Posts Tagged ‘Chickens’
Dakota is Gone
A farm is an ever flowing river of new life coming in and saying good-bye to a life lived long and happy. We were reminded of that this past week when our beloved Springer spaniel “Dakota” died.
We were at the State Fair when we got the news. Actually, Brianne was in the middle of the show ring when I heard, so I opted not to tell her until the next day. Knowing wouldn’t have changed anything, but it could have greatly affected her showing ability.
He died of natural causes. There was no lingering disease or injury that took him from us, just a long life lived out that was ready to come to a close. Over the past few months Dakota had begun to slow down, sleeping more and playing less. He still ate well and would occasionally roll around in the grass especially if there was someone to watch and play with him. He still followed us out to the barn and monitored the activities of the chickens and the sheep, albeit at a much slower pace than in his youth. But, his gait was that of an old man, his bark less robust.
The signs were there. I knew his time was coming. He passed away on a cool summer morning, in the shade of a potato vine that grows along our south fence. It was his favorite spot. Not a bad way to leave this world, I think.
We rescued Dakota from the pound almost 9 years ago. At his adoption, the kennel manager thought he could be 3 to 5 years old. They weren’t sure. He was a loveable, cuddle dog who loved to be with his people. He was our truck dog co-pilot and backseat driver. He loved to go everywhere in the truck. He was the watcher of our sheep and gentle around the poultry. He lived the life of a farm dog…rolling in mud, eating poop, chasing squirrels, guarding our farm, eating fresh from the garden and lying in front of a warm fire in winter.
We made a lot of great memories with that dog. He will be missed.
Best Ever Berry Jam
Within 5 miles of our house we have three U-pick operations and several Farmer’s Markets where we can find a good selection of seasonal berries. And, although there is nothing better than jumping in the car, combing fields for the freshest produce and ripping it from the soil, the place I like the best is my neighbor’s backyard.
We watch Fran and Joe’s place, feed the chickens and water the gardens when they are on vacation. Our payment…anything that’s ripe.
It was cloudy and a slight westerly breeze blew when Brianne and I walked down the street to check on things. As Brianne went about her chores, I headed for the berry patch. The huge, dark blackberries clung to their canes like gems. I filled my colander. I had a plan. That afternoon I would take these little gems and cook them slowly on the stove, filling the house with their sweet aroma. Mmmm.
Making any kind of Berry Jam is easy. All you really need is berries and sugar. You can use pectin (liquid or powder) if you like, but I prefer not to. I just fill a large pot with 9 cups of berries and 6 cups of sugar, turn the heat on and slowly bring to a boil, stirring occasionally, until all the sugar is dissolved. At this point I either mash the berries with a potato masher or lightly whirl them with an emersion blender, making sure to leave a bit of chunkiness. I continue cooking and stirring the jam rapidly until it reaches the gelling point. When the jam is gelled enough I remove it from the stove and ladle it into hot jars. The jars are dropped into the water bath canner for 15 minutes then set on a clean dry cloth to cool. When you hear the tell-tale POP of the lid, signaling the proper seal, you know you’ve done it right.
The whole process, from first wash of berries to the last lid POPPING takes less than an hour. And, for that you get enough berry goodness to remind you of summer all winter long. I made 9 pints of jam. That’s a lot of jam, folks! And, what a bargain, too. For the price of a few jars and lids, and free berries from friendly neighbors my pantry is stocked with something way better than Smuckers. Not a bad deal!
For detailed instructions, pick up a copy of the famous Ball Blue Book Guide to Preserving, at any hardware, farm store, book or discount store. It covers everything you need to know about canning and costs less than a case of jars. Enjoy!
photo credit: Price Finder
Peak Oil
I never intended this site to talk about militia tactics, conspiracy theories or post-oil survivalist ways, but it is becoming increasingly impossible to be involved in homesteading and the local food culture and not be at least aware of, if not affected by, the topic of Peak Oil.
I take solace though that the more I read and learn about energy issues the more content I feel that I have chickens who give us eggs, lambs who provide us with meat, a garden, berry patch and fruit orchard that supplies us with fresh produce and the where with all to combine those ingredients into a satisfying meal for my family.
If this topic is new to you or you’ve never heard about it before you may want to ask yourself these simple questions. What is Peak Oil? Do you think Peak Oil is fact or fiction? Do you or your family base decisions based on the future of oil?
Do you think the current boom in small farming and homesteading is the result of worries about peak oil, the food supply or energy issues in general, or is it just a fad? I’m sure our readers would be curious to know what you all think.
The Peak Oil clip above is a quick 3 minute video visually explaining Peak Oil, what oil is used for, and what the future may hold with regards to Peak Oil.
To learn more about Peak Oil check out this YouTube video by VideoNation, or simply plug Peak Oil into your browser window for more videos and articles.
Accidental Education
I’ve come to realize that most of my education on the farm has been as much a case of learning by chance then by deliberate study. Or should I say we learn just by living. For certain, the learning we gain through experience or by doing sticks with us long after the classroom fades. I may not remember anything about my statistics class, but I will not forget what happened when I was dumb enough to walk through the corral with a bucket full of grain or store my feed bins too close to the sheep pens.
I’ve learned by chance, for example, that a good way to start pumpkin seeds is to let the pumpkins rot in place. As the bottom of the pumpkin decays away the seeds start to sprout inside the shell, protected by winter cold. In spring all I have to do is transplant the tiny plants into individual containers until they are ready to plant out in the pumpkin patch.
Seeds dropped by birds or blown in on the wind can nestle themselves into friable debris piles near the barn and come to sprout in the warm composting material until ready to plant.
Another accidental discovery took place this past fall after the lambs had been sent off to the butcher. We left the remaining hay in its normal place on the barn floor instead of using it for mulch or composting material. As the weeks and months went by I noticed the remaining hay bales kept settling down and spreading out more than it should be doing naturally. What the heck was going on? Read the rest of the story »
Changes From Within
We are a small suburban homestead here—a few cloven hooves, a few mixed breed chickens, a rabbit, a garden with fruit trees and berry canes, and two wandering dogs.
The posts that hold the arbor fences also hold the laundry line. The lamb I roast for Sunday dinner is also the lamb that is chopped and sprinkled over kibble. The shells from the eggs I crack into omelets end up in the compost, and scraps of fresh salad greens and veggies are feasts for our feathered ones. So what was once waste, to be thrown into the trash, is now feed for future eggs or chicken salad or turned into garden soil. The system we have is simple, but it serves us well.
There is work yet to be done though; I’d like to have a greenhouse to extend our growing season, a pond with geese and Thanksgiving turkeys. But, for now there is a garden to turn and meat chicks to raise. There are the chores of switching from one season to another, lamb to sell, firewood to lie in and workshops to attend. Without really knowing how, it all seems to fall into place. It all, somehow, gets done.
As I think back on all we have accomplished, I realize that the real work of this farm is not the food we’ve grown or the skills we’ve learned: it’s us. I say this will all sincerity.
When you build a place into your life purpose it changes you; changes how you understand yourself. It humbles you, but not at the mercy of the main intention. There’s no room for ego when there’s a barn full of shit waiting to be shoveled. When I think back over how we have slowly turned an overgrown suburban lot into what we want it to be, I see confidence in who we are, strength in who Brianne will become, but also worries. I never used to think about Brianne going off on her own, wanting to make her own way. I know she wants her own place one day, but I think about how and where and when. I worry about tasks that are beyond my strength, being alone and having time to myself. Certain things subside over time, but some stay raw and exposed.
Maybe that’s just the growing part. Or, maybe this place is teaching me to mind my priorities and let logic win over emotion. I’m not quite sure. I do know one thing I’m happy in this life, feel at home on our little farm with the animals and home cooked meals. I can close my eyes, click my heels three times and settle in.
Perhaps we never really settle down into our lives. Maybe we just have to give our lives time to settle into us.
Keeping Roosters – Quietly and Responsibly
Backyard poultry keeping has surged in the past year or so. Many families are taking advantage of the easy keeping and productive nature of chickens. But when you find yourself with an adolescent rooster, just learning to crow, many of us ask how do we keep him quiet.
Many cities around the country ban roosters to prevent nuisance complaints, even though there are several ways to keep roosters in populated areas quietly and responsibly. There are really only two reasons to have roosters in your backyard flock – to protect and to fertilize eggs. If your flock is well confined and safe from predators, whether they be furry or feathered, there’s really no need for a rooster’s protection. If you do not plan to breed your hens and hatch their eggs, or do not wish to have fertilized eggs, you also have no need for a rooster.
If you keep a small backyard flock without a rooster, one hen will generally take the rooster’s role. She will keep an eye out for predators, alert the flock if danger is near, maintain the pecking order and, in rare cases, may even crow.
But, if you see cute, fuzzy baby chicks in your future then you definitely need a rooster.
So – how do you keep the father of your flock with out disturbing your neighbors?
Most roosters begin to crow at daybreak. Even the slightest glimmer of light starts my guys off in a rousing cacophony. The trick is – well – to trick them. Trick them into thinking its still dark out.
Roosters can be moved into the garage at night, into their own cage where they cannot tell when the sun comes up. They can also be placed in a cage inside the coop or a spare rabbit hutch or even a plastic dog crate and covered with a tarp or thick blanket. Again, so they can’t see when the sun comes up. If they do happen to crow, the noise is muffled enough that most people won’t be able to hear it.
I like keeping roosters and think they’ve gotten a bad rap. I love the way they strut around the yard looking after their girls, their beautiful feathers spread out in a rainbow of colors. I love the way they perch themselves on top of fence posts or wheelbarrows, smug and indignant, showing everyone they’re the boss. And, most of all I love the chicks we raise to replenish our flock or give away to friends so they can know the joy of having their own backyard flock.
I understand that roosters are not for everyone and I understand that most people did not bargain for neighbors that crow so early in the morning. Roosters are beautiful and they do serve a purpose. Not having them may be a necessary compromise suburban chicken keepers have to make in order to take one step closer to self-sufficiency.
photo credit: 826 PARANORMAL
A Year in the Life of a Suburban Homestead
SUMMER
July
Ever since I was a little girl I have always enjoyed roses. Over the years and as my tastes have changed I find myself drawn more to the antique rose varieties than anything else. I love their fragrance and the look of them reminds me of quite days lived in country castles. I have dozens of David Austen roses around my place and during July they burst into bloom with an intoxicating perfume that hangs over the whole garden. The garden as a whole keeps use pretty busy during July. The weather is hotter and keeping things moist is a daily challenge. But, it’s also a time of great reward. Seeds and transplants started earlier in the year now bear constantly.
First tomatoes come off around Fourth of July
More direct sown seeds planted
Water daily
Weed and mulch as needed
Spent veggies fed to chickens
Mid-season berries picked, eaten fresh and frozen for winter
Peach harvest continues
Peaches canned and frozen
Beans canned and frozen
Pickled beets canned
Herbs dried
Preparations made and animals groomed for State Fair
Attend and show at State Fair
August
Our family has shown at the county fair for more than 30-years. Now it’s Brianne’s turn. She loves hanging out in the barn visiting with friends while grooming her sheep. I love watching her grow with each passing year. She and her friends are fiercely competitive inside the show ring, but outside they are just a bunch of giggly silly teenagers. It’s so much fun to watch. August is a hard time to be away from the homestead, so much is going on this month. But, I have wonderful neighbors who feed animals and water gardens. Secretly, I think they like when we’re gone because they get paid in free range eggs and fresh produce.
Weeding and watering are our life
Tomatoes harvested daily; frozen for future processing
Other veggies harvested; what can’t be processed is frozen for later time
Onions braided and hung to dry
Fruit trees and berries fed
Turkeys butchered and wrapped for freezer
Preparations made and animals groomed for County Fair
Attend and show at County Fair
Left over fair lambs sold or butchered
Broiler chicks arrive end of month
September
With fairs over and prizes displayed, our mind turns to school. Brianne actually starts school the last week of August, but with our busy schedule we are never prepared. The bulk of the shopping takes place on Labor Day weekend – usually the hottest weekend of the month. The homestead seems quiet this time of year, with most of the animals gone. Only the broiler chickens remain, but they are easy to care for. The garden seems to rebound in September, as late spring and summer plantings come off, fall plantings of onions, garlic and root vegetables take their place. We even get a glimpse of our future squash and pumpkin harvest.
Dried beans harvested, vines given to chickens
Zucchini, patty pan, crookneck and other squash harvested
Zucchini relish canned
Broilers butchered at 4-weeks (Cornish game hen size)
Lay in firewood for a warm winter
Clean trailer and store for winter; bedding used in chicken coop as winter bedding
All livestock equipment cleaned, oiled and stored for winter
Shearing blades sent to be re-sharpened
Show blankets repaired and stored
photo credit: andrewodom
Stealing the Day
I feel like I have stolen this day. I took off from work, so instead of the usual morning routine I really took my time with farm chores this morning. Nothing grand, just a few extra moments to check over the animals, water the plants on the porch and brew a pot of fresh tea, which I just pulled off the stove burbling and gerking as I pour it into the teapot. Oh, it’s shear decadence for an office farmer to have a day off work.
Moments ago, when I walked outside, the grass was damp from the early morning fog. In spite of its sogginess, the sun was out; the sky was a clear blue and bounced off every tiny droplet. I breathed deep, taking it all in, savoring the taste. It’s hard to feel Zen though when sheep are baaing, hens are cackling, dogs are barking and a lone rabbit is racing around in his hutch. They all want breakfast and they all want it now. You can see how that moment wasn’t quite serene. But, it was to me.
Brianne and I started our morning chores like we always do, in the sheep pen. They are the most eager and can cause the most trouble if not fed promptly, so off she went to fill grain buckets, top off the water trough and throw a few handfuls of hay. I fed and checked on the dogs then moved towards the chicken coop to make sure we hadn’t lost anyone in the night. With the headcount complete I lifted the latch on the gate and let the hens out into the barn. From there they can make their way into the garden and around the yard.
Every day we let the hens out of their coop, and give them a chance to feel the warm sun, scratch in the dirt looking for bugs and peck at the green grass. They’re sneaky beasts though. Clever enough to fly over fences and too curious to stay out of the garden, so I keep them away from the lettuce just to give myself peace of mind.
A load of laundry I washed last night is ready to hang on the line. The sun was barely over the tree tops as I clipped each piece of clothing to the line. Laundry is an oddly calming job, almost therapeutic.
By the time we came inside I felt oddly refreshed from our slow morning of chores.
Our weekend mostly involved transporting sheep (Brianne was involved with a showmanship workshop) and June gardening.
I’ve come to the conclusion that “June gardening” is just a romantic way of saying weeding. I spent hours down on my hands and knees pulling intruders from between the rows. This year’s garden started out to be the most diverse we’ve ever attempted, and we have the weeds to show for it, but we haven’t been without our troubles. And, the only things that seem to be thriving in the garden are the rabbits and squirrels. Our verdant young peach tree that was loaded has now been stripped bare. Not one peach is left. Oh, a few pits clung to the branches, but nothing that’s edible for us. I don’t mind part of my crops going to the wildlife, but when they get greedy that’s another matter entirely.
This is a strange place to be a homesteader. I have never lived or worked with so many people that stand on both sides of the farming fence. Nearly half my neighbors grow their own, while the other half has no use for gardening at all. I’m sometimes a telephone farmer as well. Just yesterday, my neighbor Fran called to talk about the new chicks we had given her and how they were too timid to go inside the coop, so spent the night under the ramp that leads to the coop. Seems like everyone’s working for their supper these days.
As I type things are pretty quiet outside, which is a rare occurrence. Their mouths must be full. From the kitchen door I can see the roosters strut around the yard guarding his girls. I see the sheep frolicking and chasing each other in their fenced yard. I know the rabbit is content and the dogs are napping after their morning meal. And me—the Queen of all this majesty¬—am enjoying a cup of tea smooth enough to calm any savage beast.
Not a bad way to start a stolen day. Not bad at all.
I am a Homebody
The past few weeks have been crazy busy with end of school finals, stock up trips and of course last months holiday. When life gets like this, and I’m away from my little homestead all I can think about is getting back to the quiet and peace of my oasis. Its times like these that make me realize – I am a homebody. I like the comfort of my homestead. Outside the sun is gleaming, the birds are singing and there’s a soft, cool breeze blowing that makes me want to snuggle up in a hammock with an old quilt, a glass of tea and a good book. Spring wants to linger here a while longer and we welcome her with open arms. Always.
Here on my homestead, in my little farmhouse, laundry hangs on the line. Fresh cut flowers adorn my tables and the scent of home cooked banana bread seasons the air. Autumn is far off and although we love the roaring fires that warm our home and the glint of candles that light up the dark corners of our rooms we are content with the months that allow us to dig in the dirt long into the evening.
Outside my window the sheep laze in the shade and chew their cuds, while the chickens send up clouds of brown dust while bathing in the soft dirt. The dogs, ever vigilant, are on the prowl for rabbits and squirrels that have been damaging the garden. Well fed and content, the animals make me feel even more comfortable. Come dinner time we will be well fed too. Home raised lamb thaws on the counter. Later tonight it will be sizzling on the grill along with fresh zucchini, onions and potatoes. A fine meal to be sure. After evening rounds and a blazing western sunset – I am ready for bed too. It’s because I am a homebody that I am happy to be tucked away in my little walled garden, away from the hectic outside world.
Cool damp fog hung for most of the morning, leaving the homestead looking like some mystical forest in a far-away land. It seemed gloomy. But, the only animal on the farm that seemed to feel it was me. The cool morning seemed to invigorate the livestock. The sheep raced and jumped in their corral. The chickens scurried and clucked as they found tidbits of grain on the barn floor.
I spent the cool morning weeding and planting winter squash and sunflowers to brighten our tables or give as gifts. Sunflowers make me happy. They remind me of fall, my favorite season. The mixture of seeds, black, striped, large and small, lay in a bed of soil rich in our rabbits’ leavings and our chickens’ old meals. In a few weeks they will have pushed through the soil, reaching for the sun and we’ll be on our way to having yellow lion, burgundy and gold in our vases. Sunflowers mean we’re that much closer to fall.
When the fog burned off and the temperature began to rise, making the weeding and planting too much of an effort I came inside to make the salad for tonight’s grilled dinner. The house smelled of honey-maple bacon and fresh cut broccoli when I went out to collect another batch of eggs. Here the work seems never ending (and it is) but it flows through our days as normal and steady as commuting to work or going to school does. It’s a common mean to a common goal.
Not everything is faultless here. I paint a picture of perfection, but only because I ignore the things that make homesteading so hard. I cheat hardship with ignorance. But know my body is always sore and sometimes I feel like I’m the most tired mom in America.
We rise before 6:00 most mornings, and sometimes don’t come inside for dinner till way after dusk (that’s 8:30 this time of year). When we shower at the end of a long day the damage of our life is evident. Brianne is bumped and bruised from working her lambs; there are cuts and scrapes from battles with fencing; blisters from hoeing or turning over another bed; bug bites and bad tan lines. Yah – really bad tan lines. Our homestead, as humble as it is, is a full time job. And it shares its life with people who already have a full time job, whether it be work or school. Its work and it’s hard. I’m not sure we should be envied or that people should live vicariously through us. Just a considerate warning.
BUT, I feel the same way about the dark side of this homestead as I do about learning any new skill. You pick it up for the first time and it sucks. You’re not good, the timing is off or your lines are not straight. Your muscles ache and your fingers throb. You get angry and frustrated. The learning comes slow, slower than you wish. But, at the end, when it’s over, you know there is the possibility of a finished product. You’ve seen it before, and know the appreciation it can render. So you shrug off the pain, forget about the bad things, and keep moving forward. Which, is what we do with every scar and sore arm. Collateral damage.
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