Thursday, June 30, 2011

Front Yard Deer Park

While making the turkey tractor, we looked up and spotted some trespassers in our front yard:







THE END







Sunday, June 26, 2011

Turkey Tractor QC

Moonshadow, the wild turkey, has been living in a large dog kennel for 2 1/2 weeks. She has grown from a one-day old fluffy chick to a mature young turklet (short for turkey cutlet, I think) and even has a full set of little brown feathers. Her head is still very cute and fluffy with brindle fuzz on it (if you don't know what "brindle" is, see photos in previous posts of Lily). However, Mooner has grown two very scary feet: they are huge with pointy talons and a spur thing that juts backward. Scary! And our baby can even fly now too; once we put her in her new condo--called a turkey tractor, but no wheels yet--she tried to get airborn in there. Before she did that, Mr. H suggested that I do a little quality control (QC) inside the coop to make sure it would be just right for Mooner.

Yup, I thought that sounded a little fishy myself so thought it would be best to make it publicly known that my husband just built a cage big enough for me to fit in. Please check on me regularly, ok?


Yes, I do believe the door works.


Kids--it's just like at the zoo: do NOT put fingers near this cage!


Ok, Mr. H, there's only so many photos that can be taken of this...before it gets creepy.

I'm ready to come out now!


After Mr. H finally helped me out of our wheel-less turkey tractor, we excitedly brought Mooner in to her new pad: she was not as impressed as we are with it.

Mr. H tormenting another one of his ladies in a cage.
Mooner T. Turkey, age 2 1/2 weeks

Let me out! These people are crazy!

Nice job little bird! Mooner is actually in flight!

Tripling the Herd

We've been looking for a goat friend for Bea just in case the horses aren't enough entertainment for her. I have been searching for little Nigerian Dwarf goats, as my fascination with miniature animals runs deep. Full-sized goats, dogs, horses and cattle are cute, but shrink 'em down and you've got the makings for your very own personal petting zoo! Our neighbors have two great goats and wanted them to have a little more sunshine and socialization, so they walked the goats over yesterday--no leashes--down the road two houses and that is how Peaches and Chewy arrived. (I didn't name them).

These two goats are as friendly with humans as Beatrice is, which is very lucky. We lucked out with them and are grateful that our neighbors trust us to take care of their pets. Peaches and Beatrice will be bred in the fall so we will have babies at the same time from both ladies. I'm so excited!
Bea is head butting Chewy
Beatrice and Peaches (a black French Alpine) love to play.
I think they have been head butting and chasing each other
since the two goats arrived.

Chewy (James) and Beatrice. Chewy is a Nubian goat; you can tell
because of those big floppy ears. Bea is flirting pretty hard!




This is Bea's classic move. Look at this girl: totally airborn!


Peaches and Bea taking a break

Friday, June 24, 2011

Redneck Chariot

HAPPY BIRTHDAY FARMER RON! I can't believe this guy is my dad. He doesn't age as quickly as I do.

My dad's farmer smarts allowed him to engineer this redneck rickshaw that he made to start cart breaking his miniature horse, Jelly Bean. (Farmer Ron has grandkids and Amish friends that will both benefit from Jelly Bean. Don't think he would buy an animal that would just lounge around and eat his food. Kids: please take note. You will start earning your dog treats! Yeah, right.


Do you notice what this contraption is made out of? A plastic lawn chair, life-vest cushion and a log cart that my husband gave Farmer Ron--it had a wobbly wheel so it probably works better like this. Though reminiscent of my time spent in a real rickshaw in San Francisco, I was somehow not convinced that it wouldn't break and cause a massive head injury. Apparently, Farmer Ron wasn't phased by that notion and took his daughter out for a spin down the driveway to celebrate his birthday.

What else did he do to celebrate number 62? He took his ladies to an Amish Haystick Dinner: it's a fundraiser for the Amish. You donate whatever money you want to in a big plastic bucket, start at one end of a very long table, and around a dozen Amish girls pile ladle after ladle of food on the same plate: hence, the "haystack." Let me illustrate. I will now describe--in order, first down to last on top--the numerous layers of this easily two-pound plate: cracker crumbs, shredded potatoes, rice, hamburger, baked beans, diced tomatoes, diced green peppers, diced onions, cheese sauce, black olives, and finally crumbled nacho cheese flavored tortilla chips. Did anyone else get heartburn reading that? Ouch. What am I leaving out? I can't remember right now, but let me say that I didn't finish it all. I also had to try to eat black raspberry pie, homemade ice cream and some coffee.

That haystack was surprisingly delicious and it just reiterated the fact that most any combination is delicious together--and, it all ends up in the same place anyway.

I not only got all of that food for $10, but I got to observe dozens of Amish people--some Farmer Ron knows--and they are amazing. Their children are impeccably behaved so I didn't have to drug a single one. It is just interesting watching them interact with us --"Englishers" as we are called by them--and with each other. It was fascinating--a night of anthropology if you will. I am grateful for the experience. I'll have to elaborate on that later, but for now, cheers to you Farmer Ron. You'd better have 62 more birthdays as far as I'm concerned. I sure love you.


Saturday, June 18, 2011

Greenish Thumbs

The garden actually looks a bit like a garden thanks to Grandma Debbie and Mr. H. I can't really take much credit. However, I'm extremely proud of my tomato plants (my favorite) and can't wait to see what will actually bear fruit.

Mr. H gets excited at the thought of growing his own food but I remind him that it is a vegetable garden. He doesn't really eat vegetables and I also told him that Hot Pockets don't grow in a garden either so he's really up a creek.

These are black cherry tomatoes. I can't wait to see what they look like!
Mr. H's Melon Patch- a little water logged but we hope it will pull through
Onion proliferation

The rains have hit us so hard lately that had it not been for our straw and horse poop
compost, we might have had all of these plants wash out









Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Not Quite National Geographic

We have a rare, amazing glimpse at an insidious creature found napping in its natural habitat:



The Great North American Pygmy Red Wolf asleep in its own fleece blanket nest, which they and their packmates instinctually create. They take turns slumbering in these nests, but are known to share. Interestingly, a structure is not laid down in until one of these cute-- but dangerous-- animals has incessantly pawed at the nest and turned approximately 25 circles in it, to prepare the area. 


There are only around 100 miniature wolves of this species left, as they are completely recessive and the ears weigh their heads down, causing them to fall over which lends to being not only easy prey but clumsy, proving to be dangerous for numerous reasons.

Monday, June 13, 2011

Luau Loki

Someone dig a pit:

Loki won't let go of this ball. He doesn't like sharing
with his brothers.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

The Gardener

Grandma Debbie worked feverishly for days to construct some beautiful planters out of old reclaimed wood. "Reclaimed" in the sense that she was driving in town one day looking for garage sales, saw some people sitting in their garage on a Friday afternoon after work drinking beerd, and asked them if the pile of wood on the curb was for the taking. It was, and my mother will talk to anyone!

NOTE THE COLOR OF THE GERANIUMS





She placed two planters on my back porch and brought the heavy dirt over in a wheelbarrow. After planting and watering flowers, Grandma Debbie stood back and said to the dogs, "Don't even think about digging in there!"




Beowulf McBeagle (Wulf) apparently didn't get the memo; but, he didn't destroy any flowers--he only licked them.

NOTE THE COLOR OF THE PETAL HANGING OUT OF WULF'S MOUTH

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Moon Me

The Bluebird Hollow Domestic and Wildlife Rehabilitation Center sure is shaping up. I got home from work yesterday to find Mr. H and a baby wild turkey chick imprinting on each other. Apparently Moonshadow--that's the name Mr. H gave--was following so closely to the mower that it had to be turned off for fear he get sucked in there. Everywhere Mr. H went, Moonie followed. An hour later I found a one-day old turkey in a box on my freezer.

A very different vision of Wild Turkey than I had in my 20's.....

Mooner and his/her first apartment: we're in the process of upgrading.


Mr. H had already been researching online as to how to determine what kind of creature it was, how old it might be and how to care for it. Believe it or not, that's not an innate piece of information one automatically has. This was actually almost as difficult as figuring out how to feed and care for the goat and horses. Even though we had instructions regarding care for these animals, it still feels like you're floundering, worried that something will happen to them if you do the wrong thing. After all, they're not Chihuahuas; we've been able to successfully keep a whole sled dog team of those alive for ten years.

When in doubt, feed it dog food; it works for pretty much everything on our farm! Online sources say that in a pinch you can feed these little birds smashed up dog food because they need a lot of protein. Supposedly they need around 24% protein in their diet and we ended up with a chick starter feed of 18%: we'll still have to get creative with a mix. They like to eat hardboiled eggs too...cannibals (Moonshadow Lecter). But, before we ended up with what looks like Grape Nuts in a fifty-pound bag--did I mention the smallest bag of chick starter is fifty pounds--we gave Moonie lettuce and dog food.

Mooner didn't seem to eat or drink anything over the next two hours and all he would do is stand up and wobble. He wouldn't even lay down, but his eyes kept drooping. If it's possible to discern when a baby turkey is tired, this one looked exhausted. The distance alone that it would have traveled just to get to our backyard from wherever it left its mother was a huge distance for something just busting out of a shell. That's also how we could tell Moonshadow was between one and two days old: it still had its "hook" --egg tooth--on the top half of the beak. They use that pointy protrusion to escape from their egg and then they lose it after pecking around a bit.

By 9pm we were all ready for bed and Moonie looked like he was too, but the only way he would lay down and immediately fall asleep was to be in someone's hands.

Moonshadow imprinting on his/her father, Mr. H
Three hours later I wake up on the couch with a baby turkey in my hands, tucked into a blanket. That is a line from a story I thought I'd never have to tell! I figured Moonie had adequate rest to at least keep him alive overnight and I hoped that he would eat or drink while we slept.

Waking up the next morning I prayed I wouldn't come out to a roasted turkey: we had to use Mr. H's office lamp lying on a metal dog kennel door, resting on top of Moonie's box. Surprisingly, the Mooner was feisty and energetic, and had eaten all of the lettuce we left in the dining room section of his apartment. He'd also scratched through some of the dog food--a good sign. Turkey poults are supposed to be curious and that was in Moonie's best interest. We like to encourage our kids to try new foods even if they end up not liking them.

Well, I must go put Moonshadow of Bluebird Hollow down for a nap: he's been sitting in the "kangaroo pocket" of my sweatshirt and the Chihuahuas are very interested in the noises coming out of it.





THE END
(Mooner moons his first moon)


Tuesday, June 7, 2011

What Constitutes a "Farm Animal?"

Our neighbor had wandered over with Jake the Wonder Dog (Jake is the cutest Rottweiler/Retriever mix, and also Gunnar's best friend). While mowing his grass, the neighbor saw a tiny little fawn sneak into our horse pasture, past the electric fence. Once he got over here, we couldn't find the deer. Finally, he was spotted and Mr. H came inside and told me to get a camera. I snapped a few rushed photos of this creature before he got spooked and wandered off.

Bambi, right up against the barn

Miss Beatrice, are you my mommy?


Sunday, June 5, 2011

Baby Bird

Yesterday Mr. H found a fat little baby bird sitting by the woodpile, under the awning of the barn. This is the exact same location Gunnar and I just finished walking past not 30 minutes before. How this baby bird escaped Gunnar's appetizer plate, I'll never know.

The bird looked so sweet sitting there --not old enough to peck me to death--so I took a few candid photos of him. I have no idea what was going through his mind.




We came back to look at him after watering the garden, and our little fluffy friend was gone. Thankfully, we don't have any cats!


This morning Gunnar and I came back from our walk and Grandma Debbie was out on hers too. We all walked back together and what did we see, but our little baby bird again. I was glad my mom found the bird and not Gunnar, as he has met his baby bird quota for the month of June already. (He had an active May, so we spilled over into June).



I guided the white Husky sneakily around where the bird was sitting on the sidewalk right next to our house, and put him up in the barn, happily eating his breakfast--which was commercial dog food and not wild game...for once!

I finished a few quick barn chores and came back outside to go water the garden to find Grandma Debbie standing next to the baby bird:

Grandma Debbie (GD): "I don't want to leave the little bird until we can make sure nothing is going to attack it. I'll stay here until Bill wakes up."

Kimi: "Uh..ok. I'll go tell Mr. H you are waiting for him to come and do a little wildlife rescue and rehabilitation." (To myself: This lady is too much! But, adorable; she's really adorable).

I went and told Mr. H that his presence was requested outside due to a visitor at the Bluebird Hollow manor. He was feeding the Littles at the time and one more baby bird mouth I'm sure is what he was looking forward to.

Kimi: "Ok, mom, I told him. He'll be out in a minute."

GD: "The little bird looks hungry and thirsty."

(The baby bird is just sitting on the sidewalk looking at us, mouth closed, fluffy feathers down. I thought he looked rather chunky, but not hungry).

Kimi: "Mom, I'm gonna go water the garden."

GD: "Okay, I will stand here with the bird. I need to get a worm for him...and chop it up a little bit for him."

Yes, at this point I did roll my eyes. My mother just told me she was going to make worm baby food for a young bird. Wow. I all of a sudden understand why I want to have a farm(Farmer Ron) , but I don't want to kill any of the animals for food production (Grandma Debbie). Talk about wading into the genetic pool...or in this case, the genetic "bird bath!"

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Farmers Market "Mews-ings"

I can't put my finger on it....



...but is there something on this coffee table that isn't typically found there?



...umm...maybe something near the cream and sugar? I'm just saying....