Tonight I brought back three coolers full of tilapia. They are voracious eaters of pond scum and algae, and are also bottom feeders. I fully expect these 60 fish to do a number on the pond this year.
I was supposed to get 125, but there was a problem with that hatch, so the breeder gave me 10 leftover one pounders from an earlier hatch and about 60 fingerlings. He assured me that I will be amazed at how much they can eat. $40 for the lot of them. My neighbor told me another option is to dredge my pond. It is nearly an acre and a half and was originally 14 feet deep in the middle. Only $75,000 to dredge it. Hmmmmmmm. $40 or $75,000. Not a hard choice to make. I will give the tilapia a chance to do their thing.
Well, off to bed. Another big day tomorrow. Androo and I will put in the last of the herbs, then Allen and I are going to start going through the garage. The eight cubic yard dumpster that I rented for two weeks is getting very full indeed!
I am really in a clean up and clean out mode. The barn is done, my closet and bathroom are both done and now the fish are taking care of the pond. Little by little, this place is shaping up.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Another emergency in the milk room
It's 10:30, and I'm just now coming in. Another long day.
Tonight Leifschon called me to tell me that the vacuum pump wasn't working right. Thank goodness she was on the last wash cycle. We have been very lucky. Only once has it failed BEFORE we were done milking. But it is still a hassle.
She called Kent and he came right over. He is so good to us. And he is so good at fixing things. I sat on a box listening to the pump try to work and made plans for how I would handle being without a pump tomorrow morning. I would call the dealer in Ligonier, get the new pump to the barn in the morning, skip morning milking. The two older calves would be fine. They are only two weeks from being weaned anyway, but the two little ones would have to be fed. I have enough milk in my fridge to take care of the heifer. We are feeding the bull with non-organic milk from Steve, since he is going to the sale barn on Friday and doesn't have to maintain his organic status. So feeding the little calves would be taken care of even if I couldn't milk in the morning.
Okay, I had everything covered. (Oops, there was that awful sound again as Kent tried the motor . . .) And then Leifschon said, "Good luck trying to keep Blossom and Caramel away while you feed Delaney and the bull calf." She had a point.
I said, "Do you mind hanging around to help me move the calves to the nursing pen?" It has two sections, so I would be able to keep the big calves from the little ones while I fed them. She was more than happy to help, and it went pretty well with two of us.
About that time, I heard the vacuum pump running smoothly. Music to my ears! Kent had worked his magic once again.
He said there was a buildup of dirt in the vacuum line, that there should have been a filter installed at one point in the line. He showed me where the dirt was getting in. I don't know these things. Guess I should have spent more time examining drawings of the mechanical end of a dairy barn instead of focusing on the layout of the milk room and the milking parlor. Live and learn, hey?
Kent will be back tomorrow to finish up the job so that the line stays clean. But for now, we are up and running yet again. A little duct tape was involved in tonight's fix. ;-)
Tonight Leifschon called me to tell me that the vacuum pump wasn't working right. Thank goodness she was on the last wash cycle. We have been very lucky. Only once has it failed BEFORE we were done milking. But it is still a hassle.
She called Kent and he came right over. He is so good to us. And he is so good at fixing things. I sat on a box listening to the pump try to work and made plans for how I would handle being without a pump tomorrow morning. I would call the dealer in Ligonier, get the new pump to the barn in the morning, skip morning milking. The two older calves would be fine. They are only two weeks from being weaned anyway, but the two little ones would have to be fed. I have enough milk in my fridge to take care of the heifer. We are feeding the bull with non-organic milk from Steve, since he is going to the sale barn on Friday and doesn't have to maintain his organic status. So feeding the little calves would be taken care of even if I couldn't milk in the morning.
Okay, I had everything covered. (Oops, there was that awful sound again as Kent tried the motor . . .) And then Leifschon said, "Good luck trying to keep Blossom and Caramel away while you feed Delaney and the bull calf." She had a point.
I said, "Do you mind hanging around to help me move the calves to the nursing pen?" It has two sections, so I would be able to keep the big calves from the little ones while I fed them. She was more than happy to help, and it went pretty well with two of us.
About that time, I heard the vacuum pump running smoothly. Music to my ears! Kent had worked his magic once again.
He said there was a buildup of dirt in the vacuum line, that there should have been a filter installed at one point in the line. He showed me where the dirt was getting in. I don't know these things. Guess I should have spent more time examining drawings of the mechanical end of a dairy barn instead of focusing on the layout of the milk room and the milking parlor. Live and learn, hey?
Kent will be back tomorrow to finish up the job so that the line stays clean. But for now, we are up and running yet again. A little duct tape was involved in tonight's fix. ;-)
Thursday, June 24, 2010
It was my fault.
Yesterday afternoon, I realized that there was a bone just a few feet from where my hen died. I am quite sure she was killed by Tashi, and I am quite sure it was over a bone. I threw some raw bones out to the dogs in one part of the yard, for the chickens in another. That was very foolish. The chickens didn't stay put. I'm sure the one that was killed decided to have a little of Tashi's bone. Tashi doesn't share.
It was my fault. I didn't think things through before I tossed out the bones.
Now there are nine . . .
It was my fault. I didn't think things through before I tossed out the bones.
Now there are nine . . .
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Tashi
I have lost two chickens in the past two weeks. This latest one was lying in the drive. I fear that Tashi is at it again. The shock collar is on her. This makes me so sad . . .
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Campines and their laying habits
You have heard me railing about the dearth of eggs lately. There are a lot of reasons - it's hot, a critter was stealing them and eating them, and they lay them wherever they want. I found 13 of them in a flower bed. They spend a lot of time in two little copses south of the house, and if I were willing to tramp through the underbrush, I'm pretty sure I would find some in both of them. However, the thing that blows me away is that sometimes I find them on the ground - a single egg under the bird feeder, an egg in the grass ten feet from the door to the Moop, an egg in the lawn between the house and the Moop. What is this? I've never heard of such a thing.
I thought maybe I was doing something wrong, wrong material in their nests, Moop not clean enough, letting them out too early or too late.
Here is what another farmer has to say about her Campines.
"Our [Campines]: one hen free ranges even to lay eggs -- never in a standard nesting area. Our cock refused to be confined when we tried to initate a breeding program. Some have been "friendly" enough to eat out of a hand or be a garden companion. Our favorites among the white egg layers."
So you notice that this other "crazy" person says that these are her favorites, don't you? They really do get under one's skin, and firmly in one's heart. Otherwise they would be firmly in one's frying pan!
I thought maybe I was doing something wrong, wrong material in their nests, Moop not clean enough, letting them out too early or too late.
Here is what another farmer has to say about her Campines.
"Our [Campines]: one hen free ranges even to lay eggs -- never in a standard nesting area. Our cock refused to be confined when we tried to initate a breeding program. Some have been "friendly" enough to eat out of a hand or be a garden companion. Our favorites among the white egg layers."
So you notice that this other "crazy" person says that these are her favorites, don't you? They really do get under one's skin, and firmly in one's heart. Otherwise they would be firmly in one's frying pan!
More chicks
What, am I crazy?
I lost 10 chicks in the first 24 hours. It took the postal service four days to get them here from Ohio. It is a miracle I didn't lose more. The Buckeyes seem to have been the hardest hit. I think these chickens are a bit fragile, at least compared to Campines. Considering how well the Campines made it through the winter, foraging in snow and running through drifts that were almost to their heads, I would have expected them to react poorly to the heat. But they didn't. I lost three Buckeyes while they were still in the greenhouse, which is why they are now residing in my house, while the Campines all made it through. And the Campines were raised in the greenhouse last summer - no wimping out and coming to the house for them.
The company said they would replace those first 10 chicks, and they are shipping express. While I think part of the problem was that the first shipment came during a holiday week when mail gets backed up, still, the hatchery and I both think that the post office is not to be trusted. I should have the new chicks this morning.
Why am I crazy, you might ask? I could have gotten credit for 10 chicks. Instead I opted to get replacement - replacements that are three weeks behind the others. That means they will need to be raised separately, at least for a few weeks. Chickens are mean. The big ones will kill the little ones, and so they must be kept apart. We have such romanticized ideas about animals - how pure they are, how innately smart they are. Hah! Not so!! Especially chickens. I am fascinated by them and repelled by them at the same time. They cannot be trusted, they cannot be trained. It is every chicken for itself. Dogs can be taught manners. Even cats can be lifted above their baser instincts with enough attention. Cows are very trainable, of course. But not chickens.
So I am sitting here this morning wondering why I didn't take the credit, why I wasn't content with ONE box of chickens in my atrium instead of two, why I didn't get a bigger box for the new little ones, why -- why -- why???
Yup, I'm crazy . . .
I lost 10 chicks in the first 24 hours. It took the postal service four days to get them here from Ohio. It is a miracle I didn't lose more. The Buckeyes seem to have been the hardest hit. I think these chickens are a bit fragile, at least compared to Campines. Considering how well the Campines made it through the winter, foraging in snow and running through drifts that were almost to their heads, I would have expected them to react poorly to the heat. But they didn't. I lost three Buckeyes while they were still in the greenhouse, which is why they are now residing in my house, while the Campines all made it through. And the Campines were raised in the greenhouse last summer - no wimping out and coming to the house for them.
The company said they would replace those first 10 chicks, and they are shipping express. While I think part of the problem was that the first shipment came during a holiday week when mail gets backed up, still, the hatchery and I both think that the post office is not to be trusted. I should have the new chicks this morning.
Why am I crazy, you might ask? I could have gotten credit for 10 chicks. Instead I opted to get replacement - replacements that are three weeks behind the others. That means they will need to be raised separately, at least for a few weeks. Chickens are mean. The big ones will kill the little ones, and so they must be kept apart. We have such romanticized ideas about animals - how pure they are, how innately smart they are. Hah! Not so!! Especially chickens. I am fascinated by them and repelled by them at the same time. They cannot be trusted, they cannot be trained. It is every chicken for itself. Dogs can be taught manners. Even cats can be lifted above their baser instincts with enough attention. Cows are very trainable, of course. But not chickens.
So I am sitting here this morning wondering why I didn't take the credit, why I wasn't content with ONE box of chickens in my atrium instead of two, why I didn't get a bigger box for the new little ones, why -- why -- why???
Yup, I'm crazy . . .
This year's chicks, three weeks old. The dark ones are Golden Campines, the light ones Buckeyes.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Chickens 1, Susan 0
The chickens are going wherever they please! They have been running free too long to stay in that pen. Tonight Buster was at least 15 feet up in a tree, crowing with gusto! I fear he is laughing at me.
On their first day of "captivity," all ten of them were out of the pen by the time I was done milking. So much for putting line up to keep them in. However, the fence does give me some sense of security, since there is no evidence of anything skulking around their Moop at night. So while it is not keeping them in, it is keeping the skulker out. There is something to be said for that.
They are happily returning to the Moop at roosting time now. I am finding about three eggs in the nests every day. Occasionally I find one on the ground. That has happened often enough to convince me that it is yet another of their bad habits.
They have no manners, will not be trained, and they are definitely winning . . .
On their first day of "captivity," all ten of them were out of the pen by the time I was done milking. So much for putting line up to keep them in. However, the fence does give me some sense of security, since there is no evidence of anything skulking around their Moop at night. So while it is not keeping them in, it is keeping the skulker out. There is something to be said for that.
They are happily returning to the Moop at roosting time now. I am finding about three eggs in the nests every day. Occasionally I find one on the ground. That has happened often enough to convince me that it is yet another of their bad habits.
They have no manners, will not be trained, and they are definitely winning . . .
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)