Chick Days

 The first hatch of the year, a baby turkey.  I suspect Shuckle is a girl, giving her call, but it will be interesting to see!

Until next time, remember, this is not paradise.  It's Purgatory Ranch.

Too-Early Spring

As it is supposed to drop to 26 F tonight, these little bits of growth may all end up frozen, but on the day I took the pictures, it was gorgeous.

Rose leaves...

 Daffodils...

 Plum buds...

 Willow green...
I love the way green creeps over this tree until, suddenly, it's full of leaves!

 Strutting tom, named Effingham Sandwich...
It's a long story.  He likes to show off for me, but he stalks the rest of the family and scares them.  He may not last past this summer.

 Buzzing bees...
I'm ridiculously grateful that the bees survived the winter, as we are new bee-tenders.

Until next time, remember, this is not paradise.  It's Purgatory Ranch.

The World Turns...

Feeding chickens, free-ranging turkeys, managing weeds, and being tired...

In the last few weeks, we've named the remaining turkeys: Effingham Sandwich, Christmas, and Thanksgiving.  Effingham has become a little aggressive to everyone but me, so turkey chores rest solidly with me.  I open the coop in the morning and round them up in the afternoon.  Last night, in preparation for a brutal cold front (FINALLY), James and I moved the turkeys to the old guinea coop.  Turkeys are not small animals, so James had quite a task to wrestle all three.  Now they'll stay cooped for a week or two, to familiarize them with their new home, before we try letting them wander again.

The chickens are moving closer to their stationary winter homes.  Egg production has dropped dramatically with the shorter days, and one flock has chosen this rather cold time to molt.  It looks like Armageddon in their coop from the number of feathers.

James mowed down the weeds in the strawberry patches.  I'm afraid many of the strawberries died over the summer, since I couldn't keep up with the weeding.  Next year, God willing, we will mulch thoroughly, replant as needed, and manage better.  The three big kids are big enough to weed, so next year that will be part of their morning chores.

A happy and blessed Thanksgiving to you, in case I forget to blog next week.  Support your local farms and grow some of your own food!

Until next time, remember, this is not paradise.  It's Purgatory Ranch.

State of the Farm

What is there to tell you?

We have plenty of frozen chickens looking for bellies to fill.  All but one frozen turkey is claimed.

Garlic planting is truly, abysmally late this year.  There has been too much for James to do and not enough evenings (he and the big kids are in taekwando two nights a week and he teaches at the local college one night a week).  The plan is this weekend.  It's a good thing this year's harvest was beautiful and we have plenty of fresh garlic to enjoy.

Tonight we shifted more chickens.  With hatching new flocks, weeding out the bad in old flocks, and needing to retire a chicken tractor, we've had all kinds of moves.  Four of our oldest hens are now in with the teenagers. Unfortunately, we had to butcher Aragorn, our best rooster, because he was tearing up his ladies.  That's a no-no in a land where roosters are expendable.  Sadly, a juvenile rooster perished shortly after being introduced to his own flock.  I don't know why, since he didn't show signs of injury.  Our oldest chicken tractor will hit the recycle pile this winter, and next spring James will construct a new one.

The summer's downpours did a number on our soil fertility, and I'm not sure how many strawberry plants survived.  They're currently invisible beneath the weeds, and I haven't found a good weeding routine.

The weather is (finally, slightly) cooler.  There's plenty of clean up this fall in preparation for a smaller farm next year.  We may not raise any meat chickens and instead focus on turkeys.  There are big trips in store for next summer, which makes the garden hard to keep.

Until next time, remember, this is not paradise.  It's Purgatory Ranch.

Gobble, Gobble, Gobble

Today was our annual turkey butchering day.  We started in June with 10 heritage turkeys, six of which died.  We added five generic white turkeys from Atwood's, so we ended this fall with nine turkeys. Two hens and a Tom are being overwintered in the hopes of hatching eggs next spring.

Six turkeys met the chopping block as well as our new chicken plucker.  We once borrowed a plucker and otherwise have always plucked by hand.  Oh, the agony.  Last year, James was ready to give up on butchering because of the plucking.  This year, we had six turkeys cleaned and bagged in less than two hours (with three helpers).  In addition, five roosters, some belonging to friends, were cleaned.

I'm happy to say the coops are quieter and my chores are shortening up for the winter season.  The turkeys, free rangers, were defecating all over the sidewalk, spying on me (Momma turkey) from the front windows, pecking at siding, and otherwise becoming a neighborhood nuisance, so everyone will appreciate a quieter flock.

Until next time, remember, this is not paradise.  It's Purgatory Ranch.

The Week in Review

Planting... Peppers and sweet potatoes.  I sprouted the sweet potatoes myself this year, for the first time, and am pleased I made the effort.  The starts are much better than the slimy starts I've received in the mail in the past.

Harvesting... Strawberries!  Tonight, we picked a gallon bucket full.  I see jam and jelly making in our future.  The asparagus is about done.  Eggs are steady, but we're fighting a few egg-eaters in both coops.  Grr!

Growing... The garlic is gigantic, and the bulbs are shaping up nicely.  Our corn didn't come up, so it looks like no sweet corn this year.  The meat chicks are in the ugly stage and are nearly ready to split into two coops to give everyone more room.

New... Turkeys!  We picked up six turkeys last night.  So far, they all look good.

The rain has been glorious.  Mucky, but glorious.  A downpour this morning delivered another .25."

Until next time, remember, this is not paradise.  It's Purgatory Ranch.

As the Sun Sets

JoJo loves books.

Tomorrow, these turkeys will be in the freezer.

First day of preschool.  Craziness.
And this kid is HILARIOUS.  He wore this shirt because he wanted to make his classmates laugh.

Found outside today.
The wind is mighty.

Beauty is...

What we've been up to...

It's the time of year for canning.  This year, James took the kids peach picking while I stayed home with a feverish JoJo.  He bought 128 pounds of peaches.  Ouch.  So I've canned peach jam, peaches, honey spiced peaches, peach salsa, and peach BBQ sauce.  Jars and jars, boxes and boxes, days and days of peaches.  I still have two boxes of peach jars to haul to the basement, but I'm quite happy with our fruit preservation this year.  I have bruschetta and tomato sauce waiting to be wiped off, labeled, and also carried to the basement.

James found this wine, perfect for our bruschetta-in-a-jar

Apples from the neighbors are ripening slowly.  I'm okay with the "slowly" part, as I am tired.  The garden is slowing also.  While I wish I had canned more tomatoes, I am content to study my full shelves and ignore the problem of empty ones for this year.

Our chicks have been moved onto grass for the first time today.  They are busy exploring and learning how to drink out of a nipple waterer.

We received our beef share from our 40 acres.  Boy, howdy, do I feel rich when I open the freezer.  We are backed with beef and chicken, all local and raised as we desire.  The freezer is additionally stuffed with blueberries we picked from a local farm.

Turkeys will be ready to butcher in the coming month.  I will admit, given how messy they are compared to chickens, and how much water they drink, I'm ready to have them gone.  I need my chores shortened so I can start preparing for the baby.

We attended our last farmer's market last weekend.  It was a lousy showing, due to weather and declining interest as school approaches, but it gave my Assistant a chance to complete a little Christmas shopping with me.  The year, overall, was successful in my view.  Next year, we need to grow more sweet red onions and zucchini.  No more peppers for sale, though, as they did not sell well.

Then there are our fabulous kids, of whom JoJo is currently the most precocious.  But that, my friends, is a story for another time.

Until next time, remember, this is not paradise.  It's Purgatory Ranch.

The Fourth Day

"And God said, 'Let the water teem with living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the vault of the sky.'” Gen. 1:20

DG here. Remember when we were thwarted by Bureaucrats? Our Purgatory Ranch (PR) future was torn in two. One family would build at PR, and the other must cast out into the deep! So I slunk back to suburbia, back to my rock that I can crawl under and brood. (C.f.: Suess's Onceler and His Lurkem) But then, a wonderful opportunity came along, an opportunity to make Purgatory Ranch better by expanding and deepening its community. And behold, a new ranch was born.

My family has purchased 10 acres approximately 4 miles from PR proper. Nearly everything we own is a castoff, scavenged, adopted (kids and animals as you'll see) or bought used. Thus, our humble 10 acres is dubbed "Second Hand Ranch" (SHR). Think of it as the staging point for PR, and its little sister to the northwest.

While this blog is still about Purgatory ("Remember..."), every once and a while we will give you a glimpse of life at SHR. It's like Tanto's side-plot to the Lone Ranger. Which brings us to the Birds.

Our Plan: Slowly build up a homestead. God's Plan: Let there be chickens. And other flying crap.

We heard tell of some animals that were for sale at a bargain basement price. A friend of a friend was moving back into the city, and needed to cast off some flying stock. Chickens? Cheap? We were interested. We drove by the seller's farm and entered... an avian sideshow.

I will attempt to capture this in the pristine typeset of blogger.com. The "chickens" of our naive imagination had now transfigured before our eyes into a pole barn full of feathered friends. For half a Benjamin, we were to receive 7 Bantam chickens, 2 Guineas, 2 Turkeys, 2 Ducks, and 1 Goose. Daunted but not repulsed, we meekly said we'd take them, and I retreated to rally logistics. At no time did I ask myself, "Self, what in the #$%^@& are we going to do with Turkeys, Ducks, and a Goose?" To quote John Candy's character from Canadian Bacon, "There's a time to think, and a time to act. And this is no time to think!"

We returned the next week, armed with 7 dog carriers and reinforcements. The dog carriers were for the birds and the reinforcements, as it turned out, were to heckle. I was wearing work gloves, sturdy boots, and the cloak of naivete'. The birds, docile when being viewed previously, turned malignant upon my approaching their enclosure. The goose was mostly bark, but the turkeys? The turkeys were vile. Also, there was (magically) a third gobbler. Bigger than the others. Where did he come from? The coop was the inside of the northern quarter of a tall Wick-style lean-to, with chicken wire running to the rafters. It looked a lot like Thunderdome.

There was some discussion of whom to take first. My dad offered some sage advice, in the hypothetical sense. HE wasn't going in there! Biggest first, we decided. I entered the Arena. I reached for the nearest duck and it was ON. Like Donkey Kong.

What ensued was a grand spectacle. Feathers, expletives, birds, rocks, and poop flew. The general tactic devolved to:
1. Pick a bird
2. Chase it until it gets cornered
3. Smash it down and pin its wings
4. Run to the nearest available dog carrier
5. Jam it in

At first I was trying to be gentle. After gently chasing burds and only succeeding in scaring them, I went for shock and awe. After a few chickens, guineas, and a duck, I learned to hold me hands and arms over my head, walking like Frankenstein. This apparently scares them and prevents them from flying because you look so freakishly tall. They mostly cower and you can smash and pin.

Oh, but there's one thing. Turkeys. Yeah, none of that works on them. The first turkey I approached opened its generous (Read: terrifying) wingspan, flapped as if fanning the very furnaces of Hell, and attacked my face in its flight to freedom. Bounced off South wall, East wall, and then promptly flew the coop. It settled into a roost in a tall tree, looking very indignant. We were at a loss.

What works for turkeys, I can say now, is a modification of the general tactic. I like to call it "Turkey Rodeo". You lunge and grab, essential roll into the fetal position to protect your eyes and face, then hold on for dear life. After about 10 seconds, the turkey stops flapping to see if you are still there. Then pin and runnnnnn!

By perseverance, a lot of scrambling on hands and knees in chicken/duck/guinea/goose/turkey poo, throwing stuff for distraction, and yelling at small semi-flightless fowl, I managed to load the back of my truck with about 120 lbs. of pissed of birds stacked like a Jenga game in the bed. Thus began a very interesting 6 mile voyage back to Second Hand Ranch. Driving 20 mph is advisable. Any faster, and the two turkeys simultaneously went vertical, lifting their dog carrier about half a foot and scaring the bejeebers out of their fellow avian passengers. And me. Fortunately, my fellow motorists were understanding. At least once they figured out what the heck was in my bed.

James and I had prepped a coop and run the day before. Before de-birding my pickup, my Dad and I threw a tarp over the run and wired it down. The chickens were eerily quiet. Even the turkeys seemed beat. Had they survived? I was worried. We had somehow bonded in the harrowing cage fight. My little feathered friends were good, pleasing to the eye, and desirous for making eggs.

I moved the carriers inside the covered run and some birds came out. Others had to be coaxed. The turkeys... well I admit I just shoved the unlatched carrier into the darkened coop. We left them with water and some food. They went straight to roost. They seemed so peaceful. Then I realized- what if we had moved them AFTER they roosted? Duh.

The next morning, the roosters (2) went to it. A marvelous sound. All the birds were up and alert. I let them free range and they happily began working on the surplus SHR bugs. Each has their own personality, and the turkeys are my favorite... of course!

This should be a nice preliminary to when James and Co. get their own flock. Perhaps they will learn from our mistakes!