The Chicken Coop Dilemma

I am sentimental. I admit it. I may just be one of the most sentimental female souls living in this old farmhouse. As we continue to work on packing, some parts of giving up the myriad of material possessions that we own have been easy, others, not so much so. I keep trying to weigh everything from an eternal scale perspective; "keep trying," those are the key words.

Letting go of the critters last summer was challenging, especially at first with a few of the favorites, but surprisingly, their absence in our lives is just alright. Sorting closets and junk drawers has been liberating, thoughts of divulging in a plate smashing party have been discussed and then quickly passed by, and the check from the recycling center has been a bonus to this whole moving thing.

But the chicken coop has become a dilemma.

From its history of being built out of the old log barn left overs, to the memories of hammering away with the kids to finish the construction of it, to the necessity of needing it for the dozen chickens who will be moving with us, the batten board artifact is something that I can't fathom leaving behind. Talk about souvenirs: it's a little larger than the trunks full of childhood memories and the totes full of home school projects.

At this moment there are many farmers, who, by their blood relation feel indebted to assist in the moving of the structure, are scratching their heads about how to lift and haul the beast. I am just hoping and praying that my craftsmanship isn't left splattered on some back road between here and the lake view property.

Oh, life just keeps getting more and more interestinger.

A Woman Can Hope

The fact that we have over a dozen chickens left on the homestead, and have not collected one single egg in over a month, must be living proof that we have made the right decision to leave the farm life behind. The old biddies have a good excuse to have slowed down on their production, after all, a chicken can only be expected to lay for so long. Lucky for them they are grandfathered in due to their good looks, but the new pullets are dangerously close to being labeled as free loaders. Six month old egg machines that don't lay eggs have begun to raise this retired farming wife's suspicions. Our hope is to bring the flock (preferably an egg laying flock), chicken coop and all, to the new place next Spring. Until then, it looks like fake, white store bought eggs for all.

The Busy Season

We wake up tired these days and go to bed even more tired yet. The sun starts shining earlier, and sets later, and our bodies believe that they have to keep up with it. As long as that orbiting ball of fire is making its trek across the sky we assume that there must still be time to finish one more project.

The last of the seven bottle calves are close to being weaned. The vast difference between the couple months of their births making the red and white steer appear tiny in contrast to its more mature counterparts. The Black Angus are dwarfed under the Holsteins tall, lanky forms, their growth appearing outward rather than up.

There are still five does milking, with a total of thirteen goats in all. Too many bucks make up the lot of them, with one Craigslist reply away from reducing our herd. Soon it will be weaning time for the kids as well, which puts another item on the never ending list: more goat fencing.

Our young replacement pullets are thriving, and the new clutch of Silkie chicks are protected well under the wings of their possessive momma. One little black fluff ball doesn't realize it is a Light Brahma mix  that was adopted into the Bantam family when we snuck some extra eggs under the broody hen. Soon it will tower over its siblings.

The garden is growing weeds faster than edible plants it seems, and if we don't catch up on our daily barrage we may just have to give up. Using all manual labor, busy hands digging deep in the sandy soil to remove pesky roots, makes for buff muscles and nice farmers tans.

Several new fruit trees are growing well- four peach and another pear, plus some Saskatoon blueberries that the deer seem to have acquired a taste for which continue to remind me that tree fencing needs to be wrote on that list as well. We are attempting blueberries yet again, hoping for a freezer full of them one year. There may be at least a taste for everybody in a few days if we can keep the birds away from them.

Overall, it's been another season of missing. Intensely missing my son. Longing for eternity to begin.

Almost too tired to even grieve, the pain still refuses to end. Flashbacks enjoy popping into my weary brain lately, attacking when I have little resolve to fight them off. The balance of living before the accident and after is continuous. Life goes on. A mother's heart doesn't want to. Joy is rarely ever bereft of the longing. Laughter only hides the scar, still too fresh to ignore. Somehow living here, longing to be there. Finding purpose in one more calf bottle, pulling one more weed, storing up one more treasure, praying one more prayer for all these young souls that surround me, hoping for hope, waiting for what is not yet.

I continue to be reminded that the year of the Lord's favor will come. He will:

"Provide for those who grieve in Zion-

to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes,

the oil of gladness in the morning,

and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.

They will be called oaks of righteousness,

a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor."

Isaiah 61:3

1 Thessalonians 4:13-14 tells me to not grieve like those without hope, or even to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. I believe that Jesus died and rose again and also that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. The familiar words almost become rote in my tired state. I have repeated them so often that it becomes hard to make them exciting lately. I pray for God to wake me up to the gospel again, remembering those same words being uttered just before the accident.

Eternity.

I stop and ponder the word again. Eternity. Going insane wondering what Trent is doing there, wondering why mine is taking so long to begin. Wondering what to do in the meantime. Begging that my children would all be found there in Heaven together.

Spring Ducks

Farming must be genetic. Being raised on a catch-all farm with a collection of critters that did little more than to satisfy the beckoning of my father's soul of the need to have them surrounding him, the homesteading gene was passed along strongly. Of the five girls in our family only my sister and I inherited it, and in our home only one, possibly two, kiddos seem to have a knack and love for raising animals like their grandfather did.

Ever the farmer and business man, Cole ordered some ducklings from the local Co-op. They were purchased with the intent being for resale, although I've heard much begging to keep "just two." Nope, we've tried ducks over the years and there is just no place around here for them. Granted we have a pond, but being that pond freezes over in our cold Wisconsin winters means those same ducks have to house with the chickens in the below zero weather - a mess the chickens don't appreciate, either. So, we'll be content to enjoy their peeping and waddling antics for the next couple of days while they grace our basement with their cuteness.

Even if he doesn't make his fortunes on them the excitement, plus the memories made, were worth more than any green printed paper bills could ever pay for. What would the cost be to look in the rear view mirror and see all those smiling faces? Little girls wearing shorts and cowgirl boots, sneaking the favorite farm cat with for a van ride, giggling over baby ducks pecking your fingers, and being happy to do chores: priceless.

Babies, Babies, Babies

 Our first baby goat of the year, born to Dixie.

A tiny, spunky little girl who has us hoping for a "doe year."

Two other mommas are due any day now.

 

 Cole's baby bunnies. Such sweetness!

 

Six baby chicks peeping in the basement,

enough to supplement our older flock of hens,

and more eggs in the incubator.

Hatching Chicks

Throughout the cold winter months there has been an old, rigged up microwave oven that sits on the cherry laminate floor right next to my dining room table. Its light blinking off and on, off and on, keeping time with the thermostat that was installed to keep it at a consistent, toasty 99.5 degrees. It truly is the latest in decorating style - every old farmhouse should have one. The cat even likes it, and has claimed it as a warm place to take his nap.

After three impatient weeks, and many sessions of turning eggs, it's so fun to hear the "cheep, cheeping" from the old brown box. The noise leads us to inspecting eggs looking for pip holes, and putting various ones up to our ears to listen for the little scratching sounds made by a chick gearing up for the battle to begin his life.

That battle has been a losing one around here lately. Our Light Brahma's must be too old to hatch healthy babies, as they have trouble getting out of their shelled domain. The plain Blacks have been strong, though, and we have been rewarded with a couple of fluffy chicks to add to the clutch of Cole's Silkies in the basement.

Today is Due Day for the first of the expecting goats. One of the does refused her breakfast of grain, which is a good sign that labor could be starting soon. Chicks, and kids, and if the beef prices have come down to reasonable rates, soon new calves. Such a fun, busy time on the farm.

Farming

Blogger is being a bugger. For some reason they won't let me upload any new pictures today, so I had to dig through the archives and use some old photos. I've read that others are having troubles recently, too.

 

Anybody have any advice???



 

 

Kidding season is fast approaching. In about two weeks we will officially be on "goat watch." Doing routine checks of back ends and udders and ligaments until it drives the girls and us crazy. My favorite time of the farming year: baby season. The delivery of goat kids ushers in milking time, which also means we get to look forward to raising bottle calves from all that rich milk. Jacob (on the left) is our main herd sire this year. He comes from Brenda's farm in Missouri.

 

Dreaming about lots more colorful kids like last February, except hoping for a girl year this time around. The little guy on the left is our second herd sire this year. Any locals looking for purebred Nubian goats let me know! 

 

Having all that good goats milk also means more soap making. This crazy soap dream has exploded into an obsession and a small income to help keep the farm running. There are a couple of soap making classes scheduled in the next two months, plus craft fairs and expo's to prepare for, but no milk in my freezer. I've been adding to my wish list of scents, colors and designs plus am excited to try out some new soap recipes~ now I just need some milk. And talking about soap, this was a sweet encouragement: Backyard Farming Guide.

 

In other farms news: we are anxiously waiting for chicks to hatch, both from the incubator and from Cole's Silkie hens who have decided that the middle of January would be a great time to set on some eggs. There are also 150 little pullet peepers on their way from the hatchery for resale this spring. Baby season is almost upon us~ I can't wait!

 

Chickens, in Sepia

  

 

I was going to do a post about chickens. Because we have a cute little chicken coop, with windows and curtains and a covered porch and fancy chickens to lay their brown speckled eggs in it. And those chickens perch on the recycled rafters and scare the heebie-jeebies out of me every time I go down too late in the afternoon to do chores and have to collect eggs underneath them as they decide whether they should send a little present my way, or if dive bombing the unsuspecting farmers wife in their quest for their supper would suffice.

 

But then Obama won, again. As we sat watching the polls, rooting out loud for our candidate, and then came back after some chips and a book, to the shocking announcement that we are in for a repeat of the past four years. Our hearts sank as we watched what America was celebrating, what she has chosen as her gods. Our "golden calf" has appeared from the fire after a day of electoral votes. Surprise, surprise.

 

And then my feathers were ruffled again when I read another sermon outline for our group of young students that focuses more on man than on God. I have been accused of being a little bit too passionate about the gospel; that I am only so fervent because my son just died.

 

I am passionate about the gospel because my son just died.

 

I don't think we will be disappointed in God's glory when we see it first hand. I don't think we will think that sin is a small deal when we face our Maker and have no where to hide and no good excuses to ignore Him.

 

We desperately need to know that we are sinners and will one day stand before a Holy God and give account for our lives, some of us sooner than others. Scripture is primarily meant to reveal who God is, and secondly to reveal that we as a creation are sinful and have no hope aside from Jesus' atonement on the cross. There is a great danger to focus on ourselves and primarily about living a good life here, rather than being prepared for eternity.

 

I challenge you to read some of the Scripture verses that God led me to, as I was in His Word studying for tonight's lesson, that talk about who we are as mankind:

We are sinners: Romans 3:23

We are dead in our sin: Ephesians 2:1

We are God's enemies: Romans 5:10

We are the ones who crucified Jesus: Luke 22:63-23:43

We would rather turn away from God than have Him: Romans 1:21-23

God said that He will not yield His glory (Isaiah 48:11), and that glory will ultimately be revealed through Jesus (Heb 1:3). If we are Christians our whole lives will be pointing to that glory, especially through the gospel message (the grace and forgiveness poured out on sinners through Jesus' sacrifice on the cross), as the Holy Spirit is working in us towards that same reason. If our lives are not portrayals of Christ, as seen by our longing for Scripture, obedience to God' word, and repentance of sins, it is because we are not saved and we have God's wrath to fear on judgment day. Salvation is only found in Jesus Christ and His work on the cross to forgive sinful mankind.

 

I was talking to a Christian friend the other day who looked at me like I have a hole in my head when I tried to convey to her my difficulty of living here, and how everything seems to be so insignificant compared to eternity.

 

What goes with us? What matters? How does that look lived out?

 

To live like we believed what God said, to store up treasures in heaven, to count our days ... I don't know how that looks. I know that Trent knows, and I know that God said His word will endure forever, and I know that one day I will stand before Him to give an account. Even as a Christian, He will demand an account (1 Corinthians 3:12-14).

 

The minas are His (Luke 19:11-27), the talents are His (Matthew 25:14-20), the days are His (Job 14:5). Even this election, and those chickens, are His.

Free Rangers

The worst thing about summer flip-flop season is free ranging chickens who are attracted to red toenail polish. Shoo!! Shoo!!

A Day Late and a Couple Dollars Short -or-April Counts

If anything, I am late. And so it is, never failing, the April counts are in ... ahem ... on May 10.

Egg totals (from 15 laying hens, two of whom thought they would brood several rotten eggs for a few weeks and receive free room and board with absolutely nothing to show for it, poor bitties): 202 eggs, almost 17 dozen, averaging 7.48 eggs a day, all this considering that the farmers wife forgot to record three days in the busy month of April.

Goats Milk (from 6 goats at the beginning of the month, down to 4 goats mid-month, with one milking a day from does who also raised their babies): 54 1/2 gallons of farm fresh goats milk (I only missed marking one day, five days we didn't milk), averaging 2.3 gallons a day. The milk was used to finish raising the three holstein calves (that are now officially weaned! Yippee!), as well as lots going into the freezer for future soap making. I even tried my hand again at making cheese!

Lots of baby kittens were born~ twelve to be exact. Any reasonable offers are being accepted ~ they're "freer" if you take several ~ and I may even pay you to take some.

Ten more baby bunnies were born to Cole's prosperous farm business.

Several pullets were sold to many happy Craigslisters.

The eight pigs are fat and happy eating their cheese and whey.

And now, after I feed all those hungry critters, I'm going to start catching up on the May calendar.

March Counts

Once upon a time I used to keep detailed farm records via blog posts of all the productivity around here. It served as a good way to remember just when the goat kids were born, or when the calves should be weaned. So .... in the hopes of it being a monthly occurence once again, the counts, tallies and farm news are in for March 2012.

The most recent excitement on the farm has been the addition of eight new pigs as of yesterday. Although the idea of raising a sow and farrowing our own cute little piglets is appealing, the idea of castrating them is not, so we are content to bring them home in the back of the truck ready to eat all the left-over Dairy cheese and whey (plus garden and table scraps) that they want until they reach an average weight of 250# and head off to the locker plant to fill our freezers as well as those of some other happy customers.

Sadly, Boaz the pup has found a new home. My heart strings nearly made me keep two big labs, but the pocket-book strings realized that we really don't need to feed two big labs. Plus, I have hopes of actually reclaiming the couch one day. Sigh. Those eyes....

Cole's farm was blessed with seven new additions this week when his bunny surprised him a week earlier than expected with babies. Of all the kids, Cole is the one who loves farming and critters. It helps that he is also a hard worker and financially wise (and I think God just enjoys blessing him) which has enabled him to build a little farm enterprise of rabbits and Silkie chickens. He has been my right hand chicken man for several years, and has outdone me on chick sales already this spring with his intuition of what the chicken-buying public wants.

We are watching Lightning and Sassy pretty close this spring. Last year it was on the agenda to get a certain stud colt gelded, but due to being otherwise preoccupied, it never happened. Which leaves us guessing .... are they or aren't they expecting??? Hmm.... lot's of fresh green grass or baby bulges???

The three big steers are growing well. We have ended up already with pasture dilemma's this month as we have one too many variety of critters and one too few pastures for them all. The steers are fed supplemental grain, which means they can't be with the horses. The goats could run with the steers, but then they climb in the round bale feeder and make a mess in the hay, not to mention that the steer pasture fencing is not all goat proof yet, which means there are goats in my yard on a regular basis. Then there are water issues, who to fence where so that everybody has access to automatic waterers. Fencing is on the list for the sixth year in a row as we continue to figure out a way for all these critters to co-exist.

The three bottle calves in the barn are doing great. Their ears are still going the right direction, which is always a good sign. I haven't done the math yet to know the exact figures if it is actually cheaper to raise two goats per year to feed one calf for six weeks, but I do know that it's cheaper than burying dead calves due to scours from raising them on milk replacer as we did for so many years.

And talking about those goats .... I think I may have too many. As the numbers have changed so often in the past couple of months I tend to lose track of just how many I have in any given week. This week it's eight babies, six milking does, two (hopefully still) expecting does, and one handsome buck, which equals 17 goats. Some of those babies will be finding new homes in the next couple of months after they are weaned, we will keep a couple of the bucks for breeding this fall, as well as keeping the doelings to build up our herd as we have a couple of does that will probably be culled next season.

March milk total: 68 1/4 gallons (plus the spilled milk, and the three days that we forgot to record). Wow! Sixty eight GALLONS of goats milk from one milking a day to sustain three calves, plus raise their own kids~ now that's a work force in action!

Besides the joy we get from raising these critters, we have also strived to make the farm animals profitable enough to at least cover their own feed costs. The goats provide in several ways: kids for resale, milk to raise the calves on, milk for soap (for family use plus soap making classes) and cheese for the Fair competitions. As odd as it sounds, we don't drink the milk. I really, really wish we could acquire a taste for it, but after all these years we just haven't been able to. Maybe after calf season we'll try again.

We can't forget the chickens. From 13 Light Brahma hens, and a couple of Silkie hens, we gathered a total of 267 eggs (besides the three days we forgot to record); just over 22 dozen eggs. Plus, we raised 200 chicks. Now I officially know why I have been so tired. This super busy season of farm life will slow down soon as all of the babies are getting bigger and will require less hands-on care before too long, and just about the time that happens we will be gearing up to plant the garden. Aaahhh.... Farm life!

The Insanity

Life.

It just has a way of keepin' on, even if you can't keep up with it.

It has been crazy busy around here lately. A birthday and an anniversary and purposely scheduled craziness might have something to do with it, but still .... crazy busy.

Five of the six poodle-pie puppies have found new homes, which means that I have five less poodle-pie puppy messes to clean up every morning. Grace has gone from one puppy to the other making them her favorites as they all leave: first D-O-G (said phonetically, Deogie) and Licorice left, then Cheesenout, and Rosie, and yesterday Chocolate, leaving behind little Boaz who is doing his best job to convince us that we do need a goofy little yellow lab. Sigh .... Rob is doing his best to stand his ground amongst all of us animal lovers.

The farm is busy, too, with six milking does now. Martha delivered last week~ another buckling. We have decided that next year must be our doe year as we are over run with bucks right now. This new guy brings the total up to 6 bucks and 2 does. Micah donned him "Stripey" as the rest of us were all pretty much named out. Lord willing, pictures to come as soon as I can spare a hand to carry the camera down to the barn amongst the three calf bottles, water jugs, egg basket and milking supplies.

Yes, we also got our bottle calves. It is more of a "going through the motions" event this year with little to no fan-fare over the black and white buggers. Again, Lord willing, pictures to come soon, and I'll try to write a detailed post of how we raise them on goats milk in the near future.

And then there are the chickens: our egg laying girls have been loving the sunshine and have been laying us lots of farm fresh eggs. In an attempt to get back on track with actually farming we have been recording eggs again. In the last ten days of February we brought in 74 eggs from 16 hens. Good job girls!

Our pullet chicks are doing great, and there are some very happy Craigslist people who bought several over the weekend. We still have some little ones in the basement waiting to graduate to the big outside coop, and some more six week old pullets waiting for homes if anybody needs them. Overall the chicken business is good for so early in the spring.

The weather has been crazy, too. We had the biggest snowstorm of the season a couple of weeks ago, and in the past two days it has been so warm that all the snow has melted. The kids dug out the shorts and flip-flops today and even took out the duck boat on the pond to celebrate.

I bought roses. This, in itself, was a significant event because it's one of those things that we used to do when Trent was here. As a reward for making it through Aldi's with two overflowing shopping carts, we would take turns picking out bouquets. When Grace saw the flower displays last week on our grocery shopping trip she asked if she could pick some out .... I woke up from my stupor enough to say yes.

Insane is how I have felt lately. If somebody would just find me a straight jacket in a cute brown and pink pattern I could be content sitting in a padded room rocking back and forth. And then don't wake me up until it's my turn to go to heaven.

The crying doesn't seem to do any good, so I have opted for the insanity behind curtain number three these days. I mean, really, how else does one wrap their brain around the fact that their son is not here? Thoughts of God and His glory and heaven consume me unrelentingly. And for the millionth time I ask: How do you go on living here? What do you live for? When you know that this is all temporary, what is worth investing in?

It's worse than having to cook three meals a day only to have it all eaten in moments and then have to wash the dishes three times a day only to get up and know you have to do it do it again tomorrow and the next day and the next day and the next day.

Oh~ and the tiny push that sent me cascading into the insanity mode: somebody stole Trent's identity and claimed him on their taxes. Yes, we were informed that we would have to paper file our taxes and prove to the government that our dead son was really our dead son rather than somebody else's dead son who was claiming that our dead son was their dead son. Uh-huh. Now you see why that cute little straight jacket might not be so bad? Who would even think up these things?

So, I humour myself with barn chores twice a day: feed the calves, feed the goats, feed the chicks, feed the calves, feed the goats, feed the chicks. It's cheap therapy.

Farm Stuff

Oh, that's right . . . we are farmers. As Grace has been praying so often for me lately, I am trying to find my joy again. Farming has been more therapy than joy this past year: a good reason to get my sorry self out of the house and do something constructive. All my well laid out plans for worldly success has ceased to be enough, and I have just been in survival mode. Rob and I have committed to no major life changes (we've been very tempted, but have stayed the course) at this point, knowing that grief does crazy things to you. So I continue to fight to find my joy in what used to bring great joy: kids, horses, goats, simply living. These cute little critters have helped lately. I'm slowly remembering why we dared to attempt to make this dream come true five years ago.
We now have seven surviving goat kid's: 5 bucklings and 2 doelings. Cole and I have started milking five does in the mornings and are getting a measly gallon-and-a-quarter a day. If we had been better farmers and started milking right away the girls would have been doubling that amount ... Yeesh! I'm surprised the earth hasn't opened right up and swallowed me for all the grumbling I've been doing around here lately. Grumble, grumble, grumble. Grumble that the coffee doesn't taste good, grumble that the puppies bark all night, grumble that I have four kids and an old farmhouse in the middle of a long {unbelievably easy, nearly tropical} Wisconsin winter. Finding myself on my backside looking up at the evening sky after slipping on the ice helped changed the grumbling into thankfulness for not having a broken leg last night. 1,000 blessings here I come.

One first-timer doe is due this weekend: Jacob's first offspring~ I can't wait! Actually, I forgot about the poor little doe being due, as she is the only one expecting this month (unless, of course, I miscalculated the other two first-timer doe's due dates, which is very possible.) If all goes well, and Lord willing, we will hope to add three Holstein bottle-calves to the farm next week. They will be raised off of goats milk, and unless milk production increases dramatically, some supplement milk-replacer.

Chickens ... now that's where the farm money is.

Our first batch of 100 chicks have graduated out of the basement and into Cole's chicken coop with a heat lamp, leaving the newest 100 little chicks in the basement to get off to a good start.

These chicks will all be raised for resale (except for a few replacement hens for us) as egg layers, unless of course Rob's nightmare comes true and we become the next "Egg and I" story with 600 chickens this summer. Poor man to have to live with a woman who's dreams consist of critters, and more critters.