First Snow

~ Crystal Sands ~ 1 Comment

Today was the first big snow for our turkeys and new chickens. The new chickens are still babies in spirit, even though some of them are about the same size as our smaller hens. They have grown up quickly, but they are a long way, every single one of them, from having a place in the flock that is anything other than the bottom.

I think a lot of people do not understand how important the social order is to chickens. They are so much like humans in this way. Because the young chickens are so far at the bottom of the pecking order, if they stay in the coop with the grumpy old hens, they will be bossed around and randomly pecked on the head from time to time all day long.

So, even in the cold and snow, they head outside.

I made sure I shoveled a good area near the covered dust bath, and as soon as I opened the door this morning for the flock to come outside, the little chickens made a beeline–at least most of them. A few of them were not happy with the snow on the ground, even though I had shoveled–and then swept with a broom–to do my best to get the snow clear.

(As an aside, as I type the words that I shoveled and then swept the ground with a broom to try to give my chickens dry earth, I realize that, tired as I am, I am willing to go a long way to give those chickens a good day).

One of the little Cuckoo Maran hens started her bee line and then suddenly froze. She realized she was in the snow, and then became paralyzed. She didn’t want to go forward or backwards. I watched her and realized I would have to carry her to her people, so I did. She normally makes a scene because she doesn’t like to be held. She got tired of it because I held her quite a bit as a baby. I have found over the years that the best way to have a hen let me hold her when she’s grown is to hold her a lot as a baby. Unfortunately for me, some of them still hate being held, no matter how hard I try. It’s a personality thing, but, of course, I try until they make it clear to me that they don’t want it. Then, I try to respect their wishes.

Ruby, for example, makes a full-on scene, scream and hollers and acts like I am killing her, when I have had to help her out of situations and hold her. The only exception was that time I found her stuck under the ramp of the coop. I still have no idea how she managed that, but she did let me help her out of that jam without making a scene that morning. Clara, on the other hand, always lets me hold her. She is a Lavender Orpington, and they are very sweet, chill birds. I can pick Clara up pretty much any time, and she goes right along with it. Interestingly, Clara is one of the few older hens who will hang out with the little ones. I wonder what that says about her.

Anyway, I took the little Cuckoo Maran (her name is Genevieve) to her fellow little people, and she was satisfied.

It is supposed to get down to -2 degrees Fahrenheit in the next few days, which is a bit of a rough temperature for early December around here. We are going to have to put loads of straw in the coop starting tomorrow.

The turkeys were very interesting with the snow. At first, they had a lot of hesitation. Well, I don’t think “hesitation” does justice to what they were. Turkeys feel everything so deeply, so they were really quite sad and seemed to be upset at us that this had happened. They moped quite a bit. I mean, you could literally see them moping about, so mistreated by us who allowed the snow to fall on the earth that they own because, rest assured, they own everything around here.

They eventually adjusted, however. We shoveled a path for them, but soon they were just out and about making their own paths. I think we got about 4 inches of snow, so the turkeys were able to walk through it–and they did. They were certainly more subdued today than usual, but mostly, they just went around as usual, barking at the FedEx delivery driver in fine form.

I got a little video of them this morning as I was wrapping up my part of the morning chores. I hope it makes you smile. I hate my voice, but this video made my heart so happy that I have to share it. https://youtube.com/shorts/bgjTrMPzcrE?si=RGyQMNGCmQqaodV9

The Turkey (and Happy Thanksgiving)

~ Crystal Sands ~ 1 Comment

More than ten years ago, I had just gotten chickens and had fallen madly in love with them. My son, just five years old at the time, was taking his first ever theater class for little kids. Everyone was guaranteed a part, and my son was a puppy in a production of Disney’s 101 Dalmatians.

One day, when we arrived at practice, I saw a Subaru in the parking lot with a personalized license plate–CHKNLADY. I have to meet that woman, I thought to myself. That evening, while sitting in the parent waiting room, I overheard a woman talking about her chickens and turkeys, so I had to ask if she was CHKNLADY. She was!

She was wonderful, and we had a lovely conversation about chickens that evening. She warned me though.

“Don’t ever get turkeys,” she said.

I asked her why, and she explained, “Let me put it this way. We got eight turkeys to raise for food. We planned to keep four for ourselves and then share the others with friends and family for the Thanksgiving holiday. We had no turkey at Thanksgiving, and instead, we have now eight turkeys that play soccer with my kids.”

Ten years later, I remembered that story but thought I was a hardened homesteader that had lost some of my sentimentality about raising animals for food. After all, I helped process many meat chickens and had come to accept it as a better way to eat meat. I thought we could be different than the CHKNLADY.

Our plan was to keep a small flock of one tom, four or five hens, and then raise turkeys for food, processing the toms as needed to feed our family and our Great Pyrenees. I have been paying about $125 every Thanksgiving for an organic, humanely-raised turkey. I thought we could surely do this ourselves.

What I have come to learn about turkeys has changed my life. Just as chickens changed my life when I got them more than ten years ago, the turkeys have had a profound impact on me. Not all of it is good because they can be exhausting. In comparison with chickens, they are difficult birds, but oh my gosh, they are magnificent! They hook you in, and you will do their bidding. Ron is their servant, and I am their assistant servant.

Since today is Thanksgiving, and our turkey named Thanksgiving is running around the yard, I thought I would write about what I have learned from these amazing creatures. I hope it doesn’t ruin your Thanksgiving. I am not against eating turkey. In fact, our hope is to hatch a few birds next year and work hard to ensure they do not imprint on us and then have a turkey next Thanksgiving.

Still, after getting to know these birds, I am definitely against the cheap birds in the grocery store because I know what kind of life they lived. If you can bear it today, please read what I have learned and make a plan to buy a humanely-raised turkey next year if you can. It will not be cheap, but if you can do it, it will be worth it.

Turkeys are majestic animals. There is a reason that Benjamin Franklin wrote they were “noble” and a “bird of courage” and a “true original native” of America.

And here are some things I have learned about them this year…

1. Turkeys imprint deeply.

It is difficult to care for baby turkeys. When they first hatch, if they do not have a mother, you have to teach them how to eat and drink–over and over. With baby chickens, you show them one time, and they are all set. It took me two to three days of constant feeding to get them where they could eat on their own. During that time, we bonded, and those babies imprinted on me. The bond just grew over the weeks because they demanded a lot of attention.

After about a month, I could no longer handle eight demanding little turkeys by myself, so Ron stepped in. They bonded so deeply with him too. These turkeys are difficult (see more thoughts below), but they love us, think we hung the moon, and are so sweet to us. This deep bond makes other aspects of raising turkeys more challenging, but I am in awe of the biology of it. It is a reminder of the bonds humans share with animals.

One way I know the bond is deep is that I can break up fights between the boys. I can get right down in the middle of these giant birds, little dinosaurs, just throwing down because the toms will seriously fight, and they will not hurt me. You can see they will be so angry at each other, but mama is sacred. No one hurts mama. This is the same for Ron. They love us so much.

*As an aside, we had three males and now have two. We had one male who was starting the trouble most frequently, and it was a devastating decision to make, but he left us no choice. Ron processed him last week, and the fighting has stopped. I will have to tell that story later. Maybe. It’s a hard one.

2. Turkeys are extremely social.

The turkeys do not just love us. They also have a love-hate relationship with each other. I think it’s more love, but they are very much like toddlers right now at just about eight months old. They have to be together though. If one of them gets separated, they will cry and cry until we go help them find their people. And they miss us terribly if we have to be away from the house during the day.

When we get home, they run up to us and click and chirp and the boys strut and show off. I tell the boys, “Oh, you are such a pretty boy,” and they immediately start putting on a show. They have done this since they were just tiny little babies strutting around in miniature.

3. Turkeys are extremely, extremely vocal but also communicate with color.

I’ll start with the vocal. I have never seen such vocal creatures. They talk constantly! And they have so many different ways of speaking. They are quick to let you know they are unhappy via their cries, but they click constantly to keep in contact with each other and have coos for talking sweet and a kind of curious coo when they see something in the sky, sometimes things I cannot see. And, of course, they gobble. The gobble is usually some kind of “out of sorts” expression. The first time they got in trouble from me was for picking on the ducks. I ran outside and grumped at all of them, and they just gobbled and gobbled about it.

But they also bark, like a dog that is a turkey. When someone comes to our house, they bark. If it’s someone they don’t know and that someone comes into our driveway, there will be braking plus gobbling. If the delivery people have to tell me something, I cannot hear a word they are saying. We have to stand in the driveway and yell over the turkeys. I always apologize.

The cutest thing is that they bark at the fence when people walk by, just like our Pyrenees. I do not know if this is usual or if this is behavior our turkeys learned from the dogs, but when someone is out on our country road for a walk, they will now not only be barked out by two Great Pyrenees, but a small flock of turkeys will bark and gobble at them. It’s so cute to see two dogs and then a row of turkeys lined up at the fence griping at our poor neighbors, who seem bemused but it all.

Interestingly, turkeys also communicate with the color of their heads. They change their head colors with their moods, much like octopuses, I suppose. They have three head colors–red, white, and blue–but there are a variety of shades in between that give you insights into what is going on in their little minds–and there is so much going on. The red means upset or excited, and the blues and whites are calmer. When we pet them, they turn blue and white. When they get dried cranberries in the mornings (they LOVE these), their heads are a combination of blue and red.

I am fascinated by all of it.

4. Turkeys are highly emotional creatures.

I had always heard and people continue to tell me that turkeys are mean. I can’t exactly disagree with this, but I also can’t agree with it either.

A few weeks ago, I was talking to our new doctor, who grew up on a farm, about our turkeys. He said he didn’t like turkeys because they are mean. I tilted my head and asked, “Are they though?” It was a question for myself as well because I can’t decide. The doctor looked at me with a look that said, “Yes, they are!”

I thought about that all day and evening, and the next morning, I saw the female turkeys chasing our blind duck, Anna Maria, doing their best to peck her on the head.

“Well, I guess they are mean,” I thought to myself.

I also thought back to the way the boys would sometimes gang up on Boudica and be mean to her. She is so deeply trained to care for the livestock that she just takes their abuse, but it breaks my heart.

However, in both of these cases, the turkeys have reasons for being “mean,” at least according to them. They are the most emotional creatures I have ever seen. They wear it all just right there for the world to see. There is no wall, no filter. If they feel something, they express it with vigor, like way too much vigor.

In Anna Maria’s case, I have seen her accidentally bump into the turkeys, as she is blind, and this offends the turkeys. I think it has taken them a bit to figure out she’s not meaning to confront them. And, in Boudica’s case, I think they get tired of her barking. In fact, Ron has said he’s certain of this.

I still side with Anna Maria and Boudica every time because, in my opinion, the turkeys are unreasonable, but I can see they don’t really mean to be. They are just really deep feelers who live honestly in their emotions.

I remember the first time I saw this in action. The turkeys were pretty young, just a couple months old, and I saw several of them sitting in a line on top of the duck house. I was just sitting out there chatting with them, when one of the boys pecked one of the girls on the head. The one he pecked is maybe the most intelligent of the five girls we have, and her face reveals a lot. I saw a look in her eye after she got pecked on the head, and I knew there was going to be trouble.

She was deeply offended and quite pissed. She tore into that boy like I couldn’t believe. She had his snood stretched out a mile. I went over to break it up and just couldn’t. I finally got the boy out of harm’s way, and that girl started attacking everyone else. She was not letting this go.

So I ended up having to pick her up and carry her around for about ten minutes. I could see she had calmed down, so I sat her down and hoped for the best. I am not kidding. She made a line for that boy and started attacking him again! It took me forever to calm her down, and I began to learn that turkeys are highly emotional creatures. They love big, and they fight big. And they are easily offended.

5. Turkeys are amazingly intelligent.

I think part of the reason turkeys are so easily offended is that they are highly intelligent. I have learned from the chickens and ducks and the most intelligent among them are almost always the most difficult to manage on a farm because they have opinions, and sometimes, those opinions are strong, and sometimes, those opinions differ from mine.

These animals are profoundly intelligent. They learn things quickly. They have amazing spatial awareness and understand either our language or tone of voice very, very well. When they get reprimanded, which is never more than us telling them “no” they can’t do something they want to do, such as eat from the bird feeders or be mean to the ducks, they cry and act sad and try to make up, especially to Ron. They desperately want to be in his good graces.

The best way I can describe these turkeys is that they are very similar to three year olds. They are smart enough to be terrors, are extremely self-centered, but are also so brilliant they are charming and interesting and really just absolutely fascinating creatures.

***

Truly, I feel like that just a fraction of what I could write about these amazing animals, who, somehow, are ugly in a way but, at the same time, breathtakingly beautiful. Maybe it’s their contradictions, so human like, that make me love them so.

One day, I will try to write more. I feel like I could write a 20 page essay on them, but who would want to read that? I hope this Thanksgiving ramble on the turkey was just right length. I hope you found it interesting and learned some things about turkeys.

And I hope you had a happy Thanksgiving.

An Update in Pictures

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

I have been very busy with the animals. Cynthia passed away last week, and both Jeremiah and I were devastated. On Halloween, we went to Petco and purchased Jeremiah a new girl, but he was very upset about it. It took me a week, but Jeremiah and the new girl (named Samhain because that’s when we got her) are now living happily. I will have to share pictures and tell her story soon because Samhain is beautiful and is the same color as Jeremiah, even though she is a fancy mouse. I thought all fancy mice were white. Samhain looks like a cross between a mouse and a teddy bear.

Also, in the fall, male ducks always get too frisky, and our male duck, Spyro, injured Anna Maria pretty badly. It has been an epic few weeks of my working daily to keep Anna Maria safe and separate and healing. I am happy to report that she has healed and is able to sleep with the flock again. As you may remember, Anna Maria hates me on a regular day, but when she’s injured, she’s just on the edge and hates me extra.

Because I have also been sick due to a terrible flare of my autoimmune struggles, I was starting to wonder if I still had it in me to care for Anna Maria. But we did it! I am now back to just having to help her stay with the flock when she loses everyone because she’s blind. Just this morning, I picked her up when she got caught up in the turkeys and carried her to the rest of the ducks.

I held her like a baby over my shoulder and said, “I know you hate me, but I will love you until the day I die.” She can’t have too much longer in this world. She is moving more slowly and getting lost all the time. There must be something I am supposed to learn from my service to her. Maybe it’s just service. I am weary though. Thankfully, she is better again now.

And despite the challenges this fall, it has been a lovely harvest season. The baby chickens are good for my soul, and I love getting to know them. Ron has harvested so much good food from the garden. I made a ton of apple butter, finally mastered the cherry pie thanks to a cheat, and learned how to make homemade English muffins. It is more than a little joyful watching that dough puff up in the skillet.

I took some pictures of the baby chickens today, so I thought I would share an update of them along with a few pictures from around here. Wait until you see one of the male turkeys. Those turkeys are magnificent creatures!

This is my favorite baby. She is a Welsummer like our dear Rooster was. She lets me hold her still. When she was little, she was the only one who would come to me. I have no name for her yet. It has to be the best name. I wish to honor Rooster in some way, but that poor boy did not have a good name. Please help with ideas!
This is Bernice. She is the tiniest of all of the Delaware chickens we have, and she is so sweet. She likes to be wild and free though and will not let me hold her very much.
This is Pingvin. She is named for the Swedish word for penguin because she had a creamy white face when she was a baby and looked like a penguin. I spent the spring learning a little bit of Swedish. The main words that stuck were the words for bread, strawberry, thank you, you’re welcome, and penguin.
And this is Pumpkin, an old girl who came to visit with me while I took baby pictures this morning. She is about 7 years old and is the hen who disappeared for weeks and returned squawking outside our bedroom window one night in the middle of the night. Oh, I wish she could tell me her stories! She is just getting over a molt, so she looks a little worse for wear right now. What a magnificent girl she is!
These are the English muffins I learned how to make. They were inconsistent in thickness but consistent in their yumminess.
And look at this cauliflower harvest last week! I told Ron that October and November must be cauliflower’s favorite months. I have never seen him grow more beautiful cauliflower.
This beautiful boy shows out like this all the time. All three boys do. I learned they will not mate unless the females submit and allow it. So far, the hens seem like they won’t be ready until next spring, so the boys just walk around showing off like 80% of the day. I keep asking them if they get tired of it. I guess they just do not. What a beautiful boy! I have to write more about the turkeys. It’s hard though because they deserve much time and effort. I’ll just share this: Their heads change colors depending upon their mood. They have red, blue, white, and colors in between!
We had a banner harvest this year. We put up more food than ever, and the onions were so gorgeous this year. We keep learning a little more each year about how to put by food. The onions have been a staple for years, but they were so beautiful I had to share a picture of them in our cold room.
And definitely not least, this is the cherry pie I made. I cheated. I used the new Bonne Maman cherry pie filling, and now I can finally make a cherry pie. It’s still not as good as my grandmother’s though. Oh, to have her recipes!

Ruby and the Fall Babies

~ Crystal Sands ~ 2 Comments

I realize I haven’t written much since Rooster passed away. There was such a depression around here. I thought we were going to lose our other rooster, Dvorak. He was so down. He didn’t crow for weeks and just sat around with his head hanging low. I didn’t know if he was sick or if maybe he just had a broken heart like I did. I guess that was accurate because after at time, he started to crow again. He seems to be doing well now.

I am not sure what helped Dvorak’s depression, but mine wasn’t getting better on its own. Ron decided some baby chicks might help, and so we stayed up late one night and looked through the online catalog of a big hatchery. So late in the season, there were not a lot of options, but he wanted dual purpose birds while I wanted heritage. I wasn’t sure if we were really going to order them because we have been trying to downsize for a couple of years, but I guess a couple of years without baby chicks was too much for Ron too because, the next day, he told me he had placed the order.

We got nine Delawares (an old-timey, dual purpose bird), two Cuckoo Marans (a French heritage bird that lays dark brown eggs), two Welsummers (a heritage bird and the same breed as our beloved Rooster), and two blue Ameraucanas (not heritage but beautiful birds with a blue tint to the feathers; they lay blue eggs).

These birds are gorgeous–all of them.

The first couple of weeks we had them, I was working a lot and really sick. I did not get to enjoy them nearly as much as I had hoped, but I started to get better and was able to spend more time with them. I am getting to know them all now, and they are magnificent because of course they are.

But the most interesting thing about getting these babies is Ruby’s reaction to them.

Last year, we did not let Ruby raise babies when she went broody. She was always the most fierce mama and so quick to go broody. She loved being a mama and would spend the whole summer raising babies and then would just go broody again, but downsizing meant no babies for Ruby. This year, Ruby did not go broody. I assume it’s because of her likely ovarian cancer but maybe also because she’s getting older.

Either way, I was thinking just a month or so ago as I looked down at a poop Ruby had left in the garage–a poop that is the calling card of the ovarian cancer–that I have to treasure every day I have left with Ruby. Every day.

I am happy to report that Ruby is treasuring every day too.

When we put the babies in the brood box in the garage, Ruby would visit with them every morning. She watched them through the window and would make noises at them. They, of course, adored her, but Ruby would get busy and go on about her day after a while.

However, when we put the babies into a small fenced area connected to the main chicken yard, Ruby went to work. She would sit the babies for hours. She would show them how to scratch through the fence. The best thing was listening to her make mama noises at them. Ruby is so fantastic. Both Kate and Juliet run around the driveway too. but neither of them seem to care one bit about those babies. Ruby loves them.

Just today Ron was outside making kindling when he popped into the house to tell me a Ruby story.

He said she was scratching at the earth, working hard to get something. She was making all kinds of mama tidbitting noises. The babies were waiting through the fence to see wha she would come up with. Ron said, when she got whatever it was she got, she threw it through the fence with her beak, and one of the babies ate it!

How fantastic is that?

I want to let the babies out to be with her more, but there are too many. Plus, Ruby doesn’t seem interested in full-time care. Still, the fall babies are getting big, and after Halloween, they will go into the big run with everyone else.

I can’t wait to see what Ruby does.

A Mouse Love Story

~ Crystal Sands ~ 5 Comments

In May of 2024, my son rescued a tiny deer mouse with eyes still closed. It was after a big storm had blown through our area, and there, partially in a puddle in our driveway, was a tiny white-footed deer mouse.

My son had just been diagnosed with long COVID, so when he brought the tiny mouse inside in a shoe box, I told him it would be too much work and that he should put the mouse back, near where he found him. “Maybe the mama will come find him somehow,” I said. “But we don’t need another animal.”

My son didn’t say much, but that night, after I went to bed, I heard the blender going. I got up, went downstairs to the kitchen, and there was my son “making a mouse formula” from the recipe he found on the internet. The shoe box was sitting on the kitchen counter, and I hung my head because I knew what we were doing.

I looked in the box, and I could see why my son insisted on rescuing this little baby. It was so tiny and barely moving. I thought it was so likely to die but understood the need to try. We started researching and estimated the mouse to be about 9 days old. I told my son he would have to get up every two to three hours to feed the mouse, and he agreed. I was so worried about this because my son was so sick, but my son did it. The next morning, the mouse, with eyes still closed, was moving around better and liked to be held already.

After that first night, I agreed to take turns on the shifts to allow my son to get some rest. It was during those shifts that I fell deeply in love with this little mouse. We fed him goat milk and homemade formula from a paint brush. When that little baby (my son named him Jeremiah) opened his eyes and looked at me, I was in so much trouble.

But this is not that love story.

We learned from our research that a lone deer mouse will be too lonely. The. best way to give Jeremiah a companion was to go to the pet store and buy a fancy mouse, in particular a female because they would get along better. And because a deer mouse and a fancy mouse are different species, they cannot breed. I checked this about a thousand times and from like a hundred sources. I did not want mouse babies.

My son and I went to the store and bought Cynthia. She was a tiny little thing and so beautiful. But when we brought her home, Jeremiah was terrified. He ran up my arm, shaking, and hid in my sleeve. I drug him out and put him in the cage with Cynthia, only I put a clear plastic divider between them, so they could meet without having to actually touch each other.

The next morning, I found them sleeping side by side against the divider, and I figured I could take out the divider. I did, and Jeremiah and Cynthia fell in love. Jeremiah will usually share his food with her, which is saying something because he’s a foodie and a hoarder, and Cynthia gives Jeremiah baths. They cuddle up all the time and are the best of friends.

I love to study their differences. Cynthia has small eyes, a small head, and is all body. Meant for pet food, I am thankful to know her and thankful we saved her from a different fate. She is the sweetest creature and lets me pet her more than Jeremiah does now. She doesn’t store food like Jeremiah. She lives in the moment.

Jeremiah is all eyes and ears and head. His proportions are so different from hers. He’s sweet but wilder and loves to play and play and play. He also loves to hoard. He eats a little and stores a lot from his dinner every night. I always find a giant stash of nuts when I clean the cage, which makes Jeremiah panic. He hates when I take his stash, but I always give him more to start a new one.

Sadly, Cynthia’s life will be much shorter than Jeremiah’s. While a deer mouse in captivity can live 4 to 5 years, sometimes even more, a fancy mouse lives 12-18 months in most cases. Cynthia is 16 months old. A couple of weeks ago, I thought we were going to lose her.

She has been having health problems off and on all summer, but two weeks ago, I thought we had surely come to the end. Her abdomen was bloated terribly, like really terribly, and she was struggling with her breathing. I could see from the look in her eyes that she was really struggling. I read that the issue was likely tumors in her abdomen and that this happens near the end of a fancy mouse’s life. There is nothing that can be done. I also spent time researching the most humane way to kill a suffering mouse. Interestingly, it is what I thought it would be and what we do for other animals on the farm, but oh my gosh, I couldn’t do it.

On the second day of her being in terrible shape, I told Ron that I wanted to give her one more day, just in case. During her days of suffering, Jeremiah never left her side. Jeremiah was definitely the reason I said to give her one more day. He is usually wild and bouncy and plays in the wheels in their cage, bouncing from one to the other, but he was very serious about Cynthia. I checked on her about ten times a day, and every time I was in there, he was with her looking so very worried. He had his little head on her head and seemed so distraught.

I was so very worried.

I told my son we would likely have to get Jeremiah a new girl soon. My son said his goodbyes to Cynthia the night before the third day. I did as well.

And, the next morning, as soon as Ron had time after morning chores, he found a little box to put her in, and we went to the cage to get her to end her pain. It was a devastating feeling.

But, there, walking slowly but looking about half the size she looked the night before, Cynthia looked at us with bright eyes for the first time in days. She was walking, was not nearly so bloated and swollen, and you could see in her eyes that she felt better. Ron and I were both shocked! I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

“I think that was Jeremiah’s magic,” I said. “I think he willed her to get better.”

Then, I thought about the word “magic” and said, “Love is really the magic, isn’t it?

People don’t believe in magic, but I have seen miracles in the name of love. Maybe that’s the magic we have as creatures. I have to remember that.

Today, Cynthia is doing very well. She loves popcorn, so she had her popcorn last night. Jeremiah is back to his usual self. He’s busy stashing food and bouncing around.

I have no idea how much longer Cynthia has. I assume it can’t be more than a month or two, but I am so moved by the love story between those two mice from two different worlds that I just had to share. Love is so powerful, more powerful than the dark. We have to remember that.

Sending love to you all!

A Fall Update

~ Crystal Sands ~ 1 Comment

It has been another bit since I have written. It seems that losing Rooster was hard on both my heart and my health. There were other things going on as well, but hit a rough patch with my health. Thankfully, I am on the mend, and thankfully, I am meeting with a new doctor on Tuesday. We found out that my son has an insect-borne illness, and I think I might be in the same boat. I will keep you posted because it has been an educational journey for sure, and as insect-borne illnesses are on the rise in the northeast (not sure about other places), it seems important to share what you know.

But I just wanted to give a run-down of the fall and will write more soon. The big news is that I finished the Fall issue of the journal. Please check it out. It’s a beautiful issue–and we have audio, so you can listen to it while you work!

It took me about three weeks to get that all put together because, in the meantime, I have been canning pears, making apple butter, and I have really good news–Ron ordered a batch of baby chicks for me. They are lovely and ornery and perfect!

We have put up a record amount of food this year–eggs, corn, Brussel sprouts, green beans, salsa, spaghetti sauce, pizza sauce, beets, all the jams and jellies, and I can’t even remember all of it. Needless to say, I am thankful for it because grocery prizes are wild.

Boudica and Bairre are doing well. Bairre found his big boy bark, so that’s not great. Still, it’s good to see he will work a little bit–nothing like Boudica, but he will work. The kitties are doing well. Bella has been sleeping by face, which is not great since I am still a bit allergic to kitties. The turkeys are getting huge but still act like babies. They stand outside our bedroom window and wake us up every morning with their gobbles. Turkey gobbles are awesome but terrible at 6:00 in the morning. The mice are doing well, though I thought we were going to lose little Cynthia. That is a story I have to tell soon because it’s a love story.

The drought has been a struggle, but we finally got good rain last week. We need about 10 more of those though, and it doesn’t seem to be happening. The world is crazy and on fire, but you know all about that.

Ruby seems to for sure have ovarian cancer, but she’s got some time, I can tell she’s going to fight. I am pampering her as much as possible, and Ruby, forever the mama, hangs out all day with the baby chicks. I heard her talking sweet to the babies yesterday, and I can tell it was for them because, when Ruby talks to me, she uses her grumpy voice.

I hope you are all doing well and hanging in there. I hope to write more soon. Now that the fall issue of the journal is up, I hope to tell a few stories.

Sending love and light during tough times!

Better Creatures (or on the passing of Rooster)

~ Crystal Sands ~ 3 Comments

Yesterday, when I went to the coop to start morning chores, I saw that my dear friend of more than nine years had passed away. We knew he was in his last days, and I had been thinking for weeks “any day now.” I can’t imagine that there will ever be another like him anywhere, but, logically, I know there are. Truly, though, our Rooster was one of the greats.

Rooster arrived on our little farm in the summer of 2016. We didn’t know he was a rooster at the time. We had ordered a small batch of meat birds from a hatchery. Back then, they would send you a “free surprise chicken” with any order over a certain size. Our magnificent Poe had been the free surprise chicken we got in our first batch of meat chickens, so I was excited to see who would arrive with our second batch.

Ron, my husband, had ordered all hens in this batch of birds because we were going to have to keep them in the garden area, as we had no other fenced area at the time. Our garden area is close to our neighbor, and Ron didn’t want our neighbors to have to listen to five or ten or fifteen roosters crowing every morning.

Five or six weeks after their arrival, one morning, I was out doing chores when I heard a crow come from the meat chickens. I wondered what I had just heard and then heard it again. Our “surprise chicken” was a rooster.

We had another rooster at the time who was just a little older than Rooster. He was a Rhode Island Red rooster bought from a hatchery before I understood that there is a big difference between a modern Rhode Island Red and a heritage Rhode Island Red. This rooster was a nightmare, but it was only when Rooster got old enough to help with the girls–and start fighting with this other rooster–that I realized that we may have lucked into the best rooster ever.

I wish Rooster had had a more original name, but somehow Rooster fit. He was named after Rooster Cogburn, and somehow, Rooster seemed to like his name. It was simple and sturdy, even though it somehow never seemed to capture his magnificence.

I remember the first time I understood who Rooster was. It was before Ron built the fence around our giant chicken yard, so we had to be careful free ranging. I got a call from the neighbor that a fox was in her yard headed toward our chickens. I ran outside to find Rooster giving commands to everyone. He had those hens in a line headed straight the coop. The other rooster was hiding in the coop.

It was when the boys started mating that I could see the most profound difference. The other rooster was so aggressive I thought he was going to kill some of the hens. Some people in the chicken forums said it was normal, but I could see Rooster and see that it wasn’t normal. Rooster was a gentleman and danced for the hens before mating. He always gave them treats and was the best tidbitter.

The day I fell in love with him though was the day he saved my favorite hen’s lives. The other rooster had gotten absolutely violent with the hens. Because I was new to chickens and people kept telling me it was normal rooster behavior, I had not gotten ride of the other rooster. One day, that rooster just tore into my sweet hen. I heard her scream from inside the house, and I knew it was bad. I was running her way, but I didn’t get there before Rooster was on that rooster. They fought for a bit until I was able to break it up. Rooster had my whole heart after that, and we never looked back. The other rooster had to go, and from then on out, I would never again tolerate a rooster who was abusive to the hens.

There are so many stories I could tell about Rooster. After all, nine years is a long time, and Rooster was always so interesting. These are a few of my favorites.

When Rooster was five years old, I thought we were going to lose him. He was never one to stand for health checks. He was too independent and dignified. It felt invasive to check his little butt like I did the girls. Plus, he had always been super healthy, so I never worried. But that summer, he was just so run down and was losing weight. I decided it was a time for a health check for that boy, and when I checked him in the coop one night, I saw he was covered in mites.

I scooped him up, and took him straight to the bath tub in the house. I apologized and apologized to him. It was all very undignified, and Rooster, who was a huge boy at this point (big enough that I was a little nervous about those spurs and him being in a bad mood about all this), handled it with as much dignity as possible. I spent hours picking the mite eggs out of his tail feathers. Stoic through it all, when I was finished, I said, “Rooster, that’s close enough. Let’s get you dried, and we’ll get you some treats.” I got out the blow dryer and he tolerated that too.

It was then that the most profound thing happened. I was sitting in the floor with him, just finished with the blow dry, and that big boy walked right up to me, and leaned his head on my shoulder. We hugged for several minutes, and I promised him that he would never have to deal with mites again.

And he never did because I checked that boy every few weeks for the rest of his life.

And my life was changed because of that hug. It was an honor I cannot put into words.

Another great story to tell about Rooster is the time he couldn’t save one of his hens from a hawk. Rooster was devastated. He didn’t let the hens out of the coop for nearly two weeks, and he mourned so much. I didn’t understand that a bird could mourn so visibly, but with head down and heavy heart, mourn he did. I kept telling him it was okay. I kept telling him he got most everyone out of danger, but Rooster was an organizer and not a fighter. He did not fight the hawk, and I could see it bothered him for a long time.

But his good work as an organizer and alarm system saved many hens. I knew the call he would make if a hawk was near, and I never once after that failed to run to his aid. Rooster and I were a team. We were a great team. I think he loved me for my diligence, just as I loved him for his.

I think my favorite story about Rooster is a funny one. A few years ago, we had just put a batch of young hens and roosters into the flock. They were about six weeks old and had been “turned loose” by their mama, so I put them with the rest of the flock. I had to struggle to make sure they got their own food though. It was a challenge because those hens are relentless when it comes to new and interesting food.

So, every morning, I would call the babies into a corner of the pasture and hold off the flock while they ate their baby food. Rooster also liked the baby food and would crowd me. One morning, he got past me and pecked the babies on their heads and started eating.

“Rooster!” I said, shaming him as much as I could. “Those are your very own children. I can’t believe you would take food from them.”

I immediately felt terrible for shaming him. He put his head down and backed away from me, so ashamed looking. I couldn’t believe that I had hurt him so deeply with my shaming. I went back to house heartbroken that I had so clearly hurt Rooster’s feelings.

Later that day, Ron had been outside working in the garden while I was in the house. He came inside with an urgent story to tell me. He explained that he had been saying hello to the baby chickens when he saw Rooster actually pick up some food and literally feed it to one of the babies. Ron couldn’t believe what he had seen.

I was like, “Oh, I have a story for you!”

And I told Ron the story. We were both wide eyed and in awe of Rooster. I mean, that’s some complex behavior. That story is going to stay with me for the rest of my life.

Rooster’s capacity for language was so high I wish someone could have studied him. H listened when I told stories about him, like really stood there with us and listened. As I write this post, I imagine that he would love me telling this stories about him. He listened most when I was talking about him to the neighbors.

Oh, and he made a little noise every time I sneezed. It was three little bok-bok-boks in a row. Every single time her heard me sneeze. I don’t know why, but he only did this for me, not anyone else. Ron said he was blessing me because he worried about me. I have no doubt. Maybe I was one of his hens to him. A few weeks ago, I was in the house, and the windows were opened. I sneezed a big sneeze, and I heard, from far away, “bok-bok-bok.”

What I am going to do without that boy? I wondered.

I just do not know.

Rooster also really loved music. When we finally found a good rooster to be Rooster’s successor a few years ago, Rooster retired from his years of being on duty and constant watch. When Ron works in the garden, he always listens to music. He listens to everything from classical to Pink Floyd. When Rooster finally got to retire, I would see him sitting out there near the speak just resting and listening. I noticed he seemed to like Vivaldi, and Ron noticed that he really liked Steely Dan.

In fact, on Rooster’s last full day on the planet, Ron sat with him for a long time and played music for him. He played a Steely Dan song and sang it to Rooster as well. He said Rooster looked at him in admiration because he could sing the song.

Yesterday, after Ron buried Rooster, and we both said goodbye, we came into the house and had our morning tea and cried. I cried the most, but Ron cried with me.

I wondered how the flock was going to be without Rooster. Rooster has always been. He has established a culture of kindness and order in our flock. Will the flock change without him? Will Dvorak, his predecessor, be able to maintain the same kind of culture? Dvorak came from a breeder here in Maine and is a great boy does not have Rooster’s good genes. His genetics are so poor that we have chosen not to breed him. We will have to find another rooster pretty soon. A good rooster is hard to find, and we need Dvorak to be able to train the next one. But we also need that rooster to be smart enough to learn from Dvorak as Dvorak was smart enough to learn from Rooster.

In addition to our pain of loss, Rooster’s death presents a problem for our farm. He was integral to this operation.

Through my tear, I also wondered about the big questions. What’s the point of all this? Why do we have to hurt so badly? Will Rooster come back in a different form? Will I ever see him again?

And then Ron said one of the wisest things I have ever heard.

“We are better creatures for knowing him, and he was a better creature for knowing us.” He continued, “We respected him and gave him room to be who he wanted to be. And he was loved every day.”

I have been really struggling with depression in recent months. For all the reasons I think a lot of people are struggling, I suppose. I mean, it’s a mad world, is it not?

But Ron said these words that I have to remember always:

“Every day, you show those chickens love. Every day. There is not a single moment of their lives that they are not loved. That’s good for them and good for you,” he said. And then we both added together, “maybe it’s good for the whole world.”

When I am struggling and down and depressed, I have to remember this truth. I may not be able to change the world, but I am doing good. Maybe it’s important too. Maybe the life of a chicken is really important too.

The flock was eerily quiet yesterday and today. Our world has changed with Rooster’s passing.

He passed…

~ Crystal Sands ~ 4 Comments

Friends, I can’t write much, but I wanted to share that Rooster passed last night. I am relieved for him and devastated for me. In my life, I have found very few souls I could count on completely. Rooster was smart, competent, loyal, and a good friend. I knew he would always take care of the flock.

What will we do without him?

Boudica Caught a Rat and Other News

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

Well, Rooster lives, but I do not know how. Well, I do know how. Ron and I are feeding him. I don’t know if this is the right thing to do, because he is having a very hard time, but he seems to really want to keep going. He still has his spirit. He bawked at me a little bit today when I was in the garden picking tomatoes for the sauce. He wanted his own tomato.

When bit it into small pieces, so he could eat it. I cupped it in my hand, so the hens couldn’t steal it. And he struggled, but he managed to get it all down. We are having to carry him into the coop at night because he can’t make it up the ramp. And he made himself a little nest in the straw on the floor because he can’t get on the roosts.

Somehow, despite everything, he is managing to maintain his dignity. He still does everything, even get carried to the coop, with dignity. What are we going to do without him? I just cry every night, and Ron keeps playing his favorite music for him. Rooster really loves music.

And we both try to be so thankful we have had the honor of knowing this noble bird for the last nine years.

***I feel I should post a warning that, below, I discuss the death of rats. It’s a reality of farm life, but not everyone wants to read about the death of beautiful creatures. I don’t like it myself, so you may want to stop reading if you are against the death of rats. I can only tell you that we try everything in our power not to kill them, but they are overrunning most of Maine. Climate change is a part of it, but apparently, people have over-killed coyotes, who eat the rats, and well, you know how humans manage to mess everything up. ***

Boudica caught her first rat tonight! She has been after those rats for years. Years. They are quick, and she is old, which makes tonight’s kill very impressive. Those rats are magnificent, and I hate for them to have to die. However, we think the drought has brought them in like we have never seen in the summer.

About a month ago, we had some big ones running around near the coop, like so big I was absolutely terrified of them. So Ron got out his .22 and just shot at them for about a week in a row. He never killed one and just wanted them to move on. “Just make them feel unwanted,” he said. They did. We didn’t see rats for nearly two weeks, but then a new group moved in.

They were small and cute but were legion. They arrived just last week, and they were so adorable, but they were everywhere. They appeared while Ron and our son were on a mini vacation last weekend. Just when I was thinking how awesome it was that the rats moved on, I went out to the coop Saturday evening to bring in the food and water, and all I could see were cute little rat butts and tails flying out the door and under the nest boxes.

When Ron got home, he decided it was time to set the traps. He set them everywhere, and the first night, he got five rats. That’s a record. The next night, just one, which seems hopeful, although it could be that everyone who was left just got wise. Tonight, Boudica got one on her own.

Ron said she was near the chicken coop and made a super quick move and then just had one. Ron said she was so proud. This was a life goal for Boudica. I wonder how she feels now. Was it rewarding? Anticlimactic? I mean, she has been after a rat off and on for her whole 9 years. I wonder what she will do with herself now? Probably just try to get another. However, I did talk to her tonight when I put up the ducks, and she seemed quite pleased with herself.

Anyway, on the garden front, we are making the spaghetti and pizza sauce this week, and I am beat. I spent this weekend processing one big batch, and then today, I helped Ron peel the tomatoes on my lunch break from work, and then I have spent all evening with the sauce.

I have been back and forth to the kitchen while writing this. I am down to the first round of water bathing right now and am just waiting for the giant pot to boil.

How have you been? What’s up on your farms or homesteads?

A Ruby Update

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

Friends, Rooster is not well. I think we might lose him tonight, maybe tomorrow. He is so old, and it is so time. Still, I am about to be undone by this. He is a fixture. He is my rock in that flock. He has always been, it seems to me.

But I will write more about him soon. I have to try to tell his story in a way that honors that magnificent boy. Tonight, while I was looking through pictures of him, dating all the way back to 2016. I must have a hundred pictures of that beautiful rooster, but I also ran across this picture.

At first, I was like, “Who is this beautiful baby?” Then, I checked the date and the other birds around her. This_is_Ruby!!!

No wonder she is so spoiled! Look at the magnificent baby she was!

I adore that little stinker. She is still hanging in there. Still doing what she wants, when she wants, how she wants. But she hangs out with the flock more. In fact, every morning now, after she proves her point and makes me let her out to run around the driveway, check out the garage, go visit the meat birds, she goes right back to the coop door and wants to be let in. She is almost, a little bit, maybe fitting in with the flock.

Sadly, she is laying soft-shelled eggs every now and then, which means maybe things are starting to go wrong with her health. She’s just four though, and Rooster is her dad, which means she at least has 50% very good genes. Still, Schubert was her mama, and Schubert only lived to age five.

I won’t think about that now though. It’s enough to think about Rooster.

There has been so much loss this year. Mary Jane. Hector. The ducks are starting to pass. When everyone gets so old, it’s inevitable, I suppose, but it’s wearing me down so badly that Ron ordered some baby chicks for me. They arrive in a couple of weeks. I chose some heritage breeds and some unique birds. I needed some joy.

I hope they are half as cute as Ruby was when she was baby.