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!

Chicken Run

Jersey Giant.  I think I will name her Andrea.

They're heeeeeeere!  Eleven new cluckers, including a Black Copper Marans, a Barnevelder, a Welsummer, a Jersey Giant, 2 Silver Laced Wyandottes, 4 Ameracaunas, and one "stray" blue Silkie.

As most of you know, I've been planning for them since January.  I thought it'd be easy to just go to Tractor Supply and grab a few Ameracaunas.  Apparently they're a popular breed this year, and even the Orscheln that was supposed to have them this week didn't.

Enter my new friend Keena.  I'm not the ultimate authority on chickens, but she calls me for clucker advice.  Hopefully I haven't steered her wrong!   Well, after the deal at Orscheln fell through, I posted madly on the poultry swap site that I was in dire need of Ameracaunas or Easter Eggers.  I mean, I've planned for rainbow eggs . . .what's a rainbow without blue or green?  Keena came through.  She called a friend of hers at her local Orscheln, went in first thing this morning as soon as the chicks came in, and grabbed the 4 I wanted.  She also picked up a cage that another friend, Nicole, was holding onto for me.

While Keena was getting my chicks, I was getting hers.  She had arranged to buy some Silkies from Susan, who lives just up the road from me in Galva.  It was so easy to meet her in Canton (and have a nice chat too!), pick up and pay for Keena's chicks, then head out for Florence to "do the deal."

It turns out that she owed me $5.  I (half) jokingly suggested that instead of getting change for a $10 bill, I'd take a Silkie.  Well, bless her, she said yes.  So, my "stray" blue Silkie came home.  My daughter thinks I should name her Blueberry.  Well, at least that's a fairly non-gender-specific name just in case it happens to be a rooster. 

So these little balls of fluff are jetting around the brooder like waterbugs.  They're eating and drinking like there's no tomorrow.  I guess I would too if I'd spent 2/3 of my life at the mercy of the postal system, living off my yolk sac.  Every now and then, one will nod off a little bit, or just fall over asleep.  I forgot they do that--this morning, the one I'm pretty sure is the Barnevelder (her name will be Barnie) just flopped over.  OH MY GAWD DON'T DIE!!!!  YOU WERE EXPENSIVE!!!  When I started breathing again, I noticed that she was too, and in about a minute popped up and zoomed for the food again.  They also seem to need some time to get their "land legs."  Every so often, one will trip over her own feet and go rolling.  You should see them flap their little tiny wings.  ADORABLE!

Who am I kidding?  I'm in love.  I'll share some pics with you so you can enjoy the cuteness too!  (You'll just have to imagine the contented peeping.)

Scott very kindly built this brooder for me.

The first round that came in the mail:  pretty sure it's (from left to right) Silver Laced Wyandotte, Welsummer, Jersey Giant.  Second row:  Black Copper Marans, Silver Laced Wyandotte, Barnevelder

Sleepy Ameracauna

The gang's all here! (at least this batch!)

And yes, I have begun to name them.  Not only do we have Blueberry the Blue Silkie, we have Wy and Dot the Wyandottes (say it out loud, you'll get it), Barnie the Barnevelder, Ginger the Welsummer, Juliet the Marans, and Hawkeye the lightest Ameracauna.  I expect that I'll name the rest of the Amers one of the following (you've got to say these out loud too!) Miss Teak, Miss Steak, Miss Demeanor, Miss Information, or, my favorite, Miss Cellaneous.

Gotta run--I need to check the brooder lamp for the umpteenth time today!  Have a good night, peeps!

Busy Busy Busy

I'm busier than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, a one legged man in a butt kicking contest, a one-armed paper hanger with a mosquito bite on his knee, a gopher on a golf course, and mustard trying to ketchup all rolled into one. 

See folks, I'm trying to get chickens arranged.  The ones I wanted that were SUPPOSED to be at Orscheln today . . .WEREN'T.  So I started a mad scramble of telephone calls to find some within a reasonable distance, plus pretty close in age to the chicks I'll be getting tomorrow.  No joy.  So I posted it on the Kansas Poultry Swap on Facebook, and thank goodness there are people willing to come through for me.  Keena, if you can find them for me, pick up my cage from Nicole and meet me, I'll be more than happy to pick up your Silkies.  Heck by that time, both of us will have covered half the state.  So I've been orchestrating that.

I spent quite a bit of time on the phone today.  Most of it was work, but some of it was talking to a friend because he needs someone to talk to.  He's one of the wonderful guys that checks out my firearms for me, and it just so happens that he's laid up in the VA hospital at the moment.  Yeah, it ate up quite a bit of my day, but he's got fabulous stories to tell.  The best way to have a friend is to be one, so I love listening to him talk and giving him a little bit of crap to cheer him up (if any of you know bikers, that's normal).

Most of the rest of the day was occupied by talking to folks about this farmers' market that I've been made the chairwoman of.  Mind you, the closest I've ever gotten to that was running a lemonade stand (that failed miserably) 30 years ago, but I think I can make it work.  Still, the sheer TIME involved in creating documents, contacting vendors, contacting charity groups that might want to serve a meal as a fundraiser, and trying to network with the other markets in our area is nothing short of ridiculous.  YOU try to do it with a 4 year old yammering in your ear.  That's all in addition to planning our produce so I have enough to sell at the market itself, plus keeping the critters fed, the family fed, and keeping us all in clean clothes and dishes. 

I actually got so mad at some of the state regs today that I had to put the paper down, load my pistol, and go shoot some cans.  So it's OK to sell apple pie (that I could have blown my nose in) but not (boiled) smoked eggs still in the shell?  It's just peachy to sell produce that some wild critter might have peed on, but I can't sell canned pickles?  Then there's the packaging requirements.  Folks, I always thought when you bought from a farmer's market, you knew you were probably buying something from someone's personal kitchen.  You took your chances.  After all, you were supporting local food and local economy.  I guess times have changed.  I might have to go out and shoot some more.

So I guess I'll add taking on the food system to my list.  In the meantime, I still plan to have fun with my family, my critters, and my farm.  The world WILL change, one step at a time, in the right direction.  Sleep well folks, and imagine my little chicks coming home tomorrow!

Vend-A-Bait

Folks, it's been a rollercoaster of a day--mostly headed UP UP AND AWAYYYYY!  I got way too little sleep, but got Caitlin to the bus on time.  I got Arthur rounded up and headed in to TSC for some chick feed (because they might get here TOMORROW!! YAYYYY!).  While there, I congratulated myself on not buying the 5 or so Silkies (and yes, this time I'm SURE that they were Silkies) that were in the Miscellaneous Bantam tank.  See, I'm getting better.  I don't have to buy every Silkie I see.  I still WANT to, but hey.

We dashed home and got Arthur some lunch before heading off to the Marion Pride Committee meeting.  I had pate for lunch.  Trust me, chicken liver pate can be delicious.  The kids beg for it.  Anyway, long story short, I got nominated and seconded to be chairman of our local farmers' market this year.  I feel like a deer in front of a Peterbilt.  People, the closest I've come to this was running my lemonade stand for one afternoon about 30 years ago.  Oh well, I DO have some ideas that I think will work well for everyone.  Apparently I have a latent marketing gene that's coming to the surface.

So, talking to my mom today (as I usually do), we discussed what I'm going to sell at the market.  Folks, I'm diversified all over the place.  Umpteen kinds of produce, eggs, feed bags made into tote bags, firelighters (for the campers I hope to pull in from the lakes) and maybe even bait worms once we get ours started.  The laughing memories ensued.  It probably didn't help that I'm in the mood to go walleye fishing.

You see, I was raised Mennonite, but I went with my mom to the Pentecostal church she liked for a while.  On the way there, every Sunday, we passed a machine.  A very unique machine.  I'm rather sorry we never stopped to get a closer look.  It was called "Vend-A-Bait."  Now stop and think about that.  Vend-A-Bait?  How do you sell bait from a machine? 

Are the minnows trained to swim up a pipe and into the cup when they hear quarters?  (and if so, how do you get them to stop?)  Is there a little kid in there earning his allowance reading the buttons and counting out your worms?  Can worms be bruised and traumatized by tumbling down the chute, thereby minimizing their fishing effectiveness?  Exactly how much stink bait can you get for a dollar?  Do people really use it as "Texas Sushi" (pick up the goldfish and swallow it)?  If there were minnows or goldfish in there, how did they get fed?  The prevailing image in my young mind though, was that the only way this could work was that there was a giant tapeworm in there rolled up on a stick (kind of like toilet paper).  Each quarter got you a segment.  Hey, give me a break.  I knew that tapeworms had segments, but apparently I wasn't smart enough to know that you can't use them for bait. 

Are you done laughing yet?  Dang, I keep having to wait for you to wind down.  You're giving me a complex here. 

You didn't believe me, did you?  Here are some pics.

Photo from http://static.flickr.com/183/443122012_586facad1e.jpg

and here's the more modern updated version. 

Photo from http://surferjerry.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/live_bait-vending-machine.jpg

Scott looks at me funny (how come he does that so often lately?!?) when I tell him I want to own one of the old Vend-A-Bait machines.  Heck, maybe I could use it to raise some of those fancy Canadian nightcrawlers.  We could get people from all over the county since the local bait shop went out of business.  I even have kids I could stick in there to count out worms.  They like counting worms.  It MIGHT keep them out of trouble.  MIGHT.  NOT.

At least I'm not going to stock a tapeworm on a stick.  I should probably start training those minnows though.

You Can Quote Me On This

The current issue

First off, I'd like to thank the lady at John Deere that sent me so many back issues of their magazine "The Furrow."  They have some terrific permaculture ideas for large scale farmers that really educated me on that end of the scale!  One benefit of their mag is the fun and philosophy section at the back.  I'll share some with you.

-Every day that is born into the world comes through like a burst of music and rings the whole day through, and you make of it a dance, a dirge, or a life march, as you will.  (Thomas Carlyle)

-To live in the presence of great truths and eternal laws--that is what keeps a man patient when the world ignores him, and calm and unspoiled when the world praises him.  (Honore de Balzac)

-An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered; an adventure is an inconvenience rightly considered.  (Gilbert Keith Chesterton)  kinda sounds like me, eh?

-Sometimes it is not enough to do our best; we must do what is required (Winston Churchill)

-There are two primary choices in life:  to accept conditions as they exist, or accept the responsibility for changing them.  (Denis Waitley)

-Little progress can be made by merely attempting to repress what is evil.  OUr great hope lies in developing what is good.  (Calvin Coolidge)

-No man is great enough or wise enough for any of us to surrender our destiny to.  The only way in which anyone can lead us is to restore to us the belief in our own guidance.  (Henry Miller)

-Facts are stubborn things; and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passions, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence.  (John Adams)

And I absolutely LOVE the Capsule Sermons.  Talk about a lot in a little!

-The most wasted day is the one in which we have not laughed.

-Pick your friends, but not to pieces.

-An unusual amount of common sense is sometimes called wisdom.

-Never point a finger where you never lent a hand.

-You can't wait for inspiration.  You have to go after it with a club.  (a personal favorite of mine!)

-The best remedy for a short temper is a long walk.

-The eyes only see what the mind is prepared to comprehend.

-It's not what we have but what we enjoy that constitutes our abundance.

-You will never plow a field by turning it over in your mind.

-There is no failure except in no longer trying. 

-A mistake is at least evidence that you tried to do something.

-If you saw yourself as others see you, you wouldn't believe your eyes.

See?  Not only do I get some great education, I get, well, more great education!  If anyone is interested, you can call them up at 913-310-8302 or talk to your local John Deere dealer to get yourself some copies.  You can also read it online at www.deere.com/en_US/ag/furrow/index.html They're not perfect (there was an article about Roundup Ready--aka GMO-- soybeans in one), but if you've got the sense to find the good articles about organics and building soil health without chemicals, it's a great resource.  Happy reading!

I've got friends in unexpected places . . .

OK, here's a link to the tune.  Replace "low" with unexpected and you'll get the gist. 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KXN7esF7THs

A few days ago, I got a message from a new friend.  Angie, this is you.  Mind you, I met her through an old classmate of my brother's.  She had a rescue chicken to place and Kip put her in touch with me.  She did find the hen a home, but in talking we found that we did have a lot in common.  We talk every now and then, and it's always fun.  So, she needed my address.  We'd been talking about having her and her hubby come out to the farm anyway, so I gave her my addy and told her to call for directions.  She said she didn't need directions yet, but she'd found a shirt that had me written all over it.  OK!  I wondered what in the world it could be. 

So I got it today, and sure enough, it's me. 

How incredibly cool is it that someone I've never met in person thinks of me when they see this?  How did she know what lengths I go to to avoid malls?  I always love to find friends in unexpected places!

Another example is the Warnicas.  I wanted some guineas to eat ticks since we always have problems with them out here.  Sure enough, they had them, and cheap.  It was my bad that I put them in a pen that they all escaped from, but talking to Brad and Dee was awesome.  It turns out that Dee used to live across the street from my parents before I was even a glimmer in their eyes.  They're awesome people--honest, easy to talk to, just plain good Kansas people.

Then there's Teresa.  She has made some of my dreams come true.  Like I mentioned a few posts back, I'd written off some chicken breeds that I wanted, but since she was willing to share an order with me . . .I'm getting them!  I would have never met her except on the facebook poultry swap.  How cool is that?  Then I got to collaborate with her on a farm animal swap.  SWEET.  Goodness knows I'll need those folks too--we're seriously considering raising our own grass fed beef next year.

And of course, cool goes without saying with my Yokohama/Phoenixes.  I spent half an hour today talking to my roo Maki.  He gives me some funny looks now and then, but he's very expressive as to levels of happiness.  Thanks, Candace (again, someone I wouldn't have met without the poultry swap) for some awesome birdies.  I can't wait to see what you bring me in April!

Barb and Ralph are also people I can't afford to take for granted.  They're our closest neighbors, and we share MANY of the same views.  If they weren't such amazing people, we wouldn't be able to make it out here. 

Amy Helmer Boudreaux, thanks for giving the heads up about prowlers in the neighborhood.  My dogs are inside and never hesitate to sound an alarm, but still nice to know to be on our toes.  I hope to get to know you better outside of this situation!

I'd also like to thank the rest of the folks here in Marion.  You've all been so great and receptive to me and my family.  I can't wait to start up the farmers' market this summer and bring people into our town . . .and not only ours, but hopefully collaborate with Hillsboro and Florence to stimulate us all.  Being on the Marion Pride committee has introduced me to so many folks and given me so many ideas. I can't wait to put those ideas into practice and build our town into "THE" place to go in Kansas.

Folks, friends--true friends--come from unexpected places sometimes.  Value every smile you see on the street.  Appreciate everyone who waves to you on the road.  They might be the people who help you tomorrow . . .or need YOUR help.  As long as you remember the Golden Rule and make it a personal goal to "one up" it, you'll be fine.  Do unto others better than you want done to you.  Pay it forward, and I can't stress that enough.  Goodnight :)

I Want My Mommy.

My mom and I haven't always had the best relationship.  Now that I'm a mom, I understand why.  She wasn't there to be my friend, she was there to raise me and do it RIGHT.  She was tough when she needed to be, and there were some times when she just had to walk away so as not to beat the crap out of me (like I'm sure I deserved more than once). 

See?  This is how cool she is!  (granted, she's relaxed some since I grew up, but still cool!)

Thankfully now, I've found a friend in my mom. We conspire about seeds for our gardens, discuss chickens, talk often, and lean on each other.  She's almost as chicken crazy as I am, but I have yet to catch her onto the horse bug.  To give her credit though, she drove me out to a local horse owner when I was a kid just to let me hang out with them.  I think that Harold Thiessen was at least partially responsible for getting me hooked on Arabians!  (He must have conspired with Walter Farley.)

Well, when my mom and I didn't get along, I found "another mother."  Her name is Linda.  She's a tiny woman physically, but she's a giant emotionally and intellectually. 

Whenever I felt like I wasn't being understood at home, her patient reasoning helped straighten me out.  We lost touch several times, but reconnecting with her always feels like we take up just where we left off.  She's a true blue friend and I need her in my life.  Heck, my kids are her adopted grandkids!

Then there's my mother-in-law.  Yeah, MILs have been the butt of many a joke.  Mine is so awesome that you wouldn't believe it. 

That's her with my dad-in-law, another amazing person

She's not only an awesome lady, she's supportive, creative, and just plain fun to be around.  I'll bet all of you wish you had in laws like this.

So yeah, I want my mommy.  I'm just glad that I'm finally old enough to realize that that's the way it SHOULD be.

An open letter to Reader's Digest

Folks, I've been reading Reader's Digest since I was 10. I'm 35 now. My stepdad got me a gift subscription this last year, and I think he deserves his money back for this last issue. I didn't even PAY for it and I felt like I got gypped. And for the record, NO, you may not edit this email for reprint. Either you publish it just the way I've written it, or you don't publish it at all. I'm betting on the latter.

OK, so you no longer print the contents in a clear and concise manner on the cover. I can deal with that--it's marketing. I know. But now you no longer spread each humor piece throughout the publication, to be discovered like little treasures, you lump them all together. This once fine publication has now stooped to satisfying the "GIMME NOW AND MAKE IT EASY" trend in society. Shame on you.

Every article I want to read is constantly interrupted by pages and pages of ads for drugs. Not only am I not interested in any of them, you've made it a pain to get pleasure from any article. If you can lump all the jokes into one section, why on earth can't you lump all the ads into one section (preferably at the back) and let us get on with our reading?

Then there's the Titanic article. I've always been fascinated by what happened that night, and it just so happens that my daughter was born on April 15. So imagine my feelings when, in the middle of this terrific educational and emotional article, I turn the page to find another article with a ridiculous illustration on how to PRANK people. Seriously? You think that the tragedy of the Titanic is OK to interrupt with something that trivial? So, I dutifully paged my way to the continuance of the Titanic article, all the while being bombarded with advertisements that I have no interest in whatsoever. By then, I was growling and muttering under my breath.

But you know what? I haven't even gotten started. This issue was so absolutely full of TRIPE that it makes me angry every time I see the cover. It wasn't just the ads, it wasn't just the format, it wasn't just the interruptions. Sure, they contributed to my surly mood, but it all boils down to a specific article. Oddly enough, "Cheer Up" did anything BUT cheer me up. The only reason I've held on to this issue this long (instead of chucking it in either the recycle bin or fireplace where it belongs) is so that I can specifically address some points listed therein. You might want to get your head out of your ads and listen.

#2. "Urban living is a good thing. City dwellers take up less space, use less energy, and have less impact on natural ecosystems than country dwellers." What kind of idiocy is this? Where do you think city dwellers get their food from? Gosh, it's from country dwellers that have to truck their crops into the city to have them processed into fake food for the city dwellers. If that's not a huge carbon footprint, I don't know what is. We country dwellers can raise our own food on our own farms, thank you very much, without having to truck it or process it into fake food. Most of us country dwellers are experts at canning and dehydrating without adding preservatives or synthetic materials. " . . .but living in the country is not the best way to care for the earth. The best thing we can do for the planet is build more skyscrapers." How else do you care for the earth than by living on it, stewarding it carefully, and being in tune with its rhythms? I find the concept of building more skyscrapers amazingly ridiculous. So many people could live better and cheaper on just a tiny bit of land (like a backyard) and reduce energy use and the ever-powerful carbon footprint as well as building soil. Oh, and I enjoy being able to open my windows whenever I feel like it, walk around without bumping into thousands of other people, and eating fresh produce that was grown less than 50 feet from my own house. Somehow I don't think these skyscraper dwellers in their little "bubbles" have any of that.

#4. "The important stuff costs less . . .a candle providing one hour's light cost six hours' work." Folks, anyone who has ever made candles should be howling by now. OK, I'll grant you that it took time to go out to the beehive and clean the combs to melt for wax, or to process the tallow from slaughtered animals (and that's not counting the added products of honey and/or meat). Still, anyone should know that candles were NOT made one at a time, and provided WAY more than an hour's worth of light. They were also very carefully used to CONSERVE them . . .unlike today when we leave everything on because we can.

#5. "The environment is better than you think . . .rivers lakes, seas, and air are getting cleaner all the time." WRONG. With the advent of fracking (fracture drilling for oil), we create immense areas of chemical laden waste water that threatens my drinking water supply. With runoff (manure, chemicals, and offal) from industrial processing plants, feedlots, and commercial chicken/turkey houses--the same ones that supply those happy city dwellers--we are killing our wetlands, streams, rivers, and oceans.

#6. "Shopping fuels innovation . . .The more we specialize and exchange, the better off we'll be." HUH? Nature itself demands that we not specialize. Any time that you can look out over 100 acres and see only one kind of plant growing (specialization), you know that it's not naturally like that. Heck, if I was only good at making widgets, what kind of mom would I be? If I only knew how to raise chickens, how could I work with horses? Nature demands diversification. Hasn't the author ever heard of not putting all your eggs in one basket?

#7. "Global trade enriches our lives." I have to seriously wonder why the author is so proud of eating "bread made from French wheat, spread with New Zealand butter and Spanish marmalade," etc. Whatever happened to eating fresh, eating local? Why on EARTH would you buy butter from New Zealand (not that I have a problem with the country except that it's halfway around the world) when you could buy it fresh from your local farmer? Marmalade? Why not ask your neighbor lady for her recipe for jam and MAKE IT YOURSELF? Good grief. I think the real kicker here is the phrase that set me off about the whole article. Let's read it together: "Self-sufficiency is poverty." Read that again. What in the world is this guy SMOKING? Self-sufficiency is WEALTH. I'd be willing to bet that I get much more satisfaction in jobs well done (like a day spent canning the produce I've grown to feed my family through the winter, making my own jams and jellies, caring for my chickens who provide me with fresher eggs than this guy has ever tasted in his life, baking my own bread, and seeing how much healthier my kids are when they eat home-grown foods) than this guy gets from walking down the aisle of a supermarket and buying his Spanish marmalade. I'm RICH, and I didn't have to drive to get there.

#8. "More Farm Production = more wilderness . . .other things have increased too--the area of crops by 30 percent, harvests by 600 percent." Yeah, thanks to Big Ag and their genetically modified seeds. Oh wait, those genetically modified seeds are being phased out in Europe because they cause health problems, but we gobble them up in America and make room for more. Yippee. I'll bet he doesn't know I can get sued if the corn I raise on my own farm for my family to eat becomes infested with drifting pollen from GMO corn a mile away. Oh joy. " . . .farmers left them to head for cities . . .The world will feed itself to a higher and higher standard throughout this new century without plowing any new land." Ohhh Kay? So how are we going to do that if the farmers are heading for the cities? Right, use more GMO's. Got it. So what if they're not good for you? Oh, and let's cram a few more cows into those feedlots. They're already filthy, so what's a little more? That "free range" chicken you just bought at the grocery store? Sure, let's cram some more of those into the chicken house. They're not caged, so that's good, right?

#9. "The good old days weren't. Some people argue that in the past there was a simplicity, tranquility, sociability, and spirituality that's now been lost. That rose-tinted nostalgia is generally confined to the wealthy." Nonsense. Pure and utter HOGWASH. I'm definitely not wealthy in money terms, but that simplicity, tranquility, sociability and spirituality is what makes me rich. Yeah, I see ads for cute shoes. Somehow I think stiletto heels in the horse pen or chicken coop just wouldn't work. So, I wear my well-made work boots--simple. We raise much of our own food. Simple. Tranquility? I go hang out in the chicken coop just to hear them cluck and watch their little feathery antics. It beats reality TV any day and I get eggs too. Sociability? I am fortunate to be surrounded by great neighbors who (thank GOD) are always willing to stop to chat, help out, swap produce, or loan vehicles. I'm even volunteering in my new hometown to run a farmers' market. Sociability doesn't get any better than that! Spirituality doesn't necessarily mean religion. I can have a spiritual moment on that frigid night when I look up and see all the stars in the sky and feel as fragile as a piece of glass. I can have a spiritual moment when my horse snuffles in my ear and makes me giggle. Every time I pick up a freshly laid egg, feeling it warm in my hand with its perfect shell enclosing all those nutrients, it's a spiritual event that so very few have been fortunate enough to experience. "It's easy to wax elegeiac for the life of a pioneer when you don't have to use an outhouse." Yeah, pioneer life is hard--I freely admit that I call our farm "homesteading lite" but there are so many things you can do that ENCOURAGE simplicity, tranquility, sociability, and spirituality. None of them involve electronics, gadgets, imports, or debt. "The biggest-ever experiment in back-to-the-land hippie lifestyle is now known as the Dark Ages." Only to an industrialist. In case the author hasn't noticed, there are a growing number of people living off-grid or aspiring to. They want control of their own food, their own power, and their own lives instead of letting government dictate to them. Read Countryside magazine if you don't believe me. At least they keep their ads to the sides of the pages.

#10. "Population growth is not a threat." Ummm, if all the farmers are moving to the cities, who's going to feed all those people? Oops, sorry, I forgot. GMOs. And as to "eating better and better every decade"--Nope. They're just eating more processed fake food made with (wait for it . . .) GMO and subsidized grains. Yum! When you find out that that piece of steak on your plate was fed with dead chicken parts and chicken manure instead of eating grass, I'll bet you'll go running to those farmers. Too bad they already moved to the city.

#11. "Oil is not running out." Yeah, tar sands and oil shale. Wonderful. Let's frack in my backyard, let the waste water pollute my well AND the local reservoir so that not only will we not have drinking water, tourism to the lake (that keeps my town alive) will dry up. Oh yeah, and since fracking causes earthquakes (which aren't normal out here in backwoods Kansas), if I'm out riding my horses and get thrown during a quake and break my leg . . .at least somebody will have gas. YAY!

#12. "We are the luckiest generation." Well yeah, we are. Most of us, the author of this article included, really don't appreciate it. We now have the means and the freedom to . . .wait. Nope, we don't. I can't even start up a business selling homemade products unless I go into debt to build a government approved and inspected facility. Oh well, at least I don't have to wear a skirt all the time.

#13. "The best defenses against disaster are prosperity and freedom." The author really needs to join a 12-step program on this one. Just sayin.

#15. "We can solve all our problems." Well sure we can--by not following the views of the author. People being responsible for their lives would be a start. People not relying on bailouts would be a start. People getting actively interested in what they eat and eating RIGHT would be a start.

#17. "Optimists are right . . .For 200 years, pessimists have had all the headlines even though optimists have far more often been right." Yeah, because the vast majority of people that the media is selling to are those that live in the skyscrapers you want to build. I seriously suggest you read any or all of Joel Salatin's books (his latest one is "Folks, This Ain't Normal") and get a grip on optimism, as well as what farming SHOULD be. I'm a town girl who used to live in cities, and now I'm proud to be a farmer. I've got optimism coming out my EARS. And I promise you: I will NEVER EVER live in a skyscraper.

I'm not even going to go into detail about how every issue seems have articles about how to lose weight, burn fat, etc. How often are you going to flog a dead horse? It's really simple, folks. Eat naturally raised local foods. Get off your lazy butt and do some physical work. OOO, maybe start a community garden--you'll get the workout AND the food. Novel idea, isn't it? If you actually must write about health, try investigating Big Ag and GMO's. Food, Inc. is a good movie to get you started. Try researching what fracking can do to our drinking water. Get out of your skyscrapers and get back in touch with America.

Well Blow Me Down

pic from www.likelihoodofconfusion.com

This is how I've felt the last few days going out to do chores and check for eggs.  I'm in an eccentric mood tonight, so let's have some fun. 

YOU KNOW IT'S WINDY WHEN . . .

--The cold frames on the windy side of the house rise up and smack the windows, scaring the bejeebers out of you.

--The phrase "hold your horses" means that you get a grip on their necks to keep you from blowing away in a stray gust.

--You wonder how your chickens all developed the frizzle gene overnight

photo from http://www.small-farm-permaculture-and-sustainable-living.com

I can't wait to check out their site in depth!

but then you realize that it's just because those silly cluckers are facing in the opposite direction of the wind.

--You tie your children to trees just to see how high they can "kite" in the gusts (heehee, just kidding on this one, folks!)

--You seriously think of making your vehicle a hybrid by adding a sail to the top because, with winds this high, you'd probably be going 90 miles an hour without using gas.  Of course, you'd end up in Canada before you knew it, but that's a minor detail.

--You have to hang on to your hat when you're outdoors because you don't want to chase it into the next county.

--You actually hope someone farts because it might "break wind."  (Extra credit if YOU try to fart.)

--You're thankful that you didn't have to live through the Dust Bowl.  Then you go to pick up a freshly washed dish and find dust in your bowl. 

--You intentionally move 60 miles away from Wichita and suddenly find that the whole city has blown into your backyard.  (Good one, Scott!)

--You have to move half a round bale of hay because the wind flapping the tarp around made half of the dang thing fall off.  And JOY, you have to fork it upwind.

--You wish that whoever it is down South that left their fans on would kindly turn them off.  That, or you wish that dang butterfly in Japan would quit flapping around.  (Chaos theory--one butterfly flapping can cause a tsunami halfway across the world)

--You don't whistle because the wind is doing plenty of that all by itself without you wrinkling up your face.  And besides, that might add velocity to the existing wind.  No thanks.

--You wonder why you didn't set up one of those windmills to generate electricity.  You could probably get enough electricity in one week like this to last you for a year.  Of course, if you set it up now, it would probably fall over, wreck your fence, let your horses out . . .you get the picture.

OK, now here's the challenge.  If you have read this far (and I hope you have), it's YOUR turn.  Please comment with your own response.  (you may have to sign up for Google, but it's free and they don't spam you.)  I've given you some giggles, so I want some too!




 

I'm So Egg-cited!

As most of you have read, this weekend has been a whirlwind.  But, life on the farm goes on.  Chores have to be done, kids have to be chased, chickens have to be paid attention to.

Beautiful Sweet the lovely Silkie has been broody for about a week now.  I swear she goes broody if you look at her crosseyed.  Still, that's a good thing right now.  As most of you have read, I put Sushi's (the Yokohama/Phoenix) eggs under Beautiful Sweet.  I still have to wait about a week to candle them and find out if they're viable, so I'm on pins and needles.  Lovely Sushi gave me one more egg today (in the nest box even!) so I put that one under Beautiful Sweet with the others too. 

Remember I said that Sushi laid really small eggs?  Here's something to give you an idea of HOW small.

Maybe it's just my monitor, but it looks "fatter" in this pic. 

Her eggs are so tiny and delicate, and such a lovely shade of cream. 

And here's a size comparison--Vicky the Rhode Island Red's egg on the left, Sushi's egg on the right.

So far, she's been giving me one a day.  I didn't think that either Phoenixes or Yokohamas were supposed to be good layers, but she's been doing an awesome job!  Thanks to Candace, I'll be adding another Phoenix to that coop, and I can't wait to see what comes of that!  (Her name will be Yakisoba--Yaki for short, LOL)

Side note:  Maki the Magnificent is the most awesome roo I've met.  He takes such good care of Sushi.  If he's not overly friendly, he's not mean either.  I can't wait to see what he gives me in the way of babies!

And here's Beautiful Sweet, the proud "mama."  Heck, I'm pretty proud of her too.  She went broody in the main coop, then I moved her and for a little bit, it looked like she wasn't going to sit the eggs I put in the crate for her.  I had to keep placing her back on the nest, but once she figured out that there were eggs in there, she started setting them like a pro.

Not only did she sit those eggs, she accepted another one this afternoon with no fluttering or pecking.  Even after my son decided to "help" by gathering eggs from underneath her, she took them back, all in stride.  Needless to say, Arthur and I had a long talk about leaving her alone with the eggs so she could hatch them.  I just hope he remembers so I don't have to padlock the broody cage.  I'd probably lose the key.

The other adventure today was calling around to reserve my Easter Eggers (hopefully for close to the week of the 12th).  I called Tractor Supply (my farm store of choice) in Mac and they didn't have any.  I called Orscheln in Mac and they were sold out, and wouldn't get more till mid April.  Folks, I REALLY don't want to brood THREE batches within two months.  I'm good, I'm dang good, but I'm not THAT good.  So finally, I found out that the Orscheln in Newton would have a shipment ON THE WEEK THAT I WANTED THEM!!!  WOOHOO!!!!  At first it felt like pulling teeth, but finally got some joy.  They have my name, they have my numbers, and they'll hold some for me.  Now I'm wrecking my eyes trying to study and remember how to sex chicks by down color--after all, the last Easter Egger I got turned out to be a rooster.  I DO NOT need any more roosters.

I'll also get the meat birds.  Probably Cornish X to start with, and my new friend Russell has been kind enough to agree to show me how to process in exchange for a few birds.  I figure that's more than fair.  If that goes well enough, I'll probably get 25-50 more.  After all, I think I might have a line on another chicken tractor for sale, as well as a homemade plucker I can borrow.  AWESOME.

Keep your fingers crossed for me, folks.  I have the suspicion that the eggs from Sushi aren't fertile, but I've been wrong before.  And hey, Beautiful Sweet is one of the happiest hens you've ever seen right now.  At least for today, our farm is a peaceable kingdom. 

What a WHEEE-kend!

Yikes, folks.  Remember how I said I was busier than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs?  I didn't know the half of it.  This weekend has been a seemingly endless roller coaster ride of activity, and thank goodness most of it was positive.

The Celtic Celebration came off better than any of us expected it to, I think.  I got assigned to take tickets and direct people to their reserved tables.  Easy, right?  Um, NO.  Some of the tickets had table numbers written on them, some didn't.  I'm still new enough to town that I don't know most of these folks (and can't remember the names of the ones I HAVE met!).  I made quite a bottleneck trying to figure out who went where.  Oh well, at least nobody seemed angry, which is a plus!  Here are some pics for you to enjoy:

I'm pretty sure both of these groups (the pipers and the dancers) are from Wichita.  I'll get names and post tomorrow--they're worth looking up!

This group is called Knocknasheega.  They were awesome enough to give me a free T-shirt since my tattoo is so close to their logo.  They're very talented and friendly folks as well.  I'll be happy to give you their contact info!

So, after a long night, I came home and crashed.  This morning dawned bright, sunny, and warm:  always a plus.  I did chores, then went in to help a bit with some of the last cleanup.  I came home with about 10 lbs of cooked cabbage and 11 bottles of Guinness.  Talk about awesome!  While I was there, I got a text from Barb asking if I could come play with her new toy this afternoon . . .and she said to bring ear protection, so I had a pretty good idea of what it was, LOL.

Well, I got home.  Scott was building my brooder box for my new chicks!!  (He's got to be just about the most awesome guy in the world, you know.)  We got Maki and Sushi (the Yokohama/Phoenix chookies) moved out to their new coop, and wonder of wonders, Sushi had laid 2 eggs for me in the cage.  Ever the optimist, I decided to put them under Beautiful Sweet the Broody Silkie.  These eggs are gorgeous, folks.  Sushi is bigger than Beautiful Sweet, but she laid 2 tiny, perfect, light cream eggs.  I put them under Beautiful Sweet in the coop, and decided to move her to a broody cage tonight.  When Maki and Sushi got used to their new coop, they both made LOTS of happy noises and had a great time scratching through the leaves and straw that I'd put out as bedding.  AAAH, happy chickens.

So then we went over to Barb and Ralph's.  Sure enough, Ralph had bought Barb a nifty Ruger .22 rifle and gotten the extended magazine.  Who knew that a .22 could look (at least at first glance) like an AK 47?  NIFTY.  Well, as it turns out, Scott got me a new toy too, and at a heck of a deal. 

Smith and Wesson model 422.  A nice, accurate, lightweight .22 pistol that fits my hand. 

And you've gotta love those feathers on the case!

Plus my wonderful hubby made dinner while I was getting Beautiful Sweet situated in the brood cage.  All in all, it's been a pretty dang terrific day.  I hope all of you had a day as great as mine!