Smokey Mountain Breakdown

Well, the fallout from the drought continues in the ag community in a bad way here.

I went into town today to get stock feed and the hideously expensive alfalfa that I’m giving the goats and sheep instead of the much more hideously expensive hay. My stock is hurting…everyone’s is. The guys who unloaded their cows back in June and July were the smart ones. You can barely make the cost of the auction bill to unload sheep and goats at the stock pens. Cattle are going for next to nothing. Basically, anything that eats hay is being unloaded.

I’ve been trying to sell my guys for some months now, to people who want dairy and fiber animals rather than meat animals. But no takers…no one is interested. A few people that I talked to were interested, but never got back. I hate to think about it, but I may just have to put some of them down. Unthinkable, I know, but I can’t have them go hungry.

There’s this funny joke we tell in the summer about zucchini squash. If you’ve ever grown them, then you know that they can take over a garden pretty quickly. They are so productive that you usually end up with way too many zucchini and have to think up inventive ways to get rid of them. Anyway, there’s this thing you say, a joke really, about going around your neighbors houses in the dead of night to see if they’ve left the car doors unlocked. Dump as many zucchini in the backseat as you can and hope you don’t get caught.

My favorite clerk is home from school and working in the coop today when I go in to get my alfalfa. I’m upset because they are out, but they make a few calls and will have some in the morning. This stuff comes from Minnesota or somewhere and is shipped down here year round. We talk about the difficulty with the hay situation and the drought some. And she tells me this amazing true story.

A fellow who gets his horse feed there told her that he had gone to the horse sale a few counties over a week or so ago. He took his trailer with him just in case he bought something. After the auction, he came back to his truck and found three horses tied up in the trailer.

True story.

Like horses for zucchini.

I took this photo some time ago during a happier season for cattle. This little guy was with a bunch of other bottle raised calves in a pasture near my house. They all came running up to the fence to beg for some milk when I got out to take the picture.

The drought has taken a terrible toll on the folks raising cattle. And on the cows themselves. Driving around during this time of year, you usually see large numbers of happy, fat cattle contentedly chewing cud and enjoying a variety of summertime cow activities. They are disappearing from our landscape at an alarming rate.

Cows are pretty cool. I like cows. They aren't the brightest of your barnyard animals and they are messy, messy beasts. When I went up to help a friend decorate the graveyard this spring, the entire herd surrounded my jeep. I'd left my door open and when I came back, my car seat was covered in cow slobber. Bessie had evidently been licking the seat.

It's really sad right now. Hay is going for 35 to 50 dollars for a small round bale. UT's Vet School is about to auction its surplus hay off. It's going to be a madhouse. Some guy already went in and offered 35 dollars a bale for the entire lot. The pastures themselves aren't the usual lush green. Wilson's Livestock Market is backed up with cattle trailers every Saturday and the market has dropped out on beef. The farmers are unloading all their stock. The cows that are left are thinner than usual.

But here's a happy cow during a happier time.

Pray for rain and a good fall cutting. For the cows, people. For the cows.

I had to leave the house today to take the trash to the dump. I haven't been going out much lately and the beans are up and needing some staking. Actually the garden is going to be a bust this year. If you didn't get your garden planted during that early bit right after the hard freeze and the drought that started a week later...nothing is going to grow. My tomato transplants died, but I did go ahead and plant my okra thinking it an African vegetable that will probably do just fine.

The old timers are saying this is the worst drought in 50 years. It's never been this dry in recent memory. The storms arrive every afternoon to shut down the power, phone and satellite, yet no water falls from these clouds that come crashing across the mountains. Just fire. Fire rains down.

My poor little frog pond has almost completely dried up. There is just five inches of green stagnant water there. The geese used to love to go down there every morning to swim, but there is hardly enough water to get them wet.

I stopped the jeep and looked sadly down at my pond. I suppose there will be no bullfrog gigging this fall. A lone copperhead was laying there in the shallows and I thought maybe I should give Jimmy a call or go try to find him up on Naillon's where he is restoring a 19th century graveyard. My friend fussed at me when I said I might try to just put them in a big bucket if I found any. She said they can jump 10 feet. They can't, but I'd just as soon not tangle with one.