December 3, 2012
During the summer one of my barred rock hens was beaten up by the rooster. She had a few gashes in her head and along her back. I found her by the strawberry patch and thought she may not make it, but she surprised me by stepping in front of me, looking as if to say, “Will you help me?” I nursed her back to health, her comb is now bright red and her feathers are thick. She is completely recovered other than being blind now in one eye. Anytime danger comes her way she runs to me and I will pick her up. Long story short I separated her and her twin sister who is also disliked by the rooster Captain Jack and put them in their own coop.
When the turkeys came along we tried to put them in with the two henny pennys, but the girls were not happy with their new house guests. Unfortunately it was the only coop with a fence to keep the turkeys confined until they became accustomed to their new surroundings. Since the hens were less than gracious hosts they had to be put back in the main coop until we could build another. Everyday the one eyed henny would stand outside the fence and look wistfully at her old home, wondering why these long legged birds had displaced her.
A few nights ago as evening fell we went to close up the coops and found that the back of the now turkey coop had been opened. The turkeys had escaped and decided to roost on top of the pole barn. We have no idea how the back hatch opened up, but the turkeys have never returned and choose to roost with the guineas or chickens.
Today I put the blind hen back in her home. She strutted around the pen, taking a bite of food and a sip of water before entering the house. She perused the inside with her one good eye then fluffed her feathers as if to say, “this place needs a good cleaning.” Of course I cleaned it for her, scraping and sweeping out the old turkey poop and putting down fresh hay. Later we brought her sister in to keep her company.
Sonny built them a new feeding station with a roof to keep their food dry and clean. I don’t think there could be two happier henny pennys and I’m almost sure I heard a sigh of grateful satisfaction as we closed the hatch tonight. All is right with the world for these two girls tonight. Content once again in their home sweet home.
New feeding station.
June 11, 2012
My sister Janice and her husband Rick came for a visit this weekend and we all had a wonderful time. Once again its hay season, so Sonny and Rick helped John put up bales of hay. Its a busy time here in the country and its about to ratchet up another notch as soon as the garden is ready to harvest. There are already wild black raspberries coming into season and that means its time to pull out the jelly jars, lids and bands. The buckets are sitting on standby and Janice and I have already picked a few ripe juicy ones that sweetened our taste buds.
Sonny recruited Janice as his bee keeper assistant. Suited up in bee gear she smoked the bees while he checked for honey. The wooden frames covered in wax were full and ready to be harvested. Liquid gold filled each pocket of honey comb.
Sonny scraped the frames then we squeezed out the honey through a sieve and then filtered out any remaining debris.
Scraping off the honey.
We harvested a little over two quarts. The bees have been busy collecting pollen from the clover and wildflowers that grow in abundance here at the farm. Our honey has all the sweet flavors of these fragrant wild flowers and is a light golden hue.
This is a small batch and most of our honey will be distributed to family members but we may be able to keep aside a few ounces if anyone is interested in purchasing a sample. You can leave a comment or email.
Our plan is to order some more bees and start another hive. Hopefully we will have plenty of honey next year.
December 30, 2011
I may carry a pocket knife, but I’m still a lady. I had told Sonny that I fancied a pocket knife and how handy it would be to have one. Being the good husband that he is, he presented one to me as a Christmas gift. Its just the right size and is made by the Case company. They have been making all types of knives since 1889 and I also like the fact that they are still produced in the good ol’ USA.
My trusty pocket knife.
When you think about what a lady might carry in her pocket you wouldn’t think of a knife as being one of those objects. Chapstick or lipstick maybe but not a knife. Since moving out here I’ve encountered numerous occasions that a pocket knife would’ve come in handy. I don’t how many times I have been working outside and needed to cut the string from a bale of straw, twine to tie up the tomatoes, or cut open a bag of grain. Whatever the job I’m doing I have to stop and run up to the house to retrieve a knife or pair of scissors, because naturally I forgot to grab one before I started. It will also be a convenient tool this spring when I come across a thatch of wildflowers I might want to cut or a vine of briar thorns that grab hold of my shirt.
I have already put this pocket knife to use many times and I have come to the conclusion that I would be lost without one now. It has become a down right necessity. Every morning when I get dressed I automatically shove it down into my pocket where it nestles perfectly….right next to a tube of chap stick.
As I write this John and Sonny are busy working on the solar hot water heater. They have all the pipes hooked up to the solar panels on the roof and are in the process of connecting them up to the hot water heater. Sonny will give you an update soon. And of course if you have any questions he will be happy to answer them.
December 16, 2011
I watched a show on TV one time where a person went to visit Martha Stewart’s farm. I sat there in awe as they walked through the horse barn. It was immaculate and the spokes person raved that it smelled of lemons. I would love for my chicken coop to smell of lemons when I open the door in the morning. Unfortunately it smells like chicken poop and if I stand too close to the door as the hens hustle out I just might get a little poop/mud cocktail flung in my direction.
I keep the hen house clean but I doubt that it would pass Martha’s inspection. We live in real life. Farming is dirty and smelly. It is blisters, sweat, and dirt caked under your nails. It is nights of soar muscles, with a glass of water and two tylenol for a nightcap.
Whenever John and Carol go out of town I take care of their donkeys, two goats, dog and abundant barn cats. Their barn doesn’t smell of lemons and it isn’t immaculate. It smells of hay and donkey sweat with a hint of manure. I love how it all feels. The vibrancy and excitement of the animals anticipating their feed, then the quiet and calm as all are fed. Its a soothing balm for the soul, that grinding chewing pastoral chant and occasional snort from the donkeys.
As far as the garden goes, it lies dormant in winters sleep with a covering of donkey manure. Life here has slowed down a bit too, but the animals still need daily care. Maybe next year we will have a few goats or meat rabbits to add to our twenty-one roaming chickens, three cats and dog.
We may not have a Martha Stewart farm set in perfection, but I can tell you that when I step out and look across our little farmstead, my heart grows two sizes. My feet are growing roots right along with the blackberry bushes and grapes. No offense Martha, but you can keep your farmisneyland, we’ll keep reality.
November 30, 2011
Guess I'll have to eat my way out!
Yesterday as we headed out to town, Sonny and I saw this calf belonging to a neighboring farm and just had to stop to take a pic. Hours later when we drove back by he was still eating, but this time he was on the outside.
June 29, 2010
June is typically the early cut month where many in the East start bailing hay. We will be back in September for the second cut. Some make square bails and other do rolls. John raised miniature donkeys so square bails suit him. They typically stock about 500 or so in his loft to make it through the fall and winter each year. I think the trailer handled about 75 bails stacked on it.
On Tuesday he cut the hay field and afterwards there were several good sunny days for curing. John went out a couple of mornings when the dew was clear to ted for even better drying. Then on Thursday he changed out the tedder on his Ford tractor for the rake and about 2pm got to the field and started raking his windrows in the field. On Friday morning the tractor was ready to go with the bailer hooked up, by mid-day John was making rows. Linda and I showed up mid afternoon to give him a hand. Now with the rows cured and ready to go, John got busy.
Linda and I grabbed John’s other tractor that was already connected to the car trailer and we started stacking the bails from the fields. While Linda and I got started loading the bails on the trailer, we noticed John and Carol on the far side of the field behind the bailer. Seemed the twine broke several times and the knotting thingy (a technical term) was hung up.
Using pliers, a knife and a couple dozen bad words they got it fixed up and were back to bailing. After a couple of trips to the barn we got the hay in the loft we were finished.
John worked me until I was exhausted. I was toast. I quickly gained a new respect for what John and the farmer goes through. I thought to myself…this was just hay today. Thinking back I think John still had plenty of gas left in him.
Insert Technical term here