I've Fallen and I Don't Want to Get Up...

I'm familiar with this feeling in the winter - when I manage to land on my keyster three or four times.  But this morning, I managed to tangle my feet up in the unruly pile of twine (thank you, BOYZ) I was using to reinforce my bean trellises, and landed, face up, next to the bean plants.  And it was actually very nice to be there.  There were lots of puffy clouds in the sky (I spotted a dog, a cow and an airplane cloud), the sheep weren't bleating, there was only birdsong.  It was not too hot, a little breezy, low humidity.  I waved at the dump trucks as they trundled by, just in case they thought they should stop and help the crazy woman.  As if.  I really and seriously thought about staying there.  But, then I remembered I had promised to drop something off to a freecycler, I had to take a shower, I had to change the chicklets brooder paper and water, I had to get dressed for work, I had to .... get up.  So I did.

Just thought you all needed to share in that moment...hehehe.

Meet "X" and "X".

I need help!  I had already decided on names for the two adorable Nigerian Dwarf goats that arrived on Saturday and then...they arrived.  And the names just don't fit.  The wether, the sweetest (and loudest) thing this side of honey, is cuddly.  The doeling, of course, will have nothing to do with me.  Does it seem that these things always turn out cockeyed?  She is the one I will be working with (as in milking) and she is the tough nut.  (Please excuse the bright green markings - they got their ears tattooed and the wether took issue with it - ergo, he is liberally sprinkled with fluorescent green dye.)

Noise and wariness is warranted, as they were ripped out of their birth home, the only familiar place they have known (he was born in January and she in April), placed in a dog crate in the back of my car, were driven through a monsoon complete with thunder and lightning, then transported across my bumpy yard to the alien barn.  It is enough to put anyone off their feed.  The wether had collapsed in my lap by late afternoon, apparently thrilled he was not going to be killed.  She is not so convinced.

I had sectioned off a nice part of the hay barn and put up a roomy fenced in yard for them.  After being doubly careful that I had closed off any cracks they might squeeze through, I was working on the barn door when, to my shock, the doeling appeared in front of me.  On the wrong side of the barrier.  I quickly ushered her through the gate to her bellowing brother, only to find her staring at me five minutes later.  She had squeezed through a space at the end of one of the pallets forming the wall and popped out in the back.  Did I mention they are tiny?  I wedged my post pounder in the hole and that seems to have worked for now.

They need names.  I cannot keep calling them the "Goaties".  And I know y'all are endlessly creative, sensitive, smart, and funny.  So put your name choices in your comments and I will choose their names by the the weekend.

A Challenging Weekend.

My sister was visiting my parents in Vermont this weekend, so that freed me up for a non-stop weekend.  And boy-o-boy was it!  Peaches were purchased (say that five times fast) so peachy-type desserts followed:  peach clafouti and a rustic peach tart; eggs were gathered, washed and toted to the farmers market; the guest bedroom was stripped down, washed, vacuumed and dusted and the flannel sheets were washed (can you tell how often I have overnight guests??); my bedroom was similarly treated; Flora's fleeces (5 x fast) were consolidated into one giant paper leaf bag; brooder was re-papered; weeds were weeded; rabbit cages were cleaned; letters were written; the infamous chicken tractor was thrown together and rouge poulets were released onto clover (twelve feet doing the happy dance); and a long-awaited trip to New Lebanon was accomplished (more on that in another post). 

The day started as a warm, sunny day with just a touch of humidity.  As soon as I got in my car for the half-hour drive, the skies opened up.  So I drove along, wondering if the heavy flannel sheets I had hung on the line would be dry by August.  I drove back with my precious cargo and unloaded it in .... a monsoon.   By the time I slogged into the house, I looked like I had jumped fully-clothed into a pool.  A complete change of clothes later, I was out working with the rabbits - who were scheduled to go to Bunny Heaven (seriously, it's not what you think) on Sunday.  Fifteen minutes later I was, again, inside for a complete change of clothes.

Sunday was a much better day and I built a door for the barn, did more weeding, planted a few things, and worked on rabbits.  The woman who took my rabbits will provide them with an amazing home - they have a covered run with real grass!  And dandelions!  She is just starting out on the exciting journey to spinning and knitting with your own fiber.  I am so happy we found each other and that the bunnies are not here in her capable and loving hands.

Then, all of a sudden, it was Sunday night!  How time flies when you're busy...

It's like building a boat in your basement.

Safely outside, waiting for its chicken wire cover.

Or, in my case, building a chicken tractor (don't look, APG) in my living room.  I have never lied about my complete lack of building skills.  I have a very limited sense of space and dimension.  It took me years to be able to parallel park even a tiny Toyota MR2 (gawd, I loved that car!)  When I decided to provide my Red Rangers a change of venue, I dug around in my 'construction pile' - aka, leftover bits and bobs of prior projects - and found enough 1" PVC pipe to make a tractor large enough for my six birds.  I drew it up, made a list of PVC joints needed and hit Home (away from home) Depot.  Full disclosure here:  it took a total of three trips to get it right.

I pulled out my handy PVC cutter (WHAT?  You don't have one???) and I carefully pieced it together whilst watching a "Murder She Wrote" DVD.  Then I pulled out the super glue and began welding it together.  Well, thank goodness I took a break and mulled over the project before I finalized it!  A little late in the game, I decided to measure it to make sure I would be able to get it out of the living room and out of the house.  NOT.  It was a full 2" too wide to make it through even the sliding glass door.  What to do?  I jacked it over on its side, pounded off the bottom braces and cut each leg 3" shorter.  Then put everything back together again.  If that doesn't work, it will be a neo-modern-classic entertainment center.  Especially when the chicken wire is added....

Happy Dance!

At 9:00 P.M. Eastern time there were 50 bales of freshly baled hay in my barn!  More to come.  Frabious day!  It's better than my birthday!

So, who's the dummy?

I have been raising chicks and integrating them into my flock for five years.  I follow the same routine (more or less):  get chicks; brood chicks in my laundry room until they are feathered out; move them to the chick nursery (aka, the small coop); brood them until it's warm enough outside to put on their screen door; open screen door and introduce them to the WOS (wide open spaces); have them safely meet the big girls through the chicken wire; move them into the big coop.  Start all over again. 

This system has worked wonderfully.  Except for the brooding in the laundry room part, because chicks are very, very dusty and noisy.  But I have limited space and that seems to work best.  Every part of this system has been tested, tried, streamlined.  It works like a charm.  Or, I should say, it had.  This batch of youngsters have been the monkey wrench in my gears.  Things were going along swimmingly until I opened the screen door to widen their horizons.  Getting them out into their little enclosure wasn't the problem.  It was getting them back in.  As the sun set, they would LEAVE the coop and wad together in a corner outside.  Every bloody night.  Then would set in what we referred to as the nightly rodeo, where the large, clumsy, slow-moving person (moi) would run back and forth, trying to corner the buggers.  One night it got particularly exciting as Bernie managed to get inside and "help" me.   I finally gave in and unearthed my butterfly net.

For one whole week, this ocurred every night.  I cursed them as the most stupid chickens on the planet.  I cursed aLOT.  Then, a small, dim bulb of fuzzy memory popped up.  These chicks were started later than I usually start them.  And the temperatures were much higher than usual.  So.....I had taken their brooder light out.  When the sun set, the inside of the coop was darker than outside.  I put their brooder light back in the little coop and turned it on just as twilight began.  They all trooped up the ramp and into the coop. 

I will have to say that, after securing their door for the night, I get some sorry little pleasure yanking the plug on their light.  Dummy, indeed.

It's all those "extras" that make living in the country fun.

Ah, life in the country.  Fresh air, wide open spaces, mice.  I took my car into the garage this morning knowing full well I had a mouse nest in the fan housing under the dashboard.  How?  When I turned on the fan it sounded like the local logging trucks, downshifting around the corner.  And then there was that delightful mousy aroma when the engine got warm.  Mmm-mmm-mmm.  They told me it would be an easy-peasey job - under a half hour, so I made the appointment to give myself an hour.  That would be an hour during which time I arrive with the car, they fix it, I drive to the office.

It was a good thing I decided to pick up donuts for the garage crew on the way there.  They put the tallest, biggest guy to work under my dash.  An hour later, he comes in the waiting room looking pale and the worse for wear.  "I took TWO POUNDS of mouse nest out of your dashboard!" he managed to choke out.  "It was full of grey dog hair.  You must have grey dogs with long hair."  I do not.

"Let me see that mouse nest," I say.

"Oh, lady, don't make me touch that stuff again."

"I don't have grey dogs and they don't have long hair.  This is costing me $75 - I want to see the nest."

He comes back looking even paler - gingerly holding a sheet of newspaper in which lies a huge pile of WHITE RABBIT FUR, assorted sheep wool, leaves, twine, twigs.  Nary a grey dog hair in the lot.

I mollified the poor city boy with donuts and a reassuring pat on the back.  But, really, I drive my car every blessed day.  When are these little buggers building the condo?  Do they have night vision goggles?  What gives???  This is the second and far worse mouse nest in the same place.  I intend to inundate cotton balls with peppermint oil and festoon the inside of my car.

This is war.