For Christmas I want more power tools!

Christmas time on the farm has been relatively peaceful so far....our tree is still standing, despite Chunk's numerous attempts to get a better look at the star. Ceri loves crawling underneath it, but she has yet to knock it over. I'm sure she'll wait to do that until it's decorated. There's only been one real Christmas casualty - Fiona was able to knock the wreath down when I was mucking out her stall. She repaid my favor of giving her a sparkling clean bedroom by eating the bow.

Harvey has a new brand new bachelor pad; although I still let him and Claire run around together during the occasional play date. It took Gene about two weeks to get around to building it, mostly due to the seasonal conditions (football is on). Not being known for my patience, I decided I was going to finish it myself. Gene had managed to frame out the bachelor pad, but had yet to get around to roofing it or attaching the door. I figured that neither roofs nor doors seemed terribly difficult, especially since I routinely watch HG TV. I started my construction adventure by putting on my Carhartt overalls, since that's what they wear on those home improvement shows. (Notice the lack of a picture showing me in overalls...I do not rock the overalls). Then I went out into the garage to inventory Gene's vast selection of power tools. I started by making two piles - one consisted of tools I could determine which end was up, and the other of tools I couldn't figure out how to hold properly.

I narrowed down the first pile by asking myself if I knew what a real construction person (constructionist?) would do with it. That left me with two tools. Actually three, but one was just a smaller version of the other. I don't know what they're called, but I quickly gave up on the large one with the circle shaped blade when I couldn't figure out how to move the plastic safety shield. I brought the other one, a single saw blade with a motor, over to my 8' x 10' piece of plywood, which I had determined after much measuring and planning needed to be cut in half. I propped it up against the wall, then braced it with my boot and put the saw down on top of it. Which didn't work at all, because the teeth on the blade were pointed up, and my wood was beneath it. I then put the plywood down on top of some fence posts, and gave the smaller circle saw tool a go at it, since on that one the stupid plastic thing moved when you shoved it against the wood. It worked great for the first 2 centimeters... then it hit the driveway and stopped. I tried again, this time holding the saw up a few inches to give it more clearance. That worked too, until it got too heavy and hit the driveway again. The tool, realizing where this was headed, decided to stop working entirely. I went in and woke Gene up, trying to explain what was happening. He had just gone to bed a few hours ago, so he groggily told me that I was doing fine and just needed a bigger saw. Unfortunately (or fortunately) the bigger saw was the one I couldn't figure out how to move the safety shield, so I went back to the other saw thing, which I have since learned is a jigsaw. I am quite proud to say that after much noise, much swearing, and many, many minutes, I was able to cut the plywood in half. Then I had to stop because the bit for the screw gun fell out, and I couldn't get it to stick back in. Finally Gene came out and said I'd cut the plywood too short and now we couldn't use it at all. On the plus side, he finished Harvey's bachelor pad, and I have new respect for his carpentry skills.

Guess someone's a little hungry...and cranky

I discovered something a little disconcerting when I went to give Harvey and Claire their breakfast bag of salad. If I take too long to actually put the salad in their dish, Claire will express her frustration at my slowness by yanking the bowl out of my hand, flipping her head to the side, and throwing the bowl. Usually at me. I expect that kind of thing from your average two year old; from a pet rabbit, not so much. I have to cut her some slack though, I think she's pregnant. I also think they're a little older than the breeder I got them from said they were. Either that, or I wrote their ages down wrong (obviously I'm going with option A). At any rate, it looks like our rabbit breeding project just got moved up by three months. Which means Gene only has a few more days to section off the Bunny Ranch. 
It could be a false alarm though - apparently if a female rabbit is exposed to a male teenage rabbit's raging hormones, she can start acting pregnant, even though she isn't. She started building a little fur nest inside her box two days ago; if she actually is pregnant that means Gene has about three days left to finish rezoning the ranch. I'm super excited to have a bunch of baby rabbits! Although if we don't sell them all, the Bunny Ranch will need an addition. I can't imagine having up to ten bunnies of substantial size... Harvey and Claire are already bigger than the chickens!

In other farm news, I'm sad to say we lost Pippa. She was one of my favorite chickens, and the most friendly of the flock. The scary thing is I have no idea what was wrong with her... she was fine in the morning, then by nighttime I noticed she couldn't stand up without falling over. I immediately admitted her to the chicken hospital (also known as our master bathroom shower), but she didn't make it through the night. At least she went peacefully though. None of the other chickens are showing any sign of illness, in fact they are quite the opposite - both the chickens themselves and their eggs are getting larger. They are also going through feed at quite an amazing rate; they take after their mama in that they eat more when they're cold and bored.
Christmas and Thanksgiving are still enjoying their holiday reprieve. Christmas seems much more cuddly - every time I go into the pasture I'll turn around and she's huddled right behind me. She then looks up at me with her beautiful, pleading turkey eyes and says, "Let me live, mama". (Okay, not really, I threw that in because Gene reads these before I post them).

Puff Daddy also sneaks up behind me whenever I'm outside, except he's the opposite of cuddly. He's decided that boots, any kind of boots, are his arch nemesis and must die immediately. It's really hysterical, because he's one of the tiniest, fluffiest of all the chickens, but he'll give you the evil eye when you walk over to him, then without warning he'll run straight for your feet and start pecking them. 
It's much more endearing than Sean Paul's habit of exploding off the roost in the morning and flying straight at your face. He's in such a hurry to get out of the coop that he's actually  bounced off me a few times. He can also execute a 90 degree turn in the air, which is rather impressive. It's amazing what I've gotten used to as a farmer...what used to terrify me, such as a ball of squawking feathers and feet coming straight at me, now makes me say, oh, how sweet! He wants outside! Then I calmly turn my back and let him careen off my shoulder on his way to the great outdoors.
I've also found myself, on more than one occasion, finding a nice juicy slug clinging to the underside of the chicken's watering dish. The old, non-farming Andie would have screamed, dropped the dish, and ran to get Gene to move the slimy, nasty, bloated worm. But the seasoned farm girl Andie shrieks with delight, thinking what a tasty treat is in store for the ducks. Then I grab it with my bare hands (without even an inner cringe!) and throw it over the fence, where it is met with much happiness and quacking.

This hotel has a three night limit

As soon as I'm done updating the blog, I'm going to write a strongly worded letter to the good folks who make Superglue. Their product has nothing on what King Julian produces. I figured the bathroom would be an excellent place for him to recuperate after his play date with the eagles, since nothing sticks to linoleum right? OMG. It took me hours to clean that up, and I had several inches of straw down! A paint scraper was involved. It's a good thing we're in the middle of renovating our bathroom, or I might be vexed. Seriously, he even managed to poo on the wall. On the WALL! It would have been less work to flap on up to the toilet and use that then it was to hover like a feathered helicopter and open the blast doors, so to speak.

After two days of being woken up by King Julian's braying, Gene said he was well enough to go back outside. Today was the first time he's ever met Sean Paul, Marley, and Puff Daddy, but it went well, once all the a$$ kicking was done. Even without most of his feathers, he's still the biggest rooster on the block. I went to check on them just a little bit ago after I put everyone to bed, and the three other roosters were all sleeping on the floor, while King Julian was kicking it on the roosting bars, surrounded by his girls. It's good to be the king.

In rabbit news, I've been working on trying to bunny-proof the Bunny Ranch. I haven't gotten very far though, because stapling chicken wire to the ground is hard to do one handed. It's hard to do two-handed, which is why I think I'll hand the project off to Gene. The rabbits are getting a little cranky, though; I think they miss being able to hop around downstairs, even if it is all muddy and yucky. I'm going to change Claire's name to Bitey McFangfang, because every time I reach in their cage she takes a chomp. Apparently it's not an uncommon situation, since lots of people posted that question on the Internet. To remedy the problem, I'm supposed to slowly put my hand in the cage to feed them, so they don't perceive my arm as a threat. I'm not sure what about my timidly opening the gate, then shrieking and throwing their food at them when they lunge at me is threatening, but whatever. Clearly the author of that article never had a fifteen pound rabbit hanging off his forearm by its teeth. And the growling doesn't help. I'm seriously considering having people sign a waiver before they come visit us. (Sure, the bathroom is the second door on the right, don't startle the rooster though!)

A happy Thanksgiving for everyone!

Hell has officially frozen over here at the farm... Gene is letting me keep a rooster in the house! Of course it's just on a temporary basis; poor King Julian got to soar with the eagles yesterday.... until they dropped him. Our neighbor found him early this morning, and now he is recuperating in our master bathroom shower. He lost over half of his feathers, and was so shivering and cold from being outside all night that even Gene couldn't deny him the luxury of indoor living until he gets better.
 
In another outpouring of unexpected charity on Gene's part, he decided to give poor Thanksgiving a reprieve, mostly because he didn't want to butcher in the monsoon-like weather we're having. I never thought I would find myself ecstatic over the fact that it's raining, but I must say I hope the weather around the end of December continues with the same theme. Maybe then Gene will just give up on his misguided idea that the poor defenseless turkeys are destined to be dinner. I suggested that we roast a nice bald eagle or two, but apparently there is some type of law preventing that. National symbol status aside, those birds had best start treating someone else's backyard like a giant buffet or it's going to start raining lead.

Since King Julian is living it up indoors for the foreseeable future, I moved Marley and Shawn Paul out into the main coop. They are fitting in well with the girls, and have already made themselves at home. I plan to move Fluff Daddy and Puff Mama out soon as well, then the ducks can start sharing the kennel set up with the turkeys. So far the ducks haven't seemed the slightest bit interested in having any sort of roof over their heads, in fact Paris, Nikki, and Bedonkaduck all sleep on top of the kennel roof no matter what type of weather we're having. Harvey and Claire are similarly oblivious to the cold. One night was so frigid that everybody's water froze, so I tried putting a heat lamp in the Bunny Ranch. Claire hated it - she ran around in circles making a weird shrieking noise until I took it down. 

They have turned into bunnies of substantial size, large enough to leap up three feet. They love to jump on top of their hutch, so now they enjoy three levels of ranch living space. For some reason they hop over to me every time I enter the bunny ranch, and when I'm staring at them at eye level, they seem almost too big. I made the mistake of going in there empty handed the other morning, and when I reached in to take their water bowls out Harvey expressed his displeasure by sinking his teeth into my hand. Now at a minimum I bring wheat thins with me every time. Gene said I should have smacked him, but since Harvey can't use words, how is he supposed to tell me he's hungry? I think he made his point rather well.

Winter blahs...and it's only November!

The thing I hate most about this time of year, besides the below freezing temperatures, near constant rain, and cold dreary wind is the fact that it gets dark promptly at five o'clock. That means I leave for work in the dark, and come home to find the critters have pretty much put themselves to bed. I then have to grab a Coleman lantern, hang it from my cast, and go about dispensing food and water in the dark. I think it's going to be a very cold winter, based on how shaggy Princesses Fiona and Buttercup have gotten. I'm amazed the ducks still enjoy swimming in their pool; just looking at them frolicking in the water when the temperature is two degrees above freezing makes me shudder. We are going to have to rig up quite a few electric water warmers if this keeps up. Either that, or give the ducks ice skates. And on a totally related note, did you know you can buy knit booties and hats for chickens??? How cute is that?

Harvey and Claire don't seem to mind the freezing weather either; of course, they have packed on enough winter insulation to survive in Antarctica. They have to be at least 15 pounds now. Much to their dismay, Gene blocked off their burrows by driving rebar into the ground. That seems to have cured the burrowing problem; after pressing their noses through the bars and looking at me with sad puppy eyes they finally gave up trying to get out. Eventually we will ring the entire enclosure with rebar. That's way easier than putting in a concrete floor.

The chickens don't roam as far from their coop now; they seem content to cuddle with each other and hang out in their winter enclosure. They have also noticeably put on some winter weight, to the extent that pretty soon Gene is going to need to reinforce the roosting bars. It's really cute to see all 11 of them trying to cram themselves onto two bars; they must do that to stay warm. They have also taken to using the same nesting box, often at the same time. The Fancy Chickens also stay inside their A-frame condo for most of the day. Fluff Mama should start laying eggs any day now, I've already found one of those weird "practice eggs" that look like deflated shells. After Thanksgiving and Christmas have transitioned to a higher plane of existence, the plan is to give the Fancy Chickens the run of the kennel coop, and cut a small hole in the door so they can go out into the pasture if they'd like. I wish we could just leave the door open, but the goats love to go in there and eat the chicken feed. I had to shoo Fiona out the other day, and I tried to shove her rear end to get her out the door. In response she would put all her weight on her front legs, and I would end up raising her butt up above her head instead of actually making her go anywhere. She's like an obstinate two year old. The six chicks in the brooding box are oblivious to the weather, since their environment is temperature controlled. They are at that awkward stage where their bodies are still puffballs, but they have proper feathered wings. Gene said no more chickens after he got me the six of them, but he also said that after we got the flock of Americaunas, so clearly more chickens are in my near future.

Drama is always in season

This was my first week back to work, so you can imagine the guilt I was feeling about leaving the critters to fend for themselves after a month of dispensing treats and cuddles three times a day. When I got home on Tuesday, I was horrified to see Claire sitting outside the chicken coop. I herded her back into the Bunny Ranch and quickly realized Harvey was nowhere to be found. I looked down and saw they had dug an escape tunnel large enough to make any Alcatraz inmate proud. I spent the next four hours crawling around the backyard with a flashlight wailing, "Harvey, Harvey come home!" I'm sure the neighbors thought I sounded like a Lifetime network movie. I finally found him underneath one of the decks; he popped out when I started shaking grain in his food bowl. Then I spent the next half an hour trying to herd him back home; I finally just scooped him up, which was difficult one handed. I had the brilliant idea of trying to hold him wedged between my arm, neck, and chin, and promptly remembered they have really, really sharp claws. I eventually got them both tucked back into their hutch, and I was so happy they were safe I gave them double rations of apples and leafy chard. I'm sure they learned their lesson. Now poor Gene has to spend his weekend making the lower level of the ranch bunny proof. (And I told him his solution could not involve electricity in any way.)
I'm not sure why the bunnies felt compelled to escape; we've gotten a hard frost every night, and rain every day. Everyone but the ducks is already impatient for spring to come. I bailed out their pond over the weekend, mostly because you could smell it before you could see it. I had let it go for a few weeks because it takes forever to bail it out one-handed. I moved the pond liner since there was a lot of rain water underneath it, and discovered a group of small frogs. I was worried they would be crushed when I refilled the pond, so I carefully picked them up and put them to the side. I turned to grab the liner again, and was startled by a high pitched screaming sound from right behind me. I was happier before I knew that frogs shriek as they're being swallowed by ducks. So much for keeping them safe.

In happier news, Gene finally grew weary of my not so subtle comments regarding how sad and empty the brooding box looked, so he got me six new chicks! About a week old, and sooooo cute. They are Golden Sex-Link; the color of the chick is linked to the sex, so male chicks are white and females are golden. The new chicks bring the grand total up to 21 chickens! Only 18 of them will live in the coop though, the fancy roosters will live in the pasture. Gene said the chicken coop has reached its capacity, so I told him he better start building another one. The woman we bought the chicks from has over 400 (400!) chickens, so she's making us look like chicken farming rookies.

Gene and I winterized the garden today, and the chickens had a blast running around the turned dirt digging out earthworms and bugs. After struggling to uproot the Tomatonater, Gene made me promise to only grow tomatoes in pots next year. The Tomatonater resembled more of a shrub than a tomato plant, the root balls were huge. My job was to go around with a bucket and pick up all the fallen, squishy, rotten tomatoes. By the end of it, I might as well not have been wearing a glove. Yuck. And I thought the duck pond smelled bad.

Oh, how I wish I could un-see that

Despite being a chicken farmer for over a year now, I realized today that I'm not wholly familiar with their diet. Insects, grains, and plants, yes. Cute little field mice? Really? And was it necessary to kill it, gut it, then swallow it like an anaconda eating a goat right in front of me? I had flashbacks to that horrible day when the duck ate the frog. At least the field mouse didn't get a chance to wave good bye to me while hanging out of Nikki's beak... he went quick. To make up for the horror of watching the food chain in gory, stomach-wrenching action, I decided to see if the critters would like pumpkin. Gene had prepared one to be carved, and I saved the innards. The ducks went absolutely nuts for it, as did the chickens. I finally found the one treat the rabbits won't eat, though. They put up such a fuss about not having a palatable snack that I made Gene go to the feed store and get them their favorite granola honey sticks.

Harvey and Claire are not destined to be roommates for much longer; Harvey has finally figured out which is Claire's "business end", as it were, so we need to separate them. Although Claire is capable of reproducing now, the literature I've consulted (okay, I looked online), recommended separating them at four to five months, then allowing them to date at eight months. Of course, the upshot of all my Internet research means more work for Gene, as he now needs to build Harvey a suitable bachelor pad. My grand plan is to allow them each access to the ground level of the Bunny Ranch on alternating days. I'm sure they won't mind, because their separate areas have more than enough room to frolic and run around. I'm even pondering the merits of procuring another male and female, just so they don't get lonely, but the thought of that many baby bunnies is a little daunting. Cute, but daunting.

Christmas is coming early this year...

Today was absolutely beautiful. Every where I looked there were animals peacefully basking in the sunshine. All except one. Christmas spent most of her day parked in front of the kennel, staring hungrily at Sean Paul and Marley, the little roosters. If she was capable of it, she would have been drooling. She's rapidly convincing me that she will be first to nestle amongst the mashed potatoes and gravy. I heard a ruckus yesterday, and ran outside to find Christmas and King Julian having another row through the fence. Christmas was chittering like a demonic wind up toy, and King Julian's feathers were standing straight out from his neck. He would stick his neck through the holes and hang from Christmas's head. It was horrible. It was hard to decide which one I was less scared of, but I finally opted for shoving Christmas back with my boot. She would immediately run back to the fence though, so I changed tactics and booted King Julian. That distracted him from Christmas, but then he decided to go after me. I ran away from the fence, and I'm faster than him, so crisis averted.

Unfortunately it took King Julian a few fights to realize Christmas is not a turkey  accustomed to losing. I went outside to find poor King Julian's long fancy tail spread all over the yard, right in front of the fence. On the plus side, he now completely ignores Christmas, but he sure does look ridiculous. I hope his feathers grow back soon, because aesthetically he's quite lopsided. Christmas, on the other hand, is walking around congratulating herself on how tough she is. She has started parking her butt right inside the kennel door at night when I go to feed them, so poor Thanksgiving can't get to his food. He is far too uncoordinated to maneuver around her - he's so fat forward is really his only option. He just bumps up against her, then stares at his food bowl looking confused by the fact he's not eating yet. Since I'm still one-handed, I can't just pick her up and move her, and truthfully I'm a bit afraid to bend down within eye-pecking level anyway. I don't have the heart to kick her, even though she totally deserves it, so I usually just climb over Thanksgiving, put my boot up against her and slide her across the floor. Which is quite the workout, given her girth. 
Oddly enough she isn't a complete pig when I dispense treats; I really think she knows her name because if I say, "Here, Christmas", she'll eat that treat, and not chase after everyone else's morsels. The all around favorite is apple and grape slices. All the critters, even the ducks, recognize what the white bowls mean, and the minute I step off the deck with one there's a stampede to the pasture gate. Literally, a stampede. I need to take a video of it, because few people have witnessed the spectacle of 6 ducks, 2 goats, 2 turkeys, and 11 chickens rampaging toward them. Treat dispensing isn't something to be done lightly, however. Thanks to Christmas, you can't let your hands dangle down within her reach, because she'll mistake your fingers for grape slices. Or she just likes to bite. Either way, you'll need a Band-Aid.

Harvey and Claire also get excited whenever I walk into the Bunny Ranch with a bowl. They will both zoom around the perimeter, then barrel up the ladder to see what I brought them. They are also partial to grapes and apples. Gene says I have to figure out something we can grow here to give them as treats; apparently he doesn't agree with me that the whole reason for earning a paycheck is to buy nutritious critter snacks. Really, how can you deprive something that cute of fresh apple slices?

October Sun

We had two straight days of sunshine, which is rare for this time of year. All the critters were loving it; the ducks spent all day in the pond, and the goats found a sunny spot perfect for napping. Since it wasn't raining, we decided to let the two Polish roosters out for a romp in the pasture. They weren't too sure about their new found freedom, especially when King Julian noticed them through the fence. They also needed a dedicated Christmas-minder, because for some reason the female turkey is not terribly friendly. Right before Gene put the metal grate across the A-frame, I heard a loud fuss and ran into the kennel to find the white Silkie hanging from Christmas's beak. Now that they've been separated, she's taken to hungrily staring through the kennel door. And don't worry, the Silkie is fine. Although you can see him shudder whenever Christmas squawks.

We also let Harvey and Claire out for a spin around the yard. Claire got about half a foot outside, looked around, then went back to her food bowl. Harvey, on the other hand, cruised all over the place. He can really move for such a roly-poly thing. He also required constant minding, since we didn't want to have to fish him out from under the deck, or out of the brambles. At least we didn't have to worry about predators with him, I don't think even an eagle could carry him off.

I know they're big bunnies (Harvey is about ten pounds at only three months), but the amount of food they eat still amazes me. I can put half a bowl of cut grapes or mini carrots down, and by the time I get the door shut it's pretty much devoured.  I'm going to have to grow a lot of veggies in the greenhouse this winter, because they are quite accustomed to being presented with an array of fresh produce every day. Gene says I spoil them, but he says that about all the critters.

Speaking of critters to spoil, exciting news! We got three new ducks! We (and by 'we', I mean 'I') decided that what the farm desperately needed was more ducks. I found three drakes for sale, which matches up perfectly with our three girls. We brought them home in apple crates. The Bedonkaduck, Paris, and Nikki were immediately intrigued, especially after I yelled, "Look! I have boxes full of boys!" The drakes, named Bear (because he survived a bear attack when he was three months old), Smudge, and Daffy, absolutely love their new home. They spent two solid days playing in the pond. When I went to check on them shortly after their arrival, a pool party was in full swing. All six of them were happily paddling around, and bikini tops were flying everywhere.

Let's not bite mama...

Feeding time here at the zoo has become a well-orchestrated task. Since everybody prefers everyone else's particular type of food, when I open the gate armed with my pink food scoops hilarity ensues. Followed quickly by howling, pecking, and head-butting. I feed the goats first; they get a large scoop of goat chow sprinkled with poultry pellets. The pellets, which the goats love, distract them long enough for me to open the door to the turkey kennel and fill their bowl. Now that the fancy chickens are living in the A-frame, I have to quickly put the metal grate over their door to keep the turkeys out. Sometimes Fiona will abandon her bowl to the ducks and come charging over to try and steal the turkey food, so I have to slam the kennel door, then usher the turkeys in one at a time. Tonight I slammed the door, and Fiona went back to battling the ducks for a spot at the trough. I went back to securing the fancy chickens, and when I turned around Thanksgiving was standing in front of the door, staring at his food dish disconsolately. He looked like a fat kid that got to the candy store five minutes after they closed. I opened the door for him, and of course he waddled to the wrong side, getting himself stuck between the open door and the kennel fence. Because A) he's not the sharpest tool in the shed and B) he's so fat moving any way but forward is difficult for him, he was stuck having to make what turned into a 39-point turn. Keep in mind that by now it's dark, it's raining, and I have a new cast which makes my right arm totally unusable,  so by now mama's a little on the cranky side. I tried to help Thanksgiving by turning him to face the right direction, and he rewarded me by taking a huge chomp out of my leg. Lucky for him I'm still on pain meds, or a particular holiday might have been celebrated tonight.

It seems like all the animals know I'm not bringing my A-game right now, as it were, because they've been respecting my authority even less than usual. I feel like the slow, medicated, sporting-a-cast wildebeest being singled out by hyenas. Even Harvey bit me the other day! I think that's because he was racing to beat Claire to a carrot though, and not spurred by any viciousness on his part. I hope. Because they're going to get too big to be all bitey like that.

Speaking of viciousness, I noticed two of the ducks, Paris and Nikki, fighting over some delicious tidbit Paris found. Nikki won, and when she ran past me, I was horrified to see it was a frog. I love frogs. I've gone out of my way to make our property frog friendly, and I had no idea ducks ate them. It was like a train wreck though - I watched her swing it around in her bill till she finally crammed it all in, except for one frantically waving webbed hand. It was disconcerting to see one cute thing eat another cute thing, like if a puppy suddenly ate a kitty.

Other than that little bit of horror, things have been peaceful here on the farm. Since I'm off work for a bit and can't do much, I sit outside on nice days and watch all the critters. When Gene's home I supervise his work on various projects from my comfy chair. He finished the winter enclosure for the chickens, which has a distinctly red neck vibe to it. It works well, though, and the chickens go in it when it starts to rain. It even has a grow light in it.

The only one who doesn't use it is Condi - she's still broody. I had the brilliant idea of giving her two of Christmas's eggs to hatch, so we can get an early start on next year's turkeys. I will know in about 28 days if that will work. In other chicken news, Gene got me five new Americauna chickens! They are about a year old, and will lay dark green eggs. I'm very excited. There are four hens and a rooster, whom I've named King Julian. So far they are getting along well with our girls. King Julian and the fancy roosters get into the occasional crow off, so between all the roosters and the turkeys our yard is very cheerful sounding.

Nature Sucks

Tonight was dark and stormy, and true to the cliche I found myself walking alone down the dirt road to bring my friend a blackberry crisp I had just baked. She agreed to help me pick blackberries this afternoon in exchange for my turning them into something tasty and delicious to share with her family. Normally my vivid imagination prevents me from walking alone at night, but I figured I was brave enough to walk four houses down, no matter how dark and creepy our road was. Naturally my mind drifted to all the horrors that can befall a lone traveler, and I found myself pondering what my "Missing - Have You Seen Me?" poster would look like. The realization that my description would read something along the lines of "last seen wearing red plaid flannel pants, pink Crocs, and a 'Swamp People' T-shirt" makes me think perhaps I should try harder in the wardrobe department.

In addition to baking - I also made muffins - I spent most of the day helping Gene build a PVC pipe winter enclosure for the chickens. We just lost Mary Kate to a sneak attack in broad daylight, so I want to curtail their free range activities when they're unsupervised. Several neighbors have reported seeing a huge coyote that is brave enough to chill on people's porches; apparently Gene and I are the only ones who walk around armed, because people keep seeing it. I only need to see it once. To keep the chickens safe, Gene designed a huge framework that he's going to wrap in chicken wire, then I'll design various play areas inside so they don't get bored. He has put his foot down in response to my request for a water feature, but that won't stop me from asking again. And again.


We also winterized the turkey pen and the Bunny Ranch by wrapping three sides in plastic to keep the rain out. The plan was to do the same to the goat's covered area, but Fiona nixed that idea by eating the plastic from the turkey pen. We had to build frames, staple the plastic inside, then slide them into the turkey kennel. I was really of no help at all, since once again I've got my right arm in a cast. Plus I'm still on pain meds, so not only does Gene have to put up with my lack of coordination, but he also gets to work around me staring into space for periods of time. Which actually isn't much different than usual.

Since I can't pick up the bunnies safely one handed, Gene built them a ladder so they can come and go as they please during the day. At first they were scared of it, but now they race up and down it chasing each other. Clearly they need a jungle gym. The exercise wouldn't hurt them - they are sporting huge beer guts now. Pound for pound they're catching up with Thing 1, which makes sense for 40-lb bunnies. They are still very social, and will hop right up to me. They seem to like being held now, especially if you bribe them with grapes first. I have yet to hear them make any noise (apart from chewing), but apparently they can make some sort of skittering or humming noise.

At least I can grab the chickens easily one-handed. Condi is still broody, so the best part of being home from work is I can boot her outside every few hours. I also moved the fancy chickens outside, figuring they can benefit from fresh air. They are living in the A-frame inside the turkey kennel, since they're too young to be outside quite yet. I didn't think Christmas could still fit inside, so I didn't think them sharing the kennel at night would be an issue. I went to check on them just after dark, though, and found Christmas standing under the heat lamp with four cowering chicks trying to be invisible. It was truly reminiscent of Godzilla stomping Tokyo. It took me half an hour to shoo her out, then I put up a barricade so she can't get back in. She could easily have killed all four of them, so I'm glad I'm obsessive enough to check on everyone at least once after dark.

I'm trolling Craig's list for replacement chickens, because I'd like our flock to be at least 12 strong. I would also like for the whole predator/prey relationship to stop illustrating itself in our backyard. I'm temped to dust all the chickens with cayenne powder. 

It's canning time!

Gene and I spent most of the weekend canning. We had friends from work come over on Saturday, and we harvested enough blackberries to make 14 pints of blackberry jelly and 5 pints of blackberry syrup. Then today, we canned peaches, pears, and apples, and made tomato sauce. Last week we canned more blackberries, and made salsa and ground cherry jam . Gene had the brilliant idea of moving the canning station inside to the covered porch he built last year, which means we can process fruits and veggies anytime without having to worry about the weather. It's also bug and wind free, although it's not kitty and puppy free. That's the only drawback. I was a little worried because I always thought you weren't supposed to use propane inside, but I guess it's ventilated enough. We're not dead yet, anyway, and we've been canning a lot.

When I'm not canning, I've been harvesting. I even tackled the Tomatonator, which is disconcerting. The ripe tomatoes are all hiding inside the shrubbery, and the green ones ring the perimeter. Unfortunately, the spiders lurk inside too. I really really really wanted to make salsa though, so I downed some liquid courage (of the bright blue wine cooler variety, cuz I'm classy like that), and dove in. Literally. Since the tomato bushes are about five feet high, I have to part the branches and lean in to get the ripe ones. In addition to hoards of spiders, the Tomatonator is also home to birds and wild rabbits, neither of which enjoys being disturbed and both of which will let you know by exiting the shrubbery straight at your face. Harvesting the peppers for the salsa was also challenging, although more in a culinary sense rather than an "oh my god it's coming right for us" kind of way. I was sampling the peppers, trying to find the hot variety I was sure I planted, but none of them were the least bit spicy. Until you eat a whole one. Then it tastes like fire, for the rest of the day. The salsa is going to be awesome though.

Harvesting the ground cherries was my favorite crop, since they taste fresh and citrusy, and they fall on the ground when they're ripe. You don't have to fight birds, squirrels, or spiders to get them. For those of you who don't know what they are, they are related to tomatillos and gooseberries; they grow in paper husks which you remove right before eating them. They make excellent jam, and are good in pies or eaten raw in salads. Or right out of the harvesting bucket, if you're me.

In farm animal news, Condi is still broody. All she wants to do is hang out in the shed. I even tried dunking her in a bucket of cold water a few times, in an effort to get her body temperature down. (It increases when they're broody, since the instinct to incubate their eggs has kicked in.) I thought she was annoyed when I kept kicking her out of the coop... that's nothing compared to how she got after being dunked in the bucket. She ran in circles around me squawking and huffing and puffing, and then went straight for my head. Again. She sat on my shoulder for awhile, and this time Gene was out there so he could take a picture. Which also would have been useful to show the EMTs, had she been successful in plucking out my eyeballs like I'm sure she wanted too. When I put her back down on the ground, I made the mistake of turning my back on her, and she climbed up the back of my shirt using her talons.  Apparently she's not a fan of bathing.


Paris, Nikki, and the Bedonkaduck are huge fans of the water, no matter what temperature it is outside. They are good friends now, and will even eat out of the same food bowl without chasing each other off. The Bedonkaduck and Paris sleep together on the roof, but poor Nikki hasn't figured out how to get up there yet. She likes to hang out with the turkeys instead. 

Speaking of turkeys, I don't think I'll feel bad about eating Thanksgiving. He's gotten so fat now he can barely waddle around; the fastest he ever moves is when I fill their food bowl at night. He's like the 600 lb guy that hangs out in the recliner all day. Sure he's happy, but it's kind of a quality of life issue. He still gets it on with Christmas with stunning regularity though, he's got some serious moves for a fatty.


I'm not sure how Christmas stays so thin, since she also eats everything in sight. She's like the annoying friend we all have who eats dessert every time you go out but never gains weight. I've discovered that in addition to watermelon, she loves apples, peaches, and pears. All the critters were ecstatic this weekend because they got all the scraps from canning. Harvey and Claire were especially happy, since it's a lot of work to maintain their epic growth rate.

It's a good thing Gene built the Bunny Ranch to the scale that he did, because dang. They're growing fast. They can mow their way through a handful of grapes and a few leaves of chard before you even have time to close the gate. They've become very friendly, and actually like to cuddle with people now. Always a good trait in 40 pound bunnies.

Goodbye Summer

I think Fall has officially arrived. The front yard is full of fallen leaves (where they will remain until spring, because watching our neighbor twitch is so much fun) and the air has that crispness about it. I'm sad about the end of summer, especially since my tomatoes aren't ripe yet, but I do love all the harvesting that's associated with fall. Canning production here on the farm is in full swing - we made 10 pints of plum jam from plums that a neighbor grew, and 4 pints of blackberry/plum jam. It's a good thing we buy sugar in bulk, because we burned through about 30 cups of it. Gene and I also made 6 pints of amaretto blackberries, which should taste amazing. And here's hoping the canning process didn't zap all the alcohol out. In other harvest news, wild bunnies ate the remainder of my lentil crop, so I wasn't thrilled about that. I'm tempted to let Harvey and Claire out, so they can eat the wild bunnies. 

Our new rabbits are loving the Bunny Ranch, and they've commissioned some upgrades. Gene added a litter box, an ingenious plumbing system (their poo falls between the slats and onto a plastic panel, which then runs into a plastic tub), a small bench so I can sit and play with them, and several treat stations. My contribution was a beaded door pull. I commented one day that they should probably have some toys, just in case they got bored, so Gene had our local hardware store special order some rabbit toys. They came in today, and Gene was excited because he got to go into McClendon's and ask where they kept their bunny balls. The bunnies love them - they toss them up into the air.

In bird related news, I got two new pals for the remaining Bedonkaduck. She seemed kind of lonely, so I trolled Craig's List and found two Muscovy ducks for sale. The three get along great, and the Muscovies are gorgeous - they have dark green, blue, and brown highlights. I've named them Paris and Nikki, just because they are both fairly dumb but they look beautiful. They're fitting right in - their favorite spot is the wading pool. 

The chickens are happy too, for the most part. Condi has gotten very broody, and she would sulk in her nesting box all day long if we let her. I pulled her out this afternoon and forced her to go outside. She was clearly unhappy about it - she puffed up to fifteen times her normal size, and paced back and front of me bobbing her head. She was clucking and huffing and giving me her "oh no you didn't" look. I think she was annoyed that I was laughing at her. I was standing near her with my arms crossed, and all of a sudden she launched herself right at my face. By the time I finished thinking, "wow, that angry ball of feathers is coming right at my face", she was already perched on my arms, which I didn't have a chance to uncross because I was so busy wondering if she was really attacking me. (You'd think given my occupation that I would have better reflexes, but apparently not.) So now she's sitting on my arms, facing me, and staring at me while bobbing her head back and forth and clucking. I'm too afraid to look at her, because I'm worried she's about to go for my eyes. I kept looking down at the ground, off to one side, hoping she would get off. She seemed perfectly happy to perch there, though, so I gently uncrossed my arms and tried to reposition her (difficult when I'm too scared to look at her), and she climbed up onto my shoulder where she sat like a huge parrot. In retrospect, it was really cute and charming (mostly because I'm still in possession of both my eyes), but at the time it was kind of scary. Gene said I should have batted her out of the air with a quickness, but I have a hard time defending myself against cute things. 

Princess Fiona knows this, and has no problem punching me in the stomach with her hooves if I don't feed her fast enough. That particular habit I'm trying to break her of, because I've seen too many episodes of "When Animals Attack" to let that kind of behavior slide. She did it again today when I was handing out watermelon. With the exception of Thanksgiving and Buttercup, that is everyone's favorite treat, and they mob me for it. I have to take turns dispensing watermelon chunks, and god help me if Fiona doesn't get hers first. Next comes Christmas, then the ducks, then the chickens, then Fiona again. She's really the only one that doesn't patiently wait her turn, which doesn't shock me since she's the biggest.  Harvey and Claire love watermelon too - they basically inhale it. Actually, they inhale pretty much anything that's put in front of them. They're doubled in size since we brought them home.

The Fancy Chickens are ecstatic to have the full run of their brooding box back. They are getting big quickly as well - I had to put a second feed bowl in their for them. The biggest Polish chicken likes to perch on top of the water dispenser. He's a confirmed rooster - when you walk past the garage you can hear this really squeaky, high-pitched crowing noise. He's trying so hard to sound tough, but not quite making it; he's more like the equivalent of the Vienna Boy's Choir. They should be ready to integrate with the rest of the flock by October, although I think we'll let the roosters live in the goat pasture with the ducks and the turkeys. I would like at least one batch of fertilized eggs, so I can watch chicks hatch, but mostly I want to be able to eat the eggs.