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Rustic Russ and I have always taken many precautions to make sure our farm animals are safe.

We have the sled dogs on chains with the best snaps available. (Swedish, Bull, and others…depending on the dog.)

We have them fenced. (We would do so, even if it wasn’t required by AC (Animal Control) Ellen.)

However, there are those times, like early this morning when things go horribly wrong.

Rustic Russ rose quickly and went outside in the dark to see what was causing a ruckus in the dog yard. The frenzy was indicative of a loose dog. However, when he checked the dog yard, all the dogs were on their chains. Hmmm…one chain remained neatly tucked in a dog house, however, there wasn’t a dog attached.

Awatchy must have scratched his neck, and giggled his snap loose. Halfway to freedom, he quickly dug under the fence in a moment to rival Timothy Robbin’s (Andy Dufresne) escape scene in Shawshank Redemption.

Unfortunately, once loose, Awatchy went for the most vocal of the cast of characters at RSA. Mr. Chicken.

Today we lost a member of Russ-Stick Acres. Rustic Russ could not get there in time to save him.

We have other beautiful chickens, such as Victoria, our Silver Laced Wyandotte.

But Mr. Chicken was special and had been a fixture for quite some time now.

Not all dogs have a high prey drive. Scooby is a retired Alaskan and adores the chickens. Even when chained, in her earlier years, she would let the chickens come in her circle and eat from her bowl.

In the spring, his two girlfriends will not have a reason to jump the fence.

He was a hearty bird.

We’ll miss his dueling wake up call with our fenced rooster “DiNozzo”. (DiNozzo was mentored by our rooster, Gibbs, who would chase me from the clothes line, the outhouse, and even attempt to nail me getting in and out of the truck.) Gibbs lived a long, full life before he turned the reins over to DiNozzo.

Mr. Chicken’s hens will miss his guidance. He would alert them to a newly found tidbit, worm, or danger.

We can only hope Mr. Chicken is in a better place…perhaps with Miss Chatters.

Sidebar: For those of you looking for a perfect book on the cycle of life, check out “The Fall of Freddie the Leaf” by Leo Buscaglia. I still can’t read this wonderful book without shedding a tear.

Until tomorrow ~
Blessings to you and yours…
Woodswoman

I, Woodswoman, grew up in Petoskey, MI. My two sons, Charlie, and Mark, also grew up in Petoskey. Beautiful town in which to raise a child. I thought I would never leave the land of the Million Dollar Sunsets over Little Traverse Bay. I thought my children would never leave.

However, we all went our separate ways, to live out our dreams. I, Woodswoman, downsizing to Mancelona to begin my rustic life with Rustic Russ. My sons to California. First Charlie, the filmmaker, then Mark, the golfer. Where better to live out those dreams than California.

Charlie is near the fire dangers ~ circa Anaheim. (18 short miles from the current fire danger, by the way…)

Mark is near the earthquake dangers ~ circa San Francisco.

I, Woodswoman, am in a snowbelt ~ circa Mancelona.

Gulp.

Mark and Rojill (also a Petoskey native) live a stone’s kerplunk from San Francisco, in Richmond.

Mark attended golf school and now works at Richmond Country Club. He can also be found on the PGA Northern California Section tour. Rojill is finishing up her college degree.

Mark was featured on FOX TV earlier this year for a tournament playoff. Rustic Russ and I missed seeing it. (Darn those rabbit ears!) Mark is 24.

A two-year Nike contract helps take the sting out of outfitting yourself.

Golf, golf, and more golf. How does that saying go? Golf is a good walk spoiled.
Not for this Mark. (Quote by Mark Twain…)

One of California’s perks – the Redwood Forests. Ahhh…it was a nice hideaway from the five-lane freeways. My white knuckles had a chance to uncurl and restore blood flow ~ and I wasn’t even driving.

Fisherman’s Wharf…another gem of a find. And nature related.

Wine Country. Mark swung his sporty car into a small country vineyard store, did some taste testing, and sauntered out with a $45 bottle of California wine. I was looking around for Paul Giamatti and the cast of Sideways. Where’s TMZ when you need them?

Oh oh…Just like when they were little, my Brag Book is full.

To be continued…with my oldest son, Charlie, his wife Kristina, and their soon-to-be one year old son, David. My first, very adorable Grandchild.

Yep ~ We are also known as Papa Russ and Nana Sherry. A job we expect to take very seriously in all the years to come.

See you tomorrow ~ coffee in hand!

Woodswooman

For those of you who are new to the Blog, please scroll down for Part One of this story.

Life went on for little Trouper. Days were spent jumping, running and playing.

With all the members of the herd.

It was the summer Rustic Russ and I decided we would let the goat and sheep herd have total freedom. They knew no barriers. (Postscript…that was the first and last summer they had total freedom ~ like any good idea, it had its flaws.)

Belle with lambs, Leader and Lucky. Followed by Ariel and Bunny. Heading over to shake up the horses and tease them about their captivity.

Sadie the Saanen. Such a beautiful girl.

Fluffy the cat would look on while the goats played KING OF THE HILL in the winter barn on Michelle Riley’s back. Fluffy would perch on the ladder, ready to join in at a moment’s notice.

Miss Chatters (looking older than dirt) would also look on, taking a break from chewing hay.

But it was time for Trouper to move on to his new home and leave his farm friends.

Blue-eyed mother and daughter, Suzie and Feona, watched the departure.

Leading up to the day Trouper was scheduled to leave, I kept telling Rustic Russ Miss Chatters would be sorry. She should have been a better mother to him these past two months. I was right.

(Dr. Dale, Mancelona Veterinary Hospital, checking over a beautiful Siberian owned by Mike & Rhonda Walker, in Walker’s highly organzied dog trailer.)

The day finally arrived and I made arrangements to not be at the house when Trouper was picked up, even though I was very happy with the home he was going to. He would become a member of the Ackler family. Dr. Dale & Erin, and children Trevor, Haley, and Seth. The children have always had goats and enjoyed them immensely. They were excited about the addition of Trouper to their small herd. They, too, had been waiting to pick up Trouper and take him home.

The very next day the entire family would be leaving for China to pick up their new adopted daughter and sister, Lydia. They assured me Brittany, an employee from the Mancelona Veterinary Hospital, would spend extra time with Trouper while she watched the farm animals during the Ackler’s trip. I agreed. I knew Brittany from MVH. I knew she would take good care of him.

I also knew I was being unrealistic about this little goat leaving RSA, but I couldn’t help myself. I thought I hid it well, until I got a voice mail the next afternoon from Erin. She stated she had spent a couple hours sitting in the goat pasture with Trouper to make sure he was adjusting. She wanted to reassure me. I couldn’t believe my ears. The entire family was leaving for an extended trip to China, bringing home a new baby, and Erin (who is a beautiful person, inside and out) was appeasing my fears. I knew then, I had to let go.

Miss Chatters also had to let go. She did have a tough time. By the time I got home from work the evening Trouper had left, she was searching for her kid. She would look at me and verbally question his whereabouts. I just shook my head in disbelief, feeling so sorry for her. Why did she wait until now to show affection to this little guy? Where was the affection when he was trying to nurse the first few days? When he asked her for reassurance and received none…

The entire herd felt flat without Trouper – lifeless. He truly was a joy to have around. There was a void by his absense.

He would grow up to be a beautiful boy, 1/2 Angora and 1/2 Nigerian Dwarf. A beautiful boy, inside and out.

Miss Chatters moved on and the grief subsided as quickly as it began. The very next day she went back to her routine.

She had a quiet summer. She had her hair sheared, her hooves trimmed, enjoyed the summer sun, the shade of the trees, and the freedom to move about unrestricted.

However, that summer, we noticed she would go off by herself a lot ~ something a goat usually doesn’t do. Goats are herd bound. We would have Zip gently remind her to get closer to the barn. Being out in a field, in her frail state, would only make the coyotes more daring in their quest for a meal. By early autumn the goats were back in their pen, contained for the winter months.

That fall, early in the morning on the opening day of deer season, Rustic Russ found Miss Chatters on her side, dead. No struggle, it was like she just stopped walking back from getting a drink, laid down and passed away. Rustic Russ said she looked peaceful.

You wonder with animals…what was her last thought?

If I could guess, I bet it would be of the wonderful months she had with her only baby. Trouper. Riding on her back, teetering on his little hooves, hanging on and catching a wave…

Blessings to you all ~

See you tomorrow,
Woodswoman

One of our many joys at Russ-Stick Acres has been our goat herd. Unfortunately for our Blog followers, our beautiful baby Nigerian Dwarf’s were born and raised before my Nikon D80 came into play. In other words, nothing on digital file. Take my word for it, they were beautiful.

Good homes were found for all. Two even went home with Tim Riley’s (click on name) folks, Bobbie & Ralph Riley, to be spoiled and coddled.

But out of all the goats ever to be at RSA, my favorite was an unlikely little guy named Trouper.

And this is his story…

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Rustic Russ surveying the help. Anyone for a ride on the hay elevator?

Rudy, the buck. Rudy educated me in the art of keeping my hand in my pockets during the weekly Wednesday afternoon livestock auction. When he, as a tiny baby, came into the auction ring, my arm shot up with auction number in hand.

SOLD. $12.00. Rustic Russ drove us home later that afternoon, with Rudy on my lap.

Sadie, the Saanen. Saanen’s hold the world’s record for milk production. Sadie came to us as a baby from Konrad and Jennifer. They are very involved in the Wagbo Peace Center in East Jordan, MI. Sadie was born there.

The first couple days at RSA, Sadie wouldn’t leave the side of Rustic Russ. She wailed and wailed if he walked away and she didn’t notice. We finally taught her to join the herd. She was the sweetest goat, so gentle and kind.

Suzie & her daughter Feona, always together. Youngsters, Penny and Sadie, ready for a ride in the trailer. Chewin’ cud on a summer day. No worries.

Sadie, the Saanen. Getting a jump on the new round bale.

Pippi Longstocking enjoying a fresh, fragrant summer day.

Pippi and kids, RJ and Penny, lovin’ on Mom.

Winter Barn chat with RJ, Penny, Miss Chatters and Trouper.

My little Trouper…the most amazing goat we’ve ever had at Russ-Stick Acres. Sure, we’ve had more beautiful goats, like Ana Lucia, but Trouper was dealt a tough hand in life, and he persevered. (Ana Lucia, Sawyer, Locke, and Saiyd were a beautiful set of quads ~ each a different color.) Yep – you LOST fans guessed the name connection.

Rustic Russ and Trouper.
Rustic Russ is the Pied Piper of Russ-Stick Acres.

Trouper and Zip. Buddies at birth.

Michelle Riley (musher extraordinaire) giving Trouper some lovin’ in the winter barn.

Trouper was born to Miss Chatters, an angora goat, fathered by Rudy. Miss Chatters came to us by way of AC (Animal Control) Ellen. Miss Chatters had endured a neglectful past. She would be our only farm animal for a year, living up by our main cabin, before others joined her at RSA.

By the time Trouper was born, Miss Chatters (named for her teeth chattering when AC Ellen found her long fleece frozen to the ice), was to be considered “older than dirt”. She had never caught the eye of Rudy the past few years and we had reasoned she would never conceive.

However, one day, a beautiful little boy emerged and became Miss Chatter’s only baby. She acted more surprised than we were! She was indifferent, and borderline neglectful.

But Trooper loved his mother fiercely. He jumped up and rode on her back often, teetering on his little hooves, trying to “ride the surf” as Miss Chatters ambled around the yard. Later, she would attempt to toss him from the Wave. He held firm.

“Hmmm…I wonder if Zip would toss me…”

He would follow the lead of the other little goat kids and realize he shouldn’t get far from her sight, even though Miss Chatters never looked up to notice his whereabouts. It was sad, watching this little kid hunger for the love of his mother.

However, he was kept busy and didn’t really have time to notice. Michelle Riley made sure of that, every time she visited her musher husband, Tim, who living on our property with his team of Siberian sled dogs while working out of Gaylord, trapping coyote for USDA.

They all loved playing KING OF THE HILL, compliments of Michelle’s sturdy back.

RJ (Rudy Jr.) and Trouper learned how to mimic their father, Rudy, a big tough buck. Rudy would also stand and surf on the backs of the horses while they lay warming themselves in the winter sun. Rudy taught his kids some very neat tricks.

Over time, the kids would get even more creative, jumping from crate to Michelle’s back and flip aound and do it all over again. I don’t know who had more fun, the kids or Michelle.

As farm life dictates, it was getting close to the time for Trouper to leave RSA. He was promised to a wonderful new “forever” home and the day was getting closer.

However, he wasn’t ready, I, Woodswoman, certainly wasn’t ready, and sadly…finally…Miss Chatters wasn’t ready.

However, we didn’t know that until the day Trouper left.

Stay with us for Part 2. Coming next…

Until then, blessings to you and yours ~

Woodswoman

As a salute to all the men out there, on the snowy opening day of deer season, here is a manly topic. A Mill. Created by Rustic Russ this past month.

Big windows, facing south. Hmmm…this would make a great bunk house for visiting cowboys and/or mushers!

We have the “Old Mill”, and now the “New Mill”.

Rustic Russ praises God for many things. I’ve grown accustomed to seeing his Thank You’s scattered about RSA. One day I went to get one of the chickens out of the freezer that he had butchered earlier that week. There were 10 in all. On the last chicken placed in the freezer, Rustic Russ had written in black marker on the freezer paper, “Thank you God”. 1 Chronicles 29:13 “Now, our God, we give you thanks, and praise your glorious name.”

Ready to Rock and Roll. Log roll, that is.

Even our trees have a smile on their face due to this new addition to Russ-Stick Acres.

Also, we hope your opening day of deer season was a success. Even if you only enjoyed the morning sun…

Until tomorrow ~
Woodswoman

Every month I keep track of when to expect the Full Moon. Of course, if I fail to notice the date on the calendar, I am reminded by my environment.

It alters both animal and human. Coyotes howl, sled dogs join in.

Humans howl too. Business managers know what to expect. They schedule more people to work the days leading up to a Full Moon. Bars are full, emergency rooms are full, babies make their debut, our welfare office is full, prisons get rowdy, nursing homes get frisky.

People are just on full tilt. Perhaps it is the pull of the tide ~ the fact our body is made up of approximately 80% water.

Lunar, lunacy…it all goes together.

Wednesday night (the night before the Full Moon) we had a guest at Russ-Stick Acres. Shannon Miller (click on name) arrived late evening with her three sled dogs in tow. We met Shannon in September when she and her oldest daughter, Sophie, attended the Full Moon Fall Fling featuring Lance Mackey and Tim Riley, and camped at our place for the weekend.

Here’s Shannon, at Shaw’s Training Session in Newberry, showing off the dog boxes she constructed for her many trips north from Akron, Ohio.

Here’s her beautiful boy, Jack, (AKA Houdini…).

Here’s Mandy, who happens to be related to Koyuk. (One of my favorite Shaw dogs owned by Joann Fortier.)

And to round out the trilogy, Yeti, a shy one-year old who is just wanting to get on the trail.

As the story goes, Thursday morning (Full Moon), Shannon decided to let the dogs loose back at the Bear’s Den cabin so they could stretch their legs before they got back on the road for a couple hour trip to Paradise in the U.P. (Jim Warren’s Sled Dog Lodge). Stretch their legs, they did.

The trio flew up to the farm, and made a bee line for the Dexters, erupting our dog yard into a frenzy. Dudley the Bull and Dixie (touting horns) got the surprise of their life.

So did Rustic Russ. You see, Rustic Russ has never seen Shannon’s dogs. Did he have a wild pack of canines on his hands? Were they possibly Shannon’s? The thought crossed his mind but he quickly dismissed it. She wouldn’t…would she? Of course he was on his own to mull over these thoughts as I, Woodswoman, had left for work at 7:00 a.m. earlier that morning.

Little D2 (Named after father Dudley and mother Dixie ~ hence D2) had never seen cattle dogs like these. He was used to Zip ~ a purebred Australian Cattle Dog Blue Heeler…

I’ll let Shannon take it from here. Read her Blog dated Friday, November 14th. She says it best.

However, she did leave out the part about Rustic Russ’ pants being covered in mud due to him getting in the cow’s area and successfully grabbing two of the dogs, one by one and extracting them to safety. (Their’s or the cows ~ it’s your call.) Although those horns may have done some damage had Mama thought her baby D2 was being compromised. Yeti, however, lived up to his name and couldn’t be caught.

The Lazy Husky Ranch Blog Spot – A Must Read Daily Blog (Click here for Shannon’s Blog)

I don’t think Rustic Russ has had that much excitement in a good long time.

Until next time Shannon. We look forward to your next exciting visit. Hopefully on a Full Moon again.

See you tomorrow ~
Woodswoman

This past September, Lance Mackey (click on name) visited us at Russ-Stick Acres to meet and greet Michigan mushers and dog sledding enthusiasts during our Full Moon Fall Fling. As some of you know, the months leading up to Lance (and his lovely wife, Tonya) coming to our place, I would remind Rustic Russ about our “to do” list.

As the event got closer, the list got longer. To simplify the daily reminders, I started abbreviating so Rustic Russ wouldn’t feel quite so hen pecked.

On a daily (ok, hourly…) basis Rustic Russ would hear me say BLT, BLT. This meant a job needed to be done “before Lance & Tonya” arrived. This went on for weeks. So much so, it is possible Rustic Russ will never touch a Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato sandwhich again.

Today’s topic isn’t Before Lance Mackey. It is the Bureau of Land Management (click on BLM)
It is about Nauish, our young lad gelding. Our black beauty.

He came to us as a yearling, saved at the auction. The BLM auction. We adopted him. We sport adoption papers from the Department of the Interior.

As with any government program, there were rules. Nauish was kept separate from the other horses when he was a baby. It saddens me to this day. However, perhaps that is why he is such an amazing horse. He could still nuzzle his buddies through the fence, and once he joined them, they were friends forever.

He was born in captivity after his mother was captured from the range. He was given a freeze-branded white tattoo on his neck that identifies all the statistics of his “capture”. Had it not been for our neighbors, Deb & Irv Troyer, he would not have left the auction that day. Thank you Troyers, not only for Nauish, but for all the other Mustangs you have adopted over the past 25+ years.

And thank you AC (Animal Control) Ellen, for the transitional care you provided before Raven (Nauish) came to our farm. He arrived the day he was gelded. We figured if he was going to have a new life, we would give him a new name. He became Nauish that day.

Nauish is smart, incredibly smart. Mustang smart. But even more so, he is gentle. And kind, and playful. But, he is Mustang alert, and Mustang cautious.

But not with everyone. He has a special friend, Claudia Nowak. They connect.

He looks forward to his scheduled training with Staci (Troyer) Short.

OK, even Mustangs get a little bored…yawnnnnn…

Nauish is said to mean “Thank You” in Cheyenne.

We are blessed to have him be a part of our equine family.

Thank YOU Nauish.

See you back here tomorrow…

Woodswoman

Anyone that knows Rustic Russ and myself, knows our aversion to the telephone. OK…ok…my aversion to the telephone.

Although anyone knows that reaching Rustic Russ by phone during the day just simply won’t happen. We are not “plugged in”, as they say.

We, simply, could do quite nicely without one. And we have done that for days, stringing into a week, at a time.

However, telephones are a necessity with family, friends, a business, and 911 ~ should the need arise. So we have a cell phone.

However, when we say we are easier to reach by smoke signal, we’re not exaggerating. Actually, we use smoke signals daily, even hourly, once winter is upon us.

Smoke signals envoke more responses than even a country dinner bell.

Although pretty and purposeful, dinner bells usually signal one thing. FOOD’S ON!

Even the lack of smoke tells you what to expect. Cold, uninviting, shiver, chilly, house dogs curled up into tight little balls, coffee pot empty, frozen pipes…

Wood piles equal sweat, muscle, and eventually, heat. They serve a dual purpose. You get heated obtaining the wood, and you get heated burning the wood.

Smoke, to me, means all is well. Early morning it means people are awake, coffee is ready, the cabin is warm enough to take a shower, and the house dogs are uncurled by the wood stove. It is reassurance that your life is working.

Reassurance of a warm, dry, cozy place, such as my computer perch in the Wee House.

Indeed, life is working.

Until tomorrow…God willing,

Woodswoman

A discussion, a decision, a dream. The Bear’s Den.

Rustic Russ working non-stop on the BD the summer of ‘07, among other projects. Turning a dream into a reality.

Roof top Russ.

Our good friend, Carrie Skinner ~ a Bellaire, Michigan native, visiting from Alaska, checks out the Bear’s Den.

Trailside treasure.

Carrie and Rustic Russ discussing the trail. Carrie will return to Alaska to Husky Homestead, where she lives and works at Goose Lake Kennel ~ home of Jeff King, Iditarod Champion. (We refer to Mr. King as “The Rock Star”…) And yes, we even have a dog named after him.

Veteran’s Day 2008. All ready to see another season of sled dogs tethered outside the front door.

The tour… The porch.

The living quarters…yes, Rustic Russ made the chair.

The kitchen…

The dining room. Yes, Rustic Russ made the table.

Front porch prep table…yes Rustic Russ made the table.

The wood cook stove. (We really got it going in there today.) We were testing it out for our special guest Wednesday night. Ms. Shannon Miller, mother/wife/writer/musher/and traveler of the roads. Shannon will be stopping for the night with her trio of sled dogs, on her way north from Ohio to Jim Warren’s Sled Dog Lodge in Paradise to train for the next couple weeks.

Shannon is the first person to stay in the Bear’s Den since Lance Mackey and his charming wife Tonya, this past September. (Remind me to tell you the story about the moth that took a liking to Tonya’s laptop, which by the way was the only light on in the cabin, since there is no electricity at the Bear’s Den.) OK…ok…here’s the short story. Tonya, on top bunk, with laptop, watching movie, wine in hand, late at night, swatting pesky moth, spilling red wine below, onto Lance, on bottom bunk, Lance bolting upright confused by liquid falling on his head…did I say late at night…wait, it gets better…

To be continued…

Rustic Russ succumbing to the modicum of heat. OK…ok…the book was a plant by me. I thought it was appropriate. Does that man ever take off that hat?

A true beauty in the forest. Made from recycled materials and wood hand milled (with love) by Rustic Russ.

The road to the Bear’s Den. A discussion, a decision, a dream come true.

Stay tuned…

THBTG ~

Woodswoman

It’s official. It appears winter is approaching and will alter our environment from this point forward. How I will miss those summer nights with the spectacular sunsets over the Wee House.

Growing up in Petoskey, I lived with the touted “Million Dollar Sunsets” over Little Traverse Bay. They were beautiful and breathtaking. Although in Petoskey, I had to share. These, are all mine.

Anyone who knows me well, knows how difficult it is for me to go to an office setting every day. I shot this one morning on my way to work driving past the back nine of the local golf course. Ah, the sweet light. I, however, would be entering a world of florescent lights and four walls. Paperwork. Demands. Dreaming of the sweet light.

Summer Sunday trail rides with friends, Pat & Deb, true horse people. Every Sunday, weather permitting. And even not so permitting.

Our bull. Double Dippin’ Dudley the Studley. Or Dudley. He’s a happy boy, in with his young son D2, and D2’s mother, Dixie. It doesn’t get much better than that…

Round pen training for the lad, Nauish, with Miranda Troyer. Raz (and Rustic Russ) on deck to show him how it is done.

I’m happy to announce our rabbits are all reported safe. False alarm on the coyote scare. They do very well in winter. We should have a nice bunch of new bunnies come spring.

Our old gal, Satch. She loves to wander up to the Wee House in the summer afternoons and snooze under the tree. She’s seen a lot of summers. 15.

A speedy blur…of equine beauty and freedom. Especially for Nauish, as his tattoo testifies.

Buck ~ coolin’ off.

Gettin’ up.

The boys heading out to greener pastures.

Our pigs eat, sleep, and grow. They do it well and with little effort.

Wake up call. “Mr. Chicken” is a special guest at our place. He’s our free-ranging rooster. The others are fenced. Every day, two hens fly over the fence to join him for the day. At night, the duo fly back in the coop and leave him to his evening of solitude. He was hatched at our place. He’s part of the family, and he knows it.

Rustic Russ heading out for a ride. Nothing makes him happier than to be on one of his horses. The horses say ditto.

Stay tuned…

To HIM be the Glory ~

Woodswoman