Stories from the farm

After our photography session with Carmalee and family in Camrose, we stopped by my parent's farm for a supper picnic.

Gabe and Isaac were hanging out with Nana Mae


My dad and I chatted on the lawn. The lilacs were in full bloom and standing beside them, we could hear the entire tree buzzing. I'd been worried about the bees, but seeing the masses of different types of bees on the tree (about 3 bees per flower head) made me relax a little.

I'm no macro photographer (that's a skill - and a lens requirement - that I need to work on), but I wanted to share these pictures. There's a couple different types of bees in there, including a ginger one, with no black. If you look closely, you can see the ball of pollen they're carrying on their legs.

This is a story about our brave, brave Odie, who was upgraded to heroic status last spring. He's about 12 years old and his job is to guard the sheep (after the experiement with Duddly the Donkey failed. Instead of guarding the sheep, Duddly would chase them and bite them, leaving tufts of wool all over the pasture - he is now relegated to the back pasture with the cows who can fight back when he gets miserable with them).

Odie patrols the sheep at night, keeping them safe from coyotes. One morning, my father found 5 dead coyotes.

Despite his super-toughness in guarding, he is the sweetest dog. During the day he lazes around on the porch and will roll over for anyone willing to scratch his tummy, but other than that refuses to be groomed.

Last spring, my dad realised he hadn't seen Odie for a day or two (a day is not unusual, as Odie might go off on patrol for a bit). He later caught sight of Odie in a field lying still and acting a bit odd. He didn't think much of it, until another half day later, when Odie still hadn't returned to the yard. He knew something was wrong, and took the wheelbarrow and gun out to the field. Odie was lying in the field, covered in blood, with two sets of huge claw marks in his backside, like he'd been jumped by a cougar or a bear (I had no idea they were around in Central Alberta, but apparently they are.) Knowing how long Odie had been out there, and his age, my dad knew there was not a great chance of Odie surviving. He lifted the gun and looked in Odie's eyes and was brought up short. He said it was if Odie was saying to him you are not going to shoot me.

Somehow he managed to get Odie (who must weigh nearly 200 lbs) into the wheelbarrow and got him back to the farm. Now, Odie is a dog who walks around with dagos on his butt, permanently. He refuses to be groomed, and when a dog who is 200lbs and can kill 5 coyotes in an evening growls at you, you skip the grooming.

Back at the farm, my dad spent the next 4 hours shaving Odie's back, picking magots out, and injecting penicillin into each claw mark, some of which were as deep as his bones. Odie never whined or growled or whimpered. He just let my dad heal him. Then my dad tried to shave the dagos. And Odie growled.

That was last year, and Odie is still going strong.

(This story always makes me weepy, at Odie's braveness, his will to survive and the bond my dad's dogs have with him - they know their man. For my readers who haven't been around farming, it might seem a cruel, that my dad had made the descision to put Odie down, but on a farm, with hundreds (altogether) of animals, you have to make the call as to who gets to go to the vet, and who doesn't, taking into account their ages and the work they do. And my dad's a soft-hearted man. I remember him making my mom take off the chicken's heads, because he gets so sentimental about the animals.)

Here is our brave, brave Odie.

After our picnic, the neighbours let my dad know the calves were out on the road. Its so dry, the electic fence doesn't work and the calves are hungry for grass, and push right through the fence. My dad called Scott, (his border collie), we went out in the truck, and Scott rounded up the calves and chased them back into the pasture.

Then back to the farm, looking for the fencing supplies, and back out to the feild (this is at 9:30 at night). Gabriel was quite thrilled to be helping his Grampy fix the fence.

Isaac supervising.

And Gabe my litter collector. He's quite passionate about litter, and even told some "big" kids (i.e. teenagers) in the park to stop littering.

This was one of those magical Alberta summer evenings. Light until nearly midnight, so dry there are no mosquitos and a mellow evening hanging out with family.