Compost is go

This post is coming late after quite a whirlwind weekend, but I'm just now recovering enough from all the hard work to actually write about it!

I woke up on Saturday morning around 7:00 am, got the farm chores out of the way, and then headed out to one of our local farmer's markets with my mother and stepfather. The Countryside Conversancy market was the first one to open this year, so I figured I'd give them a shot - this is my first season of farmer's markets in my new home, so I haven't quite scoped out my favorites yet.

It turned out to be a great market. It was held in a huge field along a State Park, with volunteers directing traffic for parking, and vendors sprawled out along the field in long rows. The atmosphere was casual and friendly, with a live band playing and lots of laughter and chatting to be heard. I brought Bandit along, who thoroughly enjoyed the trip and made lots of new friends. He is a very shy dog, but by the end of the morning, he was actually making a pest of himself, approaching everyone within reach.

We came home with a tote bag full of fresh, grass-fed beef and buffalo hamburger patties, a dozen pastured, free-range eggs, a basket of monster heirloom Brandywine tomatoes, a bunch of spinach, one of the biggest heads of brocolli I've ever seen, a bag full of wonderfully sweet and crisp snap peas, homemade goat's milk fudge, and homemade chevre. There is really nothing like a farmer's market!

When we got back, we grilled up the hamburgers, and had unexpected company drop in for lunch. The hamburgers were absolutely delicious, and the spinach tossed in a homemade sweet-and-sour dressing was terrific too. Of course, everything tastes better when eaten under sunshine, and with good company to boot.





After lunch, we got to work on the new compost bins. I'd been composting all autumn and winter, but the pile that was sprawled out behind the coop was getting unruly, hungrily eating up the lawn as it spread bigger and bigger. Not to mention that turning it daily was a messy job, and just served to make the place look even more disheveled.

To solve the problem, I designed a 3-bin system behind the barn that allows for seperate composting stages: active (adding new material), curing (already full, just letting it cook), and finished (just like it sounds, storage of the finished compost ready to use). My stepfather and I hauled nearly 100 cement paving stones into place to form the base, then built the timber frame on top. The dimensions of the system are 10' long x 8' deep x 4' tall - plenty of space to accomodate lawn clippings, chicken shavings, fall leaves and whatever else might get thrown in there.

The worst part of the job was actually heaving the compost pile from its old location into the bin. I'm sure I lost about 5 pounds in sweat over a two-hour period of shoveling and raking. Byron came out later in the day and planted new grass seed where the pile had been, so hopefully by the end of the week, new green shoots will be poking through once again.

After all this work, I was really, really happy to have a hammock to come home to. Bandit and I just kinda flopped up onto it together, and I think I was out the minute my head hit the ropes. I don't know how long I napped, but by the time I woke up, my family had come back from their own chores, and we spent the night out at the fire pit eating fudge, pretzels, and buffalo jerky.

If only all weekends could be quite this good!

To-do list

Some days, the to-do list is absolutely overwhelming. Today was one of those days!

I didn't actually accomplish the things on this list today, unfortunately. It's just the list of things I absolutely NEED to do in the next week. It's going to be a rough one:

-Clean out boxes and junk in studio; reorganize and set up furniture; figure out a way to vent the spray booth out the window or wall
-Finish paint touchups on a resin model that needs to be shipped by Friday
-Finish painting yet another resin model that needs to be auctioned off by the end of June
-Buy 5 bags of pine shavings for coop at Smith Bros. Mulch
-Buy 3 bags of chicken feed from Meyer Hatchery
-Clean out chicken coop (see next item)
-Level the ground behind a portion of the barn with extra compost, lay pavers as foundation for compost bin, and build wooden compost bin boxes; fill bin #1 with nearly-finished compost, fill bin #2 with grass clippings and chicken coop shavings
-Plan, and build, veggie gardens; add soil/compost mix and plant seedlings (which unfortunately took a nosedive over the weekend)
-Figure out where the snakes' misting system is leaking and fix it, so the cages can be pushed back against the wall and the room cleaned up

Not to mention all the usual daily chores such as feeding and watering the animals, cleaning the litterbox and kennel, watering plants, normal housechores and cooking.

Anyone want a job as a farm assistant? I can pay you in homemade bread and pasta...

Oh glorious day

We now have a fully-functional hammock.

Bandit's big date

Bandit was a very lucky pup today. A friend of mine invited us over to celebrate the 13th birthday of her Husky girl, Nikki. I'm sure Willow would have loved to tag along, but she doesn't always play nicely with other girls.

Of course, Bandit was very happy to meet such a cute new friend, but he was his typical shy self at first. By the end of the day, they were best buddies, and 13-year-old Nikki was absolutely running circles around him!




Beautiful Nikki is still going strong at 13 years of age. It's a testament to the wonderful care that her owner, Mallory, has provided for her.


At first, Bandit kept a respectful distance from Nikki.


But, it wasn't long before they started to play!


Nikki says, "How about a little kiss?" Bandit says, "Umm... but it's only our first date!"

Close calls

I came close to losing this chick tonight.

I really believe that you are never closer to the cycle and life and death than on a farm. Today was one of those days that really reinforced that belief for me.

Earlier this week, the young Polish chicks I've been raising in my sunroom brooder finally made the journey out to the coop, to join their slightly older flockmates. After a few days of careful separation and supervision, I finally let them free in the coop and pen to forage and sunbathe with the others.

The temperatures were beautiful all week - warm, sunny, and in the mid 70's - but they really took a nosedive earlier today, plummeting back to the mid 50's. I checked the weather, and saw there was a frost advisory for tonight with temps in the 30's! Temps this low just aren't safe for young chicks who have yet to develop all their feathers. Even for adult hens, it means flipping on the heat lamp I keep attached to the coop ceiling.

With these temps in mind, I doubled up in a warm sweatshirt and walked out to the coop to put the girls to bed. I shut them safely in their coop every night, and usually I find them already half-asleep on their roosts by the time I arrive. As I laid down a thick bed of fresh straw to help insulate them overnight, I did my nightly chicken count - and came up short.

One of my young Polish chicks was missing.

As I looked around the pen anxiously, I caught a little scurry of movement out of the corner of my eye. Half-hidden underneath the coop (in a space only 3" off the ground) was the missing Polish, looking tired and a little scared, settling down here and there only to get back up and peep. The woven wire fencing I had installed to block the space under the coop was in vain - apparently there was a back entrance I didn't know about before. The temps still hadn't dropped to dangerous levels, but I knew that if I didn't get her out by nightfall, she would fall asleep under there, and not wake up tomorrow morning. It was a terrible, terrible feeling.

I cut a small hole out of the woven wire fence with bolt cutters, grabbed a handful of grain and threw it in front of the hole. For a little over an hour, as I watched the sun setting, I sat hushed in front of that hole, waiting and praying that the little chick would venture out. Several times she poked her head through, only to disappear again.

Thankfully, she finally did squeeze through the hole - and it was the most wonderful feeling to scoop her up in my hands and carry her safely back to her home in the coop. I lined the chicks' bed with fresh straw and threw down an extra cup of chick feed for her and her siblings, and watched as they all huddled together to sleep. I'm pretty sure it was one of the very best feelings in the world.

I guess close calls like these are just part of the package in this kind of lifestyle. It doesn't bother me - I find it more humbling than anything. I'm willing to accept that next time, sadly, the outcome might not be as good. It's difficult, but for me it provides a sobering reminder of how unpredictable this life really is - and like my little chick, how innocent we can be to that fact, even in the thick of things.

Nights like these

I'm convinced that spring nights on this homestead just couldn't be any better. At least, I wouldn't want to spend them any other way.

As I listen to the crickets chirping and watch the bats start appearing in the skies for the night, I walk through the grass towards the barn in an old pair of flip-flops. The grass is dense and soft - an old pasture variety - with crowds of tiny blue and yellow flowers scattered in spots. I guess they are weeds, but they're so beautiful that I don't mind them at all. A few stray purple violets and white strawberry blossoms are peeking out here and there. Along the fencelines and driveway, tall feathery grasses are growing, and the whole place looks ancient and wild, and beautifully lived-in. (I've never really been a fan of a perfectly-manicured yard.)

As I approach the chickens' coop I can see the light inside streaming out into the yard, with sixteen chicken silhouettes in view. I'll stop and sit down inside the coop for a bit, watching the birds. Most days, they are already resting on their perches, but some days, there is an honest-to-goodness chicken party going on. I don't know what gets them so wired some nights, but I arrive at the coop to find a riot of scratching, pecking, flapping and chirping. All they're missing is the boom box, and it's a pretty funny sight. Sometimes, a hen or two decides to visit me and settle down on my shoulders - I'm not sure what to make of this yet, but as long as they don't think I'm a good place to do their business, I don't really mind.

After the chickens are put to bed, I stroll back across the lawn towards the dogs. Most nights, I get distracted on the way, and end up touring the yard before I make it back to the house and kennel. I observe the new growth in the gardens, the changes in the trees, any critters hanging out in the pond, and finally make it back around to the driveway. Willow and Bandit are practically exploding with full-body tail wags, joyful howls and yips, knowing their dinner is on their way. They sit politely at their door, and I go in with their food in hand. While they eat, I gather up armfuls of fresh straw and stuff it into their houses, then grab the hose to refill their water bucket for the night. After they're done eating, we all settle down on a bench in the kennel (and I really mean, all three of us are on the bench) and I bury my hands in their thick ruff of fur, pet them and tell them how much I love them. When they jump off the bench to wrestle and play, that's my cue to tell them goodnight.

When I finally make it back inside and fling off my flip-flops, I'm usually greeted by one of my housecats - and spend the rest of the night watching TV or on the computer with a warm, purring pile of fur and claws on my lap.

Evenings like these are my absolute favorite. Come summer, they'll be even nicer, since there's a fire pit with aged wood just waiting to be used in the backyard.

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