Category: Uncategorized (Page 1 of 21)

Our two ewes. Qui is on the left and Notion is on the right.

Sheep are referenced in the bible over 500 times. Most frequently, they are compared to humans.

That is not a compliment.

Having been a shepherd for a whopping five months, I can testify to the sheer insanity of sheep.

They are afraid of everything. They panic unexpectedly and frequently which causes them to bolt in different directions.

Like fluffy, annoying popcorn.

Metal wall in the way of escape? They will attempt to jump through it.

Don’t believe me? Come count the dozens of sheep-shaped dents in our shed.

Patmos, our ram. See the dents in the shed behind him?

Hubs has become an expert at catching sheep in mid-air with the crook. Seriously, he’s reached sheep-ninja status.

We raise Barbados Blackbellies, which are promoted by the Livestock Conservancy in an effort to protect endangered livestock breeds.  Lots of research went into our breed choice. We knew that we wanted hair-sheep, which are used for meat and shed their winter wool without having to be clipped.

Raising sheep for meat was our number one goal until we discovered the Barbados Blackbellies. Now our goals are split equally between preserving the breed and producing quality grass-fed lamb for consumption. Blackbellies are known for their tender, flavorful meat without the common “gamey” taste of wool-sheep.

Our seven acres of pasture land can handle a large number of sheep using a rotating pasture method. Each ewe typically has two to three lambs over three breeding seasons in a two-year period. If we’re lucky, we’ll get six to nine lambs every two years from each ewe.

That’s a lot of insane beings on four-legs in one area.

We need to be smarter than the sheep.

Thankfully the bible says people also come in the goat variety.

Sure they seem cute and innocent with their sweet maas and soulful eyes.

But it’s all a lie.

Goats are smart. Take-you-for-all-your-worth-smart.

They are also great at making up  when they’ve wronged you. So you forgive them. Until they escape again and eat your prettiest rose bush.

Our favorite goat, Skye, has become a master escapegoat. We searched the electric fence for the weak spot. We shocked the bejeezus out of ourselves testing the electric flow. The thing about electric fences? You have to be grounded for the shock to work.

Skye jumps through the middle of the fence. All four hooves are off the ground at the same time. No shock.

She never goes anywhere. She just eats the greener grass on the other side of the fence from her herd, driving them and her livestock guardian dog, Thor, crazy. Her herdmates, Iona and Vaila, are usually the ones who alert us to Skye’s trechery. They sound the alarm that the insubordinate has breeched the perimeter. Again.

Vaila and Iona

One of us walks out to the barn with a grateful Skye running, ears-flopping-in-the-wind-style, to meet us and follow us back into her pen. Why does she escape when all she wants is to get back into the goat yard?

Because she can.

Goats are as curious as cats without all the supernatural balance working in their favor.

We try to be mad at her but she is so darn cute. And friendly. She is the first one to greet you, the first one line up for a rub down.

Skye

We’re toast.

Hmm, toast covered in goat cheese sounds really good. “Babe, do we have any fresh goat cheese?”

Thor and his goats. Don’t let the picture fool you. He’s enormous, more like a baby polar bear.

Bringing a new animal to the farm takes six months to a year of planning before the animal actually becomes part of the family. First, we watch every available YouTube video made by people who are raising the particular animal. Then,  we read every recommended book about raising the animal. Finally, we build structures and fences.

After lots of research about raising hens, we decided that we needed to have a secure structure since we have so many predators in our area.

Cue one unused deer stand, a tractor, and one brilliant husband.

Yes, Hubs actually dragged the deer stand all the way across the pasture with the tractor.

We stripped the deer stand and reinforced it.

The deer stand became the chicken coop and a bunch of woven wire buried twelve inches underground topped with bird netting became the run. Hubs refuses to call it a “coop,” instead it is an “EMP” or “Egg Manufacturing Plant.”

Roosts inside coop. I now have curtains on the nest boxes for privacy. The bottom of the coop is normally covered with pine shavings.

Coop and exterior run. Fort Knox for chickens.

The lower roof of the coop houses the nest boxes.

We brought the first six pullets to the farm in February. We originally purchased six different “breeds”: Speckled Sussex, Australorp, Ameraucana, Gold-laced Wyandotte, Silver-laced Wyandotte, and a Dominique. This turned out to be a smart move. We learned that the Ameraucana was very hardy and a great layer. The Australorp, while a great layer, was frequently broody. Since we don’t have a rooster and the eggs are never fertilized, it became a constant fight for the eggs under her rump.

The most important lesson we’ve learned about chickens?

They die easily.

By July, only three remained. Infected earthworms. Wet grain. Snakes in the coop. If it’s a noun, it probably kills chickens.

By September, we felt ready to raise a new brood of chicks. We purchased four Ameraucanas and six Barred Rocks. The Ameraucanas lay enormous blue and green eggs while the Barred Rocks are reported to lay throughout the winter.

We brooded the chicks in the basement in an old stocktank until they were 8-weeks-old. We then spent a week hardening them off to the outside in a dog cage inside the run. This allowed the adult chickens to be around the chicks without being able to peck them.

We finally turned the chicks loose and, other than normal pecks from the adults, everyone got along famously.  Our coop is now home to thirteen laying hens. Four months and so far, no losses.

The adults have stopped laying for the winter, but come Spring time, we should be egg-rich. I can’t really explain how much fun it is to watch happy chickens run around and catch bugs in their run. How gratifying it is to peek into the coop at night and see chickens roosting. Not to mention opening the nest box door to discover a pile of different colored eggs waiting to be harvested. Like Christmas morning every day of the year.

Yummy!

Want to know why there been so few blogs in the last year?

Yes, I actually read them all.

Chickens, goats, gardens, orchards and a barn … oh my! Seriously, if you had told me six years ago that my life would include raising chickens and dairy goats I would have laughed in your face.

I’ll write blogs on the individual projects going on but I wanted to give an overview. A teaser if you will. Really I’m just begging y’all to forgive my absence.

Barn.

Front of barn.

Back of barn and goat pens.

Goats and Livestock Guardian Dog.

Livestock Guardian dog, Thor, and his goats, Iona, Skye, and Vaila.

Chickens.

Australorp, Silver-laced Wyandotte, 5 Ameracaunas, and 6 Barred Rocks.

This?

Oh just a little light reading 😉

When I was fifteen, my grandfather took me to the county fairgrounds to let me practice for my driving test. He made a big show of leaning his seat back and pulling his hat down over his eyes. He grumbled, “don’t hit anything,” and then pretend to go to sleep.

As I enter the stage of instructing teen drivers I have renewed respect for the man.

Ain’t no way I could pretend to be asleep. I can barely keep up the pretense that I’m not in the passenger seat wetting my pants.

It’s not until you are at the mercy of a child-driver that you realize just how insane we are to cram our very breakable bodies into metal boxes and hurtle ourselves at each other at high rates of speed.

The hyper-vigilance I now experience as a driving instructor to my children has made me the worst kind of backseat driver. I tell everyone how to drive: my friends, my family, people in other cars (yes I know they can’t hear me but it makes me feel better), even Hubs. As you can imagine, that does not go over well.

Is there such a thing as driving-instructor rehabilitation? A dimly lit room where parents can declare their names and admit that they are backseat drivers? A circle of chairs where parents can share their horror stories without judgment? A quiet, windowless room where you can escape the steady cries of, “stop telling me how to drive,”  or my favorite, “the state says I’m a good driver so leave me alone!”

The worst part is knowing I have to do it all again. Two. More. Times. So when you run into me in a few years and I stare back with glassy eyes beneath my one remaining gray hair, twitching every time a car passes, you’ll know I gave it my all. I may end up a shell of my former self, but my kids will be good drivers.

You’re welcome.

Did you know that the National Geographic Unites States Atlas reports that Texas has a Texas Bigfoot Research Center?

It’s true.

According to National Geographic publishers, Bigfoot (a.k.a. Wooly Booger), has been reported in Texas since the land was primarily inhabited by Indians.

And those other states, like Washington, that have laws against hunting and killing Bigfoot? Nutters. It’s perfectly legal to bring big guns for the hunt of a lifetime in Texas since Bigfoot is indigenous to the Lone Star state.

Want to find out if Bigfoot has been sighted in your area? Check out the Bigfoot Field Research Organization’s chart for sightings by state and county.