Stephen took the kids and our visiting company to Austin this afternoon, leaving me to enjoy a rare period of solitude. It was lovely... I read, I napped, I ate ice cream. :-)
Then I went out to do chores. The logistics of the chores this afternoon, for varying reasons, were so complicated, that I actually sat down and wrote out a plan before I started. Here's what ended up happening:
1) filled water bowl currently being shared by goats, dogs and chickens; fed laying hens
2) finished cleaning outside brooder from last batch of chicks so that the batch in our laundry room can finally move outside
3) pulled rubber glove out of goat's mouth
4) noticed red calf on lawn; looked for hole in fence; couldn't find one
5) put dogs in the house because they were scaring the red calf instead of helping me
6) got wheelbarrow (with chicken manure in it from cleaning brooder), took it through sheep pen, and into horse/cow pasture
7) herded cows away
8) put horses in corrals (so they wouldn't eat cattle feed)
9) climbed fence to sheep pen then back to lawn; put goats in trailer (so they wouldn't push into the workshop and eat out of the bins)
10) got cattle cubes (grain) and alfalfa from workshop (saw rat, mental note to tell Stephen)
11) gave goats in trailer alfalfa
12) enticed cattle up to where I wanted them with cubes, threw the grain over fence, saved some to lure red calf to gate, failed because she wanted to be with the other cattle, even if they were separated by a fence (because I was alone I couldn't herd AND open a gate, so I had to really finagle this)
13) got more cubes, tried at a different location, ALMOST got her in, but failed again.
14) got more cubes, tried putting the cubes on the other side of the sheep pen and herding the red calf into the sheep pen (had to open that gate, so now the sheep were on the lawn). Failed.
15) second attempt to get her into the sheep pen... I scared her so badly she revealed the hole in the fence (hooray!). She was through and back with her mom, and I quickly twisted the wire in a lame attempt at a makeshift fix (no time for anything else, to which the gorgeous sunset attested)
16) raced through sheep pen, closing gate so that the black calf wouldn't go out, climbed into horse pasture
17) dumped manure out of wheelbarrow
18) fed horses (I am moving like lightning now because the cattle are going to be done with that grain soon and they are loose in the same area as the horse corrals, and are soon to come begging for grain from the now open barn)
19) threw half a bale of hay into the wheelbarrow, along with the barn broom
20) closed up barn and got through the gate to the sheep pen just as cows started coming around the corner
21) pushed the wheelbarrow through the sheep pen to the yard
22) went back to the workshop, got a bucket of goat grain and a bucket of sheep grain
23) lured the sheep back to their pen, closed them in
24) set up feeders for the goats on the outside of the trailer, filled them and let the goats out.
25) got into the trailer with the barn broom, and cleaned out all the old hay
26) put fresh hay in trailer from the wheelbarrow
27) ran to house, made up 2 quarts of calf milk replacer in huge bottle
28) grabbed flashlight on the way out the door (sun is very set now)
29) went into the sheep pen, and lured black calf with bottle
30) she started sucking and I led her to the gate, then out onto the lawn and to the entrance to the trailer (her current night time shelter)
31) big challenge: she couldn't, or was afraid to, get up into the trailer. I am 5 1/2 months pregnant. I can't lift her. So I finagled it by lying the bottle down on the trailer floor and getting one leg at a time up and in, slowly sliding the bottle back into the trailer. The last leg was the hardest, but we did it.
32) closed trailer door, and went to the end of the trailer so I could brace the bottle against the wall (she is really rough, and I want to protect my own baby)
33) she finished, and really wanted more, but there was none, so she tried to nurse on various parts of me; no time for calf massage tonight (although I did some while she nursed)
34) out of the trailer, back through sheep pen, climbed over gate to horse corrals, bringing broom
35) let horses out
36) climbed back over and turned on water in sheep pen
37) back to yard; fished hose through fence and cleaned out the black calf's water bucket, slid it into the trailer and filled it up through the side of the trailer. I am happy that she has clean hay and fresh water tonight
38) turned off water in sheep pen; moon is full
39) went to shop to turn off light and close up; had to quickly dump some grain on the ground to distract the goats from racing in with me
40) with flashlight walked to check on 90+ broilers (meat chickens) in our newly made portable hoop-coop; all is well.
41) got mail
42) let dogs out and took last look for today's eggs
43) flashlight died, exchanged it for a working one when I put eggs in house
44) moved two roosting chickens off the back porch and into the chicken house; closed it up for the night
45) fed the dogs
46) checked on baby chicks in laundry room
47) washed my hands and ate the last chocolate chip cookie. :-) I think I earned that one.
I believe I climbed over the wooden fence from the sheep pen to the horse pasture at least four times. If you had told me when I was 20 that I when I was 36 years old I'd be pregnant, homeschooling my kids, managing horses, cattle, donkeys, goats, sheep, dogs, chickens, and climbing five foot fences, I probably would have laughed in your face.
What a long, strange (but magical) trip it's been!
Monday, March 13, 2006
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Calf developments
This morning we awoke to The Princess crying from a nightmare. While Stephen was rocking her, the weather alert went off with a tornado warning for our county.
Things were still outside, no rain or wind even, so I just went back to sleep. At 5:30 we awoke to pouring rain and gusting winds. The calf! She was still in the round pen with no shelter.
Stephen and I got dressed, pulled on our boots and headed out. We were concerned about the Mama, who has been easing up a bit in her vigilance, but who is still worried about her baby. From the safety of the horse corral I shone the light all around. We could see the horses and donkey, but no cows (although it was pretty difficult to tell for sure since it was pitch black and raining... mostly we gauged by the height of the eyes shining back at us).
Stephen entered the round pen and ran the calf until he cornered her, while I shone the flashlight from the safety of a horse corral. He picked her up, I raced out of the corral and opened the round pen gate, and we stumbled through the mud and rain praying fervently that the mother wasn't about to kill us (where to shine the flashlight? Into the night to find a cow? On the ground to keep from falling?). We made it to the sheep pen, while the dogs brought way to much attention to us (and made us furious) by barking wildly. We made it through the last gate and let the calf go.
After we caught our breath (even a 1 week old calf is pretty heavy; my excuse was purely adrenaline related), Stephen caught her again, and put her into the cattle trailer so she could have a roof (we don't yet have a good place to hold her that is water tight). After checking to make sure the broilers weren't drowning in their coop, Stephen went back and dried the calf off with some towels.
After the sun came up, he took the kids to feed her for their first time. She is finally in a place that I feel is safe for them to approach her (they don't have to go through the mother). She did great! Farmer Boy did much of the feeding, and Stephen wants him to take on this responsibility now (don't tell: I'm a little jealous).
Later in the morning, I was standing in the kitchen cutting fruit, and I heard the mama cow mooing for her baby. I looked up, and through the window could see her standing forlornly at the now empty round pen. At the time we had a Henry Purcell CD on (our composer of the term), and there was the saddest song playing. Between my pregnancy hormones, the music, and the plaintive mooing of this mama whose baby was now not only out of reach, but out of sight, it was hard to keep my own tears in check. The sad music continued as she finally turned away and walked to the other side of the field to rejoin her "sister" cows.
This afternoon the calf was acting weird and listless, and Farmer Boy and I were worried. Stephen wasn't, though, and sure enough, she was fine in the evening. Guess she was just tired (although part of me wondered if she wasn't a bit depresssed as a result of being separated from her mother... maybe anthropomorphising here a bit). We had visitors from MI arrive with their two young boys, so they got to watch the evening feeding, done mostly by Farmer Boy.
The calf is unbelievably soft and silky, and really seems to thrive with a lot of physical affection. This makes sense... her mama licked her a lot. She is one week and 3 days old today. We're going to have to find a better place for her soon; the trailer really isn't a nice place to live.
Things were still outside, no rain or wind even, so I just went back to sleep. At 5:30 we awoke to pouring rain and gusting winds. The calf! She was still in the round pen with no shelter.
Stephen and I got dressed, pulled on our boots and headed out. We were concerned about the Mama, who has been easing up a bit in her vigilance, but who is still worried about her baby. From the safety of the horse corral I shone the light all around. We could see the horses and donkey, but no cows (although it was pretty difficult to tell for sure since it was pitch black and raining... mostly we gauged by the height of the eyes shining back at us).
Stephen entered the round pen and ran the calf until he cornered her, while I shone the flashlight from the safety of a horse corral. He picked her up, I raced out of the corral and opened the round pen gate, and we stumbled through the mud and rain praying fervently that the mother wasn't about to kill us (where to shine the flashlight? Into the night to find a cow? On the ground to keep from falling?). We made it to the sheep pen, while the dogs brought way to much attention to us (and made us furious) by barking wildly. We made it through the last gate and let the calf go.
After we caught our breath (even a 1 week old calf is pretty heavy; my excuse was purely adrenaline related), Stephen caught her again, and put her into the cattle trailer so she could have a roof (we don't yet have a good place to hold her that is water tight). After checking to make sure the broilers weren't drowning in their coop, Stephen went back and dried the calf off with some towels.
After the sun came up, he took the kids to feed her for their first time. She is finally in a place that I feel is safe for them to approach her (they don't have to go through the mother). She did great! Farmer Boy did much of the feeding, and Stephen wants him to take on this responsibility now (don't tell: I'm a little jealous).
Later in the morning, I was standing in the kitchen cutting fruit, and I heard the mama cow mooing for her baby. I looked up, and through the window could see her standing forlornly at the now empty round pen. At the time we had a Henry Purcell CD on (our composer of the term), and there was the saddest song playing. Between my pregnancy hormones, the music, and the plaintive mooing of this mama whose baby was now not only out of reach, but out of sight, it was hard to keep my own tears in check. The sad music continued as she finally turned away and walked to the other side of the field to rejoin her "sister" cows.
This afternoon the calf was acting weird and listless, and Farmer Boy and I were worried. Stephen wasn't, though, and sure enough, she was fine in the evening. Guess she was just tired (although part of me wondered if she wasn't a bit depresssed as a result of being separated from her mother... maybe anthropomorphising here a bit). We had visitors from MI arrive with their two young boys, so they got to watch the evening feeding, done mostly by Farmer Boy.
The calf is unbelievably soft and silky, and really seems to thrive with a lot of physical affection. This makes sense... her mama licked her a lot. She is one week and 3 days old today. We're going to have to find a better place for her soon; the trailer really isn't a nice place to live.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Adventures in cattle raising
Last week our final cow gave birth to a calf... the first from our new bull! Here they are (at a distance, hence the blurriness) on the baby's first day:
Can you see how full the mother's udder is? Well, it stayed like that, and got worse. As much as we watched, we never saw the calf nursing. Instead she would suck on the mother's dewlap (chest/neck skin flap). The only other place we ever actually saw her sucking was the fold of skin beside the cow's thigh. After a few days we were concerned, but she was still alive and still able to walk around normally, so we figured she must be getting something.
However, as the days wore on, she seemed skinnier and weaker and we began to really worry, and finally, this morning, Stephen managed to separate out the calf from the rest of the herd, into the round pen.
Once again, we are dealing with far less than ideal facilities. The round pen is a) too big a pen for a calf, b) has no roof or shade, c) right in the middle of the field where the calf's mother is. The mother was NOT AMUSED. General wisdom is that it is usually more dangerous to get between a mother cow and her calf than to deal with a bull.
Stephen went out and bought calf milk replacer and BIG baby bottle. He had a rough time of it with her the first time. It took 20 minutes for her to even figure out what to do. The night feeding went a little better, only taking her about 5 minutes to figure it out. Here he is, succesfully feeding his girl:
Mama is having a rough time; she wants her baby! She hovers around the pen, and stays even when the other cows leave. Getting in and out of the pen is scary because in her distress (especially after she's watched the baby being tackled and fed) she wants to charge anything, just to get her frustration out. The dogs have taken the brunt of the chasing.
Can you see how full the mother's udder is? Well, it stayed like that, and got worse. As much as we watched, we never saw the calf nursing. Instead she would suck on the mother's dewlap (chest/neck skin flap). The only other place we ever actually saw her sucking was the fold of skin beside the cow's thigh. After a few days we were concerned, but she was still alive and still able to walk around normally, so we figured she must be getting something.
However, as the days wore on, she seemed skinnier and weaker and we began to really worry, and finally, this morning, Stephen managed to separate out the calf from the rest of the herd, into the round pen.
Once again, we are dealing with far less than ideal facilities. The round pen is a) too big a pen for a calf, b) has no roof or shade, c) right in the middle of the field where the calf's mother is. The mother was NOT AMUSED. General wisdom is that it is usually more dangerous to get between a mother cow and her calf than to deal with a bull.
Stephen went out and bought calf milk replacer and BIG baby bottle. He had a rough time of it with her the first time. It took 20 minutes for her to even figure out what to do. The night feeding went a little better, only taking her about 5 minutes to figure it out. Here he is, succesfully feeding his girl:
Mama is having a rough time; she wants her baby! She hovers around the pen, and stays even when the other cows leave. Getting in and out of the pen is scary because in her distress (especially after she's watched the baby being tackled and fed) she wants to charge anything, just to get her frustration out. The dogs have taken the brunt of the chasing.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Visitors
Last week we enjoyed a wonderful visit from our friends from Virginia; in the midst of which was not-so-welcome visit from the cows on the front lawn!
Remember way back at the beginning of our adventure here, when I had to find that place inside myself to be all that I could be and jump into the fire of farm life? You know, the time when all the cows were on the lawn and the fence was broken and I was the only adult in town? Well, they did it again.
Things are tough if you're an herbivore in Texas right now. We had almost no rain this fall, so there is almost nothing growing. Because of that, the demand for hay has been so intense that the prices have skyrocketed, and now, most of our suppliers are completely out. They long ago sold their own hay, and have been bringing it in from other areas, but even that supply has dwindled. So everyone is hungry.
We had one uneaten round bale left, and it was in the field next to our house. I thought the cattle still had a bale up on the hill, but I was wrong. There I was, squatting on the floor in front of my health books trying to figure out if I should worry that my son's temperature was 104.5 for the second day, when our friend Ben, who had been sitting in the front yard writing, popped his head in to say "Patti, there's a cow in the yard." Sure enough. {{sigh}}
Did I mention we moved the driveway and no longer have a gate between the road and the yard?
I went in the house to find the tractor key and call Stephen to ask him a question and discovered the phone was dead. By the time I got back out, there were 4 cows in the yard. To my chagrin, they had broken through the area I had "fixed" a year and a half ago.
I got the hay loaded onto the tractor, and drove it into the goat pen. The cows started to follow but then realized there was hay aplenty left on the ground where the bale had been. So after parking the tractor, I walked back, bringing the dogs, and after two passes, we managed to get two of the cows to go back through the spot they had broken, and two into the goat pen. I'm so glad Ben was there to help me with the gates! Since Farmer Boy was stuck in bed with that fever, The Princess would have been my only assistant, and while she is a great farm girl, she is only 4, and it's a lot to ask when there's a 1500 pound animal bearing down on you.
Anyway, we moved the hay over to the cow pasture and the two cows in the goat pen followed. Ben got to drive the tractor back, and his daughter even had a little ride. Then we had to fix the fence. Thankfully, I know a LOT more about fencing now than I did 18 months ago, so we were actually able to fix it in a way that should hold. The whole thing is going to be replaced in the not-so-distant future, thankfully.
So the cows were returned to their rightful place. Later Ben fixed the phone line (have I mentioned how THANKFUL I was to have him here?). Farmer Boy ended up running a fever for five days; the entire time our friends were here, poor thing.
We had other misadventures... horses trying to eat old disgusting hay from the chicken coop, goats and sheep in an infinite loop in the shop (I'd get one out and another would come in), a major temper tantrum and meltdown by yours truly in said shop (at least the only ones who heard were the goats and sheep). Pretty much the usual ups and downs of farm life around here.
I was totally spoiled by Ben's wife, Esther, who kept the kitchen gorgeous the whole time they were here (no mean feat, as I am not a tidy cook). Because the boy was sick, things weren't really normal (whatever that means), but he was able to do some school a few of the days, and The Princess especially enjoyed having another little girl around with whom to play and share her school activities.
All in all it was a great week, not just despite, but maybe even because of the unexpected.
Remember way back at the beginning of our adventure here, when I had to find that place inside myself to be all that I could be and jump into the fire of farm life? You know, the time when all the cows were on the lawn and the fence was broken and I was the only adult in town? Well, they did it again.
Things are tough if you're an herbivore in Texas right now. We had almost no rain this fall, so there is almost nothing growing. Because of that, the demand for hay has been so intense that the prices have skyrocketed, and now, most of our suppliers are completely out. They long ago sold their own hay, and have been bringing it in from other areas, but even that supply has dwindled. So everyone is hungry.
We had one uneaten round bale left, and it was in the field next to our house. I thought the cattle still had a bale up on the hill, but I was wrong. There I was, squatting on the floor in front of my health books trying to figure out if I should worry that my son's temperature was 104.5 for the second day, when our friend Ben, who had been sitting in the front yard writing, popped his head in to say "Patti, there's a cow in the yard." Sure enough. {{sigh}}
Did I mention we moved the driveway and no longer have a gate between the road and the yard?
I went in the house to find the tractor key and call Stephen to ask him a question and discovered the phone was dead. By the time I got back out, there were 4 cows in the yard. To my chagrin, they had broken through the area I had "fixed" a year and a half ago.
I got the hay loaded onto the tractor, and drove it into the goat pen. The cows started to follow but then realized there was hay aplenty left on the ground where the bale had been. So after parking the tractor, I walked back, bringing the dogs, and after two passes, we managed to get two of the cows to go back through the spot they had broken, and two into the goat pen. I'm so glad Ben was there to help me with the gates! Since Farmer Boy was stuck in bed with that fever, The Princess would have been my only assistant, and while she is a great farm girl, she is only 4, and it's a lot to ask when there's a 1500 pound animal bearing down on you.
Anyway, we moved the hay over to the cow pasture and the two cows in the goat pen followed. Ben got to drive the tractor back, and his daughter even had a little ride. Then we had to fix the fence. Thankfully, I know a LOT more about fencing now than I did 18 months ago, so we were actually able to fix it in a way that should hold. The whole thing is going to be replaced in the not-so-distant future, thankfully.
So the cows were returned to their rightful place. Later Ben fixed the phone line (have I mentioned how THANKFUL I was to have him here?). Farmer Boy ended up running a fever for five days; the entire time our friends were here, poor thing.
We had other misadventures... horses trying to eat old disgusting hay from the chicken coop, goats and sheep in an infinite loop in the shop (I'd get one out and another would come in), a major temper tantrum and meltdown by yours truly in said shop (at least the only ones who heard were the goats and sheep). Pretty much the usual ups and downs of farm life around here.
I was totally spoiled by Ben's wife, Esther, who kept the kitchen gorgeous the whole time they were here (no mean feat, as I am not a tidy cook). Because the boy was sick, things weren't really normal (whatever that means), but he was able to do some school a few of the days, and The Princess especially enjoyed having another little girl around with whom to play and share her school activities.
All in all it was a great week, not just despite, but maybe even because of the unexpected.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Cat Chicken?
Can a chicken have nine lives like a cat? We have an Aracauna who seems to.
This girl came with 10 other chicks, who we tried to get a broody mama to adopt. For one reason or another, only four of those chicks made it past the first few days, and only three were around at a week. Those three were carefully cared for by their adoptive mother.
They lived separately from the other chickens, down at the barn with the goats. Eventually Mama Hen decided she was done and left them to fend for themselves. They did well, roosting way up in the rafters of the loafing shed at night. But our terrible coyote problem this fall caused great chicken attrition, and the aracaunas were not exempt. One of the three disappeared and the other two decided to move their digs up to the chicken house with the rest of the girls.
They were not exactly welcomed with open wings. This is normal. Every new chicken who comes on the farm has to deal with the pecking order, and mostly the new girls learn (over and over) that they are at the bottom of it. But at least they had each other.
Then they didn't. We have to assume that yet another was a coyote breakfast, because suddenly we had only one. She is so different looking from the others that we'd check for her to make sure she was still with us. Plus we were really looking forward to those cool green eggs.
Then she disappeared. We assumed she was yet another tasty treat for the resident wildlife.
One day, Stephen and Farmer Boy were cleaning out the utility trailer to load it up for a dump run. Among the items in the trailer was an old mailbox. Inside the mailbox was the Aracauna. How she got stuck in there, we will never know. She was in rough shape. Very dirty, very weak. We didn't know if she'd make it. Not only did she have some recovering to do, but as soon as you're sick, you are the very lowest of the low on the pecking order, and chickens have been known to peck a sick bird to death. Talk about survival of the fittest!
But she recovered. She got stronger, she cleaned herself up, and pretty soon it was back to normal for Miss A.
A week ago, Farmer Boy suddenly raced past me in the house saying urgently, "I need to save a chicken". He had looked out the window and seen a chicken caught in the fence. I went out to help him. The poor bird had gotten her foot stuck on some barbed wire, and was actually hanging upside down attached by her foot. Her right eye had been pecked out by her barbaric companions. And it was, you guessed it, our poor lone Aracauna.
I was tempted to kill her then and there. I just didn't know how she could survive, and I hated seeing her like this. But when I looked in her good eye, it was clear and alert. So we put her in seclusion. She kept getting out. We kept putting her back in. She got out. We gave up. She wanted to be out, and by golly she was going to be out!
The increased handling she has had due to all her traumas has really tamed her, and she lets us pet her now. Yesterday, she was settling in for the night on the front porch (she still doesn't like sleeping with those meanies in the hen house), and I walked up to give her a little love and encouragement. She looked at me with her bright healthy eye. I peeked around to see how the scab was healing on her missing eye... and she looked at me with her OTHER bright healthy eye! I couldn't believe it! Our little miracle bird.
The children have named her Oreo. Lucky girl is here to stay... only animals we aren't planning to eat get names.
This girl came with 10 other chicks, who we tried to get a broody mama to adopt. For one reason or another, only four of those chicks made it past the first few days, and only three were around at a week. Those three were carefully cared for by their adoptive mother.
They lived separately from the other chickens, down at the barn with the goats. Eventually Mama Hen decided she was done and left them to fend for themselves. They did well, roosting way up in the rafters of the loafing shed at night. But our terrible coyote problem this fall caused great chicken attrition, and the aracaunas were not exempt. One of the three disappeared and the other two decided to move their digs up to the chicken house with the rest of the girls.
They were not exactly welcomed with open wings. This is normal. Every new chicken who comes on the farm has to deal with the pecking order, and mostly the new girls learn (over and over) that they are at the bottom of it. But at least they had each other.
Then they didn't. We have to assume that yet another was a coyote breakfast, because suddenly we had only one. She is so different looking from the others that we'd check for her to make sure she was still with us. Plus we were really looking forward to those cool green eggs.
Then she disappeared. We assumed she was yet another tasty treat for the resident wildlife.
One day, Stephen and Farmer Boy were cleaning out the utility trailer to load it up for a dump run. Among the items in the trailer was an old mailbox. Inside the mailbox was the Aracauna. How she got stuck in there, we will never know. She was in rough shape. Very dirty, very weak. We didn't know if she'd make it. Not only did she have some recovering to do, but as soon as you're sick, you are the very lowest of the low on the pecking order, and chickens have been known to peck a sick bird to death. Talk about survival of the fittest!
But she recovered. She got stronger, she cleaned herself up, and pretty soon it was back to normal for Miss A.
A week ago, Farmer Boy suddenly raced past me in the house saying urgently, "I need to save a chicken". He had looked out the window and seen a chicken caught in the fence. I went out to help him. The poor bird had gotten her foot stuck on some barbed wire, and was actually hanging upside down attached by her foot. Her right eye had been pecked out by her barbaric companions. And it was, you guessed it, our poor lone Aracauna.
I was tempted to kill her then and there. I just didn't know how she could survive, and I hated seeing her like this. But when I looked in her good eye, it was clear and alert. So we put her in seclusion. She kept getting out. We kept putting her back in. She got out. We gave up. She wanted to be out, and by golly she was going to be out!
The increased handling she has had due to all her traumas has really tamed her, and she lets us pet her now. Yesterday, she was settling in for the night on the front porch (she still doesn't like sleeping with those meanies in the hen house), and I walked up to give her a little love and encouragement. She looked at me with her bright healthy eye. I peeked around to see how the scab was healing on her missing eye... and she looked at me with her OTHER bright healthy eye! I couldn't believe it! Our little miracle bird.
The children have named her Oreo. Lucky girl is here to stay... only animals we aren't planning to eat get names.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
A December to remember
As we headed into December this year, our family eagerly anticipated the traditions of Advent and, in our home school, a special month of study revolving around the Christmas story. We pulled out the Advent wreath, a new Advent story/devotional, and Sunday November 27 we welcomed Advent 2005.
Our first week of our Christmas Unit Study started out wonderfully. We had a special Advent circle time, Farmer Boy (grade 3) started a Christmas Study Journal, and both children enjoyed making angel crafts using outlines of their hands and feet. I felt like a Good Mother.
Imagine my (bleary-eyed) surprise, then, to awaken on December 1st, after just a few restless hours of sleep on a chair-bed, in my husband's hospital room. The afternoon before, a bad bout of "gas" after a lentil soup lunch had proven to be more than even my stout-hearted husband could handle, and despite much protestation, we took him to the ER. A good thing, as he had an incarcerated hernia... a potentially life-threatening situation (and definitely not caused by lentil soup). Poor Stephen endured hours of tests, uncomfortable poking and prodding, and the horrors of a naso-gastric tube that evening.
First thing on Dec. 1 he had surgery to repair the hernia. My brother and a friend helped by caring for the children so that I could be with Stephen in the hospital. We brought him home the night of Dec. 2.
The next few days were rather anxiety filled for me. It is amazing how fast patients are pushed out of hospitals these days. I am all for getting out of the hospital, but it is rather a bit of pressure on the healthy spouse to send someone home who isn't breathing properly and takes 5 minutes to bend enough to get into a car.
It soon came to light that Stephen is one of the extremely rare people who has a reaction to steri-strips. The blisters that the steri-strips caused ended up being more problematic than the incision. When all was said and done he had a rather quick recovery, thankfully, and now we are the Bionic Couple (he has a mesh tummy and I have a titanium marker in my right breast from a breast biopsy).
I have found a silver lining to the Great Hernia Adventure. During Stephen's receovery period, when he couldn't drive, I learned how to drive the tractor and move bales of hay. This was MUCH fun!! I was nervous at first, but once I understood which buttons and levers did what, I had a blast. :-)
Stephen took a week off work, then things began to get back to normal. Farmer Boy was in the local Christmas parade with his Scout troop. Both children were in the Christmas play at our church Christmas party. And despite the hospital detour, we managed to quickly find our place again in our Christmas study, and finished out the school year just where I'd hoped.
As we headed into the days before Christmas, while I was more tired than usual, I felt that things seemed to be falling into place (except for the mess in the house which continued to plague me).
On the Thursday before Christmas, before heading into the city to do some errands, Stephen tried to remove the broiler element from our stove, which was malfunctioning. After some difficulty, he succeeded, immediately produced a blinding flash, a puff of white smoke, and little balls of molten metal bouncing on the wood floor. Miraculously, he wasn't hurt! Then ensued two days of unsuccessful searching for the part (even "finding" it, only to discover that the company changed the design but not the part number!). By Friday night (the 23rd) it was becoming clear we were not going to be cooking Christmas dinner in our kitchen.
Saturday morning (the 24th), at around 8:30am, we phoned my parents, who had already gone to Austin to visit with my brother. We all agreed to move the festivities to his house. The children had gotten over their disappointment at not being home and had begun to get excited about a sleepover at Uncle Dave's. I started packing up food and recipes, gifts and clothes. We decided that I would start the dough for our annual Christmas breakfast braid, it would rise in the car, be baked at Dave's house and be done in time for us to go to the church my mom had found in the phone book.
We were almost packed, and I had just finished the dough and started the rise. It was 15 minutes before we were to leave. The phone rang: "Don't leave yet, Dave's throwing up." Within a half hour it was clear my brother was really sick. Plan B switched to Plan C. My parents, not wanting to get sick, decided to leave, but just in case they were exposed enough, they didn't want to get US sick. Everyone was going to spend Christmas at their own houses. Round 2 of unhappy children.
The dough for the braid ended up being the chickens' special breakfast, and we humans ate store bought muffins on Christmas morning.
We all decided we would reschedule our celebration to Tuesday the 27th. Christmas night, the Princess woke up throwing up, and spent the next two hours back and forth from bed to bathroom. The next day she and I both felt terrible, and my brother's wife was sick. We rescheduled yet again. Plan D: Friday the 30th. Round 3 of unhappy children.
Wednesday, Farmer Boy had a very short bout of throwing up, but was better within a few hours. We were on track for Friday; we were hopeful! Wednesday night the Princess spiked a 102.6 fever. Aaaaarggh!
In the middle of all this, I was very worried about getting sick, becasue I am pregnant. Lots of vitamin C, water, and prayer seemed to help, because I did not throw up (danger of dehydration) nor did I run a temp (can be dangerous for the baby), despite being in constant contact with a very sick little girl. I did have two days of feeling really weird, but never with dangerous symptoms.
All day Thursday the girl ran a low grade fever. She really wanted to go her grandparents' and they decided they could live with a temp of less than 100. So Thursday night we set off. Miraculously, by the time we got there her fever was gone! She was fine on Friday (although that was one of MY low days) and we finally had our many times delayed big family gathering. It was very nice, and much more relaxing for me than it would have been at my house, thanks to the love and sacrifice of my wonderful parents. On Saturday, my dad even took care of the kids while Mom and I went to a movie!! It wasn't as relaxing for Stephen, who only stayed one day and night because of our animals. But the children and I were there for three days and three nights.
The year ended quietly for us. Stephen was home, and I was at my parents'. We were all tired, so did not do anything special. But for me it was lovely... a clean house, a quiet room, time to read. These are great joys for me, so 2006 rang in in peace, and with a loving phone call with my sweet husband at midnight.
I am looking forward to another year of adventures!
Our first week of our Christmas Unit Study started out wonderfully. We had a special Advent circle time, Farmer Boy (grade 3) started a Christmas Study Journal, and both children enjoyed making angel crafts using outlines of their hands and feet. I felt like a Good Mother.
Imagine my (bleary-eyed) surprise, then, to awaken on December 1st, after just a few restless hours of sleep on a chair-bed, in my husband's hospital room. The afternoon before, a bad bout of "gas" after a lentil soup lunch had proven to be more than even my stout-hearted husband could handle, and despite much protestation, we took him to the ER. A good thing, as he had an incarcerated hernia... a potentially life-threatening situation (and definitely not caused by lentil soup). Poor Stephen endured hours of tests, uncomfortable poking and prodding, and the horrors of a naso-gastric tube that evening.
First thing on Dec. 1 he had surgery to repair the hernia. My brother and a friend helped by caring for the children so that I could be with Stephen in the hospital. We brought him home the night of Dec. 2.
The next few days were rather anxiety filled for me. It is amazing how fast patients are pushed out of hospitals these days. I am all for getting out of the hospital, but it is rather a bit of pressure on the healthy spouse to send someone home who isn't breathing properly and takes 5 minutes to bend enough to get into a car.
It soon came to light that Stephen is one of the extremely rare people who has a reaction to steri-strips. The blisters that the steri-strips caused ended up being more problematic than the incision. When all was said and done he had a rather quick recovery, thankfully, and now we are the Bionic Couple (he has a mesh tummy and I have a titanium marker in my right breast from a breast biopsy).
I have found a silver lining to the Great Hernia Adventure. During Stephen's receovery period, when he couldn't drive, I learned how to drive the tractor and move bales of hay. This was MUCH fun!! I was nervous at first, but once I understood which buttons and levers did what, I had a blast. :-)
Stephen took a week off work, then things began to get back to normal. Farmer Boy was in the local Christmas parade with his Scout troop. Both children were in the Christmas play at our church Christmas party. And despite the hospital detour, we managed to quickly find our place again in our Christmas study, and finished out the school year just where I'd hoped.
As we headed into the days before Christmas, while I was more tired than usual, I felt that things seemed to be falling into place (except for the mess in the house which continued to plague me).
On the Thursday before Christmas, before heading into the city to do some errands, Stephen tried to remove the broiler element from our stove, which was malfunctioning. After some difficulty, he succeeded, immediately produced a blinding flash, a puff of white smoke, and little balls of molten metal bouncing on the wood floor. Miraculously, he wasn't hurt! Then ensued two days of unsuccessful searching for the part (even "finding" it, only to discover that the company changed the design but not the part number!). By Friday night (the 23rd) it was becoming clear we were not going to be cooking Christmas dinner in our kitchen.
Saturday morning (the 24th), at around 8:30am, we phoned my parents, who had already gone to Austin to visit with my brother. We all agreed to move the festivities to his house. The children had gotten over their disappointment at not being home and had begun to get excited about a sleepover at Uncle Dave's. I started packing up food and recipes, gifts and clothes. We decided that I would start the dough for our annual Christmas breakfast braid, it would rise in the car, be baked at Dave's house and be done in time for us to go to the church my mom had found in the phone book.
We were almost packed, and I had just finished the dough and started the rise. It was 15 minutes before we were to leave. The phone rang: "Don't leave yet, Dave's throwing up." Within a half hour it was clear my brother was really sick. Plan B switched to Plan C. My parents, not wanting to get sick, decided to leave, but just in case they were exposed enough, they didn't want to get US sick. Everyone was going to spend Christmas at their own houses. Round 2 of unhappy children.
The dough for the braid ended up being the chickens' special breakfast, and we humans ate store bought muffins on Christmas morning.
We all decided we would reschedule our celebration to Tuesday the 27th. Christmas night, the Princess woke up throwing up, and spent the next two hours back and forth from bed to bathroom. The next day she and I both felt terrible, and my brother's wife was sick. We rescheduled yet again. Plan D: Friday the 30th. Round 3 of unhappy children.
Wednesday, Farmer Boy had a very short bout of throwing up, but was better within a few hours. We were on track for Friday; we were hopeful! Wednesday night the Princess spiked a 102.6 fever. Aaaaarggh!
In the middle of all this, I was very worried about getting sick, becasue I am pregnant. Lots of vitamin C, water, and prayer seemed to help, because I did not throw up (danger of dehydration) nor did I run a temp (can be dangerous for the baby), despite being in constant contact with a very sick little girl. I did have two days of feeling really weird, but never with dangerous symptoms.
All day Thursday the girl ran a low grade fever. She really wanted to go her grandparents' and they decided they could live with a temp of less than 100. So Thursday night we set off. Miraculously, by the time we got there her fever was gone! She was fine on Friday (although that was one of MY low days) and we finally had our many times delayed big family gathering. It was very nice, and much more relaxing for me than it would have been at my house, thanks to the love and sacrifice of my wonderful parents. On Saturday, my dad even took care of the kids while Mom and I went to a movie!! It wasn't as relaxing for Stephen, who only stayed one day and night because of our animals. But the children and I were there for three days and three nights.
The year ended quietly for us. Stephen was home, and I was at my parents'. We were all tired, so did not do anything special. But for me it was lovely... a clean house, a quiet room, time to read. These are great joys for me, so 2006 rang in in peace, and with a loving phone call with my sweet husband at midnight.
I am looking forward to another year of adventures!
Sunday, November 20, 2005
Babies!!!
So, now we have five calves (here are three of them):
And a few weeks ago these two mama hens hatched out five chicks:
But the biggest news of all is that at the end of June, there will be another little person around here who might look like this:
We're all excited that I'm pregnant!
And yes, we have been teased about living on "Fertile Farm".
And a few weeks ago these two mama hens hatched out five chicks:
But the biggest news of all is that at the end of June, there will be another little person around here who might look like this:
We're all excited that I'm pregnant!
And yes, we have been teased about living on "Fertile Farm".
Monday, October 17, 2005
A vacation destination!
Look! We're becoming a vacation destination!
A hypothetical, apocolyptic, science fiction vacation that is. ;-)
Ben is a dear friend from my university days at Brown. He's morphed from a brilliant tender-hearted long-haired computer programming theologizing kid, to a brilliant tender-hearted short-haired computer programming theologizing husband, father, and internationally known science fiction writer.
Ben, our friend Ila, and I were housemates in 1990/91 while we were students at Brown. Our house was a happy place to be, filled with the yummy smells of creative vegetarian cooking. We decorated with fourth-hand furniture, books and papers galore, a goofy black lab puppy named Lucy, and chore charts in which we rotated turns at being characters from the TV show Twin Peaks. You can see that Ben's experience creating alternate universes began early.
Ben has awed me by his decision to return to writing. He has been very dedicated and intentional about it: he prioritizes writing and regularly makes time for it in his schedule. After all, the guy has a full time programming job and a busy family with two young children. Yet he finds time to write well enough to be published all over the place and earn nominations for the Hugo and Nebula awards.
Of course, if he is helping build a stockade on our farm (see the "vacation" itinerary referenced in the above interview), heavens only knows in what state we might end up. Will we find ourselves "falling straight into the beam of the strange pulsar Yoruba-7, into its great burst, not only of electromagnetic radiation, but also of chronons, the quantum particles of time" like the peaceful folk of Ylla's Choice? Or will he succumb to a mixture of my Christian mysticism and Stephen's pragmatic environmentalism and join us in praying over the zombies as we stand on a wall of recycled aluminum cans?
Either way I know we'll all laugh a lot.
A hypothetical, apocolyptic, science fiction vacation that is. ;-)
Ben is a dear friend from my university days at Brown. He's morphed from a brilliant tender-hearted long-haired computer programming theologizing kid, to a brilliant tender-hearted short-haired computer programming theologizing husband, father, and internationally known science fiction writer.
Ben, our friend Ila, and I were housemates in 1990/91 while we were students at Brown. Our house was a happy place to be, filled with the yummy smells of creative vegetarian cooking. We decorated with fourth-hand furniture, books and papers galore, a goofy black lab puppy named Lucy, and chore charts in which we rotated turns at being characters from the TV show Twin Peaks. You can see that Ben's experience creating alternate universes began early.
Ben has awed me by his decision to return to writing. He has been very dedicated and intentional about it: he prioritizes writing and regularly makes time for it in his schedule. After all, the guy has a full time programming job and a busy family with two young children. Yet he finds time to write well enough to be published all over the place and earn nominations for the Hugo and Nebula awards.
Of course, if he is helping build a stockade on our farm (see the "vacation" itinerary referenced in the above interview), heavens only knows in what state we might end up. Will we find ourselves "falling straight into the beam of the strange pulsar Yoruba-7, into its great burst, not only of electromagnetic radiation, but also of chronons, the quantum particles of time" like the peaceful folk of Ylla's Choice? Or will he succumb to a mixture of my Christian mysticism and Stephen's pragmatic environmentalism and join us in praying over the zombies as we stand on a wall of recycled aluminum cans?
Either way I know we'll all laugh a lot.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Carla Emery
An icon of the modern homesteading movement died last night.
Carla Emery Delong was a passionate advocate of sustainability and self-sufficency. Her "Encyclopedia of Country Living" had 9 editions, many of which were put together by hand by Carla in the early days.
Her book was the first homesteading book I owned. This summer I drove an hour and a half to hear her talk, and worked up the courage at the end to ask her to sign that book. I'm so glad I drove, so glad I asked.
Carla Emery's legacy would be difficult to quantify... but I know it is rich and wide. She has influenced countless adults over several generations. Adults who have tried to put her ideas into practice and pass them on to their children. Each person who has made changes to live more gently due to her words, has contributed to her gift to the community of humans on this earth.
Rest in peace, Carla.
Carla Emery Delong was a passionate advocate of sustainability and self-sufficency. Her "Encyclopedia of Country Living" had 9 editions, many of which were put together by hand by Carla in the early days.
Her book was the first homesteading book I owned. This summer I drove an hour and a half to hear her talk, and worked up the courage at the end to ask her to sign that book. I'm so glad I drove, so glad I asked.
Carla Emery's legacy would be difficult to quantify... but I know it is rich and wide. She has influenced countless adults over several generations. Adults who have tried to put her ideas into practice and pass them on to their children. Each person who has made changes to live more gently due to her words, has contributed to her gift to the community of humans on this earth.
Rest in peace, Carla.
Friday, October 07, 2005
Cool Breezes
Our record high this year was 108 degrees Fahrenheit. That was on September 25. It's about all the effect we got from Hurricane Rita, besides mild wind, gas and grocery shortages, and tens of thousands of evacuees.
This morning we woke up to 57 degrees. We had gone to sleep with the windows open, so I padded around at 6:30am closing them and pulling more blankets on the kids. It felt GREAT! I had on shorts and a thin long sleeve shirt. Stephen put on his usual t-shirt and shorts.
Then the Texans woke up. Born and raised Texans, our kids are the offspring of Yankees. We're people who swam in 57 degree water in the Atlantic. Sure it was cold, but that was the point, right? Cooling off!
This morning the Texans (our kids) put on pants and long sleeved shirts. Then jackets. Then knit hats (one put on a ski mask). Then mittens. I checked the indoor thermometer. It was 66.
We giggled at them, and I recalled one early summer in Rhode Island, when I was about 10. My brother and I desperately wanted to play with our new slip-and-slide. We begged my mom, who, after much pestering, finally agreed that we could play with it when the temperature hit 70. So we stood around in our bathing suits, peering at the thermometer and hoping for it to inch up just a bit.
All depends on your perspective, eh?
This morning we woke up to 57 degrees. We had gone to sleep with the windows open, so I padded around at 6:30am closing them and pulling more blankets on the kids. It felt GREAT! I had on shorts and a thin long sleeve shirt. Stephen put on his usual t-shirt and shorts.
Then the Texans woke up. Born and raised Texans, our kids are the offspring of Yankees. We're people who swam in 57 degree water in the Atlantic. Sure it was cold, but that was the point, right? Cooling off!
This morning the Texans (our kids) put on pants and long sleeved shirts. Then jackets. Then knit hats (one put on a ski mask). Then mittens. I checked the indoor thermometer. It was 66.
We giggled at them, and I recalled one early summer in Rhode Island, when I was about 10. My brother and I desperately wanted to play with our new slip-and-slide. We begged my mom, who, after much pestering, finally agreed that we could play with it when the temperature hit 70. So we stood around in our bathing suits, peering at the thermometer and hoping for it to inch up just a bit.
All depends on your perspective, eh?
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Poem by Farmer Boy (age 8)
God is With You
Do not worry, do not fear,
God is with you right here.
If you worry if you fear,
say this poem through the year.
God is here, God is there,
God is with you everywhere.
Do not worry, do not fear,
God is with you right here.
If you worry if you fear,
say this poem through the year.
God is here, God is there,
God is with you everywhere.
Friday, August 19, 2005
First calf of 2005
Look what I discovered this evening as I fed the goats!!!
Here he is with his Mama:
He is very young, a day or less I'd guess. Still a little wobbly. He is soooooo cute!
We're a bit (!) behind the rest of the cow breeding world, to whom common sense has dictated that the best month to birth calves in Texas is NOT August, often the hottest and driest month of the year. Our scientific method of breeding our girls consists of letting them live with a bull, and, uh, well, that's it. This clever method does afford happy little surprises, like the cutie above. It is also extremely easy (at least for the humans).
And there are definitely more on the way! There were some heavily laden and hungry girls out there tonight. Mooooo!
Here he is with his Mama:
He is very young, a day or less I'd guess. Still a little wobbly. He is soooooo cute!
We're a bit (!) behind the rest of the cow breeding world, to whom common sense has dictated that the best month to birth calves in Texas is NOT August, often the hottest and driest month of the year. Our scientific method of breeding our girls consists of letting them live with a bull, and, uh, well, that's it. This clever method does afford happy little surprises, like the cutie above. It is also extremely easy (at least for the humans).
And there are definitely more on the way! There were some heavily laden and hungry girls out there tonight. Mooooo!
A Real Life
Back at the beginning of the summer, a childhood friend of mine read the blog for the first time. We now live 2000 miles away from each other, so she e-mailed me and asked me what I meant in my blog subtitle by "a real life". This spurred a good month of really thinking about the question.
Unfortunately, I think I offended her. I never meant the title to imply that someone not living on a farm is not living a real life! I still think that "learning to live a real life" captures very much what we are trying to do here. But let me say to all of you... we each are on our own journey home and living it as fully as possible is living a real life, in my opinion. That long walk will be as different for each of us as we are from one another.
Here's what it means to me:
I want to be more connected with the people in my life. I want to fully enjoy the beauty of creation. I want to know where my food comes from and I want it to taste delicious. I want to take risks and I want to make mistakes. I want to experience getting hurt then healing, and finding greater strength for it.
I don't want to watch life on TV, I want to be there. I want it to happen to me, and I want to be scared and overjoyed. I don't want to take things for granted. I want to touch my bread before it is baked. I want to really know my kids. I want to struggle with my husband over little things and big things, and learn how to sacrifice for him, and ask for forgiveness, and grow in humility. And throw my arms around him because he is my husband and I love him.
I don't want to be in an emotional place where at the end of the day I feel I have to turn on the TV or a movie to escape from my life. I want to dig in and live it, right through the conflicts, the cactus thorns in my hand, the sunsets, the kisses, the accidents, the downy baby chicks, the stinky chicken litter, the goats getting out, the wasps in the house, the warm snuggles from a 3 year old in the middle of the night.
I want to be here. Right now.
That's my idea of a real life.
I don't think you have to live on a farm to take that in and try it. Be there. Listen to those people you love with all of yourself. Make something from scratch. Pick flowers for no reason. Bring a little beauty into someone else's life by giving them the gift of YOU. Stop being so scared.
It's all about the love, baby...
Unfortunately, I think I offended her. I never meant the title to imply that someone not living on a farm is not living a real life! I still think that "learning to live a real life" captures very much what we are trying to do here. But let me say to all of you... we each are on our own journey home and living it as fully as possible is living a real life, in my opinion. That long walk will be as different for each of us as we are from one another.
Here's what it means to me:
I want to be more connected with the people in my life. I want to fully enjoy the beauty of creation. I want to know where my food comes from and I want it to taste delicious. I want to take risks and I want to make mistakes. I want to experience getting hurt then healing, and finding greater strength for it.
I don't want to watch life on TV, I want to be there. I want it to happen to me, and I want to be scared and overjoyed. I don't want to take things for granted. I want to touch my bread before it is baked. I want to really know my kids. I want to struggle with my husband over little things and big things, and learn how to sacrifice for him, and ask for forgiveness, and grow in humility. And throw my arms around him because he is my husband and I love him.
I don't want to be in an emotional place where at the end of the day I feel I have to turn on the TV or a movie to escape from my life. I want to dig in and live it, right through the conflicts, the cactus thorns in my hand, the sunsets, the kisses, the accidents, the downy baby chicks, the stinky chicken litter, the goats getting out, the wasps in the house, the warm snuggles from a 3 year old in the middle of the night.
I want to be here. Right now.
That's my idea of a real life.
I don't think you have to live on a farm to take that in and try it. Be there. Listen to those people you love with all of yourself. Make something from scratch. Pick flowers for no reason. Bring a little beauty into someone else's life by giving them the gift of YOU. Stop being so scared.
It's all about the love, baby...
Full Summer
Missed the entire month of July, and I'm coming close to missing August, so it's time to post!
My absence from the blog was mostly due to my absence from the computer. The summer has been a busy one of house guests (including an extended visit from the Horse Whisperer, our niece from New York), and trying to get organized. We have put some new systems in place that seem to be working, and while I doubt I will ever feel like I am actually on top of things (there's ALWAYS something more to be done), I no longer feel like everything is completely out of control!
New animals to the farm include Joe, a 2 year old palomino apaloosa:
The HW has been working with him, hoping to train him and resell him as a started horse. He is showing promise as a cutting horse. He is fast and can turn quickly.
We also got 50 broiler chicks in early June:
Who now are 25 big fat chickens:
The other 25 are dead, most of them by our hands last Saturday (murderers!). We're getting better at the whole slaughtering process, better in the sense of faster and more efficient. Slaughter remains the least pleasant of all the farm duties. I confess I still have not done the actual killing myself, although I am in charge of the other end. I am now the resident evisceration queen. Yuck.
Three of the horses who have been part of our farm life, who were also horses with whom the HW has been working, were sold last Saturday. Hank, Chester and Cherokee left us, we pray to happy homes.
Hank:
Chester:
Cherokee:
Saturday was an emotional day... horses moving away, chickens dying.
As for the humans, by far the most complex and high maintenance animals on the farm, we are all well. The HW is here with us from mid-May to early Sept, so her stay is coming to a close. Today we took her to Cavender's Boot City, but she was unable to find boots or a hat for suitable Texan souvenirs.
Farmer Boy has spent most of his summer shirtless and muddy. A fine summer for an 8 year old! His best friend, who now lives in PA, visited for 12 days this summer, along with his parents and 4 siblings. It was a wonderful reunion for all of us, lots of laughter and kids and food.
The Princess is settling into her role and has rejected from her wardrobe all items of clothing that are not pink, purple, red or yellow. She finds she must change outfits at least twice a day in order to insure that she is suitably clean, and that the social requirements of the moment are met. She mostly prefers to wear her Sunday dresses and her fairy dress. We've had to set some rules about what can be worn to play outside! Despite her ladylike dress code, she can hold her own with the animals, as well as her brother, although I overheard a very funny conversation this afternoon at the park:
FB's 7 year old friend: "Princess! Come on up here and play with us!"
The Princess: "No, you're too wild."
Friend: "Pshaw! That's how boys are supposed to be!"
I am not making this up. She really said "too wild" and he really said "pshaw".
Stephen keeps busy planning farm projects and running into virtually insurmountable obstacles. If it wouldn't exhaust me I'd try to write down the details. Suffice to say, that I have reopened the discussion of naming the place "Snafu Farm." He manages to squeeze this into a 40+ hour week at his off farm job.
And I have directed most of my extra energy toward getting a Mama stress reduction system in place. I've had some health concerns this summer and have given up caffeine as a result. Lo and behold, I can no longer get by on 5 hours of sleep. So I have had to figure out how to find time for at least 7, as well as a 10 minute nap in the afternoon. In addition, I needed some way to keep on top of the housework and farm chores so that I did not feel like I was living in constant chaos. It's not a perfect system that we've got, but it is better than before. We start school on Aug.29, so we shall see how the system holds up as we shift gears back to our school schedule. I can't believe FB is going into 3rd grade... our fourth official year of home schooling.
No real animal news. Snowy the doe was not pregnant. So no goat milk. But in a way it is good. We really are not properly set up for it, and we have agreed not to get any more goats until we have a better location for them and a new shelter (part of which will be the milking area).
In general Stephen and I are both weary of regularly dealing with animal management problems due to poor facilities. None of the animals (expect the cows) are currently living where we'd ultimately like them to be. We are trying to sort out the basic framework of our vision, so we can break it down into attainable tasks. Until that time, we really don't want to add any more animals.
My absence from the blog was mostly due to my absence from the computer. The summer has been a busy one of house guests (including an extended visit from the Horse Whisperer, our niece from New York), and trying to get organized. We have put some new systems in place that seem to be working, and while I doubt I will ever feel like I am actually on top of things (there's ALWAYS something more to be done), I no longer feel like everything is completely out of control!
New animals to the farm include Joe, a 2 year old palomino apaloosa:
The HW has been working with him, hoping to train him and resell him as a started horse. He is showing promise as a cutting horse. He is fast and can turn quickly.
We also got 50 broiler chicks in early June:
Who now are 25 big fat chickens:
The other 25 are dead, most of them by our hands last Saturday (murderers!). We're getting better at the whole slaughtering process, better in the sense of faster and more efficient. Slaughter remains the least pleasant of all the farm duties. I confess I still have not done the actual killing myself, although I am in charge of the other end. I am now the resident evisceration queen. Yuck.
Three of the horses who have been part of our farm life, who were also horses with whom the HW has been working, were sold last Saturday. Hank, Chester and Cherokee left us, we pray to happy homes.
Hank:
Chester:
Cherokee:
Saturday was an emotional day... horses moving away, chickens dying.
As for the humans, by far the most complex and high maintenance animals on the farm, we are all well. The HW is here with us from mid-May to early Sept, so her stay is coming to a close. Today we took her to Cavender's Boot City, but she was unable to find boots or a hat for suitable Texan souvenirs.
Farmer Boy has spent most of his summer shirtless and muddy. A fine summer for an 8 year old! His best friend, who now lives in PA, visited for 12 days this summer, along with his parents and 4 siblings. It was a wonderful reunion for all of us, lots of laughter and kids and food.
The Princess is settling into her role and has rejected from her wardrobe all items of clothing that are not pink, purple, red or yellow. She finds she must change outfits at least twice a day in order to insure that she is suitably clean, and that the social requirements of the moment are met. She mostly prefers to wear her Sunday dresses and her fairy dress. We've had to set some rules about what can be worn to play outside! Despite her ladylike dress code, she can hold her own with the animals, as well as her brother, although I overheard a very funny conversation this afternoon at the park:
FB's 7 year old friend: "Princess! Come on up here and play with us!"
The Princess: "No, you're too wild."
Friend: "Pshaw! That's how boys are supposed to be!"
I am not making this up. She really said "too wild" and he really said "pshaw".
Stephen keeps busy planning farm projects and running into virtually insurmountable obstacles. If it wouldn't exhaust me I'd try to write down the details. Suffice to say, that I have reopened the discussion of naming the place "Snafu Farm." He manages to squeeze this into a 40+ hour week at his off farm job.
And I have directed most of my extra energy toward getting a Mama stress reduction system in place. I've had some health concerns this summer and have given up caffeine as a result. Lo and behold, I can no longer get by on 5 hours of sleep. So I have had to figure out how to find time for at least 7, as well as a 10 minute nap in the afternoon. In addition, I needed some way to keep on top of the housework and farm chores so that I did not feel like I was living in constant chaos. It's not a perfect system that we've got, but it is better than before. We start school on Aug.29, so we shall see how the system holds up as we shift gears back to our school schedule. I can't believe FB is going into 3rd grade... our fourth official year of home schooling.
No real animal news. Snowy the doe was not pregnant. So no goat milk. But in a way it is good. We really are not properly set up for it, and we have agreed not to get any more goats until we have a better location for them and a new shelter (part of which will be the milking area).
In general Stephen and I are both weary of regularly dealing with animal management problems due to poor facilities. None of the animals (expect the cows) are currently living where we'd ultimately like them to be. We are trying to sort out the basic framework of our vision, so we can break it down into attainable tasks. Until that time, we really don't want to add any more animals.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Come and have breakfast
I spent the past two days at an area home schooling conference. The hotel I stayed in offered free breakfast. After my first bite of the eggs I had to resist the urge to stand up and say to my fellow diners (strangers all), "Come to me, all you who are weary of tasteless eggs and burdened by chemically smoked sausage, and I will give you real food."
I hate to waste food, but I just could not finish it. It was making me feel sick.
I really just wanted to gather all those people up like little chicks and whip up a huge delicious breakfast for them. It truly is amazing what we are used to eating.
Stephen recently had a business dinner with some foreign visitors. During a discussion about what the visitors liked and disliked about America, a woman from Macedonia told the group that "All the people here are fat and the food tastes like plastic." Perhaps a connection there?
(With nods to Matthew 11:28-29, and meaning no disrespect whatsoever to my very favorite person ever, the gentleman who was quoted by Matthew. After all, we're talking about a dude who arose from the dead and cooked breakfast on the beach for his buds. And I quote: "Come and have breakfast." John 21:12)
I hate to waste food, but I just could not finish it. It was making me feel sick.
I really just wanted to gather all those people up like little chicks and whip up a huge delicious breakfast for them. It truly is amazing what we are used to eating.
Stephen recently had a business dinner with some foreign visitors. During a discussion about what the visitors liked and disliked about America, a woman from Macedonia told the group that "All the people here are fat and the food tastes like plastic." Perhaps a connection there?
(With nods to Matthew 11:28-29, and meaning no disrespect whatsoever to my very favorite person ever, the gentleman who was quoted by Matthew. After all, we're talking about a dude who arose from the dead and cooked breakfast on the beach for his buds. And I quote: "Come and have breakfast." John 21:12)
Thursday, June 09, 2005
A very full day
Oh my goodness have things been happening around here. Take Wednesday...
5:00 Wake up despite forgetting to set the alarm (thank you Lord!); take shower, clean out drawer in bathroom
5:30 Start laundry, begin planning day. Tops on list: call PO about chicks being delivered tomorrow, get brooder cleaned out and ready for chicks, babyproof house for company coming at 8:00am, remind the Horse Whisperer (our niece who is back with us for the summer) to call the lady from whom we're buying a horse.
6:00 Head to dining room for a few quiet minutes with my bible. Before I sit down the phone rings. It's the PO. Chicks are here already. Uh oh.
6:15 Move truck and trailer (aka the brooder) to front of house. Remove everything, sweep, splash vinegar all around, sweep again, trickle water to rinse vinegar mud, sweep again. Leave open to dry.
6:45 Go in to get keys for other truck to go to PO. Farmer Boy is awake, tell him to get dressed and clear a space under the carport for the brooder trailer. Go to PO.
7:00 Home again with a box of 50 baby chicks. Leave in dining room. Figure since they were supposed to be in transit for 2 days but arrived a day early, it won't be the end of the world if they stay in the box for a few more hours.
7:05 Alternate between cleaning house and carport, trying to simultaneously prepare for chickens and company, and make breakfast for kids.
8:00 Get call from friend that she will be late. Phew! Continue to hyper-multi-task.
8:30 Horse Whisperer awake. "Don't forget to call the lady about the horse". "Oh I talked to her last night, she's coming at 6:30 to deliver the horse." Deep breath, mental note, add to list of things to do: figure out what needs to be done before this horse arrives.
9:00 Friend arrives. I take her three year old in the house to play with the Princess for a few minutes, she takes Farmer Boy in her van and they go up the road to go blueberry picking
9:15 I get the two little girls in the truck and we go up too. Not many berries left since we are late arriving (best to start at 7:00!), but enough for everyone to have fun, and pick enough to enjoy at home.
11:00 My friend's 8 year old gets stung by a wasp at the blueberry farm.
11:15 After ice and meat tenderizer and benadryl and some menthol based ointment, I take the 8 yr old girl, plus the two 3 yr olds, back to my house for a homeopathic remedy.
11:20 I keep my friend's daughter company on the couch while her hand lays under a ziploc baggie filled with frozen corn, and we wait for her mom to come.
11:45 My friend arrives and I begin to make lunches
12:00 The phone rings. It is the Horse Lady needing directions. Our niece talks with her first, then asks me to give her directions. After we hang up I realize I didn't confirm the 6:30 time. I ask the HW, who is watching a movie, what time again? Ummm... 1:30. Aaack! As calmly as I can, I ask her what needs to be done to prepare for her new horse. Oh boy, we have our work cut out for us.
12:15 We are out in the courtyard between the four barns, where the goats live. The HW has decided to put her new horse in here for the first day so he is more contained. We haul stuff that she is worried he might hurt himself on, and use the pieces of a round bale ring to block access to an area that she is concerned about. We hammer up a cattle panel in a not especially effective attempt at preventing access to an old pile of wood and pipes under the loafing shed. Once again I am reminded of how much work there is still to do to get this falling down old farm truly safe and functional. On my way back to the house, I pick up garbage that the dogs had strewn the night before when they got into a few garbage bags that were left on a flat bed trailer.
1:20 Back in the house, splashing my hot face with water, I look up and see a lobster staring back at me. I am scared because I have never seen my face so red, even from sunburn, so I hop into a cool shower immediately, clothes and all. I get out, quickly dress and drink a few glasses of water. I have just finished brushing my hair when...
1:30 A truck and trailer drive in the yard. He's here! Everyone rushes to put on their shoes to see the new horse. He's GORGEOUS! A 2 year old Palomino Apaloosa. Wow! The HW is very happy.
1:45 Goats are out, oh well... they will stay around the yard until all the chicken feed is gone, and that will give the new horse time to settle in. I'm feeling shaky so I eat a little food, then sit down to finally enjoy my friend, who has been patiently waiting in the house, overseeing 6 children and lunch.
4:30 My friend and her four kids leave, and I sit down to do some meal planning for out of town company arriving on Saturday. The next day is my big shopping day in the city so I need to be sure to have a good list in hand.
5:15 About to head out to do more work on the brooder then realize the time and that I need to get dinner going. I work on dinner and cleaning the kitchen simultaneously.
6:15 Dinner is ready, we all sit down and eat.
7:00 Time to get back to work. The kids climb in the trailer/brooder and I drive down behind the barns to where we have a round bale that still has some decent hay deep inside. I peel aside moldy hay to find the good stuff, and with the help of the three young 'uns, we get the trailer bed covered in a nice clean hay blanket. The goats have followed us and are busy running around being silly and eating any yummy tidbit they find.
7:15 We gather some browse for the goats to eat in the pen, chase away the cows, and drive back into the courtyard, bringing the goats with us. We love on the horses a bit (the new boy has Hank in with him to keep him company), and feed the goats. I check on Mama Hen and her three babies who are almost teenagers now. I feed the goats their daily grain ration, and load a bag of lime onto the truck from the barn.
7:30 Stopping by the workshop to get the manure shovel, we drive back to the house and I carefully back the trailer under the carport. I scoop out all the chicken poop that has gathered under the carport. Since some of the chickens have decided to roost there, it has become a poopy place in some spots. We are beginning to have a problem with flies, and I don't want the chicks to have to deal with that. After putting the manure on the compost, I sweep, sprinkle ag lime, sweep that around, and cover it all with hay just in case anyone's paws or claws are sensitive to lime.
8:30 Thoroughly clean out a waterer, fill with fresh water, and a splash of apple cider vinegar and molasses. With some difficulty I get the roof on the brooder trailer. It is made of plywood which has warped since the last time we used the trailer for this purpose. I run an extension cord from the mudroom out the window to the carport, and hook up the brooder lamp. Yay! The bulb still works! I stuff a towel into the open crack of the house window where the extension cord goes out, and patch a hole low on one of the walls of the brooder where a knot fell out. I don't want chicks tumbling out!
9:30 The Princess, Farmer Boy and the Horse Whisperer climb into the brooder with the box of chicks. One by one the kids take the chicks out and dip their beaks in the fortified water. They love on them and coo to them and let them run all over their bodies. One chick is discovered who can't walk. Everyone wants to spend the night in the brooder. I veto that idea. The HW asks if she can keep the hurt chick in her room. Sure I say. Finally the Princess has had enough and climbs out and takes a shower.
10:30 Get the Princess out of the shower and manage to pry the HW and Farmer Boy out of the brooder. I close it up for the night.
10:35 Kids start eating the long promised dessert (good thing it's summer vacation... this is the day that refuses to end!). The Princess is just too exhausted and has a meltdown; I cart her off to bed telling her we'll save it for her tomorrow. There are tears but they are short-lived as she falls into a deep sleep while I rub her back.
10:45 Get Farmer Boy going on his bedtime routine; he is excited about the chicks and the horse and his friend visiting. It is hard to relax, but a shower helps.
11:30 Both little people FINALLY asleep!! Clean chick feeder, fill with chick starter (unmedicated!), put it in the brooder and watch for a while to see if they will catch on. Sure enough they slowly start to discover the food and eat. Head inside to clean up. Find a box for the HW's chick, and line with an old rag.
12:15 One last check on chicks. Temperature is good, they are happily eating.
12:30 While getting ready for bed, I hear a scurrying noise, look down and see a mammoth scorpion. A well aimed and firm smack with a book yields a disgusting smooshy sticky mess with a tail. Turns out scorpions are very easy to kill. My experience with killing bugs has not alway gone this smoothly, so I am always VERY firm and fast with anyone I'm hunting. A little overkill (pun intended) for this one, it turns out.
12:45 Check on sleeping kids... the HW is still up with a peeping chick in her hands. I spend some time with her in her room watching poor gimpy chick trying to stand and walk. The prospects are dim for this little guy.
1:00 Lights out! I don't think I even dreamed I was so exhausted! :-)
5:00 Wake up despite forgetting to set the alarm (thank you Lord!); take shower, clean out drawer in bathroom
5:30 Start laundry, begin planning day. Tops on list: call PO about chicks being delivered tomorrow, get brooder cleaned out and ready for chicks, babyproof house for company coming at 8:00am, remind the Horse Whisperer (our niece who is back with us for the summer) to call the lady from whom we're buying a horse.
6:00 Head to dining room for a few quiet minutes with my bible. Before I sit down the phone rings. It's the PO. Chicks are here already. Uh oh.
6:15 Move truck and trailer (aka the brooder) to front of house. Remove everything, sweep, splash vinegar all around, sweep again, trickle water to rinse vinegar mud, sweep again. Leave open to dry.
6:45 Go in to get keys for other truck to go to PO. Farmer Boy is awake, tell him to get dressed and clear a space under the carport for the brooder trailer. Go to PO.
7:00 Home again with a box of 50 baby chicks. Leave in dining room. Figure since they were supposed to be in transit for 2 days but arrived a day early, it won't be the end of the world if they stay in the box for a few more hours.
7:05 Alternate between cleaning house and carport, trying to simultaneously prepare for chickens and company, and make breakfast for kids.
8:00 Get call from friend that she will be late. Phew! Continue to hyper-multi-task.
8:30 Horse Whisperer awake. "Don't forget to call the lady about the horse". "Oh I talked to her last night, she's coming at 6:30 to deliver the horse." Deep breath, mental note, add to list of things to do: figure out what needs to be done before this horse arrives.
9:00 Friend arrives. I take her three year old in the house to play with the Princess for a few minutes, she takes Farmer Boy in her van and they go up the road to go blueberry picking
9:15 I get the two little girls in the truck and we go up too. Not many berries left since we are late arriving (best to start at 7:00!), but enough for everyone to have fun, and pick enough to enjoy at home.
11:00 My friend's 8 year old gets stung by a wasp at the blueberry farm.
11:15 After ice and meat tenderizer and benadryl and some menthol based ointment, I take the 8 yr old girl, plus the two 3 yr olds, back to my house for a homeopathic remedy.
11:20 I keep my friend's daughter company on the couch while her hand lays under a ziploc baggie filled with frozen corn, and we wait for her mom to come.
11:45 My friend arrives and I begin to make lunches
12:00 The phone rings. It is the Horse Lady needing directions. Our niece talks with her first, then asks me to give her directions. After we hang up I realize I didn't confirm the 6:30 time. I ask the HW, who is watching a movie, what time again? Ummm... 1:30. Aaack! As calmly as I can, I ask her what needs to be done to prepare for her new horse. Oh boy, we have our work cut out for us.
12:15 We are out in the courtyard between the four barns, where the goats live. The HW has decided to put her new horse in here for the first day so he is more contained. We haul stuff that she is worried he might hurt himself on, and use the pieces of a round bale ring to block access to an area that she is concerned about. We hammer up a cattle panel in a not especially effective attempt at preventing access to an old pile of wood and pipes under the loafing shed. Once again I am reminded of how much work there is still to do to get this falling down old farm truly safe and functional. On my way back to the house, I pick up garbage that the dogs had strewn the night before when they got into a few garbage bags that were left on a flat bed trailer.
1:20 Back in the house, splashing my hot face with water, I look up and see a lobster staring back at me. I am scared because I have never seen my face so red, even from sunburn, so I hop into a cool shower immediately, clothes and all. I get out, quickly dress and drink a few glasses of water. I have just finished brushing my hair when...
1:30 A truck and trailer drive in the yard. He's here! Everyone rushes to put on their shoes to see the new horse. He's GORGEOUS! A 2 year old Palomino Apaloosa. Wow! The HW is very happy.
1:45 Goats are out, oh well... they will stay around the yard until all the chicken feed is gone, and that will give the new horse time to settle in. I'm feeling shaky so I eat a little food, then sit down to finally enjoy my friend, who has been patiently waiting in the house, overseeing 6 children and lunch.
4:30 My friend and her four kids leave, and I sit down to do some meal planning for out of town company arriving on Saturday. The next day is my big shopping day in the city so I need to be sure to have a good list in hand.
5:15 About to head out to do more work on the brooder then realize the time and that I need to get dinner going. I work on dinner and cleaning the kitchen simultaneously.
6:15 Dinner is ready, we all sit down and eat.
7:00 Time to get back to work. The kids climb in the trailer/brooder and I drive down behind the barns to where we have a round bale that still has some decent hay deep inside. I peel aside moldy hay to find the good stuff, and with the help of the three young 'uns, we get the trailer bed covered in a nice clean hay blanket. The goats have followed us and are busy running around being silly and eating any yummy tidbit they find.
7:15 We gather some browse for the goats to eat in the pen, chase away the cows, and drive back into the courtyard, bringing the goats with us. We love on the horses a bit (the new boy has Hank in with him to keep him company), and feed the goats. I check on Mama Hen and her three babies who are almost teenagers now. I feed the goats their daily grain ration, and load a bag of lime onto the truck from the barn.
7:30 Stopping by the workshop to get the manure shovel, we drive back to the house and I carefully back the trailer under the carport. I scoop out all the chicken poop that has gathered under the carport. Since some of the chickens have decided to roost there, it has become a poopy place in some spots. We are beginning to have a problem with flies, and I don't want the chicks to have to deal with that. After putting the manure on the compost, I sweep, sprinkle ag lime, sweep that around, and cover it all with hay just in case anyone's paws or claws are sensitive to lime.
8:30 Thoroughly clean out a waterer, fill with fresh water, and a splash of apple cider vinegar and molasses. With some difficulty I get the roof on the brooder trailer. It is made of plywood which has warped since the last time we used the trailer for this purpose. I run an extension cord from the mudroom out the window to the carport, and hook up the brooder lamp. Yay! The bulb still works! I stuff a towel into the open crack of the house window where the extension cord goes out, and patch a hole low on one of the walls of the brooder where a knot fell out. I don't want chicks tumbling out!
9:30 The Princess, Farmer Boy and the Horse Whisperer climb into the brooder with the box of chicks. One by one the kids take the chicks out and dip their beaks in the fortified water. They love on them and coo to them and let them run all over their bodies. One chick is discovered who can't walk. Everyone wants to spend the night in the brooder. I veto that idea. The HW asks if she can keep the hurt chick in her room. Sure I say. Finally the Princess has had enough and climbs out and takes a shower.
10:30 Get the Princess out of the shower and manage to pry the HW and Farmer Boy out of the brooder. I close it up for the night.
10:35 Kids start eating the long promised dessert (good thing it's summer vacation... this is the day that refuses to end!). The Princess is just too exhausted and has a meltdown; I cart her off to bed telling her we'll save it for her tomorrow. There are tears but they are short-lived as she falls into a deep sleep while I rub her back.
10:45 Get Farmer Boy going on his bedtime routine; he is excited about the chicks and the horse and his friend visiting. It is hard to relax, but a shower helps.
11:30 Both little people FINALLY asleep!! Clean chick feeder, fill with chick starter (unmedicated!), put it in the brooder and watch for a while to see if they will catch on. Sure enough they slowly start to discover the food and eat. Head inside to clean up. Find a box for the HW's chick, and line with an old rag.
12:15 One last check on chicks. Temperature is good, they are happily eating.
12:30 While getting ready for bed, I hear a scurrying noise, look down and see a mammoth scorpion. A well aimed and firm smack with a book yields a disgusting smooshy sticky mess with a tail. Turns out scorpions are very easy to kill. My experience with killing bugs has not alway gone this smoothly, so I am always VERY firm and fast with anyone I'm hunting. A little overkill (pun intended) for this one, it turns out.
12:45 Check on sleeping kids... the HW is still up with a peeping chick in her hands. I spend some time with her in her room watching poor gimpy chick trying to stand and walk. The prospects are dim for this little guy.
1:00 Lights out! I don't think I even dreamed I was so exhausted! :-)
Monday, June 06, 2005
Fear
The other day we were up the road chatting with our neighbor, who casually mentioned seeing a bobcat on the road near our house last fall. Our current list of predators and generally dangerous critters that have actually been seen or heard on or near our farm includes:
bobcat
coyote
hawk
copperhead snake
wild hog
fox
scorpions
In addition we likely have Black Widow spiders, Brown Recluse spiders, rattlesnakes, and Water Moccasins.
Oy.
Some are dangerous to humans, but mostly my concern is for our animals. Generally speaking these predators avoid humans.
Oddly enough, hearing about the bobcat didn't really bother me. Isn't it interesting how we fear the unknown more than the known? When we first moved out here I was petrified of predators. Now I am cautious and attentive (and avoid the unlit barns after dark), but have better perspective on it all.
Being stung by a wasp the other day wasn't fun, but it was a gentle (if somewhat annoying) reminder that what we fear is often far more dramatic in our minds than in reality. The wasp sting burned like crazy... no fun, but it went away pretty quickly, and two days later I was swatting down a wasp's nest and killing wasps in the air with my shoe. Kind of like playing badminton. I knew the worst they could give to me, and I knew I'd survive it.
Which is not to say that I won't have a pounding heart if I look out to see a bobcat after one of my chickens!
Amusingly, the afternoon of the day my neighbor told me about the bobcat, Luke started acting weird and nervous. Here's what was scaring him:
On her way to see what Luke was after, Molly froze and growled at this:
And that night, as I was turning off lights to go to bed, I let the cat in, who stalked this:
Apparently humans aren't the only ones with irrational fears!
bobcat
coyote
hawk
copperhead snake
wild hog
fox
scorpions
In addition we likely have Black Widow spiders, Brown Recluse spiders, rattlesnakes, and Water Moccasins.
Oy.
Some are dangerous to humans, but mostly my concern is for our animals. Generally speaking these predators avoid humans.
Oddly enough, hearing about the bobcat didn't really bother me. Isn't it interesting how we fear the unknown more than the known? When we first moved out here I was petrified of predators. Now I am cautious and attentive (and avoid the unlit barns after dark), but have better perspective on it all.
Being stung by a wasp the other day wasn't fun, but it was a gentle (if somewhat annoying) reminder that what we fear is often far more dramatic in our minds than in reality. The wasp sting burned like crazy... no fun, but it went away pretty quickly, and two days later I was swatting down a wasp's nest and killing wasps in the air with my shoe. Kind of like playing badminton. I knew the worst they could give to me, and I knew I'd survive it.
Which is not to say that I won't have a pounding heart if I look out to see a bobcat after one of my chickens!
Amusingly, the afternoon of the day my neighbor told me about the bobcat, Luke started acting weird and nervous. Here's what was scaring him:
On her way to see what Luke was after, Molly froze and growled at this:
And that night, as I was turning off lights to go to bed, I let the cat in, who stalked this:
Apparently humans aren't the only ones with irrational fears!
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Happy Family
The hen finally adopted four chicks. We discovered one dead chick in the doghouse (possibly smothered by the dog's blanket) and the other five were probably eaten by something. Here's the happy family:
The new mother has the run of the barn. As you can see in this picture, we spared no expense in decorating the nursery. Finest barbed wire bales we could find.
The new mother has the run of the barn. As you can see in this picture, we spared no expense in decorating the nursery. Finest barbed wire bales we could find.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
More broody hens
The ladies are really thinking babies right now. We had TWO girls trying to hatch eggs in the stroller, often at the same time.
Here's one of them:
It was hysterical to see them in there, one on top of the other. One time, one had her wing over the other, like they were sisters, in this motherhood thing together. :-)
Unfortunately, hatching chicks in a stroller is not so great for chicks... nowhere to go to catch a breath of fresh air. Not to mention the fact that these hens weren't the most attentive moms and would hop off only to come back to an empty stroller thanks to the egg-stealing dogs. At last we took the hens out and folded up the stroller. This was not enough of a deterrence, as you can see:
The stroller is now in the barn and the hens are looking for other places to brood. There's one girl in the hen house that seems to have decided to send roots into the floor, so I suspect she's got babies on the mind.
I can understand the feeling; spring does make one long for something soft and little, doesn't it?
Here's one of them:
It was hysterical to see them in there, one on top of the other. One time, one had her wing over the other, like they were sisters, in this motherhood thing together. :-)
Unfortunately, hatching chicks in a stroller is not so great for chicks... nowhere to go to catch a breath of fresh air. Not to mention the fact that these hens weren't the most attentive moms and would hop off only to come back to an empty stroller thanks to the egg-stealing dogs. At last we took the hens out and folded up the stroller. This was not enough of a deterrence, as you can see:
The stroller is now in the barn and the hens are looking for other places to brood. There's one girl in the hen house that seems to have decided to send roots into the floor, so I suspect she's got babies on the mind.
I can understand the feeling; spring does make one long for something soft and little, doesn't it?
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Chicks in the Barn
Yesterday morning all 10 chicks were still alive, but Mama Hen was pecking at them so they were keeping their distance most of the time. Here they all are in the dog house:
You can see one little cutie peeking out from under Mama's wing... that was not by choice, she was put there as an experiment. Eventually Mama pecked at her too, so she ran away.
My hope was that by today Mama would have accepted the babies as her own. Unfortunately, she doesn't seem to have, but the babies are doing fairly well nevertheless. We may have lost two, because this morning's count was 8. Most of them were out of the dog house running around the barn, so the lost two may have been hiding, or may have wandered out of the barn and been eaten. :-(
They are 2 weeks old and have enough feathers that they can fly short distances. They are so cute!
Stephen said, "I can just see it now. They get to be 4 weeks old (teenaged chickens), and they're gonna be saying 'You can't tell me what to do. You're not my REAL mother.' And the hen will say, 'Your REAL mother was just a hatchery egg laying tramp!'".
You can see one little cutie peeking out from under Mama's wing... that was not by choice, she was put there as an experiment. Eventually Mama pecked at her too, so she ran away.
My hope was that by today Mama would have accepted the babies as her own. Unfortunately, she doesn't seem to have, but the babies are doing fairly well nevertheless. We may have lost two, because this morning's count was 8. Most of them were out of the dog house running around the barn, so the lost two may have been hiding, or may have wandered out of the barn and been eaten. :-(
They are 2 weeks old and have enough feathers that they can fly short distances. They are so cute!
Stephen said, "I can just see it now. They get to be 4 weeks old (teenaged chickens), and they're gonna be saying 'You can't tell me what to do. You're not my REAL mother.' And the hen will say, 'Your REAL mother was just a hatchery egg laying tramp!'".
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