The Last Summer Post

The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last forever. Even on the most beautiful days in the whole year – the days when summer is changing into autumn – the crickets spread the rumor of sadness and change."

~ E.B. White, Charlotte's Web

Today is the last day of summer, but in truth, it has not felt like summer for a couple of weeks. The stifling heat has relented, the parched ground has been satiated, the crickets have indeed spread word of change, and our carefree days have been replaced with schedules and routine.

A few summer notables:

* My 40th birthday gift from last December is finished and installed at the end of our driveway. We are official now. I could not love it more.

* My beloved, beautiful, tabby cat Digory was hit by a car. 

Thorin and Digory

For 24-hours we thought we were going to be able to save him, but we ended up having to put him down. He was the best farm cat, killing (and often eating) 1-3 critters every day, and he loved me so much he even dropped a squirrel at my feet in the middle of dinner. His favorite place to be was on my shoulder, and I would carry him around as I did my farm chores. True, he was an imfamous chicken killer and we have not lost a single chick or juvenile chicken since he died, so that is just a very faint silver-lining. He would often be absent for days at a time, so I always knew I needed to hold him loosely out here in the country. I just thought he'd go as a wild animal's dinner, not by car. 

I waited exactly one week before going to Salem Friends of Felines to find another cat. (I promised Caleb if anything ever happens to him I will wait significantly longer before replacing him.) Since we just did the kitten thing with Thorin a few months ago, I wasn't super excited to do that again. We ended up with the sweetest 9-month old cat. The kids wanted him even over the adorable kittens because he was an absolute love. 

We named him Huckleberry Finn Williams, and he has yet to catch a single critter (aside from a couple of moths). He may be our lover, while Thorin, who was Digory's protege, is turning into our fierce hunter.

Huck and Thorin have become friends

and bravely protect our driveway.

* For years we have been looking for a cider press. New presses are $600-$1000, which is hard to justify for a once/year use. Occasionally we would find a used one on Craigslist for $200-$300, only to have it slip through our fingers. They always sold extremely quickly and were often too far away for us to get to them in time. I was getting my haircut when I received a text from my dear farm neighbor, who knew of my desire for a cider press. (I speak of these neighbors often, as they have been so generous and gracious in helping us to learn these country ropes.) She sent me a picture and said her husband was at a farm sale and a cider press was $150 and did I want them to buy it for us? BUY IT!!! And they did, and her husband worked them down to $120.

They even did a little internet research on my behalf and determined it was built in 1874. Cleaned up versions are selling for $1,000 on ebay. We may take a sandblaster to the rust at some point... or we may not. We're hoping to press some cider and wine this fall, but even if we never use it, it is a beautiful piece of history. 

*Caleb built a long-dreamed of firepit and we were able to get one fire in before the burn ban took effect. 

Firepits seem to bring out the love in everyone.

*After a very slow start, and despairing that I would have little produce to show for my gardening efforts this year, the last month has seen me canning and freezing and overall, quite pleased with what I've been able to salvage from this unusual year. 

Last year, I took a break from tomatillos because I had so much salsa still from the previous year. But this year the pantry was depleted, so I again planted tomatillos.

I canned salsa verde

and Mexican tomatillo salsa.

 We've decided that we do not care for the texture of blanched, frozen green beans, so I turned all of our excess beans into pickled dilly beans.

 

In September I finally had tomatoes to process. I froze enough for my two girls' birthday dinners next spring and then set about canning salsa and chopped tomatoes. (We still have plenty of marinara.)

We also grew berries, grapes, broccoli, beets, carrots, cucumbers, corn, potatoes, radishes, squash and peas. Most of these were not stellar crops for us this year, but we enjoyed what we had.

As the sun sets on summer, we are thankful for all of God's Good Gifts to us: animals that we love enough to miss when they're gone, friends who generously lend their time and talent for a gift that truly pleases, neighbors who help make dreams come true, and of course, the bounty of our land which will feed us through the coming winter. Welcome, autumn.

A Time for Everything

Hope is tomorrow's veneer over today's disappointment.

~Evan Esar

We started the year with such excitement and high hopes.

In Janurary we purchased a pregnant Irish Dexter named Annabelle with her steer (neutered male) calf.

She was expected to calve in February or March, and we desired to keep a heifer calf (female) to raise and breed or raise a bull calf for beef, along with Annabelle's other boy.
Although Annabelle is 11, we bought her for a good price and hoped to get a couple more calves out of her before allowing her to live out her retirement years in our pasture. She is such a sweetheart and will greedily accept my pets, brushes, and scratches all day long.

A few weeks after purchasing her, she began wheezing, while also having runny eyes and discharge coming from her nose. I waited a while before calling the farm vet, but eventually decided to. When he came out, I casually mentioned that she was due to give birth "any day". He took one look at her and said, "I hate to tell you this, but I don't think she's pregnant." Since he was doing lab work on her anyway, we opted to have a pregnancy test done and indeed, she was not pregnant. I don't believe the prior owners had been dishonest with us. They were lovely people and I do believe she had been with a bull for two months. The vet surmises that at her age her cycles are slowing down and it will take longer for her to get pregnant.

We felt quite foolish for buying this old, un-pregnant cow. She was ultimately diagnosed with lungworm, a treatable parasite, but one which she introduced to our previously-clean pasture, and we therefore had to worm all our animals. We spent $300 on the vet and lab bills, and it was discouraging to think how one thing going wrong with an animal can wipe out any profit a person might have been hoping to make. Not only would we not have a calf to raise and sell for beef, but we had to pay the vet bill, find a way to breed her, and then feed and care for her for the next year before she even calves. We obviously aren't trying to make a living doing this, but I have a huge respect and concern for people who do. The margins are extremely tight, and it is not easy. 


On a much smaller scale, I have realized this truth in raising hens and selling eggs. When hens are young and laying an egg a day in summer we can about break even on paying for feed and keeping a couple dozen per week for ourselves. In the winter when hens lay once or twice per week, or when they turn two and begin to slow down altogether, there is no margin to cover expenses. When a predator takes out two hens at once, hens we have fed and cared for and gotten to a place where they lay daily, it is a great loss. When we have to buy new chicks or medicine or cedar chips to clean out the coop (not to mention the several hundred dollars it cost to build the coop), there is no way to recover that cost. There is only so much we can charge for a dozen eggs. We charge $4/dozen for organic, pastured eggs, which is on the higher end of what people are willing to pay anyway. (Even Costco with their massive buying power charges $3.50.) And though we are certainly not the most efficient egg farmers around, I am mindful that those able to produce and sell eggs for $2/dozen must be scrimping somewhere, most likely on quality feed, animal welfare, and humane practices. (Have you ever watched one of those horrifying industrial-egg-factory videos?) It's all somewhat discouraging and disappointing.

But I will return to the subject of cows. Since we were going to need to bring a bull in for Annabelle, we decided we might as well get one more female cow to breed along with her.

And so we purchased Nutmeg, a red Irish Dexter heifer (a female that has never given birth - I define terms because it has taken me a long while to understand them myself). Now, six months later, we are still attempting to track down an Irish Dexter bull to breed them both. A woman has kindly offered to pasture them with her herd, which includes a bull, for a couple of months this summer and we will likely take her up on that. If that doesn't work out, we have the number of two different people who offer AI (artificial insemination) services.

Another major disappointment has been the ordeal of breeding our goats. We purchased a buck (un-neutered male) in January, went to the expense of registering him with the USDGA (United States Dairy Goats Association) because our doelings (females who have never given birth) are purebred and we wanted to be able to sell our kids as purebred registered Nigerian Dwarfs. We also had a vet tech out to do disease testing on our girls and the buck because when purchasing kids, many people want certification that they come from a clean herd. Nigerian Dwarfs usually have between 2-4 kids per litter, so we were expecting to have several kids to sell. 

After Westley did his job, we were quite ready to send him on to his next home. We then noticed that a large population on Homesteader's Classifieds (a Facebook group we belong to) were trying to unload Nigerian Dwarf bucks much cuter than ours and no one wanted to buy them. We became worried that we would be stuck with this stinky, horny goat, so when his previous owners offered to take him back (because they really did love him), but not refund our money, we readily accepted. We chalked the purchase price up to a "stud fee". 

Elinor

Five months passed and Elinor's due date approached. She was confirmed pregnant by a test we had the vet tech do when she was here for disease testing. Ten days prior to d-day, she began having discharge that, from all my internet research, did not look healthy or normal. I was fairly certain that she was miscarrying but being completely new to this realm of animal husbandry, I was at a loss as to what to do and was worried about Elinor's health as well. Our farm vet came out for an emergency call on a Sunday and extricated a single very under-developed fetus. So, so disappointing. 

We had thought our farm would be abounding with new life this Spring, but it has not been so. Our very last hope for a baby lies in Marianne. She was not confirmed pregnant by the test because she would not have been far enough along. She is the tiniest thing and we are all a bit suspicious that there could even be a baby in there. If there is, it's likely only one. So our goat venture has cost about $600, a lot of hassle, and may not amount to anything. 

Marianne

The disappointments in the Little House book series are truly heartbreaking. I often think with amazement of Pa because no matter what calamity befell his family - plagues of locust, ruined crops, months-long blizzards, being forced off his homestead by changing boundaries - he began again, and with a twinkle in his eye. "There is no great loss without some small gain" was a common Ingalls Family saying. Our losses and disappointments are absurdly minor compared to theirs and to those of many others. 

The barnyard on a summer afternoon is about the most peaceful place that exists. All is still and quiet, as the chickens dust bathe in the shade, the goats snooze on their wooden wall, the cows lounge under trees to avoid the flies and heat. Recently I strolled out one blazing afternoon, and it was all so good and beautiful on our property that I couldn't even conjure up those disappointed feelings I had felt two-weeks prior when I held a screaming, trembling goat with tears streaming down my face. 

There is a time for everything,

    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

 a time to be born and a time to die,

    a time to plant and a time to uproot,

    a time to kill and a time to heal,

    a time to tear down and a time to build,

    a time to weep and a time to laugh,

    a time to mourn and a time to dance,

    a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

     a time to search and a time to give up,

    a time to keep and a time to throw away,

   a time to tear and a time to mend,

    a time to be silent and a time to speak,

   a time to love and a time to hate,

    a time for war and a time for peace.

~Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

What else can you do but joyfully and resolutely move forward?

Spring Scenes: A Photojournal

Blows the thaw-wind pleasantly,

Drips the soaking rain,

By fits looks down the waking sun:

Young grass springs on the plain;

Young leaves clothe early hedgerow trees;

Seeds, and roots, and stones of fruits,

Swollen with sap put forth their shoots;

Curled-headed ferns sprout in the lane;

Birds sing and pair again.

~ Christina Rossetti, Spring

New hope

New paths

New growth

New potential

New life

New animals

New friends

New plans

New beauty

New vision

There is no time like Spring,

When life's alive in everything,

Before new nestlings sing,

Before cleft swallows speed their journey back

Along the trackless track--

God guides their wing,

He spreads their table that they nothing lack,--

Before the daisy grows a common flower,

Before the sun has power

To scorch the world up in his noontide hour.

~Christina Rossetti, Spring

Chicken Troubles

Recently a friend mentioned that her friend who raises many different animals commented that of all of her animals, chickens are the most trouble - there is always something going on with them! I stopped and pondered.... I hadn't really thought about it that way, but goats, cows, dogs, cats, goldfish.... we hardly ever deal with them at all. But chickens... yes, it is always something. And yesterday, as Caleb and I strolled back from evening chores, which included searching seven different spots for eggs and debating how to deal with the broody hen nesting in the barn, he mused, "Chickens sure use up a lot of brain power."

It is so true. If they aren't broody (chickens wanting to do nothing but hatch eggs), they are pecking at each other (I had to spray Blu-Kote on a victim's bloodied comb to prevent other chickens from pecking it to death) or nursing pecking injuries (I struggled to figure out why one chicken's eye was swollen shut and pussy, but finally determined it was a pecking injury and repeatedly wiped the puss away until it was healed). They decide to sleep in the nesting boxes and fill them with poop so that no one will lay eggs in them and we must search the aforementioned seven laying spots in the barn for eggs. (We've just given up and boarded up the boxes so no one can use them for any purpose.)  They get worms (I researched and administered safe worming medications) and they will stop laying at the slightest provocation... a stormy day, introducing new chickens into the flock, molting (shedding feathers and getting new ones), daylight waning, broodiness, and just general moodiness that in my humanness I am not adept at understanding. 

Since I've mentioned broodiness three times already in this post, l'll start there. Last summer we had a revolving door of continuously broody chickens. I've talked about this before, but a broody chicken wants to hatch eggs, as God designed her to do. So she will stash eggs in a nest, pluck out her breast feathers to make it soft, and sit... and sit... and sit, getting off the nest once per day to drink and eat. In the natural order of things, she would sit for 21 days and hatch her eggs (providing she had been around a rooster and her eggs were fertilized). Since our girls have not, they will stop laying eggs and sit until they starve themselves to death, even if we take all the eggs out from under them, which we always do. The only cure is to put them in the broody buster or let them hatch eggs. They will not snap out of it on their own. (A few of our hens have never gone broody because their breeds have had the trait bred out of them, as it is very inconvenient for commercial egg production. But the breeds that do go broody are always repeat offenders.) One matronly Wyandotte wanted so badly to be a mama that we decided to let her realize the dream. I bought a dozen fertilized eggs on Craigslist for $10, stuck them under her, and 21 days later we had seven adorable chicks. (A couple of eggs disappeared in the process and three were duds.)

It was a delight to keep vigil at the barn and watch chick after chick break out of its shell and peek out of mama's wings. 

She was an excellent mother and had them foraging within days of hatching. She kept them warm (they slept under her wings) and safe (you should have seen the tussle when our poor cat inadvertently crossed her path) and fed. After raising chicks by hand, which included feeding, watering, sheltering, and constantly monitoring the heat lamp for proper temperature, we were amazed at the ease of this process. Why do all that work when a mama hen will do it for you? I don't think we'll ever go back!

All seven chicks made it about 10 weeks and then two were picked off on the same day by an unknown predator. They simply disappeared, one in the morning, another in the afternoon. But the remaining five are still alive and well... for the time being. This brings me to the next chicken trouble.

When you buy chicks at the store, they are sexed with a 90% success rate. And even though we bought twelve chicks, none of them were roosters. Hatching eggs is a game of odds, and unfortunately they were not in our favor. Out of five surviving chicks, three were roosters. We had been told if we were going to eat them, we needed to do it within about 3-4 months, before they started crowing. Any older and their flavor is very strong and unappetizing. Well, with the holidays and everything else, time got away from us and they began crowing. (We cannot hear them from the house, so honestly that part of it is not too bad, though for the life of me, I cannot figure out a pattern or purpose to their crowing.) 

RIP, Diana and Anne

People keep roosters because they fertilize eggs and often protect the hens from predators. One rooster per ten hens is said to be an appropriate ratio. Since we have 20 hens, we thought keeping two might be a reasonable idea. We had lost several hens to predators (including the mama that hatched all those chicks) and since having the roosters, we had not lost any so we were warming up to the idea. But we are going through feed at an unbelievable rate (these roosters are 2-3 times the size of the hens and that organic feed is expensive) and then just last week, my most beloved chickens, Annes Shirley and Diana Barry went down together against an unknown predator. And just where were those three well-fed roosters??? 

It's on the "To Do" list, so now it's official. The roosters have got to go.

However, we have made use of (temporarily) having roosters on the premises and are letting another broody sit on our very own fertilized eggs. 

One of the chicks we hatched is now
sitting on her own clutch of eggs.

The chicks will be a crazy "barnyard mix" since we have mixed breed roosters that are different from all of our hens' breeds. But we'll see how it goes. Perhaps we'll actually get around to eating the cockerels this time and will be able to add "meat chickens" to our list of homesteading accomplishments. 

I actually have not fully aired my list of chicken grievances but this post is long enough, and I concur whole-heartedly with the person who said that chickens are the most trouble. But I have to add that they are also the most endearing, entertaining, and fun, and those bright yellow yolks in farm fresh eggs are more than enough reward for our trouble.

A Country Christmas and Six-Months Home

The term Country Christmas embodies all of the beauty and sentimental notions and longings I have about the Christmas season. 

I have visions of rustic barns amid snow-covered fields, 

handmade gifts, 

hospitality, 

and decorations that bring the outdoors in. 

But like all idealized things, perpetuated by Pinterest and blogs, snapshots and songs, the season can never fully live up to the ideal. We have the barn, but nary a flake of snow, and I only managed to finish two knit dishcloths for one friend. We felt busy and tired, and at times, grumpy and dull. However, the season was still beautiful and warm, and best of all, real. 

Friends and family gathered, 

our fire blazed warm and bright (even if it is propane), 

we had quiet moments of reflection (at least one that I can remember),

 

moments of excitement and chaos (many, many more of those),

but most importantly, Jesus was celebrated. 

The greatest miracle of all time is that God so loves us and so desires to redeem us that He sent his Son, who is fully God, to put on a mantle of flesh and dwell with us, the Word made flesh, God With Us, Immanuel. 

Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: 

The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, 

and will call him Immanuel.

~Isaiah 7:14

The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, 

and they will call him Immanuel (which means “God with us”).

~Matthew 1:23

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. 

We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, 

who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

~John 1:14

Since Christmas Day is for celebrating miracles, it seems fitting that also on this day we celebrated six-months home with Graham Jeffrey. He woke up a little grumpy, but soon warmed up.

Caleb and I were profoundly struck by how many stockings hung from our mantel this year.  (That, and the fact that we are profoundly outnumbered.) What a sweet love this little boy is. Graham has blended right into our family as though that spot was just waiting for him. I believe it was. He is smart, sweet, funny, and mellow (a welcome trait in a fifth child, particularly a child that follows our Firecracker Rosie). He has grown and changed so much and is finding his two year-old will and voice, which I often must remind myself is good and healthy.  

Next week, new animals are being delivered to our farm and seed catalogs are already arriving in the mail. The hope and promise of a New Year await.