No more wolf control

Thanks to the federal government's budget wrangling, the federal program that helps farmers and ranchers remove problematic gray wolves (also known as timber wolves) has been cut. (See the full story in the Star Tribune.)

I grew up in gray wolf country and, believe me, it's not like the program was being underutilized. Wolf attacks on livestock and pets are more of a problem now than they've ever been. My dad still has a beef cow-calf operation on my home farm and every year cows and calves are lost to wolves.

I vividly remember one night during our first spring farming up north. I had just finished the late calf feeding (we were milking the cows and feeding the calves three times a day then). It was a black, moonless night; only the yellow glow from the yard light kept the darkness at bay.

I was standing by the calf hutches when the wolves started. First, one wolf calling out. Then, the rest of the pack answering. If you've never heard a pack of wolves communicating, you can't imagine the involuntary tingles that run up your spine after the yips and howls register in your brain.

After the tingles, the fear and the worry set in. I had twenty-some baby heifer calves outside and more cows ready to calve in the pasture. And I was legitimately concerned about their safety. We had a dog on the farm, but that was no longer much consolation. When I was a kid, a farm dog was enough to keep the wolves away; but that wasn't the case anymore. In recent years, we'd had wolves within 100 yards of the barn. The yard light would help, but it was no guarantee.

The federal wolf-control program – the one that was cut – at least gave us some recourse when wolves caused problems. A phone call to Bill, our federal trapper (whose number was written right next to the phone in the kitchen) might not always result in the removal of the culprits, but at least we felt like we were doing something. If we were lucky, the wolves would still be around when Bill came and they'd be removed, like this one.

This wolf, a yearling who Bill said had likely just left his mother, and another yearling wolf were trapped after several attacks on my father's beef herd during the same spring I mentioned above. I don't like posting ugly photos, but I've been saving this photo for an opportunity like this. The photos we normally see of gray wolves, like the one at the top of this post, are of beautiful, healthy animals. In reality, most wolves in the wild have some degree of mange, like this one did, and they don't look nearly as picturesque as most photos depict them.

Nor are they as well-fed as the wolves normally photographed. And, as the wolf population continues to grow, so will the number of hungry wolves. Hungry wolves who can't find anything else to eat prey on farm animals and pets.

Without the federal wolf-control program, there will be no legal recourse for the farmers and ranchers for which wolf depredation is a challenge.

Why we love chocolate milk

I've wrote before about how much our family loves chocolate milk. But with all of the media buzz about removing flavored milk from schools, I think it's worth mentioning again.

We love chocolate milk!

Why?

First, because chocolate milk provides crucial nutrients for active bodies. Our family is active. Our farm requires a lot of physical labor. And when Glen and I are outside working, our kids are outside playing. That means they play a lot! Chocolate milk provides fluids to rehydrate (milk is almost 90% water) and carbohydrates, protein, vitamins and minerals to refuel.

Second, because chocolate milk tastes great! Our kids drink chocolate milk better than "regular milk", as they call it. (Who can blame them?) Since Dan is still a terribly picky eater, and Monika is just entering that stage, sometimes it takes a little coaxing to get nutritious food into them. I make chocolate milk by adding powder to unflavored milk, so I can control the amount of sugar added. It only takes a little chocolate milk powder to turn an untouched glass of milk into a finished glass.

Third, all flavored-milk research has shown that children who choose flavored milk drink more milk overall, have better quality diets, do not have higher intakes of added sugar or fat, and are just as likely to be at a healthy weight compared to kids who do not consume flavored milk.

I certainly hope that chocolate milk will be a choice when Dan and Monika go to school.

For more about why chocolate milk should stay in schools, visit www.raiseyourhand4milk.com.

The Big 3-0

March is almost over. And that means the end of another birthday month. This birthday month was a bit more celebratory than in past years; apparently, hitting the big 3-0 is great reason to celebrate. As I look back at all of the birthday wishes from the month, these are the ones I'd like to remember:

"If 50 is the new 30, then 30 means you just hit double digits!"

(Maybe this is why I don't feel nearly as old as I always imagined 30 to be.)

"It's best to take birthdays with a few grains of salt… preferably around the rim of a margarita glass."

(After chocolate milk and water, margaritas are my next favorite beverage. Our lifestyle — kids and cows — doesn't include many nights out, so the margarita's third place finish is a distant third place. But I did enjoy a couple for my birthday!)

"Some birthdays are more meaningful than others because they remind us of where we've been, what we've learned, and where we've yet to go."

(Enough said.)

"May the next 30 years be the best years of your life."

(I think this one was borrowed from a country music song. But it speaks volumes. There's so much figuring out to do in the first 30 years; I imagine I'll always be trying to figure something out, but I believe it will be a more peaceful figuring.)

Here's to the next 30 years! (I'm raising my glass of chocolate milk!)

March Mud-ness

Right up there with the disaster in Japan, college basketball's March Madness dominates news headlines and air time.

But here in our world, March isn't about basketball madness — it's about mud madness. My birthday falls in mid-March; and, for as long as I can remember, my birthday has always been muddy.

A couple weeks ago, I thought maybe I was going to have a white birthday since there was so much snow cover left. I'll take tromping through snow over trudging through mud any day.

But Mother Nature does not disappoint. The warm winds blew, sunshine prevailed, the snow melted, it rained — and, voilà — mud!

And the mud is everywhere. The cow yard, the heifer lot, our entryway floor, inside Dan's rubber boots (how do kids manage to get mud inside their mud boots, anyway?). His snowpants are twice as bad.

With the mud comes mud puddles. I'll never fully understand the magnetism between children and mud puddles, but that attraction pulls Monika into them without fail.

There's hope, though. The one good thing about having a yard with as much slope as we have is that it tends to drain and dry quickly. The slush/snow that's falling this morning won't help, but I'm inclined to believe that this has to be winter's last dance.

And in a few short weeks, this mud-ness will be but a memory as we bask in the sunshine of spring.

Angels

I'm not sure who taught him about them, but Dan has recently taken an interest in snow angels. I'd never actually seen him make one, until he made this one for the photo, but he talks about them all the time.

Then, the other night in the barn, I was shoveling TMR while Dan played on the other side of the pile. When he disappeared, I peered over the pile to see where he had went.

I found Dan laying in the TMR on the edge of the pile.

"What are you doing?" I asked him.

"I'm making feed angels," he replied.

I chuckled and went back to shoveling.

Last weekend, we finally got around to conquering the disaster area that was our basement. One of the tasks was sorting through the pile of clothes that had accumulated under the laundry chute.

As I sorted lights from darks, Dan pitched in by handing me articles of clothing so I didn't have to bend down. The next thing I knew, he was laying in what was left of the pile.

"What are you doing, Dan?" I asked.

"I'm making clothes angels," he looked up at me and said.

As I finished the laundry, it occurred to me that maybe Dan was onto something.

If we had a snow angel to clear the snow, a feed angel to feed the cows, and a clothes angel to do the laundry, our workload would be a lot lighter. We could actually use a whole fleet of angels, but these three would be a good start.