Not all who wander are lost...

I am so incredibly lucky...The other day I walked down my dirt road down into the field. My workboots kicked at the gravel and I took in a deep breath (probably activating my allergies). The 4 foot tall grass gently waved in the breeze, and the busy bees hovered from clover to clover and occasionally swarmed around my head. I heard the crow of Jun, acknowledging my arrival. I looked to the tops of the pine trees toward the puffy clouds, feeling the rare Washington sun on my face. After tossing the corn to the girls (and Jun), I braved my way through the tall grass and headed toward the orchard. I watched a mama quail and her brood run through the grass and saw other birds dart in and out of the trees...(hopefully eating all the damn mosquitos). I checked each fruit tree over...looking for any sign of fruit or disease. I crossed the field and checked my walnut trees, and the little silver maple my grandpa sent me that is now two feet tall. Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed out here...I don't know if I feel like I am 5 again, on the coolest adventure of my life, or if I feel 33 and all grown up...on the coolest adventure of my life...
The thought crossed my mind of laying in the grass...hiding from the world, and watching the clouds go by...but then again, ever since the whole tick event, I am not going to make access for them any easier than it has to be!
I realize every day that not everyone gets to live this way. I know it isn't "normal" that someone can step outside their back door, and pluck a blueberry off their own bush and pop it in their mouth. Or be able to look out their living room window and see a mama bird feed her chirping babies in a bird house I put up last year.
I've decided I want to make this available for everyone...I don't want all of you camping in my backyard...but I would love people to come visit...Someday I want elementary school classes to come visit and pet farm animals they've never seen before...for them to pick their own apples and sample some juice made from them. I want families to come pick out their pumpkins every year, and make my farm one of their family traditions.
I could die tomorrow...and I would be so satisfied that I have lived and have had what I always wanted....except for the new kitchen...and to make my own cider and trail mix...to have one of my own turkeys for thanksgiving....oh and to fix up my old truck...and to publish that damn novel...ok...maybe I'm not ready to die tomorrow... ;)
And I am so lucky to have P and my family to share it with...there is nothing better than having a hand to hold on my way back up that dirt road...

Chicken Fried and Sic 'em on a chicken

Two of my favorite songs lately are by the Zac Brown Band. I try to listen to this first song as often as I can. It makes me tap my toe, sing at the top of my lungs, and it rejuvinates me for whatever may come my way. It's a simple summary of how life should be. The second song is just funny. We don't play either song in front of the girls though. We don't want them to get the wrong idea, and we think if they did hear it, it may affect their "raised humane" certification. Besides...raised anxiety may cause their eggs to taste funny. Hope you check out these songs and enjoy them as much as I do....

CHICKEN FRIED
You know I like my chicken fried
Cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
And the radio up
I like to see the sunrise
see the love in my woman's eyes
feel the touch of a precious child
know a mother's love.

Well I was raised up beneath the shade of a Georgia pine
And that`s home you know
Sweet tea pecan pie and homemade wine
Where the peaches grow
In my house it`s not much to talk about
But it`s filled with love that`s grown in southern ground
And a little bit of chicken fried

Cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
And the radio up
Well I`ve seen the sunrise
See the love in my woman`s eyes
Feel the touch of a precious child
And know a mother`s love

Well its funny how it`s the little things in life that mean the most
Not where you live, the car you drive, or the price tag on your clothes
There`s no dollar sign on a piece of mind this I`ve come to know
So if you agree have a drink with me
Raise your glasses for a toast
To a little bit of chicken fried

Cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
And the radio up
Well I`ve seen the sunrise
See the love in my woman`s eyes
Feel the touch of a precious child
And know a mother`s love

I thank god for my life
And for the stars and stripes
May freedom forever fly, let it ring.
Salute the ones who died
The ones that give their lives so we don`t have to sacrifice
All the things we love
Like our chicken fried

Cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
And the radio up
Well I`ve seen the sunrise
See the love in my woman`s eyes
Feel the touch of a precious child
And know a mother`s love


SIC 'EM ON A CHICKEN
Sic 'em on a chicken.

Sic 'em on a chicken.

Sic 'em on a chicken and watch them feathers fly


Sic 'em on a chicken.

Sic 'em on a chicken.

Bring out the butter and the flour we're ready to fry.


My dog Pete is the smallest dog of all the dogs in my yard

He's a mean son' bitch

Drinks Beam and water from a broken mason jar


Sic 'em on a chicken.

Sic 'em on a chicken.

Sic 'em on a chicken and watch them feathers fly


Sic 'em on a chicken.

Sic 'em on a chicken.


Bring out the butter and the flour we're ready to fry.


I heard this awful noise coming outta the woods

I heard chicken screams and

Know it ain't gonna be good


Well I think we lost the chicken

Think we lost the chicken

Think we lost the chicken because I just heard a cry


Think we lost the chicken

Think we lost the chicken

but you can get another one for a dollar 79


In a couple of years his spurs have grown

He wasn't safe to keep around the house

When he almost took an eyeball from Lonny's son

Now I was sitting at home making fig preserves

And I'd heard that youngen get kicked in the face

And I knew that that was the day that chicken was going to get what he deserved


So I chased the chicken

I chased the chicken

I chased the chicken and Pete hit 'em from the side


I chased the chicken

I chased the chicken

me and Pete suppered on a home made chicken pot pie


Sic 'em on a chicken.

Sic 'em on a chicken.

Sic 'em on a chicken and watch them feathers fly


Sic 'em on a chicken

Sic 'em on a chicken

I can smell the kitchen and it's almost supper time.

The Wiley Coyote...

The little jackass...who the hell did he think he was messing with?! Does he not know whose farm he trotted on to?! I mean, I understand where he could have made the mistake...because the lawn mower is broken, the field does look like the outback...or the African planes....with the grass and bushes being 4 feet tall in some parts...but there was no way I was going to let that dingo eat my babies!!!
Last week I was at the sink, and looked down toward the barn and saw a coyote about 50 ft from the coop. It was about 6pm, and he was staring in their general direction. I called for Patty, and she ran for her camera. He must have heard a little coyote voice in his little coyote head that told him to keep trottin', because he turned in the opposite direction and started trotting toward the other end of the property.
Well, Jun being a little delayed, started crowing at that moment...when the danger was over. So we headed down to the barn to make sure they were all ok. Everyone was ok! Our first predator avoided! Bring it! (I shouldn't say that...next it may be a damn bear...)

The crow heard round the whole damn neighborhood...

Well...he won't shutup now. Most mornings he starts at 5:45 in the morning...and then he crows...for about 15 minutes...and then he stops for about ten minutes, and crows for about another 10. It's like hitting the snooze button.
We don't mind it...we can't hear it if the windows are closed. My only concern was my neighbors Bruce and Chris. They have been so good to us...and we look out for them...and they look out for us...and I would have hated it if Jun was keeping them up all day and night. So this past week I invited them over to see the girls and the coop. They knew we were getting chickens a long time ago, but when you have acres between you and your neighbor, you don't always see them. So I brought them over, and they fell in love with the girls right away. And they LOVE Jun. They love listening to him all day long.
I have to admit some days when he doesn't stop, I hope he will get little rooster laryngitis. But I think he does it when he is happy, and when he sees or hears a potential predator. AND he is walking perfectly now. Completely back to normal. But his head is still completely hen-pecked. We got a new treatment for his head that is suppose to taste bad. If that doesn't work...he is going to need to join a little feather club for roosters.

26-1=25....right?

Well, ever since we lost Alice (RIP), we got in the habit of always counting 25. The 24 girls, plus Jun= 25. So when they have been out for awhile on their own, when we are trying to get them all together, we count them.
Last weekend, when Patty was counting, she yelled to me, my mom, Steevareeno, and Mariah to come help her count because she swore she was counting 26. So we all started counting...11 in the coop and 15 outside...that's 26...wait...that's not right...count them again. This went on and on for about 5 minutes, and I said let's check them by breed. How many whites do we have? 3...ok that's right...how many buffs? 3...ok...that's right... How many blacks? 4....huh? Check again....yep, definitely 4 black ones....Well I only ordered 3....we didn't have more than 3 of any kind. So we looked at the black australorps, and sure enough, one of them had a larger comb, and wattles. How the hell?
So either this extra chicken was dropped off, or it ran away from home...but we have no idea how in the world it ended up IN the run. She looks healthy...so we don't really mind....at least no one dumped puppies or something in our yard. But as for the story of the 26th chicken...the world may never know...

One legged Jun, and the crow heard 'round the farm...

Our poor Jun. Several weeks ago, when my mom was visiting, she noticed our "free exotic chick", Jun, was limping. I picked him up and looked at his feet and legs and saw nothing. After a few days, it got a lot worse. We have no idea what he did, but he wouldn't walk or stand. I was really afraid we were going to lose him...that the girls would take advantage of the fact that he couldn't get away, and peck him to death. But there wasn't anything we could do. I hoped whatever was going on with him would heal itself, and he would be back to normal. He didn't move for about a week. Patty kept putting food in front of him, and dipping his beak for water, but he just laid in the corner of the coop all day and night...couldn't move to go outside or eat or drink. It's been about 3 weeks now, and he is back to hobbling around. He doesn't seem to be in pain...and he moves around pretty good...but he will probably have this bad limp for the rest of his little life...And yes, he is still bald...but we don't point that out to him because he is self-concious about it...
And the little guy crows....I think we have come to the conclusion that he is our only rooster, but a rooster he definitely is! When we go see him, he puffs up, and then lets it go with everything he has! COCKADOODLE DOO!!! It's so cute. We turn away when we giggle, because we don't want to insult his little masculinity...but it's so darn cute. And he loves being held...he falls asleep. It's probably from all the times he was held when the tar was being put on his head to protect it. But he is a real sweetheart, and I hope he is around for a really long time. :)

The saga continues...

I am so sorry! I bet you guys have been worried sick out of your minds! Last I mention the crazy Canadian Pig Farmer...and then nothing....silence....I bet you were all thinking that I met the back of my own shovel...but don't you worry your pretty little heads! All is well here. Just tremendously busy...so I will try to catch you up the best I can.
The chicken run is done...TA DUM!!!! Well except for the roofing. It's just a tarp right now. But at least they can be outside...but let me back up.
It got to the point that as long as the little bubble was between the lines it was perfectly level. Toward the end, we were dreading our days working on the run. It seemed it would never end. The chickens were getting bigger...and their coop, even though perfect for evenings, was too small for all day long.
After the frame was up, we attached two layers of fencing with a staple gun...yep...sounds like bad news....
P was shooting staples, and wondering why no staples were coming out...and the next 60 seconds happened in slow motion...She turned the staple gun, and was holding it by the wrong end...I'm not sure how it happened, but the handle was squeezed, and a staple ended up in her hand. She yelled and dropped the stapler, and held her hand out. Fortunately, she was wearing a rubber glove. But we both just stared at her hand, kind of in shock. I swear I may have even said, "Hey, did you know there is a staple in your hand?" ;) So she pulled it out and we were both dreading her taking the glove off...I knew it had to have gone in almost a half inch. She pulled her glove off, and the palm of her hand looked like she had been bit by a snake. I ran and got the first aid kit, and after some deep breathing exercises, she was doing pretty good! We cleaned her hand, and put some gauze on it. And then...being the total bad ass she is...put a latex glove on, put her rubber glove on, and then insisted we go back to work. I guess that's why she gets the Xena the Warrior Princess hammer and I get the lame one that might as well squeak...because I would have been paralyzed. I would have probably dropped to my knees, shook my bloody hand at the sky and yelled WHYYYYYYYYYY?!?!?! and passed out yelling for someone to suck out the poison...And then when I woke up I would have insisted on a cast that all my friends and family could sign and an ice cream to ease my pain...So we worked for about another hour, and as a prize, I bought her duct tape bandaids to wear on her puncture so she could maintain her badass image...
So we eventually finished the run after several long days and the occasional friendly disagreement. :) On the big day we opened the little chicken door....the voices of angels were heard...and....they wouldn't go out. I had to pick up every single one of them individually and push them through the little chicken door while P had to keep them from running back in on the outside. And then to get them back in was a joke. We literally had to chase them and herd them back in. That was the first time. Now, their little chicken door is on a timer. It opens at 5am, and closes at 9pm. We can see them from our bedroom with the binoculars. It is so cute to watch them run like little football players, and try to fly. They are 18 weeks now, and should be laying in a few weeks. Eggs anyone?