Removable hooves

No photos, sorry, so just use your imagination.

With autumn upon us, often the cows are still bedded down when I go into the barn in the morning to milk Maggie. Sometimes it takes a bit of persuasion to get Maggie to her feet and "emptied out" (letting her do both her liquid and her solid business) before putting her in the milking stall.

Anyway, that sets the scene. One morning, while Maggie was still lying down on the barn floor, I felt a small rock in my boot. Standing right in front of her, I braced myself against the barn wall, balanced on one foot, took off my boot, and shook out the pebble. Then I put my boot back on.

I glanced down at Maggie when I was finished and saw a comical expression on her face. If a cow can look shocked, Maggie seemed shocked down to her core ... shocked and a little freaked. I could almost hear her thinking, "Oh my gosh, she took off her hoof. She took off her hoof!!" She scrambled to her feet right away and somehow seemed subdued by my magical ability to remove a hoof at will.

Cow logic.

The hay is in!

Oof, we finally got all our hay delivered, stacked, and tarped.

We had ordered eight tons of oat hay from a local fellow. The cows go crazy over this stuff, so it's well worth it. However the bales – which are a regular small-bale size – are exceedingly heavy because they contain so many oats. They're on the order of 100 lbs each. At our age, Don and I don't relish lifting 160 such bales to get them stacked and under cover.

Thank God for the tractor. When the first two tons were delivered in August, it took us a long time (about eight hours) to get them stacked in the barn, partly because we were trying out various techniques and equipment to make the chore easier, and partly because it was such a tight fit to squeeze the tractor into the barn and place the hay on pallets.

Because of how long it took, we were dreading a triple repeat of this labor (the fellow was delivering the hay in two-ton increments). But we had no option.

Part of the problem with getting the hay stacked – aside from the weight of the bales, of course – was the difficulty in maneuvering the tractor in the tight confines of the barn. We have space in the middle of the barn for a lot of bales, but no space to move the machine to lift those bales into position ... and at 100 lbs. each, Don and I just didn't have the bandwidth to stack them by hand.

The grower delivered the second two-ton load on Oct. 8.

After he left, Don and I had some clearing away to do in the barn.

When that was finished, we prepared to move the bales indoors.

After all the fancy-shmancy planning we did for moving the first delivery of bales in August, the most useful tool proved to be two steel tines Don had custom-made by a metal-working neighbor, which were affixed to a bracket attached to the tractor bucket.

These stabbed the bales firmly.

Rather than trying to stack the bales on pallets in the barn, we decided to forego the pallets entirely and just stack the hay on the floor. This simplified and streamlined matters considerably, and we got that second delivery stacked in the barn in about four hours (vs. the eight hours with the previous delivery).

But when the third delivery arrived...

...we decided to not stack any more hay in the barn. Though there was (technically) plenty of room, the conditions were just too tight for the tractor. Instead, we planned to stack them in the driveway. We tarped the hay for the night to keep the dew off.

The next morning, we laid out pallets in the back driveway, between the house and the barn.

By this point we had realized it was unnecessary to stab the bales with the steel spikes at all, and could simply tumble a bale on top the spikes to transport it to the location. Coupled with the additional elbow room of working outside (rather than the tight squeeze of the barn), we got the third delivery stacked in about three hours.

Not more than an hour after we finished this task, Don came in and said the flock of turkeys that normally hangs out in the barnyard, scratching up the barn-waste pile, was on top the hay bales, avidly searching for oat seeds.

We didn't want the turkeys pooping all over the hay bales, so we shooed them off and lightly tarped the bales for the night.

The next day, the grower brought the final delivery of oat hay.

Once again we tarped the bales for the night.

The next morning we could see the morning sun steaming the dew off the tarp.

This is it. The last two tons to stack.

By this point, though, Don and I were working like a well-oiled machine: Him on the tractor following my hand signals, and me pushing bales onto the steel spikes and then directing Don where to place them.

This time we got those last two tons stacked inside a dazzling hour and a half.

A beautiful sight to see: Three pallets wide, five pallets deep, six bales per pallet, 90 bales stacked on a fairly small footprint.

We only had four bales left over, so we hoisted them one by one onto the hand truck and tucked them into the barn.

After resting from our exertions – and after shooing the flock of turkeys off the bales once again – we tarped the bales for the winter, tying the tarp to the pallets with twine and rope.

I can't tell you how relieved we are to have this chore behind us. With plenty of food for the cows for the winter, now we can turn our attention to other fall projects.

Incidentally, the grower told us he may not have oats for sale next year because he is planning on selling his farm. We were very sorry to hear that since he's a darned nice fellow and sells a wonderful product. We'll have to roll with the punches.

Freelance cattle

Yesterday evening, as I was picking blueberries, I kept hearing the mooing of range cattle.

This isn't really unusual. There's a family who lives about a mile away from us who raise beef cattle, and they have extensive property in the area. They rotate their cow/calf pairs year round. We hear cows all the time.

The reason the noise from the range cattle caught my ear last evening was because it was coming from the wrong direction, from down a steep hill where this family doesn't own property ... and the noise sounded like it was getting closer. "I wouldn't be surprised if some of their animals got out of the fences," I commented to Don as we leashed up Mr. Darcy for his evening walk. This, too, is nothing unusual. With as many cattle as this family raises (several hundred), a few are bound to get out once in a while. The neighborhood takes it in stride.

Fast forward to this afternoon. I glanced down the road and saw five cows and three very young calves grazing their way up the road. Oh great. Freelance cattle.

Normally this wouldn't be a big deal, except these animals were conspicuously not the same breed as those raised by the folks down the road from us.

We started checking in with neighbors, who reported (a) yes, the animals have been hanging around everyone's respective properties all day; (b) they do not belong to the family down the road; and (c) neighbors have been calling around, trying to find the owners, to no avail.

Immediately upon seeing the cows right below our house, Don and I sprang into action. Don went to close the lower driveway gate so the freelance cows wouldn't wander onto our property.

I called our own livestock in and secured them in the corral for the evening, since I didn't want to risk any fences being breached by our animals (notably our steer, who may not be as steered as we'd hoped when we castrated him as a calf; while he's never managed to impregnate anyone, he sure does act like a bull) in their eagerness to greet the newcomers.

Our actions were none too soon. The freelance animals lingered right in front of our driveway gate, cropping down the grasses. Had the gate been open, we would have had visitors.

From the corral, our own cows could see the freelance animals as they moved up the road. They were very interested, mooing and bellowing.

I noticed a brand on one of the cows. Don and I both looked up brands for this region and found absolutely nothing. Side observation: That is one massive cow.

Bottom line, no one has any clue where these animals belong.

We half expected to find the freelancers on our front lawn, since we have no gate blocking it off, but instead they diverted down a side road and disappeared from view down the hill in the same direction as I heard them coming up yesterday evening.

It was a very hot day, about 96F, and I'm guessing these animals have not had much to drink in the last 24 hours. I hope they find their way home.

Bonus photos of our animals in the corral. Here's Lucy:

Romeo:

And Maggie licking her yearling heifer Stormy:

Watch out for baby humans

No photos, sorry, so you'll have to use your imagination.

Our pastor and his wife dropped in for a visit the other day. We're always happy to see them, and their two-year-old son "G" is a joy to be around.

But, being a toddler, G got restless with all the adult conversation, so after a while Mrs. Pastor and I took him outside to show him the cows. We figured he'd be fascinated by the bovines since he's never seen any such animals up close before.

I forgot to consider, however, that the cows had never seen a baby human up close before, either.

I mean seriously, none of them had ever seen a child, much less a toddler. They stared at G, enraptured.

I hitched G up on to my hip and carried him through the gate to where all three animals were staring at him intensely. G was quiet and very well-behaved, but it made no difference to the cows. If we tried walking up to one of them, they dodged away.

Even our steer, Romeo, backed up stiff-legged when I tried to get G close enough to pet him. Maggie scooted away when we got too close. These are animals, you understand, who are always up for a pat on the rump or a scratch on the chin. Not this time.

Watch out for those baby humans. They can be scary, apparently.

As it turned out, G was far more fascinated by the tractor rather than the cows. He climbed right up into the seat and spent the next twenty minutes vroom-vrooming over the steering wheel. He's all boy, that kid.

Greener grass

Last year, you might remember, we subdivided our larger pasture.

This allowed us to add additional rotations for cattle grazing. It also allowed us to have the garden fences down while we worked on strengthening and raising the fences against deer (the garden is carved out of a slice of the pasture), since the cows were restricted to the upper portion while we worked.

As a result of last year's garden-fencing efforts, we didn't release the cows into the larger pasture until late June. While the grazing was certainly great, it was past its peak.

This year we had no such restrictions. As a result, we opened the gate to the larger pasture last week, and let the cows into their little slice of bovine paradise.

We started by opening the gate (translation: peeling back some of the field fencing right at the corner of the garden) and giving our "Bossy bossy bossy!" call. Maggie was the first to investigate.

Romeo and Stormy soon followed. "Hey, look at all this grass!"

Maggie looks at the garden. "Hey, can I get in there?" No, you can't.

This time of year, the pasture is at its peak lushness.

Don has a theory about pasture quality. When cows are grouped together when grazing, it means the pasture is lush. When they're scattered apart, the quality is less. Right now, the cows are always grouped together.

A couple hours later, the cows were bedded down, chewing their cud, looking about as happy as cows can look.

Speaking of Maggie, our Jersey cow, she's looking more and more ponderous.

She was bred on September 8, so according to an online bovine gestational calculator, that means her due date is June 12, a month from now.

Unlike last year's unexpectedly early birth of Stormy, however, this time we're ready. We have the milking stall and calf pen built and all the quirks worked out. As her due date grows closer, we'll take the animals off the larger pasture and restrict them to the small pasture right below the house, so we can keep an eye on Maggie. Fresh milk soon!

The price of beef

The price of beef has been on everyone's mind lately.

According to the USDA, the average price of beef jumped from $8.40 per pound in March to $10.10 by December 2025.

A number of recent articles reflect these concerns:

• Food inflation in America

• RFK Jr. Urges U.S. Ranchers to Ramp Up Beef Production

• The cost of this grocery staple is nearing record highs — and Americans can't get enough

• U.S. Beef Cow Cycle Low Set To Deepen, Keeping Steak Prices High

• Beef Prices Surge As Drought, Aging Workforce Shrink U.S. Herds

• Drought And Costs Shrink America’s Cattle Supply: Beef Prices To Stay Elevated

• U.S. beef industry in crisis: Record prices, shrinking herds and mounting pressures on ranchers

We haven't bought beef in decades since we raise our own, so I wasn't familiar with what kinds of prices people are facing. So in late February, I stopped at the beef department of our local grocery store ... and was appalled.

Ball-tip steak, choice grade, $9.99/lb., $13.24 for the package:

Beef top sirloin, $11.99/lb., $9.83 for the package:

Rump roast, $5.99/lb., $20.73 for the package:

It is for these reasons, among many others, that we're aiming to have one animal a year in our beef pipeline.

Unlike our last homestead where we often had 15+ animals, here we don't have the room to raise more than a handful of cows at a time, preferably fewer. We have limited grazing, so we must accept the fact that we're feeding (or supplementing) our animals the majority of the year.

We butchered two animals recently: Filet in August, and her daughter Mignon in February.

Filet was an older and tougher animal (10 years old at the time of butchering), so we literally had the butchers turn her entirely into ground beef, with the exception of as many cube steaks as he could produce. This is the receipt for Filet's processing costs:

Mignon was two years old, prime butchering age, and we had the butcher give us the full range of cuts. This is the receipt for Mignon's processing costs:

As you can see, the butcher charged us about $1/lb for processing (a bit less for all cuts except cube steaks, which cost a bit more). Total costs for both butcherings came to $1255.45. Also, we paid the dispatcher (the fellow who comes to our place to dispatch the animal) $160 for each dispatch, a total of $320 for both animals. This brings the total butchering costs for two animals up to $1575.45.

Since I'm currently working on our taxes, I had the opportunity to tally up how much we spent on hay last year. It came to a total of $2500. Divided by five animals (Filet, Mignon, Romeo, Maggie, Stormy), that averages out to $500 of hay apiece. (Clearly this isn't an exact science since some animals are older and eat more, some are younger and eat less, but whatever.)

So add $1000 in hay costs for both Filet and Mignon. Now let's double that for the two years we've had Filet and Mignon, for a total of $2000 in hay costs. This brings the cost of raising the animals to $2575.45.

Let's go back even further and include the purchase price of Filet and Mignon, which was $1500 for the two of them. That brings the overall costs to $5075.45. [NOTE: I made a math error and incorrectly tallied this as $4075.45 earlier; these figures have now been corrected. Sorry about that!]

Between both animals, we got a total of 1319 lbs. of beef in various cuts. This gives us a total cost of $3.85 per pound of beef, for everything from lowly ground beef to premium steaks. Less than four bucks a pound.

When we picked up Mignon in February, we had 11 crates of meat.

This filled our spare freezer almost to the brim. (This is why we have back-up power sources for freezers.)

As we were packing this meat away, I took a couple of T-bones and prepared them for us for lunch. It was melt-in-your-mouth delicious, definitely "prime" grade. With the blessing of this much abundance, we can be generous with friends.

Romeo and Stormy are the next animals in our beef pipeline. We'll put Romeo in the freezer next year, and Stormy the year after that. The cost of raising them is even lower because we didn't have any initial purchasing costs, and both their breedings were free. That could conceivably bring the per-pound cost for them down quite a bit. Meanwhile Maggie will be producing more calves. Her upcoming calf will be a heifer, but thereafter we'll select for steers, which we'll raise for beef.

The blessings of a homestead.