Wednesday Dose of Cute: Other People's Cute, Tractor Woes, and a Little Barnyard Animal Challenge

Many of you have expressed an interest in hearing more about what my day to day life is like out here in the country—both the good and the bad parts—so lately I've been trying to include more farm life tidbits and stories in some of my posts. I'm also still working that Frequently Asked Farmgirl Questions page. The FAFQ page is up!

There are so many things I've learned during the past 16 years that I simply take for granted, until I stop and remind myself things like there was a time when I had no idea what a bottle baby was, let alone anything about taking care of one, and that maybe you'd like to know something about them, too, rather than just seeing the pictures.

Of course once I start writing I have a tendency to ramble on, and since I'm not a very fast writer, these sort of posts take me a while to complete. My goal is to get back to sharing something here every day, with longer posts interspersed between the shorter ones, along with lots more recipes.

If you enjoy these farm life tidbits and stories and would like to see more of them, I'd love for you to let me know. And if you come here more for the pictures than the words, please let me know that, too! Anonymous comments can be left, and you're also welcome to email me: farmgirlfare AT gmail DOT com. It can sometimes take me a while to reply to e-mail, but as always, your feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you.

Monday Dose of Lamb Cute: Cleaning Up and Growing Up

Daisy Mae and her brand new baby girl on April 2nd

Sunday Dose of Cute: How and Why We Added Katahdin Hair Sheep to Our Flock

Katahdin cute overload

It's a funny thing about our sheep shearer—he raises sheep that don't need to be sheared. They're Katahdins, and this hardy breed has hair rather than wool that, as you can see here, comes off each year on its own.

One of the biggest problems we face raising our mostly Suffolk meat sheep here in Missouri is internal parasites, specifically a blood sucking stomach worm known as the barber pole or wire worm. For much of the year it's wet and warm here, which, unfortunately, is Parasite Paradise.

Despite agressively using both commercial and natural wormers, we've lost numerous sheep over the years to worms—and we've been comparatively lucky. I know of one farmer who had most of her flock drop dead from internal parasites—the day after they'd been wormed.

It's terrible. And while there were many benefits to having that extra rain during the past two springs and summers, it made the parasite problem even worse.

Tuesday Dose of Cute: Sheep Shearing Day 2010

First victim!

Lots more below. . .

Monday Farm Photo: Somebody's Laying Green Eggs

Woohoo!

"How many chickens do you have now?" asked my foodie mom, who thoroughly enjoyed some breakfasts of fresh fried eggs on toasted Farmhouse White during her recent holiday visit.

"Seventeen."

"Seventeen? How'd you get so many?"

"They just keep hatching!"

"Oh, that's right—you have a rooster now."

I've been raising chickens for 10 years, and our eggs have always been brown or white. The white hens lay white eggs, the brown hens lay brown eggs, and the black hens lay brown eggs, though Joe says he's had white hens who laid brown eggs.

Back in June 2007, when little old Whitey got her motherly wish and was given a dozen fertilized eggs to sit on, three of those eggs were green (scroll down the page on the above link to see them)—and at least one of them produced a chick. Several of the seven chicks that Whitey hatched turned out to be roosters, and none of the hens lays green eggs.

But the six hens born last April, who are all related to Whitey's original chicks, have recently started laying (which means we're now averaging 49 eggs a week!), and one of them is giving us green eggs. The other five are laying brown eggs of various shades, even though one of the hens is white. I think the green egg layer is the gorgeous black and white one you can see in the top of this photo, but I don't know for sure.

What I do know is that I've always loved green eggs. Some people say the color doesn't affect the flavor, but it's always seemed to me that the green ones taste just a little bit better. Whether they really do or not, I'm thrilled to finally have some.

Chickens and eggs that came before:
7/1/07: On Loving Lettuce and Eggs on Salad for Breakfast
4/20/08: Chick Days Are Here! (Hatching Photos)
11/11/08: Farm Fresh Eggs, They're What's for Breakfast
3/7/09: Cluck! Cluck! Cluck! Ouch.
10/25/09: Egg Layers, the Next Generation
Links to lots more chick pics

© Copyright 2010 FarmgirlFare.com, the ready for Easter foodie farm blog where all we need now is some ham.

Thursday Farm Photo: Surf's Up!

The No Crossing Zone Is Back

This is where everybody usually crosses when our usually meandering little wet weather creek is running. Not today. It isn't quite the raging river it turned into last month, though there is supposed to be another storm hitting tonight. We definitely won't be driving through this anytime soon.

Fortunately earlier today I was able to ford the creek further upstream on foot, but only after taking all sorts of safety precautions as demanded by my visiting and very concerned mother. I was decked out in ratty sneakers (so my rubber boots didn't fill with water and drag me down), thin summer pajama pants (so my heavy denim overalls didn't fill with water and drag me down) rolled up above my knees, and my old glasses (so my new ones didn't wash downstream).

I was holding an enormous stick to keep me from losing my balance and washing downstream and had two syringes full of penicillin for the ewe battling mastitis poking out of one shirt pocket and a bottle of milk for her lamb in the other. I was quite the vision.

My mother also gave me instructions on how I should position myself when the water did start carrying me away - on my back with my feet out in front of me - which is apparently what you they tell you to do if you fall overboard when you're on a white water river rafting adventure. She goes on those sorts of adventures; I don't.

The good news is I survived - and barely got my knees wet. The better news is that all the animals are okay, and none of our very pregnant ewes decided to have a baby (or two) during the seven hours I wasn't able to get down to the barn today. Just cross your fingers that they cross their legs until tomorrow, because my mother says I'm not allowed to cross the creek for my nightly 3 a.m. lamb check, even though I told her she could come along and hold the spotlight so she'd be able to see if I was in the correct position when I started to wash downstream.*

© 2008 FarmgirlFare.com, the soaking wet foodie farm blog where the action and adventures never stop when you're living the so-called quiet, peaceful, simple country life.

* All lightheartedness aside, venturing into moving water can be extremely dangerous, and I know this from firsthand experience. The reason my mother was extra concerned today is because several years ago while she was visiting, the creek got up about 70 feet wide, and it rose so fast during the short time I was down at the barn that on my way back I was knocked down, pulled underwater, and seriously thought I was going to drown - and that was while holding onto a guide rope tied to two posts. It was only because she and a friend were holding onto either end of the rope and were able to lift my head up out of the water that I survived.

It only takes a foot of fast moving water to wash away a car. When you come to a flooded area, the rule of thumb is this: If you have to stop and ask yourself if it's okay to cross, then it's not okay to cross. Stay safe.

Farm Photo 10/19/07: New Face In The Cat Cabin

Leave It To Patchy Cat

Many of you know that last June our beloved New Cat died suddenly, most likely from a poisonous snake bite. And while my heart still aches for him, no one was more brokenhearted by New Cat's death than J2, who was his constant companion. I've never known two cats who were better friends. The two of them lived together in The Cat Cabin, and each night they curled up on their pink wool bed.

It was over a week after New Cat's death before I finally saw J2 come out of The Cat Cabin, and I was worried about him. In this June 16th update I wrote:

I explained to J2 that I understand how lonely he is and assured him that a new feline friend would be bunking with him soon. I have no doubt that another cat in need of a home will find us. They always do.

In the meantime, the height of snake season is not when you want to bring a new cat onto a farm. Enter Patchy Cat. Leave it to our efficient Farm Boss to spot not only a fellow feline in desperate need of a pal, but an available spot on a cozy wool bed as well. In seven years, The Cat Cabin is about the only place on the farm I hadn't ever seen Patchy Cat. J2 is thrilled that he's moved in.

Want to see more?
You'll find plenty of farm cat photos & cat stories here.

© 2007 FarmgirlFare.com, the feline loving foodie farm blog where Farmgirl Susan shares stories & photos of her crazy country life on 240 remote acres—and you can never have too many cats.

Farm Photo 2/11/07: Cary's First Woolcut

Scenes From Sheep Shearing Day 2007

Cary before. . .



Cary during. . .

More photos and story below. . .

Daily Farm Photo 5/12/06: Who's Sog-gy Now?

C'mon, sing along!

Lamb Report: Shortly before I did a midnight barn check last night, little Alison (the co-star of my very first blog post, An Unexpected Beginning) had a very big baby girl. I'm talking so big I thought somebody's two week old lamb was standing next to her. Mother and daughter are doing fine and relaxing at the Bonding Suite Inn.

Alison has become my new favorite sheep, but I'll have to wait a day or two before I tell you why. Just keep your fingers, hooves, and paws crossed that my plan works. Current Lamb Count: 22.

Number of lambs back to bouncing: Pretty much all of them. Number of half-asleep mothers who were run over, jumped on, and generally trampled by a pack of gregarious bouncing lambs around midnight last night: Pretty much all of them. Number of farmgirls wondering if sheep might in fact be safer if we turned off Alice Cooper Nights on Non-Stop Classic Rock Radio: 1.


Donkey Report: A farrier is coming this afternoon to give Donkey Doodle Dandy (who is not halter trained and who I don't believe has ever had his feet worked on) a much needed pedicure.

My first question for the farrier: "So do you work on donkeys?"

"Well, we don't really like to, but. . ."

Best question farrier asked me: "Is he, uh, all jack?" (Long pause.) "Or is he castrated?"

"Oh, he's all here!"

Questions I forgot to ask: How much this is going to cost. And if he could please bring a sedative (for each of us).

I said I could probably get Dan into a pen about the size of a large living room. It was requested that I put him somewhere much smaller. My Plan A Trap could apparently be smelled a mile away. My Plan B Trap has a donkey in it. This ought to be interesting. The farrier is bringing his son as backup. I'm baking chocolate chip cookies. Whatever else happens, at least we'll have cookies.

I know I should probably invent some new kind of sweet treat and call them Donkey Doodle Dandy Bars (catchy, isn't it?), but there just isn't time. However, depending on the farrier's rates (which I think kept going up each time I answered another question about Dan yesterday), I may have to resort to creating and marketing a few thousand of them—or something else I've been thinking about. I'll let you know. This is all, of course, assuming they can even find the farm.

© FarmgirlFare.com

When? Soon. Living on Country Time

When will you let me out of here?

Life in the country moves at a decidedly slower pace than it does in the city, and that's just fine with me. It's nice to know that when you finally get around to introducing yourself to a neighbor, they don't think it the least bit odd that it's taken you three years to do so.

Everything eventually gets done. It just might not get done in a timely manner.

Along those same lines, people in the country rarely expect to be pinned down to an exact time frame for anything. I completely understand this, as I know how often unexpected delays tend to jump into your way.

We are almost always late for everything, and although you can't get away with the classic, "You wouldn't believe the traffic!" excuse out here, pretty much any other explanation will put you in the clear. Dogs had an armadillo trapped under the camper? Baby goat in the middle of the highway? Triplets born just as you were about to leave the house? I've used them all.

But sometimes you really want to know exactly when something is going to happen, or at least get a rough idea. For instance, you hang up the phone after negotiating the delivery of a load of desperately needed firewood only to realize that the conversation ended with the seller simply saying, "Okay then. We'll be seeing you." Wait. Wait. When? You have been given absolutely no clue.

I quickly learned the subtle art of casually inquiring as to when something might be expected to happen. And no matter what the situation, I would receive the same answer: "In a bit."

"So, um, when do you think you'll have that tire fixed?"

"Oh, in a bit."

"What time did you say you expect her home?"

"Well, let's see now. She should be back in a bit."

"And you figure you'll be bringing over that firewood when?"

"In a bit."

At first I thought I was getting somewhere. And then I realized that "a bit" has absolutely no set real-time definition. From what I have been able to figure out over the past 11 years, it can mean anything from 30 minutes to a week and a half. But as I said, everything does get done—eventually.

So why am I explaining all of this? Because lately I have come to realize that I have wholeheartedly adopted this handy, yet often irritating, vagueness. Only I don't say "in a bit." I say "soon." It's my standard answer to when I'm going to do something, and I use it quite often, including on this blog.

And so, for the sake of those who do not run on country time and are wondering, say, when in the heck I am going to get around to writing out the rest of those bread baking tips, or finally posting a recipe I promised I would share, I feel I should clarify what exactly I mean by "soon." Let's figure anywhere from an hour to a couple of weeks, with "very soon" definitely falling closer to the one hour mark.

And if it takes me longer than that? Well, you know I'll have a great excuse—and it won't have anything to do with the traffic. See you soon.

© FarmgirlFare.com, never on time, always with a story.