Cooking From Scratch

I know, this sounds like a no-brainer blog post, but I got such a great laugh from this article that tears were coming from my eyes.  It's reprinted by permission from Backyard Poultry magazine (Volume 7, Number 2, April/May 2012 issue.  Page 10).

"Where Do You Buy 'Scratch?'"
I own the Solaas Bed and Breakfast where I also have some really spoiled chickens that have to be held every day.  One of our guests sent me this funny story after a stay with us.. . .(from Sharon Solaas, www.solaasbnb.com in Idaho)

My mother never let me help much in the kitchen.  As a result, my cooking ability was practically nonexistent when I got married.  But I did remember Mother mentioning to her friends that she's made cakes, pies, and other things from scratch.  So my first priority after the honeymoon was to locate some scratch.  With mother's delicious cakes in mind, my first trip to the supermarket was to buy some scratch.

I found the aisle that read "baking items."  I spent a good 15 minutes looking at everything from vegetable oil, sugar, flour, and chocolate without seeing a sign of scratch.  I was sure it wouldn't be with the pickles or meat.  I asked the clerk if they carried scratch.  He looked at me funny and finally said, "You'll have to go to the store on the corner."

When I got there, it turned out to be a feed store.  I thought it rather strange, but I decided cakes were feed.  "Do you have scratch?"  I asked the clerk.  He asked me how much I wanted.  I suggested a pound or two.  His reply was, "How many chickens do you have?  It only comes in 20-pound bags."  I really didn't understand why he mentioned chickens, but I had heard mother say she made chicken casserole from scratch so I bought 20 pounds and hurried home.

My next problem was to find a recipe calling for scratch.  I went through every single page of my lovely Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook, given as a wedding present, looking for a recipe calling for scratch.  There I was with 20 pounds of scratch and no recipe.

When I opened the scratch I had doubts that a beautiful fluffy cake would ever result from such a hard-looking ingredient.  I hoped with the addition of liquids and heat, the result would be successful.  I had no need to mention my problem to my husband as he suggested very early in our marriage he liked to cook and would gladly take over anytime.  One day he made a pie and when I told him how good it was, he said he made it from scratch.  That assured me it could be done.

Being a new bride is scary and when I found out he made pies, cakes, and even lemon pudding from scratch . . .well, if he made all those things from scratch I was sure he had bought a 20 pound bag also.  But I couldn't find where he stored it and I checked my supply . . .it was still full.

At this point, I was ready to give up because all the people knew about scratch except me.

I decided to try a different approach.  One day when my husband was not doing anything, I said "Honey, I wish you'd bake a cake."  He got out the flour, sugar, eggs, milk, and shortening, but not a sign of scratch.  I watched him blend it together, pour it into a pan and slide it in the oven to bake.  An hour later as we were eating the cake, I looked at him and smiled and said "Honey, why don't we raise a few chickens?"

I hope you got as much of a laugh out of this as I did!  Have a great night!

Here we go again.

Well folks, I thought I had enough chickens.  Apparently I don't.  My friend Keena just got a breeding pair of Swedish Flowers and, after doing more reading, I must have some. 

Photo from Greenfirefarms.com, the original importers

Photo from chickenchatter.org & feathersite.com

According to debswhisperwoods.com, there are still only about 1,000 of them existing in scattered flocks.  Who would have thought?  Not only are they gorgeous, but they're supposed to be endearing, confident, calm, and non-aggressive in addition to being great layers.  They're also hardy.  Who could NOT want them? 

I'm sure glad that my hubby is as patient as he is.  He's also a good carpenter, which helps because I think I'm going to need 3 more full size coops.  And tractors.  And electronet. 

The good news on other fronts is that we're holding steady on the rest of the chooks--no more losses, and the Yoko/Phoenixes are due soon.  Wonderful Scott is out in the garage building a tractor for the broilers now.  YAY!  I'll get them out of the screen porch!  The littler chickies are about old enough to start spending the day in an outdoor pen in the yard.  They'll love it, I'm sure.

Have a great night folks, and say a prayer for my hubby.  He needs all the help he can get when faced with my chicken addiction!

RIP Banzai

Folks, mourn with me.  We lost Banzai tonight.  I'm still not quite sure what happened, but I noticed that she wasn't eating much today.  I carried her in my hand this afternoon, and the next time I went to check on her, she was dead. 

She was a tiny bit of loveliness.  I feel like I failed her, but I don't know how.  Yeah, I know.  She was just a tiny chick.  Some of you might think that's trivial.  She was a tiny chick with a huge heart. 

So listen to these songs and think of that tiny warm fuzzy chick nestled in your hand, peeping in her sleep.  Banzai, we'll all miss you.

please ignore the ad   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y8AWFf7EAc4&ob=av2e


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5GLwA4P3QDk


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1g9Hs3rnd6s

Eat Your Greens

Well, I can't believe it, but my chicks (except Banzai) are 2 weeks old today.  They've grown so much and put on so many new feathers that it's hard to recognize some of them.  Of course, I spend so much time staring at them that I've gotten used to their new looks, but these definitely aren't the teeny chickies that I got!

I think the most amazing part of their growing up is that they're now eating the greens that I pick for them.  Henbit, chickweed . . .they love it all.  Heck, even the big messy broilers are starting to eat their greens when they can get motivated off their fat butts to find the pile. 

I even found one of the broilers IN THE FEEDER this morning.  It's meant to be a hanging feeder.  It has an open top.  So here's this bird just laying there amidst all the food.  I'm pretty sure it was upset when I took it out.  I just hope it didn't tell all the others how to get more feed.  Gack.

It's tractor time for the broilers.  Scott has one in the works.  Little does he know that he'd better just build 3 at a time.  If it stays warm and dry, the little chicks will go out into a pen in the next few days (of course, back into the brooder at night).

I'm still not quite sure what to do with Banzai.  Should I try to reintroduce her when the other eggs hatch?  Or should I keep her separate as a pet?  She already knows that a hand coming into her box means snuggle time.  She doesn't even flinch, whereas the other chicks still run from a hovering hand (and yes, I handle them daily).  I'd rather not learn the hard way about a hen not accepting a chick . . .but this IS Beautiful Sweet we're talking about.  I think she'd mother a horse if she could. 

So, the jury's still out on that one.  In the meantime, EAT YOUR GREENS. 

Forced to Forage For Fence

Well folks, it's been an interesting day.  Trying to keep Baby Banzai warm enough without overheating the bigger chicks is quite the challenge.  I have her set up in a shipping box over the brooder since she's WAY too small to put in with the older chickies.  So, I have the heat lamp set up and pointed mostly at her.

The problem is that the chicks are in the mud room on the west side of the house.  That afternoon sun comes in and heats up like crazy.  Banzai would peep because she was cold, so I'd plug in the lamp.  Shortly thereafter, the bigger chicks would be panting.  ACK. 

So I had a brainstorm.  Why not replace the 250 watt bulb with a 100 watt one and point it right at Banzai's box?  The others should get enough warmth.  Errr, yeah.  Since they've been used to a red bulb and I replaced it with a white one, the bigger chickies have suddenly decided to try out their wings.  They're fluttering around in there more than a debutante before her first ball.  Hawkeye even fluttered up to the open end yesterday, and must have been telling stories.  All of them are now trying to get to a high place and go flapping around.

So I thought I should probably put some fence over the top to keep them in, since the name Banzai is already taken.  I thought I remembered that there was some over by the Yokos' coop.  Yep, and I almost tripped over it in the dark.  Then I got to straighten it out and have the fun of trying to anchor it to the top of the brooder.  YAY.  It doesn't cover the open end.  DOUBLE YAY.  I thumbtacked a blanket over the open end and I hope like crazy that it works.

Still, the white light lets me see my beauties.  They're really feathering out and developing some gorgeous patterns.  Wanna see?

I'm a NEW MOMMY!

Even though my tubes are tied, I'm a new mom.  OK, OK, it's not a human baby.  Maki and Sushi the Yokohama/Phoenix cross chickens have apparently been getting busy.  Since my Silkie went broody, I thought I'd let her set some of their eggs.

My *ahem* darling son thought he was "helping" and broke two of the three I had set out.  I rather figured that the first might not be fertile anyway, so I put three more under Beautiful Sweet the Beautiful Sweet Broody. 

You could have knocked me over with a Silkie feather when not only the first one turned out to be fertile, but so were the others (which are due to hatch in about an extra week).  Yeah, I thought.  Just my luck, this first one will either not hatch or be deformed and have to be put down.  The first hatch was due tomorrow, so I thought I'd go out and candle tonight. 

Imagine my surprise when I opened the cage and heard very tiny peeping.  I knew I had to pull her so that my broody hen would set the rest of the fertile eggs.  She's so very TINY!  (Yes, I'm pretty sure she's a she.  She has the wild color pattern and her dorsal stripe doesn't break at the neck.  I wonder if she'll be a silver duckwing like daddy?)  I thought I'd call her Wasabi, since her daddy's name is Maki and her mama's name is Sushi.  Well, I set up a box for her and the fun started.

There were handholds cut out in the box.  Since I'd put hay chop in the bottom and lined it with paper towels (covering the handholds), I figured we were OK.  Imagine my great surprise when I suddenly heard a tiny little *thump.*  She'd jumped out of the handhold and landed on the floor (3 feet down).  With my heart in my mouth, I picked her up.  Within minutes, she was fine.  Pretty precocious for her first day, don't you think?  So, Wasabi she is not.  Banzai is her new name. 

So here she is.  Please join me in welcoming Banzai into her first day of life--she's had a rough day already!  (sorry some of them are blurry)

Down In The Dumps

I wonder why people think that just because I have a farm, that it's OK to dump their unwanted animals out here.  Yeah, I'm a rescue worker, but usually that involves personal contact with the person needing to rehome a pet.

I've seriously thought that there might be an animal newsletter that has a permanently running ad:  "If you want to leave your home, go to Shana's.  She'll feed you."  Lord knows enough animals have come running to the call.

Even when I lived in South Texas, the critters were coming.  Someone dropped a beagle puppy in my carport.  I spent a day or two trying to figure out what that strange noise was that was coming from behind the Harley.  Of course I fed the poor baby when I found her.  I called her Comet (since my then-current pup was named Ajax) and found her a good home.  I think that was my introduction to rescue.

One day down there, a feral chicken showed up in my front yard.  Steph and I tried to catch her, but she seemed to be a racing chicken.  We let her go and I thought nothing of it until my wonderful pup Dakotah (Gods rest his soul) brought me a baby chick in his mouth.  The chick was pretty wet with dog spit but unharmed.  Sure enough, that crazy chicken had her babies in my backyard.  I got plenty of giggles watching her and the chicks climb up the hibiscus bush and onto a tree branch, where she'd settle over them for the night.  Dakotah used to check on them until mama hen flew up in his face and pecked him hard between the eyes.  120 lb dog vs 5 lb chicken = mama hen wins.

So here we are on the farm.  One of our first "dumps" was Claire.  Whoever her previous owners were, they're really missing out on an awesome cat.  She hunts EVERYTHING smaller than her.  She eats snakes.  I had to raise my birdfeeders so she'd quit picking off the cardinals.  Still, she's sweet and friendly--if she finds you outside, she's twining around your legs, sitting on your lap, or perching on your shoulders. 

Here's Claire dispatching a snake for me. 

She's a Siamese mix (probably Flame point, with light ice blue eyes) and an awesome hunter.

At least I think she's fixed (since she hasn't had a litter in the last year) but still, somebody dumped her.

The other day, my darling hubby saw someone possibly dumping a dog out here.  I haven't seen said dog, but I hope like heck that it wasn't dumped.  Still, city folk, it's best to ask the surrounding farmers before you let your dog out for a run.  You see, we have dogs too.  We're not looking for a fight, and you probably aren't either (at least if you know what's good for you).  I fully understand wanting to let your pup stretch his legs a little, but have a care for who lives around there and who has dogs already.

I did voluntarily bring home some new barn cats.  One lives at Barb and Ralph's (she's a beautiful calico named Dolly).  Jack the Cat-ken (she thought she was a chicken and lived in the coop) hasn't been seen for about a month now.  I'm wondering if she found a better coop.  Still, the idea of people dumping their pets has always bothered me.

I mean, seriously.  If you can't keep your pet, what makes you think I can?  Why did you get a pet if you can't afford it?  (And thinking of Claire--REALLY?  How much does cat food cost?  REALLY?)  Why would you abandon a family member to the whims of nature or someone else?  Your dumped animal has less than no chance of becoming a pampered indoor pet if you dump it on someone's farm.  Even with ME (the biggest softie ever)--outdoor cats are outdoor cats, period.  I don't need any more dogs.  So what have you gained if you dump your pet?  I sure hope you can sleep at night after you think about it.

Yeah, go to Shana's.  She'll feed you.  Maybe I'll get lucky and someone will dump a Guernsey or an Angus calf out here.  Unless you want to dump a cow (or possibly a milk goat or a hair sheep), please stay away from my property.  I have enough, thank you.

It's Raining, It's Pouring

OK, so maybe it's not POURING.  Thank goodness.  It has been raining pretty much steadily for the last 2 days.  I'm starting to feel like a mushroom.  The horses are walking around in a swamp and even the chickens smell like wet feathers.

Still, there IS something just plain great about rain.  Things around here (especially weeds) are growing so fast that you can almost hear them as they strain towards the sky.  Even weeds, with the exception of the accursed poison hemlock) are great--I can pick them for my chickens to eat.  They love chickweed, clover, stickweed, you name it.  The anticipation of seeing what will spring up first in the garden is a delicious anxiety.  Will it be the peas, or the lettuce?  How are the potatoes liking this?

And isn't it amazing how everything does better with rainwater, as opposed to "hose" water?  We can put all the sprinklers we want to in the garden, and they do help, but just a little bit of rain makes those plants shoot up like there's no tomorrow.  Even when we had a "lawn" that we maintained, one hour of rain made it grow better than a solid week of hose watering.

I think the best thing is that finally I can hear the rain.  I grew up in a house with a flat roof.  I loved falling asleep hearing the rain drumming above me and knowing that I was safe and sound.  I didn't appreciate it until I moved into a succession of houses and apartments that I couldn't hear rain in.  No matter how lovely the condo or spacious the house, I found myself missing the sound of rain on the roof.

So now I'm lucky enough to have a home that lets me hear the rain, in many versions.  Sometimes it softly thumps on the roof.  Sometimes it rattles against the skylights.  Sometimes in a heavy wind, it clacks on the windows as the gale makes the gutters howl.  Sometimes it patters on the bricks outside and sometimes it hisses through the trees.  Sometimes it's not even raining, but a heavy mist collects on the trees and sheds heavy droplets to land with soft splats on the ground below.

The kids sing "rain rain go away, come again some other day."  Sure, sometimes rain is a pain in the rear when I have to put on a slicker and wellies to go out five times a day.  But the beauty it gives is more than enough payback.  I'm a sunlight lover, but without that lovely rain, where would we be?  I guess it's just part of growing up and learning to enjoy the rain so that I can better enjoy the sun.

Besides, it just so happens that I enjoy dancing in the rain too.  I'm glad it's getting warm enough to do just that.

Out of the Broiler Pan, Into the Fryer

Many of you might be familiar with how very patient my husband Scott is, and how tolerant he is of my chicken addiction.  I think I pushed him a little far today.

I ran into Tractor Supply meaning to get some dog food and just 5 or 6 broiler chickens (to make sure I know how to kill them, and have enough to give some to Russell--the nice man who's going to show me how to process).  Well, as things often do with me and chickens, it rather spiraled out of control.  I had heard from a friend I made there (and added to the Facebook Kansas Poultry Swap) that they were putting the older broilers (Cornish Rocks) on half price to make room for the newbies.  Perfect, I thought.

Well, I got there today and Margaret wasn't there.  Marilee was there though, and said I'd have to take at least 6.  OK, no problem.  Then she looked thoughtful and said "would you take all 18 for 50 cents each?"

I had to catch my breath too.  What else could I have said but YES!  Heck, they'd already been fed for me for several weeks (saving me on feed) and were originally selling for $1.99 a chick.  So not only do I get a markdown on price and save on feed, but I get older, more hardy chicks.  I was sure Scott would kill me.  I had no idea where I could put them.  Still . . .(I was thinking that it was better to ask forgiveness than permission here!)

Hey, there was an old refrigerator box in the garage.  I have duct tape.  I have an extra brooder lamp.  I found tarps to put over and under the box (since it's supposed to rain for the next few days and they'll have to live in the screen porch), cut down the box, taped the living daylights out of it, smacked on the tarps and a rug over the top to keep the tarps down, and got ready to put the chickies in.

Folks, my little fluffy egg layers will be a week old tomorrow.  They're still tiny little poofballs that weigh almost nothing.  I grabbed one of the broilers out of the transport box and just about bugged my eyes out.  This thing is HUGE!  A handful plus some!  Granted, most of them are between 2 and 3 weeks old, but GEEZ!  I knew they grew quickly but lacking personal experience, I didn't know just HOW quickly.  Chalk it up to a learning experience.  They also seem to have most of the feathers rubbed off their breasts.  I'm pretty sure that isn't normal, but it sure doesn't stop them from eating.  They eat more than my kids, and I'm not joking.  At least I can have them on deep leaf litter. 

Except for eating and drinking, they sure don't move much.  I guess I wouldn't either if I had size GG boobs.  At least for now they're quiet, but I have a pretty good suspicion of who the cockerels will be.  I want to get them processed before they start waking me up like Maki did, since they're under my bedroom window again.

So now I'm up to 33 new chickens, with 8 more on the way in April.  That's not counting my existing 13.  If you ever doubted that I was the Crazy Chicken Lady, please cease and desist your doubting now.  If it'll dry off, I have a cage I can pasture them with.  I simply cannot wait to taste my first home pasture raised chicken.  And heck, with this many, I'll have some for family and friends . . .and time to raise another batch!  Good thing we all like chicken!

So here ya go.  The Flock Currently Known As Dinner.

None of the above chickens will be named, period.  I wouldn't want to limit myself on recipe ideas.

Yes, I am worried about the lack of feathering on the breast.  Still a very docile bird . . .and HUGE.

So there you have it, folks.  These indoor raised, coddled chooks are about to spend their first night in the screen porch, with storms forecasted.  We'll have to see!  Maybe I'll invite everyone over for some fried chicken, baked chicken, boiled chicken, chicken stew, chicken fricasee, chicken parmesan . . .(OK, I know, I sound like Bubba, LOL). I sure hope the weather dries up a little bit (and I can get a decent chicken tractor built) so I can start pasturing them.  Here we gooooooooo!

A Full House

I got a very unexpected phone call yesterday evening. It was Orscheln wanting to let me know that they were still holding my four Ameracauna (OK, probably Easter Egger) chicks for me. The last person I talked to said that they hadn't come in the shipment, so I found another way to get some.  Imagine my surprise, since I'd been calling them twice a day and given up, hadn't gotten any other notification, and had already settled my others in! 

Scott being the patient person he is, let me get these anyway. So any of you out there that live nearby, I'll have PLENTY of eggs to sell this fall! Here are the new cuties:

They're the four lightest ones in the last 2 pics, the lightest 2 in the first pic. They're still nameless, but won't be for long.  The other four I got are the "wild" color pattern (stripes down their backs--the one between the newbies in the first pic is also an Ameracauna) so I really wonder what color these girls will turn out to be!  This puts me at an even 15 in the brooder box.  YIKES!  I haven't even gotten the broilers yet!

Still, the little peepers are incredibly tough for not even being a week old yet.  I have to turn the brooder warming lamp off at times because even at the prescribed 95 degrees, the chicks are panting and lethargic.  I turn it off and they zip around like crazy.  That's with the windows in the mud room open as well.  I guess I made the right choices for cold-hardy breeds--here's hoping they'll do well this summer too.  I've still got my freeze bottles if they don't.  Aaah, life with chickens!