Planting

 March 14, we began the process of planting out at Purgatory Ranch.  First, this required mowing.

 Since we're adding a new bed this year, James mowed the entire triangle.  Dust was flying, but we tried to keep top soil loss to a minimum.

 That was it for the evening, especially after the brakes locked up on our trailer and caught fire just as we reached home.

 March 15, James organized a delivery of 8 tons (maybe more) of composted cow manure.  He then proceeded to till our  beds.  Meanwhile, I made a trip or two home and cut potatoes.  And cut potatoes. Did I mention we purchased 140 pounds of potatoes this year?

 We brought fishing wire and yarn to mark our rows, keeping me from my inability to plant anything in a straight line.

 50 pounds of potatoes later (Yukon gold in the south bed and Viking plus leftover Yukon in the north bed) meant we were out of space with only 1/3 of our crop planted.  Aiyiyi.

 There was a little mishap with a shovel as well!  (You know us... there's always a mishap.)

Weather brought excitement in the form of hail, high winds, and 1.5" of rain, which we definitely needed.  It also enforced no more planting for most of spring break, as it was too wet.

More potatoes (most of the remaining) were planting at Secondhand Ranch on the 20th.  From the south, we planted 12 rows: (1-2) Kennebec, (3-4) eastern half Kennebec, western half Red Lasota, a new variety for us, (5-6) Red Norland, (7-8) western tip R. Norland, mainly Russet Burbank, east tip Dakota, and finally 9-12 was all Dakota Crisp.  All told, we planted 25 pounds each of Kennebec, Yukon Gold, Red Norland, Dakota Crisp, and Purple Viking.  We also planted 10 pounds of Russet Burbank and 5 of Red Lasota.

Finally, we were able to plant out 14 bundles of onions on the 22nd.  With 6 bundles of Candy, 2 of Red Candy, 2 Texas SuperSweet, 2 Southern Belle, and 2 Vidalia, it was a busy time.  For record keeping purposes, we planted east to west in this order: (1) Vidalia, (2) Red Candy, (3) Texas Supersweet, (4-5) Southern Belle, (6-11) Candy, and (12-13) Red Candy.

To wrap up our planting, James eked out a few rows of All Blue at Yahweh Jireh Acres as well as a few rows of remaining Dakota Crisp.

Whew!

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

Chicken Soup

No, we're not eating anyone.  There's just enough chicken news of varying sorts that it's a soup!

Soup is still hovering over six eggs, the first of which should hatch next Wednesday.  Ooh!  The kids are excited, as James and I are.  It would be nice to know we can hatch our own chicks from year to year instead of purchasing from Atwoods or online in minimum orders of 15.

She's a scary being, let me tell you.  When she first went broody, we decided to slip a few extra eggs under her, so she's have good chances of hatching out at least one or two.  The first time or two I added an egg, she tried to peck me and the egg.  The egg didn't break, and she realized I wasn't trying to touch her.  I definitely wore gloves, however.

When she hops down from her box to drink or dig food, every feather on her body is fluffed out.  She looks big!

To add to our chicken news, the turkens have finally started to lay regularly again.  I will confess to being disappointed in this chickens and their lack of laying.

As they arrived this morning!

Finally, in a fit of madness, we ordered 15 chicks to add to our egg laying flock.  I have a craving for blue eggs (they're so pretty), so we ordered 8 "easter eggers."  We also ordered 7 Plymouth Rock Barred chicks, as they are cold hardy and supposed to be regular layers, even in winter.

Our lone yellow chick is already named Peep.

They were supposed to arrive mid April, but somewhere in the ordering process my request for a mid April delivery date was lost.  So they arrived today.  It's awfully cold, but they aren't too huddled together, so they must be okay.

We'll use paper towels for bedding for a few days, until I know they are all eating.  They all took to drinking readily, which makes me happy.  It's amazing how much more I know this year than I did with our first chicks (and how much I KNOW I don't know.  Aak!).

Chicks make me happy.  I don't know why, entirely, as they take a lot of work with bedding management, manure balls on their toes, and the occasional pasty butt, but they are darling.

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

Winter Observations

There is nothing quite like waking to the smoke alarm.  James and I searched the house for the source of the horrible burning plastic smell but never found it, so resorted to dialing 911 at 2 am.  After response from three nearby towns, an hour of searching the house from top to bottom, and some wildly exhausted kids, nothing.

Having firefighters troll through your house makes you want to clean everything and then get rid of everything.  At least that's how James and I feel.  It's not even that our house is so dirty... I don't clean every room every day, we have four kids, and... Well... The storage and art rooms are last on my list to clean.  Of course that's the smoke alarm that was having the hiccups.

We have too much stuff.  Too much.

It's officially bitterly cold when the heat has been running since about 10 pm last night.  With windchill, it's -17 F.  My fingers were numb upon returning from chicken chores this morning.

We ordered meat and egg laying chicks.  Although I requested delivery around April 18, it would appear that Purely Poultry had chicks they needed to ship earlier than that, as our egg layers will be arriving around March 8.

We are currently nestled under an ice and snow layer approximately 3" thick.

Off to take warm water to the chickens!

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

Broody Soup

Let us begin with reality: I am no chicken expert.  Far from it, as we have had chickens for less than a year.

I do know that something is up with Soup.

Soup is Stew's "big" sister.  (Remember Stew?  She of the traumatized life?)  Whether they are actually sisters, I don't know, but they are our two grey rescue hens.  As the larger and less abused of the two, Soup has remained in the white whale.

See the pile of food next to her?  Probably ridiculous, but I know she didn't eat yesterday

 Yesterday, when I came out to open the coops, feed, water, and check for eggs, I discovered Soup cowering in one of our nesting boxes.  And not quite growling, but making noise and simultaneously trying to avoid my notice.  I thought she was in the middle of laying an egg, so I went on my merry way.

Ooh, the stink eye!

 When I returned for midday egg check and afternoon feeding, she was still huddled in the nesting box. I don't think she's sick; I'm fairly confident this little biddy is broody.  I should have James check if she has any eggs under her (On a side note:  I do lots of care for my animals, but when it comes to touching them, dead or alive, that is my job only in emergency.  I just don't "do" touching animals.).  I may sneak a few under her today, with gloves on, so she has a few chances at hatching chicks.

Daddy Rooster, Mild

Mid-March chicks would be a lovely spring treat for us.  Then again, she might be dying.  (Probably not, but let's keep it real about life and my ignorance!)

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

Purgatory Ranch Update

As you may or may not know, we own 40 acres two miles from our house.  Since we don't live on Purgatory Ranch, we tend to not visit when there are no immediate tasks to attend to there.

 It is one of our many dreams to live here someday, but for now, on this spur of the moment trip, I observe that we have our work cut out for us.  There needs to me some mowing and then some tilling.

 Even through the weeds, some tree onions, missed at last year's harvest, are resolutely poking through.

 Work... lots of work...

And maybe we should trim on the driveway.  Another day.

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

Snow Days

I apologize for abandoning descriptions of our journeys to growing and raising more of our own food.  Life has been busy, and crazy, and at the same time, routine.

Early in the day, as snow accumulates.

Neighbors.  Guineas.  Problems.  Enough said.

We lost a rooster.  I still don't know why.

Our dog, Hope, still steals the food of our cat, Andromeda, at every chance she can.  Hope now howls when a particular train rolls past with its whistle tooting.  I could do without this quirk, thankyouverymuch.

During our unusually long and bitterly cold cold snaps, I struggled to keep water thawed and clean for the chickens.  We switched to hanging waterers with nipples, which has helped in all but the longest and coldest stretches.  Sometimes I still carry out hot water to pour in basins several times a day.  Tomorrow will likely be one of those days.

Kids and snow!

James is building a mini greenhouse and a meat chicken coop.  Pictures will eventually appear here on the blog!

There has too much illness and death in our extended families and acquaintances.  Perhaps it is our age or our awareness, but I feel a little as though are a collective Job!

God has been good to us.  We have avoided major illness in our immediate family.  We've ordered seeds for the summer garden, and plenty of new fruit bushes and plants to fill the insatiable hunger in our children for fruit.  We are at that time of year in which I will only buy a few fruits from the store as everything else is too expensive or disgusting.

Avalanche off the white whale.

It had been snowing all day.  We have over 6", and the snow is still falling.  Since we need moisture, we are praying for several more inches.  (At least I am.). Today is a snow day.  Tomorrow will be as well.

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

Chicken Trauma

Having a single flock of free-ranging birds (12 guinea fowl and 2 chickens) regularly establishes exactly why we DON'T free range our egg-laying flock.

Tuesday night, James raced into the house with a seemingly incoherent account of birds, dogs, and missing ears.  I asked him to be quiet as the baby was asleep, not really registering his actual words, and he said,  "She's missing.  I need you outside right now."

J&J's bird dog had escaped her leash.  Again.  Another neighbor's son, seeing the dog headed for our yard, tried to get his dog to distract the dog.  Even in writing that sounds like a bad plan, and it was even worse in reality.  Their dog, Sophie, is loathed and despised by Hope.  J&J's dog and Sophie went after our guinea flock.  James saw one bird at least potentially dismembered, then Hope went after Sophie and tore off part of her ear (and, might I confess, later went back to the field of battle and ate said missing ear after we couldn't find it?).  James traversed the neighborhood in search of the neighbor's errant bird dog.

And that, my friends, was the beginning of a two hour search for my birds.  I was initially able to locate 11 guineas, no chickens.  All appeared to be uninjured.  After another 15 or so minutes, I found Darkest Winter, our gimpy chicken, hiding behind the barn.  She was uninjured.  After another 20-30 minutes, I found 12 guineas huddled on the neighbor's roof.  No Stew.

Stew's feathers littered our yard like a rained out TP party.  Searching, searching, searching with a sick feeling in my stomach.  I really didn't want to find a bird bloodied and needing to be euthanized, nor did I really want to find a dead bird.  Finding a live, healthy chicken seemed to be an impossibility.

James eventually came back and joined the search.  He invited neighbor boys with a bribe of money to help.

Still, given my record at finding things, I finally found Stew.  Alive.  Unbloodied.  Missing a lot of feathers, but otherwise okay.  She had hidden herself in a clump of decorative grasses and looked like an old weathered log.

She cursed us roundly for cooping her up, but she needed to be monitored for a few days.  We did add bedding and food to the dog crate.  She didn't move for almost 24 hours, but this morning was up and at 'em when I took the kids to school, so I released her back to her flock.

Poor girl.  James is right.  Is this poor chicken lucky to have survived or unlucky to get picked on so much?

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

P.S.  She had finally started to lay eggs again.  I'm thinking she'll have stopped again for quite a while.