Morning Bray Farm

One of the things we love about New Mexico is the light, especially at sunrise and sunset. Sometimes it just takes our breath away.

This is Dad’s tractor. It’s a 1948 Ferguson TE20 (that stands for Tractor England, 20 horsepower).

He’s really excited about restoring it this summer. They’re known in England as the Little Grey Fergie. When Dad’s done, it will look like this:

Bernard is often called a goober. It’s obvious why.

Bernard, please give your father his gloves back.

Here, try on Dad’s hat.

Dang, I look downright cute, don’t I?

Alright boys.

Mom, Dad and Aunt Linda went to a driving clinic yesterday. Not driving as in cars, but driving as in donkeys, horses and mules.

Mom especially liked this donkey:

And this Belgian draft mule team:

As always, Mom says that  Aunt Linda is donkey whisperer. There wasn’t a single equine that she didn’t stop to converse with.

Perhaps we should change the name to Saturday Parts “and Stuff”.           

What a contrast this week. This was our view:         

Geese flying over the barn at Morning Bray Farm

    And this was the view of our friends and family back east:         

Bird in a Virginia Blizzard; Picture by Horsegirl

 Here’s hoping that some of our weather heads their way soon.

Hello everyone. Justina (Mom) here. The boys have graciously allowed me to hijack their blog on the occasions that it makes more sense for me to tell the story. 

Skunk season got its official start here at Morning Bray Farm Wednesday morning. Whisky was the lucky recipient of his first skunking. The fact that Kassie wasn’t involved is a mystery and a miracle.

What happened just before that is worth telling too. Kike woke me up twice – the first time around 3 a.m. and the second about half an hour later – and was trying to tell me something. I just know it. She was whining and chuffing the way she used to before we had a doggie door to tell me that she needed to go out. The doggie door was open, so I knew that wasn’t it. Was someone hurt? Did Timmy fall into the well? Both times, I got up, walked around the house and checked to make sure that everyone was fine. I never thought that the problem might be outside. Was she really trying to tell me that there was a skunk outside? Good girl!

Fast forward about 45 minutes or so. I’m falling back to sleep and I hear Whisky barking outside. That’s not a good thing at 4:20 a.m. At that time of night, there’s nothing to bark at except for nocturnal animals. Like skunks. Knowing what happened the last time I heard one of the dogs barking in the middle of the night, I immediately jumped out of bed to find Whisky running down the hall past me and into our bedroom. If you haven’t had the pleasure, the toxic smell hits you like a freight train. Why is it that the dogs insist on retreating to the safety of the place that we like to sleep?

And poor Whisky. Naturally we were a little excited and eager to get him OUT of our bedroom and into the garage. Perhaps our voices were a little louder than usual. Thing is, if you talk to Whisky AND you happen to raise your voice at the same time, he freezes. He won’t move. One inch. So we realized we had to dial it back a notch. And with gentle coaxing (while we’re silently screaming inside our heads), we get Whisky into the garage for his skunk treatment.

The first step to addressing a problem is admitting you have one, right? World, we have a skunk problem. Don (Dad) has officially declared war. We set a live trap last night. Have you ever wondered what the experts suggest for skunk bait? From the Havahart website:

Chicken entrails – eww, no.

Cracknels – we’d have to look this up to even know what it is.

Fish, canned (sardines) – don’t generally keep those on hand.

Fresh-insect larvae such as may beetles – fresh out.

Crisp bacon – I’m not cooking for a skunk.

Cat food – No kitties here.

Bread crust coated with peanut butter – Bingo!

Stay tuned…

We’re constantly giving assurance to one another. 

It’s just harder for some of us than others.

Suni is affectionately called our meermutt.

Mom and Dad say that Suni reminds them of a meerkat,

 but she’s actually named after one of the smallest antelope found in East Africa; the suni.

Suni is Kike‘s sister. They are inseparable.

This is Kike. You pronounce her name Kee-Kay. Mom adopted Kike and her sister Suni from the Kenya SPCA in Nairobi, Kenya.

Mom named Kike after a cheetah who starred in the BBC’s Big Cat Diary. Kike is the Swahili word for feminine.

Dad is worried that when he visits the Kenya SPCA with Mom in November, she might want to bring home more dogs or possibly even a donkey or two.

Dad had the door to the tack room open on Saturday. Ellsworth was intrigued.

Attempted communications failed and Ellsworth became frustrated.

This doorknob has the personality of a stapler.

Bernard, stop laughing at me.