That’s twenty-two ducklings in the bathtub. Go ahead, count them. This is their first swim. Ducklings are hard-wired with swimming skills. They don’t need to be taught. As soon as their fluffy bodies land in the water, their webbed feet start paddling. They swim back and forth, peeping with delight. They’re the ultimate
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Michele over at Garden Rant blogs about the Food Safety Modernization Act of 2009, HR 875, in a post titled “Memo To My Children: Register Your Vegetable Stand or Face a Million-Dollar Fine. There’s no hobby or small farm exception in this legislation, which could have all sorts of disturbing consequences. This month Mother Jones
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Tucked into the edge of the woods on our farm is the neglected, overgrown remains of an old farmhouse. There’s not a lot left of it, some foundation stones, rusting roof tin, bricks strewn here and there — and some hardy survivors in what probably were well-tended flower beds in the yard. I suspect this
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They’re hunting rabbits. Actually, it’s just Dinah, the farmcollie, hunting rabbits. Tiny Lamb’s following close because that’s just what she does. She follows Dinah everywhere unless one of the other dogs distracts her and takes over lamb-sitting duty. Dinah’s our best small pest hunter. She particular excels at hunting down moles, mice, voles, and rabbits
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Here’s what a spoiled rotten house lamb wears for playtime in the barnyard on a cold morning. Tiny likes the red flannel ‘coat’ with its black trim and faux fleece lining. It has velcro closures at the chest and belly, and the two sleeves fit her front legs perfectly. Tiny likes the chickens’ cracked corn, too.
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The roses began to leaf out on the north side of the house, and the wild ones in the woods did the same. Daylilies and irises sent forth new shoots. The chickens rejoiced . . . and ate the shoots. The air felt warm. It felt like spring. And then came the snow, as predicted,
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