Ruffled Feathers and Spilled Milk

Farming with ducks and dairy goats, chickens and children.

River Rising

Posted on | June 30, 2011 | 3 Comments

Right after the state officially declared us in a drought, we received a whopping 3 inches of rain overnight.  The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed, and all that beautiful rain rushed into the creeks and rivers, carrying 1/3 of our raised vegetable beds with it.  Leaving primarily only the unweeded parts of the rows behind.  Say what you want about weeds, but they’ve got soil erosion nipped in the bud.

But if we didn’t want the zucchini to get entirely smothered…

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Farm Visit

Posted on | June 28, 2011 | 2 Comments

The best thing about being a farmer is having friends that are farmers, too.  Because every farm is different.  So just when it becomes unbearably boring to stroll through your barnyard or wander through your garden,  you can head off to your friend’s place.

Where the goat kids come with floppy ears and legs long enough to let them nibble your chin…

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The Summer Solstice.

Posted on | June 27, 2011 | 4 Comments

You won’t look back and laugh at everything.  Which is why you haven’t heard about how we lost Applejacks and Ray-Ray last summer.  There wasn’t anything funny about how we found Applejacks lying still in the woods.  Or how we held Ray-Ray through the night and hoped that at least he would survive the colic that had struck them both down.  Even I could not squeeze out a drop of humor or sarcastic quip about that summer solstice morning when we woke to face the longest day of the year and the rest of our lives without our miniature horse, Applejacks, and our blind sheep, Ray-Ray. Read more

Do NOT go there.

Posted on | June 26, 2011 | 1 Comment

It doesn’t matter if you need the sprayer to hit the cucumbers with a squirt of fish emulsion.

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Have you heard?

Posted on | May 1, 2011 | 4 Comments

If not, you will be hearing it shortly.

The cicadas have hatched.  That’s right,  after 13 years of waiting, they climbed out of their underground holes, and are shedding their skins in preparation for breeding season.  A brief and loud season of ecstasy before they die and leave their young behind to repeat the process. Read more

A Milk Machine.

Posted on | May 1, 2011 | 1 Comment

Despite her impressive lineage and a beautiful udder, Magenta is not producing much milk.  I was a bit concerned when I saw her kicking her babies away whenever they tried to nurse.  I was really concerned when the kids started suckling any part of exposed human skin when we went into the kidding barn to visit them.  And although they appeared to be growing and vigorous, they were gobbling grain when they were only a week old.  As if it was the only thing they got to eat.

I usually start milking 3 weeks after kids are born.  I think it gives the mom and babies some good bonding time before I start separating them at night so I can milk in the morning.  But at the 2 week mark I put Magenta on the stand.  My plan was to milk her out and then give a bottle to the smallest of her triplets, if not all three of them. Read more

One Of These Is Not Like The Others

Posted on | April 25, 2011 | No Comments

It’s always fun to find a torpedo egg in the nest box.

I doubt it is fun to lay one, though.

A Royal Decree.

Posted on | April 25, 2011 | 2 Comments

Hear ye, hear ye!

The Royal couple, Queen Brianna and King Merlin, are proud to announce the Princess Magenta has given birth!

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What do the City Folk do on Easter Sunday?

Posted on | April 25, 2011 | 2 Comments

Church, perhaps?  Maybe brunch?  Enjoying that special Peeps cake I made for dessert after stuffing ourselves full of ham?  I’m just assuming that’s what they do since that’s what we had planned, too.  Until I went to the barn to milk and found a dirty pony rolling on the ground and refusing to eat her breakfast.  Someone sound the colic siren, please. Read more

A Farm Girl.

Posted on | April 2, 2011 | 9 Comments

Some people are born to farm.  Some people are born on a farm.  Every once in a while, the stars line up, the Fates smile down, God snaps His fingers, and a child who is born to farm is born on a farm.  And you get this:

Pretty

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