Fall Shearing, #2

Little Angel was next.  Mostly because she is anything BUT an Angel, and constantly gets under the electronet fencing by simply absorbing the shock with her fleece...

I hand shear my little flock, mostly because I haven't mastered the electric shears (beyond cutting myself - 5 stitches) and it allows me to sort of "skirt as I go" meaning I can take all the fleece I want, and leave the yucky stuff for clean-up later.  Here, I have taken some nice fleece off the neck and shoulder, and have left the burdock messy right leg for waste.  I will continue on and get most of the rest of the "barrel" (body) and although it won't look like a traditional fleece, once it's washed and cleaned, it's all good...

BTW- I can afford to be picky, since I seem to have an accumulated "backlog" of fleece..which my chickens discovered in the barn and decided one bag made a really nice nest.  Don't tell the hubby...he is still waiting to see yarn from these guys...

I also am in love with my smaller hand shears that I got from the Nasco farm catalog.  I ordered these as a backup to my larger ones, and have stopped using the larger ones altogether.  They list as single bow, dagging and trimming shears with a 3 1/2 inch blade, 10 inch length overall.  They retail for just under $34, and I want another pair!  At the rate I am using these, I will need them, and a sharpener as well...

Here, she has rejoined the others, all munching away on apples.  Hattie, the first to be shorn is in the background.  The grey in Angel's musket fleece really shows through when she is shorn.  The wether to the right is her twin - Alexander.

He's probably next...

But it's not all fun and fleece around here.  We have other projects going on (so it looks like I'm earning my keep...)

I just finished fixing up the front yard a bit where our well head is garishly located near the porch and the driveway.  DH was afraid someone would drive into the well (not sure what type of visitors to the farm he envisioned, but I didn't argue...) so he covered it with a bright orange bucket and plunked a little wishing well wanna be in the front.

It then went on to be one of the settling spots on the property where it just seems fitting to drop off lumber, spare pots, and pails without a home.  Kind of anti-Martha Stewart.  So I changed all that one day while everyone was at work.

With about $50 in lumber and what not (it's awful what split rail fence goes for around here...) I transfigured the dumping ground to a respectable landscaping moment.  And the DH bought in completely once he realized the fencing presented another opportunity for planting flowers along its length.  And still protected the well head against raging drivers.  Or whatever.

And I've earned my dinner for another day...

Fall Shearing, #1

It was a nice Fall day, so I HAD to get some work done outside.   First project up: shearing.  Hattie, my flock matron, went first as she is the best behaved (and had the halter on so I could catch her without too much gymnastics)

Hers is a pretty nice fleece; each year her silver gets lighter, and this year it looks almost white...

She is standing next to Secret, her granddaughter, making the perfect "before and after" shot.  Photos of anything "during" were more challenging, as many of the farm's other inhabitants were on hand to "help"...

The turkeys hovered around, in case anything edible should appear.  They tasted the bits of fleece that were flying about, but settled for pecking the freckles on my legs in case they were bugs.  (Thanks guys.)

BTW - Anybody know how to sex turkeys?  What exactly is one supposed to look for when deciding who goes to the chop shop and who gets to stay home making babies for next year???  I mean if there is some visual difference in plumage or something, please clue me in.   Based on last year's comedy of errors, I need all the help I can get.  (For those of you that don't remember, we apparently ate the hens...)

And the geese...

...kept squeeking and squawking until I sat down and took a break with them.  They seem to want me to sit with them and pick grass for them to eat out of my hand.  It must be some kind of geese ritual, because they eat three or four handfuls, then they settle down and either take a brief siesta, or walk off to continue grazing.  But if I ignore them, they keep up the anxious squeeking...(I have learned this from experience)

And once the word was out we were taking a break...

Max came by to soak up some attention.  Somedays I just want to be a cat...

THAT'S what I get for being lazy...

It's Sunday, and I am desperately trying to cling to a few minutes of blissful inactivity early in the morning...which includes not feeding the cat the very INSTANT my feet hit the kitchen floor...and this is what I get.

The kitty decides to go get breakfast on her own.  She got it in the cellar (God, I hope that's where it came from!)  And she brings it upstairs to show it to me.  Kind of a feline "So, there!"

My usual rodent-catching hero is upstairs, asleep.

I get the bathroom garbage can.   I catch "breakfast" and quickly cover it up with the closest thing on hand.  Any chance of that blissful, lazy moment is gone, because now both kitty and the "breakfast" are sitting there, mocking me.  I can't take "it" outside, because when I remove the cover, I am afraid it will jump up and eat my eyebrows off my face, or run up my leg, or be in reality, a rat.  

I am going upstairs to join my hero, and see if I can subtly entice him into waking up.  For me.  'Cause who wouldn't want to deal with rodents the very first INSTANT their feet hit the floor... (for the one they love?) 
 

Fair News

Summer has unofficially ended; the Schaghticoke Fair has come and gone.  That's our county Fair, and 4-H project year wrap-up.  Madison entered a slew of vegetables from the garden this year and took away 8 blue ribbons out of 10 entries.  (She needs to work on presentation...hear that, Martha?)

And the chickens didn't do too badly, either!  Here she is standing with her Reserve Champion, Blueberry, who is a Splash (Blue) Cochin.  Blueberry didn't want to cooperate for the photo, so she is hiding behind Madison's head.  (She also didn't want to cooperate on salon day, so she won with dirty feet.  Go figure.)

There was showmanship:

And plenty of showing the chickens to the public:

If you are wondering why I am holding the chicken, just take a peek at my right leg - once there's poop, I become the holder and she does the introductions...(sigh)

That's Spring, one of my favorites.  She is a Rhode Island Red from two years before, when she was part of the day-old baby chick display that the kids get to divvy up once the Fair is over.  This year our family set up the entire chick display, so all the babies are ours. (Pictures in a day or so...)

For Madison, one of the Fair highlights was the guy with the reptiles - 

 But for me...well, I'm simple.  I like the Fair food (who doesn't?), and the simplicity of one blue ribbon.  Yep, Mommy won a blue ribbon.  

(Fellow Ravelers, those are my Mystery Socks from my projects page...)

Of course, it is only one ribbon, compared to the dozens that Madison racked up, but I handle that situation like the mature, non-competitive,  supportive adult that I am...

It's not what you think...

OK, well, yeah...it IS my daughter in a cage.

But she's not doing a time out or anything...really.  She's catching the next chicken in our long line of beauties for the Fair Salon.

The world of competitive poultry requires either separate, full-time cages for everyone to insure cleanliness, or a day at the spa where we bathe, primp, and pedicure all the contestants before shipping them off to the Fairgrounds.

So this is Sapphire, the white silkie, getting her pedicure.  Everyone must have poop-free/mudfree toes and nails.

We only bathe those chickens who really need their feathers washed, since the process removes natural oils.  Not to mention the blow dryer time.

Here, we are dipping Cotton's nether parts in the soapy bath, since only her vent was a muddy, poopy mess.

(Doesn't that face say it all?)

So, yeah, I spent my Monday washing chicken poop off chickens and trimming toenails and fluffing feathers for a dozen of the family fowl.  Isn't that how everyone's week starts?

" Just a little off the top, dahling..."

Attention, Everyone!

Excuse me!  Can I have your attention?

I have something to tell you all that you should hear:

Michelle is AWESOME!

(For some of you, this is not news, but bear with me...)

She is one of the wonderful people I have met through blogging.  She and I share funny similarities (some we will mention, some are ours to know...)  That is enough to warrant the attention.

(Ahhem. Clear throat)

But several weeks ago, completely unsolicited, she did something very sweet. (Literally!)

When I commented on her blog about the cherries she had been  picking, she packed some up and sent them along!  I was very touched.  (There might have been wee tears of joy, but we're not confirming or denying.)

Now if I were at all artistic, there would be a cool award picture. (I am not.  So you will all have to settle for the next best thing - sheep.)

Shetland Sheep can stand in for a nice award picture any day.  If you do not own some, trust me on this.

P.S. The cherries were accompanied by a deadly cookie recipe, which I was unable to resist and forced to make as soon as they arrived, at which time I realized I was out of regular chocolate chips and had to substitute white chocolate chips in the recipe.  I could tell you that the reason I have not posted all of this news until now is that I was stricken by an uncontrollable urge to eat said cookies right from the oven and burned my mouth on their chocolately cherry goodness.  If I did go with that story, I would not be going to h-e-double toothpicks on THIS day...

The Market

That, my friends, is a Savoy cabbage.  My daughter grew it, or rather she encouraged me to grow it as I had never tried cabbage before. (And who can resist a little girl with a flat of seedlings?)

My new friend, Maryann (God help me, I don't know if I chose the right spelling on her name...) said I should take the photo and post it on the blog - so here it is!  Isn't it spectacular?  I will grow these again next year, even if just for the look.  They are the cabbages that artists use when they make those beautiful pictures of produce, all crisp and textured and every shade of green...

Madison sold it at the Market on Saturday - to a fellow who bought it on memories of his mother cooking that type of cabbage when he was young.  That's not unusual...I hear all kinds of stories from our customers about why they are at the Market, and why they buy what they buy. It's what I like best about Saturdays.

Sure, we have had our share of nutters, but that's an aspect of dealing with the public that you just have to bear. Like the guy who walked up and ate a handful of Madison's berries she was selling without paying for them, and then walked off and threatened the gal who sells organic meat and accused her of killing babies. Or the woman who shops at our booth every week, but refuses to touch us. I offered to shake her hand one week as an introduction and she almost had a stroke.  But the funniest part for me is that she uses the excuse every week that she is an artist and she is shopping, so THAT is why we can't touch. 

 (Huh???)

And my fellow Marketers are loads of fun - there's Maryann to one side (who sells veggies and soaps, honey, maple syrup, salsa, jams and was the one to turn us on to garlic scape pesto) and the meat CSA to the other side (with two of the cutest kids around - not for sale!)

Here they are under the table (when business is slow) with my daughter...

I have resurrected an old play tent of Madison's and we bring it with us now for the kids, so they do not scare the customers by popping out from underneath the table without notice...

Can you see the cage on the table? (look back at the last photo)  We try and bring a chick or bantam with us every week, and it has become a highlight.  People like to see the variety in chickens, or the kids like to touch and pet them, or people share stories of when they were kids and used to raise chickens.  We've even had repeaters who come looking not for the veggies, but to see the chicken we've brought!

As a beginning farmer, the best part about the Market is all that I learn about what people want, and what to grow next year (more dill and cilantro, please ) and what to avoid (stop trying to push my love of bulb fennel on the world),  I also see a trend that is both heartening and frightening - people are patronizing the market more because they are no longer willing to compromise their health for domestic and foreign produce treated with Lord knows what and they are taking an interest in shopping locally.  That is good.  But many of them are also shopping to supplement their own gardens, grown not only out of love for gardening, but necessity as their wallets grow thinner and thinner.  We are headed for some rough times (if we are not there already) when the idea of shopping locally because you can't afford the gas or having to rely on your own garden to supplement your budget is a daily reality.  THAT'S gonna wake some people up...

Things I've learned from Geese

We were given two Canada Geese goslings to foster, and we started right from the beginning saying they were destined to move on to a farm that could handle them, as soon as they were "ready".  

Lesson 1: Small, vulnerable, fuzzy things cause considerable weakness and lack of will.  They can erode even the most steely resolve NOT to keep them around.  My husband, who would not settle down the first day until he heard me say ten times that I had alternative plans for them, has now been heard to tell friends, "We are raising them.  And the one can't fly, so she may have to stay here, probably in the barn for winter."  He only says this when he thinks I am out of earshot.

They were clearly imprinted on humans by the time we got them, and they wasted no time in seeing us as foster parents, following us around the yard.  They would frequently come into the garden and sit with me as I weeded, and soon began to display what I thought was funny behavior.  They would squeak quite urgently and come over to see what I had pulled from the garden, tasting every clump and plant, seeming in the end to prefer the grass.  It took several days of this activity for my light bulb to go on...they clearly thought I was "eating", and came to taste test whatever I had pulled.

Lesson 2: The laws and intricacies of Mother Nature are not fool proof.  Sure, they had imprinted on us, but until we started to show them what was expected goose behavior, it was going to be hit or miss whether they learned what they needed to know, unless us dumb humans could get ahead of the curve.

How many times had I counseled teachers and educators that work with challenging kids that you need to teach the desired behavior, not just quell the problem behavior?  (Thousands of times would be the true answer, in case anyone is wondering...)

And the lessons did not stop with eating grass.  We made the same naive assumption when it came to the pond.  Sure, they would just take to it like, well, geese to water.  Right?  No.  Not until I donned the waders one day to pull the cattails did they dare to venture into the water; first a tentative few steps, then a quick jump in and right out again, and only after much trial and error did they settle down to glide and enjoy the pond.

I repeated the "grass picking" behavior, this time with pond plants, and now they easily will graze in either domain, although they seem to prefer the grass.

This pattern of behavior does leave me a little concerned, however, as I do not know how to fly, and have absolutely no intention of purchasing an ultra-lite.  (A reference to the movie, Fly Away Home, for those who have never seen it-check it out.)

Lesson 3: Puddle play and slapping one's feet when you walk are FUN.  Mothers everywhere should reconsider discouraging their children from these activities.  I have seen the geese do this repeatedly, and tried it plenty of times myself lately just to see what they see in it.  And I swear, when I do it along with them, they look at me sideways, and they approve.  I see it in their eyes.

Ouch!

Sorry if this grosses anybody out, but this is the best representation of "what's new" around here...According to the clinic, it is a brown recluse spider bite.  I guess the purple ring and the growing center areas where the poison is dissolving my skin is very characteristic.  Now I am sure there are entomologists that would argue we are out of the spider's native territory, but just as many say that with the highly mobile population of the United States, and the tendency of this spider to hide in darker places, that it could just have easily been transported up here.  The best I can guess, I encountered this spider on  Thursday while pitching hay bales in the barn at work.  

The bite is right in the middle of my back, beneath my right shoulder blade.  There is no effective anti-venom for this spider's bite, and if I weren't as healthy as I am (so the clinic says), apparently it could be a lot worse.  Thank God for small things!  It still hurts like nothing I have ever encountered, so it has put a wrinkle in my usual workload around here...hence the time to post!

I've got lots of photos to update everyone, so we won't linger on the icky one...

Candy and Cane

So named, (according to Madison) because they are so sweet.  I have to agree.

A friend called, two weeks ago now, and asked if we could help with two baby ducks she found aimlessly wandering the busy road in front of a party she was attending.  Mama was no where to be seen, and she scooped them up in a craft storage bin, and whisked them away to us.  (Really, how many people do you know that have heat lamps, cages, starter food, waterers and such just lying around?...so we farmers always get those calls.)

My husband just shook his head and muttered...don't know how he missed the part about my being pre-vet in my undergrad....hmmm

The "ducks" as the city girl called them, turned out to be Canada Geese goslings.    Kind of a love/hate relationship with them in these parts.  Far too many of them have become squatters on local parks, ponds, riverways, and yards and have made poopy pests of themselves.  At the same time, they are wild animals, and we have screwed up their habitat and normal hibernation patterns, so what to do?

There was no wildlife rehabilitator available, and these guys were already pretty imprinted on humans, so when my boss volunteered to take them to her mother's farm in Massachusetts, we agreed to keep them for a few weeks.

Look how incredibly fast they grow!  In just two short weeks they have tripled in size.  They are very endearing - nothing like the happy slip slap of gosling feet behind you as they waddle in determined focus, never letting you out of their sight.

It is going to be very hard to let these guys go...

 

Out of the Shell

Finally, I am far enough out of my funk to think about posting again.  And how appropriate that it be about the new chicks; the harbingers of Spring, new life, and generally joyous little balls of energy.

They arrived at the end of April; not soon enough for Madison, and frankly, too soon for Lucky. She could have stayed under the heat bulb for days.

This photo certainly looks like a lot of chicks, but only 5 are ours.  

Most went to my boss (12 Black Australops) and three Ameracaunas and a Barred Rock are destined for another homestead.  Madison finally got her Silkie, and I am trying for a girlfriend for Gomer, the Old English Game Bantam Red Pyle we rescued from the Fair last year.  We won't know for some time if Speck is going to fit the bill...

And shortly after the chicks arrived, we got another "rescue" (more about that later, I have to go to work!)

Gracious Thank You!

I was nominated for something very nice.  By a very nice person I met through blogging.  And it may look to her like I've ignored the nod, but really I haven't. It's just I am struggling to try and figure out this new technology...

It means that Kathy reads the blog, and finds it inspiring and thoughtful and positive and she's ready to say so!

What a compliment!  I started blogging out of curiosity with the medium, and stuck with it because of the connections I made around the world, and I feel dedicated to it as a way of sharing important ideas and events.  So part of this nomination is to share with you other blogs I feel are inspiring and thoughtful and positive.  That would be a constantly growing list, as I love to link and read and follow all sorts of cybertrails...but kudos (to start) to these:

A Shepherd's Voice: this was my first "blog" I followed, and I continue to be impressed and heartened by Nancy's frank sharing of her ups and downs, and also treated to some of the best farm photography I have ever seen.  The fact that many of her photos feature Shetland Sheep, is well, a bonus.

Pretending to Farm: What fun to follow the life of another woman who loves this lifestyle as much as I do, and is determined to cram it into her little acreage and chaotic family no matter what.  (A kindred spirit...)  And a damn good writer, too...did I mention?

Sheep Thrills Farm:  Just when you (ignorantly) thought that the whole world was doing it just like you...you discover someone who shakes up that notion every day.  She lives in Arizona (cacti, sand, heat and lizards, right???) and raises (what else?) Shetlands.  Nope.  She's got everything Upstate NY, except the maple syrup.

Boulderneigh: More than once Michelle and I have noticed the parallels in our lives, but let me tell you, she is the good twin.  She takes life with more grace and faith than I ever could.  And she can spin...wish she were East Coast so she could teach me!

Knitting &: I met Karin when she had a LYS in Albany, and her creativity and energy always inspire me.  Visit her blog and follow her soapbox moments, too, they're just as good as her knitting!

Now that's only 5; there's more, but I don't dare try too big a post with this new computer....yet.

 

There's an explanation...

For my substantial blog absence, that is.  First, there was company.  And the company brought a new I-Mac. (Note: I have been a PC gal for over a decade, and this object is COMPLETELY foreign to me)  And work just went crazy busy.  There's a lot I can share with you, but let me just try this one blog post with the new equipment, and we'll go forth from there...

The goats are freshening, and there are babies everywhere! These are some of the first, sharing a playpen. Now, Shetland enthusiasts, don't despair...I am not converting to goats, but without any lambs this year, I have to settle...

So, check this out. (Still fascinating, no matter how many times I get to see it, birth is simply amazing.) My Shetland girls always lambed in secret, robbing me of any fun. These goats are not nearly as shy, and by now I am just another "post in the barn", so to speak, so I had a front row seat.

Viola!  

(Note: DH and daughter thought these pictures were disgusting, and ran from the computer with a chorus of Eeewww! and Yech!)

Now, putting this post together has frazzled my patience, so you'll have to wait for further updates...and if anyone can tell me why this blasted cursor rockets off to the edge of the screen with no warning, I'd love to hear it.  That never happened with the PC...just saying...

It's Off To Work We Go

The first blog I ever read with any regularity was Nancy's, and you might say she inspired me to start my own. She has also inspired me to show you my "commute" to work, much as she did.

Commuting has changed considerably, since my life has done such a 180 degree turn and launched me into farming full time...it's gone from an hour to just over ten minutes. Perhaps not much to see in 8 or so miles, but here we go...

Much of the drive is framed by the low mountains of the Taconics, nestled between the Green Mountains of Vermont, the Berkshires of Massachusetts, and the Adirondacks of New York. We are literally at the joining of the three states. It's that dismal time of the year for scenery, and this was taken just hours before an ice storm hit...the grey is both permeating and foreboding.

Half of the commute we travel alongside either the Little Hoosic River, or the main Hoosic River.

And if you blink when you pass through this intersection in the heart of Hoosick, NY you would miss the Moose Store, where they have EVERYTHING moose. It is a relatively new enterprise, designed to capture the tourist crowd as they zip past from New Jersey (mostly) on their way to Vermont (to ski, I suppose) but I think it's survival will actually depend on the favor of the locals. And so far, the upscale, opportunistic owner from a Saratoga bedroom community doesn't "get" that. He refuses to feature local farmers, producers or artists unless they present their product slathered in moose labels or kitchy moose-themed marketing. Yeah, good luck with that, bub. Seemingly better are the Mennonite artisans who have opened a furniture shop here almost two years ago. The giant chair is a recent addition to the roadside signage, and I so want to sit in it and get my picture taken. Probably just like the hundreds of folks who drive past each day. (I bet that could get old quick if I worked there...)

And every day I am reminded of the deep history of this place...like Mr. Fraser here, who was with Lewis and Clark when they explored the Louisiana Purchase, among other things. I pass his birthplace.

At last, on to the farm, which is framed first by the maple grove, ready for tapping in just a few weeks:

Finally, the hub of the farm which sits nestled in the center of 600 acres:

I did, however, have one advantage over Nancy. I had my own photographer to help me:

She's the one on the right...

No picture, please

There is not, and should not be, a photograph for today's post. It was cold again today, so we decided on another "off-season" task: caprine pedicures.

For those unaquainted with nasty, overgrown goat's feet, let me tell you this. Yech, yech, and yech. Worse than your worst imaginings. Remember, these guys trot around in mud and manure pretty much all the time. Their hooves, like fingernails, grow constantly. And therefore need trimming at least twice a year. I do the Pygoras on our farm every time I shear them. (About every 6 months) I won't even venture a guess when the last time these diary goats were trimmed...but, back to the facts. Both the inner and outer walls of the hoof must be trimmed, any gunk present scraped away, and even the pad trimmed down if it is not flat. You go until you see pink tint in the hoof, then stop before you draw blood.

And although I have done this chore myself for several years, and read plenty of "how-to's", the essence of the job was revealed to me when my boss explained, "trim the hoof parallel to the hair line" for the best shaping. And, "keep the sole FLAT." It was just one of those "light-bulb" moments, when all that I had read and sort of understood just fell away, and the clarity and simplicity of her instruction hit home. Not to mention I had to repeat those instructions to myself 120 times. Yep. I trimmed 120 goat feet at work today.

So, instead of the photo of gnarly hooves, grimy hands, toe funk, nail trimmings, and the occasional pile of poo, I leave you with this:

Sunday, one of the barn kitties, was napping across the warm back of Purple Collar. (Not an incredibly interesting name, but these are production animals, and not pets...) She sat up for the photo - sorry for the alien eyes, but you get the idea.

What I Did At Work Today

(Froze my freaking butt off!) OK, really. It is winter, and we are not milking, therefore there is no cheese to make. So what is a "farmer" to do?

There is a pasture across the road from the main farm that is long overdue for a mowing/clean-up/conditioning, so we are planning to run a Mowing Menagerie there this Spring, and eat up all the rose bushes, bramble, young trees, and other stuff cluttering the view. To get ready, we need to remove decades-old barbed wire in dire dis-repair, rotten old fence posts with various hardware, garbage etc. and make it safe for the critters.



Today was our second day of clean-up: clip the run of wire between fallen posts, pull the strand free from the bracken and honeysuckle, fold it up to a portable size, and into the farm pick-up. Save all the loose nails, staples and bits for the bucket, and on to the next strand. Pile all fallen or broken off posts for pick-up later, and keep your eyes peeled for plastic fence posts, old electric wire, beer bottles, oil cans, and shotgun shells. (Annoying red plastic does not belong in a pasture...it hurts the eyes) Sounds easy enough, but remember, the fence is in an area that looks much like this:

But without most of the pretty snow...

And I am unclear why exactly they say witches' gazongas are so cold, but I was definitely as cold as them today - the windchill was -5 F for most of the day. Except when it was -6 F. Brrrr.

Wow...who knew?

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Her Most Serene Highness Lady Melanie the Talkative of Tempting St Mary Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

I discovered this with a little help from Lauren and Beth and RevJen. Now, who do we think the Tempting St. Mary is...would that be Mary Magdalene? Interesting company, to say the least.

However, if I am to live up to my title, I surely must post more...