Jersey Fever

Oh goodness, people.

We sold Ofelia about 10 days ago for a fraction of what we paid for her.

"It was a good lesson" we reminded ourselves over and over again. What the lesson was, I'm not quite sure, but it was a good one nonetheless.

Just as we were happily settling down to our carefree and easy cowlessness, SHE came along.

She's very reasonably priced.

And she's currently producing milk. An actual honest to goodness lactating milk cow! Imagine that!

We haven't handed over any checks, signed any papers, dotted any i's or crossed any t's, but my husband didn't out and out say "No!" either. We're ruminating over it, so to speak.

Here we go again?

Ofelia's Fate Revealed

Well....

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No real surprise, actually. Poor Ofelia isn't pregnant.

HOWEVER, I really can't bear to eat my first milk cow. No, we never got a drop of milk out of her, but she was awfully cute, she gave me hope for being a milk maid, and she was a mascot of sorts for the farm.

So we cancelled her date with the butcher and are sending an infertile beef heifer in her place. No, Ofelia's not going to retire and live out the end of her days with us. We are going to sell her at the cow sale, where, most likely, she will ultimately meet her maker... but she won't be buried in our freezer.

Who knows? Maybe somebody will buy her as a dairy cow and give her another go! Good luck, Ofelia.

Date With Fate

Poor Ofelia, our dry milk cow.

She is going to be preg tested this Friday.

The results of her test will determine whether I clean out my freezer or call to cancel her butcher appointment on November 29th.

She's such a cute cow, and she has a lot of personality. It will be dreadfully sad, but a milk cow who can't have calves (and thus produce milk) is a useless eater on a farm.

Sometimes farmy life isn't much fun.

A Farm Life Vignette

Somebody, large, fat, and snoopy couldn't handle her Atkins diet anymore.

She's been surreptitiously watching my husband open the coop door each day, as he gives the chubby biddies their ample ration of grain.

There have been loud complaints from the ungrateful ungulate about the fact that she only has pasture and hay, when what she really needs to maintain her sleek physique are some hearty whole grains.

As she's failed to produce a single drop of milk, which is her sole purpose in life, her complaints have largely fallen upon deaf ears.

So she took matters into her own... hooves.

At an undisclosed hour, the roguish ruminant unlatched the coop door, and squished her fat belly through the frame, ignoring the terrified tremors and flying feathers of the petrified poultry, focused fully on getting her carb fix. She indulged. She glutted.

But she was caught, bread handed, by the farmer.

A strong line of electric fencing has now been attached to the coop. She'll be in for a shock next time she heads for the bread box.