The Farmette Report

Off to the races

Not even 48 hours old, and Argus is already running circles around his mother! Yesterday, his specialty was hopping up and down and jumping backwards (the latter as he tried out his version of a two-legged donkey kick). Today, his past-time was running a short distance, turning on a dime, and returning. Repeated as often as possible. This clip shows one of his longer jaunts. This little guy is surely going to keep Molly on her toes.

It's a boy!

The newest member of our family is taking a rest, but he's not too tuckered out to wish everyone a very happy New Year! Argus, as it seems we have named him, is not always as calm as pictured here. No, indeed, he keeps all of us, especially his mama Molly on our toes with his antics. Y'know, it is one thing to read about how quickly donkeys (and equines in general) foal and how quickly the foals are standing, feeding, walking, etc, but it is something else entirely to see the critter go from shaky, wet newborn to fluffy, zippy speed demon in less than two days.

Sorry for not getting new photos up, but we had to get a new card reader for my computer. That's done now, and I'll start working on a photo gallery.

Here is a short something from G.K. Chesterton to entertain you while I figure out how to do a better job of posting videos to this site:

The Donkey

When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born;

With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil's walking parody
On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.

- G.K. Chesterton

Another look

Sorry this is so dark, but lighting inside our barn is limited. Still, you can't mistake the tender exchange between mama donkey and foal - or the loud beating of raindrops on the barn roof.

A belated Christmas present for Molly

Dear friends and fellow donkey lovers, if ever there was a reason to break my long blog-hibernation, this is it: at approximately eight o'clock this evening, Molly delivered the foal she has been carrying for nearly 13 months. We were beginning to wonder if she would ever drop that baby... and then tonight, we happened along just in time to find Molly still laying on her side, the foal next to her still half covered in membranes yet already gamely trying to stand.

After making sure that mother and baby were fine, Keith and I left so they would have more bonding time. We came back about 40 minutes later - and the baby was standing and nosing around for supper! We figure that the foal was only an hour old when I took the above photo. We cleaned up the afterbirth, put down more fresh straw and gave Molly some hay - which she ate with gusto along with some well-deserved carrots before returning to cleaning up her still damp little one.

Ambrose wisely decided that this would be a time to make himself scarce, so he retreated to the manger. Keith brought him hay, water, and a few celebratory carrots. Poor Ambrose definitely looks thrown for a loop tonight!

Overall, Molly seemed quite relaxed after her ordeal, taking it all in calm, if sweaty, stride. You can see that the wee one is already the apple of her eye!

Because it is cold and wet tonight - and Molly is a first-time mother and we are first timers, too, we're taking it in turns to check in on them every so often. We can't wait to share more photos - all in time, of course.

The curious donkey

Just after I finished tending to the garden for a brief while after work yesterday, the donkeys ambled up from their favorite spot in the pasture. Time for a visit. These early evening visits are a treat - a chance to walk around together, or perhaps a time for brushing and feeding. The donks are especially keen on the possibility of a treat: hay, carrots, or an apple - heck, even a weed seems to taste sweeter when it is eaten from the hand.

This evening, Molly rolled in the dust bath, while Ambrose pestered me with nudges, seeking out a hoped-for treat. Since I'd brought no treats with me, I hoped a good ear-scratching might content him, and that's how I was occupied when I heard rustling from near the entrance to the old groundhog burrow about 40 feet away.

That accursed groundhog! It had recently reopened the hole that we have been regularly filling in ever since Keith stepped knee-deep into it nearly two years ago.

That bold groundhog deserved a good scaring off, so I walked towards it, eager to surprise it. Ambrose heard the rustling, too, and followed. Good! He had found something else to direct his attention to besides pestering me for treats.

I approached the hole quietly. At a distance of about 25 feet, I saw the foraging critter. A skunk. A big skunk. Big.

It saw me, too, but seemed calm enough, though watchful. I backed away as quietly as I had come.

But not Ambrose. He had seen the skunk, too, and judging by the way he had his ears cocked forward as he stared at the stranger, he was intrigued. He slowly approached the skunk. I held my breath.

As Ambrose continued towards the skunk, it turned to face him - which was better than if the skunk had turned the other way 'round. I managed to break out of my trance in order to call out Ambrose's name to no effect. I then whistled - the same whistle I use to let him know it is time for hay. No dice. He wanted to check out the skunk.

The skunk ducked down its hole, but Ambrose kept approaching. He peered into the burrow. Surely, this would end in disaster.

Time for action. I turned around and walked towards the barn, not because I was fleeing the scene, but because going to the barn is as sure a sign of impending hay than anything else, and might be enough to take his attentions away from the dang skunk.

It worked. Molly and Ambrose followed me to the barn. No donkeys received a dose of skunk perfume.

We're wondering if this is the same skunk that had been plaguing our basement up until a month or so ago. Time to plan our next campaign.

The chocolate donkey

Compared to chocolate Easter bunnies, the little chocolate donkey is a low-calorie treat!

I wish that I could have taken better photos, but he stayed in his dustbath towards the back of the crowd of adult donkeys who had gathered at the fence for the carrots we were handing out. These donkeys are from the herd up the road - the same herd our two donkeys came from. Here's Baby Choco with his new little cousin:

The two youngsters above are little boy donkeys. When they weren't "necking" (our cute term for the mutual grooming they are busily engaged in), they were "wrassling." The winning donkey in a wrassling contest is the one who manages to rest his head across the other donkey's back. Like so:

My company is moving offices, so things have been pretty hectic lately which contributes to the continued slowing down of posts on the Farmette Report. But there are more donkey photos and donkey updates and knitting updates...not to mention the lovely spring we are having and which I am managing to enjoy! I will just have to find some time for updates!

Blissed-out

Is Molly a blissed-out looking donkey or what? Check out that big smile!

(Also, woof, she needs a manicure.)

Too much fun to pass up

T-shirts with words on 'em don't usually float my boat, but this might be the happy exception! You're looking at the results of a SnapShirts rendering of The Farmette Report. Pretty cool, huh? (Even if it looks like MOLLY needs more air time!) Thanks to Michelle for sharing the link.

Squares and rectangles

I dutifully started this post waaaaaay back when, but the effects of a long week, a fun time at Knit Night, and then the beginning of feeling yucky for too long took me out of the game before I could finish the post. After that the unfinished post simply got buried. Some people have unfinished objects, I have unfinished posts. But I do want to get this one up so that I can proceed with some overdue knitting-related posts that build off of this one....

Here's a quick tour of my first year of knitting:

With the arrival of twin nieces in March '05, a pair of baby blankets seemed in order, but first I would need to learn how to knit. And I would have to get over my wool allergy. Yikes! It seemed to make more sense to start out with baby-proof, hypo-allergenic acrylic yarn than to splurge on yarn that would likely prove to challenging for sensitive auntie and babies alike. I went down the Pound of Love road and became something of an Acrylic Queen for a few months:

Being a somewhat dyslexic self-taught knitter, it turns out I was knitting into the backs of stitches when I made those blankets. And I think I was messing up the purl stitches, too, but what did I know? At least it didn't stop me from trying. I knit some scarves and a couple of baby sweaters. Another baby blanket (not posted yet). A basket weave lap throw in more cheesy acrylic (definitely not posted yet). Some cotton dishcloths - too well-used to post now - but perhaps the subject of a future post will involve the practical, everyday dishcloth.

When we decided to drive up to Maine for vacation in August, it was time to pick a special project. One of Keith's favorite places in the world is Otter Cove on Mount Desert Island. I wanted to knit a special scarf that would remind him of Otter Cove, its sea tang, exposed cliffs, granite shores, and colors and shapes that are often muted by sea fog. For the yarn, I chose Noro Kureyon in - natch - one of the manliest of colorways (brown/gray/taupe). Keith is not one for stripes or variegated yarns, but it helped enormously that the Noro colorway echoed the colors of our two mini donkeys. More on the simple 2x2 rib Otter Cove scarf later, but here is a pic from when it was still on the needles - and back from its travels in Maine:

While we were on vacation, I picked up a copy of Odd Ball Knitting by Barbara Albright and was taken in by the pattern for a scarf called Bamboo Rib. The pictured yarn was silk, a little pricey for my budget. Never mind that the point of the book is to help you use up the odds and ends that are already in your yarn stash, I went looking for something that would have the desired drape and a pleasing sheen, and ended up picking up a couple of balls of Berroco's Softwist in Twine from my local yarn shop. Here is the scarf when it was still on the needles last fall:

The hand-off

Without much warning, the CEO of the health center where I work had to change her plans and I and another executive ended up attending a policy and issues conference in Washington, DC, in her place. Which meant that I spent a good amount of Sunday afternoon and evening learning how to speak with our congressional representatives about funding reauthorizations and appropriations and other policy issues involving community health centers. Learning advocacy was fun. Really.

The downside (other than the obvious one of being away from husband and donkeys) was that I did not pack a laptop. Oh, sure, the conference organizers had set up Internet stations for the attendees to use during breaks - complete with long lines of people and screens that were situated so as to offer absolutely no privacy to the user. Ick. That wasn't how I wanted to use the limited amount of time available between workshops.  Therefore, I did not have Internet access for almost three days.

That worked out just fine for me. What I wanted to do at the end of that first day was to decompress with a low-tech pursuit and temporarily get the bureaucratic acronyms out of my head. Sunday evening was my chance to kick back in a comfy armchair in my hotel room, light a scented candle, listen to Glenn Gould on my iPod, drink a cup of tea and knit. Perfect!

The next day brought more workshops and little time for anything else. Keith and I had planned to have dinner together, and he almost got wet feet at the last minute because he had been running errands with his pickup truck and felt a little self-conscious about pulling up to the Washington Hilton in a vehicle we affectionately refer to as Ol' Paint. Heck, I rationalized to Keith, most community health centers are in rural areas, so a pickup will be like old home to most of the attendees and will give the rest of the folks at the Hilton something to talk about.

That settled that. We enjoyed a casual supper while chatting about the places in DC that we used to frequent when we began dating each other nearly twenty years ago. Twenty years! It doesn't feel nearly that long.

Because I would be visiting the offices of a congressional representative and two senators the next day, we agreed to make an early night of it. He had a loaded-down truck and some animals at home waiting for their supper, so there was, sadly, not much question of sharing the hospitality of my $300 a night hotel room with him. Instead, we had our dinner date, and then he drove me back to "my" place where he kissed me good night.

"Oh!" he said, as I started to open the truck door. He grinned as he reached into his jacket pocket, adding, "I didn't forget." Then he pressed a new ball of white merino wool into my hand.

It was for the project I had brought with me to work on in spare moments; I had finished up the first small ball of wool before supper. I started the new ball that night and brought the project with me to Capital Hill the next day. Now I'll be able to tell my sister-in-law that part of her baby blanket was knit in the halls of the Hart senate office building.