The Conclusion of the Chester Saga

Here it is, short and sweet.  Chester lost his Pine Ridge Farm privileges.  He roosted on the porch, crowing indignantly when we didn't let him in at night, or carry him and pet him.  He failed to recognize his chicken-hood and the hood didn't recognize him either.  Thinking perhaps the dog was more his style, he followed Hoover, our golden retriever.  Chester crowed at random moments jumping in the air, wings flapping, to play. Hoover freaked out, ran, and hid.

The last straw was when he flew at Ryan, attacking with his spurs and beak.  After leaving a message on the answering machine, the Big Guy returned him to the neighbor's outdoor kennel.  That same week I received a lovely note from Chester's owner apologizing for any damages and wishing us a happy Thanksgiving. Long live Chester the (un-fried?  pre-fried?) Chicken!

Perhaps Henny Penny will make an appearance this spring and they'll live happily ever after.  One can only hope.

Not By the Hair of My Chinny-Chin-Chin

Chester tried to roost outside the kitchen window Thursday night while we were eating supper. If you look, you will see him looking in.  What you may not know is that this window is fondly called "Cat T.V."  It's where the birdfeeder is.  Wow!  What a catch.

This morning we let Grace sleep in.  Laura and I let Bubby, the cow, in for corn.  We had to work to keep the sheep from following him and to avoid his bouncing hooves as he likes to dance and play.

We also had one egg hatch over night.  I'm excited to see how many more we'll have.

Unfortunately, Hoover found part of a rotten egg to roll in.  EWWW!

Laura and Hoover,

More to follow...

Chester the Rooster

"That's ONE messed-up chicken!"  the Big Guy declares each time he comes in through the back door.

Chester, the rooster, arrived at our house Sunday afternoon.  To keep a long story long, he was hatched from one of our eggs in a kindergarten room last spring.  As an alternative to slaying-by-cat, one of our neighbors adopted him.  He has spent the last 5 months in a chicken-sized kennel, sleeping indoors.  Petted, preened, and primped.  Until now.

Now Chester has moved to the farm.  Next spring his owner hopes to have a chicken coop and perhaps even a Henny-Penny chicken to keep him company.  Apparently Chester doesn't know he's a chicken.  A dog?  Perhaps.  A person?  More likely.  He runs to greet us then puffs out his feathers and struts around us in a circle as if he's going to attack.  We really don't know how to greet him.  He avoids the other chickens.  He sleeps in the tree--or under the porch--maybe even in the doghouse.  He sampled pasture life with the cow and sheep, but that wasn't much to his liking.  This could be an interesting saga.

Stay tuned for future updates on Chester the Chicken.

Passing and Moving On

It was a difficult day at Pine Ridge Farm yesterday.  Pretty, our faithful farm dog, was hit trying to cross the road.  I won't go into great detail.

We waited until everyone was home from school to tell the children.  In this new age of technology, I couldn't even share my grief on Facebook for fear someone would tell the children before they got home!

In planning the week, I saw an opening for last night and planned a time-intensive meal--meatloaf, homemade mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli, and fudge pudding cake--not taking into account a funeral.

So, as the potatoes boiled and the meatloaf baked, we made our way to the barn for one last goodbye.

Her leg was hurt, so the Big Guy covered it with a barn towel, but otherwise she was just our Pretty--quiet and serene.  Grief is an interesting thing.  There is a longing, a fascination, but there is also an avoidance and desire to get away.

As we left, the Big Guy loaded the pallet with the tractor and took her to the back pasture for a proper burial alongside her brother.  Unfortunately, he left the gate open.  I had just drained the potatoes when Laura came in to tell me Bubby (Grace's calf) had escaped the pasture.  I jumped into my flip flops and ran out to corral the big stinker only to find him contentedly munching on nearby grass.  The Big Guy shooed him back in the gate....

and life goes on...

To Market, To Market

Rachael and Grace with a load of lambs for market.

"What do you do with your lambs?"

Since we had baby lambs in January we took them to market in May (market lambs should weigh 50-70 pounds).  We usually load them in the back of the truck and set a wooden guard around its perimeter.  But this year Matthew reinforced the wooden guard with discarded choral performance shells and loaded it on a trailer we use to move lawn mowers and our ATV.

(You might notice our smokehouse (on the left) and outhouse (seats 4 at a time) in the background.)

All six of us piled into the pickup truck and drove 45 minutes to the sale barn (where they sell sheep every Wednesday).

Once there the Big Guy backed up to the unloading dock.  We all "helped" unload the 16 lambs and herd them down the alley.

A family-building experience wouldn't be complete without a stop at the A&W on the way home.  Mission complete.

What's New?

Life changed pace at our house in March.  Mom/Wife/The All-for-One,  took a long-term subbing position at the local high school (until the end of the school year).  Needless to say, life on Pine Ridge Farm did not slow down.  In the time since we last documented Iowa farm life, this is what has happened:

We bought 15 chicks from the farm store.  7 of them survived Julian, the mighty feline hunter.

The Big Guy and Matthew spent an evening wrestling with the rototiller.  They removed the head and manually compressed the frozen exhaust valve.  After an initial start, it failed to perform.  Other than the hardy rhubarb, mint, and flagged tulips, the garden has reverted to its original state of sin.

We ran out of room for farm equipment over the winter, and had the resources to add on to our existing shop.

Our friends, Brad & Jess, had hoped to find a new home for their St. Bernard, Missy.  She is a wonderful dog and we enjoyed having her at our house for a week or two until she started eating chicken-sicles.  She returned to Brad & Jess and is awaiting a poulty-free home.

The praying mantis kit Laura received at Christmas is alive with a myriad of fascinating, carnivorous creatures.  We are learning to set live traps for ants and fruit flies.  Whooping with glee at each success, it's a relief to look over one's shoulder in embarrassment and realize there is no one there.

The Big Guy planted a number of fruit trees in what is now the "new orchard."  He bought 12 trees:  peach, apple, cherry, pear, plum.  He is hoping to supply the girls with fruit for their summer pie stand--even if it takes a year or two.

The shop construction is finished on the outside.  The Big Guy completed the electrical work, but there is still dirt work and floor work to do.  Due to our photographer's full schedule, we were not able to document spring planting, which the Lord blessed marvelously.  The corn and bean are tucked in and growing well.

Finally, this is what greeted me when I got home from school today.  It's a functional piece of equipment that combines Matthew's love for ag mechanics, music, and his genetic predisposition to pilfer other people's junk.  More on that next time....

Signs of Spring

Yesterday the Big Guy and Laura saw the first of the robins.  It must be spring.
Last week it was warm enough to clean the chicken coop for the first time since winter it.  It must be spring.

You're right--it doesn't necessarily look like spring, but it was 40 degrees outside!  The snow was melting and, as it turns out, it was a perfect day for cleaning the inside of the chicken coop.

Hoover was most helpful as I opened the trap door and laid out the tarp.  As I got into the project, I found that the mess itself was frozen enough to pick up and throw out the door easily.  Most of the chickens made their way outside.  There were a few, however, who chose chaos in familiar surroundings over having wet, cold "feet."

I hauled the full tarp out to the pasture, and couldn't pass up taking a picture to show you.  Off to the left is a 1900's baler that happened to be in the way when a Linden tree grew up through it.  The pile on the ground to the right is the load from the chicken coop that will provide great legume fertilizer for the sheep's grass. 

I had thrown down hay from the hay mow in the barn when the school bus arrived with Grace, Rachael, and Laura.  Grace came to give me hand, and the chore was quickly finished.  Hurray!  Spring is nearly here!