The politics of spring

When I logged on today, I saw that we are having record spring temperatures across the country. So, I expect most people who have been outside today experienced what I experienced--spring is in the air. One of our broody hen's chicks have been hatching. She started the day with one baby and is already up to 3. Our youngest heifer will have her calf any day now. The pears, blueberries, apples, and plums are in full bloom and the blackberries will join them soon.

So, as I was weeding and hoeing--preparing for the next rain and for planting seedlings next month--the feeling of spring across our country was on my mind. I was thinking, spring is a time when things look bright (literally and figuratively). It is a time when we think about growth and not weeds. It is a time when the future looks sunny, and we don't care to think about the potential of one more killing frost. Though we may know in our hearts it is still early and cannot yet last, it is a time when everything looks fresh and new and possible. And so, our nation's politicians should take note. This is not the time for the "I have a nightmare" speech. This is not the damp and dreary gray of winter. It is "I have a dream" time. Because, at least for today, I can once again envision a country that is full of the promises of spring. I hope you feel it too.

 

Calves
Mood:  a-ok
We are enjoying the calves. Here's the latest picture of Hop-Along and Dusky.

Spring
Mood:  celebratory

Spring is in the air. Oh, I know it is all a joke from Mother Nature and that we will get a killing frost (or two or three) before the true spring is here but that isn't really the spring I am talking about. I'm talking about that spring that brings the promise of new hope, new starts, and bright horizons. It is no coincidence that Easter is in spring.

Last evening our cow Rosie (aka "Mama") had her calf. It was a struggle as she pressed and groaned and strained. The calf has a large head and front feet (the part that is born first). When it became obvious that a little tug would be much appreciated, I grasped the baby's hoofs and with the next contraction, pulled slightly. Two of those assists, and we had a healthy calf.  John and I enjoyed a glass of wine as we sat in the settling dark outside the corral. We've named the calf "Dusk." We think he is a boy.

Of course, with a boy calf comes the knowledge that he will likely be in the freezer come this time next year. That would be sad news except that it also means Winston can continue to live. If he was throwing girls, Winston would have only about a year and a half before he would be headed for the freezer. Genetics. But for now, the babies are cute, the grass is green, and everyone is happy. What a great reminder to live in the moment.

While the cows have been busy, John and I have also been at work. We have been finishing the job our dear friend Eileen helped me start--weeding the blueberries. It is nasty work involving lots of pulling of prickly and thorny plants, digging with tools and hands, sweating, fire ants, and using muscles we don't generally use.  However, I think Eileen would agree that it was actually fun. We chatted and planned and kibitzed and gossiped as we worked. When we finished, we stood back to enjoy the sight of clean rows and happy blueberry plants. There is a sense of accomplishment that comes with farming that is all too rare in other professions. 

Meanwhile, the chickens have also (finally) gotten to work. I don't know if it was the slaughtering we did last week or the feel of spring in the air, or the fresh grasshoppers that have started to appear but they are finally getting off their toofusses (or should I say they are getting on them) and laying some eggs. Yeah!!

Last week as I was working on the taxes and facing the yearly reality of trying to make a profit in farming (or just break even!), I was feeling a bit down but this week all things seem once again to be possible. Perhaps that is the real reason people like us continue to work so hard to make a farm--the unmitigated joy of new hope.

New life!
Mood:  happy

Buffalo Girl has delivered a healthy new calf (see the older post from May 2010 about her first calf.)  We are all happy to be celebrating the event (although I admit this rooster looks underwhelmed.)

The sun also rises
Mood:  happy

I apologize for my last message. Sometimes in December when the days are short and the sunlight is scanty, it is easy to feel overwhelmed. This morning, I heard the guns from the deerhunters, I heard something making a haunting cry, and I saw the sun rise. Life goes on.

This morning I was thinking about how my generation (lagging boomer) was all about reinventing ourselves--which for many of us meant "throwing off the oppressive shackles of family histories" and moving to someplace where we can begin anew. I see generations younger than me who seem to understanding that we cannot avoid our history so we have nothing to gain by all this frantic movement. Instead we lose our roots--our connections to a people and place. As I grow older, I see the tragedy in that.

John and I lived the longest we have ever lived anywhere when we lived in Waycross. Leaving Waycross meant leaving a history we share with many, many students. I find I miss that sense of shared history and it has encouraged me to commit the necessary energy to making a history here. We already have the beginning of roots. We spent so many years connected to this area through our friends--Eric and Becky Larsen, Johnny Bullard, the Prices and the McKenzies. We have a history with the Suwannee River. We our connected to our land. And we have the opportunity to broaden those roots through connections with young people in our local schools. I think I see a new year's resolution--and a new year--rising with the sun.

Raising the white flag
Mood:  don't ask

Last night I finally felt the straw that broke this camel's back. I am ready to admit defeat and to give up on trying to make a profit from farming. The irony is that the straw that did me in was one of Florida's attempts at regulation relief called the "Cottage Rules."

I started to type the explanation but, you know what, I don't even want to try. It's all good. It's just the final straw, not the biggest. This is just me starting to admit what I knew all along.

Feather, cont
Mood:  a-ok

If you enjoyed the saga of Feather, you may be interested in the follow-up. Yesterday, Feather stuck close to his mama and that night she decided to move them both to the big girl house. They are now in the chicken mobile. The picture here is of Feather and his mom (Silky) a few weeks ago when he was still an egg with legs.

This morning, the RI red again set up a squawk. I was much more casual about it (and fully awake) so I strolled out to see if it was another squirrel. It wasn't. Now I know why she was so upset. A chicken hawk was perched on her pen gazing fondly down at her chicken nuggets. It flew away as I got close. I guess I need to listen to her when she yells because she knows what she is talking about!

The saga of Feather
Mood:  accident prone

Feather's story starts about 5 weeks ago. One of the RI red crosses was sitting on 10 eggs. If you know about chickens, you know that the eggs under a hen are rarely all hers. The other hens will add to her collection of eggs as long as she will let them. At some point, the hen will have had enough and will not let them add any more. Then, the long wait begins. For 3 weeks the hen will sit in a meditative state leaving the nest only once a day for 20-30 minutes to grab a quick bite and take care of "business." Then, she is back on the nest. Anyone who has endured 3 weeks of "bedrest" can surely identify with the patience required.

As this particular hen's eggs began to hatch, tragedy struck. The fire ants found her. Usually we are good about moving the hen's cage daily so that the ants aren't a problem but we got busy, or lazy, or forgot. When we checked on her, two chicks had been killed and one hatching egg was already invaded. We moved her and hoped for the best. She hatched all but 2 of the remaining eggs. 

At this point, the first chicks hatched were beginning to get hungry so she needed to tend to them. In addition, she didn't really trust that the ants were gone. So, she took her hatched chicks and left the nest--leaving behind the two unhatched eggs.

Meanwhile, in the back of an old pickup not so far away, a lonely black hen was hoping to hatch an egg of her own. She wanted badly to be a mama but it was getting late in the season--cold would be coming soon and it would be hard to keep chicks warm. In addition, we already had too many chickens. So, we took the eggs from under her each day. We didn't feed her. We didn't give her water. We did what we could do to convince her that now was not the time. Regardless, she  sat patiently on her remaining ceramic egg and waited.

Back to the two eggs in the now empty nest. The day was reasonably warm--but not warm enough for two ready-to-hatch eggs. As the day went on, we knew the chicks inside were dying. Suddenly, near the end of the day (we are slow!), it hit us. We knew of a hen who would welcome these eggs!! 

We moved the eggs immediately. The next morning we checked the back of the pickup and found that one of the eggs had hatched. Feather was born.

That little black hen loved Feather. She called him and taught him to scratch. She showed him how to flap and jump up as high as he could to escape predators. She taught him to eat bugs and pick the best stuff out of the feed.  But, heaven knows, we really didn't need another family to take care of. Each hen and chicks requires daily care. They require moving to fresh grass (and away from ants.) They require daily watering and feeding. The require their own space. We had been doing this with numerous families all summer and we were ready to be done. 

Along came Feather's savior--Boots. Boots offered to pay the $45 it takes to feed a hen and a chick for one year. She made it so much easier for us to justify the daily work of keeping Feather. And, she gave Feather his name.

That was Feather's story until this morning.

Early this morning. as I was thinking about summoning the energy to make coffee, I heard that squawking that any farmer (or caretaker of the young and vulnerable) always has one ear tuned to hear. Something clearly had one of the hens--she was screaming as only a chicken can scream. I dashed out the door--white robe flapping in the 45 degree breeze and bare feet already turning pink from the cold--to realize it was the RI red mama. She was on top of the nest box screaming at the top of her lungs. I quickly looked around for the predator--nothing. Of course, it didn't help that I hadn't yet put on my glasses. Next, I looked for her babies. Last year we had lost an entire clutch of chicks to a predator that was never identified so I expected the worst.

This particular RI red was raised by me so despite the fact that she is a mean little mama to anything that comes near her babies, she trusts me. As she slowly calmed down, first two and then all of her babies came out of their hiding places--under the nesting box, squashed down low and small in the corner, behind the water.

Suddenly, the little black hen started screaming. By then John had joined me. We looked in her cage and realized Feather was gone. Agitated, the little black hen ran back and forth across her cage, screaming for Feather. We let her out and she headed first for the woods. When the fence blocked her, she veered out across the garden still screaming for Feather. 

We searched for evidence of Feather. Unfortunately, with so many chickens ranging the property, there were plenty of feathers--but no Feather. 

We next searched the cage for evidence of the predator. Nothing. We went back inside so I could better dress for a full-on investigation. Meanwhile, the little black hen sat huddled under a tree crooning quietly to herself. Some people do not believe animals mourn. I am sure they do--but they are pragmatic. They know there is a limit to how long they can safely live outside of the moment.

We searched every bit of that cage. We thought perhaps a snake had wiggled in, crushed poor little Feather, and then squeezed back out. But even that should have left some evidence in the chicken wire. I began to think about how I was going to tell Boots. Then, as we turned away to begin the morning chores, I saw a small yellow blur in the cage, It was Feather.

The reunion between mama and baby was a joy to see. I am still smiling.

So, where was Feather? What happened? What we believe happened was something, perhaps a squirrel--perhaps something worse--threatened the family of the RI red. She was a bit close to the woods. She set off the alarm. The babies did what wild babies are supposed to do--they hid. Since Feather and his mom are near the RI red family, Feather also hid. There was a wadded single sheet of newspaper in the corner of the pen that had been in the nest to help keep it warm. Perhaps he hid under it. When his mama checked for him, she didn't find him. That's when she set off the alarm.

And, THAT is the saga of Feather.

Life

Weeding--like other repetitive tasks such as doing dishes, mowing lawns, and cleaning--provides an opportunity for reflection. Right now, I find I have a lot to reflect about.

Two days ago I quit a job that, for me, was toxic. Like a bad marriage where each person brings out the worst in the other, it became clear there was no saving the situation. I've never thought of myself as a quitter but I knew it was the right decision when I felt the flood of relief that comes with choosing the right path.

Today, I was in a reflective mood as I was pulling up coffee weed in the pasture. Coffee weed is invasive and toxic to cattle. Unfortunately, this year we have a LOT of it. Slowly, I realized that all around the coffee weed, around every plant I pulled, was hairy indigo. Hairy indigo is also slightly invasive but it is a legume which makes it a good source of protein for cattle and nitrogen for the soil. I realized, ironically (don't you think), the same conditions that lent themselves to a proliferation of toxic coffee weed also led to the growth of beneficial hairy indigo.

I take great comfort in knowing that.

What we did on "summer vacation"
Mood:  cool
It has been a busy month!! While John continues to grow our farm outside in the 100 degree heat, I have been in AC finishing my patient care certificate, finishing teaching at Waycross College, acquiring a new teaching position at Florida Gateway College in Lake City, and moving. Now I am in Michigan at a technology conference. Check out my first ever camtasia video: Farm Web Tour
COOL!