Progress

The sun is up, drying up the puddles on the tops of the chicken tractors. I know the longer I wait to go outside, the hotter it will become. Bill has gone to the post office to pick up chicks. So I'm stealing a few moments, still in my pajamas, sipping a cup of green tea and wishing for just a little longer morning.

It's a very satisfying feeling to walk past a small canvas with wet paint on it from the day before. Evidence that I really did pick up the brush for a little while. Second week in a row, by the way. I'm feeling pretty proud of myself.

All day long yesterday Bill worked on framing in the windows in the shed. They are going to be HUGE. I'm feeling a nervous tickle in my stomach about them now. Too late to change things, but what if there is just too much window and not enough wall space? What if I'm making a green house instead of a studio? I know my husband well enough by now that I better not say to much about my worries. He's on a roll and I'll only frustrate him and the work will stop. He so wants to please me and sometimes I change my mind too much. I just have to remember that he's the construction expert here. If he says it will work, we'll go with that.

So while he's outside with hammer and nails, I'm inside with the music cranked up.
Here's the painting I did last week:

 I'm thinking about using it in my next collage piece. I didn't get a picture of yesterday's beginning, but The pallet is still full of paint and I'm planning on getting back to the easel when all the day's work is over. It's going to be a busy day.

Watermelon Season

Who knew sheep liked watermelon so much? Since we do live in watermelon country, we brought home a few just as the season started. I had them in the shade under a tree. The same tree that the sheep love to lounge under in the heat of the day. Well, you know what happened. They walked around with pink noses the rest of the day!

Choices

Last week at the market, standing there freezing, smiling, selling to the wonderful customers that are so faithful even on rainy, unusually cold April days, I had an unexpected moment. A new customer came to the table and purchased eggs. They walked away, then came back. I love the time I get to spend chatting with everyone at the market, so I always welcome people who just want to stand and visit for a while. Part of the fun of the market is just getting to know people. I get all kinds of questions about our products, why they are labeled "Not for human consumption" or how we treat our birds, or what they eat. Then I get the great stories of little chickens that the kids hatched in school that turned out to be roosters they had to find homes for, or the chickens that climb up in your lap and like to eat out of your hand, or the tragedy of losing a favorite hen to the neighbor's dog. But this conversation went in a different direction.

I had previously introduced them to the fact that we do not wash our eggs, nor do we refrigerate them. I explained that egg shells are porous and naturally come with a coating that protects them and keeps them fresh. After all, the purpose of the egg is to grow a chick inside. Another customer came up to the table ready to buy eggs as well. I thought all was well and they were happy with my explanation, but they leaned in close, pointed at the eggs I had on display and said," Your eggs have poop on them. You need to wash them with bleach."

Usually I have a great idea of what to say, but for some reason this time I was embarrassed. Suddenly my products were "dirty". I had another customer waiting patiently, so I quickly replied, "Yes, you can take them home and do that." then turned to the next person in line and asked what I could get for them. I wanted to pull away, cover my embarrassment, and move on. Actually, for one split second,  I wanted to hide all my dirty eggs, take them home and scrub them down in bleach. Then clarity came. Why is it we can always think of the right thing to say after the person is gone? The rest of the afternoon I muttered intelligent replies and creative comebacks. What it all boiled down to, I finally decided, (and it took me until today to vocalize it) was that our eggs, all our products in fact, give people choices.

Yes, you can buy a room full of eggs that have been washed pretty with bleach, but where can you find the egg that has not been bleached, or sprayed with a chemical, or been sitting in a warehouse for weeks? Well, at the Laughing Chicken farm stand, of course. What we do every day at this small plot of ground in Gilchist county gives people choices. What they do with those choices is not up to me. I can only put it out there. But thank God I am still allowed to put it out there.

So I guess I need a slightly thicker skin, and I need to stop trying to please everyone. My choice is tho offer what I believe in. Maybe next time I'll stand a little taller and smile a little wider doing it.
-Robin

 

Valentine Chocolates

Rainy, drippy day. Thank You so much, Lord. The wetness seeps into the grass and the new shoots look like little green elbows pushing through the dirt. Bent and straining against the tight crust until they grow one more millimeter enough to straighten. The sheep are ready for them. Hungry, nibbling lips swinging through the short new stems. I watch them eat and almost want to join them just to taste a hint of spring.

It's eight o'clock in the morning. Late enough to see the sun and hear the hungry calls outside. Bill is off to get a new batch of chicks at the post office. I need to start making bottles for all the new babies. Calf, sheep and now two goats.

My sweet, wonderful husband shows his love toward me every time he agrees to another animal baby. Even goats. Especially goats. One of his mantras: "I hate goats." But here we are with a cardboard box in the office containing two chocolate bucklings nestled in cloth and old towels muttering softly awaiting a warm suckle of colostrum. That's love.

Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years! Oh my!

What a busy season! I am always so humbled by the people who seek us out and purchase from us during the holidays. Each year we try to do better, and each year we learn what not to do next year.

We did get to take some time for our family. Our annual family picture on Santa's lap was on Christmas day. Our sweet friends Bill and Kathy Bare are professional Santa and Mrs. Clause. In between appearances around the state, they create a winter wonderland on their property in High Springs from Thanksgiving through Christmas. Lights, reindeer games, and hot coco, plus a visit with the big guy. We make it a tradition every year and this year we were blessed to have my mom and dad with us from Clearwater, and our daughter Cat and her husband Brandon from Alabama. Micah and his girlfriend, Stephanie, rounded out the group. Alas, Ben and Danielle are in Japan this year and not here with us. Thank God for Skype.

There have been two new additions to the farm to start the year out. A new ram lamb and a new calf. Bill has named them Harry and Mr. Meaty. I'm sure you can guess which one is Harry. 

The calf is Holstein/Angus, the lamb is a ram and will bring (hopefully) some soft fleeces into our flock of sheep for the fun of spinning. (like I don't have enough to do). Both are bottle babies. Thankfully, we have friends who have milk goats and milk cows and like our chicken!

I'm looking forward to this coming year. It always feels like a fresh start in January. You look at what you have learned and marvel at the possibilities before you. God always has surprises around the corner.

Never a dull moment

Who says living in the country is quiet and peaceful? I guess if you like just empty space around your domain it would be tranquil, but throw a few animals on that space and see what happens!

This week Bill and I took the plunge and added four more sheep to our little flock of four. Our good friends Janice and Lewis Cox run a successful (and beautiful) flock of sheep in Lake City. We've learned so much from them, and successfully bottle fed two of their orphaned lambs. This past June we added our first ram to be papa to the flock. All we needed were more girls to really get production rolling.

Janice invited me to come see what she had available from this year's lambing. How do you pick? I wanted them all of course. I picked out four and then took Bill with me on another day to pick them up. Janice was so patient with me. She walked all the sheep into the corral, separated out the lambs from the flock and got them sorted. I looked over all the lambs a second time. Of course I changed my mind, picked out different ones and we loaded them into the dog crates on the back of the truck. Thank God they fit! We got them home, let them out into an electric netting circle connected to the turkeys and I got a phone call. Janice said that in the mixing of the flock again, I had gotten one that was already spoken for. Drat! She said she would come exchange her, no problem.

Well, on her farm, with gates and corrals, and shoots, it was no problem. But on my farm, only flimsy electric netting held them in. These weren't bottle fed babies like I was used to either. They didn't want to have humans touching them, no way, not one bit.

When Janice came, getting the lamb off the truck was easy smeasy. Getting one lamb out of five scared lambs flocking and running around was a different story. We tried catching, cornering, diving for a leg, and then shooing them into the cage we had taken off the back of the truck. Not good. They pushed through the netting, and headed toward the other end of the pasture! The other sheep started calling to them. The ram was especially enthusiastic--he knew they were girls. Thankfully there was a fence and a gate between them.

After locking up the older sheep in their small pen, we herded the crazies into that side of the pasture and then, after many attempts, got them to go into the old garden area that had a fence around it. It took us an hour and a half.

 I learned something. Sheep aren't easy to pick up and move like chickens. Bill and I could barely manage getting them into the truck and driving them over to where they were supposed to be. Of course we locked up Mistake Sheep safe and sound for Janice to take back home. I think our friendship survived. We made a memory for sure. The first thing Bill said when we were huffing and puffing was,"We need to build more fencing."   

The top picture is the four new ones with the one we raised here on our farm. (Ours has the collar.) See all the grass the chickens and turkeys have made for them?

Goodbye

Today is one of the saddest days we've had on our farm. Today we lost our very first lamb baby. The one we arrived home on Mother's Day to find in the field. The one we waited for with much excitement. Our very first lamb from our very first bottle baby that we raised last year. And the worst part about it is that it was our fault.

Yes, I saw the cherry tree branch wilting, and yes I knew that they are poisonous, but somehow my brain didn't put the two together when I was out in the field yesterday. I saw where the chickens had pecked the bark all the way around a young cherry tree. They wringed a few plumb trees too before we moved them to a new area. Now the trees are in the process of dying and dropping leaves. Wilting cherry leaves produce arsenic, but healthy leaves are safe for the sheep to eat.

The baby lambs have just begun to nibble on green things as they walk through the field with their moms. Apparently, our older lamb nibbled on a wilted leaf yesterday morning. By the afternoon she was down with a stomach ache and bloated. I didn't know what was wrong. My friend Margie came with her years of experience and knowledge and helped me give the lamb some baking soda and mineral oil hoping that we could get her to pass any blockage. Early this morning I checked on her and she was worse. Bloated bigger and clearly in pain. I held her and gave her more baking soda and oil, but it didn't help. She was gone in less than an hour.

Bill and I both cried and cried. Losing birds is sad, losing lambs is torture. I asked him if he wanted to continue raising sheep. The way I feel today makes me wonder if I can go forward. But Bill wants to keep working on it. We've moved the sheep to the other side of the fence where no cherry trees are. That's the only thing I can think of that it could have been. Thank God the other three are okay.