Sunday, January 25, 2015

Winter Storm--NOT!


Winter storm Juno turned out to be a big nothing. We were not disappointed. Terry in particular enjoyed his visit from the Goddess of Unexpected Free Time—the wicked north wind blew the little bit of snow we got clean off the driveway. No shoveling for him today!

The snow this morning didn't even cover the grass. The white parts are from before.
We had watched the storm anxiously as Hilda and I were scheduled to go to Crystal Lake this morning for the Land Conservancy’s brunch/fundraiser/annual meeting. In addition, Doug Elliott was going to tell us stories of groundhogs. Given that we had barely a dusting of snow, we were surprised that there was some drifted snow over the road as we went south, where more snow had obviously fallen. We made it to the event in good time nevertheless.

The brunch was a buffet. I had every intention of not eating too much, which is no different than every other buffet I’ve ever been to in my life. I was pretty okay until I got to the Eggs Benedict. I can’t pass up Eggs Benedict. And just one sausage, one piece of bacon, one chicken wing….. I ate too much, like every other buffet I’ve ever been to in my life.

When Hilda first told me about the event, I didn’t connect the groundhog topic to anything in particular. Once Elliott started talking, it was obvious that the topic was timely—Groundhog’s Day, duh. The alternate name “woodchuck” is a corruption of the Algonquin name for the animal. Nothing at all to do with chucking wood. “Raccoon” is also derived from Algonquin, and the Algonquin name literally translates to “one who wanders by the shore.”

So what about Groundhog’s Day? February 2 is halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It was a sacred day for Pagans. Elliott explained the origin of the word “pagan” as “country folk” from ancient Roman times, as great cities developed around “monotheistic desert religions” the worshiped one God in the sky, and those still on the farm continued with their earth-based religions that centered on the seasons.

Elliott also explained that counterintuitive thing about the groundhog’s shadow. Early people were keen observers of nature. Bears and groundhogs had particular significance for them as intermediaries between Grandfather Sky and Grandmother Earth. Both of them disappeared into the earth in the fall and were presumed dead, but were reborn in the spring. The shadow is our darker self, which is only separated from us by death, the final and most peaceful sleep. If the groundhog comes out of hibernation and sees his shadow, it means that he has not completed his death cycle, and he is not yet ready to be reborn. So he goes back to sleep. Or something.

For people, February 2 was when you looked at what you had left, and hoped it was at least half of what you put by for the winter. We’re going to make it. I’d say we’re about halfway through the potatoes, although they’re starting to sprout, which means we will be in the Month of the Wrinkled Potatoes before long. We really, really overshot on the onions. I bet we haven’t eaten even a quarter of those. I had to clean out a rotten one and a sprouted one recently. I’ve seen more taking on that characteristic gotta-sprout-soon elongated form. Garlic? No shortage, and likely to start sprouting soon also.

And the freezers! I’ve been working on reducing the inventory. We’ve had so many suppers of Tundra Surprise lately that I can’t remember the last time I started a meal with raw meat. Stuffed peppers from September, baked tomato pasta sauce from August, stuffed cabbage from July, pot roast in wine sauce from October, chicken in stock from December, roast pork in gravy from the late Cretaceous, all served with a side of Brussels sprouts, corn, green beans, beets, cabbage, sauerkraut, or squash.

Sometimes it feels like work trying to get through all this food. And yet, it is a good problem to have. I try to remember to admire my plate when I sit down to eat and say to myself, “I grew these potatoes; I fed this chicken; I cleaned and blanched and froze these Brussels sprouts.” It makes me quietly proud.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

January Thaw


I have mentioned many times that one of the things I most enjoy about chickens is their ability to greet every moment as the best thing that has ever happened. I made a little video of the greeting we receive when we have snow on our boots. Snow! That is the best thing ever! It’s cute in the video also because you can see little Gracie (the black and white one with the wild head feathers) at the periphery having a sense that something exciting is happening, but not really being able to figure out what it is.

We’ve had a lovely warm weekend here with temperatures above 40° during the day and above freezing at night. The amount of snow on the ground is greatly reduced. Hilda and I took the opportunity to replace all the wood chips in the coop. I’m not sure the girls appreciated it, but we sure did.

The girls and the fresh wood chips
Gracie (Silver Crested) and Fiona (Welsummer)
 
We’ve had some trouble with one or more of the girls pecking at the eggs. Most of the time, the shell is broken but the membrane is intact. On a couple of occasions, however, an egg has been eaten. This is distressing because most things I’ve read suggest that once a chicken gets the idea that eggs are good to eat, egg eating can spread to the flock, and you can kiss your over-easy breakfasts goodbye. The best solution seemed to be using nest boxes that allowed the eggs to roll out into a collection tray that was inaccessible to the hens. Such a design had the added benefit of cleaner eggs because the hens didn’t have a chance to walk over the eggs with their muddy/poopy feet.

Hilda looked in the catalogs for roll-away nest boxes that were expensive and would involve major reconfiguration in the coop. I did some research in the DIY world and found plans for an easy-to-install ramp. The design seemed obvious to me, but it was less obvious to Hilda and Terry. In the end, however, both of them got it. A particular sticking point for Terry was the idea that the ramp needed to extend more than 4” past the nest boxes. I explained that the eggs had to roll beyond the reach of the chickens. Once he went into the coop to start measuring, he finally understood the point. The hens gave him their typical welcome of pecks everywhere. Terry was amazed at the range of motion of their head and neck. “I can see why you wanted more room on the outside,” he told me.  

During the week, Terry cut wedges to prop the ramp up and put two slits in a piece of plywood to make room for the walls between the nest boxes. With the weather so nice yesterday, Terry set about putting the ramp in. He began by gluing indoor-outdoor carpet onto the plywood. I wasn’t sure how well it would hold up in the coop. This batch of chickens seems to peck everything apart. There was also the open question of their use of the newly configured nest boxes.

First eggs in the roll-out tray
When I got home from shopping yesterday, Terry was eager for me to see his handiwork. He’d only finished the installation 45 minutes earlier. We walked out to the coop, and there were already 3 eggs in the egg collection area.

And this morning, there was still carpet in the nest boxes. I didn’t see any sign of pecking at all.

Inside the nest box on the second day
The only thing we’re still working on is the length of the rubber curtain. It’s a little stiff and does not always allow the eggs to roll through. We are shortening the fringe little by little until we get to the point where the eggs will always escape the nest box.

Sunday, January 4, 2015

Winter is upon us



Winter is upon us. Yesterday was warm but dreary, with rain and snow alternating all day long. In the afternoon, I looked out at the fifth oak and saw a bird that was a little larger than a dove. With binoculars, I could make out an orange tail and orange shoulders. It seemed quite miserable with its tail feathers spread out as if trying to dry them. I thought I saw a vertical black strip on its head when it turned. I looked through Sibley and was able to identify it as an adult male American kestrel. Cool! I haven’t seen one of those in several years. He was a shy little guy. I wasn’t able to get very close with my camera, and this is the best picture I could get before he flew off.
Kestrel drying its tail. You can kind of see the orange shoulders and the black tipped orange feathers of the tail.

Today has been just like winter. The temperature was 29° when I got up at 6:15. It has dropped steadily ever since with a wicked northwest wind blowing snow. Hilda opened the coop door this morning, and no one wanted to go out. There weren’t even any hens by the door. She closed the coop again.

I will be easing back into work this week. Classes don’t start for two more weeks, but I have meetings already on Tuesday. I figured I might as well get back in the routine. I made five servings of carrot and celery sticks and peeled five grapefruits for my lunches. Even though it looked cold and nasty out, I have been trying to walk outside more often in my increasingly elusive quest for a good night’s sleep. As long as I had to bundle up to take the kitchen scraps to the mulch bin and the carrot peelings to the girls, I decided to walk at least a little.

I put the carrot peelings on the ground and opened the coop door again. A couple of girls stuck their heads out, but no one ventured forth. I left the door open while I went for my walk. I had overdressed and was sweating by the time I got to the southwest corner. It really wasn’t such a bad day to be outside. There was more snow on the ground than I realized. The creek was so pretty that I went back to the house for my camera and walked to the creek again to take a picture.

The creek, frozen over, in the snow

All of the carrot peels were still on the ground when I went to the coop again. I shut the door and let the girls be. They really don’t like the wind. I checked for eggs and found three. All of the next boxes were occupied, maybe because they were the warmest places in the coop.
Carrot scraps untouched outside the coop door


Left to right: Nadia, Cleopatra, and Lizette in the nest boxes
Our cat Della is 20 years old now. She’s holding up fairly well. She sleeps a lot. We have a futon that is pretty much all hers. When she wants us to pet her head, she stands at the end and cries. The video does not capture her best singing. She likes to sleep under a blanket in what we call the “cat cave.” Some years ago when she started getting feeble, Terry made a handicapped ramp for her. He then patiently trained her to use it by dragging a string up and down the ramp while she chased it. Eventually, she learned to use it on her own. Lately, she has taken to walking down the ramp with her front legs while sliding on her back legs. It’s pretty hilarious.
 

Thursday, January 1, 2015

Happy New Year!

One more thing that tells me I’m getting old: staying up until midnight on New Year’s Eve just seems stupid. Admittedly, my threshold has been moving up over the years. When I was young, it had to be midnight local time. When we moved from Buffalo to Illinois, we continued to celebrate the New Year on New York time. This year, London’s New Year was just fine with me.
I made the traditional caramel pecan rolls for breakfast today. Terry and I went upstairs to enjoy them with Mom and Dad.
The first breakfast of the New Year ought to be a good one!

While I was having my second cup of coffee, I saw a huge bird fly over the field. What was it? Great blue herons are all in Florida this time of year. As it banked, I saw a white tail. Could it be? I rushed from the breakfast table to grab the binoculars. Yup, black wings, white head and tail, bald eagle! Everyone got up to see it. It was hard to find in the binoculars, but as it turned the flashes of white before and aft were visible to the naked eye. I took this as a sign that wonderful things will come our way in 2015.