The day before my annual trek north for the holidays my parents received 12 inches of snow, and it stayed. And it hasn't gotten above 25 since somewhere half-way into my drive home. The windshield wiper fluid in the truck froze up four days ago (so much for working to +20 degrees, it was causing trouble by 26) and running a bunch of the "good -20 stuff" wasn't enough to keep the lines open.
But I made it to my parents place in good time, the dog is getting spoiled rotten, and leaving the house has become an as-needed event. I thought my hour and a half of guarding cow yard gates and helping bed the young cows on Saturday was a good measure of my cold tolerance but after spending five hours out in the cold on Sunday I can confirm my blood has indeed thinned after 12 years of southern living. I guess my limit is about two hours before I need to break out the hand and foot warmers. Either that or playing gate man is enough activity to generate sufficient body heat and blood flow to the extremities.
Snow drifts are anywhere from knee- to waist-deep in the cow yard. Not a problem if you are a full grown momma cow or even a yearling steer but one of the recently weaned guys learned the hard way that if you stray off the established trail between the feeder and water source that one can quickly become temporarily stuck chest-deep in the white stuff. At least the joyful, frolicking energy of youth made a bit of a game out of lunging and bounding back to the cow trail and the nice warm bed of straw at the end of it.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Feeding the herd
I've know for a while that the dog has a preference for the commercial feed I give the horses. Any time I spill on the feed room floor, she's there to vacuum up the pellets. And when the horses drop feed while they eat, a common occurrence with my pair of special needs eaters, she's there to hoover-up the orts, sometimes getting herself covered in wet, slobbery crumbs in the process.
But now I find the black cat has developed a preference for the chicken feed. The last few days I've found her poking around the outdoor feeding pan. At first I thought it was exploratory sniffing. Now I've caught her actually eating the chicken feed.
I'm not depriving the dog and cat by any means. Yes, the dog is on restricted diet to help prevent weight-related issues for which her breed is known, and I really need to curb what she eats in the barn since I've discovered her random indoor flatulence is due to the soaked beet pulp she pilfers off the old horse. The cats are all on ad libitum cat chow supplemented by a healthy diet of chipmunks, squirrels, and rabbits usually caught by the black kitty herself. "Q" is even the first one at the feed bowls when I dole out the twice-daily refill.
Not good that the resident familial carnivores have a preference for what the herbivores (horses) and omnivores (chickens), but they get enough of their own respective feeds to prevent any dietary deficits. But it would be nice if I could get away with feeding them what the others are getting, it would safe a lot on the feed bill.
Which reminds me, the horses are running low. I better add the feed store to today's list of errands.
But now I find the black cat has developed a preference for the chicken feed. The last few days I've found her poking around the outdoor feeding pan. At first I thought it was exploratory sniffing. Now I've caught her actually eating the chicken feed.
I'm not depriving the dog and cat by any means. Yes, the dog is on restricted diet to help prevent weight-related issues for which her breed is known, and I really need to curb what she eats in the barn since I've discovered her random indoor flatulence is due to the soaked beet pulp she pilfers off the old horse. The cats are all on ad libitum cat chow supplemented by a healthy diet of chipmunks, squirrels, and rabbits usually caught by the black kitty herself. "Q" is even the first one at the feed bowls when I dole out the twice-daily refill.
Not good that the resident familial carnivores have a preference for what the herbivores (horses) and omnivores (chickens), but they get enough of their own respective feeds to prevent any dietary deficits. But it would be nice if I could get away with feeding them what the others are getting, it would safe a lot on the feed bill.
Which reminds me, the horses are running low. I better add the feed store to today's list of errands.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Small victories
I hate it when work gets in the way of life. But the seasonal craziness is over, as marked by the office Christmas party last night.
Now, back to life on the "farm". Good news, the chickens are proving to be smarter than originally thought.
Yup, they have discovered they can drink out of the livestock water tanks. And are also smart enough to avoid the strip of electrified fence tape over the tank. I'm getting some ideas for chicken proofing the garden . . .
Now, back to life on the "farm". Good news, the chickens are proving to be smarter than originally thought.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
RAAA-CHELLL, RAAA-CHELLL
The other night I was woken up around 2 a.m. by what I thought was someone screaming the name "Rachel". You know, that high-pitched, drawn-out scream like you are looking for someone lost in the woods. It didn't help that I was not sleeping well since I heard hunting rifle shots earlier in the evening. (I'm hoping someone was hog hunting, but more likely they were shining deer. Welcome to life in the rural south.)
So I'm lying in bed, in a sleepy-foggy-stupor, trying to locate the general direction of the screams. I'm also wondering why the dog is not doing her usual low pitched growl whenever she picks up the scent of imaginary threats. And after a few more screams, coming from the general direction of the barn and back side of the property, I realize its not a person but rather a rooster producing this ruckus in the middle of the night. Forget cock-a-doodle-do, this rooster usually sounds more like "ER-ur-RUUUR!", and in this situation it was using the first syllable to warm-up the vocal cords and throwing all the effort into the second and third.
Which then begs the question, why the heck would a rooster be crowing at 2 a.m.? Unfortunately this is far from a solitary episode. There are nights when I hear them crowing about the time I'm going to bed, a few other times I've heard them around 2 a.m. if I'm having trouble sleeping. This was starting to remind me of those old Dr. Pepper commercials about 10-2-4, except during night time hours. And with winter solstice less than a month away, first light is somewhere around 5:45 and sunrise around 6:30 a.m. Tonight the alpha-male even threw in a few crows for good measure when I turned on the barn lights at 6 p.m. to evening chores, about an hour and a half after sunset.
Back to the original question, why the heck would a rooster be crowing at 2 a.m.? Yes, I do have one of those rural yard/security lights on the end of the barn, but very little of that light reaches the chicken coop. And it happens regardless of the phase of the moon so I can't blame that. It seems to only be one or two birds that are the culprits of this cacophony. When the alpha-male crowed tonight, it was the same pitch and tone as what I usually hear during other night-crowing sessions.
Being the educated person I'm supposed to be, I run a Google Scholar search. And I try extension.org. And still not having found the answer I do a regular Yahoo! search and find myself on the forum page of backyardchickens.com. Good news, I'm not the only one with weird roosters. Bad news, any disturbance can seem to cause this.
So when my friend butt-dialed me from a concert around 10:30 one night last week and I blamed her for waking the birds and causing them to start crowing? Maybe that wasn't so far from the truth after all.
So I'm lying in bed, in a sleepy-foggy-stupor, trying to locate the general direction of the screams. I'm also wondering why the dog is not doing her usual low pitched growl whenever she picks up the scent of imaginary threats. And after a few more screams, coming from the general direction of the barn and back side of the property, I realize its not a person but rather a rooster producing this ruckus in the middle of the night. Forget cock-a-doodle-do, this rooster usually sounds more like "ER-ur-RUUUR!", and in this situation it was using the first syllable to warm-up the vocal cords and throwing all the effort into the second and third.
Which then begs the question, why the heck would a rooster be crowing at 2 a.m.? Unfortunately this is far from a solitary episode. There are nights when I hear them crowing about the time I'm going to bed, a few other times I've heard them around 2 a.m. if I'm having trouble sleeping. This was starting to remind me of those old Dr. Pepper commercials about 10-2-4, except during night time hours. And with winter solstice less than a month away, first light is somewhere around 5:45 and sunrise around 6:30 a.m. Tonight the alpha-male even threw in a few crows for good measure when I turned on the barn lights at 6 p.m. to evening chores, about an hour and a half after sunset.
Back to the original question, why the heck would a rooster be crowing at 2 a.m.? Yes, I do have one of those rural yard/security lights on the end of the barn, but very little of that light reaches the chicken coop. And it happens regardless of the phase of the moon so I can't blame that. It seems to only be one or two birds that are the culprits of this cacophony. When the alpha-male crowed tonight, it was the same pitch and tone as what I usually hear during other night-crowing sessions.
Being the educated person I'm supposed to be, I run a Google Scholar search. And I try extension.org. And still not having found the answer I do a regular Yahoo! search and find myself on the forum page of backyardchickens.com. Good news, I'm not the only one with weird roosters. Bad news, any disturbance can seem to cause this.
So when my friend butt-dialed me from a concert around 10:30 one night last week and I blamed her for waking the birds and causing them to start crowing? Maybe that wasn't so far from the truth after all.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Laundry, again
I really shouldn't complain. After all, it's just me and the dog when it comes to producing dirty laundry, and really her's is more of a wash-when-you-think-of-it regarding her various sleeping pillows. I don't hold a candle to what my friends with husbands/kids/combination thereof can produce in a day.
But lately the horses have also been contributing. Yes, those outdoor creatures. I have spent the last four weeks doctoring some leg lacerations. I'm to the point in the process where I can use re-useable materials for the outer bandages, so they get stained with wound "ooze" from the skin side and all things "organic" on the outside. Which means I'm washing lots of leg wraps from the daily bandage changes. And barn towels from the daily leg scrubbing. And jeans caked with damp shavings dust and mud (from where I don't know since we are in a drought). And sweatshirts with various ointments and medications smeared on the sleeves thanks to the not-so-patient patient. And t-shirts covered in lip prints from the old horse who feels the need to nudge me after finishing his meal of "soaked slop" (since he can't chew regular pellets anymore).
I've learned a few things, and have had time to ponder many more, as I plan my laundry loads so the right items are available the next time I need to tend to the herd. First, blood and wound ooze is actually not that hard to get out of things, provided of course you launder it quickly, use the "autosoak" feature on the washer, throw in two Tide Boost packs with the detergent no matter how small the load, and cross your fingers behind your back while walking backwards in a circle three times. Second, wearing the same pair of jeans for chores two days in a row may spare your good jeans, but they can practically walk themselves to the hamper when you shed them. And finally, just because you don't see anything on your t-shirt when you come in from the barn doesn't mean it won't sprout barn-induced stains later in the evening (where did that feed smear come from?).
Spin cycle just finished, time to throw things in the dryer. Hopefully I picked out all the shavings this time so they won't plug up the lint screen.
But lately the horses have also been contributing. Yes, those outdoor creatures. I have spent the last four weeks doctoring some leg lacerations. I'm to the point in the process where I can use re-useable materials for the outer bandages, so they get stained with wound "ooze" from the skin side and all things "organic" on the outside. Which means I'm washing lots of leg wraps from the daily bandage changes. And barn towels from the daily leg scrubbing. And jeans caked with damp shavings dust and mud (from where I don't know since we are in a drought). And sweatshirts with various ointments and medications smeared on the sleeves thanks to the not-so-patient patient. And t-shirts covered in lip prints from the old horse who feels the need to nudge me after finishing his meal of "soaked slop" (since he can't chew regular pellets anymore).
I've learned a few things, and have had time to ponder many more, as I plan my laundry loads so the right items are available the next time I need to tend to the herd. First, blood and wound ooze is actually not that hard to get out of things, provided of course you launder it quickly, use the "autosoak" feature on the washer, throw in two Tide Boost packs with the detergent no matter how small the load, and cross your fingers behind your back while walking backwards in a circle three times. Second, wearing the same pair of jeans for chores two days in a row may spare your good jeans, but they can practically walk themselves to the hamper when you shed them. And finally, just because you don't see anything on your t-shirt when you come in from the barn doesn't mean it won't sprout barn-induced stains later in the evening (where did that feed smear come from?).
Spin cycle just finished, time to throw things in the dryer. Hopefully I picked out all the shavings this time so they won't plug up the lint screen.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Hellooo out there!
My friend "Portland" has been on me for a while to start a blog. It came about because of all the short anecdotes that would appear on my FB feed regarding my yard-poultry-raising experiences. Actually it goes back farther than that. After several years of renting a house in town I had enough of civilized living and finally bought my dream property in the country. Don't get me wrong, this is not a Green Acres scenario by any means since I was raised on a farm in the Midwest, but if you don't find the humor in your daily life you can go nuts pretty quick.
Where do the chickens come in? Actually I wanted guineas. They are supposed to be good at keeping down the bugs in the horse pasture and spreading around the poop piles. But before I could get my guineas a coworker gave me a young rooster that had been mixed in with her last order of laying hen chicks. One thing lead to another, the guineas appeared, then disappeared one by one, then I got more, then THEY became dinner for the local wildlife too, and to shorten up the story I now have six roosters from the same coworker and have managed to keep them alive for four months (though it took some training). In the end they do an OK job of managing the horse manure, they have destroyed my garden, and they provide comedic relief more than anything else.
So the whole point of this is to share my experiences, poke fun at a few things, and get some random tangents out of my head. Enjoy!
Where do the chickens come in? Actually I wanted guineas. They are supposed to be good at keeping down the bugs in the horse pasture and spreading around the poop piles. But before I could get my guineas a coworker gave me a young rooster that had been mixed in with her last order of laying hen chicks. One thing lead to another, the guineas appeared, then disappeared one by one, then I got more, then THEY became dinner for the local wildlife too, and to shorten up the story I now have six roosters from the same coworker and have managed to keep them alive for four months (though it took some training). In the end they do an OK job of managing the horse manure, they have destroyed my garden, and they provide comedic relief more than anything else.
So the whole point of this is to share my experiences, poke fun at a few things, and get some random tangents out of my head. Enjoy!
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