animals

introducing… Rhett McTavish

April 7, 2024

Exciting announcemet! A few weeks ago, we added a new member to the Lazy W Farmily. Rhett McTavish is a ten month old Highland with long auburn red hair, abbreviated horns, and deep set, sparkling brown eyes topped with the most ubelievable long, straight lashes. His expression can be described as permanently contended. His disposition is truly sweet with a dab of onery. And he has an overall sense of curiosity about the world. We are all smitten over here, as I know you will be once you meet him.

((rhett mctavish, march 2024))

Why do we keep doing this, you ask? Why do we keep bringing home animals when we know that one day, either terrifyingly soon or many years down the road, their death will break our hearts? Because we are gluttons for punishment, ha.

No. We are not. In fact, this was a hard choice and one not made lightly, with so much grief from wintertime still fresh.

Really, we found Rhett because Miss Scarlett Rose needs a proper companion. While she and Klaus did bond fast and true over the winter months, as she approached her first birthday in February she began showing signs of sexual maturity. Or, if not maturity, then at least exuberance. Enthusism. Our happy go lucky little man was bewildered, unprepared, and basically unsafe playing chasing games like soccer, hide and seek, chase, etc. I had started carrying a “NO MA’AM” stick with us on back pasture walks, and really that is no way for any of us to live peacefully.

As for the horses being potential herdmates, they eventually did relax about her presence in the middle field. She had started sharing hay with them a little, and they all three even napped in the same general vicinity of each other, with no incidents. But Dusty is fifteen, Chanta is twenty five, and neither of them seems interested in soccer or high strung little cows.

Scarlett is a herd animal and just seemed lost. Back in October, we had intended for her to be with Shelby and Shelby’s baby, after all. So. We decided to get a cow for our cow. And the exhaustive search led us to a ranch just north of Stillwater. A woman there had acquired a pregnant cow with no record of the calf’s paternity, so he had no market value as a pure Highland. But he has perfect value to us.

He is as beautiful and endearing as you can imagine, and we care zero for his paternity. We only care that he could travel (which he did, like a champ!) and was young enough to be safe to handle and maybe train a bit (check) and potentially a good match for our girl (time will tell, of course, but so far so good). We just want him to have a long happy life here, grazing and napping and being brushed, you know, just doing lots of cow stuff! And helping Scarlett feel less alone in the world, as she can do for him in return.

If you are wondering whether we intend to breed Rhett and Scarlett, the answer is no. Despite their Gone With the Wind monikers, we intend for them to be companions and hopefully platonic roomies and BFFs for the next very many years or so. He will eventually outgrow her, though for now she has the advantage on not only age but also size.

Edit: Since writing that last sentence a week ago, I should tell you that we have noticed that he has noticed that he has horns. So.

((rhett feasting on hay in late march 2024))

To my point about not breeding Rhett and Scarlett: Before we loaded him into our trailer that day, he was directed into a squeeze shoot and endured the mild indignity of banding, a quick process by which he became a steer, no longer a bull. At nine months old, we thought that surely he was several months away from being ready to mate; but still we felt good about taking this precaution right away.

The last few weeks have been pretty wonderful.

Scarlett spent the first few days bossing him around, making sure he knew it was her pen and her cow cabin and her hay and her mama. But he was undeterred. He just followed her everywhere. They quickly began to move almost as one animal, and he picked up on our farm day routines like magic. It has been fun to watch them interact, bump into each other for treats, and nap within a few feet of each other. He learned immediately that the garden cottage is where we keep their proten feed, so anytime I work in there I can feel someone wacthing me.

((rhett sending me telepathy about needing a little treat))

For one day and one day only, we did observe some romantic behavior between them, but the geometry didn’t quite line up, so we are not worried about an unplanned pregnancy. Also, his banding should soon have taken full effect.

I could tell you cow stories all day. They are both so funny, just full of innocence and insistent about their needs, like toddlers. They terrorize the horses, but gently, and they get the zoomies when loose in the middle field. We love them. Klaus loves them. I think Klaus is also relieved to have someone bigger and sturdier to absorb Scarlett’s considerable energy, ha.

The learning curve has been solid. My husband has a bank of childhood memories from his grandfather’s ranch, and we are surrounded now by cattle ranching friends who help us naviagte the ocean of internet answers when we have questions. We also love our vet. I am fully enjoying it all. I hope that Rhett will soon accept grooming like Scarlett does, but I am in no hurry. He comes straight to us when we walk outside, accepts treats and fly spray, and has shown zero agression. This is a very good beginning. And Scarlett Rose is no longer a lonely cow.

“Friends are the siblings God never gave us.”
~Menicus
XOXO

sir romulus, 2010-2023

July 6, 2023

I have delayed writing this because it is just so hard to accept as real. Early this past Friday morning, we unexpectedly lost a long time and much beloved farmily member, Sir Romulus, the King of Llamas.

Romulus, King of the Snow. Emperor of Ice. Purveyor of the Cold.

Just before daybreak on June 30, I walked to his pen to say good morning and offer breakfast to him and the cats. I found him already passed away, presumably in his sleep.

He had not been sick and was up to date on his wormer medication. He had a great appetite and was drinking lots of fresh water, and he had been as sociable and sweet as ever. The only irregularity I had noticed lately was that he was uninterested in the water sprinkler, even on the hottest afternoons. Llamas can handle almost any amount of cold, even ice, but they are susceptible to extreme heat; and Romulus in particular was opposed to being sheared. So I am worried that the heat was too much last week. I am also worried that he was heartbroken over losing Little Lady Marigold back in January. They were so bonded, after all, and we wondered then how much her death would affect him.

This unexpected loss has rocked us. I still can’t believe it.

We have known Romulus since before he came to live with us in 2011, and even during a short chapter when he lived again with Dean and Maribeth (during a season of particularly dangerous horse conflict) we visited him periodically and loved him entirely. We feel so lucky to have lived alongside this majestic creature for most of his life.

As a solitary male, Romulus was incredibly chill. He coexisted with the Bachelors beautifully.

But then he fell in love with a gorgeous white and caramel-colored llama named Yoko, who would come to be known as Seraphine, and they blessed our menagerie with gorgeous babies. Who remembers Dulcinea? She was her father’s spitting image, though neither of them was much for casual spitting, thank goodness. And of course, the indomitable Meh. Romulus produced this incredibly personable, scrappy little son who has spent the last nine years trying to impress and out-llama his dad.

Once Romulus became a family man, he tapped into his impressive protective nature. One day everything just flipped. He regularly tried to murder the horses if they grazed too close to his woman or their babies, and he even challenged the bison a few times for unknown trespasses. He would pin his ears back, bare his slobbery teeth, vocalize in a deep, guttural, grunting way, and charge forward, mostly on only two hind legs, his sharp front hooves flayed out like knives. It was, and this is no exaggeration, terrifying.

It was hard to be mad at him for these offenses, though, because he was so nobly engaging with perceived threats.

It also bears mentioning here that in the natural pecking order of powerful animals, Seraphine outranked her mate by plenty and had no problem putting him in his place.

Dulcie is annoyed at no longer being the darling of the farm. Seraphine is fussing with Romulus, who is easily cowed down by her. Meh is bright and chipper, oblivious to the conflict.

Despite his dangerous behavior toward the Bachelors, Romulus never once hurt a smaller animal or a person. In fact, he was serenely curious about children, puppies, chickens, and squirrels. Often while gardening I would notice him and Klaus watching squirrels like Wimbledon in the oak trees. And of course, he had the sweetest disposition toward LLM.

I love this photo of a first meeting with baby Laika, two summers ago.

Because of his overall calm with us, we will never forget the day he almost accidentally tossed my husband. One day in the big barn, when Handsome had all the bachelors lined up for shots, he casually looped a lead rope around Rom’s shoulders, attempted to pierce the syringe needle into his massive neck, and experienced firsthand the explosive power of a full grown llama suddenly thrust upright onto his hind legs. Romulus yanked Handsome right up off the dirt floor, like a ragdoll into midair, one slack lead rope connecting them, and made his anti-vaccine wishes known in an instant.

That was the end of that.

Romulus was the very first animal who let me experience the sweet rewards of a long, slow acquaintance. The first few days he lived here, he had free range of the entire farm. He wandered anywhere he wanted and politely declined all attempts to touch him. He nibbled everything. He was quiet and studious and extremely stand offish.

I vividly remember the afternoon I took the photo below. Handsome was at work. I was alone at the farm, work caught up, doing very little except learning this new creature. He and I sat on the grass, about fifteen feet apart, just staring at each other. Staring and staring, Both of us sitting still with our legs crossed. He would tilt his enormous ears in twisty satellite directions, collecting data of his new surroundings, evaluating everything. I remember smiling or breathing in a new way and causing him to twitch, tense, and soften again.

Romulus could hold eye contact without blinking like it was his God given super power. Gradually I could scoot across the grass, just a few inches closer, every few minutes. That was not the day he let me touch him, but it was the day he stopped avoiding me.

Eventually, Romulus grew to love face petting and throat strokes, and of course he was never not hungry for graham crackers, chocolate chip cookies, etcetera. He had a special bond with Handsome and would come faithfully to his voice.

Unless he was holding a syringe.

I love that we never had to worry about Romulus hurting a guest. I love that so many people got to experience his strength and his gentleness.

Who remembers the llama soccer game with Rom, Seraphine, Dulcie, Meh, and all the twenty somethings who were visiting one day?

I will forever be grateful that just a few days before his passing, Romulus enjoyed lots of sweet visitors. Our big family was here for a reunion and anniversary party, and they showered him with attention and treats. Mellowed greatly in retirement, Rom was known as “the nice llama.” He always seemed content with just us over the years, but gosh he became beautifully social and thrived on face time even more than the horses.

We already miss seeing his elegant silhouette in the morning gloom. A few times since Friday, I thought I did see him. I miss scooping his sweet grain over the red gate and sometimes feeding him a little extra through an open cottage window. I miss how he could not resist a graham cracker or similar sweet treat. I miss his tip toe walking, his impossibly long, broomy eyelashes, and his eagle-like brow. I miss his shiny toe-talons and his dark brown, woolly fur. I miss the perfect white mask on his handsome face.

We chose to memorialize Romulus and Little Lady Marigold together.

One more heart felt thank you to Dean and Maribeth for entrusting him to us, and for so much advice and encouragement along the way. Romulus was a gift, a lesson, and a blessing in thousands of beautiful ways.

Goodbye Rom-Diddle,
our sweet Llama in the Middle,
XOXO

an unexpected step towards Chunk-Hi’s wildflower meadow

April 14, 2019

I have a story to tell you, but as usual, I do not know where it begins, so I’ll start at the end and hop around in the middle for a while and see what happens.

Yesterday Handsome and I enjoyed some rainy-Saturday exploring around town that culminated in stopping at a moving sale just a mile from our farm. We met and became happily acquainted with the property owner, who is not only a collector of cool found objects (my husband kinda wanted some of the Pontiac and shop storage treasures), but also an avid gardener and beekeeper. He gave us a tour of their huge plastic-wrapped hoop house and spoke freely of their two bee colonies.

Were Mike (his name is Mike) and his wife not preparing to relocate to Houston to enjoy full time grand-parent-hood, I suspect we could have become good friends. Or at least good neighbors with lots of hobbies in common. I could have stayed in that bright, humid hoop house for hours, talking about native perennials and natural beekeeping and who knows what else. In the hoop house, while it rained harder and harder outside, he spooned up some volunteer echinaceas, straight form the gravelly floor. You should have seen the wild onion gone to seed, it had to be four feet tall, and snapdragons nearly the same size! Strawberries and mums and kale growing everywhere.

Ok, that’s not the story, but now you have met “Mike.” I bought from his sale a large, heavy, rusted wire basket (it is going to become a fun Easter centerpiece), and he generously gifted me the echinacea starts. Also, some seeds. This brings me, finally, to the story.

In the midst of casual conversation, my husband mentioned where we live (just a mile over), and Mike actually knew our place. As so many people have over the years, he remembered us because of Chunk-Hi the Lazy W bison. Mike said he used to drive past all the time just to see what the buffalo was up to, and eventually he asked us what ever happened to him. As we started talking about Chunk, my nose stung and my eyes watered. This happens from time to time, that someone remembers Chunk but never heard the full story of how he came to live with us and where is he now. Lots of people have seen him or read about him but never met him up close and personal. Still, people seem to feel this familiarity with him. It always hits me in different ways.

We learned that Mike had just retired from a job that occasionally put him in the position to entertain overseas colleagues. Visitors from Bangladesh, the Philippines, and other far away places would travel to Oklahoma, and Mike would drive them past our farm to see the beautiful, tame buffalo exploring freely in natural prairie grass and sand wallows.

This unexpected conversation gave us the opportunity to share a few happy facts and memories about our big sweet boy, and though often this type of exchange is more bitter than sweet, somehow yesterday it felt really good, really sweet.

I love the idea of Chunk’s massive, shaggy head and shoulders, his skinny hips, and his butterfly eyelashes being seen and admired by people from around the globe. I loved the notion of our gentle giant being not only our home state’s mascot but also our little countryside’s goodwill ambassador. No matter that none of us knew it at the time. We did saw him trade love and joy with dozens of people over the years. And we can easily summon those memories for each other.

Mike included in his recounting the fact that our front gate was always closed, or else he might have at any of those visits driven up our driveway to meet us and meet the buffalo, our baby.

So. The wildflower seeds.

As we continued some friendly price negotiations over other estate sale treasures, the three of us traded beekeeping best practices (such a fun topic when people are happy to share with each other, not necessarily inform), which naturally led to talk of flowers and bee foraging. I said that we were in the process of turning the front field where Chunk had lived into a wildflower meadow. Maybe my voice cracked. I saw my husband’s head drop just a bit and realized our nostalgia levels were reaching capacity. Mike turned silently away from our small group, disappearing into an office adjacent to his shop, then reemerged with two heavy bags of wildflower seeds. He handed them to me and asked if I would grow them for the buffalo. I accepted the bags and begged to pay him, but he insisted we take them. “No, just grow them in his memory.”

So. Our inspiration all these months to build a true prairie style meadow, and the slow but stunning progress of nature just beginning to take over the hot, sandy front field (the wild stuff is beautiful right now), are being brought along with this perfect gift from a stranger and instant friend. Someone who loved Chunk from a distance has gifted us up close and personal with seeds for the future. Literally, seeds.

We miss you, Chunk-Hi, our innocent and strong Ambassador of Free Spirit and Good Will. You were magical! You were loved by people everywhere, and your meadow is about to be exceptionally beautiful because of the connections you continue to help us make.

The End.

Or, the beginning of Chunk-Hi’s Memorial Wildflower Meadow.

Thank you, Mike!

“Until one has loved an animal,
a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.”
~Anatole France
XOXOXOXO

happy new year from the lazy w!!

January 1, 2019

Happy New Year! The first day of a sparkling new season, a meandering story certainly worth telling. I am so happy to still be here writing, trying to document our life stories and capture some of the learning curve along the way.

Regarding the above photo, two things: I am very excited to soon finish some extensive dental work that could end a lifetime of front-tooth replacement drama. This means I might soon smile for photos with my mouth OPEN, ha. Also, I am loving winter garden tasks lately. So much. Just looking at this, I can smell the cedar and feel the crunch of leaves.

How are you? How was your December-January threshold celebration?

Our last day of 2018 was quiet and well spent. Yesterday while Handsome was at the Commish, I took down all of our Christmas decorations and started cleaning the house. Klaus helped by requiring lots of fetch in between. I also grabbed my final run of the calendar year and started cooking and setting up for a casual dinner with Mickey and Kellie. We had “church” on Monday evening this week, and it ended up being a sweet and perfect New Year’s Eve, just the four of us. I promise to tell you about this project soon, as in this month. Pinky promise.

After we hugged a lot and the Sperrys went home (around 10 p.m.), Handsome and I got into some pajamas and cuddled up to read aloud our 2018 Grievances. This is only the second year we have done this, but we both know it is a favorite tradition that will likely stay with us for the rest of our lives.

It’s so simple, too. We just keep a large empty jar in our bedroom and a supply of blank slips of paper near it. Both of us are free every day throughout the year to scribble down little memories and love notes, details of daily life we want to remember. As with yours, our life is brimming with variety and roller coasters. The details each of us chooses to harness are a lot of fun to read at the end of the year! We cover everything from romance and super romance (brown chicken brown cow, haha) to family updates, farm projects, stressors overcome, community stuff, funny animal stories, excellent meals, and all the stuff in between. You name it, one of us has documented it in short sentences and messy handwriting.

So we accumulate them all year long. Then on New Year’s Eve, at least an hour ahead of the countdown, we take turns reading aloud the other person’s notes. Oh! We call them “grievances” because at some point in 2017 a joke started about filing grievances, something funny, I don’t remember now because we forgot to write that down, ha!

Example, an entry of mine following our Second Annual Talent Show which was rained out and which my husband rescued in one million vital ways:

Anyway. It’s heartwarming and funny, and it is amazing how many big and little events tend to otherwise blur together or standout in weird ways until we read our real-time reactions to them. Does that make sense? It’s a tiny, easy little time warp into our own minds. The things that mattered to us on no particular days in the past. We both love it. And it is funny how many events we both chose to document, unwittingly along with the other.

Okay, moving on.

Speaking of writing and keeping history, this year one of my seven million happy intentions is to blog more regularly, to keep an actual account of daily life. I don’t know whether I have a specialty niche to offer the internet, but as they say, each of us is an expert in our own selves, in our own lives, so that much I can definitely offer. And I will gratefully and freely admit, my husband and I have built and enjoy a really beautiful life here on these nine acres. Lots to share if I just take the time. I hope you will follow along.

I am reading for the second time the small daily devotional called “Jesus Calling.” It was a soothing and inspiring little daily ritual for most of 2018, and I am excited to dive more deeply this year. Plus, I get to read over again the notes I wrote on each calendar date from last year. So much has changed in our life, so many miracles, so much growth! It’s going to be fun to re-experience all of that, including the hard weeks.

Today’s standout scripture is from Romans 12: “Be ye not conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” This speaks to me more vividly all the time. It all starts in our minds, truly. And I crave deeper transformation than ever before. As for the worldly part, also yes. Yes a thousand times. It takes effort, but resisting the push and pull of trends and bandwagons is good. Cultivating our own paths, learning to ignore outside pressures and actively choose to not be conformed, that is all so good and juicy. “The Joy of Missing Out” has been on my mind all month long. Ironically, I don’t feel like I have missed out on anything that matters. It’s a pretty nifty little paradox.

One of the television programs that made a big impact on us last year was The Kindness Diaries, and my husband especially has taken up the chance to connect with the show’s host and author, Leon Logothetis, via social media. As a result, he has received two books in the mail and is excited to read them. One is a memoir of the making of the show’s first season. The other is called, Live, Love, Explore. After my guy studied The Book of Joy with me, helped host that amazing discussion dinner, and then propagated that material to his friends and employees, I am so happy deep in my bones for this next experience.

Farm Census to Start the Year:

We still have two fat, sassy horses, Chanta and Dusty. Both male, both cut, both extremely affectionate and smart, but neither trained. No, before you ask, sadly I guess, we do not ride them. But we do love them so very much.

We have one slightly famous llama, Meh, who is approaching five years old. He was born here at the Lazy W to registered and beloved parents Romulus and Seraphine. Meh is one of those animals who is more than the sum of his fuzzy parts. We just plain love him to the moon and back. Meh was recently immortalized by local artist Emily Williams, and as long as I am lucky enough, the artwork is hanging in our living room. Pretty sure Handsome will scoop it up and take it to his office before long.

The Lazy W has two South African geese, one gander named Johnny Cash (we always say his full name) and one mostly blind, barely walking, still elegant and beautiful female named Mama Goose. We are amazed she is still with us after so many years, so much extreme weather, and so many predator encounters. We love her. We love them both.

Along with the geese we currently have nine chickens. Two of them are mature roosters, and the other seven are gorgeous little hens, all hatched here at the W. My “pet” is called Red Shoulder Chicken, so name because in good weather she has a penchant for hopping all the way up to my shoulder to perch. She rather demands (and therefore receives) lush and colorful kitchen treats before settling for pedestrian chicken scratch.

Lately we have been getting two large, heavy fresh eggs every day or so. Our hens are young. It will naturally increase as weather improves and the hens mature, but I also want to increase our laying flock this year. The trouble is that we want to keep them safe in the penned yard (hash-tag hawks and owls), but space is limited. We want them to be super happy and have room to play. We shall see.

Three barn cats grace us with their presence and for food and cuddles, and each of them has a distinct personality. Klaus loves them like the small, vulnerable siblings they are. He roughs them up violently and with great zeal. I taught him this.

Fast Woman still appears when the stars align, and I recently dreamed that she was shrinky-dink size but three times as loud as normal.

Also, of course, you know Klaus, and if you have been reading here very long you know Pacino, our adolescent macaw. We have some possible life-improving plans for Pacino his year. Stay tuned.

Have you ever taken a meditation class? Handsome and I and a few of our friends are flirting with the idea of attending some being offered near the farm, and a Buddhist Monastery. I am pretty excited. Reading, studying, thinking, journaling, and staying in contemplation are all easy for me. Quieting my mind, not so much. But I crave “spaciousness” and ease, and this could be a pathway to that. Plus, one of our happy intentions for 2019 is to explore other faiths. Love it. I will keep you posted.

Ok, I am so glad you stuck around for some thoughts and reintroductions to the farm. Again, thank you for reading. Thanks so much for giving me a chance to share some of the things I find to be truly amazing in this life.

More than ever, I feel the cascade of Grace and Joy, and I am eager to write it all down. Happiest of the New Year to you, friends. I hope you can take hold of this wave of good energy and make it your own. See you again soon.

“We are all gardeners,
planting seeds of intention
and watering them with attention
in every moment
of every day.”
~Cristen Rodgers
XOXOXOXO

friday 5 at the farm: busy, happy, thankful week

October 19, 2018

Last weekend was a long one for us, four days of much needed deep refreshment, and this work week that wraps up today has been solid. It was solid, happy, productive, and good in many ways. Last week’s extended recharge has been put to good use. Here are some headlines from the Lazy W!

001 Dad’s Birthday!

My Dear Ol’ Dad turned 61 this week, and last night we all gathered at home for his requested dinner of, “ribeyes and hot fudge sundaes.” Yum! I took exactly zero photos because we were having so much fun and my hands were always full. My sister Angela and I shopped and cooked dinner, then seven of us (all adults this time, which is rare) sat around the dining room table talking about DNA testing, conspiracy theories, some wild family history, and more. Everything. We feasted on food and love and excellent conversation. Jessica drove over, too, and we all had such a great time. Laugh upon laugh upon laugh! Happiest of birthdays, Dad, we love you so much!

002 Batmobile Progress

This morning, between meetings and court and who knows what else at the Commish, Handsome stole some time at a very cool Oklahoma City business to help blow the “bubbles” that will crown the Batmobile. And he invited me last minute to watch! So I dropped everything at the farm and drove to town. I haven’t told you much about this project yet, but I will soon.

Short version: It’s a fun and labor-intensive old-car restoration that will play a big role in our community outreach hopes and dreams. And it becomes more fun and exciting every week. When I say “bubbles” and “Batmobile” in the same sentence, do you picture exactly what I’m talking about? Cool.

003 Halloween Vibes

Thanks to an attic full of Halloween decorations and some pumpkin fun with friends last Saturday night, our house is festooned with all the seasonal details. We love it. And we are living our best hide-pounce-scream-recover life, too, especially after dark. So fun. Even the gardens are in on the spooky mood, and I take every opportunity to walk around the farm in galoshes and sweaters.

004 Aprons & Organization

Domestically, I have been working steadily to empty drawers and closets, purge, reorder, clean, and hold space everywhere I can find a bit of congestion. I crave space physically and emotionally. It feels amazing, like the best precursor to nesting. It’s that deep-breathing, roll-your-shoulders kind of private survey I like to do just as the seasons really trade. It feels great, and every day I find new things to do around here.

This afternoon my plate was clear enough to sew two fun apron designs that have been swimming in my head. (This one is for a very special local podcaster!)

005 Fat, Fuzzy Horses

In keeping with the season change, our farm-ily is fattened up and beginning to retain a certain amount of fluff and fuzz. It’s definitely time. The horses are eating all the hay I offer them (so much), and the chickens are feasting on more than the usual amount of herbs, rose hips, and grass clippings, plus all the average fare. Fingers crossed that they soon decided to lay some eggs.

Okay, that’s our little sum up from the week. Approximately one million other things happened, too, because life is full and beautiful. If our internet cooperates, I’ll have a post up sometime Saturday about what I’ve been reading, watching, and listening to. Good stuff.

Happy weekend!

Redeem the Time
Even the Weird Days & Moments
XOXOXOXO

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