Tag: farm animals

In memory of plain Jane and sweet Charlotte

~ Crystal Sands ~ 1 Comment
That’s our sweet Charlotte right in front.

In the last week, we have lost two members of our flock. One was a bit of a surprise, and the other came suddenly but was a very old girl.

First, last Saturday evening, I had just been out giving treats to the flock and all had been well, but when I went out to close up the chickens, right in the front door I saw a dead hen. It was a big girl, and in the dark, I panicked and thought it might be Mary Jane. I went inside to get the flashlight and came back to find that it was Jane, Mary Jane’s daughter. She was only four year old, so it was hard to lose her. I am not sure why she passed. I could find nothing wrong with her. It looked like it was just that her heart had given out.

Jane was not supposed to be with us. During the start of the pandemic in 2020, there was a chick shortage, so I used our incubator and hatched quite a few baby chicks for people, probably about 100 in total. Some were given as chicks; others were raised by us until they were ready for a coop. We gave them to people and never charged money, but sometimes, people gave us gifts in return. We got a whole cord of wood from a couple of guys, so that was really nice. Jane was supposed to go out to those guys, but in the end, we decided to keep her.

I had tried really hard not to get attached to all those babies because I knew they were for other people, but Jane was a stand out. She was so curious, always checking me out. One day, Ron said, “There’s one hen in out there I think I’d like to keep.” As he began to describe her, I knew it was Jane! I was so excited that we agreed on keeping her, and so Jane, named so because she was the plainest hen in terms of looks, became a part of our flock.

She fit in so well, and in 2021, when I drove up north to get Poe grand baby eggs, it was Jane who went broody first and raised those babies. Jane raised Cora, Bertha, and Poe Jr. Jr. She did a great job–really too good of job–because Juliet was also raising a clutch at the same time, and Jane bossed Juliet around so badly that Juliet and her babies could barely move around with Jane’s permission.

Interestingly, Juliet had two hens she raised during that time. One was Ophelia who Juliet ended up rejecting early for some reason, and the other one was the only and only Ruby. I feel like Jane may have caused a lot of stress during Ruby’s upbringing, which goes a long way in explaining Ruby.

I am going to miss Jane so much. I assume she died a bit on the young side because she was a big girl with meat-bird genes, but she had a very, very good life in the flock, and I am so glad she stayed with us, especially since every single chicken we gave to those guys for the wood ended up being eaten by a fox. I think a lot of people got chickens during the pandemic, even when they weren’t quite ready for them. I quit hatching chicks for people after that because you know how I am, and the fox stories made me very sad.

This is Jane when she got to be a mama–a fierce mama. That baby chick next to her is Poe Jr. Jr.

Our sweet Charlotte died yesterday in the evening. It was also very sudden with no signs of illness at all. She was just old; she was out in there in the pasture with her people and then just died. She has been with us for a long time. She was a Buff Orpington I bought from a man in early 2017. He was selling them because his daughter had bought too many chicks, and as they grew up, she was overwhelmed. I bought Charlotte and Emily from him and immediately fell in love with them. I don’t know if they were sisters, but when you get a pair of hens, you just have to name them as if they are, so I named them Charlotte and Emily, after the Brontes.

I had hoped I was buying from a local breeder but was too naive to ask. I was more than a little disappointed when I found out they came from Tractor Supply, but it turned out to be okay. Charlotte was seven years old when she passed. Emily is still going, though I expect we won’t have her much longer. Still, that’s a pretty good run for some Tractor Supply chickens.

Emily and Charlotte were very close. They were inseparable for years, and in later years, still hung out a lot. Saint-Saens is either Emily or Charlotte’s daughter, and she always hung out with them as well. It’s one of the most fascinating things to me about chickens, but they tend to hang out with the people who look like them.

It was also interesting to me that both Emily and Charlotte got grumpy in their older age–a little mean sometimes. Buff Opringtons are such a docile breed, and those hens were so sweet most of their lives. Still, about two years ago, I noticed they were both just pecking everyone on the head like they owned the place. I guess they did. They were officially a part of the old guard in the coop, and I am so sad to have lost Charlotte.

But she was out pecking and scratching in the pasture and doing what she loved when she passed. She lived a very, very good life.

Last night, I tried to show her to Emily, to make sure Emily understood, but Rooster was too out of sorts about it. So, this morning, when Ron was about to take Charlotte out to the deep woods to feed a fox or someone in need, he held her down and showed her to the flock. He said the flock got very quiet and that Emily looked for a long time.

For various reasons I hope to write about soon, we can’t get any baby chickens this year and maybe next year. We also have several older hens. I am coming upon a time of loss–death without any new life–in this cycle of our farm as we try to downside our flock.

It’s going to be hard on my heart.

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.

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

I’m rich! Again. For a little bit. And a general update.

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

It has been nearly two weeks since I have written, and I think this may be the longest I have been away from this blog since I started it. I have started and stopped many posts, but life gets in the way of my writing, as it does, but it has been doing so especially of late.

I love little Luna to the moon and back, so much so that I am going to have a hard time letting her go back to flock when the snow melts. It’s going to be a process, but she has healed so well that I think she should be able to go back to her people. I know it’s best for her. She needs to hunt for bugs and play in the mud, but I struggle with a possessive kind of love. Life keeps teaching. me, but I am a slow learner. Anyway, she’s a lot of work though, and I think my Luna work has taken up the nooks and crannies of my life when I used to be able to write.

Of course, all of that could just be an excuse. I think I have some writer’s block too. I think I’m struggling with the “what’s the point of all of this anyway” kind of writer’s block–the disillusioned kind. It feels good to be writing tonight though, so I’ll tell you what all has been going on.

First of all, I’m rich with eggs again! The light comes back so quickly here in Maine, and we went from getting 2 to 3 eggs per day to 12 to 14 eggs per day in no time, it seems. I feel so rick when the eggs come back. We have eaten eggs for breakfast and dinner, and I even had enough to sell my first carton last week. It was so good to see my favorite egg customer again. I love that she loves our eggs.

The hens are doing well. The three roosters are still getting along. Rooster is hanging in there, still enjoying his retirement. Mary Jane is doing so well that I found her on the top roost again last night. This morning, however, she was wise enough to not jump down on her own, and she waited for me to scoop her up and put her on the coop floor. I guess neither of us wanted a repeat of her leg injury. Thankfully, tonight she was in a nest box, which is not up nearly so high.

Ruby is still doing her Ruby thing, though she’s had some struggles this winter. Petty’s babies are kind of a gang, and they like the driveway, which has always been Ruby and Juliet’s territory. Well, this little gang has been mean to Ruby and Juliet and running them off. I’m probably going to have to do something about this because I watched out the window yesterday and poor Ruby just went from one chicken to another who was mean to her. It was like she couldn’t get away. They don’t hurt her. Thankfully, our flock isn’t like that, but they make it known that she is an outcast. They don’t like her nervous energy perhaps.

People like certainty. I am uncertain about everything. I think chicken’s like certainty too. I think Ruby and I are too much the same.

In sadder new, we lost a dear friend to a tragic accident this weekend, so we have been in some mourning. Also, yesterday, on our evening walk, a dog off lead came up to us, and Boudica turned into a werewolf. She is so, so, so strong and so fierce. I have a fairly seriously pulled muscle in my shoulder thanks to that little scene. I kept her away, but it took literally every bit of strength I had in my body. I am in quite a bit of pain today, so it was a rough weekend. It was hard to do the morning chores this morning.

The seeds we ordered have arrived, and we are planning the spring. I just have to order the Oxheart carrots still. Oh, and we ordered some cherry trees and two more pear trees. I have decided after having my own canned pears all winter that I cannot live my life going forward without my own canned pears.

Finally, I am ready for the winter to be done with us. I know we surely have at least a month or more to go, but we are getting close. I think, maybe, I see some buds coming on my Maple tree friend.

Rooster’s Retirement

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

Do you remember last winter when I was worrying about Rooster, thinking he may not make it through the winter? Well, we are here in the middle of yet another winter, and that boy is going strong–stronger than I have seen him in at least a couple of years. I think I know why.

Rooster has retired from his job.

Rooster has always been a worrier. I think that’s why I have always loved him so much. He’s my kindred spirit. He has also been the one chicken in our whole flock who continued to struggle with the respiratory illness from 2019 years after everyone else was doing great. In the winter, every winter, he would rattle when he breathed sometimes. I tried everything from my natural remedies to breaking down and doing a full round of prescribed antibiotics. He would get better, but we would always relapse. I realize now that it was maybe from the stress of his job because Rooster is doing surprisingly well in terms of his health. I have not heard a single rattle from that boy all winter (I am literally knocking on wood right this second), and he seems so happy–happier than I think I have ever seen him.

A few years ago, we tried to keep a second rooster, Romeo. Rooster really seemed to like him, but Romeo started harassing and then hurting Ruby, so….

I remember thinking that Rooster seemed mad at us for quite some time after that. So, when Dvorak got his chance to try for second rooster of our flock, I was so grateful it worked out.

I noticed that Rooster trained him well and that Dvorak learned well. Dvorak is a very smart boy and seems to be a bit of a worrier like Rooster, though not to the same extent. He paid close attention to Rooster though. You could see him studying Rooster. It was awesome to see. Dvorak was my sweet baby boy from the summer of 2022. I had never seen such a sweet, snuggly baby boy, so I was so thankful he got along with Rooster and developed into an excellent rooster for our flock. Dvorak doesn’t have much of a tail, but he has a big heart.

He and Rooster have worked really well together guarding the flock, and I noticed that, with Dvorak around, every now and then, Rooster would take a rest this summer and just dust bathe or stretch out in the sun. He could NEVER do that before. Still, it wasn’t much of a rest, and he mostly kept working.

Then, Ruby raised two babies in the late spring, and they both turned out to be boys. I was devastated because, with two roosters, we could never keep three. Our flock is just not quite big enough. I found the best home in the history of the world for the gray rooster, but we still had the little black rooster. He was pretty skittish because he was raised by a neurotic mama (Ruby), but he just kept getting more and more beautiful. His real mama is Hector, and he started to look like Black Copper Maran rooster like his mama. And these roosters are gorgeous!

I wanted to keep him, but I figured there was no way. Too many roosters means misery for the hens. I started looking for a home for him. He comes from a great breed and is carrying a very dark egg gene. This is prized, so I thought it would be very easy to find him a home.

Twice, I thought I had made the deal, but when it came time to really do it, they changed their minds. One just ended up being too far to drive, even though I was willing to drive a long way to help. This was also right in the middle of “Free Rooster Looking for a Good Home” season in the fall on social media, so I had to admit defeat.

I asked Ron about what to do, and he said maybe we should try to keep him. I agreed that it wouldn’t hurt to just try, but we both agreed that if the hens started to suffer that he would have to go. I would try again to find him a home, and if that didn’t work, well….

Dear readers, I am happy to report that it worked out very well–like better than I could have imagined well because, as it turns out, Rooster really just wanted to retire. He is pretty old after all. He is 8 years old, which is really good for a Rooster who has been eating feed formulated for hens his whole life.

Dvorak went to work right away training the new boy, and Dvorak is young, so he was just extra. He watched every move the new boy made and put him in his place right away. He never hurt him, and it was a great sign that he never had to. The new rooster went right along with the program and is now doing great. He’s doing so great that we gave him a name. We decided to name him Rostropovich since we had to give our original Rostropovich to a new home.

And, of course, the final great part of this story is watching Rooster enjoy his retirement. He just does whatever he wants all day long. After the near miss with the hawk, he did work for a few days, but mostly, he rests. He eats. He visits with his favorite hens. He makes sure he gets some of the snacks from the kitchen scraps. I even saw him hanging out in a nest box the other day. He like, “I’m just seeing what all the fuss is about.”

His breathing is clear. He has more energy. I do regular checks on him for mites because, when a chicken is run down, they are more likely to get mites, but he has been free and clear all year. I also saw him mate with a hen the other day, and he doesn’t do that a lot any more. And you can just see it in his face. He’s enjoying life. I have no words for how happy this makes me. It also gives me hope for a worrier like me.

I don’t know how much longer he has, but I am grateful he is doing so well and enjoying some retirement. That sweet boy has earned it. I love him to the moon and back, and I hope Rooster’s retirement makes it so I get more time with him and that he gets more time living a pretty good life.

Plot Twist: A Luna Update

~ Crystal Sands ~ 5 Comments

I was all very much prepared to write a blog post this week about my success with Luna. It has been one month since the “incident” with Bairre when he accidentally stepped on her, and her leg has healed quite well. It is still a little off, and she still has a bit of a limp. However, she gets around very well. It really barely slows her down.

Because Luna was reluctant to eat in the house early on, as soon as she was able, I would let her spend time outside with her people, little bits at a time. It helped get her appetite going, and with her leg wrapped up, she could hang with her flock for at least a couple of hours each day. I was amazed that no one was aggressive to her when she would go back outside for visits. I was so grateful because flock aggression is a real issue with our ducks.

This week, Luna was doing so well and the temperatures were warm enough that I decided to leave her outside all day one day. In the evening, I went to check on her, and she didn’t want to come in. I let her spend the night with her people, and in the morning, I scooped her up, gave her a soak in the tub for about an hour, wrapped her leg, and let her go back outside. This seemed to be working so well for a couple of days until one afternoon I was outside with the chickens and heard a terrible commotion from the ducks. I wish I could have run, but there was so much ice on the ground that it took me a bit to get to the ducks. I found a terrible situation. Luna was at the bottom of a pile, and four of the ducks were absolutely abusing her–like severely. Only Ferdinand and Anna Maria weren’t involved.

I ran to her, but she didn’t want to come to me. She took off, so I yelled at the ducks to knock off this nonsense and realized I had better start keeping a very close eye on Luna, though I thought I already was. For the rest of that day and another one, I checked on her about 20 times each day. It was steady. I didn’t see anything else, but yesterday morning, she was acting really strange. I found her away from the flock, and when I went to check on her, it seemed like she wanted me, which was a surprise. I told her I would be right back. I came inside to run a bath for her and went right back to get her. When I put her in the tub, I saw blood on her bill.

I couldn’t figure out what had happened, but after she was in the tub for a bit and her bill was cleaned, I could see the small cracks near the top, where her head meets the bill. I was devastated! I couldn’t believe the other ducks had done this much damage to her, and I couldn’t believe we were here.

A duck’s bill is far more sensitive that you might think. A duck’s bill has highly-sensitive nerves. I have seen the ducks out hunting at night with their bills to the ground. It’s really fantastic to see. Obviously, seeing Luna with a damaged bill was a big worry.

Her bill not only has some small cracks, there is a tiny missing chip from the outer area. I researched about what to do, so I treated her with antibiotic spray to prevent infection. I then had a talk with Ron about what this might mean.

There is a chance Luna may never be able to go back with her people. I found out later from our teenage son that he had to break up an attack on Luna the afternoon before I saw her injury, and he forgot to tell me about it. I told him to please, please tell me when things like that happen.

With these attacks in mind, at the very least, Luna is going to be in the house until spring. I hope we will be able to put her back with her flock, but she is going to have to heal a long time and is going to have to get used to the house right now. Hopefully, we will be able to integrate her back into the flock, but if she gets beat up again, the damage to her bill could be even greater. I don’t know how well it’s going to heal. I don’t know how sturdy a bill will get to be after an injury. I have been trying to research online to get more information, but I really don’t know a lot yet.

All I know for now is that we have to take care of that bill, and Luna is now walking around the house, making herself fairly at home. She’s walking so well now that she won’t stand for sitting her her little nest very much, so she marches those little webbed feet across our wood floors in the cutest manner you could imagine.

Ode to the Rhode Island Red

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment
This is Lucy, who turned out to be my oldest original girl who passed away last year. This was taken when she was just 3 years old. Isn’t she just perfect?

This May, it will be 10 years since I became a chicken mama. I remember the morning those 17 Rhode Island Reds arrived at the post office. I had been researching and dreaming about getting chickens for years, and when I opened that cardboard box full of baby chicks in the early morning light, I fell madly in love. All 17 of our girls were Rhode Island Reds. After researching breeds, I landed on Rhode Island Reds because I read that they handle the cold of Maine well, are considered a high-intelligence breed, and are great layers.

These beautiful chickens had all three of these qualities and were so much more than I ever thought chickens could be. Of course, now I know all chickens are unique and interesting, but at first, I thought my chickens were special. I had always heard people say chickens were dumb, and I knew that was surely not true, but I had no idea just how smart chickens are, especially when it comes to social and emotional intelligence.

It could be the power of that first learning about how magnificent chickens truly are that made me fall so in love with the Rhode Island Red, but I think it’s more than that. Rhode Islands are a fantastic, often overlooked breed. I feel it’s fair to say they are taken for granted.

After all, they lay brown eggs, which, in the chicken world is not nearly as exciting as those blue or green or chocolate or olive eggs. I have certainly spent years chasing the green and blue and olive eggs, and I treasure all of the beautiful colors our girls lay. Still, even after all of the years and the bright colors, there is something so exquisitely beautiful to me about the simple, creamy brown egg of the Rhode Island Red.

Rhode Island Reds lay very, very well–actually too well. One of the first and hardest lessons I learned as a chicken mama is that breeds like the Rhode Island Red, who lay an egg almost every day, have been bred to be that way without consideration for the longevity of the bird. In fact, they are meant to be culled after just 18 to 24 months when they are used commercially (Rhode Island Reds along with ISA Browns are often the ones used commercially), so many of the Rhode Island Reds in our country do not have the greatest genetics in terms of living a long life. Out of the 17 Rhode Island Reds we started with, 7 or 8 were having terrible reproductive issues before they were even 2 years old. It was a blow, and after much research and years of experience, I came to deeply understand that “production breeds” are just not likely to live a long time. You can get lucky. Broody Hen was 8 years old, and Lucy lived to nearly 9. We also had a few girls make it 5 or 6 years, but we lost most of them way too young.

After all of that hard learning early on, I decided to seek out breeds that were not production birds. I didn’t want an egg every day from every hen. I love eggs, but I also wanted my girls to live long full lives. Life on our homestead is a good one. There is protected free ranging, green grass, warm sun, treats, garden time, and lots of love. I want my chickens to get to enjoy that as long as possible and not die early due to reproductive issues or ovarian cancer.* So I found breeds that lay fewer eggs. Most of our chickens are breeds that do not lay super frequently. Instead of 5 to 6 eggs eggs per week like my Rhode Island Reds laid, most of our girls lay just 3 or so times per week, maybe 4 or 5 during peak light, but that is short lived. We also do not light our coop in the winter anymore, so that helps because chickens will not lay eggs without light.

But after so many years of seeking out other breeds, mostly heritage breeds who lay less frequently, I miss the Rhode Island Reds. I have three children of our original girls left who came out looking just like Rhode Island Reds, even though we did not have a RIR rooster–Betty Jr., Joan, and Vivaldi–but that’s all we have. I miss all of those Rhode Island Red girls. I have decided to look into purchasing some heritage Rhode Island Reds.

Rhode Island Reds are an American breed, developed in Rhode Island and Massachusetts in the late 19th century. It was bred to be a dual-purpose bird–for both meat and eggs because Rhode Island Reds tend to be bigger birds. Of course, in recent decades, the commercial RIRs have been bred with a focus just on increased egg laying. The breed was developed by breeding different breeds of Asian chickens with the Brown Leghorn from Italy. According to The Livestock Conservancy, the traditional strains of this breed (heritage birds) are listed as a “watch” breed, which falls in between “threatened” and “recovering.” There are certainly not a lot of heritage RIR breeders out there. I have been searching for years and found just a handful of seemingly reputable breeders. With that in mind, heritage Rhode Island Reds are very expensive chickens.

Still, for my birthday this year, I plan to get myself some. I found a breeder that sells them for $28 per chicken, and I am going to pay it and have some of these beautiful birds again. I have this notion that, when my son is grown, I would like to start a line of heritage RIRs. I have thought about this for years, but I didn’t know if there would be enough interest in the breed. However, since reading they are the “watch” list from The Livestock Conservancy and finding myself missing this fantastic breed so much, I think it’s worth a shot. I need to research more before I invest in a heritage rooster, but I am definitely getting at least 3 or 4 baby girls this summer. I just have to wait for Petty to go broody. She is going to be my go-to mama every year until she stops going broody.

I find myself of late treasuring the things in my life that are simple, sturdy, and good. To me, there is nothing more simple, sturdy, and good than a Rhode Island Red.

***I thought I should mention that there are chicken farmers who argue that there is no connection between the number of eggs laid and ovarian cancer, but my own experience has told me otherwise. Additionally, chickens have been used to study ovarian cancer in humans for years because they ovulate so much, so there is a connection. And, finally, just last year, I read an article in a chicken magazine making the connection between ovulation and ovarian cancer. It just makes sense that that much ovulation is going to increase the chances of cancer in the cells.

2023: A Farmer-ish Reflection

~ Crystal Sands ~ 3 Comments

It feels like this year has been a year of transition in so many ways. I have always been a planner and always had a plan. Since I was about 8 or 9 years old, I have been planning my future and always taking steps to make the next thing possible, but this year, I changed–or at least am in the process of changing–and I am not sure at all what the next thing is. I think I’m just going to have to learn to live in a space of uncertainty. Maybe, in some ways, we all are.

In our years of homesteading, we thought we had learned pretty well how to adapt to climate change. We learned to expect unusual heat and drought, but this year gave us a summer of cold rain. Everything in the garden was stunted for months. Some things rotted in the ground. But we persisted. After carrot seeds were washed away by rain in our first planting and then carrot seedlings were eaten by slugs in other plantings, we planted them a total of four times and got the best crop of carrots we ever had. We learned a new rule: plant carrots late because a hard frost makes them better. Of course, this year, Nature also emphasized that we will never know when that first frost will come. This year, it came Halloween night. The “usual” is mid September.

And, while we were dealing with the cold and wet, the rest of the world was dealing with a heat like no other. In 2023, it seemed that most everyone came to understand that we are dealing with climate change, that it’s coming faster and harder than most of us thought, and that our world leaders are willing to do little more than put band-aids on the problem. At the Climate Change Convention in Dubai in December, a record number of lobbyists from fossil fuel industries were in attendance, and while world leaders reached some consensus about the problems associated with climate change and the need to reduce fossil fuels, few specific plans were made. The scientists I know were devastated by the amazing level of inaction given the year our planet had just had. I even read one article written by a climate scientist that said it’s time to just start trying to deal with this mentally in whatever way we can because we are in for trying times.

I realize this is not the best thing to read on the last day of the year, but maybe there is good in understanding this reality. Humans are smart and adaptive. It’s just time to be as smart and adaptive as we possibly can. The humans in charge aren’t going to help us. We are going to have to be more self sufficient and help each other, and the latter is maybe one of the most important lessons I came to understand this year. I don’t know what that looks like. I don’t know for sure how we are supposed to help each other, but I am hopeful we will figure it out.

In further uncertainty, this year, I had a bit of a health scare. In March, after watching some trauma in a darn television program, my body forced me to come to terms with some trauma from my past–that stuff you block out and hope it goes away can sometimes rear it’s ugly head, I guess. For 8 days, I had a migraine so severe I could barely open my eyes, and I couldn’t move my neck and right shoulder. During those days, especially toward the end when I wondered how long this pain might go on, I started making promises to myself to change my life, to deal with my trauma and to make changes in my life to cut down on stress. I made a promise to myself to treasure time with my loved ones more.

It was during that time that I decided I was going to have to let go of Farmer-ish journal, at least for now. I have this hope that, one day, the journal will come back, and in the mean time, I plan to keep blogging and to find a way to share farming and nature writing from others. I just don’t know what that looks like yet. Not having a plan is pretty scary to me, but I am working hard to learn to go with the flow more. Maybe that’s kind of an oxymoron though, isn’t it? How does one “work hard” to “go with the flow”? We’ll see if I can figure it out.

Right now, finding my flow seems especially challenging because I feel two flows–one toward a path of greater self sufficiency because I see challenging times ahead and another toward my son’s hopes and dreams as a musician. At times, these two paths conflict so much that I am not sure which direction to go. I have to believe that balance and progress is possible in both areas, however, because this feels like my path. I do have to admit though that there is a lot I just don’t know about how to move forward, so I am also trying to learn to just be still and listen to the universe more.

In all of it, 2023 was a fantastic year. We got the best carrots ever, as I mentioned before, but there were many other wonderful experiences and moments of profound learning. I learned how to make rhubarb jelly and to better understand how my brothers deal with their trauma. I learned to trust my son’s skills as both a cellist and a professional in the world when I watched him walk in for the first day of his first job playing in an orchestra pit for a musical. I became closer to Ron and came to more deeply understand him for the treasure he is. I learned that, when it comes to selling organic, humanely-raised eggs, there is nothing to do but take a loss and be thankful chicken poop makes great garden compost. I learned that, sometimes, you just get really lucky when it comes to hatching baby chicks. I still can’t believe all six of Petty’s babies were girls!

I kept my resolution to learn the cello. I am still learning and taking lessons and making progress. I met an amazing chicken lady who lives in Maine but is originally from Costa Rica, and I met a bee whisperer who lives in Maine but is originally from Poland. The last time we went and stocked up on honey, we had a fantastic conversation about observing chickens and bees and what we can learn from them. When Ron and I were leaving, the bee whisperer gave me a hug that I understood to be a hug that said “thank you for understanding me.” I did my best to hug back with a hug that said, “no, thank you. It’s hard to find my people.”

I made homemade vanilla. I made my daughter a beautiful quilt. I learned how to can pears. I learned how to make apple butter. I tried to grow into a better human. It’s been a good year on our little homestead, despite some challenges. It’s been a good year of life, despite some challenges.

That’s how life is though, isn’t it? The challenges and uncertainties are a part of being alive. Finding joy in the process is a part of learning to thrive.

I wish you a beautiful New Year’s Eve and a Happy New Year. Today, Ron and I celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary. He got me a gift for the first time in 14 years. I didn’t get him anything, so I am going to make some special bread.

photo credit: Annie Spratt, Unsplash

She watches the skies.

~ Crystal Sands ~ 2 Comments

This morning, we had a near death experience with a hawk. I did not see it, but we clearly had a hawk come in and make a try for one of our chickens.

Ron and I were playing cards while drinking our tea and coffee. The morning chores had been done a while. It was raining, so Ron said he was surprised when Boudica didn’t want to come inside. He said she looked like she meant to work this morning, so Bairre came in the house after chores but not Boudica. We were just about finished with a long game with our cards when Boudica started going off in a big way.

I didn’t run since it seemed like she was barking at the woods and we have good fences, but I did stop what I was doing and head outside. The stress of the situation hit me as soon as I got outside and heard everything. I couldn’t see the chickens at all, which was a big worry, and the birds in the trees were making very weird noises. It sounded like distress. That sound, coupled with Boudica, who was completely freaking out at this point because she was in a different fence and couldn’t get to the chickens, put me to work.

I ran toward the front, forested part of the chicken yard. I couldn’t see anything in the trees, but only a few people were in the coop. I figured everyone had to be in the woods.

When I got there, about half the flock came out running, some went to the raspberry bushes to hide, and others ran all the way to coop. I knew the situation must have been bad because they were all making terrified noises. Even Mary Jane, who was running by the way, was making the strangest noise I have ever heard her–or any chicken–make.

As I made my way into the trees, more chickens came out, and then I heard movement above my head. I saw a gray hawk fly out of a neighbor’s tree that is right above our chicken yard. It flew back toward my neighbor’s house. I am about 90 percent sure it was a Cooper’s hawk. It’s almost always a Cooper’s hawk in our woods.

Then, I started hunting. Ron came outside, and I filled him in. “Boudica is amazing!” he said.

“It’s the truth!” I replied.

I kept looking, and, eventually, Ron came to help. We both agreed that, surely, since I had seen the hawk, that it didn’t get anyone; still, I would feel better finding all of the littles. They are all nearly grown, but Tuesday, Wednesday, and Lenore, are still pretty small and could easily be carried off by a hawk. I will never hatch fall babies again. It’s warm enough now in Maine to do it, but they are pretty little still during hawk season. They have an extra risk.

I could find all of the littles except for Tuesday and Wednesday. Lenore and Annie were in the raspberry bushes, and Clara was in the coop. I found poor little Jacqueline out by herself by the front fence, trying to get into the coop the wrong way. She was completely panic stricken, so I reached down to just pick her up and carry her to the coop. When I did, she reacted violently. Her little head turned around, and she got me and my robe with her beak. She mainly got my robe, but it still hurt. She was just about to get me again, when I started talking sweet to her. She released her vice grip on my robe, and I felt her feet relax. That poor little baby had been traumatized. Because she was completely alone, she may have been a target, but I am not sure. I just know I have never seen a hen that traumatized.

I was still looking for Tuesday and Wednesday when I found Piatigorsky hiding so still in the bushes in the woods. She must have had a close call too. She was so still, I thought she was dead at first. I had to say her name three times before she moved. I reached in to pick her up, and she just buried her head into me. She is still the sweetest girl, and I am so glad she is okay. Next, I found Faure in a similar situation, but she didn’t want me to pick her up. I did have to walk her to Ron, who then walked her to the coop.

Ron and I continued to communicate as we gradually found people. Still, neither of us had found Tuesday and Wednesday. Ron told me to try to coop one more time and check the nest boxes. When I did, I found Wednesday. I was so happy to find her but then also a little more worried that there was no Tuesday. The chances of a hawk getting away with one baby in the time it took me to get out there was not zero.

Ron and I kept looking. We made our way back into the woods that we had already searched and searched when Tuesday came walking out of camouflage it seems. There she was, the cutest little thing I have ever seen–only aged a few years after that much stress. She stayed right with us as we walked her back to the coop.

“We had better go thank Boudica extra hard,” Ron said, and I agreed. We both made the biggest fuss over her, and she was so proud. I cannot express the depths of my gratitude to her in words, but I think she felt it. It is a gratitude I felt in my chest and in my bones this morning.

“She watches the skies,” Ron said. “It’s remarkable.”

I agreed.

It is humbling beyond all measure to be in the presence of such greatness. How lucky am I to have Boudica as my dear friend and partner on this homestead?

*It feels important that I add a quick note at the end of the story about Boudica and her magnificence. Boudica is a Great Pyrenees, a Livestock Guardian dog. She was not born knowing how to protect our flocks. She learned. It is a myth that you do not have to train LGDs. Great Pyrenees are the smartest dogs I have ever encountered. They have been bred for thousands of years to have strong critical thinking skills and to think for themselves without humans around. They learn so quickly, but they do have to be taught. Far too many Great Pyrenees are surrendered to shelters because people do not understand this.