Snapper Snaps

Where did that rock come from? It wasn’t there when I mowed the barnyard three days ago.

Coming down the loft stairs with an armload of hay for the llamas, I walked over to check out the new bump in the grass. Yikes! A female snapping turtle had dug a nest and was laying eggs. I wasn’t successful in getting a photo of the blacksnake under the steps last week, but I was able to get back to the house for my camera before this ugly beast lumbered off.

With our farm nestled between two creeks, we are accustomed to seeing these repugnant reptiles on a frequent basis. They’ve taken up residence in our pond, and occasionally we’re lucky enough to witness a pair doing the turtle tango.

The snappers around here are known as the Common Snapping Turtle, as opposed to the Alligator Snapping Turtle found further south. They rarely come on dry land, spending all their time in the water. If you see a turtle walking about, it most likely is a female looking for a place to lay her eggs. They generally lay from 10 to 50 eggs which will hatch in 3 to 4 months. The female will dig a hole with her back legs, deposit the ping pong size eggs, then cover them back up with dirt and smooth it over with her tail.

Not only are they ugly, but they are mean. That neck can dart out in an instant and stretches to nearly the length of their body. I always hate to see them in the pasture, because I’m afraid that a curious llama might bend down to sniff a snapper and get his nose bit. Once I used a shovel and a wheel barrow to load a turtle and wheel her 100 yards to the creek, but today I decided to just let her be and keep the llamas in their paddock for the day.

Last year about this time, we encountered a large snapper while on one of our llama treks. We were hiking a trail along the Shenandoah River, and came upon this turtle laying smack in the middle of the trail. The first five llamas and their handlers passed her to her rear side, but with each passing llama, she got more and more agitated, and when the fifth llama walked by, the turtle spun around and thrust out that neck and hissed. Jesse, the sixth and last llama in the string, was not going anywhere near that turtle, so I called up to Tim to come get it out of the path.

He found a 4 foot long stick and starting nudging at the turtle to encourage it to move out of the way. This really ticked the turtle off and she started biting at the stick. The stick kept getting shorter and shorter, till it was only about a foot long. Finally she moved enough that we could scurry past.

I’m told that the force of their bite is greatly exaggerated. Apparently they can’t snap off fingers and toes, and they will let go before it thunders, but I, personally, am not taking any chances. They haven’t survived for 40 million years by being shrinking violets.

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Snakes, Snails, and Puppy Dog Tails

At the barn this morning feeding the llamas, I climbed down the loft steps with an armload of hay and spied 6 inches of shiny black tail sticking out from under the bottom step. Peeking under the steps, I saw the owner of said tail, another 4 feet of glossy, scaly black snake. I don’t have a fear of black snakes; rather they are good to have around for the most part. They do steal bird eggs from the nests of eager avian parents, but they also catch mice, moles, and voles that cause a lot of damage around the house and barn.

It’s unusual to see a still black snake. Usually, I’m startled by them as they are darting in their slithery “S” fashion trying to get away from me. But this snake was completely motionless. My first thought was that it had been mauled by the barn cat, but closer inspection showed he had no external injuries. He was laying stretched out to his full length, with his head elevated a couple of inches off the ground. I guess the early morning coolness had slowed down his metabolism. I just left him be as I continued my chores.

Returning to the steps to close up the loft, I looked for the snake, but he was gone. I scanned around the foundation of the barn, and in the surrounding grass, but he was not to be seen. Too bad, I was hoping to go back to the house and get the camera to get a shot of him. I climbed the 10 steps to the loft, my mind chewing on the missed opportunity to get a close up photo of the snake, when I put my foot on the top step and saw 6 inches of shiny black tail dangling out the door.

No photo of the snake, but here’s what the steps look like

That startled me. I had no idea he could negotiate those open steps, but here he was stretched out on the floor of the loft and hanging out the door. Now, I’m not averse to non poisonous snakes, but not to the point that I’m going to pick that thing up by the tail and fling it out of the barn just so I can close the door.

So, what the heck, the door can stay open for the day. And I still have the opportunity to get a photo. But not to be. Upon returning with the camera, the snake was not to be found. I’ll have to be on my guard whenever I move a bale of hay, just in case he’s decided to bunk with the cat.

On to the Puppy Dog Tails. Bayley got spayed 2 days ago and to keep her from licking at her stitches, we fashioned a shirt for her.

This is a tank top of mine that is on her upside down. Her tail is through the neck hole, and her back legs are through the arms holes. Then we tied a knot at the waist to cinch it up.

So far it’s doing the trick. But how in heaven’s name do you keep a rambunctious puppy quiet for a week. Without her being able to do her crazy dog dash around the property twice a day, she’s taking out her pent up energy by: chewing holes in the bedspread, ripping the edges of our hand loomed woven llama rug, gutting all of her stuffed toys, fraying her leash, gnawing on chair legs, nipping our ears in bed…. Yikes! Will she survive the week?

And as for the snail part, I haven’t actually seen any, but I did see a turtle. Does that count?

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Happy 1st Biannual Birthday to Bayley

What can be more tedious than the parent or grandparent that constantly boasts about the achievements and genius of their progeny? Perhaps someone that talks incessantly about the brilliance and accomplishments of their dog. However, I DO have the cutest and most intelligent puppy on earth, so I am completely vindicated.

Bayley turns 6 months old today. I won’t go into all of her amazing accomplishments here. Just suffice it to say, that after completing basic Puppy obedience Levels 1 and 2, her instructor exempted her from Adult Level 1 and promoted her directly to Adult Level 2. Bayley is always selected to be the demo dog when the teacher wants to demonstrate a behavior.

At 6 months, she’s entering puppy adolescence, the equivalent of the human teen years. I’ve been warned that she may start to get hard headed: not coming when called, not doing what she is told. She may not want to be seen walking next to us and will probably start playing virtual Frisbee on the Xbox.

She’s already changed the spelling of her name. We thought we had chosen a rather unique name for her and originally spelled it Baylie. It must be the season for the name regardless of the spelling: Bailey, Bailie, Bailee, Balie, Bayleigh…. There are several dogs we have met with that name. In fact, a male lab puppy in her obedience class was named Bailey. She wanted to be distinctive, so she decided to spell her name Bayley. So typical of young girls at that age.

It’s amazing what dogs learn from one another, both good and bad. Bayley has a 7 year old Bearded Collie sister who is remarkably calm and well behaved.

Bayley thinks that Mayzie hung the moon. From her, Bayley has learned much more about what is expected of a good dog in this household than I could have ever taught her. On the other hand, Mayzie has also taught Bayley that the vacuum cleaner is a fearsome fire breathing dragon, and to hide in a corner whenever it starts to roar.

In the four months that Bayley has lived with us, our daily barn ritual is a constant. Twice a day, I walk down the road with both dogs to the barn to take care of the llamas.

Mayzie will come inside the pasture fence and lie down by the gate and wait for me to do my chores. Bayley, my little shadow, will follow me around as I put out the hay, fill water buckets, and rake up poop, which takes me about a half hour. All the while, Mayzie waits patiently by the gate.

Last week, after obedience class, I returned home with Bayley in the car at llama feeding time. We drove straight down to the barn, leaving Mayzie in the house. Bayley initially didn’t want to get out of the car because Mayzie wasn’t along, and this is a team effort. I left the car door open and went about my work. A few minutes later I looked around to see if Bayley had gotten out of the car. Scanning around, I spied her lying by the gate right in Mayzie’s spot. I imagine she was thinking that guarding that gate was an important job, and since Mayzie wasn’t there to do it, she would have to step up to the task. Oh, to spend a day in my dog’s head.

Bayley's Brain

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I’ve Been Tagged

After writing my post entitled “Hair Apparent” a couple of weeks back, I decided to embrace my passion for long haired animals. I will always have hair blowing around my house, clinging to my clothes, and hiding in my food, so I ordered up a personalized license plate to proudly display my affliction to the world. It arrived yesterday and I just love it.

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Shear Fear

We got the llamas sheared, finally. It is always a daunting task cause it’s dirty and tiring work. It takes up about 1 ½ hours per llama to blow, brush and style and we have 8 llamas. It has been a strange spring. Early March we had 80 degree days, so we scheduled our first shearing day for the first weekend in April. That week the temps plummeted to below freezing at night, and we were afraid some of the lighter coated boys would get chilly. So we did four of the heavy wool guys first, and yesterday, finished up with the other four. Here are a couple of before and after shots of the llamas.

I think they look pretty good, if I do say so myself.

Before and After Shearing

We counted up the years, and were astounded that we have now sheared the llamas for the 10th year. Hard to believe how the years zoom by. The llamas get an annual body cut to cool them down in the summer. I cut them with Fiskers spring loaded scissors. I’ve never used an electric clipper as I don’t like the close cut and the furrowed look. The scissors take longer, but give me more control and finesse.

You’d think that with all the hours I have under my belt shearing llamas, I would have more confidence to jump in and start shearing my new goldendoodle puppy, Bayley.  Bayley has just turned 5 months. I’m not sure when to start the clipping. So far, she is brushing out with no mats, and her hair is about 3 inches. I’m thinking I’ll wait until she becomes too difficult to brush and just let it grow in the meantime. It’s gotten cooler here in the last couple of weeks, back to more normal temps in the 50s and 60s. If she looks like she’s too hot, I’ll have to jump on in.

I’d like to do the clipping myself, rather than risk being totally dissatisfied with what the groomer may do. But I know nothing of electric shears, and I’m planning to do her with scissors. I just start to hyperventilate whenever I think about putting scissors to her hair.  But, I’ve always heard that the difference between a bad haircut and a good haircut is about 2 weeks.

Bayley at 5 1/2 months old

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Bayley’s Song “When I’m 64″ (pounds)

Bayley, our 5 month old Goldendoodle, has overheard us discussing the fact that she is going to be much larger than her 50 pound parents, and has gotten the mistaken idea that we won’t love her as much if she gets too big. I caught her on the computer last night writing this song:

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Hair Apparent

Anyone who knows us, knows it is apparent that we prefer animals with a lot of hair. We have Bearded Collie dogs with 12 inch long hair and we have llamas with loads of wooly fur.  Our recently departed cat was a main coon cross, and had at least 4 inch long hair. She deposited hair on every horizontal surface in the house. As I’m thinking about it, there was cat hair on most vertical surfaces as well. Tim even succumbed to the pressure and decided to grow a beard several years ago. We burn out vacuum cleaners on an annual basis.

The odd thing is this. With all this hair blowing around, it is inevitable that occasionally a hair will appear in our food. We joke that dog hair is a condiment in our house. And when I find a hair on my plate, I will pull it out of the food and identify it. “Oh, that’s Mayzie’s hair” or “that must be a llama hair”, and I think nothing of it and continue my meal. But if I see a human hair, even if I’m positive that it is my own, I suddenly lose my appetite and dinner is a done deal. Go figure.

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Goodbye, Bonny–Notes to My Departed Dog

I lost my soulmate, my 15 year old Bearded Collie, Bonny, about 6 weeks ago. I have wanted to write a tribute, something that would be worthy of her indomitable spirit and her zest for life, but all my attempts have fallen short.  I decided to write some notes to Bonny. Hopefully she will feel the love and know how much she is missed. She was never critical of my writing, never critical of anything at all.

Bonny, I still look for you on my quiet walks through the woods. Could you be just over the bank, wading in the creek as you were wont to do?  You always were one to sneak off when my mind was diverted, and it takes me a moment to remember and realize that you won’t be coming back this time.

Is there a creek where you are? Are there deer to chase? Buzzards to bark at? You so loved to chase the buzzards. You’d run like the wind beneath them, lifting your front feet into the air as if to say, “Please, oh please, I want to fly with you. Your long ears would be flapping like the wings you wished you had.

Is Cayce there with you? I hope that you have found her and that you are romping in the fields as you used to do. I remember how it broke your heart when she passed away. Mayzie is also broken hearted and misses you so. She knew that you were very ill, and somehow, she understood that when we took you away and you didn’t come home with us, that you had gone to a better place. She is not the goofy puppy (even at 7 years old) that she was. She seems to have lost the sparkle in her eyes. Please tell her to be happy.

I’ve tried to spoil her and make her feel special. She actually has learned to catch a Frisbee. Can you believe it? Now that she’s not under your shadow, she finally got the confidence to claim the Frisbee as her own. But I think we have created a monster. She wants someone to throw the Frisbee all day long.

I know that another pup can never fill the void that you left in my heart, but we got a new puppy a few weeks ago. I can’t help but compare her to you when you were a pup. You were a willful imp, but you were the most endearing dog one could ever hope to have. God, I miss you so.

Mayzie is struggling to keep her sanity with our young Baylie. She has infinite patience with the pouncing and hair pulling, which you, as you remember, did not have. I’m hoping that in time they will grow to be good friends, just like you and Mayzie eventually were.

You were the most beautiful dog on the planet. Never have I seen a more gorgeous dog. You were a high maintenance blonde. Everything was about you. You doted on attention, and never met a stranger. You had the greatest gift of all. You made everyone smile. I am smiling through my tears.

I loved to stare into your eyes, infinite pools of green. I could feel how much you loved me. I hope that you know how special you were to me. I can hardly bear to look at your photo. It brings so much pain to know that I can’t stroke your ears and play with your golden hair.
Do you visit us? Are you able to come back to our world from yours? I often sit still and try to feel your spirit. I’m not sure how to know if you are with me? Can you give me a sign?
They’re calling for snow tonight. Not much, just an inch or so. Do you get any snow there? You were always so happy when you could run and play in the snow, until your feet turned into snowballs, and you’d beg to be carried… all 52 pounds of you.

I remember all the good times we had at the beach. It was your favorite place to be in the world. Even as you aged, you always became a puppy when we walked in the sand on the beach. I am so glad we had one last trip to the beach before you left us. It’s hard to believe that it was only two months before your death that you were prancing along the shore and riding on the prow of the little john boat as we putted around the marshes and inlets.

You were not a ditzy blonde, you were a rugged and brave defender of your territory. You remember tangling with the raccoon and getting bitten on the nose? You scared me to death. There was so much blood everywhere, I thought you had been ripped apart. A face washing revealed only two small punctures on your nose. And the time you grabbed the possum from under the fir tree and shook him till he died. Only to find him mysteriously gone 10 minutes later. That’s why they call it “playing possum”. You even chased a bear out of the yard after he broke into our chicken coop. And the worst of all was the night you took on the skunk. At 2:00 am. AND, Mayzie got sprayed, too. What a night.
Life was never dull with you, Bonny. You were pretty as a cover girl, but a farm dog at heart. You loved helping with the chores. I miss having you ride at my feet in the Kubota RTV. Mayzie still claims the front seat, so we’re training Baylie, the pup, to ride in your place on the floor.

I think even the llamas miss having you around.

Goodbye, Bonny. I hope to be reunited with you someday over that Rainbow Bridge. In the meantime, I will still look for your sign that you are looking over us. I love you.

Post Note:Thank you Bonny, I got your sign. Shortly after putting the finishing touches to my notes to you, I put the puppy, Baylie, to bed in her crate. We keep the crate in our walk-in closet, and when I settle her down for the night, I lay a faux mink throw in front of the cage and lie down with my fingers through the wire. She nuzzles up to my fingers, and when she has dropped off to sleep, I sneak into my own bed. Mayzie is jealous of the extra attention that I’m giving the puppy, and she generally sulks on her settee at the foot of the bed. Last night, as I lay on my mink blanket, I felt a warm nuzzle at my ankles. Mayzie came and lay down in the doorway of the closet and put her head on my feet. Maybe Mayzie was being empathetic and sensed my grief and was coming to comfort me. I’d like to believe that you came to Mayzie, and through her, gave me the sign I needed, to let me know that you were with me and all was well. Bonny, love, be at peace.

Mayzie and the new pup, Baylie

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Llamas Can Count, You Know…

Well, at least up to two!

5 years ago we had fat llamas, a common affliction of llamas in the United States. You see, llamas originated in the Alto Plano of South America where vegetation is sparse.

Llamas on the Alto Plano
Photo courtesy of dreamstime.com

By necessity, they evolved to have a highly efficient digestive system and a genetically induced compulsion to eat whenever they see food. Then—bring them to the Southeast United States where grass grows an inch a day, and what to you get?—Fat llamas.

It does seem contrary to common logic that an animal can get fat on grass. After all, when we go on a diet, what do we eat? Salad!

So after having llamas for 5 years and allowing them to free graze on our lush pastures day in and day out, we finally realized that we had a problem and needed to take action. The average ideal weight for our llamas is about 325 pounds. They were as much as 100 pounds overweight. That’s 30% too much. Think of a 120 pound woman that gains 30% of her weight. She now weighs 160 pounds. Not a pretty sight, and more importantly, not healthy.

So our solution was to fence in a ½ acre paddock beside the barn that was wooded and had no grass. There, we could control their feed; measure out their hay and monitor their weight. We named the paddock “The South Beach”, for the popular diet craze of the time. For one full year, the llamas lived in the barn and South Beach. Each week we would weigh them and adjust their hay portions so that they maintained a weight loss of 3-4 pounds a week. Finally, success! We had fit llamas rather than fat llamas. They looked healthier and felt better. They frisked on the fields, and trotted on the trails.

But the hardest part of any diet is the afterglow; that time when your goal has been met and the diet is done. How to keep the weight off? We couldn’t just throw them back out on the pastures. In no time, they would blow up again. So we devised a maintenance plan to rotate llamas on and off the grass and limit their time on the pasture depending on their needs. As with people, llamas have different metabolisms. We have a couple of llamas that are high energy and don’t tend to gain weight, and then we have a couple that can gain weight eating air.

So the pattern soon emerged that I would let two llamas out on the grass each morning and bring them in late afternoon. The pairing changes daily and I am now quite adept at cutting out the llamas that I want to go out. I bring the llamas into the barn to eat their grain while I scatter out their measured hay in the paddock. The side door of the barn leads to the South Beach, and the front door opens to the greener pastures. I open the side door to the South Beach, and as the llamas are jockeying for position to get out the door, I use hand signals to guide a llama to the front door and release him.

Barn and the Southbeach

This is a photo of our October snow from last week. You can see the Southbeach to the right of the barn.

The llama, currently known as Prince, has figured out how to play the system. While all the other llamas dash out to the South Beach to claim a pile of hay, Prince hangs back, eternally hopeful that today will be his day. He used to hang back until he was the last llama in the barn and I had to shoo him out, but I have noticed lately that he has started counting. He knows that I am only going to let two llamas out, and he hangs behind until I have released the second llama out the front door. As soon as he sees the 2nd llama go out the front door to the pasture, he knows that’s it, and he quickly dashes into the fray so as not to be the last llama out the door to the South Beach to claim a pile of hay.

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Trick or Treat–Mother Nature’s Way

The photo says it all. IT’S TOO EARLY, DAMMIT!

8 inches of the wettest, heaviest snow possible fell on October 29. Last Saturday, we enjoyed a llama hike in the Shenandoah Valley and the leaves were at their most perfect.

 

Had this snow happened 30 days from now, it would have been a non event. But the leaves on the trees were great snow collectors, causing huge, beautiful trees to break under the weight. We were very fortunate in that we didn’t have any big damage. But we were diligent. During the height of the storm, after about 6 inches had already fallen, we spent 3 hours walking around our 20 acre property, shaking the snow off all the trees that we could budge. Our  dogwoods and newly planted birches and willows were bent to the ground, but after we unburdened them of their load, they popped right back up.

Morning Coffee with Mayzie

Despite losing power for 8 hours, the snow was quite beautiful. Even as it fell, the temperatures were above freezing, so it was melting and falling at the same time.

Sublimation

Sublimation “The process of changing from a solid to a gas without passing through an intermediate liquid phase”. Quite eerie, and appropriate for the Halloween weekend, the melting snow creates a fog over the pastures.

Crop Circles in the Snow

Even with 8 inches of snow on the ground, the mowing tracks are still visible.

Serving Breakfast

Yea! Hay!

Frosted Flakes for Breakfast

I layed out flakes of hay on top of the snow since there wasn’t any grass visible. The llamas were quite non-plussed when they stepped out into the snow, but soon spyed the hay and so starts a new day.

Frost on Leaves

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