Surrounded by friends

It's comforting to know that on the rare night I go to sleep alone in this house, I am still surrounded by friends.

Last night, as I climbed up onto the couch to sleep, Bandit joined me and stretched out by my side, his fuzzy belly against my sleeping bag, his head resting contentedly on my chest. Just a few minutes later, Ghost leaped gracefully up onto the back of the couch, climbed down the arm and settled deeply into the pillow next to my head. Big Boy, Frosty, and Starlet found their respective places on the carpet, and Shade stretched herself out along the top of the entertainment center. Outside the window, I heard Willow shuffle into her dog house, assuming her role as guardian and watchman over the little homestead.

As I drifted off, it occurred to me that I could never feel alone here, surrounded by friends.

Happy endings

I hope you guys will forgive me for the admittedly not-homestead-related post. It does have to do with "howls" though, so I figure I can sneak it into this blog safely.

The above photo was taken yesterday at an empty farm about an hour away from me. Three dogs - littermates, and a mix of German Shepherd, Malamute, and wolf - were abandoned in a large fenced yard at the farm when the property was foreclosed upon. Left for six months with almost no human contact, the "pack of three" had learned to rely on one another for interaction and scrounge for whatever they could find. The owner returned to throw kibble over the fence now and again, but it wasn't enough for three hungry, 100+ lb. dogs.

About two months ago, a friend of mine who works in rescue found out about them, and asked me to come along to help. Over the course of February, March, and April, we made trip after trip to their location, hauling food, water, toys, and treats into their pen (along with much-needed attention and love). They were just the sweetest dogs and my heart was breaking for them. The local dog pound was poised like a hawk above us, constantly reminding us that they could seize the dogs at any time and take them into their custody - where they would be given a week to live before being euthanized. Meanwhile, my friend and I were doing anything we could to find these three a home, preferably together.

Just a few weeks ago, we finally had a breakthrough. A woman with a heart of gold stepped up and offered almost $400 in free veterinary care to get the dogs current on their shots and vetting. Just a few days later, a fellow rescuer a few states away called and said he knew someone who wanted to adopt all three of the dogs. We were flabberghasted! This person saw the need and went the extra mile, arranging transport, and fencing a huge 7000 sq ft yard for them, complete with 2-story (!) dog house and a deck just for them. It was the happiest ending we ever could have hoped for.

Tomorrow I'll be heading down south to give them their final send-off as they depart for their new home. This work isn't easy, as I've found out, but it is so fulfilling. To anyone who does rescue work out there - you have my gratitude and deep respect.

Rainy days

I'm amazed at how much I'm starting to enjoy rainy days here on the homestead. Back in the city, a rainy day made the house feel like a prison - here, a rainy day feels like a welcome respite from farm chores and sunburn. I should be cleaning out the barn or planning the next round of fencing, but the rain gives me a perfectly good excuse to hang around inside. I've spent the morning in the kitchen instead, baking bread (rye and cinnamon raisin) in my $10 treasure of a bread machine, and trying to get ahead of this week's cooking by making things ahead. As I'm sitting here typing, I'm eating an apple-bacon-brie omelet. I wish it was made from my own eggs and apples, but it's still delicious, and I know that day will come soon enough!

Speaking of cooking - for any of you in Ohio who are interested in eating locally, I've found a terrific source for fresh milk and old-fashioned roll butter. Hartzler Dairy based out of Wooster sends their products to several stores in my area, and I suspect other parts of the state as well. Their cream-top (non-homogenized) milk, bottled in glass, is just out of this world! The 2% milk tastes like "normal grocery" whole milk, and their whole milk? Heavenly. I wasn't a big milk drinker before, but since I've been getting Hartzler's milk, I've often been finding myself craving a glass. I'd recommend it to anyone looking for locally-produced fresh milk, non-homogenized and regular (not ultra) pasteurized.

Yum!

I know this blog should be more diversified

I realize I've been so focused on getting the chickens settled lately that I haven't had time to give updates on the other aspects of our little homestead. So, rest assured that soon, I'll be flooding this blog with photos of the sled dogs, seedlings (which are now growing into actual plants, who would've guessed?), wildlife around the property, and spring photos.

I also want to post my mini-tutorial on building a self-watering planter, and document my next project, which is building a compost bin... not to mention, talk about how to make your own homemade breads and pastas (delicious). Spring is such a busy time of year that it makes for good blogging (and really bad time-management).

Cute chicken photos

As promised. These were all taken out in their brand-new coop, which they're thoroughly enjoying! Not everyone cooperated for pictures, though, so this batch is mainly just my Turken and Ameracauna girls.

Carrying the torch

I had a humbling conversation today in front of the chick brooders at Tractor Supply Company. My husband and I had stopped in to research options for hotwire, when I heard the irresistable peeping of baby chicks. Drawn like a moth to a flame, I had to go check them out - I confess, I'm hopeless.

As I was standing there looking at the mass of fuzzy yellow chicks, I overheard an old farmer standing next to me say something about farming skills to the woman standing next to him. He then turned, motioned to me and said, "Now someone from this generation... just aren't interested in these kinds of things." Smiling warmly, I mentioned that I was raising my first batch of chicks right now, starting my own seeds, and learning to live the most self-sufficient life I could on my small acreage. His response touched me and humbled me, as he turned to his companion and said:

"See now, so there is still someone who is carrying the torch."

I couldn't say anything in return. All I could do was smile and lower my gaze in respect - and then off we were to talk about wood-burning stoves, the predatory nature of hawks and other important rural matters.

To me, that's a big part about what this lifestyle is all about. One of the realizations that has really been impressed upon me since I started this whole business is the utterly fleeting nature of so many things we take for granted - plants, animals, and personal skills.

Take, for example, heirloom seeds. These seed varieties have been passed down through families, generation after generation, for hundreds of years. If a single link in that chain is broken - if instead of saving seeds from the plant, the cultivator decides to abandon it in favor of a commercial variety - that strain is lost to us forever. Its unique character, its hardiness for the zone it was developed in, disease resistance, unique size and flavor - all gone. Valuable genes are lost, and eventually all we will have left are inbred commercial strains that lack the character of the plants of our ancestors.

Even animals are this way, too. if you really think about it, any breed of animal will die out in just a single generation, if everyone involved in their propagation just up-and-quit all at the same time. In Ohio, there is a heritage breed of chicken, the Buckeye, developed here in the state for extreme cold-weather tolerance, good egg-laying and meat production. This breed used to be extremely widespread in the Midwest, but was nearly lost to us, except for a small group of Amish that had kept the strain pure for the last 50 years. And most homesteaders have heard of the nearly-extinct heritage turkey breeds, that were all but abandoned in favor of the commercial Broad-Breasted White (which has now, consequently, been severely inbred to the point it can no longer breed naturally - go figure).

(It sounds far-fetched to believe that all propagators of a species could suddenly "up-and-quit", but in the spirit of this post, just today a federal bill was shot down that would have prohibited the importation, posession, sale, and propagation of all non-native animals not specifically "whitelisted" in the bill. It would have stopped my reptile breeding efforts in their tracks, and once the current generation of captive reptiles died out in this country - destroyed nearly 40 years of careful selective breeding by hundreds of dedicated herpetologists. So yes, it can happen - sometimes in unforeseen ways.)

And of course, any common personal skill can become a "lost art" once it is made obsolete by convenience. It's too involved of a subject to just tack on here, but in my own personal life, I'm finding that many of the outdated "skills of necessity" (homemade bread, pasta, and yogurt; raising your own food; reading the weather; etc.) were, in their own right, much healthier for both our bodies and minds. Perhaps they were skills of "necessity", but in a completely different way than we had envisioned in modern culture.

Well, today sure saw a lot of philosophical ramblings in this blog. Tomorrow, I promise I'll only post cute chicken photos. Promise.

(On behalf of the old farmer I met today - thanks to all of you out there who are also "carrying the torch". If he could see how many of us there are, I am sure he would be very proud.)

The little moments

Sometimes, in the midst of very hard work, it's easy to lose sight of just why I'm doing all this. I mean, I could go buy an egg at the store if I really wanted. I could avoid all these dry, calloused thumbs and sore knuckles, all the eternally-dirty fingernails, the sweat, blood (yes, there was plenty putting up the woven wire fence) and tears.

But then the day comes that the work is finished, and the payback comes in very unexpected ways.

After the fence was up a few days ago, chicken safely rummaging about inside, I was walking back towards the house when I noticed an incoming line of rain clouds overhead. I ducked under the pavilion of the barn just in time to avoid getting drenched, and with my bolt clippers in one hand, and a bag of chick grit in the other, I plopped down on a nearby block of firewood to enjoy a beautiful spring rain. It was an incredible sight and I sat hushed in awe as the rain poured steadily all around me.

It let up about 10 minutes later and moved off just as quickly as it had arrived, and as I continued my journey back towards the house, I was feeling significanlty more relaxed and thankful.

If it wasn't for the chickens... if it wasn't for the hard work I put in over the last week, those precious 10 minutes would never have happened. It was enough to remind me that there is more to this lifestyle than just the free eggs. For me, it is about more time spent outdoors, about personal responsibility and accomplishment, about becoming intimately involved in nature.

It all seemed very much worth it.

Chicken teenagers

Take a look at these guys, approaching 6 weeks of age! Pictured is Freebie, my White-Crested Black Polish, Chip and Red, two Ameracuana sisters, and my two Barred Rock twins (who don't have names yet). They are starting to look like actual chickens now. I took them outside for their first taste of grass and sunshine the other day, and they really seemed to enjoy themselves! Watching them look curiously up at the blue sky, scratch in the loose soil, eat grass, and chase bugs, reminded me why I believe in free-ranging these birds.

They have really outgrown the brooder, and need to be moved to the coop ASAP. I spent several days last week painting the inside of the coop, installing a bedding board (a wood plank that holds the bedding away from the front door of the coop), and figuring out where I'm going to hang their feeder and waterer.

I've also had to figure out how to erect and tighten my first woven-wire fence for their run. I'm amazed at what a finicky and frustrating job this can be! After 2 days of sore thumbs, calloused fingers, and lots of trial-and-error, I'm proud to say that I'm finally on my way. One side of the run is completed, nice and straight and tight - 2 more to go.

I know I haven't had much time to post lately, but it's all for the best - today, my husband and I officially sold our old house! I am just thrilled, and so relieved. Now we can concentrate on enjoying our homestead and rebuilding our savings (yep, in this economy we took a slight loss on our old house). Here's to a new single-mortgage era in my household!

Moving day

Sorry for the lack of updates over the last week! We got dumped on with 4" of snow, which promptly melted 2 days later. It was pretty pointless, but thankfully it's passed now, and we're back into the green of spring.

Moving Day is fast approaching here at the homestead. No, not for me - but for many of the residents here, it's that time of year when chickens, sprouts, and even snakes get ready to leave their cribs and head out into new homes.

The chicks are now approaching 4 weeks of age, and nearly all of them are fully-feathered. Once the coop is painted and the fencing installed, I'll be moving them out of the brooder, and into their coop. I'm actually pretty nervous about it - all the "what if's" are flooding my brain. What if they get eaten by Bodie, the red-tailed hawk that sits, mocking me, at the corner of the barn every morning? What about the stray dogs that have been frequenting my property the last couple of weeks? What if one of them escapes the pasture, and ends up in the neighbor's yard? And so it goes, on and on.

I knew this day would come eventually. Now I just need to be a good chicken mom, and let them go their merry way out into their new, pastured, almost-free-range world. It's just much harder than I thought it would be. I've been comforting myself with the thought of them strutting happily around the grounds.

Secondly, many of the sprouts are ready to be transplanted into larger containers. I'm approaching this with a lot less trepidation than the chickens' big move, but not completely without stress. To be honest, I've never transplanted seedlings before. It seems like such an important step, the last one before they hit the ground in mid-May. I think I'm feeling a bit gun-shy after I found some of my Cherry Roma tomato seedlings wilted this morning.

Lastly, my Puget Sound garter snake yearling is just about ready to move into a planted terrarium. She's been living in my hatchling rack (like a chest of drawers, but for snakes) for the past several weeks while I bought supplies to build her new home. But, with fences to put up, self-watering containers to build, raised beds to install, and coops to paint, I'm just not sure when it will be done.

A hobby farm is such an enjoyable thing. A busy, project-filled thing, but very enjoyable nonetheless.

April snow showers bring...?

I have to admit, after reading Cold Antler Farm's blog post about her sudden April snowfall, I was feeling pretty relieved that I live in Ohio and not Vermont. My confidence in the great Buckeye State was apparently misplaced, however. This morning I woke up to this:



None of the snow is sticking yet, but since the cold temps aren't supposed to let up for another few days, it's possible that we may have a light white blanket by the time the week is out.

Hobbit birdhouse

One of the things I love the most about life here is the amazing variety of birds that visit the feeders in our front yard. When we moved in last fall, the original owners were kind enough to leave us the row of birdhouses along the front porch, the several hidden along the woods line, as well as two feeders that were in heavy use in the front yard. I received an additional birdhouse, affectionately known as Hobbit Birdhouse, from my mom as a gift.

There's just something I love about that little birdhouse. It looks so homely and so natural - like it just grew out of the roof, or like it had been there forever. It was looking splendid against the buds sprouting in the front yard, so I wanted to share it with everyone.

I can't wait until the day when birds move into that house - none yet, but maybe next spring.

Signs of spring take 2

The Great Hinckley Prairie Fire of 2009

I was sitting in my sunroom, sowing the last group of seeds into the seedling rack, (tomatoes, dill, rosemary, and more broccoli, for the curious) when I received an interesting phone call from my dad.

"Good thing the wind is blowing away from your house today."

"Why?"

"Because today is prairie-burning day for the Park."

Needless to say, I dropped everything I was doing, grabbed my bike, and headed up the street.

See, every year, the Hinckley Reservation (which surrounds my property) conducts a controlled burn-off of their prairie restoration habitat. This kind of maintenance is necessary to keep new growth coming in, and to protect the habitat from invasive plants.

The prairie is only a mile up the street from me, so I decided I wanted to see the Great Hinckley Prairie Fire for myself.







The smoke and heat were impressive, and the amount of fire personnel on the scene - also impressive. It was clear that every precaution was being taken to contain the fire.





Ironically, I had walked Willow past the prairie just yesterday, and almost couldn't believe my eyes when I saw the aftermath. What a change from less than 24 hours ago.









As an added bonus, I found this sitting at the end of my driveway as I pulled in from my little adventure. Maybe it's a threat from some enemy I don't know I have? Either way, I thought it was kinda neat, so I left it sitting ominously near the garage for now.

Moon and stars watermelon seeds