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Doodles in the Winter

I started calling them “Chickie Doodles,” then I just shortened it to “Doodles.” “Keith, have you let the Doodles in?” “I’m going to feed the Doodles.” Anyway, I looked out my home office window to this little scene.


We decided to retire early tonight to watch The Dictator in bed. I said, “Not it” and so Keith had to go out to put the chickens away. I pulled out my phone to play a little Free Cell.

I got a text.

“I need help.”

I went outside to find Keith looking straight up. One of the Barred Rocks (my favorites) was on top of the coop. Everyone else was inside.

How is it that I somehow found MYSELF on top of a ladder in my pajamas trying to catch a chicken? I ask this in earnest because that is what happened.

She shied away from me and Keith was able to grab her from the other side. We almost high-fived.

We are a good team. Today, one of the Orpingtons had an 18inch long stream of flypaper stuck across ALL of her rear feathers. We had to catch her, not an easy feat, gently extract each feather and then she lay on her back in my lap while Keith got a cloth wet with hot water.

I was surprised she let me wipe each feather not to mention lay like that in my lap. We put her down and she ran for the ear of corn we put in the ground as bait-already being devoured by the others. We almost high-fived then too.

Both times, we realized we aren’t high-fivers and I just gave him a little pat on the ass. You know, that’s the equivalent of a “married-couple high five.” Look it up.


I just witnessed chicken rape. Jerry chased one of the Barred Rocks (a younger one) through most of the backyard, then had his way with her once he caught her. Kids, sex between a rooster and a hen is a natural thing, an act of love. When a mommy chicken and a daddy chicken…Oh who am I kidding? I need to go wash my eyeballs.


Jerry the Rooster

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2 Blonde Bitches

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I haven’t blogged in a while and have this feeling of guilt about it that I can’t shake. I can’t say I’ve been busy, really, I just have been focusing on other things.

The summer has flown by and we’re looking at Labor Day. What the hell? Instead of updating you, my gentle readers, on what I’ve done this summer, let me tell you what I haven’t done…

  • Weeded
  • Put a fence around the garden to prevent the bunnies from eating all my green beans

I loved those fresh green beans. Stupid bunnies. Or groundhog, or chickens, or whatever creature ate them to the nub. Curse you.

Chickens are having fun hanging out in the back yard. And the front yard. And the side yard. And in the neighbor’s yard. And the other neighbor’s yard. Sheesh. We’ll probably get a call next week from Betty’s Kitchen letting us know that the flock is in line for a diner seat. I have to admit, I really like owning chickens. They aren’t laying eggs yet. I don’t care. They are so funny. They put their heads really low to the ground when they run.  Hilarious. They make funny noises too. Jerry is the loudest. Not only does he crow, he just sort of mumbles a lot. He and the three blonde bitches (the Buff Orpingtons) are troublemakers and are always in the neighbor’s yard.

We expect eggs next month. I’m looking forward to recovering some of our investment. Now that there are 12, they go through a bale of pine shavings and a bag of feed (we use the organic stuff, so it’s more $) each week, plus about 3 pints of blueberries and 4 ears of corn. I think they ate all the bugs in the yard which is why they are going next door.

The garden is great (except for the green beans). Here’s what’s growing:

Potatoes: 3 varieties. We harvested the Yukon Gold and ate most of them with my Dad that very same day. Deelish!

Pumpkins

Golden Nugget Squash

Delicata Squash

Zucchini

Tons of herbs

Asparagus (first year, but hey, it’s alive!)

Tomatoes – 4 varieties

Cucumbers – will not quit

Watermelon – there are 2 and they are teensy. We hope to harvest before frost

Carrots – Yeah, I kind of went to town here. I planted a row each week of 6 varieties for 4 weeks. We have over 300 I would imagine

Parsnips

Beets

Kale (for the chickens, you KNOW we HATE Kale)

Red Onion

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What’s GONE

We harvested 45 bulbs of garlic 3 weeks ago

The lettuce, arugula and spinach are done. I will be planting more next weekend for the Fall

Green Beans

 

Happy Labor Day.

 


I know I promised several posts, but this just happened…

 

Me: Babe, you look tired. Why don’t you go to bed and I’ll put the chickens away tonight.

Him (Already up and out of his chair): OK! Good night. (Kissing me good night). 

Here I sit. For the next and 1/2. By myself. Waiting to put chickens away. 

Me and my big mouth. 

 

 



GO HERE FOR PART 1


Chicks at 11 days old.


Where the F is Moldova? According to Wikipedia, Moldovaofficially the Republic of Moldova (Moldovan/Romanian: Republica Moldova pronounced [reˈpublika molˈdova]) is a landlocked state in Eastern Europe located between Romania to the west and Ukraine to the north, east, and south. It declared itself an independent state with the same boundaries as the Moldavian Soviet Socialist Republic in 1991 as part of the dissolution of the Soviet Union

Why is this important to you and me? I will tell you why. Because 2, not 1, but 2 people from Moldova found http://www.daisypatchfarm.com this week. Ok, that completely FASCINATES me. I have never heard of the country (sorry, but I STUNK at Geography. It involved memorization and I am bad at that. Keith has this game from his childhood called Match II where little country flags on tiles are flipped over so you can’t see the flags. Flip one, then another. Do they match? No. Flip them back. Flip the next one, OH, it matched one you flipped earlier, where was that? Here? Yes. Whomever flips the most tiles, wins. I almost NEVER match any. I no longer play it with him. I stink at it that badly. I just asked him, he hadn’t heard of Moldova either.)

This is very cool to me. Moldova. Thanks to Wikipedia, I discovered that Moldova has rich agricultural regions due to warm Summers and mild Winters. Perhaps a Moldovian homesteader has discovered the bliss that is DaisyPatch farm and is coming here to perform agricultural research? Is it possible that I have mentioned something in a previous post that has offended the Moldovian government and I am under watch (which would be more concerning if they were still part of the Soviet government, although I know it is no longer communist.) Perhaps a Moldovian homesteader planning on raising chickens has decided to do some research and my SEO (search engine optimization) is so phenomenal, they found themselves here.

It’s probably an accident and they were searching “ratty underwear on the web and ended up on my blog. Because that is my most popular post. (Except the one where someone stole a photo off my blog, posted it on another site, claimed it as theirs and everyone pounced on the thief and called him out. THAT was my most popular post.)

So, let me roll out the red carpet and welcome the great citizens of Moldova to the DaisyPatch. Please enjoy your visit. Thank you, come again.


Forgive me Father, it has been longer than I can remember since I updated the DaisyPatch Farm. It is mostly because I am tired, with a little bit of lazy thrown in. Now isn’t the best time to be blogging about gardens, but I will do soooo, now. No, now. Ok, now.

Here’s the latest. Chick-a-dee-dees arrive sometime next week. We have finally decided on what we are going to use for their brooder box and where we’re going to locate it. The brooder box, for those of you who do not know, is going to be their halfway house between hatching and living in the coop. They won’t have a mama chicken to sit on top of them and keep them warm in a coop and so we have to set something up to keep them warm, safe and draft-free. Mama chickens brood over their chicks, hence…Brooder Box. We need to sort of imitate the warm conditions of mama’s underside, (and there is no way in hell I am going to sit on 7 chicks until they’re big enough to go outside, so we have to come up with another option. I guess I could stuff them in my bra, maybe that center part between the ta-tas, but I think I could only fit one at a time and so the others would be chilly in the meanwhile, so that is out of the question.) We are going to use  a large plastic storage container. When they get a bit bigger, we have the cardboard box the compost tumbler came in, so that would be a good size to graduate them to (to which to graduate them. No one uses, “wherefore” and “to which” and “for whom” anymore, so it seems a bit odd to actually use correct grammar, however, I was an English major for a semester, so, “for whom” stays.)

Anyhoo, brooder box. Done. Starter food. Purchased. Wood shavings (essentially, chicken litter). Done. Special chick water dish so they don’t drown. Done. Special feeder to discourage pooping in their food. Done. Heat lamp. Yup. Let me explain the heat lamp. Mama chickens keep the chicks warm in their early days of life. We are RIPPING these little chicks away from their mamas, as they will be arriving as one-day-old chicks, so we need to be sure these little babies stay nice and toasty and, you know, alive. So, we have a red heat lamp that we will chain up from the ceiling to hang over the brooder box. Chickies need to be in a 95 degree area for their first week of life, then the temperature can be dropped by 5 degrees each week until their brooder box temperature matches the outside temperature at which time, they can be safely moved outside to their coop. During nice days, we can bring them outside to get acquainted with the coop and peck on the ground a bit, but they’ll need to be supervised to keep Mr. Cooper (hawk) away as well as any other lurking predators (like Big Red, the fox, whom we’ve seen (hey, a chance to use, “whom.” Sweet.) hanging out in the field across the street.) So, this is the reason mid-April is the perfect time for the little cluckers to arrive because by the time they’re ready to move outside, the temperature will be, not too cold, not too warm, but goldilocks juuuust right.

So that doesn’t seem so bad, right? Put ’em in a box and keep ’em warm until they move outside. Here’s the kicker. We have cats. Three of them. Within a few weeks, the little chicks will be able to hop. Up. To the top of the box maybe. I also can’t see that there’s any chance in hell Peber will NOT try to check these little guys out. So, what’s a just-starting-out-with-chickens-homesteader to do about this? Improvise. Keith plans to bend some chicken wire to sort of lay over the bin to keep the little peckers in and Peber out. You know what I foresee? I foresee  Peber laying on top of that chicken wire and just watching the chicks. Just watching. Mark my words. I’ll take pictures if it happens.

We also want to introduce Daisy to them early on. They’ll be in the basement (I understand they kick up a lot of dust and I’d really like to keep that contained to the non-living section of our living quarters.) and Daisy doesn’t go into the basement (she will not step foot on the basement stairs for some reason) so we’ll have to bring them up to see her. I’ll be fascinated to see her response. We’ll try to get it on film. I do NOT want any bets about whether she’ll kill it. That just doesn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy. I have visions of Daisy the bulldog walking across the lawn, herding her little flock of fluffy chickens, poking one with her nose when it gets too far behind and acting like a proud mama when they do something chickeny. I am sure the reality will be that I end up screaming in panic while trying to give her the heimlich so she’ll choke up Henrietta after trying to swallow her without chewing. Wish us luck.

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