Meet Blue

I have a new man in my life.  Meet Blue.

This was taken three weeks ago, when we brought him home.  He's an Australian Shephard.  Kev knew a lady who gave him to us for free.  Usually Aussie's sell for big bucks.  He's from working parents, so they could have gotten a lot of money for him.  Instead, they generously gave him to me to love.

We haven't had a puppy for 10 years, since Midnight came to live with us.  I'd forgotten what a new puppy means...  Taking him potty, taking him out to poop, taking him to the pen.  To bed, to play.  I'm sleeping with one ear open again, waiting for him to let me know that he needs to go outside. Just like I did when my kids were babies! Oh for the oblivion of a full nights sleep again!

But it's short term...right???

 Here's Blue today.  Yes, he has a sore, red eye.  The vet is pretty sure he's going to lose it.  I mean, he'll lose vision in it.  If he hasn't already.  We're not sure if he jabbed something in it or if he just had an infection.  He did have a goopy eye for a week, but I just thought it was something like my cats get...Not.  So, on Monday, we brought him to the vet.  We got antibiotics and eye ointment and have been trying to save his eye. Because he has to have his medicine 4 times a day, he comes to work with me.  (Yes I cleared it with my Boss.  And if he gets too rambunctious, we'll stay home.)  After seeing the Dr. again today, we're pretty sure he's going to be blind in this eye.  (And it was his BLUE eye!)  Still not sure if he poked it with a stick or something or if it's just an infection.  If it isn't better on Friday, the vet wants to sedate him and look to see if there is something in there somewhere.

At this point, I don't care if he loses his sight.  I just want him healthy again!  He and I can deal with blindness.

He's been such a good boy.  He has gotten carsick two of the past three days coming to work.  Today, I didn't give him as much dog food.  Which must have worked--he didn't get sick today!   But I bring a little "diaper bag" for my baby.  It has a baggie of food (in case he got car sick again.)  Some snacks, a rawhide chew bone.  Water, a towel, and sock that he likes to chew on and drag around and his wolf beanie baby.  And his blanket.  See, it's a diaper bag!

He comes in on his leash (and at 12 weeks, he's young to do so well on a leash.)  He makes the rounds of the library with me to open up and then he comes in the office and lays down on his blanket and sleeps.  We go out to potty and then it's time for lunch.  I've had some errands at noon lately, so he just rides with me.  Today, he felt well enough to run around and "chase" me outside.  Then he either takes a nap, or checks out the college kids.  When we get home, he goes with me to let the big dogs out of the pen and he chases and runs with them, mauls the kittens, and hangs out.

I'm hoping we can leave him home again next week... and we can if his eye heals enough that we can leave off the cone and if he doesn't have to have medicine 4 times a day...

Regardless, he's my baby and the new man in my life.

If I die in the Chicken house

Yesterday I spent a little bit of time out with the Girls.

 The ones with feathers who live out in the Chicken Mansion.

I spend time out there regularly, I just don't take the camera.  I've got two baby chicks I'm raising.  I started with three, but one got out and was pecked to death.  With the price of pullet chicks these days, I wasn't very happy with the adult girls and chewed them up one side and down the other.

They're just like my kids and ignored me.

My remaining two chicks--two Americana's--are doing well and growing quickly.  I gave them a strawberry yesterday, but they didn't know what to do with it.  It was still there this morning.  I imagine I should just give up and give it to the adults.  THEY know what to do with a strawberry!  Anyway, while delivering the strawberry, I noticed that the young chicks were out of feed.  So I grabbed the feed sack to remedy that situation.

I was minding my own business, chatting to the young things, as I opened the feed sack when something jumped out at me and ran up my arm!  I let out a shriek, dropped the scoop, stood up, tried to knock that thing off me, at the same time it ran back down my arm and across the back of the chick pen behind the adult's feed barrel.

It's a wonder I didn't wet my pants too.

Once my heartbeat resumed it's normal pace, I calmly finished feeding the chicks and exited the building.

No one heard me shriek--and it was a shriek!  No one came to see what was wrong.  No one seemed to notice I wasn't in the house.  It was almost like the day I locked myself in the Chicken Mansion...no one noticed.

So, if there comes a time when you don't hear from me for a couple of months or more--call my family and have them check the Chicken house to see if I'm in there, dead.  Obviously, they won't notice if I'm gone!

Orphans

June 15.  That's the last time I blogged.  I'm bad.  Very bad.

Let's see...it's been 100+ since June 15.  No rain to speak of since June 15.  We've finished Miss Kat's summer Volleyball season.  She still has weight lifting and practice 2 days a week, which is good for her.  The garden is doing much better this summer than last.  We're eating lots of Zucchini and Summer squash.  I've canned and froze carrots, made pickles, and relish and even canned and pickled beets.

The last week, I've been busy being a substitute Mommy.  We found 4 orphaned kittens, but we lost 2.  They lasted a week, but both black kittens died on the same day, last Tuesday.  I'm not sure if we just didn't feed them enough, or if Fletch "mothered" them too roughly, or if they just weren't meant to make it.  We all were sad, but we're determined to keep the other 2 alive, and so far, so good.

I think the babies were 3 weeks old when we found them.  It's been two weeks and yesterday, I successfully got them both to drink and eat from a saucer and to use a litter box.  Prior to this, Fletch has been acting as the Mommy, and taking care of the hindquarters much like a mother cat would.  You do know that mother cat's lick babies bottoms to stimulate urination and defecation, right?  Well, Fletch has performed that duty for us since the day we brought the babies into the house.  Those kittens would eat from their bottle, and then waddle over to Fletch for their "bath".  They'd lay down or turn their hindquarters towards him, and he'd lick away.  He's not always gentle, and sometimes, he'd flip one end for end with is extra large tongue, but he mothered them!  I, for one, was happy to have him provide this service.  But, they are old enough now to be box trained, and it went fairly easily.  One pooped in my lap (on a towel fortunately) and one pooped on Andy.  Come to think of it, it was the same kitten...

Anyway, that was a signal to me that they are now old enough to go by themselves.  So far, I'm using a cardboard box with sand in it.  These guys will NOT become house cats, so I'm hoping sand will make for an easier transition to the outdoors.

I decided it was time to move towards weaning on Saturday when both kittens decided to chew on the bottle nipple instead of suck, and both attacked the bottle.  Moving to the saucer has so far, proven to work fairly well.  They still tend to suck up the milk rather than lap it, but I mixed some ground chicken meat up into it and they devour that chicken.

 We haven't really named them...maybe because we don't want to get too attached, but one is being called PITA (short for Pain in the A...) because he has to be held. Not on a lap, but on a shoulder.  He will climb up a body and not worry about any skin that is bare.  He (or she) has also been known to sink those tiny claws into lips and ear lobes, innocently purring all the while.

The other baby doesn't really have a name other than "Short Stack" or "Baby."  He's not as agressive of a climber, but does like to sleep nestled beside anyone sitting on the couch.  Either with us, or behind the couch.  This baby is a pale yellow tabby, so pale that he almost looks white.  A dirty, yellowish white.  PITA is solid gray, my favorite color for a cat.

We don't have any idea what happened to their Mamma.  We suspect coyotes.  We've lost several of our cats in the last two weeks (at least six), making us wonder if the drought has been hard on field mice and rabbits, causing the coyotes to resort to catching our cats.  I hope this trend ends soon, we depend on our outside cats to keep mice, snakes and other critters away.

Regardless, we're doing our best to keep the cats remaining at our place, including the two little hooligans living in my house.

Ridin' Miss P

It rained here Saturday night.  Not a lot, but we don't turn away any drops of rain.  I do know what caused it to rain...

I rode a horse

It's been 10 - 12 years since I've ridden.  Both the horse and I survived the momentous occasion.

Kev got up Saturday morning and asked me if I wanted to go to the ranch with him to pick up rock.  Since I think the ranch is just about one of the prettiest places on earth, I jumped at the chance.  He loaded up the trailer while I got dressed and we hit the road; leaving my sunglasses and my camera at home.

When we got to the ranch, Dad was on horseback, cutting out a sick yearling from the herd.  I could watch him ride and work cattle all day.  He might be pushing 70, but Dad still sits tall in the saddle. He wasn't very happy to have another sick steer, because he's lost several from this shipment.  He likes to keep his death rate less than 3%, and this shipment of cattle is ruining his percentage.  We helped him doctor 2 steers and I fed the other sick ones he had doctored yesterday while Dad and Kev drug out and disposed of a steer who died in the night.

After we helped with the sickies, Dad asked me if I wanted to ride his mare, Puta to the stables.

Did I hear him right?  Did  he just ask me to ride the horse to the stable, and did he really call her Puta?

Puta is a not-very-nice word in Spanish.  I was flabbergasted that my father said that word, and that he named his horse that word.  He informed me that yes, it was her name, and no, he did not name her.   (I decided to call her Miss P.)

I jumped at the chance to ride to the stables.  Fortunately, I was wearing my boots, so I was good to go.

Normally, Dad's work horses are 16 hands tall.  Apparently, over the last few years, he's decided he likes to be closer to the ground, and Miss P is not 16 hands tall which meant I could actually get my foot up in the stirrup without any trouble.  Dad's legs are still a little longer than mine, so I couldn't get my feet completely in the stirrups which mean Miss P would have to stay at a walk.  Dad assured me that she's a good gentle calm horse, so I didn't have to worry about her deciding to run off with me.

I headed towards the stables leaving the men to do whatever they were doing.  But, I forgot exactly how to get there.  Did I have to go clear back to the house? Or could I cut across the pasture and go in the back way?  I looked around and decided to take one trail that looked like it would circle back to the stables and we headed out.

Miss P wasn't really eager to go where I pointed her, but she acquiesced and we headed down...to the junk pile.  Ugg.  I should have listened to the horse.  I apologized to her, and let her have her head and we headed in the right direction.  About this time, Dad and Kevin came back up the road looking for me.  They'd already been at the stables, and not seeing me there on on the road, got worried and headed back hoping I wasn't laying dead somewhere in the grass.  It was nice knowing they had such faith in my riding abilities...

They then made me pose for a photo, which Dad took using his phone.  (And which I hope never gets transferred to any other device or printed.)  The way they acted, you'd think I hadn't been on a horse in 10 years or so... I rode down to the stables, and we turned Miss P out with the other horses.

My day of riding was over.  But, I'm thinkin' that I just might not wait another 10 years to ride!

A Little Surprise

Sometimes, there's a BIG surprise waiting in the nesting box. 

 This wasn't one of those.

 This was a little surprise.

This poor little egg isn't much bigger than the quarter!  And, yes, it's a chicken egg.  Sometimes, this happens.  I'm assuming it's from my hen that is just now old enough to lay eggs. 

Her eggs are usually larger than this one.

We are also assuming it's empty, or almost empty.  We will not be breaking it open just to find out.  Instead, this little feller will have a home on one of my shelves.

Where it can live, safe and sound, AMEN.

Kev's deer--2011

I didn't hunt this year.  Primarily because of the tendinitis, but also because Andy and Kev both had permits and I just didn't see the sense in having three deer in the freezer.  I kept busy enough this fall that I didn't miss hunting much, until Kev would come home and share his day, or Andy would describe something he saw.  That's when I missed hunting.  Not the harvest, but just being out in God's Church.

Kev got his deer the end of November/first of December.  (I can't remember!)   He had somewhat of a frustrating season, as he never saw any Mule deer.  We're assuming that this summers drought and heat was hard on them.  In fact, Kev didn't see the amount of deer he normally does, which frustrated him immensely.

 This guy is a white tail.  Kev rattled him in and took his shot.  He's not trophy class by any stretch of the imagination, but Kev typically doesn't trophy hunt.

 He did have an interesting little "claw" on the tip of one antler that Kev thought was cool.

He also had either been shot before, or had been wounded in a fight.  See that dark spot on his forehead?  That was a nasty wound that wasn't healing very well.  Be thankful I didn't get a closeup.  It was ugly.

We hung him up in the shop and the guys butchered him the weekend Mom, Kat and I went Christmas shopping.

I still need to go re-arrange my freezer.  Men, they just don't understand organization :)

This weekend is the final weekend of the season.  Andy hasn't filled his tag.  He can--now in this late season--use either his bow, or a rifle and get a doe.  He says he wants to try still with his bow, so doesn't think he'll switch.  We'll see.  My guess is he'll go out with his bow and come home without a deer.  That's fine.  We've got a freezer full again and we're butchering pigs again next weekend.  I don't think I have space for another deer!

Fletch

We finally got a dog.  Mr. Fletch came to our home on December 17.  We got him from the Humane Society.  Fletch is 2 and is a lab/English spaniel cross.  That's what we were told anyway.  Who knows if anyone really has any idea of his pedigree.  Here's a picture of Fletch, looking out the sliding door.

 

 That first day, Midnight totally ignored Fletch.  If Fletch entered a room, Midnight left.  But, they soon came to a truce and co-existed those first few days.  Since it was the start of my Christmas Break, I was home with they "boys" for two weeks which gave them plenty of time to get acquainted with each other, and for Fletch to get acquainted with us.

 Since we don't allow our dogs to be on the furniture, Fletch decided that the bay window was his spot.  Which is fine with everyone, even me.  However, I find that I have to wash that window more often because it gets covered with dog kisses now.

 After about a week, Midnight decided that Fletch was OK, and he lowered his dignity enough to "play".  It was half-hearted, but they did play.  By the first of January, they played a lot.  Inside, and outside.  Midnight has always been a timid dog, but he's mentoring Fletch fairly well.  He's taught Fletch that they stay in the yard instead of chasing cars.  (Fletch is slowly catching on to that.)  When they are outside, Fletch will watch Midnight to see where he can and cant go.  One thing Fletch needs to learn quickly is to leave my chickens alone.  He's been punished  for chasing them several times and, unfortunately, he was severely punished for killing one. 

He's also had to be punished for marking the couch in the basement...and helping himself to a stick of butter from the counter... and Kev's waffles...but he's learning.

He still isn't sure exactly where our boundaries are, because he ran toward the cattle in the neighboring pasture one day.  I called him off, and he came right to me, but he watches them from the bay window and growls at those trespassers.  He'll learn.

He's adopted Andy, and sleeps with him.  He'll get up in bed with us, but he wants to sleep between us, and that just won't work.  He's a good quiet dog and he did so well at Christmas with all the extra people of all sizes at our house. I think we got a good dog. 

Today will be the first time they'll be penned all day long.  Let's hope they both are good dogs and are in the pen when we get home tonight!

One last final shot. Of Midnight.  He wouldn't pose with Fletch, and I just had to take his picture...although, from his expression, you can tell how he enjoys photos!  Poor guy :)

Midnight, the escape artist

Two weeks ago, we lost our Lab, Emily.  It was a sudden, unexpected death. 

Kev and Andy were home with her and they buried her in our pasture.  While they were taking care of Em, they made sure that our other dog, Midnight, was with them the entire time--to ensure that he knew where Em had gone and that she was gone.  They were buds. 

For the first couple of days, Midnight would look for Em.  He wouldn't eat because he was waiting for her to eat.  He would go around the house and look for her.  When we'd let him out, he'd wait for her to join him.  It was heartbreaking.

He'd go to their pen and wait for Em to join her and would look at us with such pitiful eyes when we'd shut him up alone.  We've always penned our dogs when we're gone for the day--to ensure their safety, and the safety of my chickens and goats (when we had them.) 

Last week, Midnight got out of his/their dog pen.  He then tried to get into the house.  We found pieces of the brick molding from around the door scattered on the ground.  The trim around the door itself was destroyed.  There were claw marks in the siding and even beside the garage door.  (We have cedar siding, so it's relatively soft.)

I checked beside the sliding door upstairs, and discovered a nice "hole" in the trim and a pile of splinters.  I wouldn't put it past him to figure out how to open the sliding glass door.

Andy and I discovered that he'd chewed a hole in the chain link of his gate and pushed through it.  We blocked it (we hoped) and made sure we left him toys and chew treats the next day.

He was out when we got home.

Kev spent the weekend reinforcing the gate and put up some stock panel on the gate.  It's a heavier gauge than chain link, so he was fairly confident that it would deter more escapes.

It didn't.

Midnight was out again last night.  He didn't chew through, but had pushed the gate frame enough it's stretched and created a gap large enough for him to squeeze through.  And this time, he tried to open the screen door on the sliding door.  He managed to yank the screen door completely off--but left incriminating teeth marks on the aluminum frame.

Obviously, he doesn't like being alone in his pen.
Obviously, he doesn't like rawhide bones, beef bones, or chew toys.
Obviously we have a problem.

We either need to find another dog--soon, or figure out a way to stop the destruction.  If we can't...well, we won't think about any other options at this time.  He's a good dog...most of the time...he's just never been alone and obviously doesn't cope with being alone well.

It's frustrating.  I'm not so sure our house can survive Kev's remodeling and the dog...

Tree stands and Monarchs

I realize that the official start of Fall is 2 days away, but since the heat wave broke, it feels like fall. Deer season opened last weekend. It's still to hot for anyone at our house to hunt--especially since we process our own meat and we can't let it hang when daytime temperatures get up to 80.

Last Sunday, Kev, Andy and I went to the farm to hang up another tree stand and to scout for deer. That's Andy, up in his tree stand. He's a handsome lad...all black and all...


I took the camera along, hoping to see some Monarch Butterflies. Last year, when we ran out there with Mom and Dad, the cedar trees were full of Monarchs...and there I was, without a camera. There weren't as many butterflies this year--either I missed the peak period, or there just weren't as many Monarch due to the heat and the drought. But, I managed to get a few pictures of uncooperative butterflies. The one above is the best shot. I just held the camera up above my head and had the zoom on max and prayed that I got a shot!

You can see a slight hint of orange in this one. If you look in just the right spot...I told you they wouldn't pose!

Just the shape of the wings here. Let me tell you, it's hard taking pictures of Monarchs when you just have a point and click camera and your subject doesn't cooperate at all!

We also saw a Tarantula. Seeing him made me wonder if the farmers were drilling wheat yet. Around here, it's time to drill wheat when you see the Tarantula's migrate. My fella wasn't migrating--he was just hanging around. And yesterday, we saw several guys drilling wheat. Which proves you need to listen to those old "wives tales!"

Other wildlife we saw included our resident doe with 2 fawns and a gecko. I hoped we'd find a horny toad, but no such luck. Maybe next spring...

Two posts in two days...I'm on a roll!

Too hot to butcher

If it wasn't 108 outside, I'd butcher a few of these guys and gals... Mainly because...the young-ins have started laying! Whoo hoo! This week, I've gathered 4 pullet eggs. They are a little small, but they're layin'!

The older girls just have quit. Out of 15 hens, I've been getting 2-3 eggs a day. Well, I was until it got so dang blamed hot. They've given up almost completely on laying. But now, the young gals, who can tolerate the heat slightly better--or are too young and dumb to know that they can "shut her down" during the heat--are laying.

Which means that I'll soon need to cull the flock.

I was ready to cull last night...those "free" seven roosters who came with my 25 pullets this past spring are really making me mad. They're horny. They're aggressive. They pick on one poor rooster all the time. They're horny. They won't leave the hens alone, and, did I mention that they are horny?

I've had enough of their shenanigans and am willing to butcher, but it's just too hot.

The light birds are my 3 year old hens. The darker ones are the youngsters. That big guy in the middle is the King. He has 2 inch spurs and does try to keep those other young whipper-snappers in line, but he's just one guy and has decided that it's too hot to chase the boys around. Just call him "Rosco P. Coltrain." He's doin' his best, but the odds are against him! He's not getting culled cause he's the nicest Rooster I've ever had. He's begging me to do something about those delinquents...I will, I will...

Just not till it cools down...like November.

In my freezer...

In the freezer, you will find packages that look like this... Or this...

And then there's this...

And sometimes you'll get a little love...

The freezer is just full of specially labeled meats that you'll never find in your grocer's freezer!


(I take credit only for the bacon wrapping. The rest were labeled by Miss Kat...in this instance, the apple didn't fall far from the tree...)

Spring & babies

It's spring and babies are abundant at our house these days...

These girls are NOT babies.
Now, these girls are babies.

25 Buff Orpington Chicks, who will someday look just like those biddies above. They arrived last Wednesday and are enjoying their nice big, new brooder that Kev made. They're also in the nice clean chicken house that got cleaned out just a few hours before they arrived. Word of advice: Don't clean out your chicken house when the wind is blowing 20-30 mph. No matter how hard you try to stay upwind, you won't, and you will have chicken "litter" in your hair, in your eyes, in your nose and even in your mouth.

Right now, I also have these precious babies.

Except they aren't so precious anymore. They are now 2 weeks old. In these pictures, they are just a week old. But now, they are bigger, they drink their bottles better and faster, and they twine themselves around my legs and feet and cry for me all the time. But they are still cute. And I'm not keeping them. They belong to some friends of mine who were a little overwhelmed with bottle babies this spring. So, they are only mine until they're weaned.

For the first few days, I kept them in the garage and took them outside when it warmed up. Emily followed them around, smelling, mothering, and being annoying--to me. I don't think she bothered the goats much.

The kids are now living in the chicken house with the chicks and chickens. The hens really don't enjoy having these energetic kids around all the time, but the kids don't mind; they enjoy chasing those old biddies!

We also have at least two cats who've had kittens. I haven't gone looking for them, but I hear them everytime I'm in the shop.

Spring and babies...they just go together.

A night at the auction

Kev and I went to the "Small Animal" Livestock auction last night. We were shopping for pigs to butcher this weekend. Now, we have pigs already lined up, we were just hoping to get some for a cheaper price.

This was our first time at this particular auction. When we got there, they were auctioning off chickens and other poultry. We saw quail, lots of roosters, some pullets, several peacocks and even parakeets. Kevin wouldn't buy me any peacocks. The cheapskate...on the other hand, while I appreciate their beauty, I really dislike their voices. So, I'm glad he didn't buy me any. I was confused by the parakeets--there were 8 cages of them with 10 to 12 birds in each cage. I think each cage sold for $10, but why on earth would you want a that many parakeets? You can't eat them, can you?

We've been told that the local Mexican population will drive up the price on chickens--paying as much as $10 per bird. While there were a lot of Mexican folk in the stands, not many were buying and as near as I can tell...these chickens didn't go anywhere near that high...unless the bid price was per bird in the cage and not the total for the cage. I'm not sure...see, we couldn't understand the auctioneer.

I hate the auctioneer "song". Some, you can understand, some you can't. The two last night were in the can't understand category. Most good auctioneers make their starting point clear and then you can follow along as they try to get a higher bid. These guys last night mumbled something terrible and we struggled to understand what the bid exactly was. At times, we figured it out, at other times, we had no idea. And it's not like we haven't been to auctions before!

After we watched the birds sold, they auctioned off a box of...crap. Tape, gloves, two camo hats...crap. Up next were some rabbits. I have no idea what they went for; I simply couldn't figure out what the bid was. Then came some calves. The first few sold for around $200, after that, they sold for $100 or less. Calves were followed by some cow/calf duo's. But most of the cows were either Longhorns or other beef type, not milk cows although they had one who was very tame and they said she could be milked. They also threw in some newborn calves with heifers (not their mothers) which I thought was interesting. Most of those sold around $600 per pair. I tried to get Kev to buy a couple of them too, but he just sat there and pretended not to hear me.

Finally, they brought in the pigs. Two boars sold for--I think--$700 each. Then a couple of market/butcher sized pigs...but we couldn't understand the darn auctioneer to know what they were going for! We could never figure out what they sold for. Then they brought in groups of pigs--6 or 7 at at time. Most weren't big enough to butcher yet, and you had to buy the lot. Since we didn't want to be stuck with 4 pigs we couldn't butcher yet, we passed.

From there, the pigs got smaller and smaller. Feeder pigs down to pigs just a few weeks old. The little pigs sold for $10 each. If we had a pen...we'd have bought them, but we don't, so we passed. They then brought in a Pot-Bellied pig. A sow. Behind her, they brought in a dozen or more Pot-Bellied piglets. At least two of the piglets belonged to the sow who wasn't happy about being separated, and the piglets were so little they went between the bars of the pen, running straight to their mama. The sow sold for $200, but the piglets...all of them went for a grand total of $1.25. Crazy.

At that point, they moved on to goats. We didn't stay for the goat auction. Maybe because we wanted to go home, maybe because Kevin knows I have a real weakness for goats and I might have bid on some...and he didn't want any. So, we went home.

We decided that we should go again--and maybe pick up some feeder pigs and feed them out ourselves. Of course that means we need to build a pen. I'd really like to pasture raise pigs which would be easier on our land, but I'm not sure how successful that would be out here with just 2 acres of pasture, no trees and not a lot of water. The auction was fun, but it would have been better if we could have understood the auctioneer and if we could have found the pigs we wanted. Who knows...maybe next time we'll go home with a goat or two, some pigs and maybe even a cow and calf...you never know what I'll talk Kev into buying!

A tale of cats, chickens, and mice

This morning, as I went to get feed out for the chickens, I discovered 5 mice in the feed barrel. The level of feed was low enough that mice couldn't scamper back up and out. They were trapped.

I don't hate mice, but I also don't necessarily like them either--especially if they are running across my feet or up my legs. I tried to convince the chickens that they should come back inside and catch these mice...after all, a little protein would be good for their health...

The stupid chickens decided they would rather be outside eating sunflower seeds and enjoying the sunshine instead of catching mice inside. They felt that I was better suited to handle the situation.

So, I did what any other country girl would do...

I went outside the pen, grabbed the yellow tom and showed him the buffet dinner. It didn't take him long to literally jump in and grab a snack. He then jumped back out and took his tender tasty treat outside. That worked so well, I went and grabbed another cat. I showed her the feast and she immediately deserted my arms for the smorgasbord. The third cat I selected was afraid of my attentions. I had to put her into the feed barrel and she sat there, confused as three little mice ran around and under her tail. She finally noticed the delectable morsels running around her feet, made her selection, and departed. This left two slightly panicky mice. By this time, Cutie, our former house cat, now outside cat, came over to see what I was doing--giving attention to these other cats and not her.

Cutie immediately assessed the situation in the feed barrel and took matters into her own paws--deserting me for a tender mouse snack. I had one mouse left, but the other cats who were around aren't exactly tame and wouldn't hear of me picking them up. By this time, Cutie had finished her snack, I decided to see if she was hungry enough for seconds. She was.

The chickens were right...I did know how to handle the situation. Who needs chickens when you have cats.

Jinx

I should have kept my "mouth" shut yesterday.

Last night, Ifound the chick's body--minus it's head.

Stupid cats.

Stupid me. I jinxed it.

I did suggest to Kev that maybe he should build me a brood house for "next" time. He gave me the look and just suggested that "next" time, I seperate the chick(s) from the hen and raise them like we do store bought chicks.

I'm gonna work on my plan, and work towards a brood house--or brood tractor. Maybe then...I can raise a chick.

New baby

We have a new baby at our house.

Or, at least we had it when we left the house this morning.

One of my hens hatched a chick. I found the chick on Saturday, but I think it probably hatched sometime on Friday because by the time I found it on Saturday morning, it was dry and fluffy and very cute. Mama was still sitting on 3 more eggs Saturday morning and Chick was spending most of it's time under her, but made a lot of noise.

So, I got out one of my chick feeders and filled it with all purpose chicken feed, wheat and black oil sunflower seeds. Then I found a waterer and filled it up and set it near Mother and child.

So far, so good!

But they did give me a scare Sunday night.

I went out to shut everyone in for the night, and no Mama or chick. I just knew one of the stupid cats had decided to have chick for supper. But, I counted my birds and I was one short. So, I went outside and there on the ground was Mama. I could hear the baby--under Mom. So, I picked up Mom and baby and put them back inside the chicken house. They meandered over to "their" corner and the chick nabbed a bite to eat and got a drink before Mom told it to come to bed.

I've enjoyed watching them. Last night, I tossed some food scraps out--to the chickens. I could hear the chick, but wasn't spotting it. Finally, I found it, right beside it's Mama's head. If Mama pecked something, so did the baby. They really liked the tomatoes, and the biscuits best.


Come dark, it was the same as Sunday night...all the other chickens went inside, but my little family. I watched as Mama settled herself down on the ground and the chick ran right over and nestled under her feathers and a top her feet. It was too cute.

But, I know it's not safe to be outside with 40-leven cats roaming in the dark. So, again, I picked the two up and put them back inside the safety of the Chicken house.

So far, so good! Maybe I'll finally raise a home-born chick...

I have another hen who's broody. However, she started sitting before this Mama did. So far, nothin. So, I'm going to give her till this weekend. If she isn't successful--and I don't think she will be--then I'm going to brave her beak and toss her eggs.

In the meantime, I'll watch my little family and hope that chick has a long and happy life.

Porcupine

Can you see him? Can you tell what he is?

None of these are what I'd call good shots, but these are pictures of a porcupine. Kev and I stumbled upon him while we were checking out our treestands. He was on one side of the creek and rapidly went up the bank and up this Locust tree. And, while you look for Porky...check out the thorns on the locust branches! I'm not sure which is worse...porcupine quills or Locust thorns.

I wasn't about to get any closer. He was big and he had these things called quills. I've been told that quills hurt! I have to say that he moved faster than I thought he could and he climbed up that tree pretty fast too.

Several years ago, we saw two procupines up by the house. They were black. This fella was brown. Sorry my pictures aren't better, but if you want better shots of him, then you can be the one to brave both the Locust thorns and the porcupine quills.

As the egg "turns"

Only one short week, Andy and I candled all the eggs from the refrigerator. All were nice and clear, no baby chicks.

This morning, Kev made me a bacon, egg and cheese bagel for breakfast. I was happily munching away on it when Andy came upstairs ready to make his own breakfast. He decided that my bagel looked good and decided to make his own. I was in the living room, when I heard him say "ick". (Or something to that effect.)

I asked if he had a bloody egg, and he said "yes." He carried the egg out to the cats and I suggested that he break the next egg in a bowl first. The next thing I heard was, "Mom, don't look under this paper towel. You won't like what's there."

"What?" I asked.

"There was a baby chick in that egg."

Of course I looked. And sure enough, I saw a mostly developed chick. Suddenly, that egg I had just eaten wasn't sitting as snuggly in my stomach. I have seen chick embryos before--in pictures. They didn't bother me much. I can now say that seeing a picture of an embryo is much less disturbing than seeing a "live" one resting in a cereal bowl. (But, I can tell you that I did take time to mentally note that chicks really do develop from the white, not the yolk. Yes, I'm weird that way.)

I carried the bowl outside and shut my eyes as I set it in the grass for the cats. Of course there were no cats to be found, so I actually had to holler "kitty, kitty." Mama cat made a beeline for the bowl. I didn't watch.

Once back in the house, I candled the rest of the eggs in that carton and threw away 3 more eggs. Two were dark and cloudy, the third definitely had a little chick shape floating in it.

Tonight, I'm going to candle every stinking egg in the fridge and then I'm going to go out to the chicken house and talk to the girls. Someone needs to stay on her nest better. Then, I'm going to figure out a way to mark the nesting boxes so I can better track which one has had a broody girl sitting on it. Either that, or make sure that only one of us gathers eggs so we'll know which boxes to avoid...

Oh, Andy didn't have eggs for breakfast. He had bacon and pop tarts. He said that eggs just didn't sound good right now. I have to say, that I completely understand and agree with him. Eggs just don't sound good right now.

special eggs

I'm a wee bit annoyed...tonight, when I get home from work, I will have to candle every stinking egg in my refrigerator.

Why? Because of one stupid Hen and one typical male.

Andy's job is to bring in the eggs every evening when he shuts the girls up for the night. We've had two girls go broody and they chose to brood in their nesting box. Not the best place to hatch eggs, but I've been afraid to move them for fear that they would abandon their nests. They should be half way through sitting.

I'm usually out there myself every day or two, just to check on things, but right now, taking care of the girls is Andy's responsibility.

This morning, I went out to let the girls out for the day and discovered that one of the girls had moved. She wasn't sitting in her normal box and that box was empty...

Empty...no eggs, no hen...which means that Andy probably, without thinking, brought them to the house. And he should know better. He's been helping me take care of the chickens for almost 1/2 of his life!

There's nothing worse than cracking an egg for breakfast and finding a bloody mess, or worse...a half developed chick.

To avoid this happening, I'm going to have to candle every stinking egg in the fridge tonight to make sure they are all safe.

And right after I do that, I might strangle a 19 year old boy who should know better.

Humm ... ... maybe I'll set aside a couple of "special" eggs just for him to crack open for breakfast...

Anybody wanna see pictures of that?

The sweet smell of...

My house stinks. Literally.

Evidently, early yesterday morning, we had a nocturnal visitor. The perpetrator was never seen, but left evidence in a most olfactory way.

I smelled him when I woke up.

I smelled him when I took my bath.

I smelled him in the kitchen.

I could really smell him out in the shop.

One kitten was killed--by the odour by a personal assault, we're not sure which.

We were still smelling him last night.

This morning...not so much. Either the scent has wore off or we got used to it.

Stupid skunk.