Pourdown

I just came in from feeding horses and chickens, but stood outside with my dogs for a few extra minutes in the downpour, and marveled at the perfect silhouette of the huge old elm tree in the fading dusk. Light like that isn't possible without the rain to suffuse the glow.

I should not be left unsupervised

...at any sort of livestock show. Yesterday morning it was the Boston Poultry Expo. I just went to look, I swear. I was hoping to find that someone there raised a particular breed of dual-purpose chicken that I am interested in acquiring, a hard-to-find breed called Blue Orpington. Buff Orpingtons are everywhere, and Black Orpingtons are fairly common as well. Blues, however, were nowhere to be found. My intent was merely to make a connection and acquire some chicks or mature birds at a later date. Seeing no Blue Orpingtons in the show cages, I wandered on outside to the parking lot where there were birds for sale. Still no Blue Orpies. But, sticking out like sore thumb was one lone blue bantam Aracuana chick in a cage of ducklings. Sooooo, long story short, I bought it. And because you can't raise a chick alone, I got four Cornish Giant chicks too. Little chick blue is henceforth to be known as "Storm", because I don't know, or care, whether it is male or female. The Cornish chicks are named Potato, Carrot, Onion, and Gravy; and are destined to become dinner.

Cornish Giants are a purely meat bird, and if allowed to keep growing past slaughter weight they quickly reach a point where their legs and hearts cannot support their bodies for a normal chicken life. So they are frankenbirds, not what I envisioned raising on this here piece of earth but they're my first try at raising my own meat, and I hope it will help to know that if they are not slaughtered, their quality of life would be horrible. That's my theory, anyway. I'll let you know if it works out that way three months hence.

Here are the little fluffballs, comfortably ensconced in the brooder box:

Tornadoes to Rainbows

In 24 hours, no less. I spent yesterday afternoon and evening hunkered down in my basement with my doggies, waiting for the world to be rearranged. Thankfully, me and mine were spared. Other towns just to my south were not so fortunate. Utter devastation. This isn't supposed to happen here. Sure, every year we get an EF-0 or EF-1 twister that blows the lawn furniture around, maybe peels some shingles off a few roofs, but nothing like this. This was no joke, and I'm glad I took it seriously. I did come up a few times, thinking it was over, but each time I did a new warning would be issued in minutes, the 2nd and 3rd wave storms following the same path as the first. Intense is not strong enough a description. I've heard surreal used a lot today, I've used ugly, usually capitalized - UGLY! It was that.

My neighbor, braver and/or more foolish than I, actually saw the tornado, in the distance, from his upstairs window. I saw enough warning signs in the sky and clouds as the thunder began to rumble that I closed the horses up tight in their shedrow and was not surprised to see the tornado warning as soon as I got back inside. I also saw, through the opaque basement windows, the light outside grow dim and take on that greenish-black color of a bad bruise. If I never see that tint again it will be too soon.

This was not my first tornado experience. Naturally, tornadoes are my one phobia. I dealt with this throughout my childhood by educating myself about them as much as possible. I probably should have become a meteorologist. So I already had a plan and knew just what to grab when the warning came up on my screen. Dogs, flashlight, cell phone; check, check, check. Grab 'em and go. I was anxious but not scared. I felt prepared. I am more freaked about it now than I was at the time. Probably because I have been looking at pictures all day, letting the what-if's run through my head.

This should be self-explanatory but obviously isn't...

To my regular readers; those of you who read this blog because you care about me (in a good way), and read my words in order to encourage me on my journey, I love you all (Movie - blogger ate your comment when it went down last week - sorry!). Please bear with me for a short while, the below paragraph is not intended for you.

This is my blog. There are many like it, but this one is mine. If you don't like what I have to say, fuck off and stop coming back. This blog is where I express my opinions. My opinions are formed in the crucible of my personal experience. You factor negatively in that experience. This is your own doing. Your opinions and experiences are different. I don't care. If you can't comment here, it's because I don't want to hear from you. If you have something to say here, own it. If I think it has merit, I'll publish it, if it doesn't I will not. You are of course free to disagree with me. Do it elsewhere. Start your own blog. Rest assured I will never read it.

Really? You're even trashier than I thought.

Wondered why you'd been all over the blog again. Also wondered why the contact lenses that I ordered hadn't shown up. Turns out they were delivered two weeks ago. A brief hunt revealed the torn-open plastic bag they'd been dropped off in, tossed in the tall grass across the street. Happily, they'll be replaced at no charge. Apparently, pieces of shit like you do this all the time, the nice lady at the eye doctor's office was not in the least surprised. I guess if stealing contact lenses is the only way to pay for your dope, you've gotta do what you've gotta do, right? What a burnout loser you are. How many of those bandstand checks went right into your personal account? Methinks an audit is in order. Thanks for that friendly mailing with the other committee members' names. That's about to come in very handy! :)

Spring Has Hatched

Spring has sprung, in the form of oh-so-slightly milder temperatures - translation: above freezing for three days in a row, no less - and nights that have moderated enough that I don't have to run the hot water tap to prevent a frozen pipe. Sugar shacks all over the region (here's a good one the next town over) are starting to boil the sap of sugar maples (Acer saccharum) into pure New England deliciousness. The first green shoots of new grass are seen in the otherwise boggy mess of mud underfoot, and the magnolia and forsythia have buds that are swelling fast, promising to bloom as soon as April rolls around.

Another favorite milestone today - daylight savings time! I know most folks hate losing an hour of sleep, but in my case it means my puppy alarm clock, aka Mooney, permanently set for 4am standard time, now doesn't go off until 5! It's amazing what a difference that makes mentally. There are days when I must be up and about earlier than 5 to get where I need to go for work, here's hoping they are infrequent enough to keep him on this new, later hour.

In other news, spring is also being heralded by the peeping of eight chicks in a brooder (I'm calling it Henway Park, it's a blue monster of a rubbermaid bin) in my garage. All *should* grow up to be laying hens. I say should as there is always the possibility that the hatchery accidentally on purpose included a rooster. If that should be the case, his future depends on how docile he is. Docile = live long and prosper, not so much = the backyard version of the french revolution. Damn I hope they are all the girls they're supposed to be.

Here they are when I brought them home, at one week old:


And here they are one short week later, having doubled in size and already shedding their downy baby fluff and growing their adult plumage:


I cleaned the brooder out completely today and added a training roost. They're trying it out by ones and twos, wobbling all over the place, flapping their wings for balance. Funny stuff. Farm TV - season one, episode one.

These girls came home with me from a workshop at Cold Antler Farm in that lovely part of extreme eastern New York known as "Veryork". Jenna, the proprietor, writes a fabulous blog about her own journey to farmhood. She generously shared some of her hard-won knowledge with ten neophytes last weekend. She also generously gave me more chickens than had been promised, due to people who canceled or who were not ready to bring chicks home quite yet. So instead of one of each breed, I am now proudly owned by four Rhode Island Reds, two Buff Orpingtons (both heritage breeds), and two Ameracaunas, those wondrous layers of pre-colored easter eggs. They lay eggs in various shades of blue, green, or pink. Fascinating chicken fact - the color of a chicken's earlobes (who knew they had earlobes, right?) indicates what color eggs they will lay. Oh, the things I don't know but love to learn!

Into the deep freeze

I took time out of my day today to go join the Bay Colony Pomeranian Club at their monthly luncheon. Great group of very knowledgeable people. Having been intending to join for some time, it felt good to cross that off my to-do list, BUT I feel somewhat less prepared for tonight's extreme cold than I wanted to be. I did everything I planned to do to prepare, really, with the exception of filling up the car's gas tank; but since it is kept in the garage I hope that won't be a problem. I'll feel bad for the attendant when I stop at the full serve station in the morning though! Since I live in the middle of nowhere and it's Sunday night, both stations are already closed or I would go out now. I hate when I remember things like that just a few minutes too late. Like remembering the need to go to the post office or bank at precisely 12:02 on a Saturday. I do that constantly.

It's supposed to go down to -20 dF here tonight, with wind chills to -35. That's 20 with a negative. That's unholy cold. My horses have been given obscene amounts of hay, digesting it helps keep them warm, and they all have heated water buckets as well. I typically put them out in the corral when I leave for work in the morning, but tomorrow they will have to stay in, there is no windbreak in their paddock and frostbitten ears is the last thing I need to deal with. Makes stall cleaning harder but that's a small price to pay. The dogs are pretty sensible and do their outside business in record time when it's so cold, but their little paw pads can get frostbitten if they stay out too long.

Having enjoyed (not!) 48 hours without hot water earlier this week when the pipe under the house froze, the water will be running all night too. I did not enjoy my time in the crawlspace thawing it out, either. I can, and do, do without a lot, but hot water is a non-negotiable modern amenity, one of the wonders of the world, and balm for both the soul and the tired sore body after a day of farm work.

For everyone who wanted an update on Henry (formerly Kris Kringle formerly Crusty), he is, alive, well, and wreaking havoc at my sister's house. In a twist of fate even odder than the ones I mentioned in my original post about him, it turns out that at the same day and hour I was chasing Henry into the cow barn, my sister had to have her sweet cat Pumpkin put to sleep, completely unexpectedly. That felt a little to synchronous and serendipitous to ignore, so, having doubled his weight during two weeks at DarcC's all-you-can-eat buffet and a follow-up appointment with the vet, I handed him over along with all food, toys, and vet records he had already accumulated, with the admonishment that "there is no such thing as a free kitten." Henry is now comfortably ensconced in said sister's household, where he enjoyed climbing the xmas tree (until they took it down - early!), tormenting their sweet dog Buddy, and playing with my nephews. As soon as the antibiotics kicked in and Henry started perking up, he, smart kitty, realized precisely how good life and human attention could be! He is an absolute doll, and far too sweet to be the barn cat I thought he would be. Below are some pics of Henry in his new home. Here's what sister said when she sent the pics: "He is so cute!!!! He's a good boy, we all love him except when the boys are putting together legos, Henry loves legos too, and the boys get annoyed. But they love him too."





A far cry from the crusty, shivering, mucus-oozing bone-rack that huddled in a dog crate here for the first warm night of his life one short month ago.

Stay warm y'all!