Tag: homesteading

Grumpy Duck

~ Crystal Sands ~ 2 Comments

I haven’t written about Luna or anything in a few days because I have been very busy with my new part-time job. My new job is being a duck servant to Luna all day every day.

Luna has not taken well to her life in the house, especially since she had to come back inside due to her bill injury after mostly healing from her leg injury. I think she thought she was home free, so coming back inside full time seemed to take a toll on her. I think she made sure it took a toll on me too. If you have never heard a female duck quack with all of her might, I assure you it’s quite loud. It hurts. And in our old house with wood floors, the quack echoes loudly. My son is very sensitive to sounds, and I am a bit as well, so I try to do what I can to avoid this loud quacking. I have been running and jumping and tending to a grumpy duck for several days now, and I am pretty worn.

My mornings start with having to carry buckets of her tub water out of house because Ron worries about putting a giant duck bath, which is a lot of water, into our septic system. So, every morning, one of us has to carry the water out of the house. It’s usually me because Ron is busy building a fire in the wood stove and when I am done with carrying water from Luna’s bath, Ron has to carry buckets of water out to the outside ducks for their daily water. They use about 40 gallons or so a day, more when the water freezes and we have to carry out more in the middle of the day. Have I mentioned that I will never have ducks again?

After I empty the tub, I put Luna and her nest into my son’s music room and shut the door to keep her safe from our two curious kitties, and then I head out to do the chicken chores. Thankfully, the chickens only require 5 gallons of water each morning, so I carry out 1 bucket to Ron’s 8.

After the chickens are all set, and that takes a good bit, I am back in the house on Luna duty. I scrub the tub and then start the water. I make tea and coffee while that water is running. Oh, and I feed the kitties. Then, I can go get Luna, who is usually quacking quite loudly to let me know she is dissatisfied and needs her morning time in the tub. I have to hold her like she’s flying because she feels better when she “flies” through the house (runner ducks cannot really fly but can certainly flap those wings), and then I bring her in for a soft landing in her tub. She loves the warm water and splashes around so much. That’s pretty much the only time of the day she’s happy.

While she’s doing that, I have to clean all of her dishes and her nest box. I take her old straw out to the duck area, so the outside ducks can use it to keep their feet warm. I get new straw and food and fresh water, and her little nest box is all ready to go for when she finishes tub time.

And that’s just the morning. While I am busy all day trying to work, grade papers, homeschool, cook, and whatever else it is that I do, I am up about every half hour meeting some demand from Luna. The cats are too close. The dogs are too close. She needs to poop (she is amazing and won’t poop in her nest box or on the floor unless she just has no choice). She wants to be with her people. She wants to walk around. She doesn’t like the curtains. The curtains moved. The broom is scary. The wrap for her foot looks like a snake. Snakes are super scary to ducks, I guess. She wants peas. She doesn’t like the red shirt I am wearing. I have to change shirts. She needs fresh water. She needs more tub time. And I don’t even know what else.

On top of this, Ron hurt his back terribly Monday night trying to chop up a downed tree near the chicken yard from the bad storm about a month ago, so in addition to waiting on a grumpy duck, I had to do farm chores by myself all day on Tuesday. I did all of the buckets of water going in and out by myself, and it was so, so hard–and then I got a flu shot–and then I went down, like down, down.

Thankfully, Ron’s back is better because I put my homemade CBD cream on it, and it fixed it! I was so grateful he was better and so grateful I didn’t have to do chores by myself today, especially since it snowed quite a bit. I was so worn this morning, I couldn’t even finish my part of the snow shoveling. Normally, Ron does our driveway because it is long and epic, our son does the back side of the house, and I do the chicken and duck areas. I just barely finished the chicken area this morning when Ron saw me and was like, “You have to go inside.” I would normally argue but not today. I just went inside. The warm fire in the wood stove Ron built was heaven. For a few minutes, I just sat there in front of the fire while Luna was in her tub.

And, in another “thankfully” today, things took a better turn with Luna. She wasn’t nearly so grumpy. The cats can get a little closer without causing alarms, and she is starting to like me now, like quite a bit. She lets me pet her. I tried to sit with her on the couch the other day, and she wouldn’t let me, but I might try it again. I think I’ve won her over.

She barely complained today and seems to like it that we got a new, bigger nest box for her. She seems to understand that I am trying so, so hard. Oh, and she started laying eggs from being in the light so much. It’s great for us but not good for her to be laying in January, so I am trying to make sure she spends more time in the dark. She laid her first egg on Monday, and I was so excited. Then, I realized I was a stupid human who had forgotten that she didn’t need so much light. So I am addressing that, but, truly, the eggs are lovely.

When the snow melts in the spring, we are going to try to slowly integrate her back into the flock using the tried and true method for reintegration where you keep them together for a while but separated by a fence, so no one can get hurt. If that doesn’t work, Luna will have to live in the house for the rest of her life, I suppose. Hopefully, it will get easier. It’s been a tough month or so with this duck. I think we are finally starting to become friends though–or else she just has Stockholm syndrome.

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.

A Little Bit About Tuesday

~ Crystal Sands ~ 1 Comment

This afternoon, I went outside to get my son who was walking our long driveway. He gets antsy during homeschool, so he takes mini walks between each subject. When I went to find him, I saw little Tuesday busying herself in the driveway while the rest of the flock looked out the screen door of the coop in envy. Everybody loves driveway time, but when I give the chickens too much driveway time, Ron complains about the driveway getting overwhelmed by chicken poop and asks me why he spent months building a 3/4 acre fence by hand. I just make a face that says, “well, we all appreciate it, but if you could fence the driveway, that would be great.”

So everyone gets just about two hours of driveway time per day. It’s pretty good, I think.

Of course, we have our exceptions to the rules. Ruby, Kate, and Juliet can have driveway time whenever they want because they have a hard time being with the flock. This also annoys Ron sometimes because it is a pain to get them somewhere safe if we have to leave in the evening, but we do the extra work because we understand Ruby, Kate, and Juliet. They need their space. Truly, on the really cold days, I cannot let them out of the coop until it reaches about 15 degrees, and it just breaks Juliet’s heart. She gets panicky and upset. Sometimes, I just want to bring that chicken into the house, but she might not like it here either. I think she just needs alone time, and Ruby and Kate are not far behind her in this department.

It makes sense then that Tuesday was out in the driveway alone this afternoon because she is Ruby’s baby. I don’t know how she is getting out, but this is the third or fourth time. She might be flying. Ruby can fly over the gate to get out, but she seems to prefer not to. It’s like she wants me to wait on her–and I do.

When I saw Tuesday, I started talking to her. My son overheard and said, in his teenager voice (he has different voices, and “teenager” is one of them), “That chicken is named Tuesday?”

“She is,” I said. “And another black chicken who was her hatch-mate is Wednesday.”

“Where’s Monday?” he asked.

“Nobody wants to be named Monday,” I answered.

He thought his seemed right.

Tuesday is starting to be more and more like her mama. I’m seeing her pull away from her hatch mates and go it alone more. Interestingly, Wednesday does this too. In fact, a few weeks ago, Wednesday spent the night outside by herself–all night long! Ron had put up the chickens that night, so I was a little grumpy. Thankfully, she was okay.

Anyway, Tuesday is very curious about me. She has that way of looking at me that is different–that I see in the super smart chickens. Thankfully, she seems to be more chill than her mama, so I am hopeful. She reminds me a little bit of Poe. That also makes me hopeful.

Last week, when Ron was complaining about the chickens who insist on hanging out in the driveway all day, I reminded him how he would feel if he were forced to spend his whole life with people, and he had to admit it was only right to let them have their way.

“Well, don’t breed any more chickens from that line,” he said.

“Yeah, I really shouldn’t,” I said, but then I added, “But I already did though. Tuesday is Ruby’s baby.”

He gave me a look of despair. I knew he must have wondered why I would do that when Ruby is so darn difficult. The truth is just that I don’t know for sure, but I think it’s because Ruby is also so darn charming. I think Tuesday might be extra charming.

I can’t wait to find out–to see who she becomes. Oh, and I can’t wait to find out what color of egg she lays! Ruby lays an lovely olive egg.

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.

A New Kind of Resolution: Making Small Homesteading Goals for the Year

~ Crystal Sands ~ 2 Comments

We are quite self-sufficient as homesteaders. We grow between 60 and 70 percent of the food we eat and have created a cycle of sustainability and regeneration on our property, but we didn’t get here over night. It has all been a process, and each year, I focus on adding a little more to what I can do. I used to have much bigger ambitions each year, but I learned pretty quickly that we needed to pace ourselves in order to keep from getting discouraged or overwhelmed. With this in mind, I like to think deeply about what we need and what a I love and make a few homesteading New Year’s resolutions each year.

As I have mentioned before, I am a bit of a planner. As such, I am a big New Year’s resolutions kind of person. Not everyone is, and I get that. Some people think they are ridiculous, and I get that too. Still, for me, someone who struggles to complete projects, especially when we can get so busy around here with outside work, homesteading, homeschooling, and more, New Year’s resolutions are helpful. They give me a focus and a deadline.

Last year, one of my biggest homesteading goals was to actually keep records of our eggs sales and consumption along with costs of feed and straw in order to see if there was in any way in world I might, someday, be able to expand our egg business and give it a go as a chicken farmer.

I didn’t get good news in my egg sales experiment and realized in April that, even in our best months, we could barely manage to break even selling eggs at $5.00 a dozen, so my farmer dream of selling eggs for a living was a myth busted in 2023. I can’t quit my day job, but I’m going to keep raising chickens. I am thankful they also use our food waste and supply our garden with fertilizer. Those chickens are our partners on this homestead, and I am thankful for each and every one of them.

On the positive side, in 2023, one of my resolutions was to finish a crochet blanket I started years ago, and I did it! I finished it on New Year’s Eve, just in time. We also had the goal to add more edible landscaping to our property. We added 4 peach trees, 3 grapevines, and 7 additional blueberry bushes. We have 3 raised beds of strawberries and had hoped to add another bed, but didn’t make it. I also learned how to can pears from our pear trees, and I think I may be most proud of that in terms of upping my homesteading game in 2023.

For 2024, I have a few homesteading goals that, I think, will keep us moving in a good direction while also being realistic given our schedules with work and being cello parents. It took me some time this year to think of what I wanted my goals to be and then talk about them with Ron, but I think I have a good list:

First, we need to add that additional strawberry bed if possible because out strawberries will be in their fourth season this year, and I know it won’t be long before we have to replant. We need a least one bed started now because I cannot go a summer without our delicious, organic strawberries.

Second, because our peach trees did marvelously in the chicken yard, we have decided to turn part of the chicken yard (they have about 3/4 of an acre fenced) into an orchard of sorts. We plan to add two more pear trees and then two more fruit trees of another kind, hopefully cherries. I plan to research this winter to see what kinds of cherries do well in Maine. We just decided this year that it doesn’t make sense not to have a yard full of fruit trees.

Our third goal for 2024 is to simplify the garden. Whether it’s a drought year or a flood year, the garden is epic in the summer. In 2023, I planted a small test plot using the Three Sisters Method, and it worked so well and just seems to take care of itself. Ron was greatly impressed and has been looking for a way to cut back on his work in the garden. With that in mind, we plan to plant a huge part of our garden plot using the Three Sisters Method in 2024.

Finally, my last resolution for the homestead is to research making our own organic chicken feed because, for the past year, our organic feed, no matter the brand we have tried, has been full of dust. It’s terribly wasteful and terribly expensive. I have no idea what we need to do, but that will definitely be another post–or series of posts.

Those New Year’s resolutions for the homestead make me hopeful. This coming year is not about growth very much but more about simplifying and finding ways to simply take more advantage of what we already have.

I also have a personal New Year’s resolution to finish some writing and get back to writing for Modern Farmer. I love that magazine. We’ll see how it goes.

In the meantime, what are you New Year’s resolutions for your farm or homestead?

photo credit: Skylar Zilka Unsplash

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.

The Opossum

~ Crystal Sands ~ 2 Comments

I feel that my struggle in finding a photo for this post speaks volumes about my struggles with the fact that an opossum has moved in under our back shed, the one by the woods and the giant oak tree that dropped approximately 1 million acorns this fall. Some of the photographs make the opossum look cute and sweet; others make the opossum look mean and scary. Of course, I deeply understand that this animal is just a complex creature like the rest of us–sometimes cute and cuddly, sometimes not so much.

I have been hearing more and more about opossums because their numbers are on the rise here in Maine, and according to the Bangor Daily News, are suddenly everywhere this fall. About a month ago, Ron said he heard a sort of crying from a creature under our shed while he was out working in the burn pile one night. The interesting thing is that the shed is in a fenced area. We have never had an animal come through the fence, so we were surprised that something had moved in. We worried about it for a bit but kept a close eye and never saw anything.

Then, it snowed, and the evidence was upon us. I discovered the little tracks and hoped at first they were tracks from a larger squirrel, maybe, but then I saw the pattern of walking–and I knew this was no squirrel. I didn’t know what, but I knew we had an issue.

I reported said issue to Ron, who thinks I overreact about any potential threat to our chickens. He said he thought it was the neighbor’s cat hunting for mice. I had my doubts because I thought there was evidence of digging in the snow. I tried to study the tracks, but they were a little messy, making it difficult to discern very much.

A few days later, in fresh snow, I found a good track. I took a picture and took it to Ron. He said he was just reading the article I linked above in the newspaper about opossums moving in. Goggling the tracks confirmed the suspicion. It looks like we have a neighbor named opossum.

Is this little neighbor friend or foe? It’s hard to say, but Ron and I are both believers in giving respect and space to wildlife when possible. Apparently, opossums are great to have around for keeping away rats and mice and are generally harmless, slow, peaceful creatures, despite their reputation that they can be aggressive. However, over the years, I have seen a few posts about opossums killing and eating chickens.

Once we confirmed our opossum, I started reading everything I could about interactions between chickens and opossums. The vast majority of the stories are that the opossums coexisted peacefully with the chickens and always kept their distance, but every now and then, there is a story of murder that raises concerns for sure.

As near as I can tell, if you just make sure the opossum does not get into your coop, you are fine. This makes me hopeful because we have a pretty secure coop, and the shed is at least a little distance from the coop. Still, I worry. What if it gets in?

We’ll see how it goes. Please send good opossum vibes our way. Oh, and if you have a story, please share it.

photo credit: Jennifer Uppendahl, Unsplash

A Fortnight of Music

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

Tonight, my son played in an orchestra concert. They played Beethoven’s 6th, and it was beautiful. Out of the last 14 days, this was night number 12 for being away from home for our son’s music activities. This has not been easy for me. I don’t like being away from the farm animals too much. We cannot leave Bairre and Boudica outside to guard while we are away from home, so the birds are all defenseless. I try not to worry, but I do.

I am so happy to report that, tonight, I am not only celebrating beautiful music in my life, but I am also celebrating the fact that everyone made it. The chickens are all tucked in, and the ducks have had their peas and been put to bed. By the way, Fernando is eating a few little bits of peas. He’s still shy, but he’s making progress.

I feel a kind of relief in my body that I almost can’t explain. I was so happy tonight when I said hello to the baby chickens and collected the eggs (we got 2, which is not bad for this time of year). I pet Rooster, who is actually doing pretty well. He doesn’t like to be pet, but every now and then, I just sneak in some pets.

I am also relieved for my son. He has worked very hard as a cellist the last two weeks. He works pretty hard at it most of the time, but he got his first job and had work on top of his normal work. He played in an orchestra pit for a musical, and the last show was last night. He has had many nights of long rehearsals, but it turned out to be a great experience for him–plus the musical was fantastic. I watched it three times and loved it every time. Then, tonight, the youth orchestra he is in played Beethoven. It’s a challenging piece for students, but most of the kiddos in this orchestra are pretty strong musicians. I am in awe of them. I am still taking cello lessons and have an even greater admiration for string players than I had before–and I already had a great admiration.

I am exhausted in a way I haven’t been in a long time. I told Ron I think even my cells feel tired. But I am grateful for the music and for these opportunities for our son. I am extra grateful that it all went well for him and that all of our ducks and chickens are okay.

Oh, and we definitely have an opossum living in the chicken yard! Opossums generally do not harm chickens, but they have done it. I’ll have to write about this tomorrow. It’s both a worry and quite fascinating at the same time.

photo credit: Lucas Alexander, Unsplash

Six Little Hens and the Perks of Barnyard Mixes

~ Crystal Sands ~ 2 Comments

I would not think it possible, but I am writing tonight with the best news! I became pretty sure after spending some time in close study last week, but I am sure now. Petty has raised six little hens. Every single one of the babies is a girl, it seems! I am going to have to write that again. Every single one is a girl! Can you believe it? It’s like a chicken miracle!

The last one that I thought, perhaps, was the only boy turned out to be a girl too. Her comb developed a little early, so it was bigger than the others for a while. She is also a big girl, so that made me think maybe boy. I mean, you can’t get six girls when you have six baby chicks, so I thought this was definitely my one boy. Still, I did wonder because I never saw boy behavior. I saw very little chest bumping and very little aggressiveness.

The best part (and I can’t believe there is anything better than getting six little hens) is that this little girl is from Pumpkin. I don’t know if you remember Pumpkin, but she is the one who disappeared one summer for several weeks and showed up squawking outside of our bedroom window in the middle of the night.

I love Pumpkin. She’s chill and sweet and curious, and when I was choosing eggs for Petty to hatch this year, I thought I might try a Pumpkin egg. She is getting close to five years old, and we do not have any babies from her. I thought it would be so great to get one.

When this baby was born, I couldn’t tell she was a Pumpkin baby because she looked all Welsummer. If you look at the picture above, there are two little Welsummer babies with the stripes on their backs. She is the lighter one. She looked just like Rooster, but now that she’s older, I can see she is from our Wyandotte line. Pumpkin is from the line.

Our Wyandottes were beautiful and were the first ones I ever bought after our original Rhode Island Reds, but they all passed away over time. Well, one poor girl was a victim in one of our two hawk attacks we have had over the years. Gosh, that was rough.

I found a picture of two of our Wyandottes when they were little, so you could see them. Ours were Red-Laced Blue Wyandottes, and they were so beautiful. I miss them so much looking at this picture. They were Hecate, Hecate’s Sister, and Little Miss. Little Miss was a mama hen one time, and she was a pretty terrible mama. She had just one baby, and she was a very, very bossy mama. That poor baby! We still have that baby, S’more, but she lays very low out there in the flock.

As you might imagine, I am over the moon to see the history of our flock right here in this beautiful new member. She is so beautiful and very unique. She is orange from the Welsummer in her (Pumpkin is very orange and only looks like a Wyandotte in her comb and body shape), but you can so clearly see the Wyandotte in this new baby’s feather design. I can’t even believe this good genetic luck. We have four birds from our Wyandotte line–Pumpkin, S’more, Phoenix, and Circe–and none of them have the beautiful lace design of the Wyandottes. But here this one is in all of her glory. She is like a breed of her own–an Orange-Laced Gray Wyandotte.

Thankfully, because she was raised by Petty, she already likes me a lot. I’m determined to make her love me. I named her Annie. Isn’t she magnificent? I love barnyard mixes.