Rent-A-Ram

It was a beautiful cold morning.

And an exciting one, too, because a plan that had been in the works for over a year was finally happening: we were having a ram come live with us for a while! 

A ram is not something you can just pick up at Walmart. It's more of what I call, "The Grey Economy." You have to call around, and know a person who knows a person. Luckily, though, we already knew a person who had a Jakob's ram who was not too closely related to ours, but the only catch was that he was just a baby. Which explains why this has been in the works for over a year: he had to grow up!

Up is a relative term. He's a very small ram- a runt, really. But I like runts. I read Charlott's Web. This runt's name is Pontiac (after the potato)*.

He's the handsome devil with the four big horns. I don't think he knows what to make of the turkeys! 

The price in the grey economy to rent a ram? Seven pounds organic chicken meat. What a deal.

And in five months, we might have lambs! 

* I didn't know a Pontiac was a potato. I'm taking their word on that.

Ask, and the Internet Provides

I checked Craigslist last night and found some laying hens for sale, already laying, for $2 each, and only eight miles away from home. The guy didn't know what type of hens they were, but

when we got there, we discovered that they were some of our favourites: Transylvanian Naked Necks, Brahmas, and several others. We got seventeen new hens, and one rooster. The rooster was free. Little Z insisted on carrying in each one to her new coop. We'll keep them inside for a few days, until they start thinking of their new place as home, and then we'll let them out.

When we went out there, we got completely lost. The street didn't have a street sign. The numbers on the houses didn't seem to be chronological. The Google Navigator thought the house was in a completely different place than it was. And, the mailbox number was obstructed by a piece of wood. I was shocked by the disorganized nature of the area. This is Wisconsin, land of punctuality, cleanliness, and industrial drinkers. I mean, really!

We also had a funny experience in *Colorado lately, when we were trying to go to Seven Falls, and the Google Navigator led us to the top of Seven Falls. The top is not the place where people are supposed to go. The top is a slippery dirt road on a terrifying cliff face! Not a tourist attraction. The bottom of Seven Falls, however, is a tame little tourist area with an elevator and chipmunks that walk right up to you to be fed.

Google Navigator is fantastic for populated areas, but sometimes bad for the countryside.

* I kind of slipped off to Colorado for a bit last week, with tepid permission from my doctor. I know. I've been keeping secrets from you. I'm sorry.

Gift from the Grey Economy Cult

Our "neighbor" from a mile up the road stopped by and gave me this. It is maple syrup! Pure maple syrup! She made it herself from the Maple trees! Local food is awesome.

The Grey Economy Cult didn't mean to strike back!

I talked with Rolf today. He didn't get the message I left on Friday because his wife deleted a bunch of messages accidentally. He was very nice and very apologetic. He said he would never have planted on our land- he knew the land was sold to us, and he wasn't planning on doing anything on it, but he forgot to mention it to his "Agronomist" (the guy in the truck). (Another possible band name, "The Agronomists".) So, no worries!

"I hope you haven't lost any sleep over this!" said Rolf.
"Oh, I didn't." But I did blog about you...

It takes a lot more than this to make me lose sleep. My nickname is "Mommy E. Newman".

The conversation ended awkwardly. Neither of us knew what to say.

"Okay, thanks! Have a nice Spring!" I said, and quickly hung up.

The Grey Economy Cult Strikes Back!

Yesterday was Good Friday*, so being the ultra-religious guy that he is, BAH took the afternoon off. ("Is this when the Catholics put the tarp over Jesus?" I asked him. "What?" "You know, they cover the cross in church with a tarp for a few days, so you can't see Jesus, right?" "Oh, um... well, I've never heard it called a 'tarp' before.") The three of us loaded into my car to go get milk. A very leisurely errand. Then we saw this guy in a white pick-up just drive right across our land.

"What's that guy doing?"
"What the?"
"He's driving right across our land!"
"He is!"
"I'll go talk to him."

BAH jumped out of the car and started running after the truck driving right across our pristine tall grass prairie nature preserve stuff!!! Not okay!

The guy in the truck got to the corn field and drove around the edge of it in a square, while BAH was still trying to catch up. A disadvantage to owning a lot of land became immediately apparent: you can't catch people randomly driving over it.

Driving over our land is not a shortcut to anywhere. You just have to turn around and go back the way you came. The guy in the pick-up clearly thought he had business being in our corn field.

Meanwhile, in the car, Little Z totally freaked out, screaming, "Daddy Daddy my Daddy gone!!!" So, pretty soon, I was carrying a two year old, running after my husband, who was running after the guy who was driving around our corn field in a white pick-up truck.

Daddy caught up to him first, of course. I'd give a few dollars to hear what my mild-mannered husband actually said to the guy. When I caught up with them, the guy was writing down some phone numbers, and talking about "Rolf".

Ah, Rolf. It is all clear now. Rolf rented out the corn field last year. Apparently, he didn't think to check if it was still okay to plant corn there. (It isn't!) This guy in the pick-up was surveying the land with a GPS for Rolf. There was definitely some miscommunication going on.

"It's a good thing you caught me today, before the seeder came!" said the guy in the pick-up.

I suddenly had this image in my mind of little me, standing in front of a giant seeder, Tienanmen Square style.

Rolf now has a message from me on his answering machine. I hope he calls back before he sends the seeder. We've got to graze sheep in that old corn field. We've gotta live the dream!



* What's so good about it?

The Grey Economy Cult

Lately, I haven't gotten any sub jobs. Actually, it's a good thing, because I've gotten so much done on the farm. Bad-Ass Husband (BAH, recently upgraded from Tender Lovin' Banjo Player for reasons that will not be disclosed) says that I have joined "The Grey Economy". I have no idea what that really means, but I love it. It sounds outlawish. What he means by it, I think, is that I seem to have gone askew of the normal resource venders, and tend to find things from "That guy who lives by the coop" and that sort of thing. I call around. Use the phone book. Talk to people who tell me to talk to other people. Etc.

Today, for instance, I got a three quarter ton load of pea gravel to build a little driveway parking spot, from a place with a little sign asking you to call Tim for help. There was a number. I called Tim, who didn't answer, but then called me back right away and appeared from a nearby farmhouse. He didn't have a working scale, but he dropped what he supposed was three quarter tons into my truck, and tallied up the bill with a calculator, I paid cash and off I went.

Also, today, from going around running my mouth about how I'd like some sheep and goats and such, I located a lady who raises some sheep, and she wrote down my number that she's going to give to a lady who raises goats and might have a kid to spare.

I am also hot on the track of the leader of a conservation society who will probably be able to help us plant a little tall grass prairie in the mud hole that the geothermal dig left. He's on the answering machine. I should really do that right now, actually.

BAH thinks that if I keep this up, we will soon be initiated into the cult. The cult that makes everyone out here so darned happy, that is. Our neighbor up the road, who we share the drive with- every time he drives by, he has this enormous grin on his face. Same with his wife. It's uncanny, really. It could be a cult, but more likely, it's just the air out here.

Incidentally, I realize I am now rambling, but people are so darn friendly out here. We all know each other's business. We just do. I don't believe those stories of criminals hiding out in the country. At least not in Wisconsin. Maybe somewhere else, but you couldn't live out here for long without everyone talking. Just because. The Grey Economy, you know. We're onto you!

"The Grey Economy Cult" - another good band name, no?