Yard Work

While I was doing a little yard work look what I raked up. There is no such thing as "a little yard work" on our farm. I'm very much Anti-Pooh which means we have to clean up "behind" everyone continuously. It is all worth while; knowing all our creatures have a clean, well fed, humane life style. Maybe a little to much "style" is going on some days, which is the fun part of our farm.

A New Crib for my Peeps

Lola, Zelda and Coco love their new Chick Chalet. Here you can see Lola doing a little gardening on her front porch. They have not had time to finish painting yet but they love the lime color on the one side that is painted. The interior is finished off in early wood chips with a roosting post and cathedral ceiling for ventilation on those hot summer days. The new heating system will keep them toasty warm in the winter also.
A few of the other hens are a little jealous but every now and then a hen will pay a unexpected visit to the Chalet, squeeze through the door and leave a house warming gift behind!

Goslings are 5 weeks old today

Our giant little babies are growin up fast. They still come running to us chirping with an occasional honk.

Bailey, the Buck mid night special

Wednesday evening 04-28-10, we lost a special member of our family, Bailey Frank Petramale Kliese. Bailey passed on to puppy heaven, a place where dogs are forever young and bones are plentiful.
Bailey's age has always been a controversy at every family gathering of the Petramale's. The only age we are positive of is that he was old and getting older. One time while I was at the vet with Bailey during a routine exam, I had mentioned how no one wants to ever play with Bailey any more except Bruce and I. The Doc explained that since he was so old, it would be like taking some ones 105 year old grandmother out to play and hope not to break her. I think It finally sank in how old he was.

It all started about 10 years ago when I met Bruce. He was renting a room from his sister in her house. She moved in with her boyfriend, leaving Bruce to tend to the dog and cat. Bailey
Frank was the dog and Tounces the driving cat was the cat. Bailey was what we called a "Buck Midnight Special". Bruce's cousin Ding had a old dog named Buck. Buck got around Athens, procreating younger versions of himself. Hence Bailey, a lab mix, the result of one of Bucks evening runs through town with the lady dogs.
The first time I met Bailey I fell in love with him and maybe Bruce too. Bailey was a slightly crazy dog with a lot of pent up energy that needed releasing. He would bark, run and act like a crazy dog all the time. Suddenly Bruce had to go into the hospital, instead of running between two houses, taking care of dogs, I brought Bailey to my house. My yard was fenced for my two dogs, K-K and Sasha. My only issue was getting Bailey accepted by Sasha or Cujo as I fondly called her. Sasha tolerated Bailey, and he was in heaven, running in and out through the dog doors doing laps around the yard. Every now and then there would be a cat chasing problem, but how else would I find out a cat can run sideways on a wood fence. I honestly didn't think something like that was possible but I guess with claws, it can be done.

Another one of Baileys issues was bolting out the front door. Every time we had company, they would open the door, Bailey would plow them over and take off up the street. Bruce or I would have to jump into the car and hope to keep him in our sites. If we could get close enough, we would attempt to entice Bailey to get in the car. Car rides ruled over anything. Bailey would sit in the back seat, head hanging out the window, biting the air the whole ride.

Eventually Bailey fit into my household of creatures as if he was born and raised there. He calmed down, the escape issues lessened and he learned not to chase the cats as much. He still barked like crazy at anything he could.

We had the opportunity to purchased the farm house where we currently live, we needed a bigger yard for our puppy's and this was the dream house we both always wanted. Now the dogs, have a 1 acre fenced in yard to run wild in.

K-K and Sasha are gone now, we still have Jake, who is 15, Max, who is 5 or 6 and Pumpkin who is 2 1/2.

For the past 5 years, Bailey and his age has been one of our topics of discussion. He's turning 17, no 18, no 19??? Who knows for sure? We are only sure of one thing, he was old and had a long, happy life with us. Bailey will be missed greatly by Bruce and I along with the lives of other people he has touched, licked and sniffed.

Turkey Chicks!

Much to our surprise, Clover had 11 chicks hatch on 04-30-10. We did not realize she had that many eggs stashed under her. So far she has been a very good mother. Cecil the dad spends the day guarding her and his chicks. He thumps his chest, fluffs his feathers and stomps his feet. Bruce thought he was having a seizure until I explained he is working very hard guarding her and the brood.

Going to the Salon

My first trip to the "Salon" with 20 birds was a tense experience. First of all I have to drive out to the mountains with the prospect of going to this place alone. The 20 birds in the back of the truck do not count as company. After a few of my experiences driving to other farms for birds, lets just say I'm a little leery, to say the least. Of course Bruce was not helpful at all. He is winding me up by telling me to "be prepared for the smell". What the heck does he mean, farm smell, animal smell, red neck smell? So now I'm picturing crazy people out of the Chain Saw Massacre movie, running around with hatchets. There would be animal bodies all over the place part and pieces here and there. He calms me down and tells me that he meant farm poopy smell.

Well what the heck, I'm used to that, so off I go to the Salon. I finally arrive at the Salon, which could pass for a combination of Deliverance and Texas Chain Saw Massacre without the body or animal parts in piles. Getting out of my truck I notice a flock of 20 or 30 geese looking at me. These were big huge white geese, all watching me very closely. The building that I need to go into is past the geese, which can be aggressive. Slowly I stroll past these creatures, talking nicely to them like that might help. Suddenly a very large Pig, from out of no where runs up to me. I don't know if you have ever seen a very large pig, person to person, without a pen, to separate you from it, I do not recommend it. Mr. Piggy came up to my waist, now the geese do not seem so bad, they don't have teeth. This behemoth sniffed me, gives a snort and goes oinking away. Now I'm almost to the building and can see nearest door that looks like it might open. The other door I just passed walking with Mr. Piggy had a lock on it.

Finally I get inside the building. It is a small room with a furnace, a door and no one in sight. Usually I'm not the type to panic but I hate going to strange places alone, especially in the mountains, on a farm, with lots of animals that could make all your body parts disappear easily. I have no choice but to go thru the next door. This door leads to a long hallway with more closed doors, oh joy. I choose to go left, entering the farthest door on my right. I'm in the right building this is the room where the animals are kept until the salon is ready for them. Now I start to relax, this is interesting, all stainless steel equipment. I start to back track to pick another door, I'm getting brave now and I can finally hear voices. Slowly I walk up to the door I picked and call out, no one answers, so I knock on it. Still there is no answer so what the heck I just open the door and peeked in. There were three men smoking and telling jokes, I walk in and introduce myself. The big guy who seems to be running the show promptly tells me to leave my birds and come back later. They will not have a chance to process them until much later in the day, telling me "that’s what your husband always does".

Now I know this is a lie, Bruce has never let out birds out of his sight. We have been warned that certain facilities will switch out the birds after they have been processed with birds of a lesser quality. Our birds are raised humanely, with an organic soy-free diet in a very well cared for environment. Most other farms do not take the care to do this, no matter what they are advertising. Believe me, we have seen these farms first hand and this place was one of them.


So now I have to act blond and yes it does help that I am a blond. Responding to Porky (the man) I tell him that "it was such a long drive, I'll just wait in my truck until he has the time to process my birds". I did bring a book with me just in case this did happen to me. Bruce warned me that he would try to convince me to leave the birds on the farm, unattended. The other two men in the room start to grumble how none of the other customers for the day have shown up yet, so why not start on my order first? Porky starts to grumble along with them and after a few minutes of this crap, he decides to process my birds first. Imagine that, I'm the only customer there (which is not comforting to me at all) and suddenly he can now process my birds first, especially after I told him that I was not leaving and would wait for them.

While cursing Bruce under my breath, I now have to figure out how to unload one hundred pounds of birds by my self. I decide to ask one of the less scary looking guys, who agrees happily to help me. Okay, I'm feeling a bit better, the first step, third steps or what ever steps are done. I've made it to the farm, made into the building, alive and now the birds are unloaded. I just have to get through the actual "processing".
The two nicer guys are the ones who do the all the dirty work, Porky keeps to him self in is room acting important. I stuck it out all the way through the whole procedure. The rooms are all cement, stainless steel and clean. The two men do a fast and excellent job, telling me how great and healthy my birds look. This I thought was a harmless comment, later I found out my response led to much entertainment for all three of them. Stupidly, I thanked them for their comments about my birds. Then I mentioned the care and feed for our birds is important to achieve the quality of flavor that our customers expect. Yes I know I'm stupid to even attempt to get this point across to these three people, in the mountains, on a farm from deliverance, where I am the only female or so I thought.

Our birds are all done, bagged, legally weighed and now I have to get the coolers out of my truck and pack them in ice for the ride home. While I'm searching to for the ice machine, much to my surprise I run into a woman working in this place. She was also out of the Chain Saw Massacre movie or was it Deliverance, I'm not sure. She was very nice and pleasant offering to help me fill the coolers with ice, as she cackled with her cigarette charred voice. This was nice to be offered help, by this point I just needed to run, run fast away and go home. The white hair, almost died a color that matched my hair color, didn't bother me too much. The missing teeth, okay, I can deal with that also, but the cigarette voice with the Long Island accent and finding out this old woman was my age, was too much. I loaded my coolers into the truck as if I was lifting empty coolers, slammed the tailgate closed ran back inside to pay Porky.

As I skidded to a stop outside the office door to catch my breath I could hear Porky and his two employees making jokes about special "flavor injections". OMG I know what they are really hinting at and now I have to go in there to pay Porky who is laughing over his lewd jokes at my expense. Now I'm really cursing Bruce out, in figuring that they will never find my body and CSI will have to be called in. Calmly I barge into the office, pretend not to know what they are talking about and ask how much I owe, pay my bill and bolt for the door. Mean while they are still making jokes and laughing harder, thinking that the stupid blond woman does not get their hilarious comments. The worst part is I do understand everything they are saying and I am a natural strawberry blond, this sucks and I'm at a dead run for my truck. Jumping into the cab I lock the doors, start the truck back it up and almost run over a strange little man driving one of those old diesel rabbits. I don't care if I have drive over the top of him, I keep moving, he stops and I swerve around the car and take off out the driveway. All I can think of is next time, if I ever have to come to this hell place again, I'm bringing my mommy with me, that way they can have two bodies to look for when they call in CSI.

Now the good part, much too every ones relief, we have a new salon to take our birds for processing. This facility is on a nice clean family run farm. No rude remarks, only intelligent, polite conversation with kind people who love their, farm, children, work and life. Some things happen for a reason, even if it is hard to see at first.

If any one would like more information about which markets are supplied by this farm, let me know. You will be shocked.

Chicken Poop Adventures

(Pepi)

(Lucy in her broody trance)
Chicken poop adventures are a daily occurrence for me. Every time I go to collect eggs, I have to crawl under one of the roosting poles to get into the nesting coop. There is usually at least one chicken and a turkey roosting on that pole. The whole time I'm telling them "don't poop on my head, don't poop on my head". Then in the coop I have to reach down under another roosting pole with 1/2 dozen chickens sleeping on it. This is the "big girl coop". While I start the chant again, "please don't poop on my head", I'm reaching into the nesting boxes, feeling for eggs, sometimes under a sleeping chicken. Many times the first thing I grab is not the prize I'm looking for.
In the last nesting box sits Lucy, my little red Cochin bantam. Maybe there will be one or two stray eggs in another nesting box where Harriet is sleeping, but the majority of eggs are laid in one sacred bottom box. Every day the girls line up 3 to 4 deep waiting to enter this sacred box. The ruckus this causes in the coop can be heard in the house with all the doors closed. Once all the eggs have been deposited, Lucy then parks herself in this box for the night hoping to claim all the eggs for her self.
I start poking around under Lucy removing 3, 4, 5 sometimes 12 eggs from beneath this tiny bird. She gives me a little peck and a squeaky protest but falls right back to sleep, egg less. The fun begins when I start out of the coop, banging my head on the poop encrusted roosting pole, where a giant turkey is resting. The turkey gives me the stink eye for the disturbance. I curse leaving the pen knowing that my day is now complete. The birds are fed, eggs picked and the poop is in my hair again….
To top off the whole daily routine of poop in my hair, that darn Bantam rooster Pepi bounces off my butt, while I'm doing the crawl into the big girls coop, then runs like hell. As if bumping my head into the poopy roost isn't enough I have Pepi jumping me when ever he can. The results of Pepi's behavior dooms him to spend time under my arm while I'm doing my barn chores. Supposedly this will show him who is boss???? Not working yet.