08 Nov Sat 2008
Calf-Naming Contest Winner, New Cuteness, Construction Update, Turkey Possibility
Hello all --
Calf-Naming Contest Winner
After receiving numerous brilliant and creative entries to our calf-naming contest, I regret to inform you generous folks that I've ignored all your suggestions and selected a name of more local inspiration: "Sparrow." It was Dave's idea, and Madeleine agreed on it. Axel doesn't object, and neither do I. I find it's hard to argue with people who can eviscerate a dozen and a half chickens in under an hour. So, I'm awarding Dave the prize chicken -- which, of course, he doesn't quite need. He'll probably hand it over to Madeleine to gut and clean and then cook up into some kind of spectacular feast. That's okay with me. I don't mind.
Still, I want to honor the efforts of those of you who took the time to help us find a good handle for Robin's offspring. I hereby declare a tie between the two of you who came up with "Egg" -- Lorraine Ellis and Matthew Pagano. We won't even make you share a chicken, although it might be fun to commend each other's wit over a tasty dinner. So, please come, each of you, and claim a whole bird. Congratulations! I really like the name "Egg," and I campaigned hard for its acceptance. It has the same appeal and freaky logic of an Easter Bunny, with his basket of ovoid treasures stolen from who-knows-whose nest. But the rest of the family thought we should save "Egg" for a bull calf. This kind of makes sense. "Egg" would become "Eggie" in no time, a perfect complement to "Aggie," "Iggy," and "Figgy," the names we've assigned to the various bulls that have come to us.
New Cuteness
Those of you keeping track of the real eggs around here know we've been carrying on a strange war with the hens. We try to steal their eggs; they try to hide them. If we lose, it's really okay, because we wind up with more chickens, half of whom, we hope, will eventually lay their own eggs -- eggs that we will try to steal and they will try to hide.
Anyway, this morning I was interrupted from some peaceful reveries in front of my computer by the sound of a chick cheeping for its mother. Madeleine reported that the chick had fallen out of a nest and was now considered a reject by every hen in the hen house, including the mama.
From far off, a chick's chirping is a cute sound. From across the room, it gouges the brain, scrambling the pleasure center and lighting up every pain receptor it can find. Because this torture device happens to be housed in an incredibly adorable package, my reaction is to hold it, rather than fling it. Soon, I can't put it down, partly because it is so very cute and partly because it starts its piercing peeps as soon as I try that. Oh, what is a body to do?!
Well, I put on my barn coat, found a napkin to line a pocket, and started carrying little Peeper around. Occasionally, I'd take him/her/it out and dip his/her/its beak into some water. He/She/It doesn't seem to know how to do it on his/her/own yet. I took him/her/it on my walk, keeping my hand in my pocket to give him/her/it comfort and warmth. And I started toying with the idea of bringing him/her/it into town for Axel's orthodontic appointment and piano lesson.
Then, Dave sat me down and explained, not for the first time, that this is a farm. And while a heat lamp may not offer little Peeper all the solace and confidence-building security of a living mother figure, any harm suffered by its tiny psyche in such an isolated setting would likely not be permanent.
Construction Update
Things are happening! See pictures. The basement you see will have a cheese cave, a root cellar, and the fancy, shmancy wood-burning gasification/agrichar-making furnace in it. We're even getting some more pastures fenced. You're welcome, good neighbors!!
Turkey Possibilities
If you want to be on the wait list for a turkey, let us know. We have at least one cancellation from the reserve list. Pick-up time will be at our house on Tuesday, November 25, from 5:00 until 8:00. The turkeys are six dollars per pound.
I hope you're all enjoying this misty spring weather.
Barb
Calf-Naming Contest Winner
After receiving numerous brilliant and creative entries to our calf-naming contest, I regret to inform you generous folks that I've ignored all your suggestions and selected a name of more local inspiration: "Sparrow." It was Dave's idea, and Madeleine agreed on it. Axel doesn't object, and neither do I. I find it's hard to argue with people who can eviscerate a dozen and a half chickens in under an hour. So, I'm awarding Dave the prize chicken -- which, of course, he doesn't quite need. He'll probably hand it over to Madeleine to gut and clean and then cook up into some kind of spectacular feast. That's okay with me. I don't mind.
Still, I want to honor the efforts of those of you who took the time to help us find a good handle for Robin's offspring. I hereby declare a tie between the two of you who came up with "Egg" -- Lorraine Ellis and Matthew Pagano. We won't even make you share a chicken, although it might be fun to commend each other's wit over a tasty dinner. So, please come, each of you, and claim a whole bird. Congratulations! I really like the name "Egg," and I campaigned hard for its acceptance. It has the same appeal and freaky logic of an Easter Bunny, with his basket of ovoid treasures stolen from who-knows-whose nest. But the rest of the family thought we should save "Egg" for a bull calf. This kind of makes sense. "Egg" would become "Eggie" in no time, a perfect complement to "Aggie," "Iggy," and "Figgy," the names we've assigned to the various bulls that have come to us.
New Cuteness
Those of you keeping track of the real eggs around here know we've been carrying on a strange war with the hens. We try to steal their eggs; they try to hide them. If we lose, it's really okay, because we wind up with more chickens, half of whom, we hope, will eventually lay their own eggs -- eggs that we will try to steal and they will try to hide.
Anyway, this morning I was interrupted from some peaceful reveries in front of my computer by the sound of a chick cheeping for its mother. Madeleine reported that the chick had fallen out of a nest and was now considered a reject by every hen in the hen house, including the mama.
From far off, a chick's chirping is a cute sound. From across the room, it gouges the brain, scrambling the pleasure center and lighting up every pain receptor it can find. Because this torture device happens to be housed in an incredibly adorable package, my reaction is to hold it, rather than fling it. Soon, I can't put it down, partly because it is so very cute and partly because it starts its piercing peeps as soon as I try that. Oh, what is a body to do?!
Well, I put on my barn coat, found a napkin to line a pocket, and started carrying little Peeper around. Occasionally, I'd take him/her/it out and dip his/her/its beak into some water. He/She/It doesn't seem to know how to do it on his/her/own yet. I took him/her/it on my walk, keeping my hand in my pocket to give him/her/it comfort and warmth. And I started toying with the idea of bringing him/her/it into town for Axel's orthodontic appointment and piano lesson.
Then, Dave sat me down and explained, not for the first time, that this is a farm. And while a heat lamp may not offer little Peeper all the solace and confidence-building security of a living mother figure, any harm suffered by its tiny psyche in such an isolated setting would likely not be permanent.
Construction Update
Things are happening! See pictures. The basement you see will have a cheese cave, a root cellar, and the fancy, shmancy wood-burning gasification/agrichar-making furnace in it. We're even getting some more pastures fenced. You're welcome, good neighbors!!
Turkey Possibilities
If you want to be on the wait list for a turkey, let us know. We have at least one cancellation from the reserve list. Pick-up time will be at our house on Tuesday, November 25, from 5:00 until 8:00. The turkeys are six dollars per pound.
I hope you're all enjoying this misty spring weather.
Barb
Dave and Barb
11:07 AM EST