My daughter said that they are anticipating schools to be closed Tuesday and Wednesday, high winds and ice predicted. Forecast here, about 150 miles north of her, is for up to 24 inches of snow, winds up to 40 mph. It's kind of hard to believe. Sky has been sunny most of the day, and it is in the high 20s - too warm for that ice they are predicting here as well. I put a heat lamp out in the Moop, just in case the storm develops into the worst case scenario.
The girls are having to deal with a light coming on in the morning about 6 a.m., and not going out until 8 p.m. So far, I haven't seen any dramatic improvement in egg production. In fact, I am supposed to deliver two dozen eggs, and there are only 13 eggs in the fridge. They had better get cracking! I need to take a dozen with me to market tomorrow, and one of the shareholders is picking up milk early in anticipation of the storm. So I will need another dozen for her at about 4 pm. Well, I will have what I will have. I do not know how to lay eggs.
This has been a rough winter. I have always enjoyed snow, but except for a few days before the New Year and another few days in late November or early December, the ground has been white - solid white - only an errant weed sticking out of the snow here and there.
Spring is looking pretty good right now. There are onions growing in the atrium, as well as a huge tub of lettuces. I am ready to go out to the greenhouse for a little sunbathing on the next sunny day. I have to do something to get past the winter blues!
I will keep you posted on the storm. Plenty of firewood cut, and the freezers, fridges and cupboards are all well stocked. I should be able to weather the storm quite well.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Were the chickens safe???
Last night was Purple Porch, and I delivered my wares to the distribution point. It was a gloomy day, and that means the chickens will go to roost early. Androo was milking, and I asked him to check when he was done to see if the chickens were in. If they were, then please button up the Moop for the night. I didn't ask him to call me, but was pretty sure that they would be inside before he left the place.
My customers all picked up early. I was sitting there knitting, and suddenly I just got a feeling. I broke down my display and headed out about 45 minutes early. As I headed up the drive (by then it was totally dark), I saw a fox. They like chickens. He was down by the road, but nevertheless it made me very uneasy.
I swung the car over by the Moop when I got near the house, something I usually don't do when there is snow on the ground, but by now I was very worried. The door was up. Androo must have finished milking early. I trotted through the snow to the door and was so very relieved to see everyone lined up on the roosts. They were done clucking and cooing; it was dark and they were asleep! No chicken feathers scattered about. All chickies accounted for.
Would the fox have made it to the Moop if I hadn't gotten home when I did? I will never know.
I put their feed troughs inside and gently lowered the door, giving thanks to the powers that be that my chickens were safe.
My customers all picked up early. I was sitting there knitting, and suddenly I just got a feeling. I broke down my display and headed out about 45 minutes early. As I headed up the drive (by then it was totally dark), I saw a fox. They like chickens. He was down by the road, but nevertheless it made me very uneasy.
I swung the car over by the Moop when I got near the house, something I usually don't do when there is snow on the ground, but by now I was very worried. The door was up. Androo must have finished milking early. I trotted through the snow to the door and was so very relieved to see everyone lined up on the roosts. They were done clucking and cooing; it was dark and they were asleep! No chicken feathers scattered about. All chickies accounted for.
Would the fox have made it to the Moop if I hadn't gotten home when I did? I will never know.
I put their feed troughs inside and gently lowered the door, giving thanks to the powers that be that my chickens were safe.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Sleep, wonderful sleep
For years, I probably averaged about four hours of sleep a night, and just thought it was my metabolism. Sometimes I would take long Sunday naps, and I figured that was my "catch-up" time.
The corporate world is often hard on one's sleep - many things to worry about. I had rough jobs the last few years I was there. In the corporate world, you have little or no control over your fate. You are at the beck and call of the whims of the latest boss, and I watched people scramble to follow the new rules of engagement with every change in leadership. For me, being something of a control freak, that world did not contribute to restful nights.
When I finally got to do my own thing, when I retired from that world and started my little booth at the farmers market, I thought all would be well. Although taking two months off after leaving my sales job, I still suffered from insomnia and seldom slept more than five or six hours.
It has been over eight years now that I have been the master of my own world. Little by little, I managed to burden myself with a second booth at the market, a huge expansion in product line, and then of course, let's bring some cows down here, and get some chickens. And why not become certified organic? I saw my time shrink, and I realized that I was lying awake thinking about cows instead of airplane wheels and brakes. Bottom line, I wasn't sleeping very well again.
Enter Kayla, my assistant. I am starting to realize just how ridiculous it was to think I could do it all. Kayla is working only 20 to 30 hours a week right now, because she is also milking for the Milk Association, giving the other milkers a much needed break. But even 20 hours is a big load off. My house looks decent, and all of the baskets and boxes on my counter at the market are filled with product. And I have some time off!
Sunday I did nothing except a few chores - maybe an hour's worth - and worked on a small problem with the milking system - another hour. The rest of the day I was lazy. A couple of naps, watched Da Bears win, read a little, ate well. And I slept again that night, all night. And again last night, a good night's sleep, nearly eight hours!
Being too tired to sleep is no joke. I should know - I was there for more years than I care to remember.
Well, time to hit that paperwork again. My next objective is a clean desk. :)
The corporate world is often hard on one's sleep - many things to worry about. I had rough jobs the last few years I was there. In the corporate world, you have little or no control over your fate. You are at the beck and call of the whims of the latest boss, and I watched people scramble to follow the new rules of engagement with every change in leadership. For me, being something of a control freak, that world did not contribute to restful nights.
When I finally got to do my own thing, when I retired from that world and started my little booth at the farmers market, I thought all would be well. Although taking two months off after leaving my sales job, I still suffered from insomnia and seldom slept more than five or six hours.
It has been over eight years now that I have been the master of my own world. Little by little, I managed to burden myself with a second booth at the market, a huge expansion in product line, and then of course, let's bring some cows down here, and get some chickens. And why not become certified organic? I saw my time shrink, and I realized that I was lying awake thinking about cows instead of airplane wheels and brakes. Bottom line, I wasn't sleeping very well again.
Enter Kayla, my assistant. I am starting to realize just how ridiculous it was to think I could do it all. Kayla is working only 20 to 30 hours a week right now, because she is also milking for the Milk Association, giving the other milkers a much needed break. But even 20 hours is a big load off. My house looks decent, and all of the baskets and boxes on my counter at the market are filled with product. And I have some time off!
Sunday I did nothing except a few chores - maybe an hour's worth - and worked on a small problem with the milking system - another hour. The rest of the day I was lazy. A couple of naps, watched Da Bears win, read a little, ate well. And I slept again that night, all night. And again last night, a good night's sleep, nearly eight hours!
Being too tired to sleep is no joke. I should know - I was there for more years than I care to remember.
Well, time to hit that paperwork again. My next objective is a clean desk. :)
Friday, January 14, 2011
Finally - some eggs to sell!
While I am still paying off the people who helped build the Moop for me with free eggs, I am getting about a dozen a day and have started selling some. It is nice to have a few pennies in my pocket to begin to defray the investment in my poultry business.
I shudder to think how much I have spent to get this flock going, and how many chicks I bought to get to my current flock. I was also given nine "hens." It seems three of those are most definitely roosters, and I know they need to go into the pot. Once the weather warms up and they get frisky, it will be a disaster to have five roosters here.
I have reconciled myself to knowing (and having kissed) the bearer of the beef in my freezer. But the chickens - I have gotten to love the little critters so much. In fact, I find myself eating poultry less often. When I go through the subject matter of my blogs, it is the chickens who reign supreme. Maybe it is because they talk to me. I am a very verbal person, and I talk back to them. I go out there three times a day - in the morning to let them out, at which time the boys are crowing even on the dullest day. They are all quite excited to be breaking their fast. Mmmm!! Three troughs full of fresh chicken feed!! Mmmm!! Fresh water!! So much clucking and scurrying about.
In the early afternoon, I go out and pick up eggs (have to take an egg carton with me now, too many for pockets). They seem to be telling me how they've been spending their day. With snow on the ground, they will be hanging around the Moop, although those Campines are often in the woods seeing what they can find. They are great little foragers, and are noted for being one of the best feed-to-egg converters out there. I check their food and switch out their waterers. I'll bring in the one they have been working on to fill with fresh water when I go out for the third time - to button them up for the night.
At night, the conversation is completely different. They go from chattering to cooing, such soft little sounds. One of the Buff Orpingtons that was a gift is rather mean. She yells at me, and if I get close, I'm in for a peck or two. She is often sitting on the bar that has to go up to keep them from going into the nests at night, and moving her is a trial. But I put up with her. She is one of my girls.
I always sing a short song to them before putting down the lid on the back of the Moop. No matter how much clucking or cooing was going on, when I start to sing there is total silence. Then I slowly lower the lid, call out "Good night" and call it a day.
Joel Salatin of Polyface Farms says that every house should have a chicken coop attached with a couple of chickens. I agree. It's the road to world peace.
I shudder to think how much I have spent to get this flock going, and how many chicks I bought to get to my current flock. I was also given nine "hens." It seems three of those are most definitely roosters, and I know they need to go into the pot. Once the weather warms up and they get frisky, it will be a disaster to have five roosters here.
I have reconciled myself to knowing (and having kissed) the bearer of the beef in my freezer. But the chickens - I have gotten to love the little critters so much. In fact, I find myself eating poultry less often. When I go through the subject matter of my blogs, it is the chickens who reign supreme. Maybe it is because they talk to me. I am a very verbal person, and I talk back to them. I go out there three times a day - in the morning to let them out, at which time the boys are crowing even on the dullest day. They are all quite excited to be breaking their fast. Mmmm!! Three troughs full of fresh chicken feed!! Mmmm!! Fresh water!! So much clucking and scurrying about.
In the early afternoon, I go out and pick up eggs (have to take an egg carton with me now, too many for pockets). They seem to be telling me how they've been spending their day. With snow on the ground, they will be hanging around the Moop, although those Campines are often in the woods seeing what they can find. They are great little foragers, and are noted for being one of the best feed-to-egg converters out there. I check their food and switch out their waterers. I'll bring in the one they have been working on to fill with fresh water when I go out for the third time - to button them up for the night.
At night, the conversation is completely different. They go from chattering to cooing, such soft little sounds. One of the Buff Orpingtons that was a gift is rather mean. She yells at me, and if I get close, I'm in for a peck or two. She is often sitting on the bar that has to go up to keep them from going into the nests at night, and moving her is a trial. But I put up with her. She is one of my girls.
I always sing a short song to them before putting down the lid on the back of the Moop. No matter how much clucking or cooing was going on, when I start to sing there is total silence. Then I slowly lower the lid, call out "Good night" and call it a day.
Joel Salatin of Polyface Farms says that every house should have a chicken coop attached with a couple of chickens. I agree. It's the road to world peace.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Now you see 'em, now you don't
I used to count the chickens every night, and I mourned when one was missing. Sometimes the errant bird showed up, sometimes not. I started with 26 chickens, and by the time the new chicks arrived this year, I only had nine of them left - one rooster and eight layers.
I had losses from this year's chicks. The hatchery replaced ten of them. By the time I took them out to the Moop to join the other chickens, there were a total of 54, two roosters and 52 layers or pullets.
I haven't counted in quite some time. Too many of them, and so heartbreaking when the number isn't right. We lost one to a hawk, and second one didn't make it into the Moop on a cold night. I found her body in the snow outside the pen. Both were Campines, my favorites. So now we keep a bit of hay under the Moop and make sure the gate is open at night, just in case some errant girl is out and about at sunset when I close the lid on the Moop.
About a week ago, I did a count, flashlight in hand. There should have been 52. I counted only 47, so that meant I had lost another five at some point. No bodies were found lying around, so I could only imagine that a critter dragged them off.
Last night, I bravely decided to do another count, even though I knew I would be very depressed if the number was less than 47. There were 52! The Buckeyes are solid dark brown and tend to bunch on the floor in corners. I am assuming I just did a terrible job of counting last week. My heart soared to know that all of the cluckers were still there!
I am in love with these chickens. But you knew that. :)
I had losses from this year's chicks. The hatchery replaced ten of them. By the time I took them out to the Moop to join the other chickens, there were a total of 54, two roosters and 52 layers or pullets.
I haven't counted in quite some time. Too many of them, and so heartbreaking when the number isn't right. We lost one to a hawk, and second one didn't make it into the Moop on a cold night. I found her body in the snow outside the pen. Both were Campines, my favorites. So now we keep a bit of hay under the Moop and make sure the gate is open at night, just in case some errant girl is out and about at sunset when I close the lid on the Moop.
About a week ago, I did a count, flashlight in hand. There should have been 52. I counted only 47, so that meant I had lost another five at some point. No bodies were found lying around, so I could only imagine that a critter dragged them off.
Last night, I bravely decided to do another count, even though I knew I would be very depressed if the number was less than 47. There were 52! The Buckeyes are solid dark brown and tend to bunch on the floor in corners. I am assuming I just did a terrible job of counting last week. My heart soared to know that all of the cluckers were still there!
I am in love with these chickens. But you knew that. :)
Sam
One Saturday morning, as I went out to feed the cows in the dark before leaving for market, I noticed Sam was lying down. He was usually right there at the head of the line for breakfast. It's a good thing there was a bright moon, or I would have missed seeing him.
Sam wouldn't get up. He had foam coming out of his mouth. His head was off the ground, but I was very worried. I gave him a bucket of water, but he only drank about half of it. I called one of the other milkers on my way to market and asked him to stop by and check on Sam later in the morning. He told me that Sam was up and about at 10:00 a.m., but that he only drank about a half bucket of water.
I also called the vet, Mat. He said to keep an eye on him and he would stop by on Monday morning if he wasn't any better. He thought it might be metal disease, and he told me what to do in the meantime. Bovines love to munch on bits of metal. It is imperative that we do not leave any metal lying around. But occasionally I find a small piece of wire or a fencing hook lying in the pasture. It happens, no matter how careful we all are. Mat suggested that I put a magnet down him. Any loose metal will stick to the magnet instead of migrating to the heart, where it can be fatal. Unfortunately, Sean, my 10 year old visitor who had lived at the farm for a month, had found the plastic pill pusher to be an interesting toy. I saw him with it one day and should have taken it from him, but thought he would put it back when his curiosity was satisfied. It was nowhere to be found, and when I contacted Roy, he said Sean had no memory of it. Sigh . . .
So I headed out for the farm store for a new pill pusher and a magnet. Only one pill pusher on the shelf, and it had a broken handle. No magnets, either. After calling around to three vets, I finally found one who had both. So off I went to another town, about ten miles away. The pill pusher cost four times what it had at the farm store, but I had no choice. I went home and got the magnet down Sam's throat and hoped for the best.
Sam wasn't getting any better. Mat thought it might be that Sam had been getting too much balage, so I put him in with the calves where he would get a diet of dry hay only. Still, he wasn't any better. At one point, the vet warned me that he might not make it. Mat thought it might be constipation, and I tried to get mineral oil down him, but he didn't find it tasty. In fact, he was drinking very little water and was becoming noticeably thinner. So Mat came out. He hoped it was an impacted second stomach, which would cause him pain when he tried to drink or eat and would explain his weight loss. Of all of the options, it was the best and the easiest to treat. We would force feed him a couple of quarts of mineral oil in a few gallons of warm water.
My granddaughter, the medical student, was living with me at the time, and she came out to the barn to watch. Mat held Sam's head and put a tube down his throat, making sure he got into the right stomach. He ascertained it was the correct one by smelling the gas that came out of the tube - different stomachs have different odors. (Sure hope you are not eating breakfast while you are reading this.) While he held Sam's head, I began to pour mineral oil and warm water down the tube. Four and a half gallons of it, to be precise. Poor Sam! There was a lot of belching and it wasn't pleasant! At last the job was done.
Kate said she had to get ready for work at the clinic where she was doing her family practice round. As she left the barn, I asked her if she would like to be a vet. She answered, "No way!"
Sam's health improved daily. I left him with the calves until I was sure that he was eating and drinking. There were no more episodes of foaming from the mouth. It was amazing how quickly he started putting on some weight.
Finally it was time for him to go back with the cows. He was a bit indignant. A few of the cows are quite capable of pushing him aside at feeding time, but the calves were no match for the big guy. He had thoroughly enjoyed the extra attention and extra hay that he got while living with the calves.
I am so happy that Sam made it. He is such a sweetie, and I hope to have him around for a long time.
Sam wouldn't get up. He had foam coming out of his mouth. His head was off the ground, but I was very worried. I gave him a bucket of water, but he only drank about half of it. I called one of the other milkers on my way to market and asked him to stop by and check on Sam later in the morning. He told me that Sam was up and about at 10:00 a.m., but that he only drank about a half bucket of water.
I also called the vet, Mat. He said to keep an eye on him and he would stop by on Monday morning if he wasn't any better. He thought it might be metal disease, and he told me what to do in the meantime. Bovines love to munch on bits of metal. It is imperative that we do not leave any metal lying around. But occasionally I find a small piece of wire or a fencing hook lying in the pasture. It happens, no matter how careful we all are. Mat suggested that I put a magnet down him. Any loose metal will stick to the magnet instead of migrating to the heart, where it can be fatal. Unfortunately, Sean, my 10 year old visitor who had lived at the farm for a month, had found the plastic pill pusher to be an interesting toy. I saw him with it one day and should have taken it from him, but thought he would put it back when his curiosity was satisfied. It was nowhere to be found, and when I contacted Roy, he said Sean had no memory of it. Sigh . . .
So I headed out for the farm store for a new pill pusher and a magnet. Only one pill pusher on the shelf, and it had a broken handle. No magnets, either. After calling around to three vets, I finally found one who had both. So off I went to another town, about ten miles away. The pill pusher cost four times what it had at the farm store, but I had no choice. I went home and got the magnet down Sam's throat and hoped for the best.
Sam wasn't getting any better. Mat thought it might be that Sam had been getting too much balage, so I put him in with the calves where he would get a diet of dry hay only. Still, he wasn't any better. At one point, the vet warned me that he might not make it. Mat thought it might be constipation, and I tried to get mineral oil down him, but he didn't find it tasty. In fact, he was drinking very little water and was becoming noticeably thinner. So Mat came out. He hoped it was an impacted second stomach, which would cause him pain when he tried to drink or eat and would explain his weight loss. Of all of the options, it was the best and the easiest to treat. We would force feed him a couple of quarts of mineral oil in a few gallons of warm water.
My granddaughter, the medical student, was living with me at the time, and she came out to the barn to watch. Mat held Sam's head and put a tube down his throat, making sure he got into the right stomach. He ascertained it was the correct one by smelling the gas that came out of the tube - different stomachs have different odors. (Sure hope you are not eating breakfast while you are reading this.) While he held Sam's head, I began to pour mineral oil and warm water down the tube. Four and a half gallons of it, to be precise. Poor Sam! There was a lot of belching and it wasn't pleasant! At last the job was done.
Kate said she had to get ready for work at the clinic where she was doing her family practice round. As she left the barn, I asked her if she would like to be a vet. She answered, "No way!"
Sam's health improved daily. I left him with the calves until I was sure that he was eating and drinking. There were no more episodes of foaming from the mouth. It was amazing how quickly he started putting on some weight.
Finally it was time for him to go back with the cows. He was a bit indignant. A few of the cows are quite capable of pushing him aside at feeding time, but the calves were no match for the big guy. He had thoroughly enjoyed the extra attention and extra hay that he got while living with the calves.
I am so happy that Sam made it. He is such a sweetie, and I hope to have him around for a long time.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Deal of the day
Ah! Mother Overstock offered me 20% off today! For those of you who are confused by this, read yesterday's blog.
I figure by January 1, she is going to pay me to take a coat.
I figure by January 1, she is going to pay me to take a coat.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)