Autumn Wrap-Up

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;

Lengthen night and shorten day!

Every leaf speaks bliss to me,

Fluttering from the autumn tree...

~Emily Brontë

With five days left in Autumn, and bare branches and Christmas carols evoking winter, life has settled into a slowed pace here at Good Gifts Farm. The vegetable garden is completely finished and cleaned up. Apples and pears are all harvested or fallen. The chickens put themselves to bed at 4:30, as daylight wanes. In the past month I have read a thick book and knitted a hat, two of my favorite activities that I had not done in months. Before I settle in for my long winter's nap (I have four kids, so you know I am speaking metaphorically), I wanted to reflect on some of the Autumn happenings around here that bridged the gap between Summer Harvest and Winter Rest.

Goodbye Doctor-Scrubs-Green, Forever! 

The previous owner had an affinity for green. The house shutters and front door were sea-foam green, and all outbuildings (two barns, 2 animal shelters, a shed, and the enormous shop) were a green my mom aptly dubbed "doctor-scrubs-green". It was a "not-found-in-nature" green and competed with the lovely God-ordained greens of grass and tree. We quickly painted the front door and shutters black. Next, the shop was painted the same color as our house: Benjamin Moore's "Straw". But the outbuildings remained. I bought several samples of red in the hopes of finding just the right, rusty, old-fashioned barn red. I agonized but finally selected what I thought was the best option. When I went to purchase it at Home Depot, I mentioned to the paint clerk that it was for a barn. He said, "Oh, I know just what you want." He led me over to Behr 5 gallon buckets called "Barn Red". They are the classic, rusty barn red, mixed just for outbuildings, and are half the price of their other paints. I am SO pleased with how it turned out, and I can now check "Have a red barn" off my Dream List.  

My Red Barn

This early riser likes to help feed the cows.

We had a family picture shoot on our property and the new barn made a splendid backdrop.

The lower barn received a red face-lift as well, and the two animal shelters were painted a pleasant, unobtrusive chocolate brown. The last remaining vestige of green was the chicken coop. While we hired a (terrific, hard-working, reasonably priced - let me know if you want his number) man to paint everything else, Caleb and I thought it would be fun to let the kids help us paint the chicken coop. (And by "fun", I mean "extremely stressful". With four kids wielding paint brushes, there were many drips and messes and spills, but I kept reminding myself that it is only a chicken coop. And I also mandated that only adults could paint the white trim.) 

I love how cheerful and bright our yellow chicken coop is.

It just seems to be smiling at me through the apple trees.

Apples 

My favorite canning recipe books

We have six apple trees but only four have fruited the past two years: two Red Delicious and two Golden Delicious. We have managed to use nearly all of the fruit they have offered, with the exception of giving some away, and letting some hit the ground at the end of the season when I was just DONE with apples. The ways we used them:

* applesauce

* apple butter

* apple leather

* dehydrated apples

I ended up with 75 quarts of applesauce and 40 pints of apple butter. I know that sounds like a lot, but  considering there are 52 weeks in a year and my family uses a quart of applesauce in one sitting, it really only works out to about a jar and a half every week. My favorite tried and true method for making applesauce and apple butter was shared with me by my friend Kristina, and it is brilliant. (I know good bloggers would have step-by-step pictures at this point, but honestly, the last thing that crosses my mind when I am elbow-deep in sticky sweetness is getting the camera out.) 

For applesauce: Fill a huge stockpot (I usually have at least two going at once) with quartered apples. Do not core. Do not peel. Cover apples with water and boil about 20 minutes or until they begin to be very soft. Run apples through a food mill. I have this one for my Kitchenaid mixer and it amazes me every time I use it. It spits out all the peels and cores and produces the most perfectly textured applesauce I've ever tasted. I usually add a cup of sugar to the huge pot of applesauce but it is not necessary. I repeat this process a few time throughout the day until I have tons of applesauce that I can at once. 

For apple butter: Fill a crockpot (or two) with peeled, sliced apples and add two cups sugar and 1 Tbs cinnamon. Let simmer on low all day, stirring occasionally. Sometimes I turn it up to high for a couple hours to speed it up, and sometimes I will let it simmer with the lid off to thicken it up. I puree the apple butter in a blender before canning it because that is the texture I prefer, but you can leave it chunky too. I always have apple butter going at the same time I am making applesauce because I throw all the cores and peels into the pot I'm boiling apples in. There is a lot of flesh on the cores and peels that the food mill will pull off. I don't want to waste any of that apple goodness. We use apple butter in apple butter pancakes, apple butter muffins, and by heaping scoops into our oatmeal. 

At the end of this process I have two huge bowls of compressed stems, seeds, cores and peels. We feed them to the cows who go crazy for them. So truly, NOTHING is wasted.

For apple leather: I make applesauce and then Caleb, who is in charge of all dehydrating procedures, spreads it on trays and pops it in the dehydrator for 8 hours. He wraps it in saran wrap and cuts it into strips and rolls them up. They keep for a couple of months.

Dried apples: Caleb cores and thinly slices apples and dehydrates them for 8 hours. We ended up with two huge glass jars full of apple slices that the kids delight to dip into for snacks. I'd estimate we dried around 50-60 apples. 

A note about dehydrators: We own this 5 tray Excalibur dehydrator and it's fantastic. But we have a lot of fruit and vegetables to process, so a friend mentioned that her Grandma was moving into a retirement home and was ready to part with the dehydrator that her son (my friend's dad) had made her 30+ years ago. She said, "It's pretty big, definitely not a countertop operation, but it works great." We jumped at the chance to own something so functional and so completely awesome. It looks exactly like something Mother Earth News would give instructions on how to make. We love the history, the fact that it's homemade, and that it does work great. (It definitely is NOT a counter-top operation. We keep this beast in the garage.) Between the two of them, we accomplish some serious dehydrating.

Pears

We have two pear trees that, though small, produce quite well. Call me greedy, but I also approached my neighbor about getting some of her unused pears. I wanted to make sure I had enough. They were very glad to give us some, so the kids and I walked down to pick. These neighbors are so kind to us. You may remember they called to tell us our cows were too skinny last winter, which we were very thankful to know. They helped us castrate our bulls. They have given countless recommendations and pieces of advice from their decades of experience with animals. They never make us feel stupid or laugh at us. (At least not to our faces and I would certainly not fault them for chuckling at us in private. I would chuckle at us in private.) And they let us pick their pears and then gave us a ride home in their Ranger. 

 The ways we used pears:

* pear sauce - ended up with 15 quarts. It is SO good.

* pear butter - 15 pints. This is my favorite thing I can. I'm not sure I can describe how good it is, but here goes... It is velvety, rich, and tastes more like a pear than a pear, if that makes sense. Pear skins are soft enough that they need not be peeled, making it easier to make and more nutritious. I use the recipe from Food in Jars.

* pear leather - same process as apple

* dried pears - Rosie calls these candy. They are so incredibly sweet and I eat a couple of handfuls everyday from our huge glass jar. Sadly, the jar is depleting rather fast.

* pear vanilla bean jam - recipe from the Food in Jars blog. This is the most amazing jam I've ever tasted 

Cows and Calves

Our pasture stopped growing, turned brown, and died in July. Rather than us buying hay, those kind neighbors I mentioned earlier offered to have our two mamas, Stripe and Splotch, and their two babies, Mask and Goggles, come graze (and live) on their 30 acres. They did not have any cows and their pasture needed to be mowed. It totally made sense for us to do this, but we missed watching the calves grow. The way our properties are situated, we could not see them at all. Our pastures seemed so empty and it depressed me a little. Everything began to green up in September after some Autumn rains and then we purchased our supply of winter hay, so we were able to get them back. We were all happy to see their simple little faces back on this side of the fence. My neighbor blames us, saying that she had to go and purchase two calves of her own because she missed ours so much. They are beautiful boys - the mahogany of their hides is stunning.

Winter, Come 

We are ready. Our barns are full of hay. My pantry is full of canned and dry goods (after my first trip to Bob's Redmill Store in Oregon City - I was in heaven). My cellar is full of butternut squash. My freezer is full of marionberries, raspberries, peaches, blueberries, beef, and many other provisions. We are thankful to God for all of it, for we do not forget the Hand that feeds us. All of these are His good gifts to us. 

Merry Christmas, Friends.

Chicken Odds and Ends (Plus, a Binding Promise)

Odds

While on vacation this summer, my sweet niece who was house-sitting, had to deal with our first chicken death. She called to tell us that Daisy, our California White Leghorn was bloody. I told her not to worry because that happened to her a lot and she's always fine (she has been poked by our barbed-wire fence numerous times) but this time, within a few hours she was dead. Britton and I were pretty sad. She was a favorite of ours and our best layer. Her daily egg, which was our only white one, is greatly missed.

We were now at 11 chickens and I had already decided that I wanted to increase our flock. We enjoy selling eggs to friends (we could sell them five times over, probably) and I want to make sure our family has enough this winter when their production will greatly decrease. My goal was to purchase juvenile chickens who were close to laying so that we didn't have to start all over with chicks. I scoured Craigslist daily and found a man in the hills 30 minutes west of us, selling 16 week old chickens. Purchasing four, they would only be $12.50 each. I think, considering how much feed costs for those first 16 weeks, we about broke even on what it would have cost to purchase and raise chicks. Plus, he did all the work for us! We selected two Blue Andalusians and two Barred Rock, new breeds to us. 

I have read horror stories of people's whole flocks being killed off by introducing new chickens carrying diseases. All wisdom said to quarantine the new birds for 2-4 weeks to make sure they were not ill. I found a small coop on Craigslist for $100 that we could put in the chicken pasture, allowing  the new chickens to get used to each other in a safe way. We reasoned that it would be nice to have an extra coop anyway for quarantining sick or injured birds, or for placing in the garden so that chickens can till up the soil and eat over-wintering pests in the dirt. This coop was the complete opposite direction from the chickens (45 minutes east) and we could not get out there for a couple days, so in the interim the new chickens lived in a barn stall. 

Digory: Ruthless chicken killer? You be the judge.

Returning home with the coop, we went straight to the barn to retrieve the new chickens and move them into their new home. But wait, only three chickens awaited us. The barn door was cracked open and a small pile of silver feathers laid in front of it. A crime scene but no body. (Maybe that was for the best.) We were disappointed, but only because of the loss of egg-laying potential (and $12.50). We were certainly not yet attached to the chicken itself. What most concerned us, was that our sweet 6 month old kitten, Digory, was also missing. He always runs out to greet us and is never gone for long periods of time. By bedtime that night, I was all but certain he had been a coyote's appetizer before the chicken dinner. Britton was completely devastated and we were praying those prayers that, as a parent, you worry you are going to have to explain why God didn't answer. Honestly, I shed a few tears myself because Digory is the best cat EVER. And then, about 10 o'clock, Digory waltzed up like nothing was amiss and headed straight to bed. Now what you should know about Digory is that by four in the afternoon he starts harassing us to feed him dinner. And then first thing in the morning he loudly complains until we feed him breakfast. This night, that cat went straight to bed and did not eat until noon the next day. The chicken was about the same size as Digory, so it's hard to reconcile. But I have my suspicions. His obsession with the chickens in the following days did nothing to alleviate them:

Ends

We noticed that one of our Silver Wyandottes, Bethany, was in the nesting box day and night. She never left and there was no egg under her. I had just read about chickens becoming "egg bound" (basically constipated with an egg) and thought it very providential, otherwise I would have had no idea that Bethany was in distress. I carefully researched how to help Bethany pass her egg. Caleb, Britton and I dutifully retrieved Bethany from the nesting box. Chickens have one chute for all their business (poop and eggs) and it's called a vent. Britton dumped castor oil down her throat and then Caleb held her upside down while I poured olive oil down her vent. Poor Bethany. We decided to stop with those treatments and see if she would find relief.

The next day she was still in the nesting box, eggless, and I had that sinking feeling that I was going to have to use the "other" intervention: sticking my hand into the vent. Caleb (un)sympathetically said that the chickens were my thing and he really thought I should do it. He held Bethany upside down again. I will never forget staring down into that vent, trying to channel my inner-farm girl. I told myself that I can do hard things. I tried to conjure up the mind-over-matter strength required for the task. (A tad mellow-dramatic, I know, but these were truly the thoughts in my mind.) I literally could not do it. As I frantically tried to find a way out, a vague piece of information nagged at my sub-conscious. I often heard about chickens going "broody". What does that look like? We decided to pause the procedure while I researched it.

Turns out, a broody chicken does not leave the nesting box because she wants to hatch eggs like she is designed to do. She does not lay eggs during this time because she already has and is waiting for them to hatch (even if there are actually no eggs under her). When a person gets near her, she will puff herself up and try to appear as large as possible, like all protective mamas will. Yes, this is what Bethany was doing! And to think, I almost ...  Well, as Pa Ingalls always says, "All's well that ends well."  I think the take-away lesson here is, when in doubt, do NOT reach into a chicken's vent. (For the record, I did pick Bethany up, look into her eyes and apologize for dumping olive oil down her vent.)

Broodiness: a cure

With Bethany, we just kept throwing her out of the nesting box several times per day and she eventually snapped out of it. But then the other Silver Wyandotte, Annabeth, and a Gold Wyandotte, Jane, became broody at the same time. There are a couple of problems with broodiness. One is that the chicken doesn't lay eggs. Another problem is that she clogs up the nesting boxes so that there is no room for chickens who actually want to lay. During a recent bout of broodiness, three chickens crammed into one nesting box:

Bethany, Jane, and Diana Barry getting cozy 

A fabulous chicken resource is backyardchickens.com, with forums addressing every chicken issue known to man-kind. Fellow chicken-keepers' suggestion for broodiness is to create a cage, such as a dog kennel, up on blocks, so that there is no cozy place for the chicken to sit and "hatch" eggs. Keep her in for three days and then release her and see if she goes straight back to the nesting box. If  she does, put her back in. If not, she is cured.  Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you The Broody Buster:

Sad broodies in The Broody Buster

We placed The Broody Buster in a barn stall and after three days, released the girls, completely cured of their broodiness. We've used it on one other chicken, Hermione, and she too was cured. Although she has never resumed laying, which is a bummer as she was our only layer of green eggs. I'm assuming this has something to do with the shortening days and the approach of winter. We're down to 6-8 eggs per day and I'm unsure if our three newbies (Hedwig, Susan, and Lucy) have started laying or not.

Readying the Coop for Winter

We set aside a warm, dry Saturday in September to thoroughly clean the coop before the fall rains and short winter days (meaning more coop time for the chickens) arrived. Our favorite chicken reference book advises that this is only necessary twice a year. We donned galoshes (and horrifyingly, not gloves. I promise we will do that next time. I can't believe I didn't think of that!) and shoveled all of the poop-and-feather-laden bedding into 5 gallon buckets and dumped them into the tractor scoop. Caleb then transported it to the compost pile, where, by next spring, we should have rich, fertile compost to feed my garden soil. (Truly, God's design for these things leaves my little brain in awe.) We also scraped chicken poop and chicken dust off of all surfaces. Chicken dust is like pet dander and covers every inch of their dwelling. Shoveling the bedding stirs it up and it gets in the lungs. We probably all should have worn face masks too.

Pretend they have gloves on. (Enough time has elapsed that 
I am certain no one contracted salmonella.)

Britton is the chickens main caretaker. He loves
and cares for them well.

Elisabeth scraping chicken poop. This princess 
knows how to get dirty.

As a conscientious student of me, my dear husband has noted a predictable pattern: About every two months I get the itch for more animals. A week after moving to our farm, Brody the Golden Retriever joined our family. We purchased twelve chicks. Our cows had babies. Digory the kitten found a home. I became obsessed with goats: Welcome, Elinor and Marianne. I increased my flock of chickens. A year has passed and it all adds up to a very full barnyard (and house). After spending an entire weekend in the car, tracking down chickens and their new coop, Caleb illicited a solemn promise from me: "No more animals." It has been two months and I remain true to my word. But I keep seeing these cute little piglets for sale and I sure do love bacon... 

The Garden

“One of the most important resources that a garden makes available for use, is the gardener's own body. A garden gives the body the dignity of working in its own support. It is a way of rejoining the human race.” 

~Wendell Berry

The 1,200 square foot garden entirely enclosed with a 10-foot deer fence was one of the more alluring, yet daunting, aspects of our property when we purchased it. I inherited a 30 foot long row of strawberries, a 40 foot row of marionberries (that completely inundated us this year), 30 feet of raspberries, and 15 feet each of concord grapes and boysenberries. Caleb also planted 8 blueberry bushes that did not produce this year and a long row of asparagus, which are a perennial and take two years to be ready for harvest. Yet, the garden was not even 1/3 full. I told myself that I did not have to plant all of it. I could do as much (or as little) as I wanted. But it felt wasteful to have the space, cleared and mostly irrigated, and not grow food for my family. So I planted all of it.

I decided this would be an experimental year since I have never grown any type of garden worth mentioning and didn't really know what I was doing. I grew a little bit of everything (and a lot of some things) to learn about it and to see what my family would use. I went easy on myself and did not start seeds indoors, or even use very many seeds at all. I mostly planted starts. I picked up Vegetable Gardening in the Pacific Northwest at Costco, and it was extremely helpful. Invaluable, actually.

My Successes

One Day's Bounty

Broccoli: Wow, this went all season long and it was the veggie presented at many dinners. I would definitely plant again and maybe even a bit more. I planted a second round mid-summer and it is still going now, though not as vigorously as my first planting. 

Salad Greens: Early in the season they were delicious. They get bitter the warmer the weather gets.

Kale: It's still growing strong. I dehydrate leaves and make a kale powder in the food processor. About 20 leaves goes into 1 Tablespoon of kale powder. That is some concentrated nutrition! I plan to sneak it into sauces and soups this winter. 

Cucumbers: 2 lemon cucumber plants and 2 regular cucumber plants left us inundated. But we all love them with a little pink sea salt... yum!

Butternut Squash: I planted 3 plants and have 12 large butternut squash cured and in basement storage, hopefully to last the winter. 

Zucchini and yellow summer squash: Who isn't successful with these? I have gallon bags all cubed up ready to make our favorite zucchini cheese soup all winter long.

Tomatillos: 5 plants that all produced heavily and needed no care. They amazed me. I canned a lot of salsa verde.  

Tomatoes: I planted 25 plants of all different varieties in the hopes that they would ripen at different times. The plan worked well and yet I always had enough to work with at any given time. I marvel at how many tomatoes go into any tomato product. If I truly wanted to use only homegrown tomatoes all year long from my pantry, I can't fathom how many plants I would have to plant. 100? Quite possibly.

Beets: I grew these from seed and they did well. I have tried every possible way to eat beets and still cannot stand them. Caleb loves them though so I try to can a few pints for him. 

Snap Peas: My kids love eating them straight off the vine so very few even made it to the dinner table. Peas are the first crop planted in the spring and the first one to be done in early summer. I would plant more next year as they grew right up the fence and we certainly have enough fence to offer them.

Pumpkins: I planted several plants of different varieties and we have many pumpkins. Actually, a volunteer pumpkin plant sprouted near the compost pile and was the healthiest, most thriving of them all, producing 6 huge pumpkins. It was gratifying to carve pumpkins that we had grown ourselves. 

My Failures
Green Beans: I planted several plants of all different varieties, pole and bush. None of them really thrived. We had a few green bean dinners and I was able to freeze a few for winter, but I would plant several more next year and definitely not a couple of the varieties I tried.

Potatoes: I planted a 20 foot row of yukon golds, baby reds, and purple potatoes. They started out strong, but parts of our irrigation system were not working properly and the potato row was just not getting enough water. It was a huge failure, but I'd like to try again after we re-vamp our irrigation.

Onions: I planted some along the fence where there is no irrigation, and pretty much anything that relies on me hand-watering for it's main water source is not likely to survive. 

Celery: I missed the proper harvest time and they were inedibly bitter.

Carrot and Spinach from seed: None of my seeds sprouted. I even tried carrots twice. They were one of the few things I had grown successfully before, so I was surprised and disappointed.

Cauliflower: I planted mid-summer for an early fall harvest and I missed my window. They have all bolted. 

Mixed Bag
Swiss Chard: It's beautiful. It's big. It grows all season. It's still growing. But how much swiss chard can one use? I suppose I'm not creative enough.

Radishes: They were definitely a success. I grew them from seed and they were ready in 3 weeks. The instant gratification was fantastic. The problem is that they were so spicy we could hardly eat them. Seriously, they brought tears to our eyes. And again, how many radishes can a person eat?

Parsnip: I had a large, thriving parsnip patch growing from seed. I planted in May and they are not ready for harvest until October. So while I patiently waited all summer, I would come out each day and find a burrowing animal (mole or gopher, I suspect) had tunneled into my patch and devoured one. The patch died a slow death, one parsnip at a time and I was powerless to stop it. This month, harvest month, I had one pathetic half-parsnip left. Sad.

Pickling Cucumbers: My plan was to have 3 pickling cucumber plants so I would have enough ripe at one time to do batches of pickles. One plant thrived from the start. The other two died, so I dutifully purchased two more to replace it and then they died. Inexplicably, that cycle continued. After purchasing at least 6 plants, I decided I would do better, financially, to just outsource my pickling cucumber purchase, if needed. That one plant produced amazingly and I was able to can several pints of pickles just from it, although I did have to purchase some additional cucumbers at the store. Caleb is a little panicky that we will not have enough to last us all year (He loves my garlic dills!) and I'm afraid he may be right. 

Bell Peppers: I had a blossom end rot issue so probably half of my peppers were rotted and unsalvageable. I read that can be caused by inconsistent water and un-coincidentally, the irrigation was not working on that row and I had to hand water. What I did harvest were great and I was able to use them in my salsas.  

Watermelon and Cantaloupe: They really don't grow too well here and even though this was our warmest, driest year in recent history, we only harvested a few small melons. They were so delectably sweet though, that it was completely worth the space they used. (And I am only speaking of watermelon. Cantaloupe is the one food I have despised all my life. Even the smell makes me throw up in my mouth a little. My kids, however, love it, so I sacrifice.)

I haven't even touched on pears and apples or done any philosophizing on growing our own food. I will have to save that post for another day. My pantry is full. My freezer is full. Food is rotting on the vines in the Autumn rain and I cannot bring myself to even go into my garden and deal with it. I am tired. But I am satisfied in a way I've never known. For this abundance I prayed, and the Lord provided.

And Then There Were Goats... (Part II)

If you're short of trouble, take a goat.

~Finnish proverb

When we brought Elinor and Marianne home, we placed them in the pasture and expected them to start eating the vast variety of yummy weeds and shrubs and grasses thriving there. (Goats are browsers, preferring a sampling of many things rather than the focused grazing on grass of cows or sheep.) But they just stood at the fence and Meh-ed at us for days. And days. Since their previous owner did not have pasture for them, they were kept in a small pen and fed oats. We continued to do this for a few days but then decided we needed to starve them out and force them to browse. Even then, they mostly just stood at the fence, keeping a watchful eye for one of us to step outside so they could cry at us. They were pathetic. 

Every evening we would let them out with us and they were our shadows. (Actually Elinor was our shadow and Marianne was Elinor's shadow.) We strolled up and down our long gravel driveway while they nibbled on blackberry bushes and dried leaves, never leaving our side. If we had to step inside for a moment, this would be the view from inside (accompanied by very sad crying): 

Feeding a goat is not as straight forward as other livestock. They need a mix of hay (second or third cutting alfalfa), goat-specific mineral supplement, and grain. Plus, they are subject to various ailments like bloat, which occurs if they eat wet grass, kidney stones, and lactic acidosis (grain overload) if their rumen PH falls below 5.5. (I'm not sure I even know what that means.) Plus, many common plants are toxic to them, including rhododendron and laurel (we have both) and tomato plants (which I totally would have thrown to them at the end of growing season, if I had not read this). All of this was stressing me out the first couple of weeks. Finally, we bought some Purina Goat Chow, which I'm sure is junk, but at least won't kill them immediately, and we are purchasing some second cutting alfalfa for the winter.  

They are definitely more comfortable now and venture out into the larger pastures to nibble on goodies, but still prefer to be fed (and if it comes directly from our hands, all the better.) They are more like dogs than farm animals, which took some getting used to, since we already have two dogs and I wasn't really in the market for more. 

Yes, that's Elinor giving me a kiss.

I have grown to love these creatures, but they are a handful. They used to gladly follow us back to the pasture when their time out with us was finished. Now, they're too smart for that and I have literally had to drag Elinor the LONG distance down to the pasture while she dropped to her knees like a toddler who doesn't want to go where she is being led. They force their way through the small chicken door into the coop (actually breaking it) and devour chicken feed (which can also be toxic to them). They mysteriously appear places with no indication of how they got in or out. They truly are endearing though. And they just want to be with us. Is that so wrong?

People ask us why we bought them. Are they working goats? Are they pets? We thought they would work on our weed and blackberry and poison oak problem, but they are so finicky and so small that they could eat every hour for the rest of their lives and really not make a dent. We would like to breed Elinor this fall or spring and sell some kids. (Shock of shocks: Caleb said he would like to keep one of the kids. I'm including that information here because after something is written on a blog, it's irrevocable, right?) After breeding, Elinor will be in milk. I really would like to try milking her, but it is a huge commitment, as goats have to be milked twice a day, at 12 hours intervals. After gushing extensively about how convenient it was to spend a little more money and purchase the pre-sliced Tillamook cheddar from Costco, my dear husband gently suggested that maybe my zeal for pre-sliced cheese indicates that I am not quite ready to tackle home dairy. Touche. So let's face it, they are pets, and we are okay with that.

And Then There Were Goats.... (Part I)

If you're short of trouble, take a goat.

~Finnish proverb

My whole life I have had the inexplicable desire for a goat. I don't know why, except that they are awfully cute and I have heard, are brighter and more like pets than other farm animals. So when we moved to our little homestead property, I promptly purchased The Backyard Goat: An Introductory Guide to Keeping Productive Pet Goats. There are so many breeds of goats and each with their own distinct purpose, from meat to dairy to fiber to transportation (pack goats), that I wasn't really sure what breed would best suit us. But I did discover almost immediately that we did not want a buck (an un-altered male). 

"Though regal and often affectionate to a fault, 

bucks have bizarre habits that make them 

unsuitable for most applications...
Bucks don't make good pets or working goats. "
pg 15

To expand on this, a buck considers female humans part of their herd and courts them, challenging human males for leadership. Although it has been a long time since I've been courted, it hasn't been long enough for me to find a goat's courtship flattering. And while under most circumstances I would enjoy seeing Caleb defend my honor, I would hate to see him battered by a 200 pound, love-struck, horned goat. Believe it or not, that was the least offensive behavior described. I won't go into detail, but bucks are a little obsessed with their private parts and find many unseemly ways to express this. I'm all for home education on the farm, but at this point there are some places I'd just rather not go with my young children. 

In all honesty, after reading The Backyard Goat cover-to-cover, I cooled on my goat plan a bit. They seemed (even aside from bucks), perhaps, more high maintenance than we were up for, and we were busy with baby chicks and cows about to give birth and planting a large garden, etc. I shelved the idea for several months. And then after our calves were safely delivered, I breathed a sigh of relief... and I got a bee in my bonnet: I wanted a goat!! I searched Craigslist everyday. I read blog articles and informational websites to discover a breed that would be suitable for our family. I settled on the Nigerian Dwarf breed for a few reasons. First, they are completely adorable. Second, their smaller stature make them easier to manage and less expensive to feed. Third, if I ever want to pursue my dream of a home dairy, Nigerians are the ideal choice. Fourth, they can be bred anytime of year and usually birth 3-4 kids which can be sold for at least a couple hundred dollars each.  

I found a lady on Craigslist about 20 minutes from us, selling off a large assortment of Nigerian Dwarf wethers (castrated males), doelings (females who have not been bred) and kids. For about three weeks I watched her change her CL ad to reflect her dwindling inventory. By the time Caleb consented (over a peaceful Friday night dinner and glass of wine, sans children) and we landed at her farm the next day, she only had one kid and a few doelings to choose from. She informed us that it really was not an option to only take one because they are herd creatures and absolutely need companionship. Cows can occasionally stand in, but really, they need another goat. We decided to take her one remaining kid, a scrumptious 3-month old black and white female with blue eyes (we paid a premium for this trait, as it is supposedly quite desirable) and a beautiful auburn and white year-old doeling. We opted to pay extra to have them papered so that if we decide to breed them, we can in-turn charge more for the kids because we have proof of their purebred blood lines. So without further ado, let me introduce you to Elinor and Marianne (named after the Dashwood sisters in Sense and Sensibility):   

How much cuteness can one picture hold???

We really did not prepare for them in advance. Their owner fed them oats twice a day so I scrounged up some breakfast oats from my pantry. We boarded them in a barn stall. As we looked around for a water container, we noticed a bucket attached to the wall. This property was a goat farm, and not just a regular goat farm, but a dwarf goat farm, so we are actually totally set up for dwarf goats in ways that we did not even realize. The barn has little doors cut into the stalls to allow goats to come and go freely. Each stall has water and feeding troughs at just the proper height for dwarf goats. The fencing around our 3 acres of pasture is specifically designed to keep small (naughty) goats in. This is what we were designed for!  

To be continued...

  

They Were Pregnant!

You may remember a few months back there was considerable speculation about the reproductive state of our cows. Well, let me end the suspense:

We actually found out before the calves showed up in our pasture that they were, indeed, pregnant. A couple of months ago I spoke with my very knowledgable neighbor (owner of the bull who fathered these adorable babes) and asked if she really thought the cows were pregnant. She said unequivocally, YES! She said she had not seen the cows exhibiting any "in heat" behaviors since the bull was in pasture with them. When I pressed her on what those behaviors would look like, she said, for example, they hadn't been mounting each other. (Really? Female animals do that??) She said to definitely proceed on the assumption that they are pregnant. And the closer we got to D-Day, they were obviously much larger and their udders began to fill with milk. 

Being the newbies that we are, we also had a country vet come out to check them out and make sure everything was in order. (I was disappointed that he was nothing like James Herriott. I suppose a Scottish accent coming from Dallas, Oregon was a bit much to expect.) He told us that cows should labor no longer than four hours and push for no longer than 20 minutes. After 20 minutes, we need to call him immediately.     

Every day in June we eagerly watched the pastures for signs of new life and then the morning of June 24th I stepped out to this sight:

Baby Boy#1 was still wet and Mom #1 (Stripe) was cleaning him up. I think he was probably born an hour or so before I saw him. We were all very excited! 

Caleb giving the calf his vaccinations

That very same afternoon I was fairly certain that Mom #2 (Splotch) was in labor. She was pacing around endlessly and not eating, her whole body contracted every so often, and her tail was sticking straight out. About 9:00 in the evening we were all working in the garden when Britton happened to walk by the pasture she was in. He yelled, "I see a snout coming out!" We sprinted over and were all able to witness Baby Boy #2 being born. It only took about five minutes and Splotch did not moo or appear distressed or in pain. We moved down into the pasture and stood right next to them for about twenty minutes, watching Mom clean him up as he kept trying (and failing) to stand on his wobbly newborn legs. I'll tell you, peering over that fence on a warm summer evening with my children and husband, watching our cow give birth was an extremely special moment, a gift from God, and brought tears to my eyes. I'll never forget it. We have no pictures because we were too busy actually witnessing it. But here is a picture of them later:     

Britton immediately named them Goggles and Mask ("named" as a way to distinguish them from one another, not to make pets of them - or so we keep telling ourselves). Goggles is the most beautiful deep mahogany red color. My neighbor said he looks just like his grandfather, who they also owned. The boys have such fun playing together, running around the pasture and butting heads. 

A few days after our little bulls were born, our neighbors came over and helped Caleb band them (i.e. change them from "bulls" to "steer"). It seemed in poor taste to photograph the event so my words will have to suffice. As a thank you I gave our neighbors several pounds of freshly picked marionberries. It seemed a quaint, country thing to do: trade two bull castrations for garden produce (though I'm sure the bulls steer think they got the short end of the trade).          

The calves are a little skittish with us (perhaps because of the above-referenced "banding" experience) but the kids have gotten to pet them quite a bit. 

Britton recently told me, "I don't ever want to be a 'city-slicker' again!" As proof he wrote the following song (printed with permission):

Living in the Country

a song by Britton

I moved to the country when I was 9

And I admit it was really fine!

The grass was green. Really green.

Greener than I had ever seen!

There were many trees. Lots of trees!

And we're thinking about raising honey bees!

Chorus:

I'm livin' in the country! Me and my family

Living! Living! Living in the country! Country! Country!

Come on down! Come on down! Come on down!

Come on down and visit me-e-e!

I moved to the country and got a cat

I'm so happy, gonna get a heart attack!

Chorus

Oh yeah-a-a! Oh yeah-a-a!

I'm living in the country

Chorus

There is hard work!

You get into the dirt!

But don't let that discourage you!

Don't say boo hoo hoo!

It's really worth it yeah!

Chorus

I'M LIVING IN THE COUNTRY!

WOO!

The number of exclamation points alone should tell you how excited we are to be out here in the country and should make you want to come out here too!!!

Chicken Love

Surprises
A few things I did not know or expect about chickens:

* They are garbage disposals. I have a perpetual "Chicken Scrap" bowl on my kitchen counter and into it goes everything: apple cores, carrot shavings, banana peels, meat scraps, pasta, etc. (Britton has requested that I do not include pieces of chicken so as not to make cannibals of them. I may or may not sneak some in occasionally.)  While my compost bin is now suffering (it's pretty much all egg shells, coffee grounds, citrus peels and napkins now), turning our garbage into future eggs somehow feels more satisfying than turning it into future dirt. Plus, it lessens our chicken feed bill.
* Chickens put themselves to bed each night. When we go out to close them up as the sun is setting, we invariably find them all tucked in on their roost. (Roosting = one of the many chicken idioms in the English language). If we go out too early in the evening, they are not yet ready for bed and are still out in the pasture. Their internal clocks instruct them on what to do. Wonderfully designed creatures!
* I love watching the chickens. They cluck and peck and chase each other around and just do their chicken-thing like God designed them to. They delight me. If chaos reigns in the house or if a rare moment when all my children are peaceably occupied occurs, I might slip out and find my own moment of peace at the chicken pasture fence. They are mesmerizing. Caleb describes it as similar to watching a campfire - you can stare endlessly. 

The Cast of Characters
Have you ever tried to photograph chickens? Its not as easy as it might sound. I was trying to get a picture of each pair of the same breed, but they are in constant motion and kept photo-bombing each other. I spent way too much time crouched down in the chicken pasture, being swarmed by chickens hoping for kitchen scraps (which I usually have), having my toes pecked at. These were the best I could do. Since our family loves books, each girl is named for a literary character (and I use the term "literary" loosely, as we are talking about everything from true literature to books my three year-old enjoys and everything in between).

Our most beautiful breed (in my opinion), the Gold-Laced Wyandotte. We have two, "The Janes" - Jane Austen and Jane Eyre. 

Our two Gold Sex-Link, Anne Shirley (the red-head, obviously) and Golden Miranda (so named for the perfectly sweet character in the Humphrey the Hamster series). Gold Sex-Link are a cross between Rhode Island Red and Rhode Island White. They are called Sex-Link because a chick's gender is distinguishable at birth based on its color. Very handy when you want to ensure you are getting an egg-layer!

We have two of these Black Sex-Link, Diana Barry (Anne Shirley's raven-haired bosom friend) and Cuddles. Cuddles was more aptly named when she was two-days old and was a little ball of fluff. I wouldn't recommend cuddling her now. Black Sex-Link are a cross between Rhode Island Red and Barred Rock. Again, the males and females are distinguishable at birth by their markings. Their back feathers shine a deep green in the sun and they are gorgeous!

Silver-Laced Wyandottes, Annabeth (from Percy Jackson series) and Bethany (from the Erec Rex series)

We have two Barred (or Plymouth) Rock, Violet (from the Boxcar Children) and Little Lavender (from both Anne of Green Gables and Harry Potter books). As a chick, I thought for sure Little Lavender wouldn't make it. She was half the size of the others and just layed under the heat lamp all by herself when the others were off exploring. She appeared sickly and small, but she rallied and is now as large and ornery as the rest of them. 

Daisy and Hermione

These girls are our mavericks. Daisy (from the Biscuit books) is a California White Leghorn. This breed represents 90% of commercial chickens. They lay between 300-350 eggs a year - more than any other breed. Do you buy white eggs from the store? They are almost certainly from a California Leghorn. I have found Daisy covered in blood no less than seven times. We have been at a loss to figure out how she is cutting herself. At 4 pounds, she is much lighter than the others and can squeeze places she shouldn't. She can also take flight and will perch on top of the fence. I finally realized that the back half of the fence is topped by barbed wire and that is most likely where she is getting her pokes and cuts. Since she apparently is not learning from her mis-adventures, I suppose we will need to take the barbed wire down. 

Britton with Anne Shirley, who does not
mind being held

Hermione (from Harry Potter) is an Ameracauna. She has the look of a hawk or falcon with tufts of feathers around her face and a thick neck. She was my novelty pick because she is not a heavy layer, but she lays green eggs. I couldn't resist. She is skittish and Britton laments that she is the only chicken he has not been able to pick up and hold. The other day I challenged him to a little competition to see who could catch her first. We ran around the chicken pasture for a good while (which did not assuage her fear of us, I'm sure). Alas, Hermione was the winner on that one. She remains unheld. 

I can't have a section called "Cast of Characters" and not put in a picture of these four:

Never a dull moment around here!