I was wrong. But it's so right.
I'm not getting a horse NEXT year. I'm getting one THIS year.
The guy I told you about a couple of posts ago, Mr. Heifer, is not just going to loan Daisy to me, he's going to give her to me. He wants her to have a good home with lots of attention, and he can provide the good but not as much attention. So he's just giving her to me.
Can you believe it?
'Hey, Lulu, what's the angle?' you ask.
According to Mr. Heifer, no one in his small family is interested in carrying on the rare breeds torch, and "if I can help young people like you get started, that's what I'm going to do."
You know how you know that there are people out there who share your ideals and specific, almost-wholly-unreported interests, but you sometimes wonder just where in the hell they're holed up? Mr. Heifer is one of those people. A kindred spirit! And I met him and he met me.
Daisy, my horse, (my horse!!) is an American Cream draft horse. Not registered, because she's not the right color, but she is a beauty--reddish-brown with a light blond mane and tail. And she's a mare who can have register-able Creams which can be sold for at least $1000 and even more if they fit the breed characteristics. Or kept.
And did I mention that she's a big sweetie? And comes with a saddle? If you're envisioning me running through the fields, hair flying, awash in the wind, stop right there. Plodding across a field astride a living sofa is more like it. You can outfit us in armor and picture me with a sword, bearing down on stupid and defenseless Hometownians, but that's probably further than you should mentally go. Still, if you're bored, go nuts.
And the horse is just the start! We're getting the sheep--at least 3 ewes, 2 of them pregnant. AND last night he offered us some heifers. Red Poll heifers. This is a horn-free, smallish, red breed that's good for milk or meat. They are costing him $600 apiece, and all he wants in exchange for the cows and the use of a bull is 1/2 of the calves (or half of the money for them).
We're balking a little on the heifers--this is all happening so fast!--but I'm pretty into it. I cleared it with City Hall today. Technically, you're not supposed to have livestock within city limits unless your land was grandfathered in as a "farm". But that seems to be for people who don't have 25 acres to play with.
And...I went to Orscheln, the local farm store, for some books about these various beasts and guess what? They have chicks in there. Chicks that are getting a little too big to sell in the store. And you know what that means. Yes, this weekend we'll construct a chicken tractor, find the brooder lamp, and stock our little farm with Arucaunas and Buff Orpingtons and Barred Rocks and maybe even a Rhode Island Red or two. How can you resist animals with names like that?
And...this afternoon, I found myself looking up and getting excited about magazines with names like "Stockman Grass Journal" and books with names like "Pasture Perfect".
It has begun.
The guy I told you about a couple of posts ago, Mr. Heifer, is not just going to loan Daisy to me, he's going to give her to me. He wants her to have a good home with lots of attention, and he can provide the good but not as much attention. So he's just giving her to me.
Can you believe it?
'Hey, Lulu, what's the angle?' you ask.
According to Mr. Heifer, no one in his small family is interested in carrying on the rare breeds torch, and "if I can help young people like you get started, that's what I'm going to do."
You know how you know that there are people out there who share your ideals and specific, almost-wholly-unreported interests, but you sometimes wonder just where in the hell they're holed up? Mr. Heifer is one of those people. A kindred spirit! And I met him and he met me.
Daisy, my horse, (my horse!!) is an American Cream draft horse. Not registered, because she's not the right color, but she is a beauty--reddish-brown with a light blond mane and tail. And she's a mare who can have register-able Creams which can be sold for at least $1000 and even more if they fit the breed characteristics. Or kept.
And did I mention that she's a big sweetie? And comes with a saddle? If you're envisioning me running through the fields, hair flying, awash in the wind, stop right there. Plodding across a field astride a living sofa is more like it. You can outfit us in armor and picture me with a sword, bearing down on stupid and defenseless Hometownians, but that's probably further than you should mentally go. Still, if you're bored, go nuts.
And the horse is just the start! We're getting the sheep--at least 3 ewes, 2 of them pregnant. AND last night he offered us some heifers. Red Poll heifers. This is a horn-free, smallish, red breed that's good for milk or meat. They are costing him $600 apiece, and all he wants in exchange for the cows and the use of a bull is 1/2 of the calves (or half of the money for them).
We're balking a little on the heifers--this is all happening so fast!--but I'm pretty into it. I cleared it with City Hall today. Technically, you're not supposed to have livestock within city limits unless your land was grandfathered in as a "farm". But that seems to be for people who don't have 25 acres to play with.
And...I went to Orscheln, the local farm store, for some books about these various beasts and guess what? They have chicks in there. Chicks that are getting a little too big to sell in the store. And you know what that means. Yes, this weekend we'll construct a chicken tractor, find the brooder lamp, and stock our little farm with Arucaunas and Buff Orpingtons and Barred Rocks and maybe even a Rhode Island Red or two. How can you resist animals with names like that?
And...this afternoon, I found myself looking up and getting excited about magazines with names like "Stockman Grass Journal" and books with names like "Pasture Perfect".
It has begun.
posted by lulu | 2:36 PM
3 Comments:
None of it is real unless we see pictures!
Pictures for those of us so far away--and put your family in some too!
(And also, congratulations!)
Just to be contrary, I say the story alone is as real as it gets, and chapter one has me riveted. Mr. Heifer (not his real name?) is my hero.
I hope I've appeased you, Burb...though it's obvious I lack your skill with the pictures.
And Mr. Heifer is not his real name, but it is an extremely clever play on his real name. I'm very proud of myself.
Farmer Lulu
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