Wow

We have arrived!

108 days after arriving in Uruguay, we are in a place of our own.

We’re still saying “Wow”.

What’s to love:

-          12 acres of rabbits, capybaras, carpinchos, mice and an incredible assortment of birds to select from.

-          The buffet is always open. Female Handler (FH) complains about the killing fields outside the back door, but really I’m just showing off my innate hunting abilities. I’ll slow down eventually because I’ll get bored, but for the time being I’m putting the weight back on that I lost during the 5,300 mile (8,530km) journey south. Here's a picture of me just tuckered out after pulling an all-night'er hunting.

-       While we have both a fireplace and a wood stove, it is the wood stove that we have used to date. When it is in fine operating form, it is Wow moment. The fireplace is predominately my indoor perch.

-     The languid whispering of the wind between storms.

What’s to deal with:

-          The unexpected rain storms. Sure I can run to the barn and wait it out, but I’d much rather get the towel rubdown if I show up at the back door.

-          The presence of foxes. I found a decaying carcass of one down the hill that alerted me to the fact that they are around.

-          The occasional, monotonous THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP of a powerful bass drum that is like a pile driver to the chest.  It’s a wonder that my lungs haven’t collapsed yet.  This thumping, it turns out, comes from the Swiss neighbor next door who owns a 36-hectare spread of olives, citrus and kiwi. He owns a grandissimo set of speakers!  And it is from these that he blasts looping tracks of unearthly electronic music.  Female Handler had the pleasure of introducing herself to him yesterday and walked away with a jar of olives and a bottle of olive oil. He engaged her in a conversation about the joys of farming, but she failed to catch most of what he said owing to the strange, opiate music—anchored by that incessant THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP--coming from directly behind her.

-          MH trying to deal with a wood stove that doesn’t always draft well and his propensity to curse and slam iron doors shut with a force that makes me rather want to deal with the fox outside.

But on a good note, I will leave you signs of spring, as it is bursting here at the farm and quite amazing!

Mo's Spot

 One of the bee colonies with the sun rise in the background

 The almond trees are in full blossom

No docs needed

The handlers were visiting with Suzanna and Hector in their warm kitchen the last Sunday night before the move. The warmth came from the wood burning stove where there was a vat of food cooking for Rambo, their dog. The food consisted of huge chucks of bone, beef and rice. Very nice!

They mentioned that the agricultural census was going to begin on Monday, and they were worried as they did not have paperwork on their cow, Negra. Paperwork? Come again? Apparently cows and horses, and any large scale farm operations, need documentation. Further, if you are producing anything on the farm for sale, you need to show documentation of that.  And with documentation comes the government ability to tax. Wow. Do chickens require documentation (as we sure would like chickens at the farm)? Hector said that if you have fewer than 30 chickens, he didn’t think documentation was necessary, but if you are selling the chicken meat or eggs, then most definitely. If the eggs are for personal consumption, no docs needed.

I didn’t think much of it…until, from my perch on top of Female Handler’s (FH) desk, I saw an army truck with a canvas top barreling down our little lane. I mean, they were screaming down the lane as if they had a war to get to at the end of it. Apparently I missed that news broadcast.

FH ran to the back window to see what on earth was happening farther down the lane which ended at Gabriela’s farm (I decided to take refuge under the covers of the bed). A couple of guys wearing fatigues got out. Fortunately none seem to be totting guns, but instead clip boards. Ahhhhhh, the census! I could only presume that they were noting how many horses resided at Teresita’s Chacra Perico. After much note taking, and clapping of hands to get the horses attention (and awake any who might be sleeping on the ground down the hill), they left just as quickly as they had arrived. They did not knock on our door or wish to talk to us. What does this mean? It means that they are really focused on only the large animal population and not the human population? And cats don’t count.

Later in the week when we had moved onto our farm, the army truck showed up there. FH met them prior to rounding the corner where they would have seen 1000 almond trees in lines going down the hill behind the house. She was asked if she had ever participated in the agricultural census before and she explained that she was new to the country, and no, she had not. They asked her if she had income from anything being produced on the farm. She replied simply, “no”. They asked if she had any animals, and she replied two cats. He explained that no docs were needed for cats. She asked him when she might expect them to return, and he replied in ten years.

The next day…another army truck showed up, this time with more Army solders getting out.

Oh my.

Again FH ran outside to stop them from having a look-see around the farm. Seems that this census-taking group didn’t know that the other truck had been there the day before. Once FH explained that she had already filled out the pencil written form, they were off again.

The following day…we were spared a third visit.

So one wonders how many repeat counts they actually record? I suppose it could happen if family members didn’t actually tell one another they dealt with the census truck that day. According to the "census", there are at least 4 times more sheep and cattle then there are humans in Uruguay.

A little peak on the inside of Teresita's house

Now that we're about to leave Teresita's rancho, I'd like to show a little peak of her very quaint place surrounded by pastures...

  

 

Which house?

I'm taking some time from exploring outside to come in and let my paws dry off from the frosty grass. Cold and wet is not fun. It's a good time to check out the "House" file of pictures on the Handlers' computer. I honestly don't know which one it is...but I thought I'd share the types of houses that they have been looking at during their search.

A Good Week

The Handlers are overjoyed that I finally figured out how to go back outside to do my “stuff”. While I realize that I did that for over 8 years before, without any encouragement, this southern move and the availability of a box just made it easier to go in the bathroom where it was located. But with the passing of Mo, they’ve been ridiculously stubborn about this, and now I can’t find the box.

Keika actually was the one who showed me the possibilities. I was used to the soft moist soil under the vinca at our old house that was easy to dig into. Here….it’s grass of varying lengths depending on when the last time Negra (the cow) was there. Digging a hole isn’t really a possibility, so we sort of do a marginal effort to cover our “stuff” with dried grass, bark, whatever is within pawing distance. Sometimes I just don’t even bother…I mean, “what the hey” as our old neighbor used to say…

While female handler (FH) has been researching cat food recipes from veterinarians consisting of fresh chicken, beef and rabbits, I took matters into my own hands and just caught myself one…

A rabbit that is…

Let me just say, they are freaking huge here! The size of medium size dog. Enough to feed a family of 7 for a week. I will remind everyone that I am a Maine Coon, so hunting is in my bloodline. But I am on the smaller end of the growth chart so the likelihood of  ever capturing an adult hare rabbit is not high. The younger ones are definitely in the realm of possibilities.

I’ll just post one picture because we might have a sensitive viewing audience. 

I'll also mention that eyeballs and intestines of any animal I bring home are not my favorite. I have always deposited these pieces aside on the door mat. Sometimes I might accidently put them on FH’s outdoor sandals (she really should look at what she puts her feet into before she just does it).

Finally, the other news to share is that we’re moving again. This time it is to that house the handlers bought back in June! They are timing it for early Thursday morning such that Keika and I have some time to explore around the house and perhaps venture outside by the afternoon (to do our stuff) before the sun sets around 6:30pm. This is quite exciting. I feel pretty good about this. When I see them finally unpack their suitcases (which they have not done at all), then I know…we’re staying and I can call this place “home”.

Play Partners?

There's a cow outside the kitchen window and male handler thought I should get off the bed and go play with her. The cow is Negra and belongs to Suzanna and Hector who live next door, and she will be birthing in late September. Hector lets her into our pasture for a change of pace, but it is startling to look out the window...and see a cow dominating the view.

The other view that is more common is of...Negro...their black cat that comes over. Here he is outside the window above the stove.

Is there a theme here on names? Actually this is a term of endearment when you call someone Negro or Negra.

The outcome would be slightly different in the U.S.

Do I smell spring?

Like Mo…when it’s cold outside, I usually hunker down inside near something warm. Sometimes it happens to be a laptop.

Unlike Mo…I try to get out and see the sights. Sometimes the sights happen to be the inside of a roadside drain pipe down at the end of our lane. The road is Route 21, and a major thoroughfare for traffic between Colonia and Carmelo and beyond. I don’t know why I like it so much…perhaps it’s the thrill of being so …close to death, or perhaps it’s because I found a mouse down there once and I’m fairly certain there are more. It provides for a more balanced diet…and 9 out of 10 doctors recommend it.

The “beasts” that Mo worried about are the horses that share the property with us, and even Keika (Mo’s mom) has warmed up to their presence.

(Photo credit: Crestone Witsell)

I tried to be tough around them, but really…I’m a 14-lb feather duster. They saw right through that, and completely ignore me.

Since Friday there has been a hint of warmth in the air. The bees are out sucking nectar out of the dandelion flowers. The lily whites are past their bloom, so does this all mean that spring will come soon?

While the mini-male handler (MMH) was still here (he left last Tuesday…something about wanting to thaw out up north before he had to go back to college), the family used to frequent a roadside carrito for dinners at least twice a week. One of the specialties at El Puma is the hamburgesa completa. Maria Elena and Eduardo would cook up a hamburger that truly rivaled all others. Hamburger is a given, but then you have ham, cheese, egg, lettuce and tomato. Eduardo puts bacon on ours as well. On top of that…your choice of mushrooms, green olives, red bell pepper, spicy green pepper, peas, corn, and a mixture of pickled vegetables. Condiments include mayonnaise, mayonnaise with parsley, ketchup, mustard, and something called picantino…. Oh, and then the hamburger buns.

Yesterday the handlers stopped in for a torta frita, which is really El Puma’s specialty, because it was too early for the bigger deal. 

A torta frita is one of those things that you probably best not eat daily. It’s a plate-sized disc of specially prepared dough that is deep fried until it becomes golden brown and develops blisters as big as a baby's cheek. You can put sugar on top, or any sort of homemade jam bought from the Sunday market. The handlers have tried both honey and dulce de leche on theirs and ….from the sounds, seem to have enjoyed them this way. Eat this with coffee or tea (or mate)…and it’s a perfect way to end an afternoon.

My point for digressing on food….Three reasons:

1. I really like food.
2. Eduardo (at El Puma) mentioned that spring would be heralded by the Santa Rosa winds (an equivalent might be the Santa Ana winds in California). It’s not uncommon for gusts to be 85-90 kph, and I suppose if you’re in a little carrito, there is reason to worry. But I best take note of this fact because I suspect lots of things are flying around during this time, and I personally don’t want to be one of them.
3. When the handlers come in with food from El Puma, it's a fine time to go check out the wrappers in the trash can. There is always a little food grease left behind worth rubbing against.

I’m sure the handlers will continue to frequent El Puma, just not as much since mini is gone. But I suspect the conversations with Maria Elena and Eduardo are as worthy of the outing as the food itself is. For me, it’s the wrappers…