The family. We are a strange little band of characters trudging through life, sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that binds us all together.

- Erma Bombeck

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Horse Running and Hawk Attack

We've had a pretty calm few weeks.  Mostly bad weather.  In fact, I've been contemplating the idea of creating raised beds in the house so that we never have to plant the garden.  Last week I began hardening off the indoor starts and the next day I had to stop because it was snowing.  Crazy!

Even though there hasn't been a lot of excitement, we have had a few minor things happening.  The biggest news is that the horses now have a huge pasture all to themselves.  My pseudo sister-in-law moved her horses to her new place and that means that for a little while we get to take over both pastures.  The only reason it will be temporary is the infamous fencing challenge.

All farms fight this challenge...how to find the resources to buy the fencing to take the best advantage of your land.  We will be fighting this challenge with the horse pasture because my sis will be taking her fencing down (she bought it so she's keeping it).  So, we could really imagine that the horses have a huge pasture anywhere, but until we have the fencing to put back up, it doesn't matter.  Still, it was pretty awesome watching the horses stretch into their full running gait for the first time in awhile.  They've been in a pasture that just didn't allow for a true run.

Red-tailed hawk.
Now, about the hawk.  We are blessed to have an amazing variety of raptors visit our field.  I have personally seen American kestrels, Gryfalcons, Merlins, Prairie falcons, red-tailed hawks, and even a pair of bald eagles (boy, they are big!).  Most of the time, I love them.  I like to look up their distinctions and figure out which is which.  But just like raccoons are cute, little bandits up until the day they kill my chickens, hawks are only pretty when they aren't eating my livestock!

Yesterday I heard the distinct cry of a chicken in distress.  I ran to the chicken coop in time to see a very large hawk drop one of my chickens and fly off.  I checked the chicken.  She was fine.  All of the bigger chickens were in the shed, cackling.  This chicken was one of my younger teens and she didn't seem to know that hiding was the thing to do with raptors in the sky.  I spent much of the rest of the day listening for chickens and watching for hawks.  I saw the hawk a few more times, but there were no attacks.

Until this morning.  I heard the cry of a chicken, got out of bed to look, and saw several of my hens in the shed - their heads cocked to one side so they could get a better view of the sky.  I thought that the hawk must've taken a look and headed off without a catch.  I could see the hawk sitting on the pivot in the field.  It would shriek every once in awhile, but it had nothing in its claws.

Later in the morning, J and I kept looking out at the field.  Just before the grass started there was a butterscotch-colored lump.  When I went out to investigate, it was a chicken.  Butterscotch, to be exact.  She had obviously been killed and partially eaten, I suspect by the hawk.  For the remainder of today, I have been watching the sky with the chickens...hopeful that the raptor has had her fill, but knowing better.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

The Broilers Have Moved to a Colder Climate

This morning was the moment of truth.  As I may or may not have mentioned, I bought a dozen broiler chickens not only to be able to provide healthier meat for my family, but also to get over the act of killing a chicken.  While I don't ever want the butchering process to be something that I simply dismiss, I would like to feel more comfortable with it as a part of the life of a farm.  So, after a quick trip to the store for ice and FoodSaver storage bags, I loaded up the ten remaining broiler chickens in a dog crate and headed out to my friend's house to "process" the chickens.

Yesterday's butchering was challenging for many reasons...I wasn't prepared for it mentally but also I didn't have the fancy equipment that we would be using today.  For that single reason, I skinned the chicken yesterday and would be plucking today.  Plucking a chicken (or any fowl for that matter) is something that you only need to do once before you decide that you really don't need the skin that much.  It is stinky, difficult, and time-consuming.  One time is definitely enough.

My friend has a scalder and a plucker.  When I asked her how much she bought it for, she said $750 USED!  She rents it out to friends for $50 for the weekend.  We, however, made a trade.  She would let me test it out (since she will be processing her chickens next week) and in return, I would let her use Zeus (our Boer buck) as a stud this fall for her does.  Great deal.  No money out of pocket for either of us, and we both get something out of it.  We will most certainly be using it again (even if we have to pay her to rent it).

When I arrived, T had everything set up, so after some pleasantries, we got to work.  I selected the first chicken from the dog crate - not sure how to choose but knowing that all of the chickens would sooner or later be chosen.  We had agreed that I would wring their necks and then use the hatchet to chop their heads off.  T had never wrung a chicken's neck before and was impressed with my skill.  Like a magic trick, she was mesmerized by the movement of my hands.  It distracted her from the contorted face I made as I closed my eyes and tried to imagine that the feathers clenched in my hand was not actually a chicken.  Once the nexk was broken for sure (about five or six turns), I moved to the wood block.

The chickens all still moved around after their necks were broken.  This was somewhat disconcerting as our goal was a quick and merciless death.  Watching them flail afterwards gave me the slightest doubt that they were truly finished.  But I pressed on.  The hatchet wasn't very large and it really took about three whacks to get through all of the feathers and bone.  The first hit always seemed to surprise the chicken, another reason to doubt the efficacy of the wringing.  It's eyes would open wide and its beak would shudder.  Sometimes the wings would flap.  A couple of times, the chicken would swing its headless neck around spraying us with tiny specks of blood.  This job is NOT for the faint of heart.

After hanging the bird over a bucket for a few minutes to let the blood drain, we would bring it over to the scalder.  The scalder was not fancy, really just a 3 foot x 3 foot x 3 foot plastic box with 130 degree water in it.  Oh, and a "squirt" of dish soap.  We weren't really sure what the soap was for, but the instructions told T to put it in and we weren't about to ignore the instructions.  Holding on to the feet, about a five second swish up and down in the scalder was all it took.  I'm not sure what you're supposed to look for, but I noticed that the skin would start to get little goosebumps and that seemed to me to be a good indicator it was ready to come out.  I know that you need to leave the bird in the water long enough to open the pores but want to keep it short enough that you don't cook the skin.

Whizbang Chicken Plucker - not the one we used, but similar.
We noticed a few bruises on the wingtips of the first couple of birds.  I think it was from all of the flapping that they did while dying.  We made a mental note to hold the wings down the next time.  Once the bird was scalded, I dropped it into the plucker - a round basin about the size of a washing machine drum with three inch rubber dowels sticking out all over the inside walls.  In addition to the dowels, there were tiny nozzles squirting a constant stream of water into the basin.  With the bird in the basin, T flipped the machine on.  Her kids were just as interested as we were to see what would happen next.  It looked as if the carcass would spin around and launch out of the basin in some nondirectional macabre final flight.  It didn't.  It bounced around the basin over and over again.  When we turned off the machine (about 3 minutes later), the bird looked more recognizable...a chicken you might buy at the store (only with bright yellow fat feet, kind of like buying carrots with the stems still on).

Off to the table.  We would carfully cut around the vent and then using kitchen shears, we would cut through the bone of the tail and take the whole bottom off.  After that, a horizontal slit allowed us to reach inside and pull out all of the innards.  I had brought gloves, but neither one of us wore them.  It was too much of a hassle going back and forth between gloves for cleaning and gloves for killing.  When the chicken was gutted (and the liver and heart separated to be saved - the livers for me, the hearts for her dog), we dropped it into a bin of ice water to cool down quickly.

After one particularly disturbing death, where the chicken seemed to be looking up at me as I prepared to behead it, we switched to a different method of killing.  T had used a pellet gun to the head the last time she processed chickens and she said it was much easier and certainly more definite.  Unfortunately, we couldn't find the pellet gun.  So we opted for the 22 instead.

I don't have a lot of experience with a 22, but I know enough to know that putting a 22 to the back of a chicken's head and pulling the trigger is not going to be pretty.  And it wasn't.  I would hold the chicken around the wings and breast, pointing it's head in front of it.  T would put the gun to the back of its head.  I would close my eyes (similar expression to wringing) and bam...I wouldn't be able to hear for a few seconds as I fought to keep the chicken's wings from flapping.  T would often step on the head solving two problems, one: the subsequent zombie features that a chicken who has just been shot point blank in the back of the head with a 22 has, and two: the flailing head that inevitably rained sprinkles of blood across us both.  Then, not as gracefully as the hatchet, T would cut the head off with the kitchen shears and we would begin the bleeding, scalding, plucking, cleaning, cooling process.

We processed ten chickens in about two hours...but honestly, we were having a good time talking and would stop mid-process when the conversation got good so that we could use our bloody hands for gestures.  It's interesting how the whole experience, while not pleasant, was not half as bad as I had expected...mainly because I had someone there going through it with me.  We thanked each chicken before killing it.  We laughed at our ineptitudes.  We talked about how neither of our husbands would be caught dead doing this.  We shared personal experiences that other women might share over coffee.  And somehow, it didn't seem strange.

In the end, I came home with ten shrink-wrapped fryers weighing right around 4 pounds a piece.  I put them all in the fridge to settle for a couple of days (allowing them to go through the process of rigor mortis helps the meat to become tender) and then the ones that aren't sold to customers immediately, will go into the freezer for a later date.  We have already sold three chickens at $15.00 a piece.  The total cost out of pocket for us is only about $5.00 a bird. 

All in all, a very successful day.  I'm already planning for the next batch.  But I know what I have at the top of my honey-do list now...a chicken plucker.  I've already found the book that describes how to build it.  It's called "Anyone Can Build a Tub-Style Mechanical Chicken Plucker."  Catchy title, I know.  But it looks like a winner to me.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Butchering Chickens...a Little Earlier Than Expected

I was planning on writing up a long post tomorrow evening (with pictures) of the entire butchering process, but plans change.  I will still write about tomorrow as we will be processing ten chickens using a scalder and plucker machine for the first time.  But I need to explain today.

This morning when I went out to feed, I felt compulsed to count the broiler chickens in the pen with the feeder pigs.  I don't usually do this and I'm not sure what was different about today.  Maybe I was just anticipating tomorrow's butcher.  Maybe the flock looked smaller than I remembered.  Anyway, I should've counted twelve and I kept coming up with eleven.  As I scanned the pen, I noticed a strange thing in the pile of grain that George was chomping on.  Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a chicken foot.  Hmmmm.  While I don't think that the pigs were counting on a chicken dinner, the circumstances must've presented themselves and pigs, being the omnivores that they are, seized the moment.  Needless to say, I decided to move all of the other broilers into a different pen for their last 24 hours.

J and I went to work catching and relocating the broilers.  They are not nearly as difficult to catch as the layer hens are.  Their heavy bodies make any attempt at escape more of a waddle than a run.  Within 10 minutes we had moved everyone into the cage in the shed.  But there was one problem.  As J set the last hen down, it's body rolled over and something happened.  It was flopping its legs around and gasping - definitely not healthy chicken behavior.

I decided that the best course of action would be to kill it and have it for dinner tonight.  We could've waited until tomorrow and processed it with the others, but if it died in the interim, it might not be good to eat.  Rather than risk another loss, I prepared for the job and got to work.

Having only done this once before, I quickly refreshed my memory by reading through the article on the backwoodshome.com website titled "How to Butcher a Chicken in 20 Minutes or Less" by Dr. Roger W. Grim (gotta love the last name).  J collected my hatchet, a sharp paring knife, my rubber gloves, and a bucket.  We set up next to the wood pile.

I first wrung the chicken's neck.  I find it easier to do this first.  Then I don't worry that the chicken will move when I chop the head off.  I was a bit soft with the hatchet...but the head came off.  Once beheaded, I began by gutting the chicken.  If you make an incision from the vent to the breastbone, you can generally clean out most of the insides.  Make sure to grip the esophagus and windpipe so that it comes out with everything else or you will fight with it later.

Once the chicken was gutted, I slit the skin around the knees and began pulling it down the chicken (J acted as a rack by holding the chicken up by its feet for me).  Slowly cutting the skin away from the flesh and peeling down, around, and back, the chicken is skinned.  I cut the wings off at the last joint to make it easier to skin the wings.  There were a few feathers still stuck to the bird, but all in all, the skin came off easier than the last bird I processed.

I brought the bird inside, washed it out, patted it dry and weighed it.  Surprisingly, it only weighed about three pounds when dressed out.  It was certainly one of the lighter chickens in the bunch but it leads me to believe that most of the broilers will top out at five pounds.  An average should be closer to seven pounds, but we allowed our birds a lot of space and I limited their feed.  We will see what the taste is like.  It may be that we give up a couple of pounds to allow the birds to grow in a more natural setting.

So the only stress left is the cooking.  When you take the time to butcher your own chicken, you really want to make sure that you cook it right.  I am simply going to roast it in a covered pan.  I put a stick of butter in the center and some poulty seasoning on the meat.  I want to experience the flavor, but I also need to protect it as we skinned rather than plucked.  I'll let you know the verdict tomorrow.

*UPDATE*
The chicken was very flavorful, but somewhat tough.  I thought I might have ruined the meat by allowing the birds as much room to run as I did.  Come to find out, you should let the meat "rest" for a couple of days in the fridge before cooking it so that it goes through the rigor mortis process and becomes tender again.  So we'll have to wait for the next bird to see if the texture is good.  The flavor is excellent!

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

A New Shelter for Hammy

Well, the minute we moved Hammy into the temporary pen to allow for Ruby and Jaws' reunion, it started raining.  J tried to rig up a piece of plywood against the fence to create a leanto but Hammy had chosen a different spot for her nest and while the shelter was dry, the pig was not.  We had to build a shelter where Hammy wanted it.

We took three pallets and an old plywood roof to make it.  J used the nailgun because we're out of 3 inch screws.  We secured two of the pallets to make a corner.  We then mounted the roof to the top of the pallets.  The roof was larger than the pallets so we took the third pallet and secured it to the open end.  It didn't reach all the way to the other pallets, leaving a "window" in the back of the shelter that Hammy seemed to like.  We then filled the shelter with hay.  Hammy went to work immediately, creating a nice little nest for herself.  She spent the remainder of the day in it, happy as a hog in hay.

Friday, May 13, 2011

Preparing for Fencing

J and I decided that no matter how broke we are, we need to take $100 a month and buy something related to fencing.  There is a lot of property that is not being used because we do not have it fenced, and while the goats can "free-range" for the moment, J's dad will have goat for dinner if they wander into the hay field much more.

We had a lot of t-posts on the property, so I decided to mark out where the posts will go.  I would've actually set each post as I went, but in Central Oregon you need to drill post holes and I'm just not that good with the roto-hammer.  So I set up a string line and marked out ten foot intervals.

Something that you should know about my husband is his need for perfection where fencing is concerned.  It is not a desire, it is a need.  He has been known to use a laser sight and reset fence posts to the point of insanity (mine, at least).  So when I began this, I knew that I would be held to high standards.  I was prepared with a wheel measurer (I don't really know what this thing is called but it rolls along and tells you how far you've gone) and a level (I'm not sure what I was going to do with this, but it looked good).

I took the string line and stretched it from the goat pen to the horses.  I then collected all of the t-posts in the back of the golf cart.  I figured that even though I couldn't actually set the posts, I could lay them out where they should go.  Exactly every ten feet, I took a fence post and the sledgehammer and pounded the post in as far as it would go (usually about 6 inches).  I then made sure that the post was perpendicular.  This was really just for show as I knew that the posts would be pulled out when we drilled (if they didn't fall over before that).  I set 25 posts in two separate lines.  A good day's work.  Now I just need J to help drill the holes, set the posts, and stretch the wire.  Oh, before that, he needs to weld about four H corners.  We might be finished by the end of summer.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

A Break in the Main Line

This afternoon was noteworthy.  Not because we planted or built, but because it is a perfect example of work on a farm.

J and I had spent much of the morning trying to adjust the water valve on the irrigation water.  The overflow tank kept "sucking" and "blowing" water which meant that the valve was closed too much.  This caused an airlock in the pivot which made the end gun surge.

The process of adjusting the valve goes like this...you climb over the pile of rocks and the barbed wire fence to the water valve.  Open the cover on the weir gate so you can see how much water is flowing.  Walk to the road and turn the valve handle a half turn.  Walk back to the weir gate and see how much water is flowing now.  Climb back over the barbed wire fence and the pile of rocks.  Walk to the overflow tank and see if the level is rising enough.  Continue this process (either forward or reverse) until the overflow tank is overflowing just a smidge but the weir gate is not.

Well, the weir gate kept overflowing.  This isn't a big deal, but the water was pooling and then sending streams through the goat pen.  If it were the pig pen, it wouldn't have been an issue.  The pigs would've thought it was manna from heaven and would wallow happily for hours.  But the goats were absolutely appalled that we would allow any form of water to flow through their pen.  Quickly, the goats were stranded on the small islands of higher ground...all the time giving us the stink eye.

So J thought we could divert the overflow in the opposite direction.  We knew that the main pipe for the irrigation was buried in that general area, but it made sense that it would be under the mound.  J was going to trench carefully above that.  Or so he thought.  About ten seconds into trenching with the big old trencher, I heard J curse.  I knew immediately what had happened.  Sure enough, he had broken the main line.

I rounded up the kids and some shovels and we began to excavate the pipe.  J ran up and turned off the water.  M ran down and turned off the pivot.  And then we dug.  Because this pipe was nearly 8 inches in diameter and we were going to try to lift it with the crane truck, we needed to expose it at least 12 feet in each direction.  Fun.

By the time we had that done, J had the crane truck and a piece of pipe ready to go.  Of course, the pipe was the wrong size when we got it in place so he had to get another piece.  By this time, J's brother came over to help.  They fitted the old pipe together with the new one and got it back in the ground.  J fired everything back up and it worked.  But then the connection blew.  So J had to re-dig that section, mix concrete, and fill in around the pipe.  By the end, it was 8 o'clock in the evening and he still had another bag of concrete to do in the morning.

On the positive side, we now know where the main irrigation line is.  It is not under the mound of dirt, but rather under the pile of rocks in the ditch.  Good to know.  We'll get the pivot up and running tomorrow morning.  We have to.  The weather is finally getting warm and we have to water the field.

War

This morning launched a war...not a scrimmage, but a full-fledged, call in the troops, war. It began like most of my mornings. 5:57am Lilo started calling to her babies. I’m not sure why, but it always seems to be exactly 5:57am each morning. She has an internal clock that chimes at that time.


I rubbed my eyes, stretched, and attempted to roll out of bed. “I hear ya, Lilo” is my most common morning phrase now. My legs were sore from all of the planting that we did yesterday, but I managed to get up.

As the water warmed for the milking bucket (I fill the bucket with warm water and a drop of Dr. Bronner’s Soap to wash Lilo’s udder before milking), I made the coffee. It is almost an automatic routine at this point. I don’t know that I am truly conscious of what I’m doing. As I walked out the back door with the milking bucket, I called to the kids that it’s time to get up. They will still be asleep when I come back in, but this at least gets them to stir.

Lilo was happy to walk out of the gate when I opened it and jumped right up on to the milking stand. As always, I had to relocate her head IN the stanchion instead of around it, but otherwise, things were looking good. I secured the strap around Lilo’s rear leg and poured the warm water over the wash cloth (this way I never contaminate the bucket). Lilo was great while I washed her udder. She even seemed to like it. But it was all a ploy to lower my guard. Never underestimate the premeditation of a milking goat.

I began milking, first squirting a couple of times off the back of the stand (to clear the teat of bacteria) and then into the bucket. It was going just fine when Lilo decided to kick. Her rear leg (the one strapped to the stand) came up, back, and down. Now she was leaning off the back of the stand by about 6 inches and coming seriously close to knocking the bucket over with her belly. I waited patiently for her to reestablish her hoof on the stand, but she just kept kicking it up, back, and down. Ok , fine. I pulled the bucket out, set it on the ground and helped her set her foot back on the stand. She immediately went back to eating as if nothing had ever happened.

I thought, maybe she had an itch or the strap was pinching her. So we began again. I set the bucket under her and began to milk. The foot went up, back, and down. But this time, in between this new dance, she would set the foot back on the stand and lift the other foot. At one point her other foot landed squarely on the side of the bucket, her hoof straddling the metal edge. Luckily I was quick enough to grab the bucket and keep from losing the milk.

I decided to try and hobble her other leg too. I grabbed a piece of twine (thank God for baling twine) and looped it around her other ankle then down to the leg of the stand. Now she had both legs somewhat pinned. I went back to milking...

The minute my left hand touched her left teat, her left leg came up, back, and down. It didn’t matter that she was tied to the stand. She just took turns lifting one leg and then the other. Of course, I could see that I needed to change the way that I had hobbled her, but it was 6 o’clock in the morning. I honestly just wanted to get her milked, get her put away, and go inside to have my coffee.

I eventually resorted to milking into the grain scoop. This wasn’t because I couldn’t hold the bucket with one hand to milk, but the scoop is much smaller and easier to move in and out of the stand area. I milked out her right teat first. Then her left. She danced through almost all of it but I finished. Every time she bucked, I slapped her rear and told her no. Then I waited until she stood still again and started milking again. Squirt, squirt, leg up- back-down, scoop out, slap rear, no, wait, repeat. By the time I was finished all I could think about was how much I didn’t want to repeat this series again. But at the same time, I kept mumbling “I feed you. I care for you. My family needs this milk. This is your job. You are not going to win.”

When I went inside, I poured my coffee and immediately began reading every article, blog, and comment about how to get a goat to stop kicking on the milking stand. Lilo, you may be the queen of the herd, but I am the queen of the roost. Watch out. I’m not going to give up.

Monday, May 9, 2011

Planting Potatoes

We woke to snow this morning.  Yes, it is May...but that is Central Oregon.  We knew that within a few hours the snow would be melted and we would be stripping off layers to keep cool in the sunshine.

First thing, I went out to deliver eggs to my Monday customers.  Today was a big day for deliveries...thirteen dozen eggs and a quart of goat milk.  I also picked up another customer.  We need more chickens to fill all of these orders.  Luckily, I have a list of egg producers that I can draw on to keep everyone in eggs.  I am also going to be raising the price of a dozen eggs to $4.00 from $3.50.  I just cannot keep up with the cost of fuel and the rising cost of feed.  Everyone I talk with says that $4.00 a dozen to have fresh eggs delivered is a very fair price.  I guess we'll see.  I'm going to send an email to all of my clients that starting next week, we will be charging more.  If people have pre-paid, I will honor the $3.50 price until the credit is gone...then they can choose if they want to continue to buy from me.  If I lose a few customers, I'm confident that I will gain more later...and maybe losing a few will lighten the burden of finding eggs.

Our plan today was to get the potatoes and onions planted.  Only before we could start planting, we needed to learn how to plant potatoes.

I started searching the web for information on the best way to plant a potato.  There were mixed opinions, from throwing the seed potatoes on top of heavy mulch, to digging 12 inch deep trenches and mounding dirt up about 3 feet.  We settled on a more moderate approach - hedging our bets. 

Some of the rows that the plow created were about two feet wide, so we took a pick axe and staggered holes back and forth about every 2 feet.  We continued down the row for twenty holes.  J raked a perpendicular path to delineate where the row ended, and I began placing the white seeds in the holes.  We then each took a side and gently covered the seeds up with crumbly soil.

Potato seeds are strange looking.  They are about the size of half a golf ball.  If you look closely, you may see sprouts coming out of one side.  That is the side you want to place facing up in the hole.  But often, there aren't any sprouts to speak of.  Some websites suggested leaving the seeds out in the sunshine for a couple of days before planting (to encourage them to sprout), but we decided to just plant them and take our chances.  There is also a white powder all over the seeds.  This may just be something that helps to ensure that the seeds don't get too wet while they're in storage.  I wonder if it might also have some nutritional value for the plant once it's in the ground.  Either way, these are seed potatoes, so unlike the ones that look like real potatoes, you do not need to cut them up at all before planting.  They are meant to have the perfect number of eyes for the size of "meat" in the chunk you plant.  We'll see.

By the time we were finished, we had planted 80 seed potatoes, three more rows of carrots, two rows of yellow onions, and a row of lettuce.  Whew.  Although it's not "hard" work, it sure forces you to use muscles that you don't use daily.

This afternoon, we took a break and let ALL of the goats out for a bit.  This was the first time that we had let Asha (our new dairy doe) out with the group.  It was also the first time that we had all of the babies out at once.  It was a bit hectic at first, but the wonderful thing about herd animals, is that they like to stick together.  We all wandered into the grass and brush next to the goat pen and while the kids practiced ollies on the rocks, the grown-ups filled their faces with fresh green pasture.  At one point, I watched one of the babies jump off a rock, "run" across the back of a doe who was eating, and land on the other side.  The doe didn't even look up.

J thought it would be fun to let the little pigs out too, so he left the gate open.  I wasn't so sure.  But as the pigs headed for the gate and J had second thoughts, we knew there was nothing we could do from our vantage point but plan how to get them back in.  One of our friends had said that pigs will always return to the place that they are fed and sleep.  But how long would it take for the pigs to "return" and where would they go in the meantime.

We both walked around the other side of the pen (with 8 goats and two dogs following us), to coerce the pigs back into the pen.  It wasn't easy, but after getting all the goats back in, J was able to push the pigs toward the gate.  I played goalie and kept the goats from leaving the pen while J snuck the pigs in behind me.  Whew.  Don't think we'll try that again.

This evening, we finished stretching the fence for the new pig pen.  It surrounds the teenage chicken pen, so we decided to let the chickens out in it too.  It was another rodeo trying to convince the pigs to run through the chute we created that led from the goat pen to the new pig pen.  The goats had no problem leading the way, and quickly jumping into the chicken shanty (a 4ftx4ft box that is lifted 2 feet off the ground).  At one point, two of the does were in the chicken shanty together...stinkin' goats!

J chased the pigs around for about fifteen minutes.  M tried to help, but the pigs would just run right past him no matter how much he hollered and waved his arms.  I finally put M on "shanty protection" (I didn't want the goats breaking my roost), and I went in with a pig board to help.  With J pushing the pigs from behind and me running the board along the side, we were able to get the pigs to walk through the gates and into the new pen.  They promptly started rooting through the straw for chicken poop.  Yum.  Then we rounded up the goats - pushed them back into their own pen - and closed the gates.

The teenage chickens and the pigs don't seem to have any issues living together.  This may be a great discovery.  The chickens clean up after the pigs very well, and the pigs clean up after the chickens very well.  While our laying hens will free range when they are older, this might be a great set up for the meat chickens.  Once they are big enough to be outside, we can put them in with the young pigs and allow both breeds to benefit from the waste of the other.  Just need to make sure that the chicken feeder, roost, and waterer are strong enough to withstand George and Abraham.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

And speaking of Fencing, Rabbits, and Breeding

Well, my prediction of a sleepless morning was true.  It is very hard to shift from a 6am wake-up call to a leisurely 8am roll-out-of-bed.  I think I was awake from about 6:30am on.

Our plans today were to get the berry garden fenced and then get to work raking rows for the potato and onion crop.  The weather disagreed.  As we headed out to feed in the morning, the clouds looked pretty dark and the wind was blowing.  By the time we were finished feeding, it was downright cold.

Looking out at the pivot through the hailstorm.
We went in to get more coffee and as we looked back outside, it was white.  You couldn't even see the field.  A hailstorm had rolled in and the ground was turning white under these little balls of ice.  I guess we haven't had our last frost yet.

Things cleared for most of the afternoon and in addition to planting three rows of spinach, we were able to work on getting a temporary fence built around the berry garden.  Instead of using the field fence (a commodity that we really want to use carefully), we chose to create a more visual barrier.  We took white fiberglass posts and put them in about every three feet.  We then took insulators and 1/2 inch polytape and created a double line of fencing.  This won't keep anyone out if they want to get in, but we're hoping that it will deter our animals.  There really isn't much to entice them in the berry garden at the moment anyway.  And surrounding the garden are lush rolling hills of grass.  So until we make a permanent fence (preferably when it's not hailing and snowing), we will use this.  We can attach a charger to the fence if the goats decide to ignore it, but a charger won't stop chickens, geese, or ducks.  It wouldn't stop rabbits for that matter.

And speaking of rabbits, our satin rabbit began to kindle yesterday.  I didn't realize that she was pregnant.  Although she had been housed with our buck for the last six months, we had figured that he was too old to produce.  When I went to feed yesterday morning, I found a single kit, dead in the middle of the cage.  I immediately moved the doe into a private cage with a nesting box, but we weren't sure what would happen.

Well, this morning she gave birth to four more kits.  I am not sure if they were stillborn or died immediately after birth, but none of them survived.  They all looked close to full gestation.  Many of the websites that I checked mentioned the fragility of rabbits and that losing an entire litter is not uncommon.  But one thing that I read several times talked about how stillborn litters happen more often when the doe is rebred within 36 hours of the initial breeding.  This most certainly would've taken place with our doe as she was in with the buck permanently.

I'm still surprised that she didn't show me any signs,  She didn't start nesting.  She didn't pull out her fur.  She didn't start burrowing.  There was no indicator that she was pregnant (except for her size, but she is a bit overweight to begin with).

We will keep the two separated from now on unless we intend to breed her.  As much as I know they enjoyed snuggling with each other when she wasn't in heat, I don't want to risk her health by allowing him to breed her constantly.

And speaking of breeding, Hammy Fae has come out of heat and we are confident that Jaws was able to get the job done.  If Hammy is not pregnant this time, we may have to consider whether or not she is able to concieve.  We witnessed several love sessions and by my calculations, we should have piglets around August 27th (three months, three weeks, and three days from now).

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Coop Tour and Planting Berries

Today was Bend's Second Annual Coop Tour.  We were stop number fourteen in a list of 35 options.  We estimate that we had between 80 and 100 people come through from 10am-4pm.  It was fun but exhausting.

The funniest thing was that although this was billed as a Coop Tour, many of our guests got sidetracked with the goats and pigs.  We had to keep showing people where the actual coop was.

There were lots of people to talk with...many interested in having their own chickens.  We sold a dozen eggs (much less than I thought we would).  The kids had a lemonade and cookie stand, but they sold very few items (they weren't outside promoting it much either).  We did make lots of great contacts and hopefully will be able to grow some of our client base through this experience.

The berry garden.
Around noon, the mail delivered a bunch of our plants.  We found time in between talking with guests to plant the entire berry garden (minus the raspberries that are still hardening off).  The total plants came to 12 Everbearing Darrow Blackberries, 3 Patriot Blueberries, and 25 each of Ozark, All Star, Quinalt, and Robinson Strawberries.  Oh, and we planted two rhubarb.  Many of these plants will not produce anything this year, but we see them as an investment for the future.  We planted them in a small plot next to the cold frame.  This is an area that we can easily care for all year round.

We do need to build a fence around this garden...quickly.  Not only do the big goats think that these plants look interesting to nibble on, the geese would like to sample them too.  They aren't really going to eat the plants, but they could do enough damage by dislodging them from their rows.  I am hoping that we can put up a small fence tomorrow.  I will sleep better knowing that nobody can just wander into the garden.

In addition to the berry garden, we raked another section of the big garden and I planted a few rows of beets.  We received all of the onions and potatoes today as well, so we would like to get them in the ground in the next few days.  J is going to do some work on the pivot tomorrow too.  There is something called an "end back" that his dad has on the pivot to keep from flooding the end of the line.  Unfortunately, it's not letting enough water out on the garden.  So J is going to replace these things with the normal sprinkler heads.  That should help with the water in the big garden.

I begged J to leave the baby goats with momma tonight so that I could sleep in tomorrow.  We'll see.  It never seems to work out in my favor.  Something or someone will wake me.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Trimming a Goat's Hooves

Today J and I went over to a gal's farm to trim her goats' hooves.  As kind as we are, this was not simply an act of kindness.  It was a barter.  We trim her 16 goats (including three LARGE STINKY bucks) and she gives us a beautiful registered Alpine yearling doe.

We arrived at about 9:30am ready to go.  She had a couple of tools available to us - a pair of straight trimmers (ours are curved), some horse nippers, and a rasp.  She also had a pretty cool portable headstall that her brother had welded for her.  It attached to the gate and allowed us to work inside the pasture with the goats instead of wrestling each one into the barn.

When you trim a goat's hooves, you generally start at the back.  There is a softer "pad" that creates the heal and it is nice to flatten that part out.  When the hoof grows too long, it folds across the inner sole of the hoof and the goat walks on it.  You have to trim that folded piece in order to see the actual hoof.  So, you slip the trimmers under whatever flap of the outer hoof that has bent over the pad, and trim it off.  Once you've done this, you can usually clean out the mud and gunk from inside the hoof walls and are able to see exactly where you want to trim.

The end goal is to create a flat clean surface that is parallel with the coronary band (where the hoof and the fur meet).  From the side, the hoof will be a rhomboid shape when you are all finished.  Slowly snip the side walls of the hoof down until you start to see a creamy pink color.  This is the healthy new hoof.  If you alternate back and forth between the outer wall and the inner wall, snipping toward the tip (away from the heel), you will end up with a nice clean tip as well.  Be careful not to cut too deep, as the hoof will bleed.

Trimming a hoof, before and after.
 You can see really nicely in the picture the before and after of hoof trimming.  A. The heel needs to be flattened.  B.  The hoof wall has grown so long that it has folded over onto the sole.  C.  The hoof wall is trimmed flat and D.  The sole and the hoof wall create a uniform platform of healthy pink padding.

So, J and I needed to do this on 16 goats.  Some were easy to catch, some were not.  We had a few who would always walk back to the headstall with us, regardless of whether or not they had been caught (they liked the scratches while we trimmed).  We had a couple who threw tamtrums - kicking their feet or pushing forward and back in the headstall.  We even had one throw himself on the ground...looked like a 300 pound toddler with horns.

Many of their hooves were really bad.  We did our best to trim back as far as possible, but a few of them had been allowed to curve so much that we'll have to come back and continue to correct slowly.  We only needed the nippers on a couple of the boers...their hooves were so long and hard the trimmers wouldn't cut through the hoof wall.

Asha - our new Alpine goat.
The last goat we trimmed was our new gal.  Of course, I cut too deep and she bled all over me.  I felt horrible.  We had trimmed everyone else with barely a scrape and I trim our new goat and gouge her sole.  We put stiptic powder on it and the bleeding eventually stopped.  I will watch it for any signs of infection.  Part of the trick was that the Alpine hooves are much narrower than the boer (the type I am used to).  You have to be extremely careful to stay shallow when trimming the hoof wall or you will catch the sole.

After 5 straight hours of trimming hooves, we loaded Asha (the new goat) into the back of the Expedition and drove home.  I took the owner's advice and downed a few Advil.  I think I'll feel the workout in the morning.  It was certainly a great way to get very comfortable with trimming hooves.  Kind of a trial by fire, if you will.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Planting Notes

Quick note so that I don't forget when I planted things.  Yesterday, I planted one package of Prizehead Leaf Lettuce.  45 days to harvest.  We will plant lettuce every three weeks.  I also planted one package of Nantes Coreless Carrots.  70 days to harvest.  We will plant carrots every five days as their growing season is SO long.  I also planted White Bunching Onions.  60 days to harvest.  We will plant these onions every five days as well.

Today I planted one package of Scarlet Globe Radishes.  25 days to harvest.  We will plant radishes every three weeks, just like the lettuce.  I am taking the kids fishing this afternoon, but hopefully will plant beets and spinach later today.  Will update when it's done.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Ready to Plant

Raking.  Raking.  Raking.  I feel like all that I do is spend my days raking.  But that is how you create a garden.  By raking.

In the berry garden by the cistern, I have been creating widely spaced rows for the raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, and strawberries.  I have done the entire thing by hand.  J tilled the dirt first, but he couldn't use the plow on this plot.  It was too short to be successful.  So I raked it.  When I am done, I will have eight or nine 12' rows spaced about two feet apart...easy to walk between.

In the vegetable garden, J has started to use the plow.  He couldn't do the whole thing today as we had a bit of a leak in the irrigation overflow and the ground was too wet to plow.  He will finish plowing tomorrow, and then we will begin raking.  The plow isn't exactly right for our garden.  It roughs in the rows, but we will have to define them with the rake by hand.

We will work in 12' sections, adding a perpendicular walking space between sections.  This will allow us to define where certain plants are, and also work smaller sections so we don't feel overwhelmed to get it all done at once.  My goal for tomorrow (after J finishes the overall plow lines) is to get one 12' sections raked and planted with carrots, radishes, lettuce, and beets.  These are the first plants to go in because they can handle the frost - in fact they prefer to have cold ground.  In Central Oregon, gardeners do not consider themselves to be "after the frost" until May 31st - and that's generous.  You still have to assume that you will have frosts after that date, but most will not be super hard frosts.

J says he thinks that he will learn what boredom really means tomorrow.  I honestly cannot wait to get seeds in the ground.  It is exciting to me.  Everything except for the raking.

Running Low on Eggs

It's a tricky business selling farm eggs.  People expect to get the same number each week, but the chickens don't always agree.  I've made preparations so that I have enough eggs - purchasing some from a friend and re-selling them with a small mark up.  It's worked pretty well...until today.

I called to see if I could come pick up a few dozen eggs for my deliveries this week and they told me that they'd sold all of their eggs.  Whaaaat?  They usually have 10 dozen just sitting there in the fridge.  Now I know that we weren't exclusive, and it certainly makes them more money if they don't have to sell through me, but what am I supposed to do?  I have to deliver five dozen eggs tomorrow and I have 1 1/2 dozen in the fridge.

Soooo...I understand the relationship now.  I cannot expect them to have eggs available to me.  I need to be more proactive in my egg gathering.  I called a few farm owners who listed eggs for sale on craigslist and think I can cover tomorrow.  Then I will just set up a weekly purchase from them instead of the other farm.  Honestly, it'll be better money for us because as it is, we make $.50 per dozen and with this new source, we'll make $1.00 per dozen.  Doubling our profit sounds good.

I don't feel good about not telling these people I will be reselling their eggs.  But J doesn't think we need to tell them.  Once we buy the eggs, they are ours.  With the other farm, we didn't pay for the eggs until after we sold them...so in essence, the eggs still belonged to the other farm until they had been sold.  They deserved to know where their eggs were.

I guess that is business.  I will need to find several suppliers as I have a two week total of 14 dozen eggs to sell.  Right now most of my hens are moulting and I am only getting 4-5 eggs per day.  We cannot keep up alone.  I do have teens that will be laying by the end of the summer, and babies coming this week that will be laying by winter, but until then, I need an egg supplier.