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!

Problem Solving-- Part 1

Problems.  Everyone's got them.  I'm not talking personal problems here, but problems with your house and land.  No matter where you live or what you live in, there's going to be something you don't like or need to fix about the place you're in.  When you homestead, you probably have more problems than the average person, and weirder ones, just because it's not just you and your family living on your land, it's you, your family, your chickens, sheep, rabbits, goats, horses, ducks, etc.  Some problems I like when it comes to homesteading.  They're like puzzles that have to be solved.  How do we make this work better?  How do we fix this?  How does this relate to that?  Those are things I can really sink my teeth into.

The latest problem I had to solve had to do with the fiber rabbits.  My hairy little bunnies were living in individual cages in the garage.  It was no problem during the winter and the fall.  Even into the spring, the temps were low, the garage didn't get hot, and my wool covered friends were doing fine.  But then summer hit--really hit--and the garage was no longer a place  anyone should be living in, lest they get cooked.  So the rabbits had to move out.

But what to do with them?  Yes, they all had cages, but I can't just leave cages all over the property.  And building individual hutches was not only a waste of all the nice cages they already had, but really expensive.  Plus, can you imagine 7 little hutches all lined up?  I didn't even know where to put them.

Yeah, no.  No hutches.  So I then considered building a half a house for the cages, and putting them up on shelving.  But that's another building.  And I hate building.  And there are a lot of buildings here already (12!).  So that wasn't a happy idea, but it was the best I had.

Fast forward a few weeks and I've been mulling this problem over and over in my head.  What to do with my homeless rabbits?   If I build ANOTHER building, where does it go?  How much is it going to cost?  Then one night my husband and I were sitting outside in the evening and it hits me--I'm going to put them in the chicken run.  Why?  Because I read The Small Scale Poultry Flock by Harvey Ussery last year, and I think he said that he keeps his rabbits in with his chickens.  hmmm...It was either him or Joel Salatin.  Maybe both.  I don't want to give the wrong person credit, so how about this?  Someone once said that keeping rabbits and chickens together works, and I didn't want to build anything else, so I used what I had, and now the rabbits live with the chickens in their run.

And it does, in fact, work.

Take a look.

The original plan was to build shelving all around the run in the part that is 8 feet tall.  When I started it, though, I realized I could build up instead of around, and it would save space, and I wouldn't whack my head as much.  So the rabbits who are in the cages with bottoms are on top.  The rabbits without bottoms on their cages are on the bottom.  My husband, who is brilliant, liked the idea of the shelves in the run, and suggested closet wire shelving for the cages.  You know why?  Because when the rabbits poop, it goes right on through.  And you know who really likes that?  The chickens.  And me.  Because now I have fewer trays to dump and scrub out. 

Pickle and Collette share a cage.  When I tried to separate them, they both looked lost.  If ever I need to move someone out, I have room on the other shelf.

I do rely on the rabbit manure for my gardens.  It's like rocket fuel for the plants.  When I need a shot of rabbit poo, I can put the bottom trays back and collect.  When I don't need it, I don't have to collect it, and I have less cleaning.  I think it will work well.

The only issue I have with this is that there is no ceiling on the run.  Therefore, I have to construct a sunshade/rain shade for the cages.  I'm thinking a tarp of some kind will work.  I will also need to make protection for them for the winter, or I'll have to put them back in the garage.  I'll figure it out as I go, I think. 

The chickens like the "stuff" the rabbits give them, and can still access the run behind them--there is an opening under that shelf that leads to a really nice run in back.

Problem solved!  I'm happy with it, and I am hoping it's going to work out well.  This was a tough problem--one I've mulled over for months.  It's nice to have it off my plate.  Next up?  I've got two that I can see.  One:  the problem with rain collection and the runoff from it and two:  the pond has dried up and isn't coming back.  What to do?

I guess we'll have to wait and see.  Stay tuned!!

Sunday Snapshots

Well, three of the kittens are gone, and half of my chickens are sold, and three more ducks have disappeared.  It's been a rough week.  I'd lie if I didn't say that when the people came to adopt the last two kittens I had tears in my eyes.  It's all for the best, though.  And the selling of my chickens has been especially hard, but it was the right thing to do.  As to the ducks?  I have no idea where they went.  They disappeared during the day again.  Truth be told, I'd been thinking about parting with them anyway, as they're fairly useless, won't go in easily at night, and the Muscovies have proven their worth about 8 million times in the short time they've been here.  They've been eating flies like candy, they hardly eat much in the way of feed, and they're always in their house by 7:30 pm.  I could set my watch by them.  Why did I wait so long??

Olive is still here.  I'd like to be upset about that, but I just can't.  No one wants to buy a quality animal right now.  I hear it from many, many people.  Sell them cheap (like Oscar), and off they go.  Sell them for a fair price (not high--she's got no papers), and they sit and sit.  It's not just me--all the ads that were on Craigslist from before I put Olive on are still there, too.  The cheap ones are gone, but that's it.  I'm not too troubled about it.  When the right person comes along, then it'll be fine.  Until then, I'm enjoying the heck out of that little jumping bean.  She and Amelia are now playing with Tallulah, who stays because she's Lilly's baby.  Lilly is an AMAZING milker.  She sucks at standing still, though.  Some days she tap dances way too much and she's put her foot in the milk bucket on more than one occasion, which thrills the chickens (who get to have the milk), but not me. 

Between Lilly and Minerva, we're getting about a gallon a day.  No, it's not dairy standards, but I'm not a dairy.  It's a good amount for us, though I realize that two goats in milk is not enough to produce cheese and other things and still have a ridiculous amount of milk in the fridge for my son -the bottomless milk pit -to drink.  Minerva is still making a minimal amount of milk, maybe a quart a day, but something is something, and I love her so who cares.  Min's got the routine down pat.  She's usually a pleasure to milk (some days, not so much, though.  Tap dancing....you know what I mean??) and I just love that she knows what she's doing.  We're besties. 

Anyway, I have discovered Tallulah is nursing off of Lilly, so she's not a bottle baby like the other two bananas, and therefore is coming around more slowly.  We're making inroads, though.  She's 10 days old and has finally started to come and see what I'm doing.  I still can't catch her to snuggle her easily, but progress is progress.  I'll take it.

In the midst of all the animal craziness (and there's more, oh boy, there's more), I pulled out my back, and so spent the morning puttering in the gardens, which always cheers me up.  I took some pictures, and I thought I'd share.  Ready?

Squash Jungle

 

Bean Beds 

 

 Carrot Forest

I've already pulled out a pound of carrots from here, just in "thinnings".  I'm excited to see how many pounds are in here all together.

 

Small Tomatoes

 

The back garden's tomatoes are developmentally behind the front garden's tomatoes.  I think that lasagna gardening is a miracle.  Though I have been steadily improving the soil in the back garden, the fact is that it's still crappy clay (though enriched crappy clay), and though the plants are growing better than they have in past years, it's still a struggle.  In the front, since I lasagna'd, they don't have the same struggle.  The plants are HUGE.

 

See?  Those two posts that stick up there from the tomatoes are 9 feet tall.  Just for some scale for you.  The tomatoes are nearly as tall as I am.   

So yes, lasagna gardening does work.  Thank you for asking.  :)

Broccoli-Broccoloo-Broccolalala

Front tomatoes

 

Tomato Insanity

Corn

Forget knee high by the fourth of July.  The corn was waist high.  Now it's chest high.  I just read a book about permaculture where the author said that it was sad that all we look for is knee high by early July, when if our soils were as fertile as they could potentially be, we should expect so much more.  It was an interesting thought. 

 

Pumpkin Attack!

 

Trying to Eat the Broccoli

I think the two colors of the leaves are pretty, don't you?

 

My son's "School Cabbage". 

(Don't ask)

The Smallest Bed of Cucumbers.

I just thought it looked so pretty.

And in other areas...

The Berry Patch

These are supposed to be Anne, a yellow raspberry.  However, they're turning red as they ripen. Something's rotten in the state of Denmark, methinks....

 

 Blackberries

 

 Red Raspberries

These are ginormous this year.  I think it's because during the fall last year, I mulched them with about a foot of dry leaves.  The raspberries are as big as my thumb, no exaggeration.  So, if you have raspberries, mulch them with a foot of dry leaves.  It seems to work.

Pretty Flowers

A giant pumpkin blossom

 

 Pretty Morning Glories

Rose Scented Bergamot

 Why yes, I do grow bee balm and flowers in my vegetable garden, thank you for asking!  The bees and bugs just love it.

And I don't want to leave you without a gratuitous animal picture of cuteness, so here they are, freshly shorn, so they look crazy, but all the cooler for it, I think.

Pickle

 

 Colette

Or, rather the back of Colette's head.  Those pom-pom ears crack me up!!!!

 

Have a great day!

Not Always the Way you Think

Well....I've been wrong before.

I said that all the little bunnies were going to live.  All 10 of them.  Because, Camille, who is a crappy mama, was going to be watched very carefully and live in the house.

It didn't matter.  And it seems to have not been Camille's fault, directly.  Oddly/interestingly/sadly enough, the babies have just been up and dying.  We are down to two.

I think by tomorrow, we'll be down to one, if any.

Having watched 8 babies die, I have come to the conclusion that there is some sort of genetic mishmash going wonky here.  They were fine for the first 3 days.  Then on the fourth day (Friday), we started to lose them by the bucketload--four in one day.  At first we suspected Camille was stepping on them, but Camille was removed and they died anyway.  Yesterday, we lost one more and I got to see what happened to the little one as he/she went.  First they get very skinny, which seems to happen despite being fed.  Then they get cold.  Usually they crawl away from the pack.  Then they stiffen up to the point of being frozen.  Their mouths open, and then their muscles relax, but then they gasp for breath until they die.

It's truly horrible. 

This morning, three more are gone, leaving the two above to remain.  The one on the right in the picture is showing signs of the "disorder".  He/she is getting thinner already, though he still ate and peed like a champ this morning.  All the bunnies, up to the point of dying, have been perfectly normal in all respects.  Then they thin out, get cold, and so on and so on.  It has been truly heartbreaking to watch.

Though I guess it leaves an interesting question behind.  Camille is a red Satin Angora.  Buckley is an Opal English Angora.  What is it about the two of them that should not be bred?  I can't say that I have completely ruled out environmental factors, but it seems that the combo of the two parents are what is causing these babies to die.  I'm wondering if it's linked to hair color, or the breeds together, or if one parent has something that got passed on, or if they both are heterozygous for something that, when put together, equals dead babies.

I don't know, and I'm going to look into it as much as I can.  If I get any answers, I'll let you know.  In the meantime, think good thoughts for these littles.  They're all that is left!

Uno...Dos...Tres...

...cuatro...cinco...

Oh, fuggetit.  This is going to get ridiculous.  See?

Introducing Camille's decuplets!

She outdid herself. 

Nine the first time she gave birth, ten this time.

But this time, they're going to live.

Because I brought them inside for the birth.

Actually, I have a little sense of personal pride here--I made the right call at the right time and did the right thing.  I have a lot of medications in my little cabinet o' tricks, but in truth, I'd rather let nature take its course, unless dealing with an illness or injury.  Camille birthed one baby this morning.  I found it by accident, while giving the rabbits their hay.  It was off in a corner of her cage, grunting and nosing for mama, who was in the opposite corner, cringing.

Camille is a crappy, crappy mother. 

The baby was dry, and I have no idea how long it was out.  It was not cold, thankfully, but it was obviously as confused as I was about how it got there and when.  And Camille?  Well, she was looking at me like holycrap and stayaway, which are both the very Camille-ish communications that I get from her on a regular basis.  But one baby?  Nah.  Not Camille.  Camille gave me nine last time, there's no way there was just one little, wrinkly baby in there. 

A quick search around the cage yielded no more babies, and mind you, there was no nest.  So possibly this one was a surprise?  She was due today, so not really likely.  But where were the others?  Did she eat them?  Hmmm....

I had no answers.  I quick grabbed the grunting baby and brought it inside to warm up in a box, and then quick went out, grabbed a cage with a plastic bottom, filled it with hay, and then filled it with the complaining Camille.  As I did, I palpitated.  And felt heads and feet and a whole buncha body parts.  Obviously, she was not done.  I put her in the dark bathroom to rest and hopefully pop out the others that were waiting.

Nothing. 

 

Nada.

 

All day long. 

She was not in distress.  She was not even concerned.  But there were no babies, which is odd.  I palpitated again.  Heads, legs, little body parts.  They were still wiggling, which I took to be a good sign.  But Camille was uninspired to give birth to the rest.  Maybe she felt like she was done.  Maybe she'd reconsidered and decided that UN-birthed babies were far easier to take care of than birthed babies.  I dunno.  The day passed, and I began to be concerned.  Did she think she'd just put it off?  Not gonna happen--not on my watch.  After dinner, I went in to really take a look at Camille, which is something she really doesn't like.  I determined (as best I could) that she was open and dilated, just not making progress, and not really caring about it either way.  But the babies had stilled, and that made me worry.  So I grabbed the Oxytocin.

One quick shot.  A tiny shot--all of .3ccs.  That was it.  Right in her ample behind.  I was nervous as hell.  Oxytocin is not stuff to play with, it's serious stuff for serious business.  Did I just kill Camille?  Nothing happened for a minute.  Two minutes.  My daughter, who was waiting with me, asked "Is it going to do anything?"

But I knew it would be fast, so we waited a minute more.  And Camille, who was just laying there looking like she would rather be anywhere else, sat up and grunted.  And I said to my daughter "Here she goes."

And so she did.

In rapid succession, nine more little slippery, wrinkled babies proceeded to come out and make an appearance.    One after another after another after another.  They slid out, and mama went to work washing and cleaning them.  And under her they went to get a drink at the fountain.  And me?  I took pictures and then realized that in all the commotion I could probably just sneak that little one from this morning on under there and he/she'd get all slimy with the rest of them and Camille would never know.

And she didn't. 

All 10 babies were under there getting a drink and a licking and mama (and I) have no idea which one was from this morning and which ones were not.  Hallelujah.  I put some saved fur on top of them and walked away.

But Camille?  She's still a crappy, crappy mother.  As I wrote this, I checked on her, and she was sitting right on top of her baby pile.  Happy as a pig, smothering those little babies to death.  Yeah.  She stinks.

I put them in a box in the cage, safely out of her reach, but they'll all be staying in the house for a while.  This will be an adventure.  I see forced feedings in the future, and possibly bottle bunnies as well.  UGH.  Guess I can't ask for too much, right?  I'll keep you posted!