Around the Farm

Dear Evangeline,

Gramma finally finished canning the hundreds and hundreds of tomatoes that were ripening when you were here. It was quite overwhelming for a while, and Gramma even began to dream about tomatoes which Poppy thought was very funny indeed. Imagine dreaming about buckets and buckets of tomatoes with no end in sight. Anyway, Poppy will have to build me more shelves for the jars and jars of sauce, salsa, tomatoes, and of course, green tomato mincemeat.

Poppy found dozens of tomatillo plants out in the pig pen. I have put pictures here for you to see what they look like.

They remind me of Chinese lanterns, but these are edible! That is a big word for you can eat them! The pigs scattered the seeds all over their yard. I hope the frost won't kill them before I can turn them into salsa.

Did I tell you that two of our hens hatched some chicks two weeks ago? Auntie Tess heard some cheeping in the barn, and surprise, there were five little chicks! The next morning, Little Bugger hatched seven of her own! Apparently Bantam hens are notorious for hatching chicks in the cold weather. I quickly made safe areas for them all, but unfortunately we have lost several to the cold. One hen and her two remaining chicks are safe in our basement. We made a little home for them in a big metal tub with a light to keep them warm. Little Bugger is still outside with her six chicks. She is a very good mama and keeps her babies tucked safely under her wings at night. I wish you were here to see them.

I was reading your Mama's blog about the doughnuts she made. They look delicious! Do you think she would make them for Gramma and Poppy some time?

I love you, Sweet Girl. Be good for your Mama and Daddy.
Gramma

A Look Back at 2010

A Foul Fowl Affair

This evening, I sat out on the front step cleaning, trimming, and sorting the shallots with a cat purring on my lap and the ever curious geese and ducks for companions. After the heat and humidity of the day, the cool evening air was a delight.

Dusk had already settled in when I realized that the new chicks were still outside. Now here is where having strong, wiry sons would come in handy. But unfortunately they were all out in town with Papa. So I went to the pen and looked at the 18 chicks. This can't be too hard. All but three were eager to be "caught", and this I did, placing them into the old rabbit cage for transport to the barn. What I didn't count on was how HEAVY 18 1-month old chicks would be. Not only were they heavy, but somehow the birds sensed that they were in the wrong hands, and so they started to shift back and forth inside the cage.

I was very proud of myself when I reached the the ladder to the loft. I looked at the ladder, and I looked at the cage. I looked at the ladder again...It was an old apple tree ladder, not the kind that gives one a sense of security. I placed the cage onto the table near the ladder and stepped gingerly on the first "rung". Next one (Oh, Dear Lord, don't let it break!), and the next. Then I hauled up the birds in the cage. What a racket they made! I managed to push the cage through the opening in the loft and opened the cage door. Not a chick moved. I shook the cage. Then I tipped it. The chicks hung on inside the cage for dear life. All right they can stay in there if they like. I would just have to get their food and water.

Again I realized that this was a job for those made of sterner stuff, and steadier legs and arms. But it was hot in that loft, and the chicks needed water. Carefully I climbed the rickety ladder while trying to keep the waterer level. I only succeeded in spilling half of the water...down the front of me. I raised the waterer to the level of the loft floor only to find that the weight of the ladder had pressed against the screen covering the opening. So back down the ladder I went spilling more water down my shirt. Remove the screen, climb the ladder again, spill more water. I was really breathing hard at this point. Finally, victory as I lifted the waterer above my shoulders and onto the loft floor. And there it sat, water spilling over the rim, out the opening, and yes, down the front of me. (I won't write here what I said at this point. Just know that it didn't have to do with water dams.)

What I didn't realize was that I had an audience the whole time. There below the ladder, looking up at me with the most astonished (I really don't know how else to describe it)looks on their faces were the geese and ducks. I can only imagine what they must have been thinking. I was covered in chicken poop from my shoulders down to my knees, and I know I didn't smell very good either. When I got to the ground I said in my brightest voice, "Hi, guys!" And with that they promptly turned tail and ran from the barn. Oh well.

On the bright side, when I went out to get the chick food, I startled a young deer that had wandered under the old apple tree. With a snort he began to bound away, but then stopped. I began to sing very softly and he took a few steps toward me. He was beautiful and stately in stature, and I realized I had been given a gift. Suddenly he sniffed the air and turning he walked back into the woods. Did I detect a slight air of disgust as he walked away? I think he must have smelled the chicken poop.

Playing Catch-up

I can't believe that it has been almost a month since I last posted. So much for the daily musings. Our maple syrup season ended two weeks early, but we were able to put up 3-1/4 gallons of syrup - not a gain from last year, but neither a loss. Papa bought a dozen fancy maple leaf bottles to use for gifts. They look very nice filled.

The boys finished the greenhouse, and it has been getting as hot as 120 degrees on a sunny day. Not bad for the tomatoes. I worked out there today for about an hour transplanting tomato seedlings into individual pots. I left the door open as I worked, only closing it when Angus Khan came near. (I wouldn't want to be caught in the greenhouse with him.)The lady chickens are very curious about the goings on in the greenhouse, but have yet to venture in for a tour. I did see a big, fat mouse scurry out under the wall. Perhaps he was after the corn seeds.

We now have over 100 tomato seedlings - a little over 60 Roma, and about 25 each of Big Boy and cherry tomatoes. The leeks and onions are going strong. These we placed on the ground where it is cool, but still light. The broccoli and cauliflower seedlings didn't last a very cold night. These we have replanted. A few peppers have finally sprouted. I also transplanted Edmund's cantaloupe.

Papa dug two small gardens near the greenhouse. He planted spinach and lettuce in one, and a row of carrots in the other. He has had to put up fencing around these to protect them from the ever scratching chickens and overly curious geese and ducks.

The upper garden is still very wet with areas of standing water. The water table is very high still due to the heavy rainfalls last week. The strawberry plants look healthy, however, but will require a lot of weeding, clipping of runners, and mulching.

I am full of hope this year that we will have a bountiful harvest. One thing I have learned, though, is to not count your chickens before they hatch. So we will work hard, and hope for the best.

A Visit From Mr. Tod

Our busy morning was interrupted today by a visit from our local fox. The boys heard the geese making a ruckus out back near the blackberry bushes. Will ran to the back window just in time to see a large, red fox snatch one of our ducks and take off for the woods. With adrenaline pumping, he jumped out the back kitchen door - a good 6-foot drop - landed on his feet, and began sprinting after the thief. The rest of us exited the house by various exits and letting up a great hue and cry, chased that old fox until he let go of his prey. The frightened duck hobbled toward us, and we were glad to see that the only wound appeared to be on her right leg. Joey said that the duck had been flapping her wings furiously, and this may have prevented the fox from getting a good hold on her.

We brought her in, and while Edmund and Will rounded up the rest of the birds (all of whom had scattered in a dozen different directions in their fright), and prepared a box for the injured duck, Joey helped me clean the bloody wound and apply some antibiotic ointment. The duck is now resting as comfortably as possible in a box in the kitchen. She is eating and drinking and making sure that the curious cats know their place. But, I watch her with a pessimistic eye.

Our many attempts at nursing helpless, wounded animals seems to end in more sadness than joy. Two hens succumbed this past summer to various injuries - one from a dog attack, another, we think, from the angry rooster. All I can tell the boys is that we tried to make their last hours as comfortable as possible, and like good masters buried them with the dignity they deserve as God's simple creatures. It is never easy.

We have had encounters with foxes in the past. When we first moved here, our chickens ran free for lack of fence. We began noticing trails of feathers and missing birds about a month into our residency. For three days in a row, one hen was culled from the flock - one even at 2 o'clock in the afternoon right outside our door. I began to fear for the kids, and wouldn't let them outside without Laddie .

One afternoon I looked out the kitchen window and saw a fox attacking our rooster. With a shout, I let Laddie out the door and he chased the culprit away. The rooster however was badly injured, suffering deep wounds to his neck which later infected. He died two days later. He must have put up a valiant fight - I have witnessed the protective nature of a rooster many times. We speedily erected a fence around the coop. The next day the fox came again, this time to find the hens safe and secure behind chicken wire. Perplexed, he lay down in the back field and stared for at least a half an hour at those hens. One can only imagine what was going through his small and devious mind. If I had Beatrix Potter's wonderful imagination, perhaps I would write a story...

Goosey, Goosey, But No Gander

Yesterday Edmund came hurrying into the house carrying one of the geese in his arms. He began a convoluted story of how he was going to gather the eggs, when he was waylaid by our tyrannical rooster, Angus. As he turned to run he noticed that something was amiss with one of the geese. She had somehow gotten her leg entangled in some fishing line, and the line was threatening to cut off the circulation to her foot. A chase ensued around the pond - Edmund running after the goose, and Angus after Edmund. Providentially, the dragging fishing line snagged on a stick bringing the fleeing creature to a halt, thus enabling Edmund to tackle her.

Unfortunately, Mummy was sick and in bed. So, into the bedroom Edmund brought the goose. As I inspected her leg, Joey ran to get a scissors. I struggled to cut the line free with shaking feverish hands. Out of one eye I watched the goose's bill come closer and closer to my ear. She was making sniffing sounds. Very ominous. (Edmund later sniffed me and said I smelled good and that was why she was so interested). I think she wanted to bite me. I was finally able to slip the tip of an embroidery scissors between the fishing line and her skin, and with one snip, she was free. She seemed to know the worst was over and began beating her wings and kicking her large, muddy, webbed feet all over the white coverlet.

Later, Edmund and William climbed into bed next to me with a pile of Beatrix Potter books. We spent a good part of the afternoon naming our ducks and geese after characters from her books. The rescued goose is "Ginger"; the other two "Cecily" and "Parsley" as one can't tell them apart. Three of the ducks now have names: Mr. Drake Puddleduck, Jemima Puddleduck, and Rebeccah Puddleduck. We're still deciding on the other two.

After several attempted catnaps in which one of the cats wakened me each time (is life ironic or what?), Joey came in to the bedroom for help with an essay. We worked and discussed great things, and got a good second draft going.

That evening, feeling better, I helped Mary make cherry jam. I can't tell you what a joy it was to teach her this skill. Perhaps one day she'll make jam for her own family.

All in all, these unexpected and precious moments with my children made up for the fact that I was unwell. It was a very good day.