Thanksgivin' Ya'll

Its definitely fall and most of the leaves are down now, which creates a few long days of work. The plan was to collect the leaves with the leaf vacuum and compost them for use in the garden to amend the soil, but it looks like we may end up with more leaves than soil. We have somewhere around two hundred and fifty trees on the property. Multiply that by ten million leaves per tree and there are enough zeros to make the leaf blower commit suicide. We know that the leaves have been here before but have no idea what the previous owners did with all of them. We searched the Internet for oak leaf recipes and found nothing even remotely appetizing, so they probably did not eat them. Even the chickens push the leaves aside to look underneath for food. We are diligently working on a plan to market them in some way and use the profits to subsidize our auction disorder.

Thanksgiving the neighbor turkey must have consulted with the Obama campaign folks and pulled an upset victory late in the week. Either that or he was purposely misnamed and we feel misled because we saw him early Friday morning strutting around the barnyard along with Christmas (the other turkey) Blue the peacock, the potbelly pig and chickens and cows. We don’t want to think that Brad and Mia were purposely deceptive so lets consider the possible reasons for the turkeys continued existence. Perhaps the neighbors have suddenly turned from carnivorous liver mush consumers into left wing ultra liberal tree hugging vegans and are plotting the demise of the entire pork, beef and chicken industries as we know them. Or maybe the turkey has learned the art of hypnosis and convinced everyone next door that he is actually a long lost relative and that he will be living with them for a period of time until he recovers from the current financial crisis. Could it be shape-shifting aliens in farm country? We may never know the truth but we will go with the story that Mia and Brad are really running a retirement home for farm animals and they will all live long happy lives.

Kaitlin and Nate and Chris visited the Great White North for the holiday weekend and saw family and old friends. They all reported having an enjoyable but hectic time and were relieved to make the trek home to their own homes and beds. Chris as usual had quite a few misadventures during the trip, mostly involving his refusal to use the GPS for navigational assistance, but after many miles he still managed to find his way back home again. On Saturday when they all left for home there was some snow on the ground in Cleveland while it was sixty-two degrees on the farm.



Christopher had the opportunity to share Thanksgiving dinner with his Aunt Jenny and family at the Keener farm in Wakeman, Ohio. He swapped farm tales and received farm animal rearing advice. Chris decided that he likes the Keeners goats Franklin and Claire better than ours because they are friendlier and will walk in the woods without a leash and behave. I think the truth is that he sees a lot of himself in our goat Laverne. They are both very idealistic and opinionated and choose to approach life in their own way. Neither of them is influenced by peer pressure at all when making decisions and consequences are just minor inconveniences that are the price you pay for proving a point.

While we missed our visit with the Schoenherr family due to their trading a virus back and forth for the last few weeks we did have Dan Kelley come and visit. Now that motorcycle-racing season is over Dan found time to get away from home and see how the farm half lives. While Dan seemed to enjoy the warmer weather I think he could do without roosters crowing in the morning and the special aroma that twenty-five three-week-old chickens seem to produce. While the chickens don't seem to mind the smell it is definitely not something you would want sprayed on you by an over zealous salesperson while trying to navigate the perfume counters at Macys in the mall. Dan is very good at observing the activity from a distance with a coffee cup in one hand. We did get to use up some of those pesky old bullets that have been lying around Dan’s house out on the rifle range (also doubles as the deck). Apparently the gun law enforcement in Rowan County, North Carolina is not as stringent as Avon Lake, Ohio. Gee, who would have known? And of course in Dan’s honor we had a two Nate fire in celebration.

All in all we had a quiet and relaxing Thanksgiving that reminded us once again of the magnitude of the blessings that God has granted us.

The leaves are mostly off of the trees here, with the exception of the pin oaks that will wait to lose the last of their leaves until the leaf blower is retired for the season, and the mood is becoming a little somber. The animals obviously have been meeting in the barn to discuss the dreaded upcoming event, Thanksgiving. At first we would have never guessed that the farm crew was intuitive enough to understand the issues involved with the holiday season, but now we are sure that they do. The neighbor's turkeys, oddly named Thanksgiving and Christmas, are campaigning for new holiday traditions and have chosen to break away from the livestock union and go it alone in their quest.

John Adams and the girls on the other hand are sure that their responsibilities here on the farm are less ominous and have opted to challenge the no animals in the hot tub rule. They have made themselves quite at home as "free rangers" and Gayle has been frustrated attempting to convince them not to hang out on the deck. They have been granted some latitude so far though, due to the fact that we are still negotiating an appropriate egg-laying contract. We have yet to see any egg production from the girls, but we are sure we will come to terms well before spring training.

The goat girls are doing well and have taken to playing a game called shadow. If you walk by the goat pen they follow you like a shadow in an attempt to endear themselves and convince you to let them out for a romp. They are very talkative and have something to add to any topic of conversation. They are still being temporarily housed in a plywood shelter with a hurricane roof (blue tarp). The big project lately has been to repair the electric fence that surrounds the pasture and woods so that the goats can have free run and do some lawn maintenance in the south forty. Fence maintenance is a repetitive and ongoing task for the farmer. Farmer Art says that all he does is grow grass and repair fence. The up side is that every time Ed accidentally grabs the electric fence it recharges his pacemaker battery.

The cats are also doing well and actually are enjoying watching the Thanksgiving politics on the farm unfold. The girls long ago realized that the type of people that are in the market for cat by the pound live far from here and even then the market for lumpy old outdoor cat is almost non-existent. They have a better chance of going down in a plane crash, so they are very comfortable sitting and watching all of the work and politics happen.

We have been working on the "official" end of farming as well and are now registered as "Crooked Gate Natural Farms" with the State of North Carolina, County of Rowan Register of Deeds. No, we did not have to go to Mount Pilot or Pixley to do this, but we did have to go to Salisbury, the county seat of Rowan County, and pay our fourteen dollars for the privilege of being tracked and taxed by Uncle Obama. We spent the better part of the last eight weeks mulling over names for the place, but settled on Crooked Gate after working on the fence. If you have ever hung a farm gate on a post in the middle of a field you know how hard it is to keep them straight and how fast they settle as soon as you walk away. With a name like Crooked Gate Farm we can say that all of the leaning gates are part of our marketing plan to avoid the scrutiny of the engineer types that notice that kind of thing.

We are looking forward to the Schoenherrs visiting from Ohio for Thanksgiving dinner and a weekend of farm frivolity and caloric overload. If nothing else we will all be a bit warmer and sunnier here in the South Ya'll.

Vet Visits, Oh Boy.

This week began with a battle of wills between us and the grown up chickens, specifically John Adams. Due to our good nature and desire to have the happiest chickens known to mankind we have been letting the Adams Family out in the chicken run regularly. It is a little early to trust them completely as free rangers yet and a chicken is a tasty treat for a hawk or stray dog, but we capitulated to the crowing and let them have some protected outdoor space. All was well on the farm so Ed and Nate sped off to Lowes for some supplies and testosterone-laden discussion. Upon their return Kaitlin and Gayle were running around like chickens with their you know what cut off trying to get Mr. Adams back in the pen. Talk about an opportunist. As soon as the boys left he decided to party like chickens do and sprinted laps around the chicken coop followed by the girls.

The exercise ended in a mild altercation between Ed and Mr. Adams, and lets just say Mr. Adams lost when he had to tap out and concede the wrestling match. Some chicken thinking and a few fence adjustments should correct the problem.

The new chicks are doing very well and growing so fast you can see them as they sprout new feathers. In a week they have quadrupled in size. We are especially proud of our “Rare and Exotic” freebie from the hatchery. He/She was included as a surprise with our order. Chris has identified it as a Japanese Phoenix variety, although we are unsure of its gender. There are over two hundred varieties of chickens in the United States. We have named our new friend Superchicken due to its dominance and exhibition of superior intelligence over the other babies. For fun and entertainment Ed will catch crickets and throw them into the brooder box with the twenty-five babies. Total mayhem ensues as all twenty-five race around the box like atoms in a molecule stealing the tasty treat from each other. It kind of resembles what would happen if a fifty-dollar bill blew across the floor at Kmart during a blue light special sale. Anyway, Superchicken is currently undefeated in cricket racing and has consumed the prize every time.

On Thursday we had quite a scare when Woody showed up with an injured right leg and couldn't walk. He wouldn't come for food or to go outside and winced in pain when we tried to look at his paw. We decided that it was his right front wrankle (wrist/ankle) that was bothering him and set out to determine the cause of his pain. When asked Woody wasn't clear about exactly what happened (typical of teenagers) so we had to reconstruct the incident by gathering evidence and piecing together a good timeline for the time period prior to his lameness. After thorough investigation and a rather costly visit to the vet we decided that Woody was lying on the couch and realized that Gayle was on her way upstairs to take a little nap. In his haste to join her he fell off the couch and landed wrong, injuring himself to the point that he is on bed rest and anti-inflammatories for two weeks.

Now, I realize that I do have a tendency to be cynical, but come on. This isn't a union shop. We don't work our staff too hard. Why would someone need to exaggerate an injury to get time off on bed rest? He could have worked to make it look like he was injured doing something heroic couldn't he? I guess the stress of moving from suburban prince to rural farm hand may have been too stressful. I'm sure a vacation request is on its way.

This week we are installing the most important modern farm implement that any farm could have and every farm should have, a hot tub. The hot tub is important on the farm. It keeps the farmer in the right frame of mind and actually moving after riding the tractor for too long or listening to the goats complain incessantly about EVERYTHING. There is bound to be some allegations of unfairness, since the hot tub club will be exclusive to people only, but we will cross that bridge when it comes. Besides, you can bet that if the farmer has an orthopedic issue and gets bed rest for two weeks that the goats and chickens will be filing a grievance in no time.

Now, how to duck proof a hot tub....?

Birth Announcement: It's a girl, and a girl, and a girl.......

 Persistence and/or obstinance have paid off on the old farm and we finally can count our chickens. (They’ve hatched). They arrived early Thursday at the now somewhat infamous Mount Ulla, North Carolina post office and our postal contact and chicken advisor Jennifer again called for us to pick up the new peepers. In our extensive poultry research we learned that the appropriate term for a group of chirping females of the chicken variety is “biddies”. Go figure. The upside of ordering day old chicks as opposed to eggs is that you can order all hens so you don't have to deal with rooster issues. The down side of ordering all hens is that it has significantly swayed the hormonal balance in the barnyard. All twenty-six arrived in good shape in a cardboard box. Apparently even the Postal Service has a heart for baby chicks and doesn’t run them through a piece of automated handling equipment that folds, spindles and mutilates very effectively. We now have twelve Barred Rock hens to add to our four “adult” hens living in the chicken coop as well as thirteen Buff Orpington hens and a free “mystery rare and exotic chick” of the breeder’s choice. Chris identified the loner as a Japanese Phoenix chick. The males (roosters) in Japan could have tail feathers up to twenty feet long. Chris is hoping it’s a rooster. Gayle wants to know who’s going to keep that tail clean.

The chicks are shipped as soon as they are hatched and have not eaten or had water yet. The first task is to teach the little orphans how to drink water. Since Chris has been drinking water for quite a while and Ed only drinks Dr. Pepper and rarely ever shares, it was Chris’s job to instruct the class. After a little effort and some issues with a couple of class clowns the babies decided that drinking was good and they would continue to practice. The marbles in the pie pan are to keep them from drowning. They are all living in a one-room brooder box with a heat lamp for the next four weeks until they grow adult feathers and can deal with cooler nights in the coop.

While the babies were napping we decided that the big birds had been in solitary confinement for long enough to learn where home is and that we could let them out in the chicken run for the first time. It was a popular decision among the flock and they were happy to scratch around in the dirt looking for something interesting to put in their mouths. After watching them and the goats for a while we decided that animals would not do most of the gross things that they do if they had opposable thumbs, but God must have created them without thumbs for our entertainment. Woody and Charlotte were very interested in the big chickens that are a bit taller and much more aggressive than they are. It is probably a good thing that the dogs don’t know they are dogs because the inevitable confrontation between John Adams and the pups ended in the dogs leaving rapidly and very insulted. I should have warned the dogs that not everyone likes to have their butt sniffed on a first meeting. Live and learn.

Farmer Art continues to heal and will be back to his old self in no time. The goat girls are doing well and were treated to a worming and a new salt lick this weekend. They weighed in at forty-five pounds each and are half way to becoming our first attempt at animal husbandry. There has been discussion of pigs and cows recently, but Gayle just plugs her ears and starts singing show tunes really loud when the topic comes up. Ed keeps reminding her that we need to have all of the animals that came in the Fisher Price farm because that is his earliest farming memory, although he recently found out that chickens don’t really have a square hole on their bottom so you can stick them on the fence post. Maybe that’s another “mystery rare and exotic chick”

Why Did Old MacDonald Sing?

It has been a busy, hectic week. We have been anxiously waiting for news regarding Farmer Art’s condition after his recent mule melee. The news is good and bad. Art returned home over the weekend after a week in the hospital. He has three broken ribs, a broken left collarbone and a looming date with a cardiac catheter lab. His head injuries have healed to the point that they are not critical. The problem with the collarbone and rib fractures is that they really cannot be immobilized, so every movement is extremely painful. Please continue to pray for Art.

We spoke to Art’s wife Brenda and asked if Art knew what happened. He has no memory of anything that occurred from the time he started messing with the mule until he was in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. I told Brenda to remind Art that he promised to give us his nicest tractor. It didn’t work. Apparently even after a head injury he would remember that.

Our new flock of four hens has not started laying eggs yet but we do expect them to any day. For motivation we purchased some brown ceramic eggs and placed them in the nesting boxes in the chicken coop. I think this might be the same theory as running the water when you are trying to potty train a toddler, but I’m not sure. As of tonight nothing from the girls, but old John Adams has been practicing his crowing…A LOT. We are very happy that we put thermo pane windows in the coop now because even with the coop all closed up and the windows in the house closed we can still here him. He’s like a concert pianist trying to perfect a concerto. He practices at least eight hours a day. I hope the hens find it endearing or he may be evicted from the commune. He is getting louder but we are concerned that he is spending too much time with the girls. His crow actually tails up at the end as if he’s asking a question or confused. We hope he is not confused about his responsibilities on the farm. A rooster that doesn’t rooster is soup.

Brad and Mia’s cows next door are growing fairly quickly. The plan is to raise them for the rodeo. They will be roped by cowboys a few dozen times and then sent back home. I’m not sure what the long term plans are for them. I think the way you train a roping calf is by sneaking up behind them and whispering “LOOK OUT” or something like that in their ears so that they become overly neurotic and easily spooked. (This works on little sisters also). Then you wave pictures of cowboys and large crowds of spectators in their face while playing loud hard rock music in eight-second intervals. By the time they get let out of the gate at the rodeo they are absolutely crazy and run around at full speed kicking and thrashing. I know this is how they do it because I read it on Wikipedia. We are planning on having a few beef cows in the back pasture in the future but they will be the thick, juicy kind of cows, not the crazy ones.

The Milwaukee goat girls, Laverne and Shirley, have not attempted an escape since their first outing and have become very friendly to all of us. They know how to get Chris to take them for a walk and tie them out where the grass is greener and when Gayle calls the dogs or the cat the girls always answer in unison. They hate to be left out of anything. We will take them on their first date when they reach eighty pounds or so and hopefully the birds and the bees will be working that day.

We are very appreciative of the warmer weather and the longer growing season and still cannot get used to the climatic disparities between Cleveland, Ohio and Mount Ulla, North Carolina. Only an eight hour drive but a world of weather difference. We look forward to our first and probably only snowy day sometime in February, but for now we will have to settle for days like these.