The Universe had something to say...

I work in a Maximum Security prison for youth.  So that means that each day when I get to work, I have to pass through a heavy gate in the 30-ft. high chainlink fence topped with a roll of razor wire, The gate only opens with visual identification from the guard booth.  Then I walk 20 feet or so to another heavy gate in another 30-ft. high chainlink fence topped with another roll of razor wire.  And that brings you onto some pretty nice grounds, all sectioned off with chainlink fences and razor wire. But being that we are in the country, we have the requisite fire pond out front, and a lot of resident Canadian geese who have decided to permanently re-locate to the countryside.

After passing through all the security devices, we must all be wanded to make sure we aren't bringing in a saw blade or some such thing (don't laugh...it's happened-up North, in the "grown-up" prison).  It's a pretty awkward few moments as some man you barely know waves a large beeping device up around your boobs and between your legs, so most of us attempt some sort of small talk to make it less weird.

The other day, a colleague tried this:  "How the heck did the geese get in here?  I mean, who let them in???!"

(She was, sadly, referring to the geese who were inside the perimeter, instead of outside on the fire pond as she expected)

So, we all waited a minute to see if she was kidding, and then gently replied, "They flew in."

She looked blank.  I don't think she believed us.

Needless to say, we all laughed hysterically once we were out of earshot, and  several of us spent the entire shift repeating, "How the heck did the geese get in here?" and erupting into peals of laughter.  I confess - I was one of them.

Not exactly mature behavior, but it makes the time go by.  And I didn't regret it a bit.

When I got home, I went down cellar to start a load of laundry, and something very large flew very close by my head.  WTF??!??  I went back and turned on the light, and then I saw it and said, "How the heck did that goose get in here???!??"

Nobody replied.  (of course) And then it struck me.

Point taken, Universe.

So what WAS flying around my cellar?  It was a young female Hooded Merganser duck.  She had fallen down the furnace chimney and out the little door for cleaning ashes.  A few frantic laps around the cellar, and I finally caught up to her.

After removing the great quantity of cobwebs she had cleared up for us, we let her go off the front porch, and she took off like a shot.

Mish mash this and that

It's an apt description of how I manage around here...going from situation to situation and letting my ADHD have full reign...but it's been how I've gotten this far, so we roll with it for now.  Don't question the universe (I'll tell you more about that tomorrow).

Time to let the sheep out to graze for a bit...

We see this:

 Look closely, see the chick riding her back.....

Imagine it saying, "Mama?  Why can't we go outside for a bit?" (They are currently housed in a re-purposed duck pen, the electro-net is just there because I haven't wound it up)...

Decide they need a ramp to safely and efficiently get in and out of the duck/chicken pen....

Gather scrap just lying around waiting to be re-purposed or disposed of.....

Discover I do not have the right length nail to finish the job.....

Go up to the house to look for the nails

Notice the bag garden I started to put together for B......

Stop to put plants in the prepared soil....

Notice how much I REALLY need to paint the porch....(Thankfully for this story I do not have the paint yet)

Go back with the nails and finish the ramp.....

They wasted NO time in putting it to use....(note Mama top right)

Put sheep away.....

Next?

Mother's Day Hooplah

In fitting fashion, the mother hen sitting eggs decided to take her newly-hatched brood out for Mother's Day Brunch, and so I came upon her sitting rather awkwardly in the middle of the Lower Lot.  Closer inspection revealed she was sitting so oddly because 8 little chicks were attempting to hide beneath her, and she was trying valiantly to cover them all.

As soon as I got within reach, she flew into action, attacking me and sending the chicks running in all directions.  With each attack she tried to push me back in one direction, and jostle the chicks towards the cover of the wooded part of the lot.  Not that the wooded part is navigable for humans, which is just what she wanted - rather, it is overgrown with brambles (read PRICKERS) and vines, and fallen trees, and all manner of other crap to make it a painful and tedious place to be hunting chicks.

Nothing like this EVER happens when I have free time to spare, and as usual I was trying to get to work, but not before I FINALLY managed to return Mother Hen and all 8 chicks to the comfort of the Hayport.  Let's hope they stay for a while....

                                                               On the Way to Brunch

                                                          Back in the Hayport (for now...)
Drama aside, we have found hen-hatched and hen-raised chicks to be far superior to mail-order.  Not only is there no need for heat lamps, brooders, (not to mention cleaning all that) space in the house/garage/barn, and frequent need to check for blocked vents (chicks, not buildings) but they are healthier and most importantly, stealthier.  Mother Hen teaches them to hide in the bushes during the day (thus avoiding the hawks) and they all follow her to roost each night.

With 4-H behind us, we no longer need "pure-breed" chickens, so mutts do us just fine!

Have I still got it?

This seems so foreign to me....in the time that I have been gone, even social media has evolved, and blogging is somewhat of a relic....but I want it back.  If only as a confirmation that all I dreamed of has not moved beyond my reach....and also as I way to make contact with others and even as a personal check-in for my recovery....

So while I struggle at the controls, bear with me.  I have to re-acquaint myself with everything...including the new computer.  It may be a bumpy ride....but hasn't it always been?

Speaking of bumpy.... trying to get a photo of this little bugger to practice photo importing and posting was bumpy like the Rockies bumpy...I don't remember kittens being this uncooperative, but it's been almost two decades since I've had a kitten  in the house, so perhaps my memory is a little foggy on this point....

Chicken Anarchy

In 11 years of doing this farming thing (Gawd, has it been THAT long??) we have bought chickens, mail-ordered chickens, traded chickens, incubated chicken eggs, rescued chickens, and even sold a few...but we have never actually hatched our own.  Like from scratch....with a hen doing the actual work, and no human involvement.  Until now....

Into the Void, which is an apt description of a farm gone wild with practically no rules, structure, consistency or order (due to a medical disruption of my Former Life on a large scale when my husband almost died from Lyme, a stroke and other nasty complications) this hen decided to drop a chick.

I can honestly say I have NO idea where she brooded this little thing, but she managed to stay hidden for 21 days (not too hard given my almost constant state of harried frenzy and general lack of attention to detail) AND managed to stay away from predators (more impressive given our proximity to several fox dens and the new hazard of ranging coyotes that have crossed our property more than once this summer...) AND managed to totally ignore all the rules that said something like, "Do NOT make more work for the Lady" "Do NOT add more chores to Her list" "Do NOT grow the farm in any way since it's too much already for Her sanity" and so on, and so on...

And yet.....here he/she is.  A Buff Cochin chicklet.  Sex TBD.  No rules.....No. Rules. It's Chicken Anarchy.

New Staff

Let me introduce the biggest addition to the farm....Zeva.

(The nut featured two posts ago...)

The decision to add another mouth/chore/critter to the farm was pretty easy after seeing that face....but really, it was about ticks.

You see, DH's NDE (Near Death Experience) was triggered by a tick bite in May '13.  Left inadequately treated, it led to a stroke, encephalitis and the NDE....amongst other things).  Anyhoo......

Ticks...eaten by Guinea Hens.  Guinea Hens...eaten by foxes.  Foxes...deterred (if not eaten) by large canine.  Canine...available by barter from a neighbor farmer, and, well, I love to barter. Viola!

She is a Maremma. So far....she hasn't eaten anybody (including chickens!) but we've had no losses to predators...so we're ahead of the game!

Seems like a good way to start...

Leave it to Susan (who got it from Carolyn) to come up with the perfect way to cover a lot of ground and keep me busy (er) ....and I pretty much do anything she tells me/suggests/wants ..... so, here goes a month of blog postings...

...and in the spirit of the quotation....we'll see what seeds we can plant!

Jumping back in ....

There was no easy way to dive back in the conversation....other than to just do it.  So.....we are back.  Everyone is alive.  Life is not pretty....but, like Zeva.....I'm looking for a playmate (or 2..)







OK, maybe not that desperate....I draw the line at sniffing butts.

Occupational Therapy

This was one of those things I never quite got the gist of....Bill had it every day while he was in rehab, and even some days when he was in the ICU, and it covered everything from brushing teeth to putting wooden pegs in their holes...but here on the farm, we have our own version:

We had a bumper crop of apples this year, so it's apple cider, applesauce, apple jam, apple bread....you get the idea....

Bill is working his fine motor coordination by feeding the apples into the press while I crank.  You can see how much weight he has lost (almost 60 pounds! but here he has gained back about 15) when you compare to his pic several posts ago...

He was happy to be contributing to the flow of things around here, and his cider was part of tonight's dinner, so this is what WE consider occupational therapy....

What happens when YOU dial 911?

Many of us live where we live SPECIFICALLY to get away from people/noise/traffic/stress (fill in the blank).  But there's nothing like an emergency to make you instantly wish you lived right next door to the fire department/ambulance/emergency room....(you get the idea)...

We live in  Petersburgh, NY.  Pretty much right where New York, Vermont, and Massachusetts come together.  It's a wee little town with somewhere around 5,000 people and not a hell of a lot more.  We live 3 miles from the garage of the Petersburgh Volunteer Ambulance.  We live 14 miles from the garage of the Bennington Rescue Squad.  When the neighbor dialed 9-1-1, it took 18 minutes for the Rescue Squad, and 20 minutes for the Ambulance.  All of which seemed like an ETERNITY as I was huddled there on the lawn, cradling my husband and trying to keep him calm and warm.

If you don't know already, then it's time to figure out for yourself - how long does it take for help to arrive? 

Not only ambulance, but fire and police as well.

Who responds?  State police or locals?  Fire volunteers or municipal firefighters? Do you live near a hydrant, or will they use a pond?  Is your house # clearly displayed? If it is nighttime, do you have adequate lighting?  Do your personal cars block access to your property or house? 

In a former life, I trained social workers who do field work with the mentally ill, and I ran them through these same questions.  I stressed these points over and over, and still was caught off guard when it happened to me.

And here's the really important one:

What do you do while you are waiting?

Seriously.  Do you need a safe place to wait?  Do you have access to a phone?  Do you need to lock up, move cars, secure animals, gather anything? Are there kids that need to be comforted/ occupied/ supervised?

Run a drill, people...run a drill.  It will be the best 15 mental minutes ever used.  Stop for a minute and ask yourself: 

What happens when I dial 9-1-1?

What happened???

If there actually is anybody who was wondering, it's a very long story.  Which I will tell you, but it will take some time.  I'll try not to make the telling as excruciating as the actual living through it...

On August 10th, my husband had a stroke.  In an instant, my whole world as I knew it disappeared.   Everything went frighteningly liquid; no firm ground, no thing to hold on to, no plan, no future, no nothing but the very panicky present moment...

And probably the only reason I can write this post, is that he is finally coming home.  Tomorrow.  After an unbelievable saga, practically everything but pregnancy (or at least it felt like it), mistakes, incompetence, horrible stories (and a few funny ones), and some amazing friends who helped us through it....

On the 77th day since it happened, my sweetheart gets to come home.  The place is a mess; the farm went to pot, the bathroom is not totally finished, but I just don't care.  He's coming home - we'll just start from there.

Where there's one....

.....apparently, there is often two.

RIP x 2!

Just strange...

It was hard to get the camera to focus well on both of them....but the bunny has a new "friend" which seems to find her poop tray an especially good place to hang out.  See the garter snake resting its head on the edge below her?

It's not just a fluke thing....they've been hanging together all summer!

Have-No-Heart

Yeah, yeah.....I know how the trap is SUPPOSED to work, but after 2 devastating years with this critter just wreaking havoc on my veggies and my psyche, he/she HAD to go.

Today we finally said our final "goodbyes" to this PITA.

RIP.

Are you my mother?

Remember that (slightly) annoying children's book where the fledgling runs around asking all kinds of creatures if they are it's mother?

Another chapter of that saga played out in the pasture the other day.  While the boys were out grazing, I noticed they had a tiny, brown shadow that kept pace with them wherever they went.   It hopped along, grazing bugs and seeds, never more than a few feet away...periodically cocking it's head as if to ask, "Are you my mother?"

None of the sheep seemed to have the answer...but it wasn't daunted.

In fact, it hung with the sheep for at least a half an hour and I was beginning to think it couldn't fly.  Of course as soon as the camera showed up, it took off but we got in one good shot...

Anybody know what kind of bird this is?  I don't remember ever seeing it around here before....

Scape escape

It's that time of year, and anyone who grows hardneck garlic knows there's a "hidden" crop beyond the garlic bulb.....scapes.

Right now, the garlic is flowering.  And it's this flower that you pick (looks like a curly-q piggy's tail) and make so many wonderful things with....

My favorite: Garlic Scape Pesto

1/2 lb. chopped garlic scapes (about 25 scapes)
3/4 C grated Parmesan/Romano cheese
1/2 C chopped nuts (pecan, walnut, pistachio, pine nuts)
3/4 C virgin Olive oil
1T lemon juice
salt & pepper to taste

Place chopped scapes in a food processor, pulse until fine.  Add the cheese, nuts, salt, pepper and mix well.  While running, add the lemon juice and olive oil.  Process till nice spread consistency.  Adjust seasoning to taste.  Can be frozen.  (like in the video below!)

For more ideas, check out this link to a college friend who does a culinary thing.....

Mark's Culinary Compass

NOT a farmer...

No....that is not a privacy screen for the tomatoes....and, Yes, I realize row cover is supposed to be laid horizontally on top of the crops....

It is today's proof that I am perhaps NOT the farmer I purport to be....

Because when I was preparing another section of the garden for planting (power tools, blades, gnashing, chopping, yikes!) I found this:

What?!? You can't see it??

Let me pull back the grass a bit and help you...

The "screen" is keeping Mama Bunny relegated to the tomato corner of the garden until Nursery School is over.  Then it's fix the fence, and bunnies beware.....

So, I've just enabled one garden pest to become potentially  6.....I am SO not a farmer.....

Amen

Plan Bee

It's a good idea on any (homestead) farm to always have a back up plan....and the beekeeping saga proves that's usually the case....

We were planning to split the hive that over-wintered, as it appeared strong and a cursory glance inside at the beginning of spring showed an abundance of bees, comb, honey, brood, etc.

But, how to do it?  We researched different ideas and plans, and the first important thing we learned (back in early May) was NOT to do it too early in the year.  The first brood are ones that were likely laid as soon as temperatures allowed.  They hatch to become nursery bees that care for the second wave.  They don't have the experience to do anything else, and will never pick up the skill of going out and foraging for pollen, nectar, etc.

So, we waited.  After only a week or so, we saw a significant increase in the number of bees coming and going, so we concluded that round one of the brood had hatched, and we were clear for splitting.

The plan was as follows:

Get an empty deep hive body with 6 frames of drawn out comb.  Place that on a bottom board, and transfer four frames of brood (with nursery bees attached) to the new hive.  Next, a queen excluder, then the two deep supers of the original hive on top of that, their original queen excluder, their honey super, and the hive cover.  One big stack.

Wait 24 hours.  The nursery bees will stay with the brood.  Any other workers will make their way back up into the original hive.  (Queen will stay out of the new hive!)  After 24 hours, take all parts of the original hive off, and put back in their usual place.  Cover the entrance to the new hive with screen, then give them a newly ordered queen (in her box), and cover this new split with the usual hive cover.

After another 24 hour period, take the screen off and place branches in front of the entrance so the bees think they have moved (their "neighborhood" looks different with the branches at the front door so they navigate by smell back to the new queen).  Check in a week to make sure the queen has gotten out of her box and begun to lay...viola! TWO HIVES.

Well, when we opened the hive to begin, we discovered we had a laying worker, no queen, no brood, and we moved to Plan B.

We saw an abundance of drone cells:

(The larger, bumpy ones)
We saw quite a few queen cells, mostly empty.

And inspection of the central frames showed no queen in site.  The three of us working the hive concluded that the hive had indeed hatched a new queen.  She likely went on her mating flight a week ago.  It was a ridiculous 35 degrees last weekend.  She froze.  Enter the laying worker. (Although the ideas sounds good, she is infertile, so she cannot lay anything but drones.  And who needs a hive full of guys who don't work? )

So, we scraped off the queen cells we saw in case any were still viable, and gave the newly ordered queen to the original hive.  So much for two hives this year....

We go back in a week to make sure she has gotten out of her box, is laying, and we plan to harvest 6 frames of honey from the deep super, replacing them with drawn out comb, and let this hive continue to produce honey in the usual honey supers (they have a very good start on one already).  Hopefully, the $$ we make from honey sales will allow us to purchase more bees next spring to expand the yard or replace this hive, should it succumb to mites....

Let the shearing begin!

FINALLY got around to putting this together on Sunday....now there's nothing but procrastination (and work - that wretched place...) between me and shearing....

I've made this before; plans are from the Jan/Feb 2006 issue of Hobby Farm.  I don't remember the cost the first time, but it lasted at least 5 years of abuse and neglect before disintegrating....this time it cost me less than $8.