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!

The Hen House

Our plan has always been to get chickens, but knowing nothing, we spent the winter months carefully researching and planning. There seemed so much to know that it often felt overwhelming, but I kept telling myself that people all over the world keep chickens (and have for thousands of years), so we should be able to figure this out. I highly recommend, Keeping Chickens by Ashley English. It is a simply laid out book with beautiful photography. (A high picture-to-print ratio makes any subject seem less daunting.) And like most things, once you begin actually doing, and you have a framework of understanding to hang your knowledge from, things begin making sense.

Wilco farm store in Stayton receives chicks every Thursday and put out a calendar of which breeds they would be receiving when. We researched the breeds and made our decision based on the amount of eggs they lay (we want heavy layers) as well as if they are good meat birds (called dual-purpose). People seem surprised (i.e. masking horror) when I say this. A hen's laying decreases significantly after 2-3 years, and there comes a time when the cost of feed will be greater than her production. Currently, there is an urban-area epidemic of people who jumped on the chicken bandwagon and then, when the eggs run out, abandon their chickens to animal shelters or "release" them to roam free. This is not humane. Culling a hen who has served her purpose (after a very wonderful chicken life, as our girls undoubtably will have) and using her to feed our family, fully utilizes the blessing of what God has provided for us. (Of course, I am saying this very theoretically and have not yet spent three years gathering eggs from a chicken that I am fond of. We will see if I can follow through.)

We have already had a family chicken-butchering experience so we are not completely foreign to the process. One Saturday morning last May, several families came together to butcher 75 meat chickens.  We came home with seven for our freezer, although we ate one that very night - Best. Chicken. Ever. (I was on break from blogging at the time so here are a few pictures to commemorate the event.)

My dear husband who was tasked (along
with our friend Steve, also in the picture)
of slitting the throats of 75 chickens.

Britton and his best friend Elise carrying
a chicken to the gallows.

Caleb helping Elisabeth dip a chicken in hot
water before sending it to the de-featherer.

I valued this experience because all of us (most-assuredly myself) became more comfortable with the natural process of raising animals for the specific purpose of consumption. My kids learned that the meat we eat does not originate in the refrigerated aisle of the supermarket. And above all, we came home with delicious, humanely-raised, nutritious meat. Now that's Home Education, folks! But I digress and jump ahead all at the same time! Let's get back to baby chicks.

Getting Started

Our first batch of chicks
(Sadly, one of the yellow ones didn't make it.)

We purchased eight, day-old chicks and after one died, went back the next week for five more, (I thought we should have a few spares) for a total of twelve. We have seven different breeds because we wanted to experiment with traits and temperaments. On the way home from Wilco, Elisabeth said with enthusiasm, "We're real farmers now!" And it does feel a bit more like that.

The only supplies we needed were a heat lamp, bedding material, a waterer and feed container, plus the feed. One of the nice things about this property is we have lots of rooms, buildings, and spaces. One could take up any number of hobbies or activities and dedicate a room to it. The "chick room" as we now call it, is a room in our shop that was used for grooming goats, back when this property was a Pygora Goat farm. It happened to have a large enclosed pen which we built a small box within. As they grew, we simply took down the small pen and let them roam the whole larger one.

Six-week old chicks (Notice their little "beginner" roost.)

We knew that at about 10-12 weeks they would be ready for "The Big House", so Caleb spent the next two months designing and building the coop.






The Coop

The storage shed

Our property had a rather large storage shed  that backs up to a small section of pasture. Caleb had the (brilliant) vision to retrofit it as a chicken coop with an enclosed run off the back and then free-range access from there into the pasture. It is luxuriously large for twelve chickens, but it was what we already had, so we used it, and now have room to expand our flock, if we ever desire to. 
What a coop must include:

 * a roost because like most birds, chickens feel most secure when they are sleeping up off the ground. 
* nesting boxes for laying eggs; one box per four chickens, so we built three, but have room to expand, if needed.
*food and water system
*ventilation: Caleb bought two old wood windows and a charming screen door from the Habitat for Humanity thrift store. He added the windows to each end of the coop for airflow, with chicken wire behind them to keep predators out.
* An easily cleanable floor: we installed linoleum with a very thick layer of bedding material over it. When we change the bedding we can give the floor a hose-down with water and bleach. 

Caleb and his brother Mark building the
new doorway and nesting boxes

     ELAPSED TIME: 2 MONTHS

Getting the coop ready for move-in day

Our juvenile girls in their new digs

  

Here is a view looking into the coop after entering through the door: We can retrieve eggs from the nesting boxes without having to fully go in. We also store the chicken feed and other tools on this side of the coop. You can see the pipe feeding system Caleb designed and the door for them to go outside. We close them up each night.

I wanted to wait and publish this post after we had painted the coop and made it really cute, but I know my six readers have been anxious for a chicken update (haha), and truthfully, who knows when that coop will be beautified, so here it is in all its "doctor-scrub-green" glory. These girls have the best chicken-life imaginable. They really do. I am so impressed with my husband who designed and built the entire thing himself. And any day now we should be cracking open our first home-grown egg...    

Goodbye, Winter

Winter is officially over. Happy Spring! We have spent the past two months enjoying a REAL snow, pruning our eight fruit trees, grapes and berry patch, weeding the garden for spring planting, wondering if we're feeding our cows enough and if they are really pregnant, caring for twelve baby chicks and building the coop for them to move into in a few weeks, basking in the glorious warmth of Arizona, celebrating and reflecting on one year with Rosalie, and ringing in Elisabeth's sixth year.

Snow

"I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, 
that it kisses them so gently? 
And then it covers them up snug, 
you know, with a white quilt? 
and perhaps it says 'Go to sleep darlings, 
till the summer comes again.' "
~ Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass 

Poor Rosalie with her little size 2 nubs for feet…
they don't make snow boots that size, 
so she was not able to partake in the snow fun.

Caleb was in Chicago for three days and it dumped snow the entire time he was away. We had over a foot by the time he returned to us. It was spectacularly beautiful and we closed off one of the pastures  for sledding. Britton and I had to feed and water the cows twice a day (their water froze very quickly) and for the first time, we let them sleep in the barn. (Actually, we were feeding them from one of the stalls and they pushed their way in and wouldn't leave.) The pipes in the barn burst and water gushed for 24 hours. Caleb tried to explain (from Chicago) where to turn it off, but the amount of knobs and pipes in this place is astounding. I was in the attic of the shop turning knobs like mad when actually the correct knob was in the basement of our house. These things are beyond me.  Times like this are when I solemnly tell Caleb, "Don't ever die." And I mean that for many, many reasons, but life's logistics are certainly one of them.

The perfect sledding hill right on
our own property

Cows
We have received a lot of conflicting information about our cows, and since we are ignorant on the subject, we are often confused. For example, the plan set up for us by the previous owners was that we should allow our cows to give birth, wean their calves after six months and then slaughter the moms and raise the babies. Sounds good, that's what we'll do. But then a "cow" person recently told us that the moms will be too old (nearly three) and not good for anything but hamburger. I don't want 2000 pounds of hamburger. Hmmm… what should we do? Also, the previous owner said he rarely supplemented their grazing and that if you give them hay then that is all they want because they are lazy and being hand-fed hay is much easier than grazing. So we were occasionally giving them hay, but for the most part were just letting them graze. However, they were constantly yelling at us. Let me tell you, it is unsettling to be yelled at by a cow. They would even stalk me, standing outside the kitchen window and yelling at me as I did dishes. It did cause us to wonder if they were getting enough to eat. Thankfully, a kind neighbor (who we've never met) called to tell us that, pardon the intrusion, but he thinks our cows are too skinny. We were so thankful! Now we are feeding them more. (And they still yell at us some, but I think they're mostly just being greedy.)

The Girls… pregnant or not???

The other source of confusion lies in if the cows are really pregnant. Everyone made it sound like if the bull spends time with them, it is a done deal… of course they're pregnant! I know in the human world that is not necessarily the case but apparently with cows matters are much more certain. So we proceeded on that assumption. Now six months later, we are left wondering. I have a strange glitch in my brain where I cannot tell if people have gained weight. Honestly, if you are my friend and you are packing it on, I will be oblivious. I will tell you you look great and I will mean it. This extends even to myself. I am clueless until I see an unfortunate picture of myself (this happened recently and we had a treadmill delivered yesterday - I'm on it!). It is the same with the cows - I can't tell if they're bigger. I've resorted to holding older pictures up to them in an attempt to distinguish any difference. So how do we find out definitively if they are pregnant?  I've googled it and the answer lies in a rubber glove and an arm disappearing up to the elbow. I think we'll just wait and see...

March 4, 2014, Rosalie's One-Year Forever Family Day

I began this blog to chronicle our adoption of Rosalie. Now the adoption is no longer "the" story but an interwoven part of the grander tapestry that is The Williams' Story. She is one of us now and ours is one story. 

A lady working at Home Depot recently said with a laugh,"She looks like she's full of it!" I said, "How did you know???" And she totally is. This girl is spunky, strong-willed, observant, intelligent, and hilarious. I truly believe that her spunk enabled her to survive all that she went through in China. And now, one year later, at least twice a day I look at Rosalie in amazement and thank God that she is ours. I don't do that with my other children,(though of course I love them and am so thankful for them). They came to us in such a normal and natural way that it doesn't regularly inspire awe. But when I look at that sweet face, I see a miracle. I see the very Hand of God moving through time and space and circumstances to bring us together. I see Redemption and Grace and the way He cares for the individual. I see a Divine Plan for a life that once appeared bleak, Hope for a future that once appeared grim. I cannot wait to see how God is going to use her spunk for His glory.   

Gifts

December is long passed, but the beauty of her gifts is fresh in my mind. 

Gift #1

Since nearly the first moment I knew the little farm on Riverdale Road would be ours, I have longed to see it in the snow. How would the treed hills surrounding our property look from my kitchen window? What would our enormous grassy yard look like covered in white? Where would the kids sled? Knowing the sporadic nature of Oregon winters, I was prepared to wait a year or two, or even longer. But God is so sweet, and only seven weeks into life here, I glimpsed my first views of Winter Wonderland and all my questions were answered:

The view of the hills

The view from my kitchen

The view of the yard

Where the kids sledded

The snow remained for a whole week 
because of frigid, dry weather.

Admittedly, it was not a huge amount of snow, but it was enough, and we loved it. Tomorrow it appears we may get another batch… we shall see! 

Gift #2

March 4, 2013

When I first held Rosalie in my arms eleven months ago, I had a fleeting moment of fear. She was malnourished and not doing anything that a ten month old baby should be doing. What would the future look like? But almost as quickly as it came, the fear departed, never to return. The Lord gave me a peace that He had placed Rosalie in our family and that our job was to love her and help her reach her full potential, whatever it would be. And from that moment on, I have honestly not been worried about which developmental milestones she was missing or what she wasn't doing compared to other children her age. I understood she was on her own timeline and I knew in my heart, she was going to be just fine. However, I was curious as to when she would begin walking, and as she started passing various milestones the thought kept coming, "Maybe she'll walk by Christmas…" It was a very arbitrary date to pick but the thought was persistent. 

Christmas Eve, always a special day 
in the Williams' house, but extra 
special with our little Rosalie taking 
her first steps and experiencing her 
first Christmas.

Well, Christmas Eve, which is also my birthday, arrived, and it happened: Rosalie toddled around on shaky legs for the first time. I was giddy with happiness! But as I am prone to do, I tried to second guess the timing and tell myself it was a coincidence, rationalize away God's good and perfect gift. However, I could not escape the truth of it: He did this just for me. Of all the days Rosalie could have taken her first steps, she did it on my birthday and one day before I had hoped in my mind that she would. God, your love and grace amaze me. What a sweet, sweet gift. 

Gift #3

Months before we even purchased a home in the country, I saw a picture of a sign on Pinterest that said: "Slow. Free Range Children". The sign happened to be posted in the most charming town in existence, Castle Combe, England, which only added to it's perfection. I resolved that if our country dream ever came true, I would have that sign on our property. When we moved, I scoured the internet for a place to buy a sign like that, but there were none. Caleb commented that I should just make one. Yeah… I hear about people who do such things, but I'm not one of them. Maybe I could… but when would I get around to it? The subject was dropped. And then for my birthday, this with a ribbon around it:

And now when you drive up our driveway, you are duly warned:

I love my husband so, so much.

Gift #4

The other item I have always dreamed of having is a big wooden swing on an old oak tree. I have mentioned this occasionally throughout our 14+ years of marriage and my sweet husband took notice. The week before Christmas and my birthday, Caleb's shop was like Geppetto's Workshop, but I couldn't imagine what he was up to. When I received the sign on Christmas Eve, I assumed that was the extent of his creations. This is what I was presented with on Christmas Day:

 Caleb carved "Fly High" into the seat
and the kids' initials into the four corners.

Caleb said he wants me to smile
every time I see it, and I do.

The towering old oak
 its arms gnarled and lovely
(a line of poetry I wrote many 
years ago in my poetic days)

Every good and perfect gift is from above, 

coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights,

 who does not change like shifting shadows.

James 1:17