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!

Love is Hard

On Saturday morning, I found my Ginger dead.

She'd been acting strange (er) for the last few days, and I knew something was up.  But being a goose, she wasn't talking. 

I miss my girl.  She survived a horrible dog attack years ago, but never was quite the same afterwards.  She hatched out two duck babies to keep her company last year, and I'm proud to say that they always slept with her, because she would badger them until they did.  She was a funny one.

I will miss her complaining honk.

I will miss her insistent push into the garage for food, even though she wasn't allowed to do so.

I will miss her hiding her head in my shirt.

I will miss her scolding.

I will miss seeing her yell at the pool.

I will miss the way she would be hell-bent to set on eggs wherever she wanted, even if that place wasn't the safest.

She was unique, and a little light has gone out of the world with her passing.

Rest in peace, pretty girl.

4+2=6

Maybelle is a mama who will go down in infamy, at least in my book.

You might remember Maybelle was sitting on 4 duck eggs and 1 goose egg.  I had no idea when she actually sat, but my guess was March 24th-ish, putting her "due date" around here sometime.  Well, on Saturday, after I came back from picking up Dulci, my son tells me he thinks he saw a little baby in with Maybelle in her house.  Of course, I had to check it out, and lo and behold, there was!  But it wasn't a duck.  It was this little one:

Was kind of hoping it would be a little Maybelle, but it seems it might be a little Arthur, instead.  OY!!

The one goose egg.  Of course!  It would be the one I was sort of hoping wouldn't hatch.  I got a look at baby and mama, and she seemed to be doing alright.  The baby was hiding under her wing, as goslings do, and Maybelle was completely over-reacting to my presence, the way new mamas do, so I left her alone.

The next night I went to check and see if there were any more developments, and I found Charles in the house with her, harassing her.  She was very agitated, and had crushed two of her eggs.  One I could not save.  The other was peeping and wiggling, so I brought it in, away from the insanity, to hatch.  I also removed Charles and shut the door on Maybelle to give her some peace.  The little one hatched, and it was this little one:

Mutt duck:  Khaki Campbell/Welsh Harlequin cross. 
A Khaki Harlequin?  A Welsh Campbell?

I kept the baby inside for the night, under a heat lamp.  The next day (yesterday), I brought it out, and put it with mama and checked the other eggs.  She accepted the baby, and the other eggs were not hatching, so I gave mama some food and water, locked the door so she could have some peace, and left her alone. 

All seemed fine until I went to check on her last night.  Turned out that the two eggs hatched during the day, and for some reason I cannot understand, Maybelle killed her babies.  When I got to them, they were both crushed.  How heartbreaking.  Needless to say, I was very upset at how senseless it all was.  I removed the last duckling from under her (the one that hatched previously), and put it with the four that are in the brooder currently.  I left her the gosling.  She'd had it since Saturday, and it had a tendency to sleep in her wing or on her back, so I didn't feel that it would be crushed.  Possibly she just did not understand that ducklings do not do that and misjudged.  I don't know.  I didn't want to risk any more lives, so I left her with her "own kind".

Fast forward to this morning, when I get up to do the morning feedings, and found the gosling wandering around out in the goose yard, being attacked by every goose out there.  Where was mama?  Inside her house (which was open, by the way), not a care in the world.

Motherly instinct, my eye.  I tried to give the baby back, but she went starkers.  I took the baby inside to be in the brooder with the other five ducks.  The little one settled right in.

As always, the gosling's the one with the big mouth!

Now there are 6 inside the large brooder, and Maybelle is out with the gaggle like she hasn't a care in the world.  Fantastic. 

Compare that, if you will, to Ginger.  She's a pariah with the gaggle, and she only hatched ducks, but she is so vigilant and careful with them, it's not even funny.

"I keep telling you!  Stay AWAY from my children!!!"

"We are SOOOOOOO outta here!"

She walks around all day long with the two little ones circling her feet like she's a planet and they're her moons.  She never steps on them and she takes them everywhere she goes.  She's even figured out that they should sleep in her house with her at night, instead of in the bushes (yeay!).  She's a good mama.

Maybelle, not so much.  I played the shouldawouldacoulda game all last night, while I beat myself up for not doing something sooner.  Or seeing this happening.  But how could I have?  It was a tough lesson to learn though, and it cost two lives to learn it.  I don't ever relish adding to our cemetery, and it seems I've been adding to it too much lately.  This one was a tough one, I'll tell you that. 

This life has so much joy, and so much sadness, doesn't it?  This is one of those "mixed blessings" kind of times, and it's hard to know whether to laugh or cry.  Hell, maybe I'll do both.

Be happy, friends,

One Week Later

Baby update!

Let's start with the feathered first, and end with the furred.  On the feathered front, the little ducklings are doing just fine.

They are spending as many days as possible out in the "tractor" in the sun.  They are getting big.  I put them out with the class chicks, whose rear ends you can see here:

And here's the other one:

They are also getting big. 

Celebrating their one week birthday this week are these two little ones:

Can you see them under Ginger's crippled wing?  Ginger finally switched from sitting mode to mommy mode on Sunday and started to walk around with them.  They walk right beneath her feet, which is funny to see-especially because she never seems to step on them.  There have been some problems with these guys, mostly because Ginger is such an outcast amongst her own tribe, as it were.  She's not allowed near them, so she doesn't have access to the pond like they do.  That's meant a lot of special care on my part, which is tiring.  I've had to find where she is and feed them, because now she's not allowed to eat with the gaggle.  Luckily, Ginger is smart, and remembered that she can come get me at the front door, if she needs me.  Yesterday I found her "knocking" at the front door, babies in tow.  I realized she needed food and water, so I served her on the porch.  Since that worked, she did the same thing this morning.  So now maybe we have a system.  We'll see.

Now for the furred.  Let's start with the littlest, the kittens.

The little stripey blobs have been moved behind my husband's dresser, by Ellie.  I think she didn't want us touching them anymore.  See this face?

Look at those little fatties!  They are huge next to Ellie (who is small, granted)!

It clearly says, "Leave my babies alone, sucker!!".  Usually she's yelling at me when I stick my head back there, I just didn't catch it that time. 

Anyway, her babies are getting big and fat and walk like little walruses, and they yell when you pick them up. 

(There's no nice way to hold them, because they squirm, so it looks like I'm squishing him here, but I'm not.)

That's better, see?  He was quiet for all of 2 seconds. 

The boys are much more vocal than the girl, but they are all sweet.  One more week and their eyes should be open and hopefully they won't yell as much when they're handled.  I only can assume that they yell now because they're being moved and can't see what's going on.  That's got to be disconcerting.

Sigh.

And now onto the BIG furry babies:

Ah, my girls.  I just LOVE them.  They are sweet and funny and frisky and gentle all at the same time.  They are always happy to see me and I get lots of goaty hugs. 

With these girls here, the place feels complete.  Happiness. 

We've gotten our routine down-ish.  They are currently sleeping in a nice pen in the garage-barn, so every morning, I bribe them with a little grain to get them to go into their outdoor yard, where they spend the day, browsing and possibly eating hay (which they would rather not have, it seems, as they seem to prefer dry leaves or weeds or even sticks).  They get grain for dinner when everyone gets fed, and then after we've had dinner (the people, I mean), they get to free-browse while I watch them until my husband comes home.  They love that.  And they love him, too.  They run right up to him and chew his shirt and give him goaty hugs.  What open-hearted little creatures these two are!  It's really something.

Anyway, I have some more to tell you on the goat front, but it'll have to wait until Sunday, methinks. Until then! 

MamaPalooza, or Spring is Busting Out All Over!

Ok, so you already know about the three different brooders full of 4 different ages of chicks.  But I didn't tell you that on top of that, there are ducklings shortly arriving.  I had ordered them back in January, and they ship on April 9th.  I may need that box built after all?  In addition to that, how about this for why my hands are full? 

I have not one,

Ginger, who looks like she's resting but was actually yelling at me from underneath her wing

but two, TWO broody geese setting on clutches,

Maybelle, who doesn't yell, but hisses and then hides her face

One broody hen who cannot be convinced to give it up,

Broody Black Copper Maran hen who desperately wants a family

and a pregnant cat, who is about ready to pop!

Way more pregnant than this Ellie, who is due next week

Holy moly!  It's spring, all right.  And we are just multiplying like crazy here. 

Ginger:  As you might remember, she sat down on the 16th.  She had 7 goose eggs under her (all hers), which would not be fertile, as she's never mated anymore, due to her injury.  I removed all of her eggs and put 4 duck eggs under her.  They've since been candled and 3 out of the 4 were coming along well.  She continues to set.  She's currently on week two of her broody period.  She has since laid one more egg that is under her, which I will remove for the same reason as above, but I have to get near the nest to do so.  She hasn't been easy to cope with this time around.  She's been VERY protective, and I have the beak marks to prove it.

Maybelle:  I have no idea when she sat down in earnest.  I noticed she wasn't out as much last week, but I don't know what day.  When I went to look for her finally, I found her crammed on a hole she had dug in the goose house (smart).  Her nest was formed and FULL of down, which means she was serious.  As she didn't give me a hard time like Ginger, I was able to reach under her and see what she had.  She was setting on 9 goose eggs-a combination of hers and Arthur's girls'.

Doing their best ladle impressions

I candled the eggs, and almost all of them were fertile, or some were too new for anything to be seen.  Oh hell, I don't need 9 more geese, so I disposed of them.  I put a few duck eggs under her too, but didn't write down when.  Did I feel guilty throwing the eggs out?  Yep, but I'd feel worse with 15 geese running around, that's for damn sure.  Maybelle has hardly gotten up, which is why the food and water bowls are next to her.  I don't want her starving to death to be a mama.  I have no idea how long she has to go. 

Broody Hen:  Last week, this hen was setting in a box at beak-check time at night.  When I stooped down to see if she was ok, she growled at me.  I laughed, reached under her, and took whatever it was she was sitting on.  None of the eggs were hers.  I figured if she wasn't serious, this ought to break her of it.  Next night, same thing.  Next night, well, you know.  Same thing for a good week, each time she was setting in the nest at beak-check, each time on whatever egg was laid there, and sometimes on no egg at all.  Each time she growled and fluffed.  I finally noticed (duh) that she'd pulled her feathers out of her breast, so she meant business.   Being tired of having her warm up any egg that happened to appear there in her quest to be a mama, I put an egg under her.  She's setting on Hoppy's last egg.  Let's see what she makes of it. 

Ellie:  Ah, Ellie.  Ellie has been a complete mush lately, more so than normal.  Ellie has been tired, and I can't blame her.  Ellie is almost more horizontal than she is vertical.  Ellie's babies kick when you put your hand on her tummy.  Last night as she sat next to me it looked like they were running relay races, for goodness sake.  Ellie has been (to my mind) looking for a nice place to, as my son says, lay her babies.  Ellie (I think) is due next week.  Ellie could be due tomorrow, for all I know.  I am definitely keeping an eye on Ellie.

We are busting at the seams right now, so I've had to create a place to keep track of this stuff.  Behold, the baby tracking center!

Thank goodness for old plywood and chalkboard paint, printable calendars and old Sprite bottles, or this would never have happened.  The calendar keeps track of the week everyone is on.  The chalkboard is for the at-a-glance stuff and reminders, because I'm lazy.  The board's not even full yet, because I haven't written down Ginger or Maybelle's info.  Or Ellie's, though she tends to stay more forward in my mind.  And somehow, in the midst of all of this excitement, I've got to get the seedlings ready and the garden started. 

All I can say is, if I've gone insane before this is over, now you know why.  The paperwork ALONE is enough to keel me over!  Jiminy!

Mommy Potential

It's happening again.  Ginger is broody.  The one thing I will say about the girl is that she picks interesting places to nest.  Last year, she picked here.  This year, she picked the front of the house, right under our bedroom windows. 

I think she's trying to tell us something.  Could it be "go away?"  She's so hard to read sometimes....

It's actually a pretty good spot, all things considered, because even though it's not in the damn nest boxes in the waterfowl yard that she's supposed to use, it's at least where I can hear if there's a problem with a predator.

She did her normal Ginger thing just like last year.  Lay and egg here, lay and egg there, made beautiful nests that got ruined, until finally she happen upon a spot where no one bothered her and then she layed and layed and layed.  Then she pulled out her feathers and down, made a beautiful nest and sat.  Unfortunately, there's not a single one of her eggs under her.  Every time she layed, I took her egg and replaced it with something.  First, a wiffle ball (that's all I had), then to a bunch of leftover large Easter eggs.  Why?  Well, poor Ginger, because of the wing injury that she sustained, she's disfigured in the gaggle's eyes and no one will mate her.   None of her eggs would be fertile, and she'd just be sitting for no reason again.  I figured if she wasn't serious, then a wiffle ball and some Easter eggs would be none the worse for wear.  But she is serious, so I added 4 duck eggs to her nest.  The ducks are mating like crazy, so that should go better for her (I hope).  And anyway, I don't need anymore geese.

She started setting on the 16th, a full month earlier than last year.  She's since ejected every Easter egg except for the yellow one and the green one--I guess she likes the colors?  She's setting on 4 duck eggs, 2 Easter eggs, and of course, a wiffle ball (which, by the way, she's never seemed to question).  Time will tell what happens here.  When she gets up this weekend, I will candle the four eggs and see.  I'm crossing my fingers again this time, just because I'd love to see what kind of mama she is.  She seems to want it so badly, and I want it for her.  Send her some good thoughts, will you please?

On the mama to be list as well is this little trollop:

It's totally our fault, even though she has loose morals.  We kept meaning to have her spayed, but every time we got the money together, it wound up needing to go somewhere else.  And so Ellie's in a "family way".  She may not look it here, but she's round.  My guess (and it's totally a guess, as I did not witness the actual event) is that she's due around Easter.  That's about 6 weeks from the time I noticed her pinking up.  According to everywhere I looked, that happens 3 weeks into it, so she'd have 6 weeks left to go. 
I'd like to say I'm sorry that it happened and I feel terrible, but I don't.  Ellie is an AMAZING mouser.  She can catch them damn near in mid air, and she's still mousing even in her condition.  We have had no mice in the house this winter, and I find carcasses almost every day.  She puts her brother Dave to shame.  He's such a slacker and would rather sleep with the Meatballs than catch mice.  So if she can produce another mouser with as much talent as she has, I am a very happy farmer.  However, she WILL be spayed after this.  We don't need 8 million cats, mousers or no.
That's about it on the mommy front.  I thought I had a broody hen the other night, because she was in a nest box when everyone else was perched and she growled at me when I went to check what she was sitting on, but it turned out to be a false alarm.  She gave up the next morning, and I threw her eggs away.

Ah Spring.  It's definitely here.  Enjoy it, everyone!  It's gonna be beautiful.

Turned Out Not So Cut and Dry

Hello everyone!  Thank you for your well-wishes.  I still feel pretty bad and horribly weak, but I am able to keep most things down, which is nice.  And standing up isn't so terrible anymore, so that's a bonus.
Remember Ferdi?  Well, in an effort to keep everyone as up to date as possible and myself as honest as possible, I'd thought I'd fill you in.  After an initial "honeymoon" period where he was doing what the new owner wanted him to do and being defensive and shrieky and making her very happy, Ferdi's "bat-shit crazy" button clicked back on and he went insane again.

Borrowed this from here

Apparently, he decided that the new owner was his mate.  Not another goose, not even another gander, as he seemed to prefer here at Chicken Scratch.  NO, his new owner.  He would sit at her knee and put his beak on her leg and look adoringly at her.  Then he would fly into an insane rage and attack anything and everything that came near her.  Dogs, geese, chickens, people.  Ev-er--y-one.

Needless to say, he didn't work out.  And though I thought I'd be having to take him back, the nice lady who took him re-homed him and he's off to try again.  I believe some animals just have something wrong with them, you know?  The ordeal has definitely made me think long and hard about what I would do if Ferdi were to come home, and I really believe that Ferdi would have just become dinner.  I don't think I could have "fixed" Ferdi, and I don't think I would have tried.  And I don't think I would have "put up with him" either. 

So I can see I've changed.  It's interesting.  I still have to put my "money where my mouth is" so to speak with Peter and one of Arthur's girls, who's too aggressive for my tastes as well.  So we'll see if I can do what I think I can do.  But I bet you I can.  Yep, it seems I've turned a corner.

Be well everyone!  When I'm feeling better, I will post all about the presentation I gave to the fourth graders and how I turned all of them into future farmers (kidding). 

Nice to Have a Happy Ending

Though Ferdi's gone, I haven't really reflected on his absence.  I've been more interested in seeing how the gaggle is without him (slightly adrift, but they're getting there).  However, it was really nice to get this email this morning.  It made my day.

He's the new dictator of my geese. Where he goes they follow

 My geese know when I shake food and call them

where to go but --- he doesnt -- they are going everywhere following him and he's got no clue where bed is. Too cute. He figured it out. Everyone is safe and sound.

Sounds exactly like the Ferdi I know.  A match made in heaven!

Ferdi Finds a New Home

Goodbye, Ferd!

Ferdi has moved out.

He now lives 40 minutes away, at a farm where he is wanted for his shrieking and aggressive tendencies.  I think he will be very happy, as he's joining another gaggle and will have plenty of room to run and can scream as much as he likes.  In fact, the woman who took him wanted him for that very fact--she needed a shrieker.  So I think he will be just fine there.

Ferdi had become too much for our little farm over the past year.  He latched onto Benjamin, the Pilgrim gander with a ferocity that was something to behold.  He totally ignored Ginger, who was his mate.  He became aggressive when challenged, and way too noisy for my taste.  He just no longer fit in.  I am glad that this is the way it went with him, though.  My only other option was to serve him for dinner, and I would have regretted that.  He was one of the first goose pair I ever owned and I will always love him for that--he taught me so much.  I am happy that he will be able to continue and be encouraged to do what he loves best-yelling at the top of his lungs and lunging at people.  Good for him.

Ferdi in the carrier, which is too small for him now.  Can you see him cursing at me?  He is.

Am I sad?  No.  Surprisingly, no.  I think it's a mark of a good farmer when you can recognize that an animal is not working for you and can let go of it, no matter which way that is.  It took me quite a while to get here, and that's the truth.  I remember I used to read in horror about people who selectively keep the animals they raise for the good of the breed--if you weren't up to snuff, you were outta here.  And though I admit I'm not up to that stage yet, I can see it on the horizon for me.  These animals are no longer pets, they're working partners.  You don't work, you get fired, end of story.  It's too expensive to feed a slacker.  And my time is way too valuable to spend trying to make a square peg fit a round hole. 

So Ferdi's story ends at Chicken Scratch, but begins somewhere else.  I hope that he will serve as a wonderful look out and have many happy years screaming bloody blue murder.

What did I get in return, you ask?  We didn't go the money route, if you're at all curious.  We bartered.  I gave her Ferdi and she gave me these:

 Two little Welsummer chicks.  Wellies have become one of my favorite breeds, so I was thrilled to have them.   Ferdi's worth more than two Welsummer chicks, and I know it, but with the two in the incubator nearly ready, the 36 more that are going in right after, and not to mention my yearly order of chicks coming in in May, I have plenty.  Plenty of plenty.  These two little 'uns will be good companions to the two hatching on Monday.  And that's good enough for me. 

Eggstreme!

Either a small dinosaur has been through our property, or an emu has.  Or Ginger's up to her old spring thang again.  And early.  Last year, she didn't start nesting until mid-April.  I think that speaks a lot to what type of year we're having.  And possibly it portents an early spring?  It certainly has seemed to be coming early here, with the weather being so mild.
Does Ginger know something we don't?  Probably.  Only time will tell. 

She's picked the bushes again, like last year.  She made a beautiful nest out of dead leaves and some mulch.  I did take the egg, though, and I will take all her eggs, because none of them will be fertile.  Unfortunately, since Ginger's run in with the dog that left her wing down permanently, she's an outcast with the gaggle and no male will touch her.  Poor baby.  Plus, with her injury, she no longer has a mate.  Ferdi, instead of being with her, has decided that Benjamin is the love of his life.  Lovely for Ferdi, but Benjamin isn't doing his duty, if you know what I mean.  Ferdi's going to have to go, I think.  He's gotten hyper aggressive and possessive.  I'll try to find him a good home, if I can.

Sigh.  This is farming, isn't it?

Anyway, I have this beautiful egg.  It's a 7 ouncer, which is giant, compared to chicken eggs.  I think I might blow it out, it's so beautiful.  What a gift, huh?