I Got New Steps

I think it's probably clear to anyone who has been reading here for awhile that we do not live in a luxurious home. I mean, it's great for our family, but it's not really a normal house. What it is, in fact, is a 1972 single-wide trailer with owner-built additions from the 90s. It's old, with some very, um, unique elements.

We--by which I mean A.--have fixed or replaced some things over the past several years, but it's always an ongoing project.

The most recent phase of our very slow remodeling was the front-door steps. They were pretty bad, just a too-high concrete slab with some cinder blocks underneath, the whole thing covered in nasty old white carpet.

After removing the carpet.

I asked A. if he could put new steps there that weren't quite so steep. He decided to do this with brick, as brick is flatter and more regular than the irregular stones he usually builds walls with.

He kept the existing concrete, which saves quite a bit of time and materials. He just covered them over with bricks. This also had the benefit of raising the height of the step under the door to much closer to the actual door level.

After A. had laid out all the bricks and started putting the mortar in the cracks, Poppy asked if she could help. Mortaring isn't heavy work, nor is it particularly difficult, so he showed her what to do and left her to it.

She did almost all of the mortaring herself. It took her about five hours, and she did a very good job.

Mini mason at work. Ah, to be eight years old and flexible enough to squat like that.

And now we have very nice brick steps that are sort of comical leading up to our not-very-nice trailer.

The lower concrete platform on the side at the right is where the dogs like to lie at night, so as to guard the door. Since we had taken their comfy disgusting carpet away, I bought them an actual dog mat for right there. They were suspicious of it, but seem to be gradually getting used to it.

These steps are much more comfortable for me with my shorter legs to get up and down, as well as looking much better, and I'm very happy with them. Yay, A.

Add Salt to Taste

As we look at a weather forecast that features high temperatures in the mid-90s,* I have excavated all the beer salt out of the back of the cabinet in preparation.

We even have one in a whimsical tiny beer bottle package.

We will need the beer salt to keep A. going when he's out working in the heat. He always does. He doesn't mind doing labor when it's in the 90s, but he does mind how awful he feels if he doesn't stay salted. Not just hydrated, but salted.

A couple of weeks ago when he was building a stone wall and weed-eating for a few days, he would consistently get to the afternoon feeling bad, lethargic and headache-y. He had been drinking plenty of water or lemonade, but was still dragging.

And then he realized it was because he didn't have enough salt.

He doesn't really eat when he's working like that, see, so he wasn't getting salt until dinnertime. As soon as he started adding salt to his lemonade, he was fine and could work all afternoon again.

Because he's putting it in lemonade, he prefers the lime beer salt. I don't know how much he puts in his glass, but enough that he can faintly taste it.

When eldest was working on a fencing crew--a notoriously physically-challenging job, and one he did routinely when it was around or over 100 degrees--his boss gave everyone beer salt on their breaks. They just ate it, which is also an option.

However its ingested, if you also need to work outside in high temperatures, make sure to drink enough, but also make sure to get some salt into you**. 

* I know this is not high for many of you, but it's pretty hot for us here. Even if it is a mostly dry heat. 

**This is, of course, already part of hydration drinks like Powerade, but we don't typically have those. Switchel works, too, but A. prefers the salted lemonade.

It's Woodchuck Song Time!

Today is A.'s birthday! Hooray! That means it's time to honor The Woodchuck Man in song! Hooray!

I've been doing this for a LOT of years now. Thirteen years, to be precise. I guess I used to be better at it, because I used to write multiple verses. Now I consider it an accomplishment to come up with just one lame verse. 

A. does a lot more than the couple of things highlighted in this admittedly somewhat lame song, obviously. But a tradition is a tradition, so here is the one verse for this year's celebration.

(To the tune of "The Candyman Can")

Who can gut the bathrooms,

Then built them back himself?

Who can get an old truck running 

With some parts off the shelf?

The woodchuck man

The woodchuck man can

The woodchuck man can

'Cause he uses what he has and makes it work for him

Happiest of birthdays to A., whose woodchucky ways have served us well for so many years.

The Big Bathroom Reveal

If you've been with us here for the past several months, you'll know that A. and I have been battling to renovate both of the bathrooms in our trailer for awhile now. The trailer is from 1972, and we're pretty sure the bathrooms are original to it. There were leaks. The floors were spongy. The tubs were cracked. The sinks were rusting.

It was ugly. It took forever. But we finally finished.

I don't have a lot of before photos, as it turns out. There's this one that shows the lovely avocado-green plastic tub surround. 

Cute baby, hideous tub.

And this one showcasing the faux-marble vanity top that had yellowed over time.

Lovely.

Those were both in the children's bathroom, which is also the guest bathroom. A. demolished the entire thing while we were in Colorado this summer, right down to ripping up the floors. The only thing he left was the vanity, as it was built into walls on three sides.

He replaced the bathtub with a deep soaking tub, even pouring concrete for its base. And then he put in an external shower system of copper he ordered directly from Morocco. He put in a new toilet. He put down a new floor of plywood and then covered it with Moroccan-patterned vinyl tiles. 

And then I painted. I painted the walls and the cabinets blue, and eventually, I got around to painting the sink and counter with a two-part epoxy paint that was tricky and drippy and time-consuming and absolutely REEKED.

Even with a mask, even with every door and window in the house open, it was overwhelming.

I even used some bronze-colored spray paint on the light fixtures, outlet plates, and cabinet pulls.

Upside-down egg cartons work very well for holding the pulls stable.

And finally, FINALLY, it is done.

Hard to get a picture of the whole bathroom, but this is most of it.

I have even fewer photos for the adults' bathroom. It had the same green tub, same faux-marble counter, same disintegrating floor, with the addition of some water damage on the ceiling from a long-ago leak.

The only photo I have is of the sink before I painted it.

And now it is done.

A. removed the tub, but decided instead of putting another tub in there, he would build a shower stall. He did this out of brick and concrete.

In progress.

And almost done. He still wants to find something to put over the painted walls.

A. did an incredible amount of work on all of this, most of it things he had never done before. The end result is very satisfying, though.

It was worth it, but we're very glad it's done.

Project Vehicles

A few days ago, a friend texted me to ask if we would like to buy the old Jeep they had in their shed. It is an OLD Jeep--1965, I think?--and the engine had seized several years ago, so it was just sitting there. They really wanted to get it out of their shed, and remembered my eldest son's interest in it when he saw it last year during a trip to their house to pick peaches.

These vehicles are relatively rare, and they were selling it very cheaply. A. couldn't say yes fast enough to that. 

We towed it home yesterday.

So jaunty.

Unusually, this Jeep has actual metal doors, a hard top, and a metal back, so that when all those pieces are on, it will be a fully enclosed vehicle. A lot of these just have canvas or plastic or whatever for the top and sides.

Obviously, this is going to be a lot of work to get in working order. The middle son is very enamored of it, though, so by the time he's old enough to drive in three years, it should be ready to go. Not that you can go very far in it--I doubt it would go any faster than 50 miles per hour--but I guess it would be good for hunting or whatever.

In the meantime, A. and the eldest continue to work on the brown truck.

There it is. It's definitely brown. It's a 1982 4X4 Dodge Ram, for those who care. And yes, I had to ask A. what it is.

This is waiting on I think a carburetor--but don't quote me on that--and then it should be running. This son can actually get his provisional license in just a few months, so it's good this one is almost ready to go down the road.

Getting a driver's license in our house apparently means you must be willing to work on a vehicle several decades older than you. 

I'll stick with my new(ish) Honda, though, thank you.

One of these things is not like the other . . .

A Teaser

When we went to Colorado, A. stayed home to take care of the animals. He also took the opportunity to completely demolish the children's bathroom. There were leaks in the tub, toilet, and sink that were causing the floor to buckle, as well as forming an unwelcome swampy area under the trailer. The toilet only flushed with help from an extra bucket of water, and the bathtub was the original avocado-green plastic fixture from the seventies.

It was way past time to address it, is what I'm saying.

So while we were gone, A. pulled out the toilet, the tub, and the entire floor.

The old tub out the back door, awaiting its trip to the dump.

The new plywood floor. Delightfully solid underfoot.

With a great deal of hard work, he managed to have the floor and toilet installed before we got home. Then we chose some peel and stick vinyl floor tiles to cover the plywood. Since these tiles are going in our 1970s trailer-with-additions, we definitely do not need to worry about resale. So we chose exactly what we wanted.

And what we wanted were Moroccan-style tiles in blue.

We're waiting on the tub and shower fixtures to be delivered this week, and then A. can finish putting in all the plumbing. 

I'll post some pictures when it's done. Stay tuned.

Snapshots: For the Woodchuck Man

To my everlasting shame, I did not do my traditional Woodchuck Man* song last year on A.'s birthday. I seem to recall my brain just being fried and not being able to come up with anything.

I'm not doing much better this year, as I only have one verse. But at least I have something! Progress!

Here we go . . .

Who can dig the garden

With a shovel all by hand?

Who can grow a giant pumpkin on his very own land?

The woodchuck man

The woodchuck man can

The woodchuck man can 

'cause he uses what he has and makes it work for him. 

And, since this is supposed to be a snapshots post . . .

The FFA kids were making centerpieces for their Christmas fundraiser dinner this week. It was right outside my office, and it smelled really good with all the greenery around.

In the hallway by the main office. Everyone feels the stress this time of year, I guess.

Poppy stayed home sick one day I had to work. She was very unhappy about this, so I gave her a job: sorting my earrings.

Poppy had a spa day for her stuffed dog and decided they needed "spa cuisine." (That Fancy Nancy book has made quite an impression.) So she made yogurt with strawberry jam, bananas, and pink and purple sparkly sugar.

There you have it! My life, snapshotted. And happiest of birthdays to A.

* The last one was in 2022. It links to all the previous ones.

Happy Halloween

A rare Thursday post mostly to show you A.'s pride and joy:

A. calls it The Plumpkin.

This came from some random seeds of a squash that hybridized. Quite obviously one of the parents was the Atlantic Giant A. grew a couple of years ago, because it got bigger than any pumpkin we've ever had. A. was very excited about it, and decided he just had to make it into a jack -o'-lantern to put by our front gate. So he did.

My contribution to the Halloween decorations was on the table, of course.

Orange zinnias, cosmos, and calendulas, plus some buffalo gourds.

A seasonally appropriate breakfast table.

We will of course be trick-or-treating in the village this evening. This year, we'll have an Arab, Jim Corbett, a lumberjack, and a ballerina. My most important job for the costuming is doing a proper ballerina bun for Poppy. It involves rolling her very long hair around a sock, and it's harder than it seems.

Wish me luck, and happy Halloween! Are you doing anything fun?

We Have a Floor!

Or perhaps more accurately, we have carpet on the floor.

I am speaking, of course, of the floor in my bedroom. This is one of the rooms in which a window broke all the way through during our Severe Weather Event in July. It is also the only room with a blown-out window that had carpeting in it.

That carpet got completely saturated and I had to pull up the soaked part of it. This left an area of particle-board sub-floor at the entrance to my room that was . . . displeasing. To say the least.

Yeah.

The carpet itself was no great loss, as it was a very ugly brown carpet from at least the 1980s. But having part ugly old carpet and part sub-floor was worse.

It still took us until now to get it covered over, though. I am not good about making decisions for things like this, so I spent more time than I should have figuring out what to put in there. 

Laying down actual carpet is pretty tricky, and we have no experience with it. The nearest place that does it is 100 miles away. So I decided instead to try out the carpet squares that are peel and stick.

Many of these are very institutional looking, of the sort you would see in a school or doctor's office. That was not what I wanted. I wanted something that looked like an actual carpet, with some pile to it. 

Most of the options for more carpet-like material for home use were in shades of gray, which was also not what I wanted. I am not into gray, and its ubiquity in interior design things lately is irritating to me. But I finally found some that looked like carpet, were a shade of light brown, and weren't too expensive. 

I had A. do the measuring of the room and the figuring of how many boxes we would need, because I am hilariously bad at such things and would certainly have messed that up in a big way.

I ordered them from Walmart and went through that situation so common nowadays of frequent e-mail updates on the status of my order, culminating in an e-mail two weeks later telling me the order was canceled entirely. I got a full refund, but still. Annoying.

So then I got to do it all again, but this time with Amazon, who actually delivered what I ordered. (I got these, in case you were wondering.) 

And then the boxes of carpet squares sat in our living room for . . . a long time.

It's like an extra table! I guess.

They had to be in the living room because they couldn't get dirty/wet/hot or otherwise messed up, and there was nowhere else big enough to put that many boxes.

So they sat there.

In our defense, I REALLY did not want to try to do this project with all four kids at home. The interruptions and general chaos would have been too much. 

Just feeding them all with all of this surrounding the dining room table would have been a mess.

That meant a Tuesday or a Thursday when they were all at school, but A. and I were both home and didn't have anything else to do.

This confluence of events has not happened much in the past month or so, what with sick children home from school, surgery for one, me substituting at school, A. getting hay, etc.

But finally, FINALLY, I declared Tuesday to be The Day of the Carpeting.

And so we did it.

Well, A. did the carpet part. I did all the cleaning--there was a lot of that--shifting of things, finding of tools, fetching and carrying, and general assistance.

A. did all the demo of the remaining carpet, removal of padding, pulling up wood strips with tacks around the edges of the room, and taking out staples. Lots of pulling and prying that required hand strength that I do not have.

He also did the actual laying of the squares. The reason he did this was because the laying down of these squares, while simple in theory, actually required quite a bit of figuring and cutting to get them to fit snugly up against each other so you couldn't see the seams, and also to fit around closet doors and corners. 

Another thing I would be hilariously bad at. Visualizing shapes has never been my forte. Just ask my geometry teacher in high school.

Anyway.

The instructions for installation on the back of the box were actually sort of complex, recommending snapping chalk lines and moving out from the center of the room in a specific pattern and all that. A. did not do any of that. He started at the door and worked his way through the room from there.

Because we weren't working with all one big piece of carpet (and because we didn't follow the installation instructions), we didn't have to move the biggest furniture out of the room. We did one part of the room, then shifted the bed over onto that. Then we continued until we got to where the dressers are, shifted those onto the squares already in place, finished up, and moved it all back.

Here's a side-by-side in-progress of the new carpet and the old. Ugly brown on the right is the old one.

From the time I started moving furniture out of the room to the time I got it all back in, vacuumed, and everything cleaned up was almost exactly 7.5 hours.

It was very tiring, but I am SO HAPPY to have a real floor in my bedroom again.

A vast improvement.

So! The final verdict on the carpet squares? Recommend.

A. did all the work with them, and he kept saying what a great product they are. Not easy, exactly, but certainly easier than a big piece of carpet that requires laying padding and tacking down and all that. It was very do-able for someone handy like him. Even I probably could have managed it, albeit not as quickly, neatly, or efficiently.

I was sure they would smell terrible to start with, but there was no chemical odor at all right out of the box, which was a nice surprise. Nothing shifted when I vacuumed them after installation, either. I was a bit concerned that the corners or something would pull up, but no.

Two cons I will mention, however. 

A. did an excellent job setting these against each other to make it look as much as possible like a single piece of carpeting. But, if you're looking very closely, you can see a couple of seams in the room where the squares abut. This doesn't bother me in the slightest, especially because 80% of the floor is covered in furniture. But if you're a perfectionist and you're using them in a more open room, it might bother you.

Also, my children, who spend a lot of time flopping on the floor of my room, complained that there isn't enough padding now. There is actually no padding except the bit on the back of the squares themselves, because the squares are laid directly on the hard floor. I guess I can tell the difference when I walk on our old carpeting in the hall and so on, but since I'm just walking on it, not lying down on it like my kids do, I don't care about the small difference in padding.

I have no idea how these will hold up in the coming years, but for now, I have a nice carpet in my room. And that makes me very, very happy.

The China and Platinum Anniversary

Today A. and I are celebrating twenty years of marriage.

And here we are on the blessed day of our nuptials!

A little Behind the Music for you about that photo: We had our wedding reception at Blackrock, which means that tent was set up on the very lawn I would labor on for ten years picking up black walnuts every fall.

My mother and the MiL gathered all the flowers for the church wedding and the reception from the gardens at Blackrock, and arranged them all, too.

The cake was made by A.'s aunt, who is a very accomplished baker. It was so hot that day that the frosting was too soft and the cake was starting to slump.

The bride and groom topper on the cake is surrounded by an ostrich egg. Because our first date was to the Ostrich Festival* in Chandler, Arizona.

A. just got back from New York last night. The traditional gift for the twentieth anniversary is china. The modern gift is platinum. He went with a different kind of gift, though: Despite his exhaustion, he set two rat traps before he went to bed to catch the rat that was running around IN MY BEDROOM yesterday morning.

I don't really want to talk about that. I'm still cringing.

Anyway.

A. has now been my chief rat-catcher for twenty years. An enviable position, clearly.

Here's to another twenty.

* When I went to the website to link to it, I saw the aerial photo of the festival as it is now. That is not what it was like when we went. Twenty years ago, it was not really a carnival so much as an ostrich-themed collection of oddballs selling emu oil and so on.

 

The Tradition Carries On in Song

For the eleventh year in a row, we must sing to the birthday boy. 

That's A., in case you didn't know. And the song we always sing is one I write every year to the tune of "The Candyman Can." I call mine "The Woodchuck Man Can." 

The previous ten versions start here, and if you really want to, you can click your way through the past decade of songs. It might take awhile. That's a lot of songs.

Okay! Here we go!

Who can drive a schoolbus

Through the snow and ice?

Who can build a wall so my garden will look nice?

The woodchuck man

The woodchuck man can

The woodchuck man can

'Cause he uses what he has and makes it work for him. 

Who can build a truck cage

To transport several lambs?

Who can fix the neighbor's chimney high above the rangeland?

The woodchuck man

The woodchuck man can

The woodchuck man can 

'Cause he uses what he has and makes it work for him.

Happy birthday to A., the most useful woodchuck I know.

Boxing Day

Americans don't really celebrate Boxing Day as a general rule, but we did this year. And it was funny.

See, one of the gifts my parents sent for the kids this year was a boxing bag and a pair of gloves each. A. used to take boxing lessons and had been meaning to get a bag for a couple of years now. Our covered porch, built by one of the previous owners, has a frame of welded steel pipe that is perfect for hanging a 100-pound boxing bag. 

A. was sick on Christmas Day, so he didn't hang it right away. But yesterday he was feeling well enough to hang it up. On Boxing Day. Ha.

A. gave a quick boxing lesson first.

Demonstrating a basic combo.

I don't think cowboy boots are generally recommended for boxing.

You think this little lady with the unicorn hairbows is going to be left out?

Think again.

I don't know how Boxing Day is typically celebrated in Britain, but here in the Wild Wild West, whacking a giant sandfilled bag seemed appropriate. And fun.

Song Time!

It's December 15th, which is the birthday of that famous American . . . A.

And, as always, we will sing an original song of my own writing entitled "The Woodchuck Man Can." The tune isn't original to me, though. The words are sung to the tune of "The Candyman Can."

(The most recent version is here, and it links to the previous nine versions should you have a burning desire to read all the versions. Man, I've been doing this a long time.)

Here we go!

Who can dig all the holes

For bulbs to grow in spring?

Who can pull a house down so he can re-build everything?

The woodchuck man, 

The woodchuck man can

The woodchuck man can

'Cause he uses what he has and makes it work for him.

Who can load the van up

To camp with all four kids?

Who can kill a raccoon at night when he is bid?

The woodchuck man,

The woodchuck man can

The woodchuck man can 

'Cause he uses what he has an makes it work for him.

Happy birthday to A., the fastest woodchuck in the west.

La Casita Labors

Yes, we have once again flung (flinged?) ourselves into the joyous and dirty labor of renovating the old adobe house next door. By which I mean we did some more cleaning and covered ourselves in filth.

When we last left our intrepid house-rehabber (that's A.), he and his short assistants had done some spectacular and very satisfying demolition. Leaving a spectacular and not-so-satisfying mess.

That mess sat there for, um, three months.

We're working in fits and starts, okay? Although I'm not sure which are the fits and which are the starts.

Anyway.

A. happened to have his trailer still hitched up from bringing sheep to auction, so the day before a Dump Day (which are Wednesdays, Fridays, and some Saturdays here), I suggested that he drive the trailer around to the casita and we could all go over there to help him load it with detritus.

So he did. And we filled it.

This trailer sure was a useful purchase.

All of this stuff came from the middle section of the house where we tore the dividing wall out.

Looks better than the last time I took a photo of this area.

Karen. asked me last time I posted about this what the layout of the house is like, and I never answered. Sorry, Karen. But I'll answer now! 

So in the above photo, I was standing in the exterior door leading into what used to be the two rooms we combined by tearing out the wall. Not sure what they were used for when the last occupants lived there, but that very first room is one of the original two rooms of the adobe. The other original room is a bedroom, the doorway of which is not visible in the photo, but is to the left of where I was standing.

So the original house was only two rooms. And there were probably like eight kids in the family. 

And there I was, complaining about one kid in four rooms.

Okay, back to our descriptive house layout tour . . .

In the next room up, on the other side of the wall we took down, are two doors on either side leading to added bedrooms.

Through that door straight ahead you can see in the photo is the kitchen. To the left in the kitchen is a door leading to a living room, which in turn leads to the only bathroom. To the right of the kitchen is another exterior door leading to the enclosed porch that houses the rabbits.

I hope that those details are enough to enable you to visualize the layout, because I would certainly not be a good candidate for drawing it. Although . . . I could have Cubby draw it. Maybe I will.

Anyway again.

It wouldn't be a workday at the casita is there wasn't at least a little bit of violent destruction. So we let the children pound at the terrible combination of concrete, nails, and chicken wire that A. pulled down from the exterior walls. I was hoping they would be able to break up the concrete enough that we could dispose of the chicken wire.

Despite their enthusiastic pounding, the concrete remained stubbornly stuck to the chicken wire. Boo.

A. spent some time chiseling the old plaster off the adobe walls in preparation for repairing them and re-plastering.

Tedious, but necessary.

Luckily, that is a job he can delegate to his least-junior assistant, as it is neither particularly dangerous nor difficult. So now Cubby has a summer job. For which he will get paid nothing but the satisfying knowledge that he is contributing to a worthwhile project. Ahem.

So that's where we are with la casita at the moment. I'm not sure what the next stage will be, but you can be sure I will document it. It seems to be a tradition now.

Let's Sing

Today, the one and only woodchuck man turns 40 years old. And that means it is time to sing his one and only song: "The Woodchuck Man Can," sung to the tune of "The Candyman Can."

(There are eight previous versions, but I'm just going to send you back to the most recent one. If you care, you can jump to all the others from that one.)

You ready? Let's go.

Who can fix an old house

Entirely on his own?

Who can butcher a bull down to skin and bones?

The woodchuck man

The woodchuck man can

The woodchuck man can

'Cause he uses what he has and makes it work for him

Who can fix a toilet

With a purple children's toy?

Who can go adventuring with a girl and three young boys?

The woodchuck man

The woodchuck man can

The woodchuck man can

'Cause he uses what he has and makes it work for him

Who can give a haircut

To make the girls look neat?

Who can save a new lamb with his own body heat?

The woodchuck man

The woodchuck man can

The woodchuck man can

'Cause he uses what he has and makes it work for him

Happy birthday to A., the man who brought new meaning to the word "woodchuck."

House Progress . . . and Rabbits

 

So! When we last left our intrepid house-rehabber, he had pulled down the ceilings and was slowly and arduously wheelbarrowing the detritus into the dumpster parked outside the house. He also continued removing paneling from the walls to expose the original stone or plaster, revealing all the many colors the house was painted inside at one point.

He definitely filled that dumpster, which was picked up last week, but he did not quite finish the clean-up. Even absent that handy dumpster, however, the work must go on, so he started filling trash cans and old feed tubs for transport to the dump.

There are still a couple of rooms that need to be cleaned up, but it's beginning to look more like a house that can be worked on, rather than a house that should just be razed.

It's a long time before we will be inhabiting this house, but we've moved in some new tenants in the meantime.

Hasenpfeffer!

We have, in the past, discussed getting meat rabbits, but I'm always reluctant to add yet more animals to our menagerie. Unlike A. and the children, who want allll the animals. 

However, when our neighbor asked us if we would like to take his granddaughter's 4-H meat rabbits--she's no longer doing 4-H, and he's a cattle rancher, not a rabbit-fancier--I couldn't really say no. He wouldn't even take any money for the rabbits. Or the home-built hutch he insisted we take, as well. Or the half-full bag of rabbit food he likewise bestowed upon us.

So now we have six meat rabbits. Two bucks, and four does. 

Our neighbor had them all in the hutch, but we felt bad having them in such a small enclosure.

Jasper sat here by the hutch for HOURS the day we brought the rabbits home. He wasn't the least aggressive, interestingly, he just appeared fascinated. Maybe he thought they needed herding.

Rabbits can actually be somewhat difficult to keep in, due to their habits of digging and gnawing. That's why we put them on the concrete porch of the casita next door. No rabbit is gnawing or digging out of a concrete-floored room with concrete walls. 

We were originally going to separate the bucks with two does each by having the white ones in the casita and the brown ones in the hutch, but we decided instead to put a divider down the center of the casita porch so the brown ones have more room, too. A. is going to do that today.

We might have to use the hutch to separate the bucks after the does have babies, because we're not sure how aggressive and problematic the bucks might become with the young. To be honest, we're not sure about anything, because we've never had rabbits before.

We'll learn, though. And isn't that what life is all about? Growing and learning every day?

Right. Or something.

Boo! Time To Butcher a Bull!

Warning: Dead animal photos ahead.

 

Yesterday, A. made a real grocery run for the first time since August. He went because we had an appointment to get the dogs neutered first thing in the morning. So he left at 6:30 a.m. and returned home around 3 p.m. with a van full of animal feed, groceries, and two very unhappy dogs.

I was still putting those groceries away when our elderly neighbors about five miles away called to ask A. to help them with a bull they had found with a broken leg. It was going to have to be killed--large animals like that are done for if they break a leg, unfortunately-- and the vet they called had told them that if the bull wasn't running a temperature, they could butcher it. 

So they had to take the bull's temperature. And you don't do that for a bull with one of those handy forehead thermometers. No, you have to shove the thermometer into its rectum. 

A. thought this might be a dicey proposition for two eighty-something people and a large bull, so he offered to go help with that. And off he went.

Ten minutes later, the FedEx guy showed up with two big boxes of pantry things I had ordered from Walmart. I was still putting those away when A. called from the neighbors' house to tell me he was on his way home to pick up coolers and all of the family so we could all help butcher the bull.

This is what being married to A. is like, yes.

As soon as A. got here and we had loaded the coolers and made sure everyone was wearing coats and boots, we slithered our way up the muddy road to the neighbors' house.

The bull had been killed near their house, thankfully near the driveway. A. was in such a rush because by this time it was 4:15 and we were going to be out of daylight to work by in just a couple of hours. So A. dropped to his knees in the mud and snow and started skinning.

The neighbor helped some, but given that he's got more than 40 years on A., A. tried to spare him as much as possible.

A. has butchered a lot of animals, but this was significantly different because of the size of this particular animal. There's no way to hang something this big without a tractor to lift it. He couldn't hang it and gut it, as he would with a sheep or a deer. 

So he butchered it the way the Plains Indians butchered buffalo: on the ground.

First he peeled the hide off on one side and cut away the meat on that side. He started to put the meat into the coolers, but it was still steaming hot, which is definitely no good. We needed to get the meat cooled down. And how would we do that without a walk-in cooler?

I know!

The neighbor supplied some very large trash bags, which we spread in the snow so we could lay the meat on them and let the snow chill the meat.

Just chillin'. (Why yes, I do crack myself up.)

Somewhat disturbingly, some of the pieces actually twitched once they were on the snow, as the muscles cooled and contracted a bit. The children thought this was the coolest thing ever, and monitored the meat to see if they could find one that was twitching. 

Little ghouls.

My job was mostly to arrange the meat on those bags as A. tossed it on there. I spread it out and kept flipping the chunks over to cool both sides. I also pulled the bags onto fresh snow as the snow underneath melted. 

A. was cutting as fast as he could this whole time, while our neighbors continuously sharpened knives to keep him supplied with a sharp blade at all times. They have a lot more experience sharpening knives than I do, so I was happy enough just to do the meat flipping.

After A. got as much meat off the one side as he could, we needed to flip the animal. It was still hundreds of pounds, though, so the neighbor got his winch puller and put it on the bull's hind feet. Cubby cranked the winch while A. heaved on the front of the bull to flip it.

Heave ho!

Then more cut cut cutting as fast as possible as the sun set and the light faded. The last bit had to be done with some handy solar lights the neighbors had.

Spotlight on the bull.

When the light was completely gone, A. called it quits so he wouldn't hurt himself. We loaded all the meat into both our coolers and the neighbors' coolers and headed home. 

A. skinned and cut up almost that entire animal in just a little over two hours, which is a pretty impressive feat. 

We just left the coolers of meat in the car overnight, because it was cool enough to do that, but it was too warm today to leave them there. We needed to get them in the freezer. But in what? I didn't have enough plastic wrap or ziptop bags on hand to store all this meat. 

We thought A. would have to take a trip to the closest grocery store (120 miles roundtrip) to get supplies, but I decided to call the guy who runs the tiny store in the village first. I asked him if he had any gallon ziptop bags and he said sure. I asked how many, and he said he buys them by the thousand.

Oh. Okay then. 

So A. only had to drive 20 miles roundtrip to buy 200 bags. Sweet.

We hauled the coolers out and spread the meat out on top of one of the freezers to dry out a bit as we started the butchering and packaging.

Welcome to the meat market.

At this point, it was just standard butchering procedure for us. I set up the dining room table with the cutting boards, knives, bags, and large pots for stew meat pieces, along with a bucket for the dog scraps, and we got to work.

Three hours later, all that meat was trimmed, cut, packaged, and in the extra freezer we brought over just last week from the abandoned house next door. That freezer must be at least forty years old. I was sure it wouldn't work, but A. plugged it in and it started right up. So we brought it over here, thinking we might need it if Cubby gets an elk on his hunt in December.

Instead, we filled it a third full of approximately 250 pounds of grass-fed beef that we got for free. A happy Halloween indeed.