Tag: ducks

The parts I like…

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

My sweet little duck passed away the night I wrote about her. I was far more relieved than I imagined I would be. She was just peaceful when I found her the next morning, and I found myself so thankful for the wonderful life she had been able to experience. Truly, I cannot imagine a better life for a duck, and she got more than seven years of it. I have so much love for the little animals on this little farm, and I have come to understand that they know this. And, my gosh, that helps with the hard parts.

Last night, it was late when I was putting up the ducks. I called for them and held out the white bowl of peas, and four of them came right away–our drake and three of the old girls. I couldn’t see Anna Maria right away, but I heard her. Because she is blind, I have go searching for her many nights, but I could hear she was close. I kept calling for her.

“Watch out for the rocks!” I called, as she bumped right into the rocks that line the fire pit. But she bounced off, as she does, and kept coming.

“You got this, Anna Maria!” I called, as she came running.

“But wait, there’s a pumpkin vine!” I called as she approached a long pumpkin vine that has spilled out over the fence and into the yard. Sure enough, it caught her, but she shook her webbed feet and escaped the vine’s grasp and was on her way.

I held the peas until she made it to me, and everyone dug into. Even with just five ducks now (down from our seven), they can devour a large bowl of peas in seconds.

Even though Anna Maria will hate me until the very end, I adore that duck. She is so resilient and strong. Ron said she will probably hobble her little blind duck self all the way until she’s the last duck standing. I actually hope not. Can you imagine me trying to care for a duck who hates me all by myself?

But seeing her in action is joyful. She is absolutely a reminder to me that there are good things in life, even when times are tough and you are down. That duck is an inspiration for sure.

And there are other amazing parts of this life. Seven or eight years ago, Ron and I planted a Transparent apple tree. It’s not one known for growing well in Maine, but Ron and I both have a long history with this unusual apple. When we met, it was one of the ways I knew we were meant to be together. His favorite kind of apple was the Transparent–as was mine. And I had only ever had a Transparent apple twice because they are so rare. I actually spent years calling around to apple orchards every fall to see if they had Transparent apples. Ron’s grandparents had a large Transparent apple tree in their yard when he was growing up. He has so many good memories of the tart apple. They are great for cooking.

Ron and I have waited patiently and then without hope that our apple tree was ever going to make a single apple, but this year, it produced! I am so excited to get these apples.

And Ron has fallen in love with the turkeys, and it’s the sweetest thing I have ever seen. I thought they would be mama’s babies forever, but they are giant, giant daddy’s babies. I am no longer strong enough to carry them to bed at night. They refuse to go to their house and roost on our back porch and watch through the glass door while I cook dinner. So every night, Ron carries these giant birds to their roosts inside their house.

Last night, I watched, as our favorite girl, a white turkey who really needs a name, walked right onto Ron’s hand and balanced herself as he held her on his arm. It was beautiful. The trust she has for him is magical.

And I have one more lovely story. The other night, we had just finished putting up our first round of green beans, and it was time to feed the mice. Jeremiah, our rescued deer mouse, is a foodie and is very picky but loves garden fare. We had some tips of the green beans left, and the beans have been really, really good this year. I wondered if he might like a few green bean tips for his dinner.

I collected the dinner options for Jeremiah and his friend, Cynthia, who does not like garden food so much but loves popcorn. So I had blueberries, walnuts, popcorn, and two green bean tips of decent size. I will add something that I am sure will be no surprise to you–both Jeremiah and Cynthia are chunky mice.

Anyway, I gave Cynthia a piece of popcorn and then held out a green bean tip in front of Jeremiah. He leaned in and took a nibble but pulled back. I held it there in front of his mouth just for a little longer in case he changed his mind but decided to give up. I was just about to pull away with the bean when his little paw reached up to my finger as if to say “wait a minute. I’m still deciding.”

I held the bean there a little longer while he held his paw on my finger and considered the bean.

He ended up taking it!

I hate this part…

~ Crystal Sands ~ 4 Comments

Our ducks turned seven this May, and I knew this would be coming, that we would start to lose them. Still, I hate this part more than I can say.

Four nights ago, one of the hens didn’t come for the nightly bowl of peas and the duck game. I knew that was a bad sign, and when I went to pick her up, she was so thin.

I examined her and saw she had a minor bumble on a toe, so I wrapped it but had a very bad feeling. I put her back outside and decided the next morning to bring her in the house to examine her more thoroughly.

I don’t for sure which duck she is. I know Anna Sophia and Luna because they lived in the house for some months, but I can’t tell the other two ducks apart. Of course, there’s Anna Maria, our blind duck, but she is a chocolate runner. The two remaining fawn runners look a lot alike. This duck is either Carmen or Isabella. Those are the other two left.

I brought her into the guest bathroom where I have soaked and bandaged and treated and healed many things over the last seven years with our ducks. She had definitely been in the house before because she wanted in the tub. I took the bandage off of her toe and ran some cool water for her. I put her in the tub and got her all the favorite treats of ducks, and she wasn’t having any of them. I sat with her a bit, and then I saw it.

She pooped in the water a poop that I have seen before. It’s the poop of ovarian cancer. I saw it with Poe, with Broody Hen. I read about it online. I broke down because I knew, for sure, this duck was about to die.

She still had some strength and acted like she wanted to go back outside with her people when they would quack, so I decided to let her stay outside until she just couldn’t.

This is my little duck tonight. I am going to miss her.

Tonight, I decided she just couldn’t.

I have been checking on her many times a day the last couple of days, but today, I just couldn’t find her. In between meetings at work, I would look and never found her. I figured she was probably going off alone to die.

I finally found her in the corner of the turkey house, and tonight after dinner, I decided to scoop her up, bring her in, and go into hospice care.

I really, really hate this part.

She leaned into me so hard when I picked her up. I made up a bin for her with fresh straw and put a bowl of water and peas in for her. I know she won’t eat the peas, but I have been giving her peas every single night of her life for seven years. I wanted her to at least have them.

And then I remembered that ducks love cello. I found a piece my son played, a meditation on Tom Petty’s “Wild Flowers,” and I played it for her on my phone. It is has that beautiful, deep cello sound, so I knew she would love it. She did. She watched the video and just closed her eyes to relax. It was the best final gift I could give her.

I cried the gross kind of cry and held the phone for her, so she could listen to it twice. I kissed her goodnight and told her goodbye in case she passes tonight. I hope she passes tonight. Please say a little prayer that she passes tonight. She has had a good, very long life. I know this. I wish for her passing to be easy.

Also, Tuesday, Ruby’s daughter, is gone again. I think it’s been nearly two weeks since she’s been gone. I have looked and looked. She went off broody, as she has done before.

I deeply understand there is nothing I can do about her at this point. She has either passed or will come home in a few weeks with babies. I know the odds are that she will never come home. I hate writing that sentence.

There is much heartbreak to this life. Sometimes, I am not sure I am cut out for it.

Boudica is too good at her job…

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

I just spent an hour trying to get the ducks put to bed. They are so sensitive to routine that anything out of the ordinary causes all kinds of trouble. Every night, I have to come out of the same door with the same bowl with the same peas and say the same things and bend down carefully and then step away carefully or I have messed things and the ducks are upset.

Unfortunately, this is getting hard to do now because poor little Anna Maria. She is getting very, very blind and maybe a little senile. She is pretty old, and she had such a rough start in her early life that she seems older than our other ducks, even though she is the same age. She is getting lost a lot, and I have to help her find her way back to the flock at least once or twice a day.

This is no problem during the day, but when I am trying to put ducks to bed and need everything to happen in the “special duck order,” finding Anna Mara with a flashlight and then carrying her to the duck house is causes some problems.

Tonight, I could never get them back on track. I ended up leaving the bowl of peas outside of the duck house for in the morning and herding those ducks into the duck house against their will. I mean, I started this whole mess at 9:00 PM. It is now almost 10:00 PM. The ducks needed to get put up to be safe.

I realized as I was looking everywhere tonight for Anna Maria that it’s a miracle she is still alive. It is a miracle a predator hasn’t gotten her yet. I pray that doesn’t happen now that I speak about it, but having a blind duck who often gets separated from the flock is a big worry. Every night that I have to go look for her, I worry I won’t find her, but then I remember Boudica.

As long as we are home (and we are home most of the time), Boudica is working. She protects those ducks all day and into the night before I get them put up to give Boudica a rest. She has done such a good job that Anna Maria, our blind duck with struggles, is getting a little senile she’s so old.

I hope this doesn’t get too much worse for a while. I want Anna Maria to have a good quality of life. I think she does. She can find the little plastic swimming pool, and sometimes, when the other ducks are out and about, she just plays in the pool all by herself. I think she likes it. I don’t think she’s too lonely.

But Boudica is very, very good at her job, isn’t she?

Transition

~ Crystal Sands ~ 2 Comments

We are in the transition period around here. I have many stories to tell but am only just now feeling well enough to write very much. I think I mentioned the week before last that my son was really sick. Of course, I caught it, and it was a rough one. I don’t think I have been this sick since COVID. But I am so happy to report that I am doing better, and today, for the first time, I was able to do some real work around the homestead.

I did a deep clean on the duck house, even the windows, which I am sure will be completely dirty again when I let them out in the morning, but I tried. I also worked on raking up the straw from around their house and around their food–and at the little warm spot under the dryer vent at the back of the house where the ducks like to hang out every winter. It was so snowy this winter that we put down a lot of straw for the ducks, and now, we have layers of straw to gather and compost. I didn’t get it all finished, but I made good progress. Next weekend I will try to finish that task.

I always wished for a barn for those ducks in the winter, but I don’t think we are ever getting a barn for them. The ducks will be seven years old this year, and I can see that we probably don’t have too many more years with them. In fact, the other night, when I went to give the ducks their peas, I couldn’t find Anna Maria. I was so worried because we have had the owls hanging out again. Hopefully, they are getting the rats, but I worried they maybe got Anna Maria. I found her though, and I knew there was trouble because she let me pick her up.

I brought her into the house to study her and couldn’t find anything wrong until I got to her vent. She had a soft-shelled egg stuck, only it wasn’t that soft. That poor baby! I held her, and Ron very gently got it out. She’s doing fine now, but this is not a good sign. The ducks are laying more soft-shelled eggs than proper eggs right now, so I had to research.

And it’s not easy to research this because it is rare to find anyone who has had Indian Runner ducks this long. In all of the forums I have ever been in, it’s rare anyone has a duck more than three years. Usually, the ducks are killed by predators, but Boudica and I work together to keep those ducks as safe as possible.

Anyway, all I could find was one Reddit thread where a woman asked about ducks in old age laying soft eggs. Only two people responded. One person said, to keep the ducks alive, they would need birth control, that laying eggs as their bodies are failing will kill them. This is devastating to me, but I looked up the birth control, and it’s about $300 per duck. That’s not possible, so I am going to hope and pray they just stop trying to lay. However, I did read that one thing you can do is supplement their diet with Vitamin D. I always thought soft-shelled eggs came from lack of calcium, which made no sense to me because they have a high calcium food. Interestingly, according to what I read, as the ducks age, their bodies stop processing Vitamin D very well, so they need extra. I hope that’s true because I started adding a vitamin mix to their water that has a lot of Vitamin D.

Please cross your fingers for little Anna Maria and Luna and Anna Sophie, our cello-loving duck.

Ron has been busy all week building a brood box for the turkeys. Turkeys! That’s right, I have an incubator full of chicken eggs, and now I have an incubator full of turkey eggs. I’m terrified I am going to mess this up, as I have never hatched turkeys, but I’ll write more about that later.

Mainly, I have to tell you about the brood box. Ron is a person who, if he is going to do something, it is going to be magnificent. You should see the grape arbor he built last year. A tornado could come through here, and that thing will stand. It’s also beautiful because he also has to make things beautiful. It’s the poet in him, I think. The brood box is a masterpiece, and it’s giant. I think, if I can get the eggs to hatch, the babies will do well there.

Ron has also planted some seeds, so it’s all upon us. It’s the transition time, and there is so much to do. It’s a bad time to get sick for sure, but I am thankful to be getting better.

I also have one more little side note that I thought would surely make you smile.

I wrote before about how I try to bring different treats every night for dinner to our rescued deer mouse, Jeremiah, and his friend and roommate, Cynthia. Well, lately, Jeremiah doesn’t want anything different. He only wants pecans. I know he’s stashing them though, so last night, I told him there would be no pecans. I made homemade popcorn because it’s Cynthia’s favorite. Jeremiah likes it too, but he was sad because there were no pecans. I started with the popcorn, and he took it at first but then dropped it. He looked back at me. I had some fresh blueberries, so I gave him a blueberry next. It’s from the grocery store, so he only eats those when there’s nothing better, I guess, so he wouldn’t even take that.

“That’s all there is tonight,” I told him. He looked around at my hands, and I went on about my business of trying to pet Cynthia. Jeremiah gets the “zoomies” at night, so there’s no catching him to pet him.

Anyway, I talked to Cynthia a bit and then looked over to see that Jeremiah had a pecan in his mouth. I knew he had a stash! I guess he was saving them in case I failed to show up with them at some point. He is well prepared I guess.

I hope we are all as good at preparing as Jeremiah. It seems like an important skill to have right now.

In Memory of a Mean Girl

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

Warning: This post discusses the death of an animal.

If you follow my blog, you know that after we rehabilitated Luna’s broken leg this winter, we had a hard time re-integrating her with the flock because she was being abused to the point of having a broken bill. Luna spent another six weeks or so in the house as we healed her bill, and when we were able to finally move her back outside, we had to take our duck bully, Carmelita, also known as “mean girl,” and isolate her for a week to allow Luna time to adjust to the flock without being being abused.

This was Carmelita way back in 2019 when she was just in her second year here on the farm. She was always our biggest duck and was so beautiful. It was only in the last couple of years that she became so mean. I think she got grumpy with age.

I was angry with our mean girl. I did start to feel terrible for her after having to be isolated for a week, but the plan worked. Carmelita quit bullying Luna for the most part, and harmony was restored to the flock. Still, I am ashamed to admit, during the middle of all this process, we noticed one of our ducks was laying an abnormal egg. I knew something was wrong with someone, and at six years of age, I figured we would lose one of our ducks within the year. It would be our first loss. We have kept all of those hens safe all of these years, but loss always comes. I said out loud, “I hope it’s mean girl.”

I wish I had not said those words.

The night before I had to leave our farm and fly to Oklahoma because my little brother is so ill, I went out to give the ducks their peas, and only six ducks came. With Ferdinand, our male, we should have seven ducks, so I went looking. It was pouring rain, and I searched and searched and couldn’t find her. I realized it was our mean girl who was missing.

The night before, she had been slow to come to the peas, but she did come. She ate peas and went to bed like normal, so I didn’t think anything was really wrong. I just thought she was maybe busy hunting bugs and didn’t come to the peas. Still, on this night, I knew things were bad because I couldn’t find her anywhere. The peas were long finished, and everyone else was going to bed. Something was definitely wrong.

After about half an hour, it stopped raining, and I could see a little better. When I shined my flashlight behind the woodpile in the back of the fenced area, I could see her. When I went to her, she just came to me, so I knew things were serious. At first, in the dark, I thought she had a broken egg stuck in her vent, but I had to bring her inside to get a better look.

What I saw was devastating. Her vent had prolapsed, and the tissue was damaged, like she had drug it across the wood of the woodpile or something along those lines. There is a slim chance you can heal a prolapsed vent, but with this kind of damage, I knew we were at the end.

I researched to see the best way to cull a duck. I had always heard to use the broomstick method, but I read as I was researching that the broomstick method only works for chickens, that it can lead to suffering in a duck because their necks are stronger. I could tell she was in pain. I went to Ron.

It was so late into the evening, but I am so thankful to report that Ron didn’t hesitate. He got dressed and went to get his tools. After years of research and talking to both a vet and scientist, the best way to cull a chicken is with a clean cut with a hatchet, and Ron is masterful at it. He says, when he has to cull, it’s like the universe guides his hand to make it quick and clean. I needed him to end our mean girl’s suffering.

While he got everything ready, I sat with our girl in the bathroom, saying goodbye to her. I apologized for having to isolate her that week some months ago. I knew it was hard on her. I touched her and leaned into her, and she leaned right back. She had some tremble but not much, she seemed so ready. I wish I had found her sooner. She must have been suffering for at least a couple of hours.

Death had been very much on my mind anyway due to circumstances with my brother, and I thought so much about the ends we all come to as I sat with Carmelita. There she was–the biggest duck, the boss of the flock, the duck who had bullied Luna until Luna could have died–only now she was fragile, tired, worn, ready. Humbled by the reality that humbles all of us I suppose–even the bullies among us–and my heart ached for her. I told her over and over I loved her. I reminded her of all the good times when she was a baby and lived in the house, of all the peas, of the rain, the bugs, the duck games. I swear she understood it.

When Ron came to get her, I asked him if he needed help, as he had never culled a duck, but he said no. He wasn’t gone long.

When he came back in the house, he said it was the easiest cull he had ever done. He said he probably didn’t even have to use the tiny rope to hold her head, though he did just in case. He said she laid her head down voluntarily and was ready. He said he felt her acknowledge what had to be done. He said he prayed for her to have a good journey.

And just like that, she was gone.

I am going to miss that duck, but the next day, when I let the flock out in the morning, they didn’t skip a beat. In fact, there was maybe a little more peace in the flock. Our mean girl was gone, and life goes on.

Life on the farm goes on, but I have thought about her every day and the life lessons I learned from her that night as we sat together in her last moments.

What a profound thing all of this is.

The Night Before

~ Crystal Sands ~ 1 Comment

Tonight, we are expecting another big storm, another nor’easter, and I think we are ready. There is gas for the generator; Ron cleaned the chicken coop since the poor chickens will likely be confined to the coop all day; and I made enough homemade pizza to last three days.

I am not really ready mentally though. I feel especially worn of winter this year, and I worry about the poor chickens. It’s been a back and forth spring for sure with quite a few storms. The chickens get some freedom, and then they lose it. They get some freedom, and then they lose it. I noticed during the last nor’easter that tempers were flaring. In their older age, Bertha and Cora are pretty grumpy.

But I wanted to tell a quick story about Luna.

Luna is living her best life in the mud.

I have been making sure I touch her every night during peas because I don’t want her to forget about me. When Anna Sophia was in the house for a couple of months, we were best good friends, and a few weeks after she moved back with her people, it was like she forgot all about me. The only thing I notice is that she is almost always the last one in the duck house after playing the duck game after peas, but that’s all I get. She went back to her wild and free self. I don’t want that to happen to Luna–at least not all the way.

Luna is certainly living it up as her wild and free self. Ducks love mud season more than life itself it seems, and Luna, who was so clean and neat in the house is wild and dirty every day. She’s the dirtiest one.

Tonight, I got a sad surprise because, when she was eating her duck peas, she wouldn’t let me touch her! I tried twice, and she moved away from me. I stood above the ducks while they ate and watched the wind blow through the trees, signaling what is to come tonight.

I was thinking to myself, “This is how it goes. You love things and then you have to let them go.”

But, then, when we were playing the duck game, I noticed it was Luna who was the last one to go into the duck house instead of Anna Sophia, so I decided to see if I could pick her up. She let me. She looked a little concerned at first, so I said, in my sweetest sing-song voice, “Luna baby,” And the look in her eyes changed. I could see she remembered me still.

I leaned my head in and she leaned her head in, and we just stood there, leaning in for a minute. She rubbed her head on my cheek just like she used to do, and I was so grateful.

I sat her down in the duck house and told her I loved her. She went back with her people.

I miss Luna–and other updates

~ Crystal Sands ~ 3 Comments

Tomorrow will mark the two week anniversary of Luna returning to the flock. We had to keep the bully duck separated for a week, but Mean Girl has now returned to the flock as well. Our plan worked, and Mean Girl is no longer Mean Girl and is now just Carmelita again. Luna is getting along very well, though, I swear, in all of the snow and ice here yesterday, I think she looked at me with a certain kind of longing for her warm fire and Back cello suites.

Still, she is doing very well overall. The other ducks will not let me touch them unless they need some kind of help, but every night, when I deliver the bowl of peas at bedtime, I just touch Luna all over her little feathers and tell her I love her so much. She lets me. And that’s the extent of our relationship now. I can’t stop missing her, and I am definitely changed for the better by my experience with her. This summer, I’m going to make our son play some Bach on his cello outside on the deck where she can hear. I want to see if she remembers.

In other news, the ducks and chickens are laying in full force. I have been too worn out to try to sell eggs, even to most of our regular customers, so I think right now we have about 10 dozen eggs in the house–and that’s with our son eating many, many eggs every day. He loves fresh eggs. It’s a good thing he lives on a chicken farm.

Look at these beautiful duck eggs. That striped one is the little miracle Luna left for us the last night she was in the house. I did pretty well keeping her out of the light, and she only laid an egg about twice per week. I guess her “ink” was doing funny things. What a treasure!

We have had some terrible weather the last couple of days. Everything was all spring like, and I was ready for it. Then, we got snow and then more snow and wind and rain and ice and then some more snow. Ron and I spent all of yesterday shoveling trying to keep the ducks comfortable and trying to stay ahead of the ice. We did pretty well overall, but still, this morning, I had to use warm water to open the doors on the chicken coop and shed with the straw.

I told Ron this morning that I had never seen anything quite like this morning, but then I realized I remember saying that last year when we had the -50 degrees with the wind chill and that this is what climate change is all about–a whole bunch of “I have never seen anything like this before.”

Speaking of climate change, I actually went back to really writing this week. I have been in a drought for a long time. I have much to write in the blog, but I spent last week working on an article about climate change in Maine that will be published next month. The article was interesting to research, and I learned so much. It also felt good to be back to work in that way. When I was really struggling with COVID, I made a bunch of deals with myself and the universe that, if I could just get better, I was going to focus my energy on things I love much more. I am happy to be back to writing.

I sure miss Luna though.

Ruby showed up, like there was no big deal.

~ Crystal Sands ~ 1 Comment

Friends, I just had to write this morning to update you on Ruby and Luna. First of all, Ruby showed up this morning. She appeared from under the chicken house acting like there was no problem at all. She must have been chilly out there, but she’s just fine this morning. I am so thankful for that chicken and also sometimes worn of her antics. She just can’t seem to be like everyone else though, and I guess you can’t blame her for that.

Also, Luna was just fine last night for her first night in the duck house. Of course, our bully is still being separated, but it’s a great start for Luna. Hopefully, a week of separation will help Mean Girl (her real name is Carmelita, but I think she’s just going to be Mean Girl for now on) find her inner kindness. Let’s hope!

Though I miss Luna, one perk is that I now seem to have time to write. Luna was a lot of work these three months. It was worth it to get to know her on such a deep level, but I am kind of looking forward to getting back to writing.

Luna, Ruby, and a Really Tough Night

~ Crystal Sands ~ 5 Comments

When I wrote last, I wrote about my struggles with COVID, and dear readers, I am sad to report things got worse. To make a long story short, that “set back” I wrote about last time ended up being a much bigger set back than I thought it might be. Because of my autoimmune disorder, I ended up at the hospital–twice. I turns out my immune system decided to attack my nervous system. I had hours of not being able to walk or talk, and it was scary. Thankfully, I am doing much–much better. Thankfully, my immune system did not decide to attack my autonomic nervous system. I had to look that up when the doctor mentioned this. That’s the one that controls your automatic functions like breathing. Yeah, I am feeling pretty lucky overall, friends. Pretty lucky and very, very grateful!

I have been pretty joyful since getting out of the hospital last Thursday. I am joyful to be walking, talking, and spending time with my family–my furry and feathered family as well. Tonight, however, I am a little down because Luna is sleeping in the duck house for the first time since December 14 of last year, and I miss her terribly.

When the snow melted and the water puddles came, she started really wanting to go outside, but we have one duck, our Mean Girl, as I now refer to her, who kept beating Luna up so badly that I kept having to bring Luna back to the house. I finally devised a plan to let Luna join the rest of the flock–our Mean Girl is being isolated for a few days, maybe even a week or two. Meal Girl is spending her days in a fenced area where she can’t get to Luna to attack her, and we put her in a crate at night and bring her into the garage for safety. Mean Girl does not like this any little bit, but it’s necessary. Luna had a great day today, and hopefully, she’s doing well in the duck house tonight.

But when I took peas out to the ducks and Luna ate the peas and went into the duck house like everyone else, I cried and cried.

I am worn from cleaning up duck poop and carrying buckets of water as I empty her tub, but my heart is broken thinking about how much I loved the sound of Luna’s little duck feet walking across our old wooden floors. Her little webbed feet made such a splat-splat-splat as she took each step. And how I loved watching her sit in the morning sun coming through the window and fall asleep listening to her Bach cello suites.

I miss her already.

Sadly, I am missing someone else tonight. Ruby is literally missing. I am trying not to worry because she’s Ruby. She’s smart and is surely just hiding somewhere I can’t find her.

We had to leave right before dark to go pick up our son from art class in town, and Ruby was wanting to get in the coop. We were running late though, so I didn’t have time to get her into the coop. Ruby normally just perches on the gate until we get home, and then we put her up. When we got home tonight, she was not on her gate–or in the coop.

We searched and searched and could not find her. I have to believe that she is somewhere nearby just hiding and being stubborn. It will be cold tonight but not cold enough that she can’t make it. I just hope nothing gets her. Surely not. I can’t imagine life without that hen.

Send good vibes for Ruby and Luna tonight. I am saying a little prayer to the universe that no one picks on Luna in the duck house tonight and that my stubborn, quirky little Ruby is outside waiting for me in the morning. Please, oh please, let me find that bird in the morning.

photo credits: Ron Sands

Farm Chores in Times of COVID

~ Crystal Sands ~ 3 Comments

Last week, I took a test and confirmed that I have COVID. Our whole family has had COVID, and it has not been easy for sure. We made it four years without catching it. I have both an autoimmune disorder and asthma, and my mom ended up getting long COVID, so I really didn’t want any part of it. Still, after a while, it just seemed we couldn’t ask our teenage son to keep masking when no one else was. I mean, I don’t mind being strange, but it’s hard to ask your kid to be strange for you. Plus, we were vaccinated, so we decided to just take our chances. Thankfully, we are doing okay overall, but every time I think I am doing better, I go right back down. I am a bit down today because this morning was another setback. I woke up this morning worse than I have been in a couple of days. Nevertheless, I got up and did my farm chores.

And that has been the biggest challenge during all of this–the farm chores. Last week, there were a couple of days I could barely move, but I drug myself out of bed every morning and hauled those buckets of water and carried the bag of feed and did my part–all in extremely slow motion. I noticed one morning that it had taken us two hours to do what we normally do in one. In some ways, I don’t even know how we did it, but you always find strength you didn’t know you had when you have no choice, right?

The whole thing has been a reality check for my life though. My full-time work doesn’t allow for sick days really, so I had to keep working. It was really hard to concentrate. We live thousands of miles from family, and our isolation has never felt more significant. I’m questioning a lot of things.

Still, I am so proud of us because we are making it. Ron has been sicker than I have ever seen him, but he just never stopped. Some mornings, I was moving so slowly on my part of the chores that he would grab the buckets from my hands and finish my chores too after he had finished his own. Some evenings, when he just couldn’t get up, I carried in the feed and water and closed up the chickens and ducks by myself. We took turns when we could and never stopped trying. We took care of each other. I realized that we are pretty self reliant–not completely, of course, but quite a bit.

All of the animals are doing just fine, except for poor Bairre and Boudica. We have not been able to take them on their long walks, and they are both more than a little depressed. Oh, and the chicken coop really, really needs a cleaning, but thankfully, the snow and ice have all melted, allowing the chickens to have full run of their giant fenced yard, which means they are not spending too much time in the coop anyway. Just for sleeping. And I’m pretty sure that, tomorrow, Ron and I will be well enough to clean it out–at least Ron will be able to, and I’ll do my best to help. Ron is noticeably better today.

Cooking has been brutal though. I managed to cook homemade pizza on Thursday, but that’s the last successful thing we have eaten. Ron won’t do take out, so he’s been trying to cook after I gave up on Friday. It has not been pretty. We all just look at the food, laugh and cry a little, and do our best to eat it because we know our bodies need it. We can’t taste much anyway, but somehow, I can still taste “bad.” I am about to have to try to make some bread, so we can eat sandwiches of sorts for a few days. Wish me luck!

I realized during all this that I cannot even imagine being a full-time farmer and getting really sick. What do you do? Who do you call? There are no sick days. Hopefully, all of the full-time farmers I know have a good a support system. I can see it’s needed.

On a side note, since the snow and ice have melted, we started putting Luna outside for a little bit in a separate fenced area. Yesterday, I put the two mean ducks in the fenced area and let her have some time with the rest of the flock. Hopefully, we will get her integrated gradually, but I don’t know if she wants to be. This morning, she acted so tired that I just let her stay in the house and listen to music. She seems so content right now. What in the world are we going to do with her?