We didn’t have much damage from the hurricane, and we are grateful. Unfortunately, my corn I grew in my three sisters garden was destroyed. This was a blow to my spirits because that garden was doing beautifully. I will have to write more about it soon, but I am trying to get my head and heart around the idea that it was all learning and all worth it. Plus, some of it was ready, so we will go through it tonight and see what is edible.
Still, as the crow flies, we are only 30 to 35 miles from Bar Harbor, so we are grateful for the fact that the trees and fences are still up!
We didn’t even lose electricity, which meant I could spend yesterday working and canning pears. They are so beautiful, and I am so proud of myself, as this was my first time to can pears. I have another round to go, and I froze two gallons as well. That’s a good year for pears.
We’re almost finished putting up food, and I’m ready for it. It’s so much work, and I will be glad for the rest when harvest is over because working, homeschooling, and harvesting makes for some really long days and nights during harvest. I tell my son this is real slow food, but it’s so good. It’s worth it. And how happy am I going to be eating a jar of these pears this winter?
I haven’t written much about Petty all week, but she is doing amazing. Her babies are just beautiful and kind of little stinkers, but Petty is so patient and loving with them.
The babies have started to run around all rowdy and act like they don’t need mama. They have even taken to going through the fence (they are tiny enough to fit) and hanging out and eating clover on the duck side of the fence. This worries me because our ducks have gotten a little grumpy as they have aged. They are sassy though, especially the little back chick. I think it must be a boy, but it’s too soon to tell for sure. Today, Juliet was out in the driveway, and I watched him run right up to her and stand in front of her, just looking up at her and checking her out. Juliet hasn’t been hanging out much since the babies hatched. Interestingly, Ruby kind of helps watch, we think.
Today, Ron said he had to run the little babies out of the duck area. I told him I had done it twice. I chased them out this evening before I collected eggs, and by the time I was finished collecting eggs, those babies were right back in there in the duck area with poor Petty fretting at the fence because she couldn’t get to her babies. That’s just like children, I swear.
Out of the six babies, I think we have two girls for sure, two boys I am mostly sure, and two I just don’t know about. I used to be able to tell more, but my tell-tale signs don’t work on Dvorak’s babies. So we will see. They are a treat though. Just a treat.
I am behind on everything, as I always seem to be this time of year. My teaching load increases; homeschooling starts; and it’s still harvest season. This morning, when I went out to take care of the chickens, I saw two pears had dropped from the trees. When I let the chickens out, they were on those pears so fast, which is interesting to me because they won’t eat apples.
Tomorrow, I have try to can those pears, as it’s the biggest bunch we’ve ever had, but I am a little nervous because we have never had enough pears to put up. I am worried about messing up and ruining the pears. Surely, I can do this.
That reminds me: My three sisters garden is doing amazing. After I planted it, I told my neighbor and her grandson about it. Her grandson, who works a lot with the Native tribes here in Maine said, “Oh, it’ll work. It’s been working for thousands of years.” The only thing I could think was that I would probably find a way to ruin it anyway. But I have not. So far, it looks like I’m definitely getting corn and beans, and if this warm September continues, I might get some long pie pumpkins. I am trying to work on feeling more confident. I swear, if I can grow delicious corn, that will surely be a boost.
I also found a great home for one of Ruby’s roosters this morning. He was the sweetest one, and he got to go the best home. It was the farmer who told me last week about how intelligent chickens are. It turns out that she was looking for a young rooster. What a lucky boy!
She drove about an hour to get him because she wanted to make sure he came from a good environment. This is critical if you are getting a chicken from someone else. You can’t know everything for sure, but you have to at least look at the environment they have been living in. It’s always risky to take in an outside chicken and introduce it to your flock. I was happy for her to come and see where our chickens live. It’s a very good chicken life. I did make sure I cleaned the coop this morning though, just to make an extra good impression.
It’s funny. It’s kind of like cleaning your house when company comes over, I guess. Our coop is not fancy at all, but it’s sturdy and safe–and it’s nice when it’s all freshly cleaned.
Anyway, tomorrow is pear canning day. Then, Monday, I have to make another round of sauce from the tomatoes and peppers. Somehow, I have to finish the online annual this week too, and we start homeschool on Monday. It’s a busy fall already.
The day after we process meat birds, there are always ghosts.
The emptiness is heavy, and we feel a mix of mourning and relief. The energy feels different for sure. One time, I was chatting with my Department Chair, and he asked a lot of questions about farming. I told him that one of the key things I have learned from farming is that humans have a lot of power and responsibility–maybe too much–when it comes to other creatures on this planet. We certainly don’t handle it well. I don’t know if I handle it well. I just keep trying my best all of the time and weighing decisions carefully, but I worry a lot about the way I handle my power and responsibility.
This is Yoshi in the center of the picture here. She is next to Jane, who is one of Mary Jane’s babies. Petty is the other. That’s Cora on the right, and I think that might be Vivaldi on the front left.
This morning, Ron and I got up very early to make sure the pardoned hen was doing okay in the coop with the rest of the flock. She was. Rooster liked her a lot, so she’s going to be great. Really, only one hen was mean to her. It was little Arwen, and I know that’s just because Arwen in the baby and the lowest in the pecking order. She has to make sure she doesn’t fall below the new girl.
Truly, we have the best flock. One of the perks of keeping your older hens long after they have stopped laying is that they have some wisdom and can help control the mood and culture of the flock. I am grateful to our old girls like Mary Jane, Emily, and Charlotte.
As Ron and I watched her, we talked. Ron said, “I don’t know if it was right to keep her just so we don’t feel so bad.”
But I told him that maybe it’s okay to do something to make ourselves feel a little better and that I truly thought she had a good chance of making it a few years. Even if it’s just a year or two, she gets to live in a little chicken paradise for that year or two. Ron agreed.
Interestingly, she’s a talker and has a cute little voice. It reminds me of a sound Yoshi from Mario Brothers makes, so I decided to name her Yoshi tonight. I had gone outside about dusk to make sure she figured out how to get back into the coop. She did, and I could hear her in there talking, making her little Yoshi sounds. I decided then her name had to be Yoshi.
Yoshi helps with the ghosts, but there were other ghosts this year. I wrote last night about how amazingly helpful our teenage son was yesterday. For years, he has not been interested in farming, but in the last few months, he’s been more interested. He has also asked to take a hunter’s safety course and go hunting. This surprised me a bit, but I also can see that he’s changing as he grows up and is trying to figure out who he is. I think he knows down deep, but I see him also working to conform to our standards (though we try to tell him he doesn’t have to) and to society’s standards (though we try to tell him he doesn’t have to).
Yesterday, our son seemed super human to me. I couldn’t believe the work he did and the way he handled it all. Today was different. Today, he was haunted by the ghosts, and the first ghosts are the worst. I wondered if he would be able to help us because he’s pretty sensitive, but yesterday, he was so determined and matter of fact. He was just sad today.
We spent a long time talking about grocery stores and how people don’t associate the meat in a store with an animal and why this is bad for animals and why we do what we do. It’s complex stuff for sure. We also did our best to listen.
He said he doesn’t think he will be able to go hunting, and we told him that was fine. It’s not for everyone, but I can see we live in a culture that is making our son feel that he has to do things like this in order to “be a man.” On this topic too, I do not know if I am handling it well, but I can say for sure that it is challenging to raise a young man in our culture.
We concluded that he would not have to help us again unless he was sure he wanted to. We can think about it again next year.
In the meantime, the ghosts were definitely present today.
*This post discusses processing chickens for food.
I was too full of anxiety to write yesterday. We processed our meat chickens today, and the night before is the worst. The worst.
Ron has to sharpen his tools. The grinding causes me more anxiety than I can express. These are long, emotionally-tough days. Thankfully, the day is over. Interestingly, for the first time, our teenage son helped us. He was shockingly competent and did way more work than I would have thought. He’s becoming a young man and is starting to really chip on the farm work, and he makes a big difference for us. Today, he made all the difference.
Because Ron also feels anxiety about the day, he decided he wanted to get it all done in one day. We usually take two days. Ron thought we could do it one day with our son’s help, but we thought it would be the longest day. We were up at dark, and I thought we might still be going at dark. Not the case. It was a 12 hour day. I was expecting maybe 15 hours. I can’t believe our kiddo was so helpful.
Ron, of course, always culled the chickens because his skill is good, and he has a lot of experience. We want no suffering. We researched for years trying to find the most human way to cull a chicken. I even talked to a neuroscientist. Only Ron can cull, but there is so much work to it all. Our son did some really, really hard work today, some that takes a bit of skill. I have no words for how thankful I am for our kiddo–and that today is over. I am also thankful to have all of this food for our family.
Interestingly, Ron agreed to let me keep one of the last hens. She was quick and smart, and I told Ron she looked fairly healthy. You can tell which ones have better genetics and might have a chance. Most of them can’t live very long. I should write about my experiences with that sometimes, as I have about 10 years of experience with it now.
She might have a Mary Jane-like chance. Even Vanilla is doing well. She is also a pardoned meat chicken who was small. She’s still just about regular sized as a chicken. Mary Jane is a big girl though. If those two can make it, it’s hopeful for her, though most of our pardoned meat chickens have only lived about three years. Of course, as Ron and I discussed, two to three years in our flock is way better her scheduled fate.
We finally got enough tomatoes to make our sauce. We live on this sauce for meals throughout the year, so we’ve been a little worried about the tomatoes. Thankfully, we had just enough today for our first batch. I think we will get enough for one more batch, and that will do us because we still have some left from last year when we had such a bumper crop of tomatoes.
Last year, we processed 125 pounds of tomatoes, had about 75 pounds for farm shares, and gave away 50 pounds. This year, I think we will be fortunate to get 50 pounds in total. Those horn worms came during a time when our son was at music camp, and we were swamped. Those little caterpillars did big damage. But it’s okay because we have just enough for sauce.
It’s a long day making the sauce because you have to pick all the veggies, wash and peel the tomatoes, make a puree out of the onions garlic and peppers, and then it all has to simmer for six hours. Oh, and you have to stir it every 15 minutes. I have just one round to go, and then it’s time to can. It will be a late night, and this is real slow food. It’s totally worth it though. Slow food always is, I think.
Also, the baby chicks are doing so great. They are just perfect!
This morning, I decided to go ahead and pull the last egg that had been under Petty. It wasn’t pipped even a little, so I figured it did not develop. Just because I am curious, I cracked the egg a little to check, and there had been no development for some time.
I was somehow missing an egg though. Petty had eight fertile eggs after I had candled them after the first week. I knew the first baby had died somehow, and, of course, we had the undeveloped egg. That should mean we had six babies, but I could only see five. I kept trying to peek without upsetting everyone but still could see just five babies. Then, I set out a new bowl of baby chick food, and Petty started calling out her babies. Then, I saw it! The sixth baby chick is a little black chicken, and I love her!
I am telling you I have never seen a cuter, eclectic mix of babies. I check on them like 20 times a day, and I am so grateful that Petty is so chill and lets me have pretty good access to the babies. Petty just seems to get me.
The best part is that this means out of ten eggs, we had seven babies make it all the way to the end. I’m sad we lost that first little chick, but I adore the six we have. This is very good news for our flock, as I was worried about our fertility rates when I let Ruby have a clutch this spring.
One of the toughest parts is that I made sure I was more hands off during the hatching, not peeking, just letting nature do its thing, which means I am not certain which babies came from which eggs. I know some but not all. After my experience this spring helping that baby hatch and then having it die a few days later, I swore I would not get involved. My heart couldn’t handle anything like that again. Now, I am not sure who is who.
I know that the little silver-gray chick came from Silver’s egg because I just happened to see that one right after it was born. I was able to grab the shell, and it was still wet. I also saw that Ruby’s egg hatched a dark chick but not the little black chick. This means Ruby’s baby is that gorgeous brown and black chick. I have never seen one so pretty. And I can already tell it’s super smart. It watches me with curiosity more the the others. And I know that one of the little striped chicks is Juliet’s egg, but I am not sure which one because they are almost identical. The other one is Cora’s egg. I will never know who that little yellow chick belongs to, but I am over the moon to get a little yellow chick after that tragedy last time. Anyway, I am just going to enjoy every day with these babies. Oh, and so far, Petty is an amazing mama. I hope she keeps it up.
The bad news from our little farm today is that the birds have eaten all of the elderberries. Like all of them.
We always share with the birds, and the birds share back. This year, however, our property has been a full on wild bird sanctuary. For real, we were driving home one afternoon with the windows down, and you could literally hear it when we got close to our property. There were that many birds chirping.
I love these birds, but I am sad they ate the elderberries. I spent the afternoon trying to see if collect enough to maybe make a half batch of syrup or jelly, but it was to no avail. I brought in a sad bowl, and Ron saw it. I told him the situation and said that I guess we just had so many more birds this year that there wasn’t enough.
He said, “Don’t even mess with those you have there. Just take them out to the birds.”
“What about the elderberry jelly?” I asked. “You love it.”
“I’d rather have the birds than jelly.”
I’m going to see if maybe a farmer’s market close might have some elderberries, but I am not hopeful. I don’t see them every often.
It’s all good though. We have lots and lots of birds.
I can’t tell if we have four or five babies so far, as there are little feet everywhere under Petty, but she’s doing a great job! I was able to get some pictures this morning, and I am so excited to have fall baby chicks. They are such spirit lifters, and I am extra excited because we, for sure, have two little Welsummer babies! Rooster is a Welsummer, and I guess, in his effort to keep up with Dvorak, he had done pretty well for a seven-year-old rooster.
The Welsummer babies are the ones with stripes on their backs. I think there are other breeds that have this, but it’s a classic Welsummer marking as well. I’m happy to get more Rooster babies.
Of course, Dvorak has done well too. Ruby’s egg has hatched, and Dvorak is definitely the daddy on that one. I also think we have a Silver egg that has hatched because we have a little silver baby running around under there.
Generally, we only hatch chicks in the summer because we want to make sure there is plenty of warmth for them to grow up, but we learned a few years ago that late summer hatches do work out and that there’s enough time in the early fall for the babies to get their feathers before it gets cold outside, even here in Maine.
I can’t wait to see what all we have. Oh, and Ron just came to get me to confirm there are five babies. He was taking Bairre for a walk and said he saw all five out and about. I am so proud of Petty! Oh, and here’s the best part. She’s pretty chill. She lets me touch the babies, just like Lucy and Broody Hen used to. How wonderful is that?
Do you remember when I wrote about the three owls that came the night before my three hens died? Well, they moved in.
They just stayed here. They hang out every night right next to our house. They are in my friend, the Maple tree, on our fence, in the trees along the driveway. It’s surreal and such a treat to get to see them so closely. I mean, what an opportunity to observe nature, right?
Our teenaged son goes for walks along our driveway at night while he listens to music, and he says there is one owl in almost the same spot every night. He says it watches him. My son’s favorite animal is the owl, and that’s saying something. He doesn’t overtly love nature the way Ron and I do. It’s cool that I can see it in there though. Anyway, this has been a treat for our son, and he has been able to capture some great footage of these birds watching him right back.
Of course, they are a little scary. Owls can do terrible things to ducks, and the ducks like to stay out late. I have to be so diligent in making sure the ducks are up as soon as it is dark. The owls are a worry for sure. In fact, I don’t think we are going to be able to go anywhere past dark without getting someone to put up the ducks, and since I don’t really know anyone who might do that for us, we are stuck thanks to our new neighbors.
But that’s okay. I’ll just have to be diligent. I love having these new neighbors. They are helping us avoid the situation like we had last year with rats in the coop. I am grateful. Plus, they are so beautiful.
Our teenage son is sick tonight, and it’s the first time he’s been sick since 2019. He’s not taking it well after all of those years feeling great, I suppose, and he’s so grumpy. It’s kind of funny to me, though I feel badly he feels badly. I just made him some hot tea with honey to help his sore throat, and I admired the tea and cup and towel for holding the hot cup and had to take a picture. It’s cozy. There is a slight chill in the air now, and I find myself looking forward to the cozy of fall.
The tea didn’t help unfortunately, but he asked for eggs. He asked if eggs might help. I told him, if he felt hungry for them, then surely. Plus, I reminded him that an egg makes a life. It’s pretty powerful. The eggs helped, he said, so that’s hopeful. I definitely hope I do not catch whatever he has.
I had to write tonight to share a Mary Jane story. She’s hanging in there and still getting around pretty well. She just moves as this slower pace that is a bit hard to describe. I mean, she has always moved a little more slowly, I think. She’s double the size of all of the other chickens. Still, in her old age, she is extra slow. Poor girl.
This afternoon, I was feeding some garden scraps to the chickens, and I had two sun gold tomatoes. Mary Jane adores these. They might be her favorite food. I gave her the first one, and she moved so slowly that it was stolen right out of her beak. So I broke the second one up a little and let her try again. She was still too slow, and the second tomato was stolen out of her beak as well. Those young hens are quick!
Mary Jane was so frustrated. She just started pecking heads of anyone who was in her general vicinity. I guess it wasn’t too hard, as no one cried, but they all got out of her way. The tomatoes were gone though. I felt badly for Mary Jane. I know how it feels to get older and slow down.
Of course, I could not let it end this way. I went into the house and got two more tomatoes from our dinner allotment. I cut them up into little pieces. As I made my way toward the chickens, I told Mary Jane to be ready, and she surely was. I put my hand down, and she gobbled those tomato pieces.
She’s such a great hen.
Oh, and that reminds me. Her daughter, Petty, is doing great as a broody hen. The babies should be hatching in about 5 days, maybe sooner, as they sometimes hatch a little early. It’s been really cool getting to know Petty. She’s very no-nonsense. It’s so opposite of Ruby. Though I love Ruby to the moon and back, it’s like a breath of fresh air working with Petty. I’ll have to write more about her soon. I hope she’s a good mama.
