulls rank.  We’re going to stop cutting about 5:30 and head to the Corral.
Yep, without a doubt, the best boss i’ve ever known.

 

Cat Confusion

 Monday Night
Sunny, 53 degrees
Humidity 50%
Dew Point 68 degrees
Wind S @ 9 mph
Forecast: Sunny

Back at the Farm for corn harvest.
It has been 25, maybe 30, years since i’ve seen corn harvested. Maybe longer. In fact i don’t’ know if I’ve ever seen corn harvested. But now that i’m retired….well there is time to make a Fall trip to the farm.
It was almost 11pm when i pulled into the drive at the farm.
Getting out of the car i heard several woofs. Heidi and Stache. But once i yelled hello and called them by name they settled down. At least Heidi did. Every few minutes Stache gave another bark. He’s a young dog. Heidi, on the other hand, has learned the marvels of sleep.
As quiet stumbled back on the farm i heard cats. Lots of cats and their vocal harmonies were atrocious. I had been listen to a recording of Cats (the musical) ever since Hays. Phone/car blue tooth connections are incredible.  Of course, my skill at using the car/phone onscreen buttons is a little lacking. Near Salina i had put on Mustard Plug (hard rockin’ ska music). By the time i got to Salina i was pretty jazzed up, so i decided to keep the punk rock/ska feeling going by listening to The Clash the rest of the way home. Pushing the onscreen car buttons got me Cats (the Broadway musical).  Not quite The Clash. But i let it play. When Hilary was four she saw a video of the Cats musical. We had to get a copy of the video.  And played it 3,272 times. I know all the songs and can easily visualize all of the stage movement. I let memories fill the car.
Standing next to the car in the farmyard drive i quickly realized that it was unfair to expect four-part harmony and choreography from our farm cats. But just having the cats run up to me is almost as unusual as farm cats doing a musical. Cats are usually very leery of me. This was certainly the first-time cats have run to meet me. Especially at night.  I’m not really a cat person. Definitely more of a dog man.  And i must exude some dog liking hormones, because most cats walk away from me.
But here were cats running up. To me!
After i got over the shock i figured it was appropriate to at least try and say something friendly.
‘Hey kitty, kitty’.
Apparently, this was the right thing for the occasion. They came right up to my feet and started purring. Even the cats who were hanging around the edge of the crowd scurried up.
As i bent down to be more on their level they froze. Started backing up.
They realized that i am not Jan. Or John. Our encounter was strictly mistaken identity.  I usually drive the Sequoia to the farm, but this time i was in our car. From a cat’s point of view, our car looks a lot like John & Jan’s car.
I laughed.
The cats, however, didn’t seem to see the humor of the situation, and backed away.
giving me a disrespectful meow as they moved off. They didn’t run away. Although they had made a mistake, running up to receive a treat, they certainly were not going to dignify the situation by demonstrating any excitement. We quickly reestablishing our usual dynamic of mutual toleration.
About this time Shadow showed up. He was standing on the East side of the Quonset, just outside of the yard light. I tried again.
‘Hey Shadow dog’.
He bounded right up. Tail in high gear. Leaned into my legs so he could be scratched. I’m definitely a dog person.
Who needs cats anyway.
Shadow, eyes closed, smiling, seems to agree.