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(Grover, North Carolina)
Alpacas, blueberries in season, farm fresh free-range eggs and "chemical-free" vegetables.
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OK, finally the promised news concerning Guinea, one of
the newest additions to the chaos and bedlam here at the farm. My chum, Bradley
Fox, brought me two guineas the last time he was here delivering to me fifteen
"point-of-lay" Leghorn hens. Leghorns are white egg layers and I have missed
not having enough white eggs to include a couple in each carton. My favorite
assortment of eggs in each carton is four brown, two blue/green, two white, four
brown. Is it obvious to everyone by now that there is some kind of issue going
on here?
Anyway, I had told Bradley the last time I was at his farm
that I'd like to have some guineas, so he brought me a male and female. Alas,
somehow in transport, the female's leg was broken, so Bradley was going to take
her back with him and . . . The first night at the farm, Guinea marched into
the back coop along with the new hens. That was on Tuesday. Wednesday morning
when I went out to chore up, Guinea was on the outside of the 8' fence
surrounding the back pasture trying frantically to get back in. It has always
been a conundrum to me that said birds that manage to fly over the fence to get
out can never seem to remember how to fly back in. So, being the loving and
caring farmgirl that I am, I set out to rescue Guinea. This is done with great
sacrifice on my part, because it is a royal pain in the patooie to get outside
and to the very back of the compound. There is lots of poison ivy, briars,
snake nests, etc, that one has to trudge through to get back there, but I did it
and spent a good deal of time coaxing, begging, threatening, chasing, etc, that
darn guinea, trying to catch him so he could be reunited with the other foul
fowls. To no avail. Finally, I faced the fact that Guinea would be eaten
before the day was done and I had just lost the ten bucks I paid for
him.
Amazingly, Wednesday morning he was still alive and still
trying to get back into the fortress. I had to go out of town for the evening,
so didn't have a great deal of time to fool with him, but I did go out and try
to lure him into the compound. After this second, and I might add, final
attempt to be a loving and caring farmgirl, I finally said "Fine, you stupid
bird. Get eaten" and sadly accepted Guinea's probable fate.
On Thursday, Guinea flew back over the fence and decided
he would be the self appointed guardian of the broiler chicks. Great! For two
weeks he watched over the five pens of broilers as if they were his own
children, fretting each time I moved the pens, making sure everyone was well fed
and sounding many alarms.
Then, Guinea flew back out of the compound. Why? Was it
boredom? Was he overwhelmed by the task he had taken on for himself? I had
tried to express my gratitude for the fine job he was doing. For the next two
days he again tried frantically to get back in. I did not try to rescue him.
On day three, he flew back over the fence and resumed his guard duties.
I wonder how he's going to handle it when three of the pens become empty this
weekend? Guess I'll find out.
The long and short of it is that I LIKE Guinea. He's a
cool dude. I love the many different sounds he makes and he's just a comical
character. He's just another instrument to the orchestra, so to speak. I think
I'd like to have a peacock or two . . .
Tags:
Posted by Carmen
@ 05:05 PM EDT
Two events the past few days will go down in the "farm
journal". The first was "the driving of the hens from the barn." There have
been a group of "rogue" hens that decided several months ago they were going to
roost in the barn, thank you very much. It started with a few of the older hens
and the number grew steadily when some of the younger girls saw it and thought
it was cool. So these hens were roosting on top of the storage cabinet, on
stall panels, on wiring conduit and some on the very top of the "cage" into
which we store hay and feed. Doing as hens do, which has been previously
discussed as to why you need to wear old shoes when you come out to the farm,
they have done it all over the barn. In short, the barn has been trashed by
these "ne'er do well" hens. While patience is still a virtue, I must confess
that I ran completely out of it last Thursday when I was setting up brooder
tanks in the barn in anticipation of the new broiler chicks that were coming on
Friday. Realizing that if those hens were still in the barn when the chicks
were there, they would eat the chick feed and wreak general havoc, so I began
the process of driving them out. The more I drove, the more hysterical they
became and the madder I got. In the process I was reminded of the time when
Jesus ran the moneychangers out of the temple and I swelled with righteous
indignation. Truthfully, I must confess my indignation was NOT righteous and
became more unrighteous the more laps we went around the barn. It was,
unfortunately, one of those times I was angry and sinned! At last, I finally
got them all out of the barn and closed all the doors.
Those hens became a pitiful, whimpering group, huddled
outside the barn door at night, in the rain, shivering in the cold. Was I moved
with compassion? NO. There are four chicken coops into which they can go to
get in out of the harsh, cruel world. If they want to spend a miserable night
in the rain or become dinner for an owl, so be it.
Sunday night when I came home from church, as I was on my
way down to the barn to check on the chicks, I saw, to my horror, one of the top
barn doors had blown open. Were the hens? Yep, they were. Every last one of
those blame hens was perched back on their favorite perches. I even heard a few
"na na nuh boom booms" when I entered the barn. I was madder than a broody hen
but as it was dark I knew there was nothing to be done until morning when "the
driving of the hens from the barn" happened all over again. The barn doors have
been secured and a hurricane won't blow them open this time! Farmgirl will have
the last word.
Then, late yesterday afternoon, I was on the phone with my
sister when I saw alpacas running around in the back yard. MO was chasing a
screaming Sal. As a side note -- MO is a crazy male who's entire existence is
consumed by getting to and killing Sal and that's what he was trying to do. Sal
was screaming, MO was chasing and snorting, the girls were running, and they
were all disregarding my blueberry bushes. SOME IDIOT had left a gate open from
the back pasture into the yard. This was the same idiot that had left the
trailer door open that I cracked my head open on! Do we realize that the entire
running of this farm depends on this IDIOT?? Scary, isn't it!! Do I need to
try and describe the pitiful sight of this short, fat farmgirl chasing a herd of
alpacas, who, when not supposed to be where they are, can run like a pack of
gazelles??? The thought of getting my shotgun and using it was a thought that
more than crossed my mind. It was not a funny situation and I don't want anyone
laughing about it! After a very long time and a couple of destroyed blueberry
bushes, I finally got the unruly mob separated and back where they were supposed
to be.
It's only Tuesday?? This has been a long week so far! I
don't even want to think about all the other things that can go wrong for fear
they WILL!
Tags:
Posted by Carmen
@ 05:02 PM EDT
Well, boys and girls, it's time for us to explore another
chapter in the ongoing saga of the Farmgirl of Blueberry Hill. When will this
saga ever end? Well, it almost did today . . .
I had a quite productive day today. It began very early
this morning with the routines of the day. In the morning the chores begin with
the broiler chicks in the garage and end with Mr. Knightly and Emma's coop. The
broilers are becoming very naughty as they have discovered that their little
wings will actually propel them somewhere -- usually over the side of the
broiler tank and onto the garage floor. When I got out to take care of them
this morning, there were quite a number of them out. Anyway, that's another
story and I spent quite a bit of time today trying to figure out what I was
going to do with them. I think I have it worked out in my mind now. After the
routine chores were finished, I began working on the cleanup of this farm, as
the rains and general muck of the winter have done both a number on its
cleanliness and my morale.
I tore down and pulled up a defunked chicken lot that the
chickens had destroyed beside the big coop; I took a load of trash to the dump;
I picked up lumber scraps from a shed we had built; I cleaned out the tack room
down at the llama barn and removed protective covering from around the stall. I
hauled feed up to the little blue coop and cleaned up around there. While at
the little blue coop I had to fend off, yet another attack, of Dandy the Rooster
from Hell who insists on attacking and flogging me. I hate that rooster. One
day he's going to flog me when I'm in just the right frame of mind, and I'm
going to shoot his worthless hide. I've tried to explain to him that "farmer"
trumps "rooster" but he refuses to follow my line of reasoning. I am the "head
honcho" around here because I am the only one with thumbs and therefore the only
one who can remove the lid from the scratch tub. The hens love me best, for
when they are given the choice of scratch or being courted by a rooster, they
will opt for scratch every time. The roosters are quite jealous of the hens'
loyalty toward me. It is just a striking example that a hen can live without a
rooster but she cannot live without a farmer. I digress.
Anyway, around 3:30 this afternoon I was going to load up
the old chicken lot I had pulled up with the intent of loading it onto the dump
cart and hauling it off to the landfill when it happened.
I had decided that, since there was a strong ammonia odor
coming out of the big coop, mostly due to the last big rain that flooded that
coop, I would put the last bale of shavings I had in there to help with that
problem. Some idiot had left the top door of the horse trailer open. I was
deep in conversation with me and myself, carrying the shavings from around the
back of the A-frame coop and not really looking where I was going. All of a
sudden WHAM!! I walked right into the corner of that opened trailer door. I hit
it with such force that I was knocked backwards and onto the ground. The door
corner had come in contact with my forehead up near my hair line and I was in
such excruciating pain that I could only utter incomprehensible groans that have
no definitions. I don't know how long I lay on the ground but I was pretty sure
I was dying. I could not move, I could only groan. Just as I was sure I was
about dead, it occurred to me that I was not surrounded by a band of angels
coming after me, but a flock of chickens standing over me. One of the hens had
a hold of my pants leg and was pulling it frantically saying "Farm girl, get up!
Get up!" but I could not. After laying there for what seemed like a very long
time, I was able to roll over onto my belly and then after a few more minutes
was able to push up onto my knees. The bale of shavings was right there and I
slumped over it. I couldn't open my right eye and my head was throbbing. I was
debating whether or not to call 9-1-1. Finally I was able to stand up. This is
dragging out to long. You get the picture. I was very pitiful and I felt very
pitiful. My biggest concern was that I was going to keel over and I hadn't made
out a list of what to do in the event that happened. Dying becomes very
complicated when the starving masses are relying on you. I staggered up to the
house, got a bag of ice, and called Ernest, my retired doctor Brother-in-law.
Anyway, drug out story shortened . . . I am still alive, although I have a dozy
of a goose egg on my forehead. My head is very sore and I have a feeling that's
not going to be better by morning. I may have to call in sick
tomorrow.
So, Farmgirl, what have we learned from this experience?
Close the *!!$@**&% trailer door!
The End.
Tags:
Posted by Carmen
@ 04:54 PM EDT
We may be blown away today but thankfully it is NOT
raining. The sun shining down on the hoop houses heats things up nicely inside
and gives the plants enclosed therein the courage to start growing a
little.
I will tell you, though, that chickens HATE wind. It
makes things blow around that look like flying creatures. It may just be a big
leaf, but the roosters take no chances in sounding the alarms, just not being
sure that the leaf in question might not be a hawk in disquise. One never knows
these days . . .
Yesterday everyone here was border line nuts. I have two
alpacas who have discovered the joys of eating chicken feed and have discovered
the trick of getting into the large stall I've made into a chicken coop at the
"llama barn". Very annoying. To top it off, yesterday morning, during my
breakfast ritual of eating my cereal in front of the sliding glass door that
overlooks the "kingdom", I noticed that the tack room door at the "llama barn"
was standing open. Annoying again. That would mean hens were in there laying
eggs amongst the bales of hay that would not be discovered; alpacas would up in
the tack room eating alfalfa hay, their favorite but available to them on a
limited basis; etc., etc. I went ahead and finished my cereal, then dressed and
went down to see what the damage was.
Instead of "all of the above" I discovered that SOMEBODY
had drug out two feed bags that the hens had busily and happily shredded into
millions of pieces. Why? Boredom? Rain fever? Because they could? Another
annoyance. Oh well, such is life here on the farm . . .
Tags:
Posted by Carmen
@ 04:51 PM EDT
If anyone out in the "blogoshpere" ever read any of my earlier posts, then you will know that I have been extremely remiss on posting entries over the past few months. It's not that I haven't been writing down some of the farm happenings, but I've been including some of the farm stories in my weekly Egg Club newsletter. Some of my Egg Clubbers -- the ones who are totally bored out of their heads, do not have cable TV, or have, otherwise, NO lives, actually read and comment on my stories, encouraging me to keep a record of them for posterity or the like. Therefore, I have decided to post as many of them as I have not deleted here on my Local Harvest blog. Farming is extremely challenging and often frustrating. I have determined to find humor in my daily activities and, indeed, I am surrounded by humorous beings and situations if I will put aside all the many things that come to discourage and take the time to express to the One and Only my gratitude for the wonderful opportunity I have been given. I can truly echo the words of the Apostle Paul when he penned these words to those in Corinth, found in 1 Corinthians 16:9 & 13: "For a great door and effectual (opportunity) is opened unto me, and there are many adversaries. . .watch ye, stand fast in the faith, quit you like men, be strong." So, if you've NO life, NO cable TV, or are otherwise looking for some light reading material, then I hope you will enjoy reading about some of the goings on here at Blueberry Hill Farm.
Posted by Carmen
@ 04:42 PM EDT
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