The Fool On the Hill

The "tweaking" of the homestead continues here at Chicken Scratch.  I continue to work to find ways to get it to run more efficiently and effectively.  It has been quite a challenge.

• First, the "babies" have been disbudded.  I HATE disbudding, I think it's a horrible practice.  However, I understand why we do it, as I've pulled quite a few goats' heads out of the fence in my time, and often they're not just stuck, they are woven in it, and the horns are the thing that prevents them from getting out.  Though there's nothing I can do about the goats with horns, I can try to prevent it from happening to future goats.  Hence, the disbudding.  The girl was ok with it...or as ok as one who is having their head burned can be, but the little guy took it very hard.

Little girl

Little boy

Not being the type who likes to inflict pain on animals, I felt horrible and sat with him for hours.  He would just groan and groan and then softly meh, like it was too much trouble to make a big meh.  He would lay down and look like he was dying.  Then I would pick him up and put him in my lap, and he'd stop mehing, but he'd sigh a lot and groan and make a little meh here and there, and generally look like he was dying.  And I thought, "Oh my god, I killed him.  I did something wrong this time".

But he was totally playing me.

And when his mommy came in (Lilly) and proceeded to beat up on one of the other girls, he shot out of my lap like a rocket to watch, ran around and jumped up and down and followed her, cheering her on, and then drank about a gallon of milk from her udder.  ...Then noticed me sitting in the house, so he started to groan and make little meh cries again, and he came and laid down next to me, again looking like he was dead or dying, and I felt horrible and picked him up and held him, and he laid there like it was his last days on earth.

Then the cat walked by, and he ditched me to sniff it and smack it---with his head.

Nicely played, my friend, nicely played. 

So needless to say, he's all right, but yes I did still worry.  The little boy is spoken for already, but will not leave until he is weaning age.  The little girl is not yet spoken for, but since she's a beauty with a mom who is an EXCELLENT milker, I'm not worried too much.  She will stay until weaning age as well, because those two are attached at the hip, and it would be unfair to separate them so early.

Peony "Bowl of Beauty"

• In other news with the goats, my husband and I continue to plan how to expand the pen for the goats so they can graze.  Once again, they came into the spring in rough condition, but now that they are getting fresh forage and fresh hay, they are starting to look better.  I expect them to always have this problem, as winter is winter, but during the spring, summer, and even fall months, I want to be able to better use the land we live on, ie; allowing them more access to the woods, so they can glean what they need and not require so many inputs from us.  So, we create pens that will allow them to go and glean and pig out and be happy and generally take in the nutrients they need--just the way they are supposed to.  This also means that I am thinking about how to use the area to store food for them for the winter months, so I do not have to rely so much on hay.  How to do this is a tough question to answer.  Any suggestions are appreciated. 

Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!

• Animal-wise, the geese have moved on.  This was a decision long in the making, as I really do like the geese, but they are awfully noisy.  Back when we had 70-odd chickens who free-ranged constantly, the geese were integral to keeping the flock safe.  They watched the skies and warned the chickens when there was a threat.  Very important work, and they were good at it.  But the chicken flock is at about half that number or less, and then no longer free range as often or for as long, as the coyotes discovered them and last year many were disappearing.  Geese are no match for coyotes.  So the geese were unemployed, and quite bored.  They were loud, but for no good purpose anymore, so it was time for them to go.  I am happy to say the whole gaggle is now living on a 200 acre farm which is to be a petting zoo for autistic children.  I hope they will have good lives.  It was hard to let them go, but I think we made the right decision.

Happy broccoli

• While the geese are gone, I am working on rebuilding the pond ecosystem.  The pond is small and shallow, and with that many geese, it was difficult to do anything with it.  Either their manure would kill things, or they would eat anything I planted.  But now I can gain a headway, and get some water-loving plants in there to help filter and clean the water, as well as hopefully re-sculpting the pond a bit to stop it from leaking.  The pond has been a thorn in my side since forever, and it's taken years to even get it this far, but I hope to get it sorted out.  It is a valuable resource to have, and one that I need to get working properly.



Happy tomato

• Speaking of rainwater management, I have begun work on a rain barrel system to catch and store the water that runs off the roof and into the gutters.  This is water that can be used to water the plants, such as the annuals all around the property in pots.  It can, in a pinch, be used to water the crops, but such a process will be slow, unless we figure out a way to make it faster than filling a bucket at a time.  I also feel the water can be used to water the poultry and waterfowl, which can tolerate rainwater.  I am not sure about the goats just yet.
 

 
• On the crop front, this year has been rough so far.  Though I am pleased to say that everything that needed to get into the ground got in the ground when it should have (despite the second full time job), the weather has been interesting, and some things are struggling.  Lettuce, tomatoes, pumpkins, potatoes, peas, garlic, cucumbers and the strawberries all seem to be doing well, but other things are not.  The peppers and eggplant are both in their second planting, as the first one pretty much failed.  The beans and corn are limping along, and I have had an outbreak of cucumber beetles unlike anything I have ever seen, and the winter squash have suffered because of it.  I am concerned, but still hopeful.  Last year was a weird one for weather as well, but it still managed to work out.  I am hoping it will be the same again.

The dry beans are pretty much a no-show

• On the meatbird front, the Cornish Cross were butchered a couple of weeks ago, and we got some huge chickens from it.  There were a couple over 8 pounds, and a few that were nearly 8 pounds.  In all, a good harvest weight-wise, but we lost too many birds this time.  I can't point out a reason for it, but it did not go well.  It has made me re-think where I purchase the birds from, as my "go-to" hatchery seems to have failed me.  In truth, I have started to re-think the Cornish Cross altogether, as the price of grain is going up and up and up, and those guys eat a lot.  Yes, we love the birds, but cost of the grain is going to make them infeasible.  Instead, I look at the Delaware crosses we have running around, and I wonder if I'm seeing the future.  They eat very little in concentrated grain.  Instead, they forage constantly and pull what they need from the land.  This will be extremely useful in the future, as the prices continue to rise.  So as a side project, we have started to select the best of the ones we have, and we will breed them to others that we have to see if we can get a really nice chicken out of it.  It will not be on par with the Cornish Cross size-wise, but getting a good tasting bird with a nice amount of meat on it is really all we need.  We just need to rearrange our thinking a little.

The wave of the future?

• Dulcinea is a milk machine, and Lilly is up to bat come Saturday, so it's been a big cheese making time here.  Yesterday I made some cheddar, which is my go-to cheese when I have a lot of milk and a little time.  We eat a LOT of cheddar, so making it is high up on my list of things I like to make and turn out.  Yesterday, though, I decided to use the Anatto extract I had to color it orange.  When my kids were little, and we bought American Cheese (we no longer do), they would BEG for the orange cheese.  And, of course, most cheese in the supermarket is orange.  But when the cheese I was making was being made, I have to tell you that the orange color freaked me out a bit.  It is a really odd color for cheese.  It made me think about who in the hell thought cheese should be orange in the first place, and why.  It seems really strange to me, and the weirdest thing was how I accepted all along that cheese was orange--which of course, it isn't.  I know, odd thoughts.  But sufficed to say, I think coloring cheese orange is really weird, and I won't be repeating it.  And I guess, if I ever need to buy cheese from the supermarket again, I will really think twice about that color.  Point is, did you ever think of how many odd things we accept?  I bet you're thinking about it now!

• And speaking of questioning things and accepting things, I would urge you to read the June/July issue of Mother Earth News.  This time around they wrote articles about the lack of nutrition in the foods we eat and the "Green Revolution".  It gave me a lot to think about.  I have known for a long time that the reason agriculture has tootled along for so long was because of fossil fuel inputs (fertilizer), and that the fossil fuels are getting harder to find.  This, of course, means that food will become harder to find, when there is no "quick and dirty" way to prop the system up.  Knowing this is why I have chosen to do what I do--I have children.  I want to provide for them.  What I never realized was how nutritionally deficient those mass-farmed foods really are, and how bad that really is for all of us.  It gave me yet another reason to redouble my efforts. 

I will also add, that if you are feeling low, Joel Salatin's article in this same issue will give you a boost.  I take a lot of flack from people about growing as many things as I do, and keeping as many animals as I keep.  Whether it's a family member wondering "why I would bother" with all the animals, or a coworker telling me "how much work" this all is, there is a lot of pressure to conform.  I've been called crazy, I've been laughed at.  Mostly people just shake their heads and walk away, discussion over. 

Discouraging as it can be sometimes, I have always just looked at what I do as "opting out" of a system of which I did not want to be a part.  I do not want to contribute to the destruction of our planet as much as others might do (I cannot deny that I use fossil fuels, though I try to minimize our usage).  I do not want to rely solely on others for food.  I do not want my husband or children doing those things either.  So I do things for myself, I teach my children to do things for themselves, and I ask my husband to lend a hand and do things as well.  And we do them as naturally and "low-tech" as possible.  Truly, I always saw myself as sort of a chicken--I opt out and therefore cannot be counted.  I am silent in my dissent.  Salatin suggests, however, that those who opt-out are truly a sort of rebel.  That saying no says a lot, and perhaps more than marching around and saying it out loud for all to hear.  Reading this was kind of profound for me.  Who knew I was a rebel?  Definitely not me.

Icky and Tor is seepin'  :)

So read the magazine, it's worth your time. Don't take too much time, though, it's growing season, and we've got work to do!

Oh, Oh, Oh, Who's that Kid with the Oreo Cookie???

I have no idea why that's stuck in my head.  None.  But don't you find it weird that they "discovered" that Oreo cookies are as addictive as cocaine?  Not sure why they did a study on that, to be honest with you.  That was kind of the most interesting part about it.  Hmmmmm........anyway......

Let's get down to it, shall we?  Things have been hopping here, as always.  First, there are the kids.  We are up to the whole "What are you going to be for Halloween?" thing again.  My son knew pretty much right away.  He is a GIANT fan of Minecraft, and wants to be an enderman, which is this thing:

I have no idea what the heck that's supposed to be.  The entire game looks like bad Atari to me, but he loves it, and has bizarrely learned some interesting things from it (like what an ingot is).  It's a building game, it seems, and he loves Legos, so it just works for him.  So he's easy, as all he needs is black clothing and a box for his head.  Love it!  Done.

My daughter, on the other hand, had a hard time.  She always wants to pick what she thinks others would find "cool", but then she's never happy with it.  She 's been happiest when she's chosen something that she would like to be, just because SHE would like to be it, which is really the point in the first place.  So after a lot of deliberation and flip-flopping back and forth, she has decided to be Sam Sparks from Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. 

 

THAT one I can get behind.  So we're going with it.  I'm proud of her for picking something (someone?) she wanted to be, not what or who she thought others would want her to be.  Good for her!

In other news, a couple of weeks ago that bear came back again and finished the job.  The bees are D-O-N-E.  I had put them back together, gotten stung, put up a number of "bear preventing" measures, and none of it worked.  The bear guy (or girl) came back and tore both hives apart--there's just no coming back for them.  I am very disappointed, but slightly relieved, only because I had become so allergic it was getting dangerous.  I have begun the cleanup and will salvage any wax possible and then sell the equipment piece by piece.  I guess I'm sticking to maple syrup.  I hope that others will have better success than I did and will keep the bee population up, as it has become so endangered in recent years.  It certainly does not seem that I can help out on that front.

Further on the food front, I have harvested quite a bit of peas from my fall planting--in fact, more, I think, than I got from my spring planting.  I set my son at shelling the last batch I harvested (peeling them, he called it), and it took him over an hour to do it--with help from me and my daughter.

 

Pea peeling boy

Though I can see that the vines are getting tired and thinking about being done, I am hoping that we'll get another nice batch beforehand.  I am happiest that I seemed to have discovered the variety that works best for me here.  I'm hoping it will perform as well in the spring, and then I'll have a winner.  I have been trying to choose varieties that perform fantastically here, and then stick with them year after year.  This is a complete opposite from what I normally like to do, which is try a little of everything to see how it goes.  But, I have come to the time where I'd like to be able to have one or two varieties of a crop that produces very well and that we like to eat so that I'll have more food to put by, instead of lots of little "experimental" crops.  Ahh....the evolution of the homesteader. 

On the cheese making front, things are chugging along.  Can I just stop here for a minute and tell you how MUCH I love making cheese?  I have no idea if I'm any good at it at all, since most of what I've made lately still has a month to age before testing, but OH!  I love making cheese. 

Beautiful curds

Oh my goodness.  I just do.  It's like magic, you know?  Big pot of milk becomes beautiful chunk of cheese. 

“Cheese - milk's leap toward immortality.”
―Clifton Paul Fadiman

 

Sage Derby, before the final pressing

Magic!  It's funny, because I do so many things that are so "old", in a way.  I grow food from seed.  I bake bread.  I make soap.  Etc, etc.  Many transformations from one thing to a totally different thing, and many techniques that are old techniques (of course, somewhat revised for today).  But there are very few things that I do that have the ability to transport me back in time the way cheesemaking does.  Working with raw fiber does the same thing for me--sends me right back in time.  Cheesemaking....well, it's just special.

I have decided on a cheese press, I think.  Despite the fact that I really like stacking 50 pounds of bricks up on top of a homemade mold, it's gotten stupid.  Just ask the couple of coffee mug casualties and the flower vase that have bit it since I started with this.  Playing the "when's that going to fall over" game is getting old.  So, though it will have to wait a couple of weeks, I think I have decided to purchase a Dutch cheese press. 

 

Link

This one, I believe.  I really wanted one of those spring ones, because they are more compact.  However, when I really looked into it, I discovered that the tension doesn't stay the same all the time.  As the cheese compresses, the spring relaxes a bit, and then the weight is off and you're not pressing at a consistent pressure.  Therefore, the spring would have to be adjusted fairly often to maintain the correct pressure on the cheese.  I press my cheeses overnight.  I don't want to get up every few hours to turn the pressure up on my cheese.  Dutch presses are apparently a "set it and forget it" kinda deal.  So yes, they are bigger and kinda oddly shaped, but I think it's the way to go.

Speaking of raw fiber (which we weren't), I am going to the Wool and Fiber Festival tomorrow in Rhinebeck!  Squeeeeee!!!!!  A day to myself!  Just me, no kids, no husband.  I will miss them, but I need a day to myself.  I think one a year is fair, no?  Just me and some sheep and hairy goats and lots of stuff to touch and see!  If you remember, I went last year, had a wonderful time talking to myself all day and just looking, and brought home a bunch of rabbits.  This year?  Still planning on the wonderful time, still planning on talking to myself (can't help that one), but no rabbits.  I love my fluffy bunnies, but I have plenty.  This year I am going to look at yarn and spinning wheels and touch everything, and that's how that's going to go.  I will take pictures.  Stay tuned!

And in closing....

Well, I should tell you that the cat population has increased by one this week, and in an odd way.  Here's the story, which is so odd, it could only happen to me, because odd things happen to me all the time.  I was at work on Wednesday, and was heading home during my lunch break to check on things at the house.  I had 1/2 an hour left, and figured I'd just swing by, make a quick check, and then go back to work.  Ha!  As I was going over a bridge, I saw a cat carrier in the shoulder of the road--a busy-ish road, mind you.  The carrier had the word "free" on it on a card.  I thought "Woo hoo!  A carrier!  I should go get that!".  People chuck out stuff all the time.  A lot of it is junk, but sometimes there's something good.  No, I'm not above picking up someone else's junk, especially if it's usable un-junk.  We could use a second carrier, and this one looked nice.  I pulled over where I could and walked back to it. 

As I got closer, I could swear I heard meowing.  I thought that was odd, but as there are some grasses and stuff around there that are tall, and some houses near, it could have been coming from anywhere.  It was hard to tell through the car noises.  However, I got closer, and through the noise of the traffic, I could hear the meowing was coming from inside the carrier.

Yes, friends, someone had put a cat IN the carrier and left it on the side of the road with the word "free" on it.  Oddly enough, behind it, in the tall grass was a litterbox, a scooper, and a single can of cat food.  I know I'm a sucker. But I'm not going to leave a cat to die on the side of the road in a carrier.  It was only a matter of time before someone sideswiped that carrier and killed the little one inside.

I didn't really think and I had no idea what to do next with the cat.  I picked it up, took a look at the little one, and popped him in the back of the car. When I got to a side street, I pulled over and took a look at him (as I discovered, he is a he).  He's young, under a year old, I'd say, and black as pitch.  That is, except for the little white spot on his tummy. His eyes are pumpkin colored.  He is supremely cool, and seemed to realize I was there to help because he curled up in my lap like we'd known each other forever, and purred like a maniac. 

I eventually got him home and set him up in a very nice, spacious crate in the garage barn, so he would feel safe and not have to compete with the other cats.  He's afraid of all the other cats, but follows people around like "Hey!  Where're we going?  I'm coming with you, ok?".  Like he's known us forever.  Because he's black with pumpkin eyes, and it's near Halloween, his name is Ichabod.  We've been calling him Icky.

Time will tell as to whether he'll hang with us, but I'm hoping so.  Dang boy seems to be magical, because though the crate he's in is wire and fairly open, I don't think he can fit through the bars.  However, I'll see him in there, he'll stay in there for a long time, and then I'll turn my back and he'll be out and behind me.  Realizing he can't be "caged", I opened the door for him, but left the crate as a safe haven.  It is not unusual to see him in one place, however, and then look down suddenly and he's right beside me.  He's very sneaky.

And there you go.  Funny enough, I was thinking a couple of months ago that it was too bad we only have one black cat (a big boy named Percival), when I like them so much.  Then Sarahcat gave birth to a second black cat, and now we have Icky.  Very interesting.  Possibly I should muse on the fact that it's funny that I've never won the lottery?

'Till next time!

And It Goes Round and Round and Round

Ah, my friends, how I have missed writing for you.  It has been so insane here as of late, I have not had a chance.  Forgive me.  I appreciate all your comments on my bear "mishap".  I have put together one hive, and partly the green hive (ie: the hive of death), but they hate me and stung me and I'm all blown up like an elephant right now, so I can go no further.  They will be put back together, somehow.  In the meantime, and while all this has gone on, it has become fall.  The wheel of the year has turned again, and here she is.  I love fall.  I love the leaves turning, the nip in the air, the smell of the trees.  Maybe not so much getting up in the pitch black, but it's all a trade. 

Many different things have been happening around here lately.  For one, we finally finished processing the meatbirds on Saturday.  At 9 weeks old, the birds we processed were over 6 pounds, with a very few exceptions.  This made up for the processing we did the week before, where all the birds were just over 4 pounds a piece.  Terrible.  But that extra week we waited gave us some gorgeous, meaty birds who were just beautiful when done.  Our tally?  For 23 birds, we "harvested" 122 pounds of meat.  Not too shabby.

Fatty, fatty fat birds

However (and there's always a however, isn't there?), we had more leg problems with this batch than ever before.  I started this batch with 27 birds.  One was lost to a hawk.  Three were lost to leg issues.  They stopped walking and just wasted away, basically.  Very interesting, as I've never had that happen before.  As in, EVER.  I also noticed that when they were butchered, the birds' livers were not the strong blue-red color I am used to.  They were instead a rusty red color.  I have looked into this, and I have found that it means "nothing".  However, I think it must have a significance, and may somehow be related to the fact that a few of them stopped walking at 7 weeks and just died (or got so bad I had to assist).  I don't know.  But I am concerned that perhaps my "go to" hatchery should not be, or possibly my "go to" birds should be different.  Come spring, when I start again, I am going to do an experiment and have partly the Cornish Cross that I'm fond of (they make a delicious bird, no matter what you've heard), and partly another breed, possibly one of those Freedom Ranger breeds.  I will run them together to see how it goes.  Then we'll see what we see. 

In either case, I am going to be running the birds in a sled, and I'm going to be sure that I have 52 birds to eat, no matter what.  We've become a Sunday chicken family, so 52 weeks=52 chickens.  And fat, big chickens=two meals for the price of one, so that's the goal.  Now that I know it, I'm going for it.  Next year will be the year of experimental year, and getting the system down.  It's all so worth it though, because if on Sunday I can see this:



Wackadoodle children are also homegrown.

I've done my job right.  Yes, that there is a completely home grown/homemade meal-except for the butter, as my son likes to point out.  Meals like this are getting to be a more common occurrence here, and it is always a beautiful sight.   THAT means I'm doing my job.  And that feels really good.

Now, oddly enough, I spent the whole morning/early afternoon taking life, but in the afternoon I got to help bring life in.

I have seen the circle turn in this way many times, but not often this fast.  Yes, this is Saracat--AGAIN.  Saracat was scheduled to be spayed, and disappeared on us.  Disappeared for long enough that I cancelled the appointment.  Generally, if our outdoor cats are gone for over a week, they don't come back.  It's the sad truth of the life of the outdoor cat, unfortunately.  Of course, weeks later, Saracat DID come back, and not alone, either.  By that time, it was too late, and I had to wait for nature to take it's course.  It did, on Saturday.  Saracat brought two littles into the world, one grey and white male, and one black female.  I assisted with the births--Saracat is crappy at giving birth--pushing is not her "thing".  The grey and white came normally, but the black came out backwards.  A black female cat, born backwards, on the eve of the Autumn Solstice, on a day of (pretty much) destruction?  That one stays--and comes inside.  I'm not superstitious, but how many more signs do you need?  I know enough to know that's significant in some way.  I'm waiting for her to pick her name.  I'll let you know when she does.

In other news, I am proud to announce the broody coop works beautifully.  Those girls sure can brood!  In fact, a couple of weeks ago, Louise brooded this:

The happy family

Feisty little thing that it is.  Louise continues to be a blue-ribbon mama, even staying outside in downpours with the little one under her wing because the little bit couldn't get up the ramp to go into the coop.  Louise would be soaked, but that baby would be dry as a bone.  Good girl.

And if you remember that I told you a while back that the backyard rabbits did not work into the flow of the homestead, well, I've remedied it.  I gave away Bunnicula and Robert A Cavataugh to a nice girl who had two females who looked almost exactly like these boys.  That was a good thing.  She was thrilled, and they will be well cared for.  Petunia I sold for a pittance to a man who raises rabbits for meat.  She will not be eaten, but bred for babies (who will be eaten).  Petunia is a beautiful girl, and I'm glad to see her come to some use.  We would not eat the rabbits, so she served no purpose here.  I know she will have a good life.  Busy, maybe, but good. 

The man who came to pick her up was very impressed and very complimentary about the homestead.  We had a lovely conversation, and he kept saying "Wow, you guys are doing it!"  Yes, I guess we are.  I never get to see this place through someone else's eyes, so it's nice to, every once in a while.  Or, I should say, when I get to see this place through someone else's eyes, it's usually to hear "Why would you do that?  It's so much WORK!!"  Yeah, let's just agree to disagree.  But when you get to meet someone who gets it--really gets it--it's a treat.  And it helped me to be a little more proud of what I do here and feel good that maybe, in some small way, I can make a difference.  In fact, it helped me see this place a little differently myself, and maybe that's a good thing.

To wrap it up, I'm going to talk about my favorite animals--the goats!  Shocking, right?  Well, I have not had a lot of time to spend with my babies lately, because of work, but I keep on milking, and Lilly keeps on producing, and so I've graduated to hard cheeses.  Voila!

 

Farmhouse cheddar--possibly.  We'll see.  Anyway, I have jury-rigged a press with some PVC and a whole crapload of bricks, but it's extremely stupid and falls down, which is also stupid.  I'm buying myself a cheese press, folks, watch me.  My intention was to have the goats provide all our milk (check) cheese (almost check-working on it) and butter (not check), so I need the equipment.  It's quite an investment, but I think it's a sound one.

Anyway, concerning the goats....I have been thinking about how to get them to be able to eat more from the land without too much in the way of additional inputs, like hay or grain.  Grain is always going to be a thing, I fear, because if you want milk you need to feed for milk.  Fair enough.  Hay is also a necessity, but it doesn't go as far as it should.  So I have devised a solution of sorts--leaves.  Like this:

The Minerva Family hard at it

The Lilly Family looking for Frosted Mini Wheats---just in case I have any

Dry leaves have many uses on a homestead; as compost, mulch, or to build beds.  However, they can also be used to feed your goats.  Goats LOVE dry leaves, a fact I discovered last year.  So I asked my husband to blow a big pile next to the girls' fence, so they can stick their heads out and eat.  But of course they can't share, so the pile, no matter how big, is not big enough.  Plus, the boys don't get a pile, as they are located in a yard behind the girls' yard.  So I did this in both yards:

 

 

Classy, elegant, timeless. That, friends, is a couple of recycled feed bags with a half circle cut out of them, hung from a fence and stuffed with leaves.  Goat sticks head in half circle, goat eats leaves.  That's the idea.  The truth?  One goat sticks head into half circle and eats leaves, another goat sticks head in TOP of bag while standing on the fence (or the other goat) and eats leaves.  Then goats fight over said bag, while mondo PILE of leaves on the other side of the gate sits forgotten.  That's what really happens--don't let anyone tell you otherwise. 

I can't take credit for the bag idea--I saw it at the fair, made out of old pillowcases, which the owners had stuffed with hay for their goats and sheep.  But I don't have pillowcases, and in any case did not want them outside to get icky, so I used feedbags.  The goats LOVE it.  If you have goats, trees, and old feedbags, I would recommend this.  Try it.  Your goats will love you for it.  And you'll go through far less hay, promise.

I loves dry leaves!!  If only Minerva the Mean would let me have some...

And that, as they say, is that.  I leave you with this picture of a rose called Koko Loko.  Stupid name, pretty flower.  I hope you all have a great night!