Homestead Life


Had a few visitors this weekend to see the new foal. Two cute little girls who were, as I predicted, enamored of little Trinket for about 20 minutes—I think that included time spent petting some of the other horses. They were not interested in the least in shoveling manure, which was no surprise, haha! But they did listen while I explained lunchtime feeding and helped carry hay.

They wanted to ride in the Mule, naturally, but we only went down the road and back because I needed to check on the neighbor’s property. When they said they wanted to go farther and longer, I told them that this was a work Mule and that there were always chores to do on a farm.

That’s not to say we don’t ever take time off, but it has to be planned and of course, we’re at the mercy of the weather. For instance, this morning I had a lot of the aforementioned manure to shovel, and tomorrow it’s supposed to a lot warmer with rain predicted in the afternoon. So it has to be done today.

We can’t always just sit around or run into town for the day or take a nap.

Next up, they wanted to see the cabin we’re building. I took them inside, gave them the so-called tour, and about ten minutes later they wanted to go back and play inside because it’s “cool.” Points for the coolness, but there are a lot of tools and things lying around, so again, no, sorry, it’s not a playhouse.

I must be a grumpy old woman . . .

And of course, with a new baby, things have to be kept fairly slow and quiet. Charm is, after all, a wild mustang who is far from being completely domesticated. She’s nervous, baby is running around a lot to keep up with her, and I’m trying to minimize stress on the little sprite. And Mama.

Hmmm. I may also still be grumpy . . .

Now, like I said, we don’t work all the time; or maybe we do. Having horses, or any livestock, is kind of like having pets. They all need to be fed, usually twice a day or more, but pets live in your house and livestock is, of course, out in the weather. Litter boxes need to be cleaned, yes, and dogs need to be walked or taken outside and both need time and attention. But with horses, particularly, there are more chances of accident or injury, and they seriously need to be cleaned up after A LOT. Ergo, the manure issue.

It’s not easy, sometimes, when it’s freezing cold or pouring rain, to shovel manure and put out hay, so you have to do those things on your better-weather days, regardless of what else is going on. Same goes for cutting firewood or doing vehicle maintenance, or just cleaning up around the place.

Of course, drive down any country road and you’ll see folks who don’t care about that last one—we’re not like that. We don’t take the luxury of naps whenever we want, and there are times we don’t “feel” like doing something, but usually you can’t just let things slide.

If you’re thinking of homesteading, you better be sure you have the fortitude and energy to make things work. Not only will you fail if you don’t, but you’ll be miserable regardless.

A really good test is to spend some time with friends who homestead or farm. I don’t mean going as a guest, but stay for a few days and pitch in—expect to work hard, and to be given direction on how to do so, and then think long and hard about doing these things day in and day out.

Here’s a typical day on our farm:

We get up around 6:00 a.m. Yes, every day. We don’t sleep until 10:00, even on weekends. We’re adults, after all. Yes, we drink coffee and check our email and read or listen to the news—have to keep up on any potential zombie uprising, after all!

We feed the horses—not just dumping food in a dish or bowl, but measuring out feed as per each horse’s need which has to do with condition, weight, and age. We have to throw out hay, about 30 pounds’ worth or so, in two different paddocks right now because we have the “nursery.” We fill water troughs, or sometimes have to break the ice on them, depending on the weather.

The dog and cat are fed and the house picked up, regular housekeeping chores attended to throughout the morning, laundry done, and meals planned and eaten and cleaned up after, just like regular people.

Some days, we shovel that dang manure, clean water troughs, and move the horses to the pasture for a couple hours. Most days, we have training schedules to work on domestication and learning to be useful horses, e.g., brushing, leading, halter training, barn training, standing still, picking up feet, and carrying a saddle.

Our current project is the cabin, so there’s work to be done there, but the pond project will be on hold until spring. Right now, we’re winterizing the campsite, barn, shop, and house, plus the greenhouse needs tending and firewood needs to be cut. A few other small projects need finishing up, and as always, there’s maintenance, like fence repair.

We do go to town, at least once a week for groceries and horse feed, usually another time or two for hay or parts we need to make repairs or for projects. Each trip takes away from our usual work for at least 90 minutes—the nearest towns are a half-hour drive just to get there, before running errands. Not like in the city or the ‘burbs where you can just run to the store in ten minutes.

Now, before you think it’s all just drudgery, I’ll also tell you that sure, we watch TV or a movie in the evenings, we take breaks during the day, and we do try to take it easy at least one day a week—but some things have to be done every single day, no matter if you feel up to it or not, if it’s snowing or not, if you’d rather go somewhere or whatever. You can’t call in sick, or even tired.

Maybe this is why I’m grumpy . . . But hey, we chose this. And unlike some folks, we knew what we were getting into. A lot of people don’t, and when faced with all the hard work, they give up. It doesn’t mean they move back into town, they simply stop doing anything—and their homesteads or farms reflect that.

People who live in the cities and ‘burbs give up too. Maybe they don’t pitch in around the house and instead lay in bed all day. Maybe they whine about how “bad” they feel, even if there’s not much wrong with them. Maybe they don’t value their relationships, or any other part of their lives.

And if they want to do that, fine. You only have one life, and you have a lot of choices throughout that life. Make the best ones for you, but also for the people in your life; you don’t get to just check out and let someone else pick up the slack, whether it’s your significant other or the government. Have a little pride in yourself and your life.

Not everyone wants to live on a homestead and do hard physical labor, and that’s okay. SOMEONE needs to process my Amazon orders, amiright? 😉

 

Farm Animals


I like animals, but I don’t consider myself an animal rescuer or a fanatic. Guess it’s because I grew up on a farm.

On a farm, dogs are for companionship, hunting, and protection of livestock—or people. Cats are mousers, usually in the barn. Horses are for work or for fun. None of these things mean that you can’t love them and take care of them. Some dogs, like my Kura, are more . . . decorative. Some cats are more cuddly—mine is a Maine Coon and he is so not about cuddling. He hunts. He stays out in all kinds of weather, but he does come in from time to time, especially to eat.

As you know, I “rescued” my mustangs. They were in a bad situation, and I was able to help. I maybe should have stopped at two, or definitely at four, but now I can’t imagine not having all of them.

That doesn’t mean I can rescue any more, or even help out that much with donations. I made a commitment to these five, and any accompanying offspring. It’s heartbreaking to see so many in need, but I have to be smart about this.

Unlike some people, I do not consider goats or cows or pigs to be pets—they are livestock. *Disclaimer: if I had a cute, cuddly Dexter or Highland cow, I’d likely consider her a pet; but we’re talking a hypothetical milk cow, not a steer.

When I was little, Gramps raised pigs. Fall was butchering time. Some hogs, he’d send to market; one of them was mine. I’d read Charlotte’s Web, so my pig was named Wilbur. He was cute—and when Gramps took him to market, I earned $10. That’s the way a farm works. He’d spin in his grave knowing that some people keep pigs as pets . . .

At my dad’s farm, dogs weren’t pets at all. They slept on the back porch whenever they weren’t needed for hunting, never came in the house as far as I knew. Cats lived in the barn. When I was older, I’d sneak kittens in the house through my bedroom window. Mom was adamant that no cats EVER be in her house—but once I was found out, she changed her mind and has had a cat ever since. The house kind.

Also, I may be a bit squeamish about wildlife. Eating them, that is. I love to watch the deer up around the house, but not sure how I’d feel about someone shooting one of them. Other deer, fine, but not “mine!” Turkey, dove, quail—these are, obviously, birds, and everyone knows how I feel about birds. Fire away!

For the record, I’ve eaten venison, squirrel, and raccoon. Not a fan, but I was a kid, and kids had to eat whatever they were served.

Some wildlife I consider pests. Rabbits, squirrels, and racoons, to be specific. Yes, we shoot raccoons that come in the barn. They carry rabies and three of my horses are not vaccinated. Truthfully, I don’t mind so much if they come in out of the cold, but poop in my barn—let alone my tack room—and you are toast. Period.

There are limits when it comes to animals. Livestock should be useful or sold. Or eaten, if you get right down to it. You can’t keep letting animals breed and keep them all—why in the world would you keep ten chickens and five roosters? Or two goats who lead to six goats and more? These are not pets. They’re farm animals.

Indiscriminate breeding is a bad, bad thing. There are plenty of animals who need homes; creating more is irresponsible. Particularly, of course, if you plan to keep them all. We’ve all heard stories of animal hoarders and it’s heartbreaking. My mustangs came from such a place.

It’s all well and good if you can afford it—and by that, I mean you should be able to afford feed and basic vet care without begging for money or going bankrupt. If you’re set up as a rescue, you still need to have the space and facilities and should, in my opinion, be able to provide the basics even if donations are slow to arrive. It’s kind of like all the GoFundMe projects that we’re all flooded with.

There’s one gal on my social media feed, who I barely know and with whom I have no relationship whatsoever, that was asking for donations to geld a colt. That’s pretty basic, and costs maybe $200, depending on what part of the country you’re in, and is something a rescue should have prepared for. Again, my opinion.

Would I have liked to have Cavalry stay intact? Of course. He’s a doll, good conformation and a great temperament and personality. Flashy, too. But he’d have to live apart from the mares or I’d be overrun with foals. I’m not a breeder, even though I once thought, a long time ago, that I’d do that if I had the chance.

This one tiny filly has me terrified—I check on her constantly and haven’t slept well for a week . . .

And I’ve had two people mention interest in breeding him to their mares. Nope. Even if he hadn’t been gelded, no, for the very reasons I’ve already touched upon.

On the other hand, if I’d had another Catnip mare here, I would have been sorely tempted!