Goosy Lucy

Lucy Goosy

Our little disabled Lucy Goosy is growing up into a beautiful white goose. She no longer has any yellow fuzzy down, just a luxurious covering of white feathers over thick white down. Lucy still runs over to greet me making her baby goose noises but does not let me pick her up for goose hugs any more. She walks with a slight limp and you can see she has to work harder than the other goslings to balance herself. Every now and then she wobbles a bit. Lucy and I have long conversations some days but it's hard with all the other goslings interrupting our bonding time. Lucy has had several fans come to visit her and she is always delighted to greet them. When her visitors see her crooked foot they realize what hard work it is for her to get around and she is to have survived. Goosy does not realize she is crippled or disabled in any way. She runs a little slower than the other ducks and goslings, when climbing over rocks or into the barn she takes careful deliberate, wobbly steps but she always makes it.

She will always be a special goosy girl.

Speckles and Bossy

Speckles and Bossy
This past spring John and his wife Joann bought four hens from us to raise for eggs. They live in the village of Chatham and could only raise hens, no roosters for fear that the crowing would disturb their neighbors. When they picked up their birds the inquired into what type of feed we used and I explained how we mix our own organic feed. One thing led to another and they now buy their chicken feed from our farm. By doing this we have been keeping in touch sharing chicken stories.
The other day John sent an email commenting on how big his one hen, Bossy is getting, she is growing like an ostrich. My immediate thought is Uh Oh; some body has gone cross chicken gender and turned from a hen to a rooster. It happens, not the cross gender thing but every now and then a bird will fool you and turn rooster. I have also had a hen act like a rooster for a six month then start laying eggs (Coco my show girl believe it or not!). I question John if by chance; he has heard any crowing or something like a crow or screech. He said no, no, they all just happily cluck around. Okay, but I'm still thinking if her name is Bossy, she bosses the other hens around and is growing like an ostrich? Sounds like rooster to me but we have to wait and see. Know how attached to their birds the John and Joann are I'm hoping my thoughts do not come true.
The very next morning I get the email from John mentioning how he may have spoke too soon, there was crowing coming form the coop. I feel horrible; their birds are like children to them, darn, darn, darn. I've always told our customers if a hen turns rooster, bring them back and I will swap out the roo for a hen (hopefully). John agrees to the swap, I have a young hen available and they need to stop over for feed anyway.
Off I send Bruce, my poor husband out into the back yard to hunt down Speckles. Speckles is a young pullet (female chicken) Cuckoo Maran that hatched out with the turkeys. She thinks she is a turkey and is very happy hanging out with the giant gangly beasts. Speckles feathers are a dark black/gray color with lots of tiny white speckles all over with dainty little feathers going down her legs. Her best friend is Willow and those two are always together day and night along with their turkeys. Now that I think about it I haven't seen Speckles in a day or so, but with all the babies running wild out there it's easy to miss a bird for a day or two. Bruce looks high and low for Speckles; for once he even knew which bird I'm asking him to look for! Willow is in the barn, the turkeys were hanging out, outside the barn but there is no sign of Speckles. Now I start to get worried, a few weeks ago a couple of Elvira's chicks vanished. They had a very bad habit of sneaking out of our perimeter fencing every day to visit the neighbors. Bruce and I figured Foxy Loxy may have had a paw in their disappearance. While I'm hunting for Speckles my hope sinks, I fear she may have decided to sneak out also, which she has never done before. They have a whole acre, why do they need to visit the neighbors? Then the old adage rang true in my head "The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence", darn birds.
John and Joann arrive and we explain our situation of Speckles missing. They agree to wait a few days to see if She turns up, if not they will adopt younger chicks. I'm still hoping to find her lounging out somewhere having a chicken party with a few other hens. Now for Bossy, I have to find him a place to stay for a few days so he can meet the other chickens slowly. When introducing a new bird to the flock they need a slow introduction, everyone beats up the new kid on the block. This is especially true for a young rooster.
Reaching into the cat carrier I take out Bossy, he is absolutely beautiful! He is almost all white with black accents around his neck with spectacular rooster feathering. Immediately he stuffs his head under my arm, shaking from fear. I could see the pain in John and Joann's eyes, giving up Bossy was not an easy task for them. I Assuring them that he will be fine and carefully place him in a pen alone that is within view of all the other bird in the barn. He can meet everyone behind the safety of chicken wire to ensure he is not beaten up or picked on. Bossy is not happy about this, he had never been alone before in his whole life, he starts prancing back and forth trying to fine a way through the fencing. The next morning I go out to check on Bossy first thing. He is still prancing back and forth but seems more frantic then the evening before. Going into his pen I pick the boy up, he squawks and stuffs his head under my arm, desperately trying to hide. Hoping is as gentle as he seems, I place Bossy in with all the younger chicks for company. He can still be seen by all the big birds but not be all alone. Ta da, he is thrilled, Bossy starts strutting around the baby pen, clucking and bah burring to any chick that would listen. As far as he knows, he is still a young chick also. This solution will keep him safe until I think the other roosters will accept him.
Meanwhile another day goes by and there is still no sign of Speckles, my heart slowly sinks a little more when all of a sudden Bruce comes rushing into the house announcing he has found Speckles! She had fallen behind a board, slipping into the wall of the barn. The poor girl has been wedged in the wall for three days! Carefully Bruce extracted her from her predicament and places her next to a water and food bowl. Speckles can barely stand up but she manages to wobble over to the water dish and starts to drink. After what seemed an eternity she stops drinking and turns to the dish of food for a nibble. It looks as if her feathers have been squished upwards on each side and compressed. Speckles is wobbly and shaking but she is eating and drinking, that’s a very good sign after her ordeal. A few more minutes go by; she must have had enough water and food for the moment. She then wobbles over to a sunny spot on the barn floor where quietly sat down and closes her eyes. I can see her tail feathers are shaking, Speckles is not out of the woods yet.
My mind is racing what could I give her to boost her strength. She needs electrolytes, juice, sugars something to get energy into her weak dehydrated little body. Back in the house I'm digging around for something to give her and I came across Gatorade, why not, I'll try it, chickens love sweet stuff. Then I cut up a peach into tiny bits with some cucumber and lettuce. Placing this tiny feast in front of Speckles I feel better; hopefully it will work for her.
She opens her eyes and I splash my finger in the Gatorade water, this gets her attention and she leans over to take a long drink. Speckles then notices the fruit and cucumber and slowly nibbles on just a tiny bit, then closes her eyes resting in her sun spot. There is nothing more I can do but let her rest. Every ten or fifteen minutes I went out to the barn to check on Speckles progress. Slowly she is improving, walking around the barn from feed bowl to treat dish to water bowl and the Gatorade dish, taking a sip or nibble from each. Willow came into the barn discovering Speckles and seemed very happy at the return of her friend, together they wandered happily around the barn burbling. How I wish Willow could have told me her friend was stuck in the wall.

After a few hours I call John and Joann to give them the good news about Speckles, they are excited and offer to adopt both girls as soon as Speckles is well enough to travel. Speckles has made a full recovery, she is inseparable from Willow. The two girls will be ready to be adopted by the weekend. Bossy is still living with the baby chicks, we may have a family that will hopefully adopt him (please, please, please). This will save him from going through the trauma of being the low rooster in pecking order.

My Lovely Mud

My Lovely Mud

When I was a kid I used to love to play in the mud. I would collect old stray containers, empty butter tubs, old pie tins, any thing that could be used to form the mud into different gourmet delicacies' of dirt. All of this had to be done in secret, if I was ever caught playing in mud or with mud, mom would kill me! Usually I would go way out back on a rock in the woods with my tools, after a rainfall when the mud would be plentiful.

These would not be any old mud pies, there would be wild onions, scallions and any available flower or fauna in bloom at the time used to season my creations. I would sit there on my rock serving meals, making dirt dishes for hours. When I went back to the house my mother would be furious, wondering how I could possibly get so dirty. All her friends little girls 7 or 8 years old and they would be sparkling clean with cute little pig tails and white socks. I was a crusty mess, torn pants, cuts, bruises and scrapes, covered head to toe in my lovely mud. My mother would throw my clothes out and of course I would get a beating but it was worth it!

All those bitter sweet, dirty memories came back to me as I look out my back door, watching the ducks diving through the mud. How could I have loved something that I hate so much now? Those ducks were diving; running in circles, splattering mud and muddy water wildly in the air, they are having a grand time. They love the rain and the mud it brings to life.

Suddenly I'm tempted to get out my plastic containers and old pie tins, go pick some flowers, chives, garlic scapes and create a muddy delicacy for my husbands' dinner. I could join the ducks and share their innocent joy of frolicking in the mud. How long do you think it would take before Bruce has me hauled away or the neighbors call the paramedics? Look the lady next door has finally snapped. Not to mention all the bird poop mixed in with that mud.

I've decided to be a sideline spectator, let the ducks have their fun amongst themselves. Watching them gives me the opportunity to experience their joy that is good enough for me. Someday though I may be tempted again to join them and I just might do it.

Freebird Goes to the Vet

Freebird goes to the vet

I know that I've not mentioned Freebi in a while but he is still around. About one month ago his middle toe on his right foot became infected; its one of those bent, deformed bird toes that happen every now and then. Noticing him limp around the yard one Saturday, I went to pick him up and check it out. Free's poor toe looked like a swollen sausage about to burst. I try not to panic but or course I do and call the vet, Freebi is may special boy.Once again, we are very lucky to have a vet that will take care of fowl farm creatures. If you can bring it to him, he will take care of it. The vet said to bring him in immediately.

Off we go to the vet, my mother-in-law drove and Freebird road on my lap (with a towel under him). That rooster sat in my lap happily making his burrrr burrrrrr noises with an occasional grrrrrrwwwwwl, that’s a rooster growl by the way. As the care started rolling Free hunkered down and decided he better hide his head under the towel, smashing as close to me as he could get. The ride to the vet is only five minutes and surprisingly uneventful (when have you ever heard me say that), Freebird is one good little rooster.

The bird and I go into the office while mom waits out in the car. You would have thought that these people had never seen a chicken before, let a long a pet rooster hiding its head under a towel. Freebird had the attention of every one in the waiting room and the vet staff. Slowly I try to get him to lift his head up and come out from under his towel. It took me a few minutes of cooing and talking to get Free to looking around; finally he did and realized it is not all that scary, until he saw a dog in the same room. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrwwwww, back went the head under the towel. People now have their cell phones out ready to take pictures of the rooster at the vet, I really didn't see the thrill but I guess this is not your every day occurrence.

Freebird starts to get a little antsy and pops his head out to take another look around, click, click click; he is now famous with his vet office paparazzi snapping pictures. One woman comes over asks if she can pet him. Free takes one look at her and gives a screeeeeeeeeeeeee grrrrrrrrrrrr, which means back off lady. This makes me laugh because he is the gentlest bird on the planet. I tell the women give me a second to turn him around so his back is to her, he loves to be scratched. This way he could not see who is petting him and he was happily facing the wall, no more scary people or dog. Freebi starts to give his content burble of burr baa burrs waiting for his turn in examination room. Meanwhile I'm answering a barrage of questions about the star rooster.

The vet tech calls Freebird in and two more techs come with her, they all want to pet him, take pictures and look at Free. One tech gets a bowl with warm soapy water to soak his foot in. The other tech is preparing bandages, scissors and tape while the other tech is still snapping pictures as Free is nervously posing. I'm holding him while his foot is soaking in the warm water with the tech gently massaging his toe and foot, debriding it. What the heck? I don't think I have ever gotten this kind of care or attention at any doctors' office!

Finally the vet comes in, examines Frees toe and tells the tech to antibiotic gel it and wrap it up. He fixes a couple of syringes, one for antibiotics the other for pain, yes pain. My freaking bird is getting the good stuff, heck I'm the one who has to pay the bill, where is my shot? I'm holding the spoiled brat while his foot is being wrapped up, he gets his shots and we are good to go.

By this point Freebi is has his head back under the towel, clinging to me and there is no way I can set him down to pay the bill. Of course the receptionist kindly takes my debit card out of my pocket for me, process the payment and slips it back into my pocket, how kind. I'm told to bring Freebird back in two days for another injection and he may need one more after that. Honestly I don't remember how much that initial visit cost me, I'm probably blocking it out of my memory but this is my Freebird, he is worth every penny.

We go back through the waiting room, Freebi is now hiding from his paparazzi and mom drives us home. I think to Freebi's amazement, he survived the ordeal. When we get home I let him loose in the house, shaking his feathers he cautiously struts off; tap thump, tap thump, tap thump, burrrr babaaaaa burrrrrr. Pumpking runs up to Free and is desperately attempting to sniff the bird head to toe; where have you been, whats that smell, ahhh butt checks. I'm running around to get his special water set up and arrange a place for him in the barn where he can keep his precious toe clean.

When I come back looking for Freebi, I can't find him anywhere. He was raised in the house as a chick, in a cage on our table, he knows the house well, and he could be anywhere. I do a few laps through the house and eventually I notice he is sitting quietly on the back of my over stuffed leather chair, right where he used to sit with me in the evenings when he was a chick. There is a lot more to those feather brains then they ever given credit for.

By Freebi's second vet visit he was strutting across the counter, posing and even gave them a good old Cock a doodle dooooo. Pictures were being snapped; I explained how he likes to be rubbed under his wings (wing pit rubs). By the third visit, he was a pro and rode in the seat next to me on his towel all by himself, like a big bird. He let anyone pet him and strutted around the waiting room, the counter and his exam room, he owned that office.

Every evening after work, I go out to to the barn to get Freebird for his soak and foot massage. The toe had looked very good, almost healed and then he relapsed. Freebi stands on one foot with me holding him up with his other foot in a hot water soak. Slowly I'm starting to see an improvement again but his toe is obviously going to take a time to thoroughly heal. He has been very patient and a very good patient, not many roosters would tolerate the foot soak but the massage must make it feel better. After each treatment, his foot is wrapped up with antibiotic gel and he gets his treat for being such a good boy. When I let him down to run around a bit, giving him a little change of scenery from the barn; he does a tour of the house then stomps off to his chair, tap thump, tap thump, tap thump, baaa baaa burrrrrr.

Some days are easier then others

Some days doing chores can be more difficult then other days. It is tough sometimes to be outside at 6 am in the dark during a winter snow storm, or a torrential down poor or even on a very humid 90 degree plus day doing chores twice a day. Bruce usually lugs all the large three to five gallon waters around, filling and placing them where they are needed. Then there are the small waterers, the feeding, egg collecting, herding babies, locking every one in for the overnight. Chasing down those darn ducks, doing head counts are we missing any one, who or how many hatched out in the incubator? There is always some sort of trauma, drama or event that makes every day unique and interesting.

The other day we went about our usual morning duties. We were having trouble with everyone; the goose would not get off a duck nest, the turkey hens needed to be checked (to much boy activity), the tom turkeys were fighting (normal), one turkey poult caught its head in the feeder and was bleeding, Elvira took her chicks and went to the neighbors house (which she does daily) and the baby ducklings are running wild (normal).

Where to begin, the checking of the incubator, I carefully lift the lid and it is loaded with more chicks then I can carry. Okay it takes me several trips to the incubator ferrying my fuzzy little cargo. Change their water, add feed and adjust the heat lamp. Onto the next thing, turn the goose eggs in the other incubator, then it's out the back door with the buckets of feed for everyone outside. As I pass by the coffee maker I can grab a cup, Bruce always makes the morning coffee before he goes out to fill the big waters for the birds. Our paths cross out in the back yard, exchanging morning greetings, Bruce tells me that the goose will not get off a nest, and I'm off to the barn to remedy this situation.

Since I'm a huge multi-tasker, on my way to the barn I need to fill the food troughs for the birds. I'm almost to the first building and something is bouncing off my legs. Pepi is sneak attacking me leaving little perforation marks up and down my shins. Pepi is our bantam Millie Fleur with a serious attitude problem. Using my pail I block his next attack and then I start chasing him. I stop, he stops, while I'm turning around to go back to filling feeders I hear his little feet scurrying across the yard to attack me again. Spinning around I block pepi with the pail and reach down to grab the evil little bugger. Pepi eludes me scurrying off just out of my reach, slowly I turn back to what I was doing, and here he comes again. Now I'm reduced to a screaming lunatic, chasseing Pepi through the yard, in my jammies. The neighbors must love this. Finally Pepi gives up and I make it to the barn, a little bloody but I make it there.

Hansel and Gretel are our very large Emden geese. We had to take Gretel's nest away and stash the eggs in the incubator; Hansel had decided to kill any bird that went near her nest. Now Gretel has found a nest to steal with a few duck eggs in it. Hansel is outside the barn honking, she is in her broody funk, contently resting on her new found eggs. I try to push her off the nest, no luck. Next I decide all I can do is pick her up and carry her out of the barn. That shouldn't be too hard, she seems calm, once outside I can lock her and Hansel out of the barn.Her it goes, I bend down and quickly wrap my arms around Gretel, getting a firm grip I pick her up. Holy crap, obviously I did not realize how big she is. Having a good grip on her, my face is smashed against her back, she starts kicking I start running for the door. Now she is attempting to flap her wings, kicking wildly, squirming and honking her brains out, my ears are ringing. Hansel starts honking in a panic outside when he hears Gretel's honks. I would recommend that no one ever try this at home or alone. My grip is starting to slip; she is squirming and can almost turn her head face to face with me. The kicking feet are claw at me, she is hissing madly and I drop her outside the barn door just in time and immediately step back in to slam the door before Hansel could get me.

It's a good thing I didn't shower yet, now I'm onto check out Whisky and Clover, the turkey hens. The two girls were still roosting in the main barn, which makes my life a little easier this morning. I have check them daily make sure that there are no injuries to their backs from the toms, Cecil and Dinner mating with them. Whisky's back looks pretty good; she still has a nice covering of feathers, onto Clover. Clover's back is naked, not a feather to be seen. Now I have to reach up and lift her off the roost for a closer examination. This is easier then it sounds, the turkeys are very gentle good nature creatures. Except for being heavy and huge they can be carried around without a struggle. Carefully I pick up Clover and carry her into work area of the barn for her examination. She just looked at me chirping with her big brown eye, wide open and worried. Clover's back did not look as bad as I thought it was, she was doing okay and didn't need her hen guard yet to protect her from those nasty boys. She proceeds to climb all over the work bench checking out the baby turkeys in a cage there, terrorizing them. While she is on her tour of the work bench I notice one of the little turkeys has a bloody head. The cage they are in is so large that I have to put my head half my upper body into the cage to reach the injured bird. I get the bird and tangle my hair in the wire of the opening of the cage, shifting myself I then snag my jammie top on the bottom of the wire in the door way and now I'm stuck in the cage with the turkey in my clutches.

My thoughts are how the hell? Just ten minutes ago I was pretending to sleep, I've hardly had a sip out of my coffee and I'm locked from the inside, in the barn, and snagged to a cage from the inside. Clover is happily chirping and bouncing all over the work bench, normally the birds are now aloud in this area of the barn she is having a blast. Bruce is in the shower and would never hear me, even if he could. So now I'm trying to get my other arm in the cage to untangle my hair out of the wire and yank my top to un-snag it from the cage doorway, with out dropping my turkey. Luckily these guys are still pretty young and don't think eye balls and ears are tasty yet.

I'm out of the cage, I still have my turkey, picking up my pail I'm now trying to shoo Clover out of the forbidden barn zone. Finally I get her out the door after a few laps around the work table; outside the door that darn gander Hansel is still waiting for me. Gingerly I scoot past him, he's calmer now he has Gretel all to himself. First thing I need is more coffee then dump the baby with no skin on the back of its head in the brooder and finish feeding the other birds. I'm almost to the backdoor then suddenly Zilla bounces of the back of my legs.

Zilla is our giant buff Cochin; he has been a little cranky lately. He prefers to have a snack of sunflowers hand fed to him twice a day. Since we have been out of sunflower seeds and Zilla has not been a happy rooster. One of the other roosters had also been beating him up making him was a very unhappy boy. I managed to give away the bully rooster but Zilla still needs some time to calm down, get over his insecurity complex and dam I had better have his sunflower treats!

Spinning around, using my red pail to block Zilla, he only catches on of my thighs with his claws and spurs. Great, now I'm a bloody mess from front to back, top to bottom. Little puncture holes in my jammies, half my hair is in the turkey cage and I'm no where near done with my chores. Sprinting away from Zilla I make it into the house drop the bucket, grab my coffee and head to the sun porch to dump the baby turkey in the brooder. On the porch I realize I need the stupid bucket and the antibiotic gel for the turkey poult. Sprinting back to the other side of the house, I find what I need and head back to the porch. Now I have to catch the poor little turkey again, take it out of the brooder and smear the gel on the back of its blood encrusted head. The little thing is clueless, chirping a long happily, which is good.

With that done I toss it back into the brooder and watch to see how it acts; will it live, is the injury to shocking, does it huddle in a corner, tick tock, tick tock, I have more chores to do. The little bugger starts balancing on one leg and uses the other to scratch at the gel on the back of its head and flops over. OH MY GOD, now I’m having a heart attack, I killed the baby turkey by putting antibiotic gel on its head. The little shit hops back up and proceeds to scratch its head again and flop over. Now her head is starting to bleed, she's scratching, I'm freaking, what can I do to keep it from doing this?

Sprinting back to the other side of the house I retrieve the box of band aids and scissors, maybe I can MacGruber something to protect its head while I'm at work. Meanwhile Bruce is still in the shower, my coffee is slowly getting cold and I'm attempting to put a band aid on a small turkeys head. It took me two tries to realize that a freaking band aid was not such a good idea. The turkey was more frantic to get it off and kept flipping over. That’s when I made an executive decision to put the turkey down and walk away. If it scratches its little brains out that is just too bad.

Grabbing my stupid red bucket, filling it with feed I head out the door to finally finish my chores, Zilla promptly jumps me and now my thighs have matching puncture wounds and claw marks. Calmly crouching down to talk with Zilla and tell him that despite what he has done to my legs, I'm going to wear a dress to work today! Slowly I walk past Zilla to finish my chores; this is after all only the first twenty minutes of my day.

That darn little turkey survived and loves to ride on my shoulder, Zilla still has an attitude problem and my legs look like I jog through brambles!

First thing in the morning

First thing is that stupid alarm clock going off, no wait actually it's Chester, Herman, Maddie or Carmella, the cats. Who can get the best spot; find the softest place to knead their paws and wake me up for head rubs. Chester, Herman and Carmella get along pretty good but if Maddie thinks that there might be a hint of another cat in the same room, she sputters hisses and growls like a rabid animal. There is always a chain reaction when one cat does something whether it be hissing, fighting or waking Pumpkin and I up.So at about 4 am it all begins, cats marching up and down my body; Grrrr, hissss, purrr purrrr purrr, knead, knead, knead, thump, someone finally plops on top of my stomach. The other decides my legs need to be pinned down. They all avoid waking the orange beast, which would cause a grumpy grrrr and feeble attempt to chase them off the bed. Everyone settles in by about 4:15 am, nice and quiet, I'm safely pinned down; Pumpkin did not have to evict any one.Usually between 5 and 5:30 am the fox decides to circle the house barking. You hear this horrible noise that sounds like someone put a cat thru a wood chipper, Braaaatttt, Braaaatttt. Everyone is now wide awake, Pumpkin is up, standing on the bed, looking out the window Grrrrrr, Grrrrr, bowwww wowwww woooo grrrrr, she bolts off the bed, scattering the cats. Still believing that there is some slim hope of getting more sleep, I refusing to even open my eyes or acknowledging the ruckus around me. Bang goes the dog door, I had to have one with heavy duty hinges and springs, Bowwowwww, Grrrr, bowwowww through the back yard. It will only take Pumpkin a few minutes to assess the extent of the fox invasion and return to bed, a girl needs her beauty rest after all. Bang, the dog door now sounding like a gun shot and she jingles her way back upstairs to bed; name tag, rabies tag, doggie license all properly attached to her collar so we never lose are baby girl. Hopping on the bed, Pumpkin sigh contently, yawns, gives a snort and goes right back to sleep, the farm is safe.Then it all starts over again with the cats, purrrr, hissss, knead, knead…. Ugh, I realize how badly I need to go to the bathroom with 15 pounds of Herman on my stomach. Finally every one is all settled back in their spot; I still have a chance at getting a little more sleep before the alarm goes off at 6 am. In the distance, while I'm pretending to get much needed rest, I faintly hear Zilla crowing in the barn. Then Pepi chimes in which of course wakes up Freebird so he needs to join the other two and that wakes up the tom turkeys, Cecil and Dinner. Cocka doodle doooo, urta urta ooooo, gobble, gobble, gobble, now the guineas chime in, it does not stop once it starts, until they get let out of the barn. Slowly Pumpkin starts to stretch, giving a nice long beagle moan, noisy yawn and a few good snorts, it's going on 5:55 am and she knows my alarm will go off at 6. Do you know how long five minutes is to a little orange dog? Obviously it is an eternity. Pumpkin now lying on her back starts to moan, groan while kicking her paws in the air, wiggling her but back and forth from side to side. My little forty pound darling starts making louder moans along with other noises protesting my laziness for not waking up to rub her exposed belly. I'm holding fast to my do not make a move idea, I'm still sleeping, I have at least three more minutes before the alarm goes off. Finally the clock radio starts blaring at me and I roll over to hit the snooze button. Max will usually jump up to smash with me and the cats until the snooze alarm goes off. This is always one step to far for Pumpkin. She bolts up the bed starts licking any exposed skin feverishly. Then she leaps off the bed tears down the stairs and starts barking for me to join her. Heck no, I hit the snooze, I have eight more minutes. Now she is tearing back up the stairs, throws herself on the carpet and repeating her performance, belly up, feet now kicking wildly in the air, but whipping back and forth, moans, groans, whimpers coming from the orange body writhing on my floor. I have five more minutes, I'm not budging, and that’s when she realized its time to pull out the big guns. Starting with a little whine that sounds like she is very desperate, something terrible is wrong, Pumpkin tells me how she feels. Slowly this will escalate from the whiney whimper of dog talk to a madly barking crazed spinning Pumpkin. That’s when I give in, what the heck, there is only seconds until the clock goes off. Sitting straight up in bed I holler "let's go", Max leaps off the bed and Pump goes barreling down the stairs, still barking madly with an occasional spin. I'm halfway down the stairs she is tearing off into the house, returning only to bark at me; making sure I'm really following her. Every now and then she grabs Maxi by the leg attempt to drag him along with her. This performance does not stop until we are out the back door, checking out the new day with my special little orange girl.

Ducklings Everywhere

Finally, we had a duck successfully hatch her nest of eggs. Bluebell ,our "duck in the hole", has twelve little fuzzy ducklings tucked under her. The secret to her success is that she picked an almost impossible spot to get into for the location of her nest. One morning ,I was walking past the pig/goose/duck pen, in a wired off side shoot, there behind chicken wire, staring out at me was Bluebell. That smart lucky duck had gone to the back of the pen, found the blocked off entrance to the side area and dug under the board blocking it. Bluebell had been sneaking in and out for a month laying her eggs and fluffing her nest without us noticing. When the time was right, she settled in for her thirty five day incubation period. That’s the morning I found her staring out at me, in her fenced in fortress, the perfect spot for ducky nesting. I swear she knew she had outsmarted me and all the other ducks. The poor other ducks had chickens, and those darn Guinea hens were dropping eggs right and left under them. They were stressed, always having their nest invaded. We even had one chicken hen decide it was her nest, and took it over. Not smarty feathers Bluebell, she was neatly tucked away down a ten foot hole, on a pile of downy feathers, looking out me. She had it all to herself, not one bird had caught on to what she had done or how she had gotten there. Meanwhile another duck I call Big Mamma adopted 19 ducklings and 1 special needs gosling (Lucy Goosie). These babies were hatched in the brooder and put out in the back of the duck pen under a heat lamp. After two weeks I cut them loose so they could venture out into the yard to graze on grass. This can be a very nerve racking time for me; keeping them safe, making sure that they don't get to close to a big cranky goose or beaten up by a giant turkey. The second day I cut the babies loose, I noticed Big Mamma talking to all the little guys and they were listening to her. Muscovy's have a gentle whispery call that you can barely hear. Big Mamma was gathering up all the babies to watch over them. She started marching around, giving out whispering ducky commands and they all followed her, even poor little special needs Lucy Goosie. If any undesirable bird dares to get to close to her brood Mamma snaped at them with a loud hiss to chase off the dirty bird. Looking out in the backyard, I can see Big Mamma with all 20 of her brood piled around her sleeping, while under her watchful eye. For once I could breath a sigh of relief, this is one less group that I had to watch over endlessly. If you have never experienced a "duck pile" you haven't lived. When it is nap time, the ducklings make little fuzzy piles of yellow, black, brown ducklings, smashing together with little wings, bills and big webbed feet sticking out in every direction. Lucy Goosie is usually the center of the pile since she is the largest baby in the group. My little Lucy Goosie was hatched out from mystery goose eggs given to me from Martin and Hennelore. She is the only one out of eight eggs that hatched. The poor little thing had a horrible struggle the first 3 day of her life. Lucy's left webbed foot was curled when she hatched; all her toes were curled up in a ball instead of a normal flat webbed foot. I have experienced this problem before with ducklings but not to this degree of deformity. Out comes the medical tape, a plastic lid from a Chinese food container and the scissors, time to make a little brace for a tiny webbed foot,I like to call this MacGrubering, for those SNL fans. It took me two attempts to get the fit correct, Lucy peeped in protest the whole time. Do you know how hard it is to take a tiny foot, shaping all the little toes and taping the foot to a tiny piece of plastic the size of a penny? Did I mention the whole time the booth tiny feet are kicking in the air, with Lucy peeping wildly while I'm attempting to tape her little curled foot.Finally I finish Lucy's foot and put her back into the brooder with her little friends. Lucy immediately gets up and clumsily marches around the brooder on her new flat foot. It took her a few tries to get used to the tape and plastic that is holding her toes in a normal position. Now all I can do is wait and see if the foot heals properly. Geese are a very heavy bird, they need both feet to support their weight. After three days, Lucy had bounced back from the ordeal and started to act like a normal three day old gosling; running wild in the brooder, stomping around with her foot brace. On day four of Lucy's life, I decided it was time to check the progress of her little foot; while pealing off the medical tape she protested even louder then before and kicked much harder. She is a nice strong baby now. Honestly I did not expect poor little Lucy Goosie’s foot to turn out as good as it did. Her tiny webbed foot looked almost normal. I put the crazy peeping gosling back down in the brooder with her friends and she started running wild! Every day now when Lucy comes padding up to me with her big feet, one of which is a little deformed I think of how lucky she is. Picking her up and nuzzling the fuzzy gosling fuzz while I still can as she peeps contently, I realize how lucky I am.

Farm News

Okay, I know it has been a while since my last update but I finally got my third cast off my arm, hopefully for good. Typing is still a painful challenge. Yes once again I was my ever graceful self and broke my wrist while attempting to impersonate "Stupor Woman". Only half the company (my day job) watched me fly through the air in our café only to smack to the floor because of a wayward ice cube. My first cast lasted two weeks, second one made it five days, finally is was given the option of a water resistant material for the third cast. The third one only had to last for eight days, obviously gortex, fiberglass and farm work can really "ripen" a cast. There is so much going on at our farm I almost don't know where to begin. How about everyone has gone broody, that’s when a girl bird must sit on a nest of eggs. Whether it is a chicken on a clutch of duck eggs or a duck and a guinea on a bunch of chicken eggs or a chicken, duck and guinea trying to sit in one box on every egg they can steel. It is absolute mayhem. Not to mention the turkeys, oh those poor girls have a nest in our old dog house. It’s a free for all in there, every girl just hops in and drops an egg and leaves it for the poor turkeys to sit on. Luckily Clover and Whisky are very tame turkey girls, I can check under them every day, take out the extra eggs deposited. I'm not so lucky with the Guinea hens; they are determined to remove flesh if you try to take their eggs away. For a while I could block them with my casted arm and quickly pick eggs with my other hand. Now it's just bare flesh and their beaks. Those crazy things make a hissing noise, while jabbing their beaks to rip flesh at blinding speed. The hissing noise ads real drama to the whole deal; I keep thinking of the scene in Jurassic Park where that big bird spits in the guys eyes while hissing and then eats him. I'm sure eventually that would be my destiny if the guinea hens had it their way.Any minute all of those broody birds' eggs should be hatching out, that’s when the real fun begins. Oh I have been hatching eggs for two months using incubators and Elvira. There are chicks, ducklings, goslings, turkey poults and Elvira with her brood of chicks running wild all over the place. El is a Silky hen with a wild chicken feather do, who is a great mother hen. There is nothing like having the birds do what they love to do, hatch and raise their brood. It is amazing to watch the hens giving calls, clucks or whispers to their little guys, teaching them the ins and outs of the farm; stay away from that big goose, it will bite you, watch out for that little orange dog, she will sniff your butt or look that’s the person who gives out good treats, run to her. Pretty soon there will be babies swarming everywhere.Pumpkin, Pumpkin, Pumpkin, our darling orange, snorting, butt sniffing, face licking, bird poop eating, precious dog. She is always my faithful alert, assistant, as you can see in the attached picture. Pumpkin watches over her feathery domain, never missing an opportunity to butt check a bird. Bird butt checking is a very delicate process. First Pumpkin waits until the birds are very, very distracted by something, like say mating. Yes nothing is sacred in our yard; she scopes out who is mating with whom, the window of opportunity is always open. Pumpkin scores a butt check, the birds just score. Okey dokey, onto the next subject; Meat birds, Finally we have a small supply of frozen chicken in the freezer again. It was pretty rough for three or four weeks this spring without our chicken, now we are flying along smoothly. After this coming weekend we will have more fresh chicken if anyone has a hankering. The Quail are coming along slowly, very slowly. They should be ready in about 5 weeks for eggs and meat. Their eggs and the pickling of them will be the bane of my existence. Who knew pickled eggs would be such a hot item? Those tiny, little eggs that take for ever to peal have turned out to be one of our best selling items.

Porgi and Bess

When will I learn, nothing is every easy. Bruce and I had decided (mostly I decided) that we need to raise more of our own meat for our consumption. We have been getting a little fowl lately dining mostly on chicken, duck, quail, imaging the suffering. This year swine and cattle will be added to our menagerie. There is so much to look into before committing to going swine; the cost, how long to raise them, who will eventually "salon" them. After many discussions with a previously chosen farm, the pig arrangements needed to be made; the date of pick up, the ages, weights, breeds and to alter or not to alter the boy pig. Finally I agreed to have the boy pig castrated, they offered to do it for me 5 days ahead of his pick up and he would be all "healed up" by time I arrived. The other pig would be a girl. So off I go in our farm truck, it’s a beautiful Friday afternoon, the day before my birthday, who wouldn't be excited about getting pigs for their birthday? I agree to meet the woman selling me the pigs at an intersection in Ma, and then follow her to the farm. The drive went well, traveling through the Berkshires, viewing small houses/farms out in the middle of nowhere obviously barely surviving. It was sort of shocking to see either beautiful homes or destitute houses and not much in-between.Finally I arrive at our meeting point, so far so good. I then follow my pig raisers back 2 miles into the mountains to a farm that I would have never been able to locate or find on my own. We traveled about 1/2 mile down a mud road (the term road is used loosely) that slips into the creek at the base of the mountain. Eventually we came upon a shack and what should be a barn, the woman tells me to drive down to the next house so I can turn my car around. The next "house" was interesting, the road ended there but I had enough room to turn around. Cats started darting out from under and around the house which was a very old cabin. Then a chained up beagle darted under the house and a little old lady came out the back door to see who was in her front yard. Smiling I waved, hoping she did not produce a shot gun from around the corner of the house, luckily she waved back. The front porch was lined with old furniture and chairs with stuffing coming out from all sides, crates and boxes and a rope holding thread warn laundry, blowing in the breeze between the porch supports. It all looked very tidy with order yet very old. This was the best part of my pig experience. With my truck turned around, I drove back to the mud pit in front of the first shack and barn. There we all exchanged greetings, there is a woman and two men, and I felt somewhat secure that maybe everything here isn't as scary as it looks. When will I learn, go with your first gut instinct. I unload the crates for the pigs and the fun began. I'm slowly looking around, I should have taken pictures but that would have been a little obvious. The pig people disappear into the "barn", it is to dark for me to really see what is going on. Suddenly there is tremendous squealing, and one of them hollers how he's "got one", I'm hoping it’s a pig. One of the men drags out of the dark recesses of this barn a male pig. He proceeds to choke the pig with bailing twine until it passes out at my feet, and then loads it into the crate to be loaded into my truck. Mean while I'm trying to stay calm, I'm not squeamish but jeese, I start yelling at the guy "if that pig dies, it will be on your doorstep", on the doorstep of what, their shack? Then from the dark depths of the barn one of them catches another pig but they are slightly more "gentle" with this pig. The woman is hollering at the guy to loosen the twine, pigs trashing, in the darkness…. Yes I'm actually experiencing this alone in the middle of no where with the cousins from the original Chain Saw Massacre story. When will I learn, nothing is ever what it seems to be.They seemed so nice; the phone conversations, when I met them at the intersection to follow them to the farm, what the heck? Quickly I write up a check, toss a dozen eggs at the women, thank them and jump into my truck. Ruhhh ruhhh ruhhh, the starter is struggling, my heart stops, I feel the panic slowly creeping up my chest, finally it the truck turns over. Very carefully I put the truck in gear and slowly drive off as fast as possible, through the mud, hoping the truck does not stall, become stuck or slide into creek. When I reach the main roads, I breath one huge sigh of relief, I'm on my way home and those poor pigs will be living in sunlight on a clean farm full of love, care and the respect they deserve.Only it's not over yet, when I arrive home after my 1 1/2 hour drive, carefully I back the truck up for pig unloading. While turning the truck off, I realize I need to be a little farther back towards the yard; I try to start it up and realize it is dead. I was one click away from being stuck in Deliverance with a load of pigs and crazy people. Now the fun begins, we have pigs and the neighbors show up to help us unload them into their new pen. We did not choke, dangle or carry them by two legs; we lifted the crates and gently place them into their new home. That’s when we noticed the junk hanging out under the boy pig, extra parts that didn't belong. Frantically I call back the freaks from whence they came ranting that there is extra bloody junk hanging out of my boy pigs parts! The Deliverance woman explains that this is from his "castration" that they did on 1 1/2 days ago and it would fall off in a few days. Wait, they were going to castrate him and have him healed by time I picked up the pigs, which I pointed out to her. She continued to assure me this was normal, he would be fine and she would keep in touch with me to make sure the pig was okay. Well between slitting him open, 1 1/2 days later strangling him, then dangling him by two legs to "load him up", I'm not buying this "he's okay thing". The pig did not look anywhere near okay, he actually looked very sick at this point. The next morning, the pig we now call Porgy did not get up or move. We called our local veterinarian for advice and he prescribed antibiotics for Porgy, he had a very bad infection in his nether not there any more region. If I had known this would be so dramatic for the pig and how filthy the farm was, I would never have agreed to the castration in the first place. Unknowingly I was under the impression this was a clean, farm that followed humane practices. I can not stress enough that people need to go see first hand where their meat is coming from. There are many farms like this, who supply farmers markets with their organic farm raised meat. Yes it may be a tiny bit better then those factory farms but not really. If you are going to pay for organic farm market meat, check out the farm supplier first, then see if you still want to eat that meat. You will be surprised. I have been unlucky enough to have seen many of these supposed humane, organic farms and that is why we are raising all our own meat from now on.Okay back to Porgy. I spent two days slowly hand feeding Porgy, mashing healthy food into this poor boys mouth before he could get back on his feet; let me tell you pigs have big teeth and very strong jaws. He is about 100 pounds of pig and could have bitten my hand off at any time he felt like it. By day three he finally ate on his own and started to walk around looking interested in his surroundings. Bess his girlfriend pig was by his side the whole time, I'm amazed at how social and dedicated they are to each other.Now another adventure slowly begins, Porgy and Bess start to check out their yard, which is our yard, the bird's yard, the dog's yard. Let the excavations begin! I have new roto-pigtilled garden spots all ready to plant, almost. Porgy's junk is healing, he's eating like a pig and our yard looks like a bulldozer gone wild episode. But that’s okay, we can replant, rake, fix the yard??? Ugh so now we have a fence starting at the barns, splitting the way back yard/field from our back front yard. We need to replant the immediate back yard this spring with field grass for the birds anyway so what the heck? You try to explain this to Bess who has turned out to be the "I can push my way under or through the fence once I find the weakest spot" pig. She is a sneaky little devil; I think she shares her ideas with Pumpkin. We are going on week two and she still has found a way to sneak in the immediate back yard on a daily basis. Porgy is happy where he is and just fine with the back field, unless he is separated from Bess. We have pig nose prints running down the house, on the back door and once I have seen the shadow of a big pig's ass going out my kitchen door as I was walking in from the dinning room. Pumpkin alerted me to that deal. No more leaving the doors open on a warm sunny afternoon. Pumpkin works hard following them around barking at their butts, keeping them in piggy line. As for Porgy and Bess, they totally ignore her.Week three, Bess still sneaks in, Pumpkin still walks around behind them barking, not as much though and Porgy's junk has still not fallen off yet? It is time to get out the big guns, now I have to call a big animal veterinarian, which does house calls. I call the local farm vet, explain the situation, the vet yells at me "Take him back", I yell back "That is not an option, we believe in only humane animal practices on our farm" the vet then yells "its gonna cost ya, someone is going to have to examine the pig", I yell back "well stupid that’s why I'm calling you". Literally this is what's happening, if any one knows our local big animal vet, you know what I mean. This is just the way it is; we went around for a while yelling back and forth, finally he say's "I might be able to make it later this afternoon". That’s all I need, a "might be able" commitment is as good as done, Porgy will be getting his junk checked and properly taken care of. At this point I can not take one more day of this drama, hence where their names "Porgy and Bess" came from. Normally we do not name our eatables but this has been a special exception to the rules. The next ones will be called pork and chop, keeping it simple and to the point.The vet arrives a little after 5pm; we corral Porgy into his pig pen, Bess waited outside happily munching on a bowl of grains and treats. Porgy goes down for a little nap time, now the fun begins. Once again, luckily I'm not squeamish, as for Bruce I was waiting for him to pass out on top of Porgy. After assisting the vet with his surgery on (that’s all the detail I dare to give) we are now sure he will be fine, healthy and continue to thrive humanely on our farm. We still have keep watch over him and make sure continues to he heal properly. Our vet's comments in-between the yelling was; how filthy the farm had to be where the pig was kept and how they didn't know what they were doing when they "cut" him. Then while the vet drove away when all was done, he yelled at me where to get our pigs from now; sigh, yes I had already reserved pigs from this recommended farm.You would think I'd have a nervous tick by now….next the cows are coming.

We are Famous! No I was not arrested....again. Last Friday, March 4th, our farm was part of a Local Agriculture Career Day! Check out this link to the Albany Metroland paper: http://metroland.net/2011/03/09/farmers-of-the-future/
I have to say the children were incredible and this is a wonderful program to be a part of. If you know of any school that would like to have a Local Ag Career day, please give them this article. The children are the future for our planet, they need to be aware.ThanksSusie and Bruce

I'm back up on my soap/chicken box today.

I know, I should have more patients with people but I admit it gets to me when people do not seem to be proud of where they are living, not supportive of their local community, neighbors, and businesses or yes farms. This is honestly something that I do not come across very often but the curmudgeons are still out there, waiting to make it obvious we are not worthy of their reclusive fleeting moments in time. Like I said 99% of the people are wonderful but that one, which is always the same one (by coincidence?), just gets my feathers in a twist!
Thank you to all the happy supportive, caring friends, farmers, teachers, chefs, any one who has supported us, other local farms, neighbors and community. As for that one, some day maybe he will come around, step outside his fenced in box and realize what a beautiful expansive variety of friends and businesses that could be a rewarding resource to tap. Is it the need to push anything or one away for fear of being over shadowed; lack of interest, personality, sense of humor? This all stems from an email that was received this morning. YES, we are Famous! Ahem a different email. Only once have I been requested, via email, to remove a person from our mailing list; by now I'm sure you can guess it was Mr. 1%. Imagine, the nerve? It is done, Mr. 1% will no longer be included in our farmy excitement (yes farmy is a word, now), stories and fun updates, his loss. My secret will go with me to the mucky barn, (unless you ask me) I will never divulge Mr. 1%'s secret, sad identity, in are local area. Liza, you know who he is, just think about it.
There, I feel much better, now let's just hope no one mentions "soy" to me today.

Okay now onto less serious things like our Birdie Updates on the farm! We have lots of eggs; the girls are working like crazy. The chickens are laying blue, green, olive, tan, brown, terracotta and of course white eggs. I'm so darn proud of our hens! I swear those girls are working so hard that now and then (mostly all the time) a few fall asleep in their baskets laying an egg: all sprawled out, wings flopped over the edge of the basket, snoring away, spoiled little brats.Speaking of Spoiled, Freebird is on vacation. Freebi and 6 of his select hens are in a very large private suite in the barn. Can you here the music; chicka bow, chicka bow bow, gonna do a little dance make a little …… Freebi and his girls are Easter Eggers and Americana's, which lay those beautiful blue and green eggs. We have had requests for Americana/EE hatching eggs and chicks. When I told this to Free he was all over that. So in about 10 days those eggs will be available for sale and for those who requested chicks the incubators will be loaded!
Duck, Duck, Goose or I should say Gretel, has been faithfully laying her eggs for this springs gosling hatch. Hansel dutifully follows her around, standing guard, protecting her from any other bird that may wattle, zig zag or stumble to close to his Gretel. She has just two things on her mind, where to lay the next egg and what can she beg off of me at the back door. Gretel loves to munch greens, celery, tomatos from my hand while I gently stroke her with my other hand. She is such a sweet gentle sole. Hansel, so far has mangled a chicken (Gladys) and a duckling (one of my speckled twins) to death because they were in Gretel's nesting area… Yikes. Now we keep her nesting area closed off from the main barn to prevent future "accidents"; Gretel and Hansel have their own egress to the outdoor, hopefully no one wanders in through that doorway.
We have our own "Romancing the Egg", "Jewel of the Turkey", "Indiana Cecil and The Kingdom of the Crystal Turkey Egg"; every spring it’s the same old thing, when and where will a turkey egg turn up? Finally it happened this week, not just one new egg but two! Yes two new turkey eggs appeared in a pile of duck eggs, well hidden (or so she thought) in the main barn, what luck. Clarice our youngest hen finally started laying her first teeny tiny turkey eggs. She is such tame sweet girl; who was raised with ducklings, obviously thought she needed to store he tiny first eggs in the duck nest. Luckily for me the nest is in the main barn, easy to find (three foot pile of chips rearranged, neatly every day) and in an area that can be closed off while she broods her babies'. It don’t get no better then that with a Heritage Bourbon Red aka freaking wild turkey! Meanwhile, back home on the range; I'm still searching for Clover and Whisky's eggs or the spot where they could possibly pick to lay them, hide them, store them, darn wild girls, sigh.
Now for the ducks, we have tons of duck eggs, in the incubators, in the fridge, in the nests; be patient grasshoppers, your ducklings are ducklinging (developing). As for the extra fertile eggs, starting Monday, they will be for sale! If you feel the need to hatch your own and have not reserved your eggs yet, please give me a jingle in the jungle, they will be going fast.
Special update, our little special needs duckling we called Spn, has been placed in a home with a few of her sisters. Bruce and I have been so worried about her for months, watching over this poor little almost blind little duckling. Spn spent a lot of time in the barn unless I carried her outside for tub time in the duck pool. Then I would have to bring her back inside, placing her under a heat lamp to dry off. She is the best little girl who now is on a farm where we do not have to worry about her competing with 50 other ducks.
The Guinea's are coming, the guineas are coming, guinea keets that is. Our Guinea hens are laying eggs every day and yes they will be available for sale in about oh lets say 25 days! They are still the ugliest, craziest, birds that make the most ungodly noise and I LOVE Them. LOL
Well, this pretty much covers all the tips of the icebergs. Once again, Thanks for being supportive friends and customers, a little positive energy can go a long way!

p.s. don't forget we are selling at the Schenectady Farmers Market every other Sunday and yes once again at the infamous New Baltimore Summer Farmers Market. The NB Farmers Market is looking for guest appearances, such as Music during the market and Chef demonstrations. You all know who you are, come one and show us your stuff! (contact NBFM Mkt Mngr Hilary Schrauf 424-8701)

Coco
My little Coco is at it again. That black, frizzle bantam has more personality then most people I know. Crap, I'm sure that comment will irritate someone, I'm always in trouble. Well its true, that little hen has quite the attitude. As you know Coco has been spending the cold winter evenings on the sun porch for the over nights. When the days are to cold for her to tolerate it outside, she will then spend the day inside. Coco's feathers are Frizzled, which is very beautiful to look at but not practical to keep a girl warm. All her black luxurious feathers curl backwards giving her the appearance of a walking fluff ball chick with a feather boa. She is bred to perfection and knows it. After all Coco is a show girl, or she seems to think she is.

Lately Coco has decided that she too can live inside our house. Spending days sunbathing on the porch, beating up the other chicks with colds; but this has become mundane to her. It all started about two weeks ago. I arrived home from work and go to check on the sick chicks on the porch. Everyone is happy to see me, I'm the treat lady. I'm doing my check of every one, suddenly I notice Coco is missing. This puts me into a panic. Did a cat decide that tiny bantam would be tasty? Did Pumpkin get to playful and suck all the feathers off poor Coco? Frantically I start searching the porch, then my work kitchen, that’s when I notice a mini chicken poop and a black curly feather in my living room floor. OMG, I figured Pump took her out for a spin and lick in the yard. Calling for Coco, watching Pumpkins for signs of guilt, I'm frantically keep searching the room.

That’s when I hear this little burble answering me. I call out for Coco; again there is a tiny burble, bah bah br. There behind an antique wooden box sat Coco. The little bundle of feathers looks up at me, burbles, stands up, hopped onto the box, down the other side, marching back out to the sun porch, leaving behind two tiny eggs. That little stinker has been sneaking through the porch doorway and laying eggs in my living room! For two days!

That black crazy fuzz ball has been watching the dogs and cats squeezing through the doorway and decided try it. I'm just amazed no one chased her, ate her or her two tiny eggs. This is her second time over wintering in the porch but jeeze? Laying eggs in my living room? Doesn't every one have a chicken running around their living room?

Now when I arrive home from work, I just look for the tiny Coco poo poo trail to see if I need to pick eggs in the house along with the outdoor eggs. Coco has picked her spot and it's behind a box, in my living room, sigh. Even on the days she goes outside, who wants to lay an egg in a cold coop? Not Coco, after all, Chester uses the Chick Chalet as his play house. Everyone knows show girls do not like to share.

Eggs, eggs, eggs! We have lots of eggs available, chicken eggs (in many colors), Duck eggs (3 varieties, Cayuga, Khaki, Muscovy) and quail eggs, as usual, lots and lots of quail eggs. Also this weekend we will be harvesting chickens, again. If any one is interested in a fresh chicken give a call or stop over. I also have freshly frozen chicken, duckling, and quail.

Spring is in the air, it is almost time to collect eggs for hatching. Starting on February 28th, I will have fertilized duck eggs available for sale, weather permitting. Keep your fingers crossed that it isn't to cold to collect viable eggs. If any one is interested in hatching their own, give me a call. We will be setting up our own nesting boxes for the girls plus an incubator. Eggs keep popping up every where; in the yard on the snow or hay, the goose pen, duck pen, middle of the barn floor. The best is the one frozen so hard into the snow, we can't pick it! Hopefully in a week or two they will catch on and lay the eggs in their nesting boxes.

Hansel and Gretel seem very impatient to start their nesting season also. We have noticed goose foot prints on Gretel's wings; it will be time to collect her eggs for hatching soon. Meanwhile Gretel has learned to peek into the house through our plexi-glass dog door, begging for treats. If I do not notice her she then taps on the door, opening it until she has my attention. Gretel loves her greens and knows I'm a sucker for those blue goosy eyes. Any day now we expect to come home and find her in the kitchen, fridge open, noshing on greens.

Our turkeys have not a thought in their head about spring. This has me a little worried but I know it is still early in the year. Cecil and Dinner have been bickering so I know the boys are getting "frisky" but the girls are acting very calm. Clover, Whisky and Clarice rule the roost with those stupid boys following them everywhere, fluffing their feathers, thumping their chests; until I hold out a handful of sunflower seeds. Then its every turkey for them selves, last one to the hand is a rotten egg! I do try to wear gloves when hand feeding them, and then they just try to eat my fingers. So bare hands it is, you get used to the pain. They are gentle giants with very large, pointy beaks.

Clarice my youngest turkey hen was in the house for a few weeks this winter with a cold. If you have seen our house you know we have that sun porch just off my work kitchen. The sun porch is where our bird infirmary/spa is located. Clarice had a blast, eating treats, spoiled rotten, kept nice and warm. Now she is in top condition and back out with her flock. Clarice did have to share the infirmary/spa with a few other girls, one of which was Coco. That is as usual another Coco story all by itself. Anyway a few customers had a chance to see a very tame turkey, close up (understatement). Look into those big beautiful brown eyes, they are amazing creatures.

Coco, has been inside during the over nights for some time now. Most days if it is to cold outside, she will not even go out the door! Then the reign of terror begins. There are four other hens with colds, resting at the spa. Coco beats every one of them up on daily basis to the point where I have to lock her up some days. Luckily today it was warm enough for her fluffiness to go outside. I'm sure there is one heck of a hen party going on in the sun porch today.

All the other farm creatures are doing very well this winter. We have a bunch of new egg layers laying, the dogs are still stealing eggs and Chester has decided the barn is the best place ever to play/hunt.

Welcome February!
Once again, it is snowing, what a surprise. The Chickens hate it, Guineas hate it, Geese hate it, Turkeys hate it, and the ducks don't seem to care. I caught the Cayuga's dashing around the other day, diving through the freshly fallen snow. They were going in circles, diving into it as if it was a foot of water. Suddenly they would jump out of their circle running off upright, tall and straight flapping their wings having had a wonderful snow bath. Of course, I did not have my camera, opportunity missed once again. The black on white would have made a spectacular picture, sigh. I'm sure tomorrow I will have another opportunity for ducks in snow pictures since it is snowing, again.

Aliens From Inner Space

Our yard has been invaded, by creatures from Tim Burton's mind. What is spotted, has a humped back, red tea cup flaps of skin hanging off its face, a white faces, pointy heads and screeched continuously? Those darn Guinea’s in our back yard! Oh look its snowing again.... screech, screech, screech, Oh look it stopped snowing, screech screech, I think you get the idea.

I know, I’ve been stuck home, abandoned with a broken ankle, all by myself but jeepers creepers, do they ever stop? The answer is no, almost no, they only shut up for a few precious hours during the overnight. Now I know why they have always been called the “guard dog of birds”. If one of those ran up to me, red wattles, white head (I’ m talking clown face white), started its screeching, I would run like hell the other way! Guard birds my butt, scary noise birds with looks that match.

Truly only a face a mommy guinea could love.Yet I find myself slowly becoming enamored with their oddness. I’m going to call half of them Tim, the other have Burton! There, it is all settled, like I have said previously you try to come up with names for all our creatures. By the way the Geese are named Hansel and Gretal, I keep forgetting to mention that.

As for my Tim's and Burton's, they have started something new, for the new year. Guinea Love and as far as I can tell, this is the only time two are quiet, while everyone else cheers them on. Sigh, I guess this is one way to figure out girls from boys?

Winter Wonder Land

The Geese still hog the water cooler (heated water) but every now and then they wander off allowing the other birds a chance at it. There are 4 other water stations but every one always wants the same one!

No sooner did the winter solstice take place, the ducks and geese have decided love is in the air. I keep telling them it is to early, wait for spring but it is the same every year. Mr. Quackers is already trying to whisper sweet nothings at Clovers ankles. Clover is our girl turkey and Mr. Quackers is a little confused, he does this every year. Cecil and Dinner our two tom's have the situation under control, ducks can run fast when they have to.

The Guinea's absolutely hate the snow. During every snow storm they perch in the duck pen doorway screaming their brains out the entire day. When the storm is over we give every one snow blown paths and alfalfa piles for munching, lounging and to keep their feet off the snow. After a few days the guineas will venture out into the other pathways enduring the torture of the horrible white stuff. But their screeching starts anew when the next storm hits.

Chester our newest addition and youngest cat is getting a little braver and thinks he may stalk the birds. His idea of stalking is to slink slowly towards the birds while never getting any closer then 50 feet. He is a very brave boy!

This is the time of year that all those fruit and veggie scraps that I froze are thawed out, warmed up and fed to everybody daily along with fresh treats. And people wonder why they are so tame?

The other morning Pumpkin, our orange, young, beagle - shar pei mix picked up a new friend out in the barn yard. Most of you know Pumpkin, she is energetic, friendly, talkative, bossy and orange from the tip of her nose to the end of her tail. If there is something to be gotten into Pump is there. No job is to small for our little Orange-Inator, Monster from the Orange Lagoon, Orange Demon, Yappalina, Princess of the Orange Collar of Shame, your getting the picture now. If Timmy fell in the well, Pumpkin would be the first one to know and run right back to tell us.
Well back to the other morning, there was a small tragedy with one of our young birds, Clucky. Clucky was a young white chicken, that didn’t make it through the night. Bruce found her in the barn, stiff as a board, being the ever vigilante, caring husband (remember I was ditched home alone with a broken ankle) he tossed Clucky into the barn garbage can. Now I’m sure he was going to retrieve her after his chores for a proper burial but we do have at a foot of snow outside, it may have slipped his mind.
Anyway Pumpkin was there, as always to assist with chores. She likes to race through the barn hoping to startle any “mice” out of their hiding places for a good chase. Then its over to the mouse traps where she assists in the mouse removal and disposal out in the field for us, after thorough taste testing. Pumpkin then races back into the barn, bolts upstairs demanding to view those closed off sections of the barn for safety reasons (vermin patrol). On each of these many trips back and forth through the barn at high puppy speeds, the garbage can will get a sniff examination. Hey you never know what might pop up much to her orange delight?
Well as you already know, this is one of Pumpkins lucky days, there is a prize in the can. Okay, its a prize only to Pump but we wont tell her that. The sniff check confirms Pumpkins suspicion. If any one has ever heard a shar pei sniff, you know that they snort when they use their sniffer. Pumpkin being a half breed has the most incredibly loud snorting nose with a sweet beagle face that will crack you up. She also has a very long reach for such a short stubby dog. Her main hobby is “counter surfing”, when she isn’t out searching for dead things.
Back to Clucky, who is now charging out the barn door, in Pumpkins mouth, at high puppy speeds. This incredible prize, a new best friend for Pumpkin was to important to be deposited in the field or anywhere out of her sight. Proper beagle burial was not a option with the ground frozen and a foot of snow. We did however have a few snow banks that did seem to qualify as temporary cold storage/burial places for Clucky.
As the day progressed it slowly became obvious these snow banks and temporary burials were going to be a problem for Pumpkin and Clucky. Clucky actually didn’t seem to mind though so the problem was really for Pumpkin. Every time Pump stuffed Clucky somewhere safe, she went into the house for a nap. Its a tough job to be a farm dogie. When Pump close her eyes all she could see was Max, Jake, one off those bossy cats or dog forbid a beaky faced bird stealing her Clucky away.
Pumpkins eye flew open, she jumps up with a whining grrrwow and runs out to retrieve Clucky, saving her from a fate of being in the clutches one of those other farm animals! This goes on for hours, eventually Pumpkin now driven to wandering the cold, blustery snow covered yard, realized she can never part with Clucky again. It is not worth the risk of losing such a good new found friend. She must find a solution soon or she and Clucky would surely freeze!
Later that day it dawns on me that I have not seen my faithful orange demon for several hours. This little dog does not let me out of her sight for very long if I’m home. She would bound into a room and give a grrrwow, mommy where are you??? I would respond “in here Pumpy” and off she would happily go knowing I was safe from the perils of our farm (except those geese). For my little orange girl to not have checked on me for many hours, something is out of place. Thats when I hear my girl, barking grrrwow from the top of the stairs, in the hall way. Whats up with that, I had no idea she was upstairs?
I get my crutches and hobble to the hallway, I call to Pumpkin “whats up girly? come on downstairs”. She immediately turns waging her orange tail sideways, bolts down the hall to my bedroom. I can hear her jumping on the bed, then off the bed, bolting back down the hall to the top of the stairs. There Pumpkin stands proudly, tail wigwagging, with Clucky in her mouth. She had finally found a safe place to keep Clucky!
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Coco

Coco is in the house!As usual this is a long story but as most of you do not know, I have been home for 3 weeks now with a broken ankle. So here it goes.Tuesday evening , Dec. 21st, the Geese ambushed me in the back yard. I know it was them, they spend the day hanging out at the water cooler, planning how to get out of their Holiday dinner reservations. Splashing, honking, snorting water all over that section of the barn yard, causing small ice slick of water run off across the barn yard. That evening while I was carrying and distributing grains for everyone it happened. I slipped on the slick and went down like a ton of poop, hearing a loud crunching noise. There they were, watching from the “water cooler”, having a gaggle of giggles, okay more like honks at my demise.After I was done screaming, I slowly got up, in denial that the loud crunch I heard was my ankle breaking. Continuing on into the barn, hobbling, there was another loud crunch. Thats when I decided I might go put up my leg with ice on it. I could not possible have broken that stupid bone when there was still so much work to be done for the Holidays! The next morning, when I tried to stand up, I finally knew something might be wrong, Duhhh. Luckily I have a “In” at the Bone and Joint center in Albany, who got me in immediately. Of course Bruce my ever caring and vigilant husband, went to work, left me home alone, with a broken ankle to fend for myself. Yes it is the right foot! Once again luckily my mommy was home and willing to take me up to B&J (I like the sound of that) for my X-ray. Of course with mom you always get two for the price of one, Daddy III must always accompany mom, everywhere. If you don’t know the Daddy’s I, II and III story’s, thats your tough luck! I can explain another time. Yes I’m cranky and bitter, home for 3 weeks, broken..... ughOkay so the good news is broken but does not need to be set, I did that myself in the barn! Bad news it is broken. I get a lovely black boot with metal and velcro. They don’t know me very well and let me out the door with out casting it! I get the this is very rare not to pin or plate the ankle, be careful, stay off it lecture To accessorize my lovely boot, I get matching set of shiny metal crutches. What more could a girl want? After all it is the Holidays?Ah, now I’m back home, the old folks literally ditch me inside the front door and take off. Once again, I’m stranded home alone with a broken ankle. Slowly I park my but in my work kitchen at my table, put the stupid foot/boot thingy up and look out the window, there are those darn geese, looking back at me. How the hell?? They all have reservations and will be picked up on Christmas Eve, along with several ducks and chickens, and it is Wednesday already! This is where Bruce’s misery begins. Each evening, the 22nd and 23rd, Bruce had to harvest the birds himself, deliver them to me and help with their preparation, which he hates to do. But of course, he still goes to work, stranding me home alone with a broken ankle. How many more times do you think I can fit that into this story? Wasn’t there snow also? I vaguely remember there being a snow storm that week, while I was home alone stranded …......Somehow, everyone made it to their Holiday reservation, each evening working like mad people. During the day I’m sitting in my window, thinking that I should start screaming for Norman to come take care of me, propping a stuffed sparrow on my shoulder. Then with all the snow, that makes it impossible to get around,I keep thinking this is how Yuri and Lara felt in Varykino. Sadly I do not like to sit around and I’m not one to watch TV. My window is the view of my world for now. Slowly all the birds have noticed me in my window and know where to beg. I do get a lot of feathered entertainment.One evening a few nights ago, Coco, my black frizzle, Cochin, bantam was marching back and forth in front of our back door screeching. What on earth is her problem thought while I opened the door? She, the once famous sun porch bantam “Coco” had decided the weather was to cold and she needed to spend the evening on her porch. The last time Coco has spend a night with us was last February, 2010 some time. This little miniature chicken remembered her porch, hopped up on the counter, climbed onto a duck cage and went to sleep. In the morning I was awakened to a ungodly screech that echoed through the house. All I could think of is Chester and Coco are not getting along. Coco may become a kitty treat.Slowly I crawl down the stairs, peak into the living room, there is Coco in the middle of the room looking back at me. She promptly turns and heads for the back door, it is time for Coco to leave the building!The ducks were all taken out by Bruce, that is another story and man do ducks stink! But they are all outside and of course there is a sick fluffed up chicken found in the barn, with a runny nose. So the stinkers are swapped out for the sick chick, who is Corny our Dark Cornish hen. Hey you try to find names for all those birds we keep as pets. Corny is set up in a clean cage and has special treats and water to perk her up. We hate to lose any one specially the pets not to mention raising them organic.Coco comes in again, it is another bitter cold evening and I forget to remind that Coco lives in her very own Chick Chalet outside our back door. On those very cold nights she can not generate enough heat to keep her warm all alone in her Chalet. There were more girls in the Chalet but the fox ate them. :(That evening, my mother actually peeled herself away from Daddy III to stop over for a visit, first visit in over week, while I’ve been stranded home alone with a broken ankle. Yes that is the sound of being tossed under the bus, no mercy! I proceed to mention how my Mother in law, now my true mommy has been over almost Every day checking on me. Mom loves Coco, how could any one not. She is soft, silky, friendly and very tame, if she knows you. I can hold, pet, carry her around like a kitten. I’m thinking the old lady cam to visit the darn bird. Coco see’s my mother coming, starts making a not so happy screech noise and gives the old lady the stink eye. God I love that bird! Now I’m actually up to THIS morning, finally. I crawl down the stairs, grab my snazzy crutches and go to see if Coco wants to go outside this morning. Never a dull moment around here. We have had more snow, of course and we all know how happy that makes me! Coco is waiting on her perch, she see’s me and hops down, running to the door to go outside. Slowly I open the door for her, the poor little creature looks up at me like I made all that snow. She gets to the edge of the door jam but there is NO way that girl is hopping into snow that is well over her head. Needless to say, she turns around and heads for her perch. I even tried to take her to the other door, thinking she may want to walk up the path where the dogs walked, joining her brethren. She is such a tame baby, I bring her over and go to put her out the door in the snow. NO deal, Coco jumps mid air, never touching the snow, landing on my arm, runs up, tucks herself under my chin, clinging to me as if she was being tossed into the snows of Siberia. I should have never let her watch Zhivago last winter. Back to the porch we go. Weather I like it or not Coco is spending the day!
-- A chicken doesn't stop scratching just because worms are scarce Grandma Axiom