Prydelands Ranch Alpine and Boer Goats

One of my greatest frustrations with the average grocery store consumer is their belief that meat is somehow born on styrofoam, wrapped in plastic. This disconnect is further exacerbated by misinformation from media sources who are also so far removed from the farm they wouldn’t know a pitchfork from a hoe.

Recently agricultural author Burt Rutherford quoted veterinarian and president of Colorado State University, Dr. Tony Frank, in an article entitled “Finding Middle Ground In A Regulatory World” (March, 2012, beefmagazine.com), addressing consumer perception.

“Despite the fact that consumers are not very literate about where food comes from and how it’s produced, they have high expectations; and they're paying closer attention to what they eat and how it’s produced than ever before, Frank says. And, in many ways, that lack of knowledge is what is driving today’s regulatory environment.

It works something like this: consumers don’t really understand a lot about how food is produced, but they care about it a great deal. They don’t know the people who produce the product; the relationship is not there, so they’re not starting from a basis of trust.

So where do they turn? They turn to elected officials who also, increasingly, are none too knowledgeable and none too connected to animal agriculture, Frank says. “So the elected officials, very well intentioned, set up regulations designed around accountability and safety that respond to the needs of their constituents.”

Those rules go to a bureaucracy to be enforced and, over time, new rules get piled on top of old rules. That increases cost for both producers and consumers.

“Consumers now pay higher costs, so they have higher expectations for accountability,” Frank says. Producers push back because the cost of the regulations makes their long-term sustainability more tenuous.

“And now we have this negative spiral, people are pulling opposite directions. Constituents are wanting more, industry is wanting less, the regulators who thought they were helping everybody are trapped in the middle, and the elected officials aren’t pleased,” he says. “And we’re moving away from each other and giving up what I see is some very good common ground.”

I’m reminded of a joke once told of a government official who showed up at a farm demanding the right to inspect whatever he wished. The farmer gave the official the go-ahead but cautioned, “Look at everything you want but stay outta that pen over there”. The official retorted that he had a badge and that badge gave him the right to inspect whatever and where ever he wanted, and off he stomped to the very pen. He crawled over the fence and was immediately chased by an angry bull. While the official screamed for help the farmer just chuckled and yelled back, “Show him your badge!”

And therein lies the problem. The average citizen and consumer, media personality, and politician no longer realize the nature of agriculture. They want to feel good about consuming quality products, but pretend that manure, dehorning, castration and other unsavory parts of raising livestock don’t exist. The consumer no longer understands sleepless nights during kidding, lambing and calving when the rancher is making less than 6 cents an hour. They are completely disconnected from the realities of farming and ranching yet have increased expectations of product quality.

So how do we restore this common ground and reconnect consumers to the farm? Reconnecting farm to consumer happens in baby steps. Agritourism and farmers markets are more public displays. Casting our votes for ag-minded officials is another. How about ranch tours, school tours and supporting your local 4-H and FFA groups? Educational displays at fairs, sales and other venues can be productive. But one of the best ways happens in our own homes. As has been happening at hearths throughout American history, invite friends over for dinner. There is great pride in serving a well-prepared product that you have had a hand in from start to finish. In this more intimate setting, you can introduce guests to the pleasure of well-raised chevon.

Sit down and think out a plan to help the American farmer reconnect with its urban consumers. It is time to dispel the myths born on styrofoam, wrapped in plastic.

Dear City People, You know who you are.  You are the folks who "long for the country" as one magazine banner reads.  I'm not meaning to be unkind and far be if for me to crush any man's dreams. After all, we all need a little wiggle room to grow and become our true inner-selves.You dream every day of having a place of your own and that is okay.  The problem lies when you do have a place in the country that by deed you may own, but you haven't done a thing with besides plant a house in the middle. 

 I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but if the only thing you've ever broken ground for is landscaping and the only thing you've ever raised for production is a lap dog, you can have 800 acres deeded to you and you are still...a city person.  You are just in denial and wearing a country disguise.

 There are undeniably country souls trapped in cities all over the globe.  To them, my hat is off and I say, "welcome!".  It isn't your fault that your great granddaddy had to leave the farm after some big drought and the remainder of the generations got stuck on asphalt.  I can personally relate to that dilemma.  My little soap box rant is directed at those citified folks who move out to the country and then spend the rest of their time trying to make it exactly like the place they left - the city.

To those type of folks, I'd like to establish a few ground rules and come to some understandings.

#1 If you are going to move to the country, plan to actually use the land.  And don't be so surprised that I am actually using the land.  Using the land is what real country people do.  We are just funny that way.

#2  The country has smells.  I don't drive into the city and announce "Hey!  This asphalt-making really smells!   I think you all should rip up the asphalt and plant some pasture here in the city because tar-smell is offending my delicate sensibilities."  In good turn, please don't move to the country and say, "Hey!  It smells like (Insert here- cows, goats, pigs, fertilizer)!  I think you all should quit doing/raising whatever is making that smell because it is offending my delicate sensibilities."  I'll make you a deal.  If I don't like the smell of the city, I'll come back home to the country with my mouth shut.  And if you don't like the smells in the country, well, we gently invite you to do the same.

#3 Compost piles only stink the day they are turned. I laugh when I hear of the voters in San Francisco and Los Angeles pass a bill that says we should all compost because composting is GREEN! Then, when you turn the compost pile and it smells for a day, they have a hissy fit. Too bad sustainability affects their sensibilities. When a country person piles manure up for a year and turns it occasionally, it is not done as an affront to you. That pile will cook and break down and make the most amazing vegetables next spring. We'll be more than happy to share the bounty. But calm down and don't get your britches in a bunch on the day we turn the compost pile and it smells. As soon as the top layer dries out and forms a shell, it won't smell. Too bad being green is sometimes brown.

#4 Chickens are healthier when they free-range and they may just free-range on over to your house.  Now, I'm going to give it to you that you, as a city person, haven't had much chicken experience except eggs benedict or cordon blue.  Let me help you out a bit.  Chickens that free-range don't make manure in one place like chickens in a coop.  Manure in one place makes flies.  If you don't want to complain about the flies, than put up with a little chicken mud on your property from free-ranging birds.  Free-ranging birds also keep down the local bug population, scare off snakes on both our property and their eggs have 4X as much Omega-3s which are heart healthy.  Don't gripe about free-ranging chickens and I'll keep you in heart-healthy Omega rich eggs every day of the week.

#5  In the country, dogs bark.  For some reason this comes as a surprise to city people.  I'm pretty sure I have heard dogs bark in the city, so I'm not sure where your confusion comes from.  Most true country folks will be the first ones to give an obnoxiously barking dog the .22 treatment.  However, country dogs have a lot to worry about.  While you are sleeping, walking across your country property are deer, racoons, skunks, and more intimidating, bobcats, coyotes and mountain lions.  I got a nice little anonymous note in the mail once asking me to please keep my Livestock Guardian Dogs quiet at night.  It was addressed to "Dear Neighbor" and signed with a smiley face.  My first thought was we all must be in third grade when neighbors can't talk like adults, express some understanding on both ends and try to work it out.  I'm not big on anonymous smiley faces I guess.   We spent a week timing the dogs barking.  They only barked when the coyotes were running and yipping and they never barked for more than 10-15 minutes at a time.  One exception was the night the coyotes took down a yearling deer ON our fenceline and the dogs were working the fencelines like fiends keeping the coyote pack on the other side. 

We took pictures of the kill, our bark records and the smiley face note to the county animal control and turned ourselves in.  Yep, we had dogs that barked at night and this was why.  The animal control officer came out and looked over the lay of our land and left shaking her head at the idiocy of "city people".  The Federal Trapper came out and took a look at the lay of our land and told us said neighbor ought to be thanking us.  About the time they wrote their smiley face note, he had killed a young male mountain lion not 100 feet from our back fence.  It had been hunting the backside of all our properties.  He said our dogs are what probably held the lion across the creek and kept it from coming over and eating all the house dogs and cats in the area.  Much less the little kids. 

Hm.  If you live in the country, dogs are going to bark at night.  You might just send them a gift-wrapped bone for Christmas.

 #6  You know how kids whine when they are hungry?  Well, when we go out to feed the livestock twice a day, they are just like little kids and they are going to whine until their supper is put before them.  Once the hay is in the feeders they will shut up.  Just a suggestion, and this will work where the barking dogs are concerned too, turn on a fan in your bedroom at night and the "white noise" will cover up the farm noise.

#7 Yes, my kids will throw footballs on the front lawn, shriek during a game of tag, haul hay all night long in noisy trucks and have to leave for the fairgrounds at 4:30 am.  However, they will also never vandalize your home or property, speak disrespectfully to you, drink alcohol in our home, have scary friends over or end up in the prison system using up your tax money.  We do our best to keep them too busy to get in much trouble.  They may buck a bit like all colts do, but they will end up some of the soundest saddle horses ever.

So my dear city people, you may see us as noisy, messy, stinking neighbors.  We see ourselves as hardworking, god-fearing, good hearted folks trying to live up to our inner-selves out in the country.  If you want to join in, well then, "welcome!".  If you don't like us, well then, we gently invite you to leave.

     I have a niece that speaks fluent Spanish and was single until her late 20's.  Once she found a great deal on Travelocity or some such internet travel site, threw together a backpack and with my sister, took off for a week to Costa Rica.  I marvelled at how brave she was.  They wore khaki shorts and t-shirts and with her as their interpreter, stayed in hostels, wandered among the true people of the country, staying off the well-beaten paths and tourist traps.  My sweet, skinny little blond niece showed more courage and talent with her language skills and her bravado than I will ever have.  A part of me (okay a big part of me) felt a longing for that type of freedom.

     That type of freedom isn't part of farm living.  It is true that farmers are tied to the land.  Those ties sometimes bind pretty tight and having milking stock adds a couple of extra loops around the whole mess.  Add in five children and all of their schedules, demands and needs and just keep ratcheting the "ties that bind" down.  But like everything in life, the way you live is a choice and we have chosen to be ranchers.  But every now and then, as I imagine everyone does, we feel a desire to just get away. 

     Getting away however, is a logistical nightmare.  This year's family vacation plans actually began in January.  Our oldest daughter had announced her plan to serve a mission for our church so we knew that we only had the summer left before she went.  She and I ran across a newspaper article about new cabins built in the Lassen National Forest and thought it might be a nice place to have one last hurrah as a family.  We had to find a place on the calendar to book it between county fair, the open shows we were scheduled for, scout camp, the scout 50-miler, my responsibilities to judge other county fairs, our oldest son's welding internship, and my husband's work.  We also had to find a time that we could secure a housesitter who could take care of the house dogs, the guard dogs, the feeding/watering, the milking, the new kittens and all of crisis that could possibly arise with such a menagerie.

     By booking in January for a June get-away, we got a super price on a little bunkhouse cabin.  It was cheaper than a hotel room and only 100 feet from the lake.  We printed out a picture of our cabin and the lake and posted it on the refrigerator to dream about over the next several months. 

     As the time drew nearer, we asked a friend's daughter to house sit.  This was the right girl for the job.  Rebah is independent, steady and raised with milking stock.  She speaks "dog" and could handle whatever came along.  Unfortunately what came along was a long delay in her parent's planned road trip to sell goats and they left much later than intended.  Their understandable delay robbed us of our housesitter as she would be needed to take care of their milking stock, with only a few weeks until V-time (vacation time).  To add an additional monkey wrench, the economic recession had caused a cut back of employees at work so there was no one available to cover for my husband.

     I could see visions of canoeing on the lake dancing right out of my head.

     Not to be thwarted I began a scramble to save the family vacation. I begged and called in favors and arranged for coverage at work so Kevin could join us the last day and a half at the cabin.  I lined up a friend to do chores the night Kevin left and the morning after and planned to hotfoot it down the mountain to do chores that night.  Another friend's daughter agreed to stay overnight if needed, but we managed to not bump into her schedule (although my appreciation goes out - thanks Ciera!).

     Our oldest son really pitched in and helped pack up the bikes, sleeping bags, firewood, canoe, fishing rods and other camping gear.  All the daughters packed food totes, washed clothes and packed duffle bags for each member of the family.  We looked like the Clampetts from the Beverly Hillbillies traveling up the mountain.  All we needed was Grandma in a rocking chair up on top of the ranch truck.  We actually invited my mom, but she wasn't too game on riding up on top (kidding Mom! We love you!) nor was she excited about having to walk to the loo in the middle of the night - I found this a challenge myself.

     Poor Kevin got the job of getting up early to milk, feed and care for the stock - then doing it again after work.  We solved the problem of the house dogs feeling the need to come in and out all day by banishing them to Grandma and Grandpa Pryde's back yard with the nice covered patio.  We told them they were going to sleep away camp, dropped them off and drove away.  They are dogs after all, they won't die having to sleep on a covered sun patio rather than under the bed in the boys room.

     I trusted that Mama Kitty could handle her own brood of kittens as I had enough to worry about.  And away we went.

     I've never been so glad to have my oldest son in the scouting program.  That young man can start a fire and whip up hot chocolate lickety-split.  Without my husband around, he really stepped up to the plate and took care of all the women-folk.  He also spent a lot of time riding his bike around the camping area standing on rocks to try and get reception so he could text his girlfriend.  I think it was a fair trade for the awesome hot chocolate he made.

     (Note: To get the best cell reception in Lassen National Park, go to the Eskimo Peak Snowpark parking lot and climb a tree about 30 feet up.  You get two bars.  But don't get caught as the Rangers have a problem if the bark gets marred.  Don't tell them I told you this.  I got the information from a USFS Firefighter stationed in the park and he is right, it works. Our oldest son also says there is a rock in front of the Discovery Station where you can get one bar.)

     We spent the days canoeing around the lake getting lures wet.  We never had a single bite, but both the little girls learned to cast with an open reel and tie their own (barbless) hooks on.  We all got our exercise chasing our two year old and we all learned that the sounds of a temper tantrum travels well in the woods.  We were very glad the cabin was well-insulated both because it was very warm at night and also so we could put a screaming two-year old on a bunk in time-out and not disturb the neighboring cabins....very much.

     The bikes came in handy and the kids rode to the park museum, the discovery center, the auditorium, the camp store, various trails and of course, certain rocks that gave good phone reception. 

     Our oldest daughter bought her sisters matching mood rings and the girls went to a Junior Firefighter course and a Junior Ranger course.  We made friends with the camp director who ended up being of the same religious persuasion as we are and he joined us for pancakes and peaches for dinner one night.

     Twice we ate an amazing tin-pan dinner of cut up squash, onion, potatos and turkey meat balls seasoned and cooked in the coals.  Also on the menus were burgers and dogs, watermelon, sloppy joes, muffins, bagels, pancakes, yogurts, and LOTS of s'mores.  I made it a practice to bath the baby in the dishpan at around 8:00 each night, read him stories in the cabin and sing him to sleep.  During this, our oldest son would stoke up the fire and the girls would get out the s'more fixins.  Not to leave him out, but a two-year old has a knack for falling into firerings or getting burned on s'mores, so we decided it was fun he would have to wait for in his future.  We tried to tell ghost stories but no one could seem to remember exactly how they went so we settled on talking around the fire each night under the tall dark trees and brilliant stars.

     We took lots of naps and basically restored ourselves and slowed down a bit for just a few days.  My oldest son and I had gone down to the shore to lose some more lures when Dad got there on the second to last day.  The middle princesses raced down to the shore screaming "Daddy's here!" (so much for the fishing...although I doubt they were to blame).  We were all so happy to have him share the cabin, dinner and s'mores as well as have an extra hand in toddler-wrangling.

     No vacation can be complete euphoria or we would never come home, so of course, the baby came down with croup that night and I got a nice batch of bronchitis brewing.  This put a damper on our final day...and after we had all waited so long to have Daddy with us!  I packed up the baby and myself and with our oldest son sitting shotgun, we three headed down the mountain early.  Dad spent the day toodling around the lake with his three daughters making memories of their own and acquiring sunburns.

     We were blessed to return home to kittens whose eyes had opened, all the livestock well tended and house dogs that hadn't destroyed grandma and grandpa's yard.

     So was it worth all the hassle, planning, re-planning, packing, unpacking and washing (we are STILL washing clothing, bedding, etc.)?  I would answer a resounding yes.

     I am still a little jealous of those that can throw their life in a duffle bag and jet off to exotic places, but I'm okay with our life on the farm.  And every now and then, I'm really happy for a few days off the farm too.

     Day 6: Load Out.  Last day of fair, but one more competition. Our son had qualified for Round Robin so we were at the fairgrounds early to feed and water before he changed back into his show whites and FFA jacket.  He looked sharp and confident going in, but Mom has a hard time watching showmanship.  It is agonizing not to ringside coach, so I would watch for a bit, then take a walk and come back and watch some more.  The competition went on for 1 1/2 hours.  That is a long time to stay focused and keep your head in the game for a teenager!  He hung in there and did really well.  He took second  in the FFA Division losing that illusive belt buckle by .5 (half) a point to our good friend Karrie S. 

      Following Round Robin, we began to pack up.  Down came the dressing room tent, the collapsible chairs and the decorations.  The kickboards were unwired from the pens and stacked.  The astroturf picked up, shook out and folded.  It always reminds me of how a sheik and his harem must pack up to move in the desert.  At fair, everything gets dusty and gritty.  The first few days it holds the romance of camping.  By day 6, it just feels dirty.  But the kids pitched in and Kevin came to help so it went smoothly.  

     It took three loads to get all the decorations and goats back home.  The idiot guard at the livestock gate gave me a hassle allowing the truck in to load out, even after I had a signed note from the Livestock Office. This year's Livestock Superintendant was really on the ball and very calmly tried to deal with the gate guards (and every other hassle that came up). The guards are always part time security and this was an older woman in her 70's with a uniform and a badge.  WAAYYYY to much power there!

     By the time we offloaded the last of the goats, I think I had discovered a new level of tired.  Everything is just piled in the barn and will have to be gone through, washed off and stored for next year's fair.  We fed, watered and milked and came in the house.  I was too tired to even make dinner so I left our oldest daughter to that task and soaked the dust off in a bath.  I then washed up the two youngest kids and got everyone heading to bed.  Our friends the Heino's had dropped off a load of goats at our place while they ran a load up to their home (45 minutes away) and they got back in town to pick up their second load from our pens at 10:00 pm.  Another late night in the making.

     We hadn't seen the pregnant cat since last night, so we went on a search and couldn't find her anywhere.  As I was getting ready for bed, she crawled out of my dresser....skinny.  I carefully slid open my bottom dresser drawer expecting kittens and found none.  Huh.  Then I heard a soft mewing and pulled the drawer all the way out.  UNDER the drawer on the carpet are three newborn kittens; a white, a black and a tabby.  I ran and got the girls and tried very hard to keep them quiet while peeking at our newest additions. We got Momma Kitty some dinner and she took a visit to the litter box and was promptly back loving her babies. We unscrewed the bottom support bar to give her more head room and left the new little family alone.  I'm not sure where to file a paternity case....  But these are future members of Rodent Patrol, a specialized and highly trained task force necessary on the farm.  Guess I won't be using my bottom drawer for a while.  Anybody want a kitten in a few months???  The girls are trying to come up with good "fair" names for the kittens.  They are batting around Ferris (wheel) and Merry (go-round).  Let us know if you have any ideas!

   I'm glad fair is over.  My house needs cleaning, the laundry caught up, the lawn mowed and the pool cleaned.  Yikes what a week we have ahead of ourselves to recover from 6 days away from everyday tasks. 

    On our way home from fair, our Middle Princess was complaining that she wasn't going to see her friends and she didn't get to buy a rock candy sucker like she had wanted.  I explained to her that in life, we frame all our experiences.  Sometimes we frame wonderful experiences with an ugly frame and when we do that, all we can see is the ugly frame and not the beautiful picture.  So we "re-framed" her fair experience and reminded ourselves about the great friends we enjoyed, the fun competitions we got to be part of and the exciting adventure fair is for our family every year.

     Thank you so much for following our family to fair in 2011.  We can't wait for 2012!

     Day 5:  Sale Day!  Last night we got in late and threw the show whites into the wash for the third time this week.  It is important to show up for sale day with your whites white.  One problem this morning, no one had turned on the washing machine.  I started the washer and ran the two middle kids to fair to start chores, then raced home to put the clothes in the dryer.  I snuck back to bed for a half hour while the dryer did it's thing.  Then as I got ready to go back to the fairgrounds I remembered that I still hadn't fixed the truck tire and load out is on Sunday.  I wouldn't have any other time to get it done.

     I got out the bike tire pump thinking that it really is time to invest in an air compressor.  Kevin interrupted his getting ready for work to come out and help me pump up the truck tire.  We said a short prayer together that I would reach Les Schwab before it went flat again and off I rolled.  I got to Les Schwab and asked them if they could repair it quickly because my kids were selling at fair.  Good new, they could get me in immediately.  Bad news, the tire was irrepairable.  Big gulp and an unexpected expense later and I had two new tires on the front.  Definately not top of the line, but after all, it is a ranch truck.  Yikes, looks like we will be robbing grandpa's garden to make up for grocery money this week.

     There were over 375 animals through the Junior Livestock Auction today.  The community turned out and was so good and generous to these kids.  Our Middle Princess took her sweet market wether, Chicken Nugget, through the sale and he was purchased by Palo Cedro Feed store for $9.00 a pound.  Our Oldest Prince sold his market wether, Chevy, at high noon with the other Champions and sold to Ted Pella, Inc. for $11.25 a pound.  We were thrilled with those figures and so grateful for the support of the friends and businesses we interact with here in the north state.  Our friends Wilton Boer Goats was in on the bidding as well as several other area businesses. 

     Prices were better this year than they have been in the past.  Still, to get the average there was a stretch.  The bottom goat sold for $5.00 a pound and the 4-H Champion went for a whopping $21.00 a pound.  Average though seemed to be about $6.50 a pound if you take the $21.00 price out of the equation.  Sometimes I worry about the kids whose families don't do this for a living. Do they see the realities of this business? The prices at a 4-H auction are super inflated, pie-in-the-sky money in support of youth.  If you took these same goats to the standard auction they would fetch somewhere between $1.35 - $2.00 a pound.  Real life in agriculture is very different than these youth sales.

     As a 4-H leader, I worked the sale all day making sure all the youth got to the sale ring as their numbers came up.  The kids ran around with their friends once they sold.  I slipped away to attend a dairy goat meeting for the annual voting of officers.  Looks like I'll be Education Chairman again.  Then we enjoyed a great Goat Taco bar for all the goat exhibitors at our friend Marjory's trailer.

     We had some of the most fun we've enjoyed all fair when we pulled out the pack goats and set up a make-shift obstacle course.  The goats went through the course in full gear and really drew a crowd.  Some of the general public even asked if they could lead a goat over a few obstacles.  It was relaxing, cool on the grass in the shade and fun to just kick back and have some fun with the goats.  Then the kids walked the goats through the livestock area in full gear and talked to the general public about packing with goats. 

     After we wrapped up the pack goat demonstration I wandered over to the commercial building where my friend Deborah has an embroidery business.  We visited and enjoyed a few moments of air conditioning.  She is emboidering the kids duffle bags they won for winning Showmanship classes.  I'll pick them up tomorrow.

     By this time, the evening was getting late and Daddy showed up at the barns with our Little Prince in a melt-down temper tantrum.  He was more than finished with the day after walking around, playing on the straw bale maze and watching the race cars at the track with Dad.  I took most of the kids home and left Dad and our Oldest Prince to watch the races for some male bonding time.  They do this every year and I am more than happy to leave them to their petroleum intoxication.

     We came home with chores and milking still to be done here, but the girls are hurrying through them because everyone is longing to head to bed.  Round Robin competition in the morning and then we begin packing for load-out.  One more day. Thanks so much for following us to fair!  The Prydes

     Day 4: Fair burnout usually hits me about day 4.  The kids are more resillient and are still going strong, but I had to come home this afternoon and take a long nap.  Stomach was a bit unhappy with me, but fast food and fair food for so many days does take its toll.

     Dairy Goats showed this morning so we were off to the fair by 6:00 am.  Our Oldest Princess stayed home with her baby brother to handle chores here.  We got to our tack stall and immediately put the milkers up on the grooming stand to finish clipping udders.  This final touch up has to happen when their udders are full and right before the show so they don't get a five o'clock shadow of hair growth on their udder. 

      Our poor Oldest Prince was wearing his white show pants from last year and he has grown up considerably this year.  I couldn't get away to pick him up a larger pair until the afternoon.  We really should have tried them on before fair week, but time just got away from us.  He joked he'd be fine as long as he didn't sit down and didn't country boys wear their jeans tight anyway?  I laughed and said yes, but not so tight they can't breath.  Picked up the last pair of white show Wranglers in his size right before the Boot Barn closed in the afternoon.

     He withdrew from showing in Dairy Goat Showmanship as he had already won Meat Goat Showmanship and as such is entered in the Round Robin competition.  Round Robin is where the showmen winners of each species of livestock, dairy goat, dairy cow, beef, swine, sheep and meat goat compete for a chance to be proclaimed Overall Showman.  They have to handle each species in the ring under judges.  By withdrawing from Dairy Goat Showmanship, he leaves room for someone else to win it and get to compete in Round Robin as well. 

     The dairy goat show went well.  Middle Princess won the Jr. Showmanship class and got moved up to the Intermediate class.  She actually took fourth out of seven in the Intermediate class.  Not bad for a Junior showman to be placed above Intermediates.  She was excited because she won both premium money and an awesome duffle bag with SDF embroidered on it.  She wants to take it over to our friends the Scott's embroidery booth and get her name embroidered on it as her brother won one for showmanship too.  Her Senior kid won her class with her older brother's senior kid in second place.  She had also brought in two yearling milkers and they took third and fourth out of nine goats for respectable placings.  The judge commented that her third place doe, her goat Lucy was by far the best looking goat in the show but just didn't have the udder capacity yet to place any higher (after all, it is a dairy goat show). 

    While I came home to rest, the little girls were assigned to our friend Casey and played among the aisles and tack stalls.  Dad came over from work for a while to help get friends ready for the open American Boer Goat Association show.  Older Prince jumped in and handled goats in the show ring for many people who needed an extra hand.  He was pleased to handle a doe from Wilton Boer Goats to the RCH win. Our friend Rosalinda took the littlest princess into the fair and they all got their faces painted.  Older Prince had a "tattoo" of I Love Mom painted on his arm.  Hee-hee, the girls may have his eye, but his heart still belongs to mama :).

     I brought dinner back to the fairgrounds for everyone and tried to stick it out, but decided my stomach would be happier at home.  I took the two youngest princesses with me to wash the show whites for tomorrow.  Who ever thought it a wise idea to show livestock in white jeans???  Tomorrow is the Junior Livestock Auction.  It will be interesting to see how prices go.  We have more goats than ever coming through the auction, but less animals overall.  The recession always makes things tricky.  While I'm sure businesses would like to support the community's ag kids, the money may just not be there.  We'll see.

     Tonight Dad and Older Prince stayed until after the Charlie Daniel's concert in order to keep an eye on our equipment and animals.  Several of the dad's just hang around the barn on concert night and we sure appreciate them.

     Need to get some sleep, tomorrow is another day at the fair!

     Day 3: Overslept this morning until 6:00 am.  Woops, not a good idea on show day.  We hoofed it over to the fairgrounds where the kids quickly fed, watered and cleaned pens.  Parents are not allowed to do the work for their FFA or 4-H children during fair.  The Fair figures, if it is the youth's project and they will benefit in the way of premium money or sales, they should do the work.  Wish I could make that concept stick at home all year round.

     Despite starting a bit late, we made it to the show ring in time to reserve a ring side pen to put the kid's breeding stock does into to await their classes.  This saved us oodles of time running back and forth between the goat barn and the show ring, which is a considerable distance this year.  Still, the new show ring is sure pretty and they have planter boxes scattered around, a straw bale maze right nearby for younger siblings to play on and a nice set of bleachers.

     The FFA showed first and our oldest son was all business during classes.  (Not so much in between classes but I couldn't blame him, his current distraction is a cutie).  He has worked hard on this year's market wether project, bred by our friends at Boers by Hobby (boersbyhobby.com).  The wether is a son of their buck Navigator and he worked him so he has great muscle expression.  And could that wether brace!  We were very pleased when they won CH FFA Market Wether.  Our son turned on his charm in the showmanship ring and went on to win CH FFA Showman as well.  Several of the breeders we have come to know over the years were there and it was nice to visit with friends in between the classes.

     Our middle princess had a lighter wether weighing in at only 62#.  He is a dream for her to handle and that means a lot to us after she was drug in a show ring by a large doe a few years ago and hit her head on a concrete column.  This is her first year showing a market wether.  She was sad to be at the end of the line in her weight catagory and came out of the ring a bit teary-eyed.  Humble pie is hard to swallow.  It kind of sticks in your throat.  She went on to place 4th in showmanship which is a really solid placing for her first year showing against other 4-Hers in market classes.  I was proud of her, but my mothers-heart was a little sore at her feelings of disappointment.  And so it goes.

     Our son again did well in the breeding doe classes with his yearling does Kismet and Vixen.  We were pleased that both Kismet and Vixen's breeders came to watch.  They are both neat people trying to give this young man a foot up in the goat business by allowing him to get into two such nice does.  Kismet took an honest third and the judge really liked Vixen but noted she needed more maturity and placed her fifth.  Out of a class of 16 does aged 13 - 23 months, those were admirable placings.  Some parents complained that the Fair shouldn't have combined the Jr. and Sr. Yearling does and while I agree, I'm not in charge.  It is hard to compare does barely over a year to some who have already kidded twice.  I'm sure the judge found it a challenge, but her oral reasons sounded right.

     The rest of the afternoon was spent chasing after kids, bathing the dairy does for tomorrow's dairy goat show and getting our littlest princess ready for pee-wee showmanship.  At our fair pee-wee showmanship is more of a parade.  They all get to walk their goats around the ring and they all get a ribbon. This is a pretty important deal for kids 2 to 8 years old.  Little Princess wore her sister's 4-H hat and bandana and borrowed her sweetly tempered market wether.  She got him out of the pen a good hour before showmanship so she could walk him around the barns and aisles in her borrowed uniform.  She felt very important.  I noticed that in the show ring she was actually setting her goat up and worrying about where her judge was, not just mugging for the camera like the younger kids.  Looks like she is about to grow up and be ready for the real thing.  She can show officially in two more summers.  Guess I better start looking for a showmanship doe for her to start training.

     Our littlest prince ran around in overalls and no shoes (not sure where they ended up).  His feet, face and hands were covered with dust so he has been deposited in the bathtub.  Still have milking to do tonight.  Thankfully our friend Marjory made dinner at her trailer on the fairgrounds and invited us over to eat so I don't have to worry about feeding everyone.  Sloppy joes, watermelon, strawberries and chips were perfect kid's foods.

     Better go pry my little prince out of the bathtub and try to get us all to bed before 11:00 tonight.  We have to be at the fair early tomorrow for another show day and tomorrow is our late night.  The Charlie Daniel's band is playing in concert tomorrow night so we will have to stay in the barns until the concert ends and the drunks go home.  Every year a few folks who have had a few too many stagger into the barns after the concert.  Once we had one toss his cigarette into a pen filled with goats and straw, once someone fed beer to our goats and put it in their water bucket.  We've had cameras stolen, hoses stolen (why???) and just general public stupidity.  Joe Public isn't always very bright so we've learned to run our own security on concert nights.  The paid security is busy enough.

     Thanks for following us to fair for another day.  See you tomorrow!  The Pryde Family

     Day 2: Mornings come early in fair week.  Up at 5:00 to do the home chores before getting to the fairgrounds by 7:00 to do the fair chores before the 8:00 mandatory "ready for the public" time.

     Today is our prep day and the only day we don't show.  Clippers blazed throughout the barn.  Most of our goats we had clipped prior to fair but still had to finish the kid's market wethers.  We helped a friend clip her breeding stock meat goats and a couple of pack goats that came to fair for exhibit.  I have a healthy case of poison oak on my arms and prickly little goat hairs just about sent me into orbit.

     Today is also our middle princesses birthday so after market wethers were clipped, she and I snuck off to Barnes and Nobles.  Her birthday present from her dad and I was a chance to pick out her own books (she is a voracious reader) and a carnival ride pass for the day.  We brought back a 1/2 sheet cake to barn E and after a rousing round of Happy Birthday, the kids in the barn devoured the cake in less than 10 minutes.  With a ride pass strapped to her arm, she wasn't much help the rest of the day :).  Her brother was sweet and pitched in to do her chores after daddy showed up after work to take her on the rides at night when the carnival lights are shining.

    Our oldest son is totally in his element.  He loves every part of fair and could be found pitching in to help trim the goats of his fellow FFAers as well as the animals of the girls from other FFA Chapters :).  I'm afraid he may be poisoned by perfume.  Guess it is his season in life for that kind of poisoning.

     Had one fair goer accuse our friends the Parks of having a sick goat and threatened to call the Sheriff if they didn't take care of her.  Turns out the kid goat was taking a nap asleep on her side.  She was a confused little goat when she was awakened just so a city-person could see her stand up.  #Sigh# We try to be patient with people and educate them, but sometimes extremists get a little taxing.

     Didn't get home and finish chores until after 11:00.  I had one tired two-year old on my hands as well as the littlest princess who had played tag among the goat pens with her friends all day.  Tomorrow is another early morning with the meat goat show.  Thanks for following us to fair!

     Day 1:   It is fair week and we are blogging so you can follow us to fair and see what fair week is like for an ag family.  Yesterday we brought in decorations, found our pen assignments and put up our tack stall - our mini living room for the week.  The day before the fair the livestock office allows us to pull our trucks onto the fairgrounds and into the barns to offload all the junk necessary to make the week run smoothly.  We pack everything from the grooming stand to a large bottle of Ibuprofen for Mom!

     After weeks of rain, the weather has finally turned summery and we spent the day in 90 degree weather inside metal roofed barns.  The fans were running, but so was the sweat and the animals were panting in the heat.  Today was weigh-ins where the livestock that will be sent through the junior auction are sent over the scales for official weight and to make sure they meet the weight criteria set by the fair for their species.  Meat goats needed to weigh between 60-100 pounds.  Our daughter's goat weighed in at 62 pounds (whew!) and our son's at 89 pounds.  When it came time to weigh the goats, as a 4-H leader, I encouraged everyone to push the lighter goats to the front of the line at the scale, regardless of which club they came from, so the light goats could get across the scales while their bellies were still full.  Last year, one FFA youth had his goat "sifted" or sent home because he came across the scale 1/2 pound light.  His goat had peed right before going across the scale because he had waited in line so long.  We wanted to avoid this and got all the light goats across in good weight but one.  Two ended up sifted out of 37, not bad.  One because it was light and one because when they castrated it, one testicle hadn't descended yet and so he was still a little buckling. Woops, that is against the rules!

     As we off loaded our breeding stock does into their pens we found we had two pen jumpers.  These two does decided they could clear the 4 foot fences and weren't about to stay put.  We ran to the local lumber yard and picked up some 2 X 2 boards and built their pen up a little higher.  Our oldest daughter made a sign that reads "We are in TIME OUT, we jumped the fence!" so the public would know why these two are in lockdown.  Everything about fair is about introducing agriculture to the general public.  And unfortunately, that means that tree-hugging PETA types will try to find fault with every little thing.  Too bad they can't see the reality of how valuable these animals are to us and how much care we put into them.

     A heifer calf got loose and ran through the goat barn.  It was a kick watching the security guy chase it.  We finally felt sorry for him and stepped in.  I knew the owner and had her number in my cell phone so called her at her trailer to come get her calf.

     In true fair luck we off-loaded our last group of animals, ran home to get some more decorations and ...had a flat tire.  The tread on the ranch truck is too thin to repair so I have until we load out on Sunday to get a new set of tires.  Too bad we don't farm money trees....  Tires are NOT in the budget.

     We loaded the mini-van with the rest of the decorations and all five kids and ran the last stuff in.  Chased the two-year old all over the barn.  He refuses to stay in the tack stall this year.  This is going to be a challenge.  We even brought his tricycle to ride in the tack stall, but that isn't exciting enough for him anymore.  We are sharing a stall with our good friends and the FFA leader's family the Wolds.  They have a two-year old as well so maybe he can entertain ours this year.

     Got a call that a herd of goats was out at my in-laws so we raced over to get them back in with the buck we are borrowing to make next year's fair wethers.  Then ran home.  Dinner was cold cereal, chores were done and we all hit the hay.  Tomorrow is another fair day!

     Two year old children are quite possibly the most fascinating creatures we raise on the farm.  These little beasties are generally clad in overalls or tutus or just a diaper, tromping around in black irrigation boots.

     When you have small children on a farm you find yourself casually saying things that no respectable urban mother would say, such as "get the goat poop out of the baby's mouth," and "It's fine if he plays in the water trough, just keep an eye on him."

         Strong immune systems are part of a two-year old's farm development.  When one consumes bugs, mud, dog food, horse grain and ditch water, he is bound to develop some immunity or die trying.  Two-year olds are famous for learning about the world through their mouths.  Farms provide plenty of oral stimulation and experience. I remember several years back that something like a hundred children got sick with a stain of e-coli at a county fair in Florida from petting the animals and then touching their mouths.  When they did research on the sick children, they found that every one of them lived in an apartment or home that had little or no access to animals.  The farm-raised kids who were napping with their market hogs in pens didn't become ill.  I'm sure the healthy kids were once two-year olds playing in those pig pens in their bare feet and sticking their fingers in their mouths. 

     I think farm babies develop especially smart brains. They tend to have more physical experiences than city babies; a very important learning tool when you are young. They soak learning right up through their little feet. While their city-baby counterparts only feel asphalt under their tiny tennis shoes, farm babies are happy to shed those little boots and squish mud through their toes, walk across hot gravel with narry a flinch, wander through sticker patches.  Farm babies even know the exact temperature of fresh dog manure (an unfortunate thing for their mothers).

     Farm kids can do amazing things when they are surprisingly young.  They can climb cattle panel, swing on a tire swing and almost sweep the barn hallway; if that darn broom wouldn't keep turning into a sword or cattle prod. 

     You see, farms are wonderful places to allow little minds to stretch. Farm raised two-year olds feed livestock one piece of corn at a time so they can watch them chew.  They lay on the ground watching the tires of their toy tractors roll back and forth.  They feel barn kittens wind against their legs.  They know how fast a chicken can run from them.  They spend time watching bumble bees mosey around flowers or looking up at the stars.

      My husband talks about how the irrigation ditches of his childhood lit up his imagination. He and his brothers floated pieces of wood down the ditch for hours as children. Those spare pieces of barn wood were battle ships sailing off to fight great wars on the open brown waters of that ditch. Of course, now, his dad says he would have tanned their little hides had he known they were playing in the ditch when their parents weren't home. 

      While irrigation ditches are a danger any farm parent inherently fears for their littlest ones, they are a great play place once the kids get older.  (It is always wise however to take a piece of cattle panel and put it across the culvert where the water flows under the street to prevent anyone going under, and not coming out.)

     My kids can't wait for irrigation season to start each spring.  The older kids shriek as they swing on a rope and drop into the muddy ditch water.  They row our canoe down the two acre ditch, then stand up and sit down facing the other direction and row back.  Many a pirate has rowed those mighty seas with an "ahoy matey" and a "yo-ho-ho".

     Any two-year old we have handy is allowed to stomp around in the water as it flows on to the fields.  At best it is four inches deep and spreads out like a shallow ocean around them.  This chilly adventure usually leads to a thorough soaking.  We've discovered that Pampers and Huggies really can hold a LOT of water. That is until they finally fall off and burst open leaving extra-absorbant crystals on the pasture.  And if water gets into their irrigation boots they learn the joy of sloshing inside their shoes.  This is very cool when you are two.

     Farm babies are also some of the bravest kids you'll ever meet. No room for woosies here.  A two-year old can push around a dairy goat, chase off a pecking chicken, yell at the dog or smack the stupid pig that is using their baby pool as a wallow. 

              At the end of the day, farm babies are virtually impossible to get into the house and into a bath.  They also prove equally impossible to get out of the bath.  Yet bath time is an imperative activity for a farm kid.  Farm kids have the ability to acquire layers of grime that no city kid would ever tolerate.  However, anyone who has ever raised a farm kid knows that dirt can cake in places I refuse to describe and little feet that have been in rubber irrigation boots all day have a uniquely pungent odor akin to sour fish or a poorly tended compost pile. Baby irrigation-boot feet stink.

     Every day is an adventure when you are two and live on a farm.  Our current two year old can sit for hours on the John Deere lawn tractor plowing imaginary fields and planting crops, all in the safety of the barn.   Then he digs around till he finds some sort of tool; a wrench or a pair of pliers, and tinkers with the tractor by banging on parts and pieces making musical repairs.   He is quite the big boy in his own mind and the fun is only interrupted when he has to come in for a diaper change or nap.  Bringing him in requires an act of Congress and cause for blood curdling screams.

     That is because he loves being a farm-baby. And we love raising these most interesting little beasts, our favorite on the farm.