They've almost finished the second haying on the farm, but no one is too pleased with the quality of the silage. There likely won't be a third cutting this year (just like last year) because we are dry, dry, dry in Virginia. The grass underfoot is brown and few flowers are still blooming except the hardy, yet delicate Queen Ann's Lace. Kind of like a strong farm lady, that flower is.
We have been in quite a state over a pack of coyotes that have set up house in the woods along one of the pastures. We've not seen many foxes lately and one of the barn cats didn't come home for dinner last night. With one of the herds about to calve, my landlords called in a hunter and he likely got one of them. That was after one of the bulls saw a coyote and jumped the fence.
Admitedly, I feel rather torn about the whole thing. I read The Daily Coyote and love hearing about Charlie, but I also respect the fact that you can't have coyotes killing calves when raising cattle is your livelihood.
So life goes on the farm.