how did I ever live without...

Steel-toe cowboy boots? Hooves don't scare me.

Bellows? Essential for keeping the home fire burning.

A good bedding fork? Two-day chore turned into a two-hour chore. 'Nuff said.

Super-mega-candlepower spotlight? Because sometimes you really need to light up the barn...from the house.

Welded wire fencing? Makes an instant garden fence, instant chicken corral, instant tomato support, or, y'know - fencing.

Leather work gloves? Get YOUR OWN. Get as many as possible.

Insulated bibs? They will change your life. Farm chores in freezing rain and 30 mph winds? No problem.

for all the climate change naysayers...

We were supposed to get snow today. That is pretty unusual in itself. We seldom get snow at all around here, and when we do, it typically doesn't arrive until January, or even February. I was all psyched for a nice, snowy Friday at home working by the wood stove, only to get up this morning and find that all calls for snow had been rescinded. I was so sad. Why would the powers that be cheat me in this way? All that snow that was supposed to ours surely didn't just vanish. Surely it turned tail and went elsewhere. Someplace more deserving of its charms. Someplace like Nebraska or Colorado or...

Houston?!!?

That's right. It is apparently snowing in Houston. So put that in your climate pipe and smoke it.

Happy Thanksgiving!

shameless plug!

Can't get enough chicken in your day? Need to see more dog nose? The 2010 farm calendar is now available! (See link at right) Makes a great gift for all of your would-be homesteader loved ones. Or, y'know, for yourself. ;-)

every day is a mixed bag

I'm learning that there's no such thing as a good day or a bad day on the farm. Well, they're rare, in any case. Every day seems to bring with it a (mostly) balanced mix of little successes and failures, catastrophes and strokes of brilliance, pleasures and annoyances.

We've started letting the Margenes out to free range. They're about four months old now, and nearly as big as the big girls. It was time for them to taste freedom, to make their own way in the world. Time to kick them out of the nest, as it were. When I opened the door for them for the first time, it was quite a show. A couple of them tentatively stuck their heads out to peck at the green grass just across the threshold. Suddenly there was a rumbling from the back of the house...a few over-eager girls started flapping their wings madly, annoyed by the slow progression forward. Finally their pent-up enthusiasm could no longer be contained, and they all came bursting out through the door in twos and threes, semi-airborne, wings fluttering, as if shot from a cannon. They looked like Fourth of July artilery shells with feathers and beaks.

When you first let young pullets out to free range, you can expect some losses early on. They're novices at this, you see. No street smarts. It takes some time and a few misfortunes for them to get the hang of things. We lost one overnight last night*. It seems she didn't make it back in before we closed the door, and went unnoticed behind the house in the waning daylight. I discovered a sad pile of feathers up against the back wall, where she must have tried to settle for the night. This is what I mean. You can expect some of this in the beginning. At least one or two will unwittingly venture into the dogs' yard and not make it out. Another will wander off alone, never to be seen again. As badly as I feel for these poor early casualties, they serve as a warning to the others. Chickens aren't stupid. They learn what to do and what not to do.

My dismay over this finding was tempered by another. This:



I swear I looked at these plants yesterday, and...nothing. But today...today we have broccoli! Well, we have itty bitty broccoli, but...still. Broccoli seeds are incredibly tiny. Broccoli plants are enormous. This never ceases to amaze me. It's just incredible that something so small can contain so much. I've never attempted to grow broccoli before, so this discovery thrills me. Such are the endless tiny dramas of farm life.

See? Mixed bag.

* Tara's Law of Poultry Attrition : Whichever breed of chicken you own the fewest of, or whichever is most rare will be the first to perish, virtually without exception. If you have 50 Barred Rocks and ONE Silver Spangled Hamburg, guess which one will be the first to meet an untimely end? This rule also applies to whichever particular bird is your favorite. The one I lost last night was a Buff Orpington, and while they are not rare, I had only two (out of 50-some-odd total chickens). Now I have one.

in case you were wondering...

This is why I don't post more pictures of the goats....

the chicken coop is started!

Finally after many weeks of rain and mud, we were able to start the coop! We got the concrete poured and with the help of my brother and his girlfriend, the floor is in place. Once we were able to get started, this part went rather quickly. We got this far in just a couple of hours, and it was a huge relief to just finally get started - to have something to point to.



I asked the goats if they would mind giving us a hand, but they declined.



I suspect they're annoyed that the chickens (!) will have nicer digs than theirs.

Construction continues this weekend, so stay tuned.