Fullness

Be still and know that I am God. 

Psalm 46:10

Britton and Elisabeth enjoying the view and the stillness
and the breeze of a Spring afternoon from the barn roof.

Britton transporting my garden plants from car to garden

Holding Pattern
Spring is usually such a time of possibility - What new flowers do I want to try? What new animals do we want to raise? What new vegetables do I want to grow? But this year we have just been intent on daily survival amidst chaos and keeping all current animals alive. The above verse has been a good one for me. We did get fruit trees pruned and I did get my garden planted, though slightly smaller than last year. The repeat plantings from last year are tomatoes, tomatillos, peppers, broccoli, cauliflower, lettuce, kale, spinach, peas, green beans, watermelon, cantaloup, cucumbers, zucchini, yellow squash, butternut squash and pumpkins. The only new ventures are corn and onions. I am also trying carrot seeds again, which failed miserably last year. I've seen those pesky robins rooting around in my seed area, so I'm thinking that may have been what went wrong. Our raspberries are suffering from an unknown malady and our strawberry patch is about 50% smaller than last year. But the marionberries look to inundate us once again, and I still have a bunch in my freezer. (No complaints!) My pantry is still about half-full of last year's canning, so I'm feeling relieved that I can do less this coming summer and still have plenty of home-grown things to eat throughout the coming year.   

Too Many Cows 

Goggles, a beautiful boy

In the winter pastures go dormant and grass does not grow. (Think about how you don't need to mow your grass between November and March, even though it is still green.) So all winter we fed our Mama cows, Stripe and Splotch, hay and more hay and more hay. We grossly underestimated the amount of hay we would need and bought bale after bale from those wonderful neighbors I always mention. Yet the Mamas got skinnier and skinnier. By March we called our neighbors and asked what they thought was going on. They said that nursing the Boys was probably taking its toll and that we needed to wean them. They were 9 months old after all. It was time. We came up with a plan where the Mamas would go down to our neighbors for a couple of weeks until the Boys were weaned and the Mamas dried up. Our neighbors cautioned us to pen the Boys up in the pasture farthest away from their property because they had done this process before with the previous owner and the cows went straight through the fence to reunite.

Mask and Elinor playing peak-a-boo

For two days we (and the rest of our neighbors) endured the piteous crying of four miserable cows calling back and forth to each other. It really was one of the most pathetic things I've witnessed. Finally our neighbor called and said that the plan wasn't working. The Mamas were too distressed to eat and were just pacing back and forth along the fence line. He suggested we bring the Mamas back, but keep them in a pasture next to the Boys, so they could be near each other but not nurse. This did the trick. The Mamas licked their Boys through the fence, which was a very sweet sight, but after a week or so everyone seemed over it.  

An Irish Dexter

Because of the amount of hay required to feed two nursing moms through the winter, Caleb decided that maybe we should sell the Mamas. He did some research and discovered the Irish Dexter Cow. They are considered the perfect homestead cow because they are half the size of our Herefords, standing only 36" tall, and requiring half the feed. Of course, you get half the amount of meat, but we would still have plenty for ourselves and some to sell. When we attended the Oregon Poultry Swap in February, a local farmer who raises Irish Dexters was there and we had the opportunity to pick her brain. She said when an Irish Dexter is in milk, even after nursing her calf, you can milk once a day and get 1-2 gallons, whereas a true dairy breed gives 5-9 gallons a day - way too much for the average family. We decided this is the direction we wanted to go and so formulated a new plan: We would sell the two Mamas to our neighbors (who had become very attached to them when they cow-sat last summer for two months and had offered to buy them), butcher the Boys in November or December when they are 18 months old, and buy two Irish Dexter Heifers, preferably already bred, in January. We have completed step one of that plan: Stripe and Splotch now live across the street.   

cRaZy Times
I haven't had a kitchen in 10 weeks. And not only no kitchen, but no family room, dining room, or basement either. We have been living in the Living Room. Is it possible to fit any more life into one room?

The room is hosting the piano, TV, computer, dining room table, microwave, toaster and coffee maker, training potty, (I abandoned this effort after one day. I just don't have it in me right now.), the coat tree and shoe basket (our entry foyer is off limits also), four kids, two dogs, one cat and the fish tank. On the back deck is the refrigerator and camp stove. The toaster oven is set up in the garage. I use the sink in the laundry room (when I can get to it). 

Mama cooking on the camp stove.

People keep asking me what we're eating. Here's the pretty complete rundown: cereal, pre-packaged snacks, tuna sandwiches, hot dogs, crockpot stew, quesadillas, and taco salad. You know, life just goes on and we've adjusted. The kids are doing school in extremely tight quarters with a lot of construction noise around them, but life goes on. We figure out what to eat because we're hungry, and life goes on. I am mindful that much of the world would be very thankful to have a propane stove and clean running water so that helps give me perspective. (Though I'm not denying it has been hard. I am SO ready to be done with the chaos and excited to have a new kitchen!)

For the past two days (and for the next seven) we have been completely out of the living room as well. We are only allowed in the bedrooms. Thankfully we have a random sliding door in the bedroom hallway that we've always laughed at, but allows us to actually leave our house during this time. Elisabeth said, "We have to live in our bedrooms?? This just keeps getting worse!!" It's definitely getting worse before it gets better. But after these nine days... completion. And then five days later, on to much bigger and better things....

CHINA BOUND

We leave in twelve days for China. Paperwork is complete, tickets are bought, itineraries are settled, and a little boy waits for his family. People keep asking me if I'm excited. I definitely am, but it's not a pure excitement. It is twinged with some anxiety about the unknowns and a greater understanding than we had the first time around of the woundedness that our son will bring home with him. It is impossible that two years in an orphanage won't leave their mark. BUT, we are thankful that we know the One who heals and pray He will use our love and our home as vessels of healing for Graham Jeffrey. We welcome him into our family with open arms and the excitement lies in watching Graham's story unfold and merge into ours, for our God is also the Master Storyteller. 

I can't believe I will be pinching these cheeks in just a couple of weeks! Pray for us, Friends. Pray for the logistics of our trip and for our hearts to be open and loving. Pray for Graham as his world is about to be rocked completely. And please pray for the kiddos and grandparents back home, especially Rosie who struggles with being away from us. 

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory...

Ephesians 3:20-21 

Pot Pourri

A warm January day

Winter Recovery
The past three months have been quiet on the farm. I suppose that is part of the purpose of Winter - to restore us and give us rest and ready us for the coming season of growth and activity and new life. The first seed catalog arrived in January and I could not even look at it. There was not yet enough distance between that exhilaratingly exhausting time last Summer and Autumn and its arrival. I stuck it on a shelf. By Mid-February the stack had grown to five different catalogs, we were experiencing weather in the mid 60s, and I was getting the itch. I began casually thumbing through them. 

Q: Why did the chicken cross the irrigation ditch?
A: To get to the compost pile. 

Fast-forward to the second week of April and I am longing to be planting, but my garden is not ready for me. Caleb has been completely re-laying the irrigation system. (I am continuously amazed at the breadth of skills my attorney husband has.) Parts of it was malfunctioning last year and I had to do a lot of hand-watering. While it is torn up, we decided to re-arrange the beds and re-organize the general layout. It pains me to pass by the pea starts and salad greens I keep seeing at the store. Hopefully within a couple of weeks the garden will be put back together and I can begin planting.

Getting Prepared

Stored in the barn, waiting for an emergency

I've felt kind of proud of how we've become "animal people" the past year and a half. But in the back of my mind I've had this nagging notion that we haven't really been tried yet. Everything has gone smoothly. Even our cows giving birth came off without a hitch. When our chicken got injured and was pecked to death by her flock-mates, we were on vacation and had a housesitter (my sweet niece who handled it so well), so we even escaped that. We lost one other chicken to a predator, but by the time I found her, she was quite a bit past needing any intervention by me. At some point I realized that we were completely ill-equipped to handle the injury or illness that would inevitably occur on a farm. I did not own a single piece of animal first-aid or medicine, which just seemed irresponsible. So I posted a question on the Oregon Homesteaders Chat Facebook page: What essential items would you include in a farm-animal first-aid kit? I received many responses, wrote them all down, cross-referenced to see which items came up the most often, and set about to track them down. I was able to find everything on Amazon, spending about $100, but I really feel like we have what we will need for most any circumstance. Our kit includes:

*Blood Stop Powder
*Blu Kote (paints wounds blue so chickens won't peck at them)
*Vetericyn Wound and Skin Care
*Electrolyte powder 
*Aspirin Powder
*Epsom Salts
Plus, essential supplies, like towels, bandages, duct tape, syringes, cotton balls, cue tips and maxi pads (supposedly perfect for wrapping around a leg wound). 

Now, if I will actually be able to treat my animals without passing out (I have serious blood issues, and I am not exaggerating), that will be a miracle. 

Not a Big Deal
Since we got our goats last July, the task of trimming their hooves has hung heavily over us. It seemed intimidating and dangerous  (for them) and we put if off for months. I spoke to a dad at our homeschool co-op who is a serious DIYer when it comes to animals. He hunts elk and traps beavers and butchers animals himself. But he said he would hire out trimming goat hooves in a heartbeat. Caleb, however, was adamant that we needed to do it, at least the first time, ourselves. The task is supposed to be done every two months and we had put it off for six. It was time. We purchased a pair of $14 clippers from Amazon (they received great reviews) and watched a particular Ohio State University Youtube video several times and felt as ready as we would ever feel. The ideal set-up would be a milking stand where the goat's neck is constrained, but since we did not have that, we gerry-rigged a rope contraption and fed them oats (a rare treat) to distract them. 

Elinor and Marianne were slightly agitated, but mostly because they were not near each other. (They are extremely bonded and cry continuously if away from each other.) It really was easy to see where the hooves needed to be trimmed and the job was accomplished with little drama. 

We did not even draw blood. Elisabeth was concerned by the whole process. She asked what we'd do if we cut off a foot. Caleb assured her that wouldn't happen. She persisted, "But if it does, what will you do with the body???" Good question, but thankfully it didn't come to that.

Keeping Promises
You may remember that last September I made a promise that we were done adding animals to our farm for a while. I have been to true to my word (and have only wavered slightly when seeing the many spring piglets for sale). It was Caleb's idea to get some pullets (hens under a year old) at the Oregon Poultry Swap, which we had been planning to attend. Our big-picture chicken plan is to add chickens every six months or so to keep the stream of eggs continuous because, as chickens age, they begin to lay less. Britton had been really sick with a high fever for 9 days. On day 7 he tearfully shared his fear that he would not be well enough to go to the poultry swap. That's my chicken boy! 

Thankfully, Britton was better and our family headed out to the Polk County Fairgrounds in Rickreall. What an interesting experience. The exhibition hall was packed with vendors hocking very homemade handicrafts, roosters (a lot of roosters), pullets, rabbits, quail, and other random animals. There were so many people that it was hard to move (and keep track of four children). We arrived shortly after the doors opened but the pullet selection was already very picked over. The only lady with any selection left had 4 month and 6 month Bantam Cochins for sale for $15 each. We didn't know anything about Bantams but they were adorable and had feathered feet (feathered feet!). So we picked up four: two silver 4 month olds and 2 black and white 6 month olds that were already laying. 

As we drove home I used Caleb's phone to research our purchase. Here's what we learned about Bantam Cochins:


*They are originally from China but were given as a gift to Queen Victoria and are now very popular in England.
*They are poor layers.
*They only grow to 2 1/2 pounds. (Our other hens are 7-10 lbs.)
*They lay very small eggs.
*They love people and follow them around. (We have goats for that. And 13 other chickens.)
*They are like people in feather suits. (That is a direct quote from a Bantam website.) 

Okay, so maybe we would not have chosen them if we  had researched first, but they are a bit of a novelty and we are always up for trying a new breed. They are stinkin-adorable and did I mention they have feathered feet??

We've been reading the Little House books all school year, so we named these four after the Ingalls girls: Mary, Laura, Carrie, and Grace. And we all agree, one particularly spunky black one is defintely Laura. 

Life's Logistics

My life-long dream of owning a Volkswagon Van has
come true. Big Blue is perfect for our family and
I'm so thankful we found it!

How my kitchen and family-room look today

All winter we've been enjoying the calm, but anticipating that life was about to get cRaZy. (This has helped me keep the above-referenced promise, as I knew that we just could not take anything else on right now.) We bought a van and sold my car, in preparation for becoming a family of 7. We are on track to leave for China June 10 to bring home Graham Jeffrey. And I am currently 3 weeks into 10 weeks without a kitchen. Our kitchen remodel (and adding a bedroom project) is scheduled to be done two days before we leave for China.  What if there's a delay and the project isn't done? How am I going to get moved back in in the one day before we leave for China when I will have 10,000 other things to do? How am I going to detox my family from the convenience food I am feeding them while we live without a kitchen? My head can start spinning... I don't know what these next few weeks are going to look like. But I know the One who knows, and I am giving it to Him. A new child, a new kitchen... it's ALL GOOD and I'm sure these trifling details will work out. With all the time we'll be spending OUT of the house, I'm certain to get my garden planted before we leave. And after we return from China, I'm thinking that a little spotted piglet or two might be just what Good Gifts Farm needs. 

And Then There Were Five

A New Year... And a Bit of News
Though this blog is mostly comprised of snapshots of our new life on a small farm, the title, Dream Giver's Dream, is all encompassing and open-ended enough to allow me to write about whatever adventure God is leading us in to. In fact, it originally began as a place to chronicle our adoption of Rosalie and has evolved into what it currently is (the chronicling of me dumping olive oil down my chicken's vent, etc). At some point, I may write about homeschooling or traveling with our kids. (I'm sure that will sound more appealing someday, right?) But today, I'm taking it back to it's roots. 

Today I want to share that the future snapshots of farm life on this blog will include this sweet face... 

... because this little guy is going to be a Williams! We are excited to welcome Graham Jeffrey into our family and praise God for His guidance and timing in matching this precious boy with us. (Does anyone else just want to kiss and pinch those irresistible cheeks??) Graham will be two in May, so he is 13 months younger than Rosalie. We suspect Rosie will be a very "attentive" big sister and that she will enjoy running his life for him. (Have I mentioned what a firecracker she is?) 

We are hoping to travel to China in May or June to bring Graham home. It is very hard to wait, knowing that he is in an orphanage and all that stands between us is paperwork. But there is just no rushing the process, and no, we did not get to re-use anything from last time. While I would jump on a plane and bring him home tomorrow if allowed, we certainly won't be twiddling our thumbs the next few months. We are adding two bedrooms and a bathroom in our basement and figuring out if we can retro-fit my car to accommodate an additional passenger, as it is currently at capacity. Between that, finishing out our homeschool year, and planting my garden this spring, I'm praying that the time will pass quickly. 

I'm also praying that Graham is well loved and cared for in the interim, until I can wrap my Mommy arms around him. While the orphanages do not allow care packages, we were able to send him a talking photo album of our family. The kids enjoyed helping to put it together. And hopefully we won't seem complete strangers when we meet for the first time. 

  
Hang on little buddy, we're coming for you!

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...