Posts Tagged ‘manure management’
Teamwork Challenged
Yesterday, I experienced a classic example of a frequent challenge Cyndie and I have been navigating to varying degrees over the 35+ years of our life together as husband and wife. Our minds sometimes tend to operate out of sync from one another, despite our best intentions.
It was a beautiful winter day outside, with a lot of blue sky and sunshine, a comfortable temperature, and minimal breezes. We headed out to give Delilah some exercise by letting her run loose in the pastures while throwing discs for her to chase. We walked right past the horses, cutting through their paddock to get out into the hay-field.
On our way back in, Cyndie said she wanted to pay a little visit to the horses. While milling around with them, Cyndie decided to scoop some of the fresh manure under foot. That inspired me to grab a pitch fork and clean the edges of the large pile we have been creating during the snow season.
When she was done cleaning up, Cyndie said she would take Delilah out for one last session of running loose in the back pasture. In a very short time, I was commenting on their quick return.
“Delilah’s tired and I’m getting cold, so we are going to head up.” she reported.
I told her I would finish what I was doing and then follow them shortly. Earlier, Cyndie had asked me what shovel I had used in the past to make a winter path through the labyrinth. I told her the trick is to just walk the route wearing snowshoes, implying we could do that later in the day, after lunch.
As I walked up to the barn to put away my pitch fork, Cayenne turned and approached me for some loving. I soaked up her attention and lingered for what seemed like a long time to me, staying engaged as long as she maintained interest. It’s funny how much hot breath, wet nose, and sloppy tongue seems perfectly acceptable when a horse is choosing to nuzzle and mingle. I searched for a sweet-spot of scratching for her, moving between her ears, neck and chest.
Eventually, what ended our little love fest was Legacy, coming over from the other side of the overhang. I don’t know what reason he had to finally interrupt, but I tried spending a little time with him to see if he was just hoping for similar attention. Since he’s not as accommodating to hands-on affection, it comes across more as though he just doesn’t want her to be getting all the fun.
I finally made my way up to the house, ready for a break and some lunch. Stepping inside, I found no one there. Cyndie must have gone down to the labyrinth already, I thought to myself. Looking out back, sure enough, I spotted Delilah moving around down there. I rallied my energy and decided to join her.
First, I looked in the garage for the snowshoes, but couldn’t find them anywhere. Did we leave the second pair at the lake? Oh well, I’ll grab the plastic shovel, just in case I can find a way to use that to help. The shovel wasn’t where I keep it, either. Frustrated that I couldn’t execute my plan, I walked down empty-handed.
I arrived just in time. Cyndie said she needed my help with figuring out where the turns should be.
Imagine this, it turned out she had brought down the second pair of snowshoes and the plastic shovel, in case I wandered past on my way up to the house.
Now, why didn’t I think of that?
Welcome to my world.
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Hot Compost
I continue to enjoy with fascination how much heat is created by the microorganisms in our compost pile, especially when the outside air temperature drops to double digits below zero (F). I took a picture of the thermometer reading on Saturday morning when the polar vortex had us in a deep freeze.
Our sh*t is cookin’!
That pile consists primarily of what has been cleaned from the barn stalls.
We are also collecting manure in the paddocks and piling it in several spots out there. Although I attempted to swiftly establish healthy sized piles, hoping I could get them to also start cooking, they are all frozen solid.
I’ll be experimenting to see how long it takes for me to bring ’em to life as winter wanes.
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Nothing But
We had nothing but weather around here yesterday. Moments of sunshine, plenty of degrees, and a brief passing rain shower in the afternoon. It was shirt-sleeve time in the morning for cleaning the barn. The warm temps also provided an opportunity to give the waterer a thorough cleaning, which was badly needed.
It was so cold the last time I tried to clean the waterer, the cover was frozen on solid. That time, I did a cursory scrubbing to break loose the green growth that develops on underwater surfaces, but I couldn’t drain it because I couldn’t get that cover off. I tried splashing debris out, but that offered limited results.
Yesterday, while I was cleaning stalls in the barn, Delilah was reacting to the sound of gunshots in the distance and a neighbor’s barking dog, with a cacophony of her own barking in reply. I decided to take a shot at capturing video of her disturbing the peace.
It took a few tries, but eventually, I caught her. She tends to stop when she notices I am up to something that involves a camera. Honestly, I think it makes her feel guilty, and she worries what others will think if her reckless barking was revealed to the world.
If you are brave enough to endure the video below, I will warn you to prepare for some dizzying panning, and a varied level of audio. I haven’t quite mastered the art of using a cell phone to record moving pictures, and I must have been covering the microphone off and on while struggling for a grip that would support the device.
Judy, this is for you. Your request for more video of Wintervale contributed to my decision to give it a go. Thanks for the nudge.
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Smokin’ Hot
Our fertilized dirt factory is cooking big time lately. In fact, my piles have been getting too hot. I have learned that too high a temperature will begin to kill the beneficial bacteria at work, primarily because it coincides with the point when oxygen is getting used up.
All I need to do at that point is stir the pile to aerate it.
That means I should be paying closer attention to the daily temperatures, and not just turning it weekly, as I had been doing.
The picture I took of that pile looks a bit like a volcano, but I don’t think there is any chance of it erupting.
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Good Enough
It has taken me until yesterday to finally get the hitch plate remounted on the ATV, because of the difficulty I experienced removing those two sheared off bolts. Well, and also due to the fact I spend most of my days away at the day-job instead of working on things that need fixing at home!
When gentle methods proved insufficient, I drilled through the bolts in order to use an “easy-out” bit to turn them out. I was able to pound against one of them to break the rust bond, and then it spun out effortlessly. For a minute, I forgot the reality of all such projects and I felt hopeful about quickly finishing the second bolt using the same process. Silly me. It wasn’t to be.
Try as I might, I could not get the second bolt to jar loose from the threads in the frame. And I did try, over and over again. I tried adding heat, I tried cooling with ice. I pounded it in every direction. I soaked it with rust-breaking fluids. I worked repeatedly to get the easy-out bit to rotate, all the while being cautious about not breaking that off in the hole. It never budged.
After days of effort, I was forced to make progress in order to get on with the next task at hand. I drilled out the bolt fragment as large as possible without completely trashing the threads, and put in a smaller diameter bolt that was long enough to secure with a nut on the bottom.
It wasn’t the perfect resolution to the problem, but it was a completely effective work around. The hitch plate is mounted again, and I can pull the trailer for chores. First order of business: relocate the composted piles of manure.
I needed to make new space for manure because I was running out of a place to put it. Out of the 6 piles I had in our composting area, 4 were no longer “cooking.” I spent most of the afternoon distributing composted manure to a variety of spots. Some is being used as fertilizer, but a lot if it is currently being used as fill in areas that need it. That happens to be the most convenient solution to two different issues.
I quickly get new space in the compost area, and at the same time, get to fill low spots that need it most. That’s good enough for me.
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Missed Chance
Choreographing the transition from me being home full-time to manage the ranch, to it now being Cyndie, is proving to be a struggle for my inner control freak. Believe it or not, she doesn’t do things the way I do. If I want things to happen the way I would do them, I need to do it. The other option is that I relax my urge to have things run like I would do it, and let her do things any way she wants.
Yesterday provided a fine example, and I totally missed my chance to hand over management of composting manure. Cyndie had made a pass through the paddock with the wheelbarrow, cleaning up fresh droppings, and came to check with me on where in the compost area to dump the load.
There was my opportunity to invite her to do it any way she pleases, but I couldn’t help myself. I walked with her over to the piles and began to give instructions on how I do it. What was I thinking?
When she rolled the wheelbarrow up, she came in on the wrong end of the piles. It felt like a “Mr. Mom” moment when Micheal Keaton’s character, who had traded roles with his wife, drove the wrong way in the circle of cars taking kids to school.
In the middle of trying to describe the process I have developed and my methods, I realized the folly of my thinking. I could tell by her reaction that this wasn’t going to happen. The job would remain mine. She offered to scoop up manure and stage it for me in the wheelbarrow, but I would maintain ownership of doing the compost management.
I can be my own worst enemy.
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Mixed Blessing
I am struggling a bit to come up with something for today that is worthy of following yesterday’s wonderful guest post by Brooke. That was a big hit, noticeably increasing the number of views by almost double what is normal for Relative Something. It sure was something, and Brooke is my relative, so there you go.
My desperate efforts to accomplish everything I dreamed of doing before we get to leave for Guatemala are being complicated by the fact that I was still needed at the old day-job for yesterday and today, and by the little spring snow storm that paid a visit. They are both mixed blessings.
For helping the old company, I will be rewarded with a bit of unplanned income, so although it has eaten into my time for preparing to travel, the money helps to finance our trip.
The snow is nice because it provides much-needed ground moisture and will soak in, as opposed to just run off. Unfortunately, it also created the additional burden (which I have little time for) of needing to move the horses indoors overnight. That creates work the following day, because I need to then clean out the stalls.
I just spent hours over the weekend tending to the composting manure piles to clear some space for new dumping while we are gone. That space has become significantly less available now after having dumped 4-stalls-worth of manure and urine soaked wood shavings there.
When we return home, I’m going to have a lot of manure waiting to join that pile. I sure hope the composting restarts as soon as the snow and ice all melt.
Meanwhile, I have decided to plan on not posting while we are away. I could use a break from my self-imposed daily grind. However, that doesn’t mean there won’t be posts appearing each day during my little vacation. I have scoured the archive of my Words on Images files and selected a variety that I think deserve a re-showing here.
I hope you enjoy seeing them again. I plan to get back to live posting after we return (if we return) during the first week of April. Holy cow. April.
I’m sure I’ll have plenty of new stories to tell by then. Ta ta for now!
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Count Down
It’s beginning to feel like minutes, not days, until we depart on our travels to visit friends in Guatemala. Cyndie has done a heroic job of rallying to tend to details both necessary and convenient. I was a bit surprised to see her organizing kitchen utensil drawers before we go, but it was a gesture of thinking about making things convenient for those who will be house-sitting for us while we are away.
Our friend and soon-to-be hostess in Guatemala, Dunia, has been calling and sending photos to prepare us, to inspire our glee, and to share their excitement over having us visit. I need to practice staying in the moment so I will be able to fully absorb every minute we have with them, as I am already sensing how quickly our stay of limited days will pass.
Of course, both Cyndie and I have been heard to tease with our family that we will be gone for only a week and a half, …if we come back.
I am noticing mixed feelings about our preparedness to leave the care of our property and animals to a variety of people, some who have had nothing more than one brief visit to inform their managing of our place. I have no doubts about their abilities to take good care of Delilah, Pequenita, and our horses, but I fret over the complications thrown in by weather events that spring is known to unleash here.
After working frantically yesterday to take advantage of the dryness of the upper levels of the paddocks, raking out the divots created when it was soft and wet, the moisture is due to return today with more than an inch of fresh snow. In the days ahead, our animal sitters will need to think about bringing horses in from the cold and wet. That means creating additional amounts of soiled bedding in the barn stalls that will need to be disposed of in the compost pile.
Yikes! There isn’t much room left in the compost space. On Friday I worked to create space at the front of the compost pile so it would be easier to dump manure while we are gone. There is only one small section that is actively breaking down right now, visible on my new thermometer. I will work to ‘restart’ the other zones of the pile after we return from Guatemala, but until then, the pile is just going to grow.
We have some temporary piles established inside the paddocks to reduce the need to haul manure out while we are gone. If the weather doesn’t get too wet and messy, the cleanup should be manageable. I can hope!
Today, while it snows, I will be trying to figure out where my summer clothes are so I can pack for our trip, while simultaneously struggling to compile the last of the necessary tax information to drop at our preparers office before we go.
The minutes are dwindling, and we couldn’t be more thrilled!
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Hooves Trimmed
Taking full advantage of the quick-dry we are enjoying this March, I was out raking the lime screenings on the upper slope around the barn and picking up the never-ending crop of manure the horses like to deposit there. 
As I often choose to do lately, I had Delilah tethered to an outside hook on the paddock fence where she was doing her best to behave like she was an integral participant in my project.
For whatever silly reason that only dogs can understand, she picked a perch that looked like she was claiming ownership of one of the piles I was trying to pick up.
I was hoping to get the area cleaned up in time for the scheduled appointment to have our farrier/neighbor, George Walker, give the horses their routine periodic hoof trimming.
We are starting to get the hang of the process and for the first time since he has been coming to do this, we prepared by getting a halter on each of the horses and tethering them up near the barn in advance. I give Hunter credit for this bit of wisdom, as he always played hard to get when it was time for his turn. George would be stuck waiting while tried to quickly talk Hunter into cooperating.
Quickly cooperating is not something he is inclined to do, especially when it is our agenda and not his.
Case in point, just getting him into his halter yesterday took 3-times longer than it did the rest of the herd. Having done so, the 4 horses were in an out of the hoof trimming station in record time. The only thing that slows down the process is all the precious gabbing we end up doing while George works.
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Measured Freedom
I spotted a recent invitation to connect with an old acquaintance on the career oriented networking site, Linked In, and in a moment of spontaneous whimsy, decided to update my profile to reflect my recent employment change to full-time ranch manager. Who knows? One of my connections there might someday be seeking advice about manure management or moving from suburbia to the agricultural countryside.
As manager, I have decided I should begin establishing and documenting our ranch policies. First off, all visitors arriving from West African countries, Spain, or Dallas, TX, will need to have their temperature measured before entering the property. Also, as a proactive measure, anyone even thinking of visiting the countries of West Africa will be checked for a fever.
Forgive me if that seems insensitive, but my coping method for dangerous or intense situations often involves attempts at humor. That runs the risk of offending if someone reading happens to be directly affected or involved. No offense intended.
Maybe that is why I find myself making so many wisecracks about manure. You see, the title of “Ranch Manager” is just a nice way of labeling the job of manure collector. Sure, I also take care of the dog and cat, manage the maintenance of our fleet of machines, tend to the grounds keeping and forest management, and am the general contractor for all improvement projects, but those activities all happen while I am at the same time scooping up manure.
Yesterday, true to my word, I kept Delilah confined to a leash the entire time I was working on projects. She got one break for exercise when I unleashed her to chase flying discs. When I was working, I always knew where she was. I would describe her reaction to being leashed as, contrite.
I’m pretty confident she understands what is going on. Countless times she has demonstrated a memory for something from a day before. If she was remembering her little escapades from Tuesday, and wanting to return to those adventures, being confined to the distance of her leash was a clear manifestation of having her freedom revoked.
I think both she and I are looking forward to the day we get back to practicing her appropriate measure of free run.
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Relative Something 