Why So Silent? Zoom Zoom Zoom! (Spring/Summer Garden Report)

Boy Howdy, it’s been a bountifully blessed year here on the farm.  In only a few days, it will be a year exactly since we arrived, but I was actually speaking about our awesome spring and summer garden.  I’ve been so busy processing our bounty that I haven’t had the ample time to really share my continually growing experience with you.

Since my last post, I’ve processed so many veggies so many ways, that I’m at a panting crawl.  Well, that and the heat…Gardening in August in Texas is a cruel existence, lemme tell ya!  But with our tomatoes, okra, melons and peppers still poppin’, we do what we have to do…well, sometimes.  Thankfully, we have pigs to help when we can’t drag ourselves outside, or process veggies in time.  You really have a 1-2 day window to properly process most veggies.  And while it’s best to clean and process immediately after picking, early in the morning, with one to two hands working, sometimes, it’s just not possible.

We began by pickling cucumbers…dill, kosher, spicy, sweet, relish…you name it, we did it!  Then the squash and zucchinis began coming in, and we canned, froze or pickled them through out the season.  We canned whole tomatoes, tomato paste, tomato sauce, condensed tomato soup, pasta sauce, stewed tomatoes, “rotel” style tomatoes, pickled cherry tomatoes (not perfected, they bust), salsa, tomato juice cocktail and tomato soup base, and we froze roasted tomatoes with our onions and garlic.  We canned and also froze packs of our purple hulls which also had some creamed peas and blackeyed peas mixed in because the co-op purple hull peas were um…more like a mix!  But hey, we have PLENTY of each type of seed, and we will sort them out so that we have rows of each type to can individually next time.

We made spiced peaches and peach salsa.  We canned a few pints of figs.  We pickled, candied, and/or dried our massive variety of peppers.  Are you ready?  Here I go:  Gypsy, Red Bell, Yellow Bell, Green Bell, Big Bertha Bell, Cayenne, Habanero, Jalapeno, Hatch, Cherry, I have a feeling I’m missing one.  Oh and okra, pickled or cut and breaded/frozen for frying.

What we don’t eat, we process and either store or give to our extended family.  This year, underground water lines made all the difference.   And this fall, we will see what life is like under the high tunnel.  Oh goodness, I forgot our canned corn, and frozen cobs.  The rain was awesome this year, and we had many pollinators buzzing around doing their work all day, every day.  We’ve even begun processing our butternut squash!  We are awaiting our melons and cantaloupe while we prep the ground for our fall/winter garden.  We’re a little late getting a few things in the ground…my hamster wheel is malfunctioning!

The sawdust bedding really made the no-splash effect nice, so that cleaning veggies was a breeze.  Our melons and cantelopes are steadily growing on the arbor, and our chicken coop is just growing into a mega-chicken complex.  If they had stuck to the original plans, it would’ve been done, but it keeps growing and growing and growing and….well, you get the picture.

Speaking of pictures, I thought I’d share a couple of my favorite pictures of my canning adventures with you.  So sit back, scroll down, and enjoy. 

Shiny happy Yum-Yum

dill-pickled cherry tomatoes…not a hit. But pretty!

A coveted jar of FIGS! Mmmmmm! My life-long favorite.

can sexy apply to peppers?

Tangy Italian Tomato Salad

Dill relish in the making

My version of ratatouille, before being baked.

more of our peppers…aha! Banana peppers, I knew I was missing something!

Bisquick Zucchini Bread, um…yum!

Stuffed Zucchini…you can stuff those puppies with all kinds of goodies!!

We Thank God for This Good Season!  And I thank you for stopping by!

Until Next Time,
Vaya con Dios!

 

I Saved a Sea Turtle’s Life

This past Monday morning, as I was combing the beach for treasures one last time before heading home, I thought I spotted something worth investigating further, in the deep piles of Sargasso seaweed. It was only a shoe with barnacles on it. Unfortunately, there were many such shoes up and down Surfside Beach this weekend, but I’ll get to that later.

As I began wandering back to the sand, I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, something white…did it just move?

buried and exhausted

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Is that a turtle? Oh my gosh, it’s alive. I screamed over the winds, for my mother, who was picking up trash and treasure along the dunes. “Mom, hurry up, come here, I’ve found a turtle!!”

She arrived and with her poking stick, I carefully removed the seaweed to expose it’s white shiny belly. I just could not believe this surreal moment was actually upon us!

Poor lil’ fella

I then convinced my Mama that we should at least flip him over, so he wouldn’t feel the need to struggle any further, and then I stayed with the turtle while she ran back to the hotel and retrieved her cell phone and alert the hotel of the situation. They assisted her in contacting the right people, who would arrive two hours later to rescue the turtle.

The turtle probably rode in with the tide and then got caught in the massive amount of seaweed that had amassed since the last dozing took place last Tuesday or Wednesday. This is according to the kind Surfside Beach City worker who was cleaning trash along the beach. While Mama was about her business, I noticed two city workers down the beach opposite the hotel. I hollered at them and they continued to work their way towards me. When the younger of the two got within hearing range, he immediately came over and then called the city. This was big stuff.

Little did I know at the time, this little turtle was an endangered Green Sea Turtle. On record, the only other sea turtle found on that beach had already died by the time it washed up, tangled in fishing net. Lucky for this little fellow, he did not face the same fate.

Free!!

Green Sea Turtles prefer warm, tropical waters. They can live to be 80 plus years old and will grow up to 700 pounds. That last fact blew my mind. My marine biologist friend also informed me that sea turtles main diet source is jelly fish, and because plastic is clear like the jelly fish are, turtles will bite into plastic, which carry toxins that will shorten their lifespan and can even kill them. Out of all the turtle autopsies he performed during his university days, he said he never saw one turtle stomach without plastic inside. That’s very sad.

I am elated that I have assisted that sweet, beautiful turtle, and that it will grow very big and have a very long life. It was taken to the National Marine Fisheries Services headquarters where they will thoroughly examine the healthy looking turtle, that was probably dehydrated, and eventually it will be released back into the waters.

The amount of trash my mother and I saw on the beach this weekend, weighed heavy on my heart. So I wrote the following. I hope you consider sharing this with your family and friends, so we can all remember to take better care of our planet. We only have this one.

I want to say something about my beach experience that I would like you all to seriously consider passing on.

The first evening that Mom and I spent on the beach, we were saddened by all the trash left behind by inconsiderate humans. I suggested that we spend one of our walks picking up trash along the way, just to make a dent and she agreed, saying that she’s done that many times in the past. (I get it from my Mama, you see.)

Everyday, we combed the beach for treasure. We found many sea beans, sea lily pods, a few sad shells (lol, Texas beachers will totally understand this), drift wood, remaining wreckage from Ike (YES, it’s still floating around…the beach has shrunk for good, and erosion continues daily.), assorted floats the size of a coconut, and yes, Sunday morning, I found A COCONUT, LOL! But I also found all the buckets and tools needed to build that sand castle you saw, as well as SO MUCH TRASH IT COULD FILL 20 50-gallon drums! And if you noticed in my pictures, there were at least 10 50-gallon drum-trashcans out for public use.

see the blue trashcans? Apparently many people don’t!

There were barely 50 people out there on the busiest day.

Mother’s Day evening, we took a long walk on the beach. We wanted to get to the two remaining houses that now stand in the water. There were actually two more roads and another row of houses all along that beach, but Ike tore them up and only two lone houses remain. It’s more than haunting. No stairs, busted windows, but standing as a reminder to all who grew up there, of what used to be.

As we walked along, the sun began to set. We saw a blanket here, a pair of shoes there and I mused aloud, “Surely, they will be back for those.” As we continued towards the house in the water, our eyes were mostly set on the waves and the frighteningly thick band of seaweed that was just a slight nuisance our first night there. But as we began to walk back, we began to notice all the things people left behind.

SO MUCH TRASH…but they also left behind so much treasure. I just didn’t understand. We came to a table and our motherly instinct kicked into high gear. At first, we muttered things like, “Have they no shame?” and “What the hell is wrong with people?” (that was me, not mom, lol) But there was absolutely no way we could walk any further. We kicked into high gear-Mom style and began our mission.

We picked up enough trash to fill two of those trash cans to the top. Water bottles, partially drank and empty. A charcoal bag (which came in handy for collecting the obscene amount of trash). Two grocery bags, tons of water bottles, chip bags, both full and empty, a water gun, a fishing hat, 2 kites (broken/discarded), a perfectly good black towel, and more. So disappointed with humanity. If we don’t take care of our planet, no one will. It is truly up to each of us to clean up after ourselves, especially in nature, and in parks. Littering is a crime, and it is bad news for the animals…please be considerate of our planet, our animals, and our fellow man.

I built this entire castle using disgarded buckets. shovels, a mold and a rake. Do you see the toothbrush? Who brushes their teeth on the beach?

I loved the program our old church offered children. It was called LEAVE NO TRACE. It can’t get any clearer. Leave the animals alone (unless they are hurt and need help, or they are to be your food.), do not damage their habitat (trees, grasses, waters {stop throwing trash in the water!!!}), and if you alter anything while on your visit, fix it, and clean up after yourself, as if you were never there.

Future generations (YOUR CHILDREN/GRANDCHILDREN and so on), will appreciate the consideration.

I also wrote this in memory of my experience and insight from this weekend:

My deepest thought while at the beach… dare to go there…lol

As I sat before the waves, I pondered the peace it brings, while yet there is no peace to be found within the churning waves and sand, ever ebbing and flowing, in a rushed fashion. And yet beyond the madness of the roaring waves, in the cool waters, there is peace to be found. The circle of life continues it’s beautiful spiral.

Still, their lives are threatened. By us…by the environment…by the changes below the surface even…there is no true peace there either.

Mother’s Day church service…just me, the pelicans and God!

And if I dared to take my eyes from the horizon, from the raging Gulf tides, and turned to my left or my right, I would find my own peace rattled by a piece of trash, or possibly a nearby human’s animalistic behavior. There is no peace to be found on the lower plain.

Peace can only be found, true, everlasting peace, in one place.

The hands that made the trees and the birds and the fish in the sea. The hands that made you and made me. Those hands that were nailed to the tree, where He was bruised, and bled and suffered for you and me. Those hands are the only way you can truly attain everlasting peace. That peace is a gift through the Holy Spirit and acts as an anchor for your soul in times of great grief and despair.

Just as the animals above and below the surface fight for survival on a daily basis, our own life struggles are many, they just appear less savage on the surface. Well, in some cases anyways. Sometimes, we face horrific experiences, but even through these, His peace is there at your disposal. Will you pick it up and claim it as your own, or will you let it fly away in the wind?

The depth of this thought continued. Just as we look on towards the aquamarine horizon and the wind almost forces the smile to break forth from our hearts to our lips, and forces our eyes open wider to ALL OF HIS GLORIOUS SPLENDOR, being healed instantly by the chaotic, erratic, completely unpredictable, hypnotic dance of the waves, God looks down on us, in the very midst of our own chaotic lives, as we dance to the beat of our drum or His…and He Smiles.

He knows the end of our crazy tale of heartbreak and surrender. He holds the key in His hand. Reach out and take the keys of the kingdom. His Peace is the key that unlocks a steady beat. His Joy is the key that adds grace to your feet. His Love gives you wings when you are broken with in. And His blood is the gift that will wash away your sin.

Freedom is found WITHIN.

May you be blessed this day and put into practice the reception of communion.

Here is a story reporting the rescue:

Until next time, this is the Crazy Chicken Lady signing OFF!

SELFIE!!!!

Babes in Bluebonnets

Just a quick post to share a few shots I took today while playing with the bunnies and chicks. I hope they are a feast for your eyes.

Th-th-th-th-th-th-that’s all folks!

A Cuppa Truth

A Cuppa Truth.

Wrote this today on my other blog, but I know a few folks who read this blog would appreciate this cuppa truth today! To read it, just click on the picture or orange link “A Cuppa Truth” above.

MUCH LOVE, Via The Crazy Chicken Lady

via THE WORLD AS I SEE IT.

Fast Times At Farmville High

There’s a rapid pace to farm life that seems to pick up speed during the transition from winter to spring.  Preparations and planting of new garden rows as well as maintenance of winter rows begin.  Taking advantage of the warmer days by cleaning cages and built-up coop floors.  Between a few bugs, plain lethargy, and extreme busyness, I’ve neglected my blogs.

Promises of Spring

Since I last shared our farm animal news, Daphne and Phoebe have each given birth to seven kits, boosting our total rabbit population to 31.  That includes Daddy Buck, Father of all 24 rabbits, including Chloe’s last (and incidentally, first) litter of 10, as well as Checkers, an old retired buck who, well, is just here.  We have mated Chloe and Buck again, as Chloe’s 10 kits are completely weaned, getting fatter by the day, and about ready for new homes.  We are going to be selling several of our various chicks and pullets, as well as our bunnies, come Good Friday.

Phoebe and babe

Super Mom Chloe’s babies are so loving. They greet me with kisses every day ❤

I’m also excited to announce that we will be selling two products my Mama and I have been busy formulating and tweaking, as well, on Good Friday.  If these items are well received at the farmer’s market, you may be able to purchase them online in the near future.  Cross your fingers for us.  As a lady with hard-worked hands, I can say I have reaped the benefits of being the co-creator of our all natural lotion sticks and chap sticks.  I am giddy about our debut!

Our Leonardo, the prize winning Ameraucana-Maran Roo, took 2nd prize at the first ever Chicken Costume Contest, in that particular county, at least.  My Dad likes to say that he couldn’t keep his pants on, because he was pinned in between two lovely brides (hens dressed as brides).  I like to say he had a major wardrobe malfunction.  Either way, I have a much simpler idea if Dad decides to enter another wild and zany chicken contest that requires the chickens to be dressed for success…this year, Leonardo went as a Mexican Cowboy from the Chicken House in La Grange…I’ll post his grand tale soon.  Yes, Dad wrote a nine page handwritten story to go along with his prize roo.  I even monogrammed his boots!!

Leonardo takes a bow at dress rehearsal

Dad in his modified Tweetie-Roo hat, tries to help Leonardo get ready for the contest

Dad won several prizes for his eggs at the La Grange Poultry show, including best in show.  We do have a lovely assortment of eggs, from whites, tans, browns, and greens, our girls pump out a nice stream of vitamin rich jewels for us to enjoy in so many different ways, from boiled to fried, to baked in a cake.  What a joy to be able to enjoy such fruits of our labor!

Every so often, the tree trimmers drop off a load of mulch in our far field.  Three days ago, they dropped off more than just mulch.  Six newborn kittens were found mewing among the mulch, by my youngest son.  My first instinct was not pretty.  I really wanted him to just put them back and forget he ever found them and let nature take it’s course.  But I always get this prick upon my heart when I harbor such thoughts.  I know we are to be stewards of the earth and if my child is going to grow into a loving man, and potentially a husband and father, I could not in good conscience follow through with my initial thought.

We are now bottle feeding the screaming brat-pack, and I intend to find homes for them as soon as they can eat on their own!  There are already three resident cats, two dogs, countless chickens, and quail, a pig and what was it, 31 bunnies?  I think we have enough mouths to feed around here.  Here’s to hoping for a short-lived kitten-stewardship!  I never said I was perfect…or purrrfect for that matter!

we do what we can

More news on the farm is that our pair of Japanese or Sumatran Bantams are apparently a pair of flaming roos… Dad said, “It’s no wonder we could never find out where she was laying her eggs!  Turns out, she’s a he!”  We’ve recently separated another pair of bantams to find out which is the male and which is the female of that pair.  One or both are laying eggs!  Usually, spurs give away the sex of the chicken, even before their feathers fully develop.  But until the spurs develop, it’s anyone’s guess…unless one wants to start counting wing feathers, that is.  We don’t have that kind of time!

Our ducks have become free-rangers along with many of our pullets.  The ducks have their own hut, but they prefer to retire with the rest of our chickens in the main coop.  All three turned out to be daffy hens, so we look to add at least one male duck to the group before we’re done. We’ve added several more bantams and Ameracaunas to the mix, as well as 50 plus new Texas A&M quail.  We’ve probably already got 20 adults, so the additions will allow us to retire some of the older quail to the freezer.  They are quick growers and great egg producers, laying after only 6-8 weeks of age, and are also excellent eating…so I shall soon find out.

checking on the quail peeps

one of these things is not like the others

We finally got around to operating on and removing Mr. M’s Bumblefoot plugs.  It was icky and Mr. M was an amazing patient.  He’s recuperating in a cage out in the sunlight.  This morning, Dad put him back on the ground, and I hope he doesn’t wind up having to fight his way back to the top of the cockerel-hierarchy.  He was king and head-honcho, the position currently shared (?) between Leonardo and Mr. White.  They are both just chicken enough that I don’t think Mr. M will need to put up too much of a fight to regain his position.  We shall see in time.

before the operation, Leonardo attempted to challenge Mr. M through his waiting cage.

Dr. Dad operating on Mr. M while I hold him still in a burlap bag

And until NEXT time, this is the Crazy Chicken Lady, signing OFF!

a friend sent this to me…pretty funny, no?

Vaya con Dios

Progress is a Beautiful Thing

Pretty kohlrabi

Another weekend is history and March is less than five days away! I never fail to question where the time went, but I can see through progress, that time is being spent well, here on the farm. We do piddle slower than some folk, not in too much of a hurry that we can’t enjoy a few minutes here and there just admiring the beauty that surrounds us. After all, it is well known that slow and steady wins the race, and though this human race is a long one, I’m sure the finish line will be sweet to happen upon one day.

Life is precious, in all it’s forms, and when it ends, suddenly, whether at the beginning of life or after much time on earth, there is reason to mourn. On the farm, we’ve experienced some failed incubating, and some peepers just weren’t strong enough to recover from the hard work of breaking free from their shell womb. We’ve lost a few heads of cabbage to a horrid pest that has to be uncovered, before the damage is realized. The same garden pest eliminated a few of our cauliflower heads as well. Alas, death is an avoidable part of life and serves it’s mysterious purposes as well.

Our 10 bunny rabbits are still hoppin’-happy. They are such a fabulous distraction from chores that I have accidentally added about 30 minutes to my daily rounds, just cuddling and giggling with the sweet babies. SuperMama is back in her own cage and getting geared up to be mated again. With Daphne and Ms. Bunny No-Name still expecting…note to self: It doesn’t do any good to mark the calendar if you’re going to mark it wrong!

SuperMama’s SuperStar

LillyBelle and a sampling of our first blooms

We’re hoping for plenty of chicks and bunnies to sell at the local Farmer’s Market for Easter. If all of my equipment comes in, I will also be selling a very special product that my Mom and I have been working on and honing. I’m still keeping this a secret, until I test a few markets, but personally, I have never had better! Ooooh, the mystery!!

I mulched and watered our fruit trees and roses and all our greenhouse greenery, and anticipate pulling them all out very soon! We need room to start our tomatoes and peppers! Dad and the boys did more work in the garden, preparing the ground for corn and squash, tomatoes, melons and much more. Even though this weekend was best for weeding and pruning, they planted a long row of purple hull peas and I planted mesclun, spinach, and romaine lettuce. We weeded around the onions, and hilled around the cabbages. I still need to do more hilling of the broccoli and cauliflower. There is always more work to be done, but nothing is more rewarding than reaping the rewards of gardening.

The past week was filled with dishes inspired by our garden and chickens. I made a divine butternut squash casserole, and will post the recipe very soon. Keep your eye out for it. We’ve enjoyed our broccoli and carrots and chickens in a delicious pasta bake, and salads, complete with boiled eggs and fresh lettuces, carrots, broccoli and radishes, also from our garden. And as usual, our chickens, rabbits, pigs, and ducks have reaped many healthy benefits from our greens and scraps, as well.

I see buds on the redbud trees and our flower gardens are beginning to burst with color, ah the signs of spring are always such a welcome sight. As I write, it is rather gray out, and it is definitely cooler than yesterday, where I noted many a drops of sweat falling from my brow, while weeding. The free birds are just singing non-stop, such joyful odes to the return of spring.

My Dad scored several free cedars for posts. These posts will flank the long chicken run. He has taught me that it doesn’t take much to cut costs. All you have to do is be observant and bold. Always be on the look-out for resources, and if they aren’t on the side of the road for trash, then just ask. The worst thing that can happen is that you’ll be told no. Our neighbor cut down many trees, clearing their land, and all Dad and the boys had to do was clean the cedars up and move the logs out.

He has a system going now that started soon after our arrival and my interest in working the garden with him. He has a carpenter that bags saw dust for him to pick up, he has tree trimmers dump mulch in our outer fields to season, and he then trades with the saw dust for other necessities…and/or extra chickens. This is the same man who bartered with the doctor who delivered me. The doctor was paid a nice smoker-grill for his services. That doesn’t happen anymore!

I realize not everyone is as skilled as my dad is in selling his perspective and goals, but I’ve enjoyed reconnecting with him and learning from him, as he pursues lofty dreams and visions of grandeur—farm style. If only everyone were on board, we might actually take flight sooner, rather than later. But there’s that pesky little element, called time, that has a way of changing and re-arranging things, so I’ll just go with the flow and learn what I can in the process.

Dad will pick up anything that he thinks he might one day utilize. I used to scoff at him, especially as a teen, when he’d make me wait in the truck while he jumped in the dumpster after a piece of lumber or scrap metal. But in getting the garden together, last fall, I began to see the method in his madness. He pulled out some rebar from one of his piles to use in mounting the low tunnels. I used to get in trouble for trouncing over the piles of those long metal rods, as a young child. He would warn me of snakes, and of the dangers of getting hurt or sick with tetanus, but mostly, he would get frustrated that I was going to somehow mess up his treasures. Fast forward 30 years, and he finally found the perfect use for a few of them.

He’s the tidiest of hoarders, and has running inventories, just as he had of his fittings and pipes during his plumbing days. I truly hope my boys learn all they can from him. He’s a big reason I moved my family to this farm. I knew he was just what the doctor ordered for my boys. It’s a messy world out there, and it is my hopes that my boys will be fully equipped to not only survive, but thrive, as grown men. So many skills are being lost in the wind. I want more for my boys than what a city could offer them. As a gal who started life in the country, I valued my upbringing, as it has served me well.

I’ve seen some progress in my sons’ growth and maturity, in the five months we’ve been here. A lot of resistance, but I think they’re wearing a little. It’s starting to sink in that the decision I made was made out of love and hope. One day, I believe that they will look back on this time in their life with nothing but gratitude. But until then…pray for us all! Ha!

And on that note, this is the Crazy Chicken Lady, signing OFF!

“You mess with me, you get the chicken!”

Vaya con Dios

Everybunny’s Doing Swell

I took a minor trip, to break away from the animals. No, not the farm animals, my own hatchlings, aged 11-17. The farm animals have nothing on the animals that live beneath my roof. From the smells to the yells, I just had to fly the coop for a few days, if only to regain perspective.

looking into the great unknown

I can’t say that I was gone long enough to get anywhere with perspective, but at least I got to see other members of my family who make me feel sane. I was also blessed to be able to visit with my life long best friend, and meet her precious baby. Yes, it was a fabulous get-a-way, but I have to admit, I missed the animals.

I found myself talking chicken with anyone who would listen. This is obviously an epidemic, this chicken raising scheme. The chickens have a master plan to rule the world, and I am obviously just a pawn in their grand plan. Okay, maybe I give the flocks a little too much credit. But there’s power in numbers. And chickens practice voodoo…I know they do!

Look into my eyes…

While I was away, the bunnies and hatchlings continued to grow. I am amazed what can happen in a few days time, growth wise. The kits are so active now, and will come right to you, as you open their hutch. They have needle-sharp claws, which they use to climb up your sleeve, if you’ll let them. I’m mesmerized by their cuteness. I try not to think about their actual purpose, because it’s such a joy to play with my food.

Huey, Dewey & Louie

SuperMama and her Super Babies!

My husband came home last week with an interesting chicken horror tale.

His father and mother began raising chickens four or five years ago. At last count, they had a small flock of 16. The morning after the big freeze, my father in law went out to their coop to check on his flock. What he found both startled and disturbed him. Right in the middle of the coop, were all 16 chickens, laying dead in a pile.

Later that evening, he went back out, to clean up the sad loss, and the chickens had all neatly been moved to the corner of the coop. Still dead. (For some reason, as Mike told the story, at this point, I half expected the chickens to be alive and well when my father in law went back the second time. Sadly, I was wrong.) As he bagged each chicken, he noted that they did not seem scathed at all. That is until he came to the bottom of the pile, and there was a headless chicken awaiting him.

They live in south Texas, about 45 minutes north of the coast. Even though through research, I found that ringtail cats aren’t generally prevalent in that area, it is what his friend and he surmised to be the predator at large. His friend informed him that ringtail cats kill for sport, not unlike humans, and that the way he described finding the chickens, lined up with the nature of the ringtail.

What a horrible way to learn about a predator. We live about 3 hours north of them, and we definitely have a mess of predators to deal with here. In November, Dad shot a possum that was perched behind our chicken cages. Luckily, he did not get one of our chickens before his surprising end. We have hawks and a bobcat that lives right across the dry creek bed from us. We constantly keep the cages clean and food and water fresh, to deter unwanted pests and predators from sniffing their way to easy pickin’s.

While I was gone, the inevitable happened. Dad whipped out the incubator. But another thing that happened is that further construction took place on the future chicken “megaplex” that the boys are working up for our ever-growing feathered crowd. Too many generations are crowding the one tiny coop we have, which leads to laying boxes that resemble port-a-potties, and odd roosting situations, and unnecessary fights. Luckily, with our still-thriving winter garden, we are able to supplement with greens and nice scraps, to keep their health up in the more stressful environment. Just like us, they don’t do crowds well for long.

here we go again

So I’ll leave you today with a few pictures of our roosters. With Mr. M hanging in a cage, the other roosters are finding their pecking orders have slid up a notch. So enjoy our farm studs and have a lovely day in the Son.

Chief Rainbow, Precious and widower Mrs. D

I think Mr. White might be racist…here he is with his harem which includes Lavender the white guinea, and Super Girl, the red-headed flying beaut. She’s only with him until her man is released from the infirmary.

Leonerdo and the ever-social Lavender (who believes herself to be a white chicken)

Mr. Kellogg Wellsummer

As you can see, it’s hard to sleep in, around here.

Until next time, this is the Crazy Chicken Lady, signing OFF!

Vaya con Dios

Meet My Fine Feathered Friends

I have been meaning to do a pictorial of our menagerie of chickens and such for about a week now.  Unfortunately, a rotten cold plagued me and my family and I haven’t felt much like sharing anything, this past week.  Luckily, I am on the mend, and aside from two, the rest of my family is much better as well.  HALLELLUJAH!!

So, allow me to share a few of my favorite chickens, as well as a first look at Supermom’s 10 kits, and a sample of our daily egg collection as of late.  There might even be a surprise or two sandwiched in between all the cluckers.

First is Mickey, our young, handsome Black Polish Bantam Rooster.  He’s a real looker and seems to know it, but he’s not friendly with others, which is why he has a bachelor’s pad all to himself.

Mickey’s named after my new brother-in-law

Next is SilkiePoo.  Again, exotic and lovely to admire, but this Silkie is a bit spastic at the moment.  She/he/it is also in her/his/it’s own cage.  I tried to pair SilkiePoo with Mickey, but Mickey is just too aggressive.  So, until she/he/it is old enough, and/or the run is finally finished, she will be a bachelor/ette/whatever!

Kind of wicked lookin’, really

Then there’s Granny, who isn’t as old as her name would suggest, but doesn’t she look like Granny to you?  She’s so sweet like a Granny too, this White Crested Polish hen.  She is bunked up with Daffy-Doo, another White Crested Polish hen.  However, Daffy’s crest is more like Mickey’s, spikey and jagged.

Granny

SamKitty just explained that he would really like to be right in the middle of these beautiful chickens, because he admires them greatly.  He also admires himself greatly and believes he’s too sexy for his shirt.  So he wanted me to share this picture of him, shirtless, of course, because he always models shirtless…because he is so hot…his words, not mine.

don’t hate me because I’m beautiful

My Dad is really getting nervous about SamKitty and his attraction to pretty chickens.  So he will probably not appreciate the humor of sticking this troubled, vain man-kitty in the middle of his chickens…or will he?

 

I’ve introduced Mr. M to you already.  He really is the finest specimen of Blue Copper Maran to be seen.  He was however, disqualified, for being mis-labeled a Blue Maran, when he was the only Blue Copper Maran in the building and was sure to win the grand champion prize.  Bygones.

I’ve also mention my fear of this dominant roo, as he truly gives me the strangest chills when he is around and has charged me on several occasions.  He actually got my youngest son in the lip, the other day.  So not cool!

He is suffering from double Bumblefoot at the moment and has been caged for the time being.  Dad will be operating on him real soon.  It’s a simple enough procedure for a man like my pop!  Mr. M will be good to strut again in no time.

It’s a catch 22 really, because I rather enjoy him caged, as do many of our other free-range roos.

Anyhow, here is Mr. M with two of our four guineas.  They have no names…they live to annoy us all.  But they are a beautiful annoyance and one day I will enjoy creating something with their beautiful feathers.  Until then, they serve as extra eyes on the farm, alerting us to anything out of the norm…and squeak, squawk, and honking all other hours of the day for no particular reason except to hear their own voice.

Some folks might say that about me and my writing!  Haha!

Supergirl, the high-flying hen, totally photo-bombed this pic

 

These guys just have one thing to say:  “We are the Sultans with Wings”(think Dire Straits)…that’s all…autographs are worthless, as no one can read the henscratch, but you’re welcome to try.

 That’s Daffy-Doo up on the feeder

 

Here’s a group of our free rangers going mad for greens, which were just delivered to their coop.  The second-step brooder box is above, with feeders for the layers and for all, hanging below.  In the spring, we will clean the coop real good, raking a lot of the mashed down, soiled hay into the compost and spraying down the roofs of the brooder box and laying boxes.  During the winter, we let the hay and shavings and compost-y materials such as discarded green scraps and chicken poo accumulate, as it adds needed warmth to the coop.  We also have the coop’s open chicken wired areas tarped securely to help with the heat and the brooder box has a heat lamp as well.

They go cuckoo for greens

Right now, the ducks are in a large cage in the corner of the coop.  They are so nasty!  They destroyed two cardboard brooders in a matter of days, which is why they wound up in the coop.  Their food is suspended and their water is a dog bowl dish, since they wanted to swim in their waterer and spilled it everywhere anyways!!  We have to give them a fresh hay bed, daily, and put them outside in a larger, bottomless pin during the day, due to their mess-factors.  But even the chicks in the brooder box need fresh paper and shavings every 2-3 days to maintain sanitary, healthy conditions.  It’s about stewardship.

Our baby khakis, with a crested Huey, and then Dewey, and Louie

Aside from our quail, which a whole blog post was recently dedicated to, and our caged bantams, the majority of our laying hens are happy free-rangers.  They are supplemented with laying pellets, fresh garden greens, as well as some dinner scraps, and we will from time to time, put a little apple cider vinegar in their water.  Our eggs have won several ribbons at the few shows my dad has shown them at.  That is why I boast of them being award winning eggs.  Here is Sunday’s collection, although a few more were collected later in the evening.

Since their release, I hadn’t laid eyes on our pair of Sumatra Bantams, with the exception of Saturday evening.  They are a beautiful ornamental Japanese breed, given to us late last year.  They have made a home in the woods behind the caged area, and only pop up when they think no one is looking.  Dad told me that they are sleeping in the trees and do not intermingle with any of the others.  I miss them.  They are beautiful.  Now that Mr. M is caged, they have been spotted closer to the flocks, but they still kept a healthy distance and disappear when they realized humans were near.  This is the first time chickens didn’t automatically get with the program and enter the coop with all the others in the evening.  It’s rather amazing, really, how quickly new groundlings find their safe havens.  Proof those clucks are more than clucks!!

As this pair is ever elusive, now free, and I did not get a picture of them, while caged, you will just have to google them.

 

One of the many things dad has entrusted in me, is pairing mates.  I love this.  I was actually pretty good at this back in the day and got 4 human couples together based on my feelers, and I’m proud to report that all four couples are still together to this day.

Here’s a young couple, I recently paired, sharing their dinner.   Isn’t that lovely?!  When you allow the little things to give you joy, inevitably, they will.

True love in bloom

A major predator on the land, that was caught red-handed today, carrying Lavender, our Pearl Guinea in his mouth, is Skaar.  BUSTED, BUDDY!  You can only imagine how I hate this.  This is why I am crossing my fingers for the soon return of a healthy husband and a week of warm, sunny days, so they can get the well-house/coop/run combo up and running.  But you know how things go; so many things pop up that demand attention and priorities shift.  It is the way of the day, I tell ya!~!  GEESH!

Here’s the naughty doggy, just a waggin’ his tail and grinnin’ next to his humble abode.  This is where he gets to hang out during the days now, chained to the tree.  Hopefully the chickens will keep their distance, because the boy has the thirst for chicken blood.  SUCH A BUMMER!!  The good news is Lavender, who believes she is a chicken, survived the ordeal.  Bad Bad Puppy!!!

will he ever learn??

These two are part of our quartet of fellows on death row.  They had the unfortunate misfortune of being born male, and we tend to eat males around here, since our ladies know how to work it in the egg laying factory.  It’s a shame such handsome fellas have to meet such a fateful demise, but alas, it is their purpose, after all.  Before you ask, yes, roosters tend to be tougher.  They need to be boiled longer and make great soups, as well as chicken and dumplings.  We fatten them up before the culling.  They really don’t know what’s happening until it’s too late.

our two-headed roo…or not

My baby brought our favorite little girl into the house and put it in the tub.  I’m really not sure why, as I’ve learned not to question the Littlest Chicken Whisperer.  Like all boys, he’s prone to lie anyhow, so why bother!  Mamas has begun laying.  I was so excited, you would’ve thought I just became a grandmother.  Chickens have an odd effect on people, I tell ya!

cutest and sweetest lil’ girl in the whole world

 

And then there is Chaca, our garden hog.  My crazy dad and crazy son captured Chaca and they are letting her root around on our spring/summer garden plot to get it all nice, aeriated and fertilized.  Chaca is just certain that one day she will escape her fate…but she’s destined for a luau.

The guys also killed and cleaned two wild hogs for the freezer.  It’s been a good hunting season with 4 deer and 3 hogs.  Our freezers are blessed beyond measure, our God is a Master of Provisions.  I give Him all praise for what has become of our lives, since our move to the farm.  He has taken us to a new level and is growing us, just like we’re growing the veggies and animals.  Life is a beautiful thing, isn’t it?

I come from a long line of crazy

 

Let’s not forget the bunnies!  Here’s SuperMama’s babes as well as the proud pop, Buck.

you can’t see them all, but believe me, there are ten burrowed in there

Such a handsome bloke

 

 

Mr. Dominique met an early demise upon release.  I’m not sure if he was chased or trying to escape, all I know for sure is that my Lil’ Chicken Whisperer came back reporting that he’d found Mr. D’s body in the creek bed.  It’s a pitty, though I admittedly blamed him for the untimely culling of (un)Lucky.  His wife is still with us and has been claimed by Mr. Wellsummer.  What I’m not sure of, is how Mrs. Wellsummer feels about that.  But she seems happy enough to be a free-ranger now, so I’m not too concerned.

Mr. D, before his untimely demise, in an action shot

There are so many other chicks, pullets and older layers that I’ve not snapped a picture of.  These are a few of the ones that have a particular claim to some acreage in my heart.  Chickens know voodoo.  I’m just sure of it.  They have me under their spell.  I think about them all the time.  I talk about them and write about them and sing about them, even.  Working with them brings me an immense joy that I can’t describe except to say it surely comes from my Lord Jesus Christ, son of the God of Abraham; my stay and my stead.

He makes everything magical…just wish I could explain it in a way to save the world.  His majesty is beyond me, and at the same time, within and all around me!  Oh me oh my, my God is Good.

And on that note, this is the Crazy Chicken Lady, signing OFF!

VAYA CON DIOS

A Sure-fire Way To Confuse the Children

Once upon a time, in America, the government fully supported and encouraged self-sufficiency and sustainability through Victory Gardens.

I borrowed this great find through a friend. Click on the picture link to visit his new facebook page, Texas Garden Paths.

Quail Isn’t That Special

Here on the farm, we raise various poultry.  We have our award winning chickens and roosters and their award winning eggs. We also have guinneas, quail, and our newest feathered friends, three baby ducks.  Each of these birds have different needs and different problems.  The guinneas pretty much care for themselves, and honk their annoying alarms on and off through out the day, while perching in trees, on the roofs, and occasionally bullying the chickens.  They are a rather rogue gang of noisy birds that I really don’t have too much to do with.

pretty pullets

Our quail, however, are another story.  Quail are tiny and delicate and flighty.  They operate under a cult-like mentality, and rarely, will you be able to differentiate between the hens and roosters, unless you catch them in action, as they look nearly identical, male and female.  Some more avid, hands-on quail folk will tell you to squeeze their bottom, and if foam comes out, that means the quail is a girl.  I’ll pass on that.

A few days back, my Dad noticed that one of our quail hens was egg-bound.  In other words, her egg became stuck inside her on it’s way out.  This does not bode well for birds, being egg-bound, but at the time, I didn’t know that.   I did as instructed; we sat the lady in some warm water, and we could see that the worst possible outcome in such situations had taken place.  The egg had broken inside her.  The shell was most likely causing internal damage.

The bitty darling was not happy in the water and after cleaning her, helping to dry her, and moving her back to the infirmary cage, I knew things weren’t looking good.  She was stiffening.  She laid on her side with her legs unusually stretched out…she was dying.  We put her in a small animal carrier and brought her into the house to keep an eye on her over night, but when my Dad came over for a visit, he said she was not going to make it.

Farm life is full of both life and death.  Truly, there is no where else on earth that continually offers you all the aspects of life than the farm…besides a hospital.

Walking into the caged area often brings surprises, both good and bad.  From new layers, and new chicks to baby rabbits who didn’t make it through their first night, and bloodied roosters who apparently looked at their neighbors the wrong way. Some days bring about sorrow, as one fine blogger pointed out, the other day, when she lost a kit of baby rabbits.

She wisely shared Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 here.  Farming will help you grow a thick skin, but God’s Word will help you gently cope with the facts of life.

From the incubation stage forward, you deal with loss.  As you candle eggs to see which were truly fertile, you cannot help but mourn what might have been, with the unfertilized eggs.  No longer edible, these eggs are disposed of and forgotten.  It was the day before Christmas when our first quail hatched from the incubator.  Quail incubate fully within 16-24 days, depending on the breed.  Ours usually hatch around day 17.  They are a variation of Chinese painted quail and they lay the most precious mottled brown and khaki egg.

baby quail are itty bitty cuties!!

Our first quail hatchling did not survive the night.  It’s enough to make you question your methods.  But we know, from practice, that we did everything according to book.We dunked it’s little head so that it discovered water and consumption, we kept it’s box at a cozy 100 degrees Fahrenheit.  Some babies just weren’t meant to flourish.  Thus is life.  Like many premature births in nature, nature took it’s course.  Out of a dozen quail eggs in the beginning of incubation, 7 were born and 5 survived.

We feed our quail specified quail feed.  You can get this at your local feed store. It is of the utmost importance with all caged fowl, to keep their water and food containers clean and fresh.  This wards off disease and illness.  During the cold seasons, these little delicate birds require extra warmth.  With the use of heat lamps, you can keep your quail happy and cozy.

 

Quail eggs are such a rewarding, precious protein, and pairs will lay you an egg a day, if you offer them a comfortable environment.  I use 4-5 quail eggs per standard egg in recipes.  They are also fun to boil and peel, just remember to let them age in your fridge or in your cool cupboard for at least a week to allow air between the shell and membrane.  This will help with peeling all boiled farm-fresh eggs.  The tiny boiled quail eggs are fabulous uncut, in potato salad, but it’s hard not just to pop a few freshly peeled delicacies right in your mouth.  YUMMO!

Three week old quail note the temperature drop as I prepare their water

After a few weeks in the hatchery box, with a warm lamp and a small amount of ventilation, these little peeps are ready to move to the caged area.  We have a pretty awesome assortment of chickens and roosters to keep our quail company.  Within only a month we have received eggs from the hatchery graduates.  They are of course unfertile, but even that changes quickly.  Yes, quail roosters grow into their roles of dominance and seeding rather quickly, and if you have the time to watch for such action, you can then band the leg of your hens and roosters, respectively.

I have yet to enjoy a bacon-wrapped quail or any other prepared quail, but my parents say they are divine eating.  We are definitely building our quail up for such a time.  But in the meantime, I truly enjoy watching them hop around in their spastic manner, attempting the occasional escape, only to find a waffle wall of wire in their way.  I love the rooster’s shrill-full crow.  It never fails to take me by surprise and give me a rush of goose flesh.

The latest surprise on the farm came in finding our first d’Uccle egg yesterday. D’Uccles are an exotic breed of bantam quail, and are originals. So I’m curious to see if we have another egg waiting today. I just know my dad is going to want to whip out the incubator when he sees what has been collected while he was gone. So I better be off! The farm work calls!

Mamacita and Papacito, the d’Uccles

Until next time, this is the Chicken Lady, signing OFF!

Vaya con Dios!