I'm anticipating a rather large problem...

So now that our pork supplies have dwindled in the garage freezer, Gene decided we could raise another pig. A few days ago we camehome with 7-week-old Porculous the Tasty, and I've already fallen in love. He climbs in my lap and eats fresh watermelon, he loves apples, and he'll bury his head in a bag of frozen peas and corn. He also demands back scritchies and tummy rubs, and has the most adorable little snout on the planet. I don't care if he'll turn into a 900-lb boar if we don't butcher him, at least he'll be the world's friendliest one.

So needless to say, he needs a name change. I'm thinking Porculous the Adored, or Porculous the Cuddler. Right now he's living in the Bunny Ranch (more on that later), where he and I can get to know each other. So far he associates me with treats, since I never come in there empty handed. In about a week, we will put him out in the large fenced area, where he'll have a ton of shady cool areas, muddy areas, and lots of trees to rub against. Plus he can hang out with Wool and Shy, who both seem utterly fascinated by him already.

So if you're wondering where Skeeter and Mac are since Porculous moved into the Bunny Ranch, don't worry. They're down at Abby's. She decided to take them in after they decimated my raised beds in the front. Four times in a row. Not only did they chow down on all the veggie starts I'd sprouted from seed, they also ate through almost $200 worth of starts from my favorite garden store. So now I'm about two months behind where I should be, and Abigail is already harvesting broccoli. But her raised beds are covered, so they should be safe. And the bunnies are really happy - Mac has bonded with her rabbit, and it's fun to watch all three huge rabbits rampaging around her yard.

In other critter news, the pups are enjoying the heatwave we've been having. Ceri in particular loves summer - because she gets to play Sprinkler. When she looks out the window and sees me setting up the sprinkler (because this year I've decided I'm going to pretend we're the type of people who care about the front lawn - we'll see how long that lasts) she goes absolutely nuts. It sounds like an elephant is trying to knock down the front door. She could play in the water for hours, to the point where I'm almost afraid she might drown herself. She puts her whole mouth over the jet of water, and it sprays about a 40' radius. But I literally have to drag her away from it. It doesn't even work to turn it off, she'll just chew on the hose until more water comes out.

Chupi, on the other hand, has discovered a family of chipmunks living in a stack of pallets in our driveway. (They're decorative pallets, don't judge). He'll circle the stack for hours, peering through each level and barking whenever he sees one moving. To be honest, I'd rather they live in the pallets than where they chose to make their home last year, which was in the air filter of our Nissan. I found out when I took it in for an oil change and the tech came out and told me there was a nest in the filter, complete with mummified chipmunk. Then he asked me if I wanted a new filter. Is there really more than one answer to that question?

Anyway, the chipmunks don't seem to mind having a vicious predator lurking outside their home. In fact, I think they rather enjoy taunting him. And Chupi definitely enjoys the chase.

The first sign of summer...

Yesterday was spa day here at the farm, which is the first sign of impending summer, as far as I'm concerned. Both Shy and Woolimina got their yearly shear, and look much happier since it hit 80 degrees today. I did a little research beforehand, and discovered that this year's stylish Alpacas have opted for the Mohawk look - so of course that's the style Shy requested. He looks amazing. I'm even thinking about getting him a studded collar and some tribal tats. 

But believe it or not, new trendy hairstyles aren't even the coolest thing that's going on around here. No, that spot is reserved for my Crabitat! It came in the mail about a month ago, and I spent hours decorating it. Literally - hours. First I had to decide where in the tank to put it for optimum viewing, then came the flooring decision. After carefully considering all the options, I went with river sand, which is what they burrow into in their natural habitat. We constructed a rock grotto for when they feel like hiding, and put in some palm trees in case they're in the mood for an aerial view.

Once we got it arranged to my liking, I had to make a bunch of phone calls to track down some actual crabs to live in it. Apparently there is a world-wide Thai Devil Crab shortage (for real, several aquatics people told me no one can get them right now), so I had to settle for Fiddler crabs. Smaller and less colorful, but still plenty fun to watch. So Gene took me to the pet store, and after observing the crabs for far too long (according to Gene), I committed to two of them. Charlie and Luigi II came home in a take-out container, although Luigi II did try to initially make a break for freedom when he hopped out and took off down the aisle. Getting them into the Crabitat itself was a little disconcerting, because I had to hold them in a very loose fist, then gently shove them under the lip of the plastic dome. The way their legs skittered in my palm was a little shudder-inducing, but at least I only had to do it twice. Watching them explore the river and climb on the palm trees was great, they truly looked like happy little crabs.

Then, a couple days later, we couldn't find them anymore. Gene picked up all the hollow decorations and shook them, but the only thing he found was a very upset Plecostomus, who had been contentedly napping inside his favorite tree. I was absolutely heartbroken, and blamed the shark. Quite loudly, and with colorful language. So fast forward about a month or so, and both crabs reappeared! Apparently we bought them right before they molted. After shedding their shells, they dig a burrow and hide until their new shell hardens. Which obviously takes quite some time. So now they're back to happily skittering all over the tank, and I'm back to enjoying a show with my morning coffee.

Christmas in April...

Just like mine...

Today was a good day, for so many reasons. Gene surprised me this morning with a Blue Tooth headset, since I just got a new phone and was terrified of dropping it. (Free to upgrade, outrageously expensive to replace...) I also can't hold it up to my ear for longer than a few minutes anymore, and lord knows you need to block off some time for a conversation with Bess Bess... At any rate, now I can happily ramble around the yard while yakking on the phone, hands free! I'm still a little embarrassed to wear it out in public, and when my friend noticed it on our daily dog walk, I just sorrowfully shook my head and said, "I'm more machine than man now." And since I've gotten into the habit of bellowing "ANSWER IT" in my best Mortal Kombat voice, maybe I'll just wear it inside the house.

www.crabhomes.com

But that wasn't even the best thing. No, that came when I checked my email and discovered my latest can't-possibly-live-without acquisition is arriving via UPS tomorrow! Now that Luigi the crab has passed on, our huge tank is crabless. Normally that's a good thing to be, but in this case it's a waste of 75 gallons. When I was looking up what kind of crustacean to get next, I stumbled upon the "Underwater Atlantis", which is basically a bio-dome that creates a  dry space on the bottom of a fish tank. And the best part - it comes with a feeding tube, so you can drop live crickets in! Naturally I ordered the Cadillac model, although personally I would have called it The Crabitat. I'm already decorating it in my head...and sourcing out some occupants. Gene didn't even say no to a turtle!

And as if that wasn't enough excitement around here, I found a bird's nest when I went to plant this year's fuscia in the hanging baskets. Since we weren't positive if it was a new nest or not, I carefully took it out, potted everything, then put the nest back. It's quite a nice, festive nest, lined entirely in German Shepherd hair. (If I'd known a mama bird was in the market for some fur, I would have invited her inside to harvest our couch). At any rate, this morning when I went to carefully water the side of the basket the flowers are on, mama flew right at my face. I think I need to get a watering can with a longer spout...

Other than that, the only other magical thing that's new this week is sitting on my kitchen window sill, in the form of a couple of potted orchids from the clearance bin at the grocery (granted, it's not where all the other connoisseurs get their orchids from, but you have to start somewhere.) I got the first one a week ago, a gorgeous white one, for $3.99. On the way back we stopped and got her some proper orchid soil and a nice pot, only to get home and discover that if you re-pot them prematurely, they get "resentful". That's the exact word the Internet used. Thank goodness I looked it up first, since the last thing I need is a grumpy, ungrateful houseplant. I can't find a definitive answer for how you know they want to be re-potted, so I'm hoping they wave a sign. Then yesterday, on my way to the beer aisle, I happened to spot one last remaining orchid in the bin, now marked down to 99 cents. And if ever there was a resentful orchid... he did not look happy. But I took him home (yes, he's a guy), soaked him and his pot in some water, trimmed all the dead blossoms off, and he perked right up. I'm hoping this is my first step towards becoming an orchid farmer...

I know, I know. It's been awhile.

Four months in between posts is pretty abysmal, I admit it. But in my defense, my camera died. Surprisingly, it wasn't because I dropped it (I have now been relegated to plastic and Corelle dishes exclusively since I drop about half of what I pick up.) No, something happened to it internally, so the shutter only fired half the time, and the LCD screen shorted out. At any rate, as someone who can easily take 400 pictures a day, often of the same chicken, I was devastated by the loss. But about a month ago, Gene found a great replacement - not only does it take phenomenal pictures, it's also the lightest weight professional-level camera I've ever seen, so I can hold it for extended periods of time. To celebrate our new purchase, Gene took me to Bubba's and bought me a big bag of French fries, which we then offered up one at a time to the seagulls on the beach. He practically had to drag me away, even though I only got 712 photos.

Life on the farm, with a few exceptions, was pretty routine this winter. As usual, there were happy moments, like when I discovered a brand new greenhouse frog living in the orange tree, and heartbreaking ones, like when poor Hawthorne made the transition to a higher plane of existence with the help of a coyote. But truly, never has a turkey lived a happier, more fulfilling life. We also have further proof that Polish chickens only come in male, and have had to rename both Ms. Pepper and Mama Buffington (Dr. Pepper and Papa Buffington, respectively). 

Woolimina and Shy Shy are still the best of friends, and I'll periodically let them out into the front yard to eat the long grass. They have to be supervised though, ever since Woolimina took it upon herself to prune my Sugar Sweet cherry bushes into oblivion. Skeeter and Big Mack, our two remaining Flemish Giant rabbits, are also master pruners, to the extent that Gene is going to have to build some fences around the raised beds in the front now that planting season is just around the corner. I was weeding just this morning, and discovered they'd beaten me to the first plump, crispy asparagus spear I've ever grown, after patiently waiting three years for one to make an appearance. Not that I recognized it initially - I actually snapped it off, thinking it was a giant, partially gnawed weed. I never claimed to be an asparagus expert.

Things have been up and down in the world of indoor critters as well. Raphael the ferret passed away from some sort of brain problem, and I miss him quite a bit. But we gave him a few years pampered luxury living after rescuing him, and I'm quite sure he went to a better place, filled with blankets, plastic balls, and all the tunnels he could ever want to explore. Ceri has been diagnosed with hip dysplasia, even though she's not even four years old yet, but I'm confident we've caught it in time to be able to stall the progression. Now every Friday she gets water therapy, where she swims in a heated pool and gets a massage. She's definitely living up to her nickname of the $10,000 Dog, but she's worth every penny, even if she does hog all the pillows at night.

In aquatic news, Luigi the Thai Purple Devil Crab passed on, presumably from old age. But the cycle of life continues, in the form of a pregnant Amano shrimp we brought home from the pet store. We originally got the shrimp to help with the algae problem in the small tank, and the clerk was ecstatic when she discovered the shrimp had visible eggs. Shrimpy, as she likes to be called, was installed in her own special tank that sits on top of the 150 gallon tank in the dining room. And by "special tank", I mean glass jar whose former purpose in life was holding drinks such as lemonade and iced tea at BBQs. (Whatever, people, it washes). Unfortunately, there's quite a bit of contradictory information out there regarding the breeding of Amano shrimp (the eggs need brine! Salt water will kill the eggs!) And we must have gone the wrong route, because she no longer has eggs - plus she molted, which means she's ready to breed again, but there aren't any baby shrimp in the jar. So now Shrimpy is back with the boys, and I'm stuck with a jar full of baby snails of utterly unknown origin. They either came in with Shrimpy's water, or Shrimpy has alternative views on dating and we're now the proud parents of about 50 shrails. Right now they're about the size of a speck of dust, so time will tell. 

Every day is a bad hair day...

The rains have come in earnest. I shouldn't complain - after all, it was a relatively dry October, but still. Weeks of unseasonably gorgeous fall weather don't make up for the fact that now I'm sinking up to mid-shin in mud when I slog outside to do the chores. I've set up several dry spots for the chickens, which they love. They can explore under the trellises in the garden, which is rapidly disappearing thanks to Woolimina. She even ate the last of my Trinidad Scorpion plant. And all my cotton (before I got to harvest it - no apocalypse Q-Tips for us, I guess. And I was really looking forward to being self-reliant in the Q-Tip department.) But anyway, most of the chickens are smart enough to get undercover in the rain. But Polish chickens aren't most chickens. They're spectacularly dumb. Like fall in the duck pond because they don't realize it's water dumb. (On a side note, who knew chickens could swim? I actually had to chase her through the water before I could pull her out, she was having a blast.)

When I need a break from the rain, I go inside the greenhouse. It's warm, the sound of rain pattering on the roof is relaxing, and I'm quickly becoming obsessed with watching the mantises hunt flies. The way their triangular heads sway back and forth as they calculate the striking distance is nothing short of mesmerizing. And incredibly effective - there's hardly any flies left in the greenhouse anymore. I might have to go back to buying crickets at the pet store and letting them loose in the greenhouse, like I did two years ago to feed Gertrude. At least I won't have to chuck the crickets at a web - that was disturbing on so many levels.

On that note, you would think that the spider kingdom in general would give me a little credit for feeding one of their own for two months during the freezing cold winter. Gertrude didn't lose any weight under my watch, so you would think they would stay out of my dreams. I know a few posts ago I bragged about conquering my arachnid nightmares, but you know what they say about pride.... This time when I had the dream, the spiders were infesting my bed. That's low, spiders. Even for you. And Gene didn't appreciate getting woken up like that, even if there were real spiders crawling on him.

Finally, an egg sac to call my own!

Finally my hopes and dreams of having a mantis farm have been realized. No longer will I have to wait in line at the garden store with everybody else to get my own praying mantis larva. Thanks to Jasmine, I have an egg sac of my very own just waiting to hatch next May on one of my citrus trees! I haven't seen her in a while but I like to think she left behind her legacy in the form of 500 little mantis eggs.

Speaking of things that leave eggs sacs in their wake, I've definitely grown in terms of my relationship with 8-legged beasties. Thanks to all of them peacefully living in my garden, I've completely conquered my fear of spiders. Even if they're on me. (Sadly, the same cannot be said for Bess Bess. When she was here last, she moved a bag of potting soil for me, and came away with a fat black passenger clinging to the leg of her capris. My ears are still ringing.) The other night, I had that stupid stress dream where I'm in a room full of spider webs, all occupied, of course. In the dream, I have to get out, but of course there's no clear path, no matter how much I crawl and contort. So how do I know I'm officially not afraid of them anymore?  In the dream, I looked at all those plump beasties, then shrugged, and said, "Eh, they're not that big." Then I just walked out. Now I'm not the type that believes you can consciously control dreams (if I could, you better believe 80s MacGyver would have saved me), so dream Andie gets all the credit for that one. I bet I never have that nightmare again. 
 

The air is burning!

With great excitement and a thick pair of surgical gloves, I harvested my first batch of Trinidad Scorpions and Ghost Peppers. I ever so gently washed and dried them, then arranged them in the dehydrator with the more mundane cayenne peppers. I quickly researched the drying process on the internet, and concluded that our kitchen was large enough that dehydrating the peppers inside wasn't going to be an issue. The article advised opening a window and turning on a fan, but it was cold out and I'm lazy like that. Besides, billowing clouds of distilled pepper evilness only happen in other people's kitchens, not mine. And I was right, for about five minutes. Then I couldn't get the windows open fast enough, and Gene resorted to lugging the entire dehydrator outside while holding his breath. But the important thing was it worked, and after a few hours passed we could use that part of the house again.

Watery eyes and hacking coughs aside, though, I'm getting pretty irked about the whole hottest pepper on the planet thing. I came across disturbing news online, news involving the Carolina Reaper. It's potentially hotter than the Trinidad Scorpion, pending test results. Which means I might not have grown the hottest pepper on the planet, and have fallen short of my goal yet again. But there's always next year!

In other news, all the critters seem to be adjusting well to the changing weather. Mack and Skeeter have their favorite rainy day hiding spots carved out, and come bounding out of the woods whenever they see me to beg for a Wheat Thin. They aren't quite big enough to scare the chickens yet, so most of the time they lose their treat to a questing beak or two. I have to herd them into the Ranch and give them a cracker pile to console their hurt feelings and let them snack in peace. Unfortunately I haven't seen Harvey in far too long, so I'm starting to fear the worst. He's getting up there in age, and we've been having coyote problems. I haven't given up hope though, there will always be a special place in my heart for that crazy bunny.

It's almost time to open the garden up to the chickens, and the bunnies should love that as well. I've harvested just about everything there is to pick, and it's starting to become overrun by spiders. I try to let them do their thing, but some of them spin their webs right across the entrance path and I have no choice. The other day, I was in a particularly live and let live mood, so I bent and twisted and scrambled around several webs, each with a plump inhabitant smack in the middle of it. When I got through the tunnel, I turned around to look behind me, and I just about fell over. It was one of those "I can't believe I just walked through that" moments, all gloriously highlighted by the sun. There were so many of them I called Gene on my cell phone and asked him to bring me a stick to clear a path back. Shudder.