Now and then, I’m reminded of how much I have to be grateful for in this life I’m living here at the farm. The days remain hot, but the nights have grown cool enough that we must turn on a heat lamp to keep the new chicks warm. They’re Production Reds, purchased as replacement layers.
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Someone asked me recently how many chickens I have. I could only guess. In winter, I take a nightly headcount of all the birds during evening chores. Now? A headcount is practically impossible with so many free-ranging chickens, ducks, turkeys, and guineas loose. During the day they’re all out and about doing bird things. At
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Sometimes the chickens roost on the tall stacks of rabbit cages in the barn. The top of that cage is about six feet off the ground, so it’s not surprising that I didn’t notice that one of the banty hens wasn’t just roosting at night. She’d made herself a nest on top of the empty
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Everywhere I turn, there’s a nesting bird. One of my favorite ducks chose a corner of the duck pen. She gathered hay from the sheep pen next door, added some downy soft feathers, and piled it all high near the spot where the other ducks lay their daily eggs. I suppose she appreciates having company
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When the snow covers the ground in a deep blanket of white, my world narrows. The occasional traffic on our narrow gravel road dwindles to none. An entire day passes without a single set of wheel tracks disturbing the snow. I could be snowbound here, trapped by the snow and the icy layer of frozen
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It’s been a while since I posted. Life’s been particularly busy this spring . . . and I’ve not been up to the challenge of keeping up with any but the most critical tasks. Now summer has crept upon me before I’m ready. That’s how life is sometimes. Here’s a quick update – just the
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Even the chickens huddle up close to the fireplace when the temperature drops and the snow flies. Really, there’s a fireplace in this picture with the chickens — the back of one, at least. The wide base of the chimney is the barely visible section of concrete wall jutting out behind the pile of straw
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Winifred Goose & her best buddy rooster, out for an afternoon stroll through the woods. The rooster is one of a half-dozen look-alikes that hatched out year before last. He was destined for the soup pot until Winifred picked him as her best friend forever. She followed him around, honking, nagging, persisting . . .
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The view from the hayloft at feeding time. This photo was taken a few weeks ago, while the snow fell outside and the wind whistled around the eaves. I’d just given the cattle half a bale of prairie hay and was spreading a thick bed of fresh straw. Notice the chickens scratching through the straw
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Nope, he’s not choking it! This chick was rowdy before it came out of the shell, and there are only two ways to keep it still. If I set it on my shoulder, it’ll burrow into the long hair at my neck and sing soft happy chirps — for about 20 seconds, and then it
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