tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555561306172949112024-03-05T23:58:39.045-08:00PawleyFarm SeasonsWelcome to the seasons of PawleyFarm. Travel with us on this journey documenting the ebb and flow of the cycles of country life. Share with us the in the joys and sorrows, but always experiencing the soul-centering rythm the changes of the seasons and circle of life bring. So brew a cup of tea, sit down, and enjoy. We are so happy to have you drop by!Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-80136235415603112902012-07-20T15:45:00.000-07:002012-07-20T17:39:20.627-07:00Goatee, You Will Be Missed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7xSCNiKuvhJV6r6qZiZlrK3fyA4ggUPuBajvavz5yRnUxzBZmhTX1QJ_rDabh_8LeDT1iHXa08PIEP6b6z8R4Ytd2I58aJgl-HJVtTjUz5NokyPxdHd4jBPQSgvxeFe_vxJpWASa95YZ/s1600/P1070487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7xSCNiKuvhJV6r6qZiZlrK3fyA4ggUPuBajvavz5yRnUxzBZmhTX1QJ_rDabh_8LeDT1iHXa08PIEP6b6z8R4Ytd2I58aJgl-HJVtTjUz5NokyPxdHd4jBPQSgvxeFe_vxJpWASa95YZ/s320/P1070487.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Yet another sad day has come. Goatee, my 6-year-old Nigerian Dwarf pet goat was found dead yesterday afternoon. The kids had gone to play with him again and take him for a walk, one of their favorite activities. Earlier yesterday morning, they had taken him out on his leash to let him savor weeds and tasty treats outside the barnlot. The very same varieties that grow within the barnlot, yet he seemed to relish the ones outside the fence so much more. He adored attention and loved for the kids to pet and play with him. For years now, Goatee has been a companion when I took walks around the farm. In the cool weather, he would be quite frisky, standing on his hind legs and raising his back hair, then bouncing away and back to me when he wanted to play. He would stand up tall and make a growling sound in his throat, with a silly goat grin on his face, but never once did he ever butt me. Instead, pushing his head gently into my leg or hand to indicate he wanted me to push him and play.<br />
Alas, he was not so gentle with the dogs or sheep and I believe this was his undoing. From the evidence found at the scene, it would appear he may have picked a fight with his barn companion, a large ewe by the name of Belle. Many times I had seen Goatee challenging Belle and warned him that was not a good idea. I did not foresee that she may finally have enough of his shenanigans and cause him serious harm, as she always regarded him with irritated patience. It seems she must have finally butted him back, in the side, ramming him up against one of the timbers in the barn where he fell and lay still. <br />
We will miss you, Goatee. I will miss your happy, mischievous spirit. I will miss your bleats asking to be let out as you peer through the bars of the barnlot gate watching me work in the yard. I will even miss you escaping from your pen and trotting directly over to the yard, nosing up the gate latch in order to come in and much roses, especially the prettiest and freshest blooms. We will miss your little goat nibbles and gently taking treats from small hands. We were blessed to know you and hope you are now kicking up your heels and dancing in deep clover and fresh rose petals.<br />
Until next time, may we all live so that we are missed after we are gone.Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-25359078849172166142012-01-02T22:46:00.000-08:002012-01-02T22:46:16.893-08:00A Season of Sadness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPp4qpPi5S4Cb1pcYvQA2k_HcLINtayI9qru7pZJxrJ1i0btawsg8WADWpskhRUhiOSV70H_1SXrlHDIw8jMp82B-rc5gM5Zv0qHdi0USyKJXyPDnjFNDgonL7hGIpWso8P6_djRy8KIV3/s1600/BlackBerry+1295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPp4qpPi5S4Cb1pcYvQA2k_HcLINtayI9qru7pZJxrJ1i0btawsg8WADWpskhRUhiOSV70H_1SXrlHDIw8jMp82B-rc5gM5Zv0qHdi0USyKJXyPDnjFNDgonL7hGIpWso8P6_djRy8KIV3/s320/BlackBerry+1295.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div>Now that the holidays are behind us, I must report a sad event. We had to have Jordan's beloved Great Pyrenees,Chuck, put to sleep on November 30th as he had become increasingly aggressive.. About a year ago, he turned on the sheep and killed three last fall. After much research, discussion, and soul-searching it was decided that he would become Jordan's companion instead of a livestock guard dog. He adapted very well to living inside Jordan's house on the Ione farm and was an excellent companion, riding in the pickup and accompanying Jordan on trips, whether they were just out doing farm work, taking their daily run, or visiting friends out of town. His role as Jordan's constant companion was further cemented when, shortly after becoming a house dog, a fire began in the wiring of the old farmhouse they were living in. Chuck jumped on Jordan's bed, barking an alarm and waking Jordan in time to put the fire out before much damage was done. Even though we could no longer trust him around livestock, he was such a joyful dog, and was wonderful around cats, chickens, and kids. It seemed Chuck had found a different niche than what we had intended for him, as he had saved Jordan's life and had so many other valuable qualities. He also dearly loved his chickens and protected them from predators such as raccoons and opossums, or other dogs.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7yFrRn_Ty9rQinMeJPEsYN9EqaZ1OejGLnMcslLvte4f6f66xxCwQ_N_nyQ7fH2a1vEw9oC5ZCjNQoUrbZyHDtMP8IAmdCH4xbQWFegF_83QYx2oB5xmqFRfC3flKW2OCyHORe_W4sX-4/s1600/P1110137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7yFrRn_Ty9rQinMeJPEsYN9EqaZ1OejGLnMcslLvte4f6f66xxCwQ_N_nyQ7fH2a1vEw9oC5ZCjNQoUrbZyHDtMP8IAmdCH4xbQWFegF_83QYx2oB5xmqFRfC3flKW2OCyHORe_W4sX-4/s320/P1110137.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>Unfortunately, this fall, as the weather began to cool, Chuck became harder to manage, even chasing cats, who he had always done so well with. He also began growling at us if we disciplined him in any way. Jordan had done extensive submission training with him to make sure he never became aggressive toward people, but something was wrong. This aggressive behavior culminated one night as Chuck had accidentally gotten out and killed sheep once again. We caught him in the act and he ended up turning on Jordan and biting him, breaking skin and severely bruising Jordan's forearms even through a heavy coat. After consulting with the vet, the heart-wrenching decision was made to have Chuck put down. It is hard to have an old or injured pet put down, but a physically healthy dog in the prime of his life who has been such a protector and companion is an entirely different thing. But he could no longer be trusted and he was too powerful and adept at killing. If he was willing to hurt Jordan, what might he be capable of with someone he had no bond with?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdSoYHnyFE2sbWwGRwzjKFFKk-GLhw-oLxaqyWNXVxmuT5gU0vIRSQY17tFH3UOknpHzP0yrMO0RoVLEn9egPxLsjQlf7Vq1cZyoLpf1fXxsLHLm-tREL6URkUYGwFXNlawJoqBvC3DsUh/s1600/Chuck+on+Jordan%2527s+lap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdSoYHnyFE2sbWwGRwzjKFFKk-GLhw-oLxaqyWNXVxmuT5gU0vIRSQY17tFH3UOknpHzP0yrMO0RoVLEn9egPxLsjQlf7Vq1cZyoLpf1fXxsLHLm-tREL6URkUYGwFXNlawJoqBvC3DsUh/s1600/Chuck+on+Jordan%2527s+lap.jpg" /></a></div>I believe strongly that a cherished family pet deserves to have their family with them when they die, so Jordan and I stayed with Chuck as the vet administered the medication. As Jordan stroked his head and ears, his eyes locked trustingly on mine until they closed and he lay down with a gentle sigh. As the tears flowed freely in that exam room, I only hoped he could forgive us all for what had to be done.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGREQdTcz0DGktp7Er-4Qm4vKjBePjSJl0P-UYB7aVLhbySyZ_D8Z4wyarG53pg7R0EA1gO9Pu3Ipbd_Txry48YL0CDtAD2wFXi6oLu4BBc9X-MCBRZJqwRZw0zfKQpI6fmIn2wLo1F2wY/s1600/Picture+200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGREQdTcz0DGktp7Er-4Qm4vKjBePjSJl0P-UYB7aVLhbySyZ_D8Z4wyarG53pg7R0EA1gO9Pu3Ipbd_Txry48YL0CDtAD2wFXi6oLu4BBc9X-MCBRZJqwRZw0zfKQpI6fmIn2wLo1F2wY/s320/Picture+200.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div>We took him home on a beautiful Wednesday afternoon and buried him next to his old friend, Roxy, on the hill overlooking the house and barn. It was a warm and sunny afternoon, so mild for the last day of November. Suddenly, a red and black butterfly appeared, fluttered around my head, landing for a brief second, then flying to Jordan where it also circled him several times before disappearing into the sunlight. Through the tears, the healing and forgiveness had begun.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNDWixA0BoWvjiS4v9UrAWM2E4Nm-N_dCErqOKdyfZiJkxt2uzRe6PkQhRGG-Y8jR23n_iT1qke27Gt0Zm-1ooUjD1yD9lJTdv9KxPgiRUWVYPEYqwsjUCPvNWFL7YHhpT57t99EdGCyUC/s1600/Jordan+and+Chuck+in+the+woods.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237px" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNDWixA0BoWvjiS4v9UrAWM2E4Nm-N_dCErqOKdyfZiJkxt2uzRe6PkQhRGG-Y8jR23n_iT1qke27Gt0Zm-1ooUjD1yD9lJTdv9KxPgiRUWVYPEYqwsjUCPvNWFL7YHhpT57t99EdGCyUC/s320/Jordan+and+Chuck+in+the+woods.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-78405868382553882252011-11-25T22:07:00.000-08:002011-11-25T22:07:53.436-08:00Chicken Barn Progress<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgoJa2588RnTbJANg6IrbVMcGSmQ0Y0kAhRR1MGQ8d4_09xx1H__olJrC68-maiIwoCh-cCWGucxR1AvhN-vD3F_4B1aJ6aXTVvgfUVTlMptA4qsG4C5w_ENQ_O0kpN6ezedbGdHrQ32Zy/s1600/P1110156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgoJa2588RnTbJANg6IrbVMcGSmQ0Y0kAhRR1MGQ8d4_09xx1H__olJrC68-maiIwoCh-cCWGucxR1AvhN-vD3F_4B1aJ6aXTVvgfUVTlMptA4qsG4C5w_ENQ_O0kpN6ezedbGdHrQ32Zy/s320/P1110156.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>The chickens are enjoying the lights Jordan installed in the chicken barn. The extra light during these short days will help to keep the eggs coming and the heat lamps supply a bit of extra warmth during the chilly nights. We also have one permanent roost up and will soon be putting up more to eliminate those beautiful Tidy Cats buckets!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfEHd_lsd5hYFT_RKyLCiA1gApQ1XoEYFc205X-7Gc-hYrG8km7MuWTObKTSKsvmrVM2peV_DrZENMfMDBkUZ0wKvqxOPZuvdoWzLm22xEvM8ThfPXiame2R9Xz5IAKg8r2xGkpLC2nUIG/s1600/P1110122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfEHd_lsd5hYFT_RKyLCiA1gApQ1XoEYFc205X-7Gc-hYrG8km7MuWTObKTSKsvmrVM2peV_DrZENMfMDBkUZ0wKvqxOPZuvdoWzLm22xEvM8ThfPXiame2R9Xz5IAKg8r2xGkpLC2nUIG/s320/P1110122.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>The hens have been making good use of the nest boxes.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNpQcXTa__G_UaddmS96jAiu0vcy01Yo7hy4KtYQEEEr8tNOsc3BYQsTczRlfRRfTcJC-lwkXYz5PCSvCh3WxD-G14YBu2n-G0irDAgbZ8J1MJlkTYG48t5c0DnQlzFyI7BmMzNhNr9jN5/s1600/P1110252.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNpQcXTa__G_UaddmS96jAiu0vcy01Yo7hy4KtYQEEEr8tNOsc3BYQsTczRlfRRfTcJC-lwkXYz5PCSvCh3WxD-G14YBu2n-G0irDAgbZ8J1MJlkTYG48t5c0DnQlzFyI7BmMzNhNr9jN5/s320/P1110252.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>And filling up the egg buckets.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51Ftab2-WKUSzkGezJ1LPaZertnriE3izdk7qStbNAKuV_3bhV6XsfdCuJNmhfKceS4WesBWBVs0DFrtwalBz9rVHW9GK_sf92P3Qi3D1maOM94JnMn07_GmCIHHcIzO_3fl-zkWwv-Oc/s1600/P1110075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51Ftab2-WKUSzkGezJ1LPaZertnriE3izdk7qStbNAKuV_3bhV6XsfdCuJNmhfKceS4WesBWBVs0DFrtwalBz9rVHW9GK_sf92P3Qi3D1maOM94JnMn07_GmCIHHcIzO_3fl-zkWwv-Oc/s320/P1110075.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Jordan also installed lights in the small chicken house behind the barn. And just in time for this Buff Orpington hen to move in with her two new babies. Silly hen to hatch little ones this late in the year!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6BhnytCgnpo81XeshespSDyrDzZvd00Nb5lfjGBjXfIUdw1iMoefYrse2MB2r9mVTT0DdvgZl4a8R6bv1QMoPqI9bnqoQ3wGU5gYg7oU2nc0x6pONQA5kodVKR1liLnkDjuYpsy5gjK6/s1600/P1110162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6BhnytCgnpo81XeshespSDyrDzZvd00Nb5lfjGBjXfIUdw1iMoefYrse2MB2r9mVTT0DdvgZl4a8R6bv1QMoPqI9bnqoQ3wGU5gYg7oU2nc0x6pONQA5kodVKR1liLnkDjuYpsy5gjK6/s320/P1110162.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>This Japanese banty chick who was hatched in September hunkers down in the tall grass to get out of the wind.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibkD0ThpLLOjc3spWJqNWIsPrEYLpGEN4qNS2hvaj30FXapqA0GcYzYXrkKFWAZGtZboiq7BKH_OzA4iWiy_2nylN-AYyFiviu7JFiBW5d6WDxB6j3IoK8rOUdCxJ-mjkdYt6uHkh06pYG/s1600/P1110132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibkD0ThpLLOjc3spWJqNWIsPrEYLpGEN4qNS2hvaj30FXapqA0GcYzYXrkKFWAZGtZboiq7BKH_OzA4iWiy_2nylN-AYyFiviu7JFiBW5d6WDxB6j3IoK8rOUdCxJ-mjkdYt6uHkh06pYG/s320/P1110132.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This handsome little rooster is one who a little black banty hen hatched back in June.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRczspoO2_S7-thy3YmMFPBIZA9aAZhEOGu1b2lAlhYkxfCPDzmWUVxNJ-ectQDyJbQUbkgTnVPBtXnk6hJpyh6PfAmdjbhhl79dK8FcjQRHqyIb_yPcm7SL0J5AkgUFBx0WlgN7c64miq/s1600/P1110096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRczspoO2_S7-thy3YmMFPBIZA9aAZhEOGu1b2lAlhYkxfCPDzmWUVxNJ-ectQDyJbQUbkgTnVPBtXnk6hJpyh6PfAmdjbhhl79dK8FcjQRHqyIb_yPcm7SL0J5AkgUFBx0WlgN7c64miq/s320/P1110096.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>The rosecomb on this Silver-Spangled Hamburg rooster is quite interesting. He seems to be very proud of it and enjoyed posing for the camera.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQYR30LYvxIOdpLXvobOpYr9VEqCf_PqBQlr6fckrZuYnKVm0YZCdg67cc1WfJQC0Ec66glWANEtCftvcYGqA7PKKL9i9bYRLeQE6mv56bpD9FBkCW3IxsPoDYBXB9ikwkt9vOrwYG73n/s1600/P1110191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQYR30LYvxIOdpLXvobOpYr9VEqCf_PqBQlr6fckrZuYnKVm0YZCdg67cc1WfJQC0Ec66glWANEtCftvcYGqA7PKKL9i9bYRLeQE6mv56bpD9FBkCW3IxsPoDYBXB9ikwkt9vOrwYG73n/s320/P1110191.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>This rosecomb Brown Leghorn seems to be yelling out a message to the world. I'm not sure if it is a message of pride of alarm, though!<br />
Until next time, may your messages of pride not be confused with alarms!<br />
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</div>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-43754039410927845462011-09-25T21:40:00.000-07:002011-09-25T21:42:03.682-07:00Another Outlaw Taken Out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzjAk0ysh7DWDtHtyB8yn1ojuU3IdLy5hNFUWwFjlNL0N8WDtMol-81gpM-SyfJJrZU_cEjfSfSpJ0ciu-DAR4IMj_khBVZ9H0NwGKxxf0D86vgWJz8XoDs7YawbidH4j-j6TehP4tWXC/s1600/P1100811.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzjAk0ysh7DWDtHtyB8yn1ojuU3IdLy5hNFUWwFjlNL0N8WDtMol-81gpM-SyfJJrZU_cEjfSfSpJ0ciu-DAR4IMj_khBVZ9H0NwGKxxf0D86vgWJz8XoDs7YawbidH4j-j6TehP4tWXC/s320/P1100811.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>Last night a good-sized raccoon attempted to help himself to chicken dinner, but the dogs are quite protective of their chickens and made short work of the thief. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb4s20ISP939GVe0YCk-Yhr_Zc4KLORiYS5_ivAuUdR5p_ke0StQxLXUo_bJ6HNd9gc6Y807xjodvrvraxtYbT1FPzpkxjfa60-inBZYGgf3Bm6GFvDSlKECJ6tc-0uFpylVR9fPdwCPXY/s1600/P1100741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb4s20ISP939GVe0YCk-Yhr_Zc4KLORiYS5_ivAuUdR5p_ke0StQxLXUo_bJ6HNd9gc6Y807xjodvrvraxtYbT1FPzpkxjfa60-inBZYGgf3Bm6GFvDSlKECJ6tc-0uFpylVR9fPdwCPXY/s320/P1100741.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>Ranger naps while the chickens scratch for bugs around him.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvqZBAZ4kzy8YUbRnkOsZ1bIGEUgIw-S77Y1GQrN3UF31jxf-8l4GFecT6Wx0lEHVFo1ahX7kfsAnMZST6rJOmXuW3bQx5QmZJLc-GtffVpCoCDtqwa-0EH5_69-nw4-WgJBWQzTNh4AVv/s1600/P1100614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvqZBAZ4kzy8YUbRnkOsZ1bIGEUgIw-S77Y1GQrN3UF31jxf-8l4GFecT6Wx0lEHVFo1ahX7kfsAnMZST6rJOmXuW3bQx5QmZJLc-GtffVpCoCDtqwa-0EH5_69-nw4-WgJBWQzTNh4AVv/s320/P1100614.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>Chuck stays alert while Big Red and a Barred Rock pullet forage.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuuSOLN_M-qCOapu7eyTBoCDjJf66pglfgNh1JWLjPUkBFQhndiRioaUzCI3i2DbIQfSxOUyvSiXLPmisWQ_wcTW0IqdP_XiBhivBaOCqV-09__fPncsijRnAkJfHlohNv0bvDzKaZaIqI/s1600/P1100827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuuSOLN_M-qCOapu7eyTBoCDjJf66pglfgNh1JWLjPUkBFQhndiRioaUzCI3i2DbIQfSxOUyvSiXLPmisWQ_wcTW0IqdP_XiBhivBaOCqV-09__fPncsijRnAkJfHlohNv0bvDzKaZaIqI/s320/P1100827.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>And Cordell stays on guard to make sure the raccoon doesn't cause any more trouble.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWMfRZtNcNAaefwChzQu-BaKSKoNgQOel3Hquk58PCdWfwrxqw814O6oxiV6VK0_3Gb4RlLnsn8VGpGPUPpLIJBTSPBWC1zOyPpmLhOre59ad-QC4LRHpqRsj2nixo4tPAhs5jTh3nXsR/s1600/P1100648.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWMfRZtNcNAaefwChzQu-BaKSKoNgQOel3Hquk58PCdWfwrxqw814O6oxiV6VK0_3Gb4RlLnsn8VGpGPUPpLIJBTSPBWC1zOyPpmLhOre59ad-QC4LRHpqRsj2nixo4tPAhs5jTh3nXsR/s320/P1100648.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>The raccoon did manage to take a bite out of one of the Speckled Sussex pullets and she was bleeding a bit from the leg and thigh area last night after the attack, but appears to be okay today. <br />
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Until next time, may the outlaws in your life be served with the justice they deserve.Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-79550313972569524522011-09-04T21:04:00.000-07:002011-09-04T21:08:16.992-07:00Webbed feet in the Wheat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Sx2qF9J3F54kPHLJGP9yR0rGbH2vmQirqmC3SiY72gC11DTuSy4HEBNr6taDTkWWxB8-LY77Zx7DICCCqv897ThwI_0q4r6Am27eK8F3wxxSOp1SZrlfIpz2cQbN0dsJZ21e5ieYcepd/s1600/P1100422.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Sx2qF9J3F54kPHLJGP9yR0rGbH2vmQirqmC3SiY72gC11DTuSy4HEBNr6taDTkWWxB8-LY77Zx7DICCCqv897ThwI_0q4r6Am27eK8F3wxxSOp1SZrlfIpz2cQbN0dsJZ21e5ieYcepd/s320/P1100422.JPG" width="320px" xaa="true" /></a></div>The irrigation risers into the wheat field were open this afternoon, making a very pleasant temporary wetland for geese and ducks.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtdM9pKvttCjBLGABZR-VziEeT9II5roPhvpVvqsmhpiQ8ZXGI5rR0j8sjev_mAy7cPDbok-wfLBLD6tjAXRWGrD-sLdZiR9oY1c4QT9x9d8DsPut2xAgudPxHzTkKmvy8pQQVhtAJm4p0/s1600/P1100427.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtdM9pKvttCjBLGABZR-VziEeT9II5roPhvpVvqsmhpiQ8ZXGI5rR0j8sjev_mAy7cPDbok-wfLBLD6tjAXRWGrD-sLdZiR9oY1c4QT9x9d8DsPut2xAgudPxHzTkKmvy8pQQVhtAJm4p0/s320/P1100427.JPG" width="320px" xaa="true" /></a></div>Puddles of water and spilled wheat on a warm September afternoon are like heaven to these guys!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg94jt8ElZws8MeMrvxA6XjAfR9ijHHRaUIT0hIsYGPhQZe-nL6h-CJPOCwZce2iQr1yhKRLD8eLqD1T-yJjC8z4a_EyZNpn0b5IRVThROH__Ubz58hxsBKzUGojrY1-sg9GFTmetySFe-S/s1600/P1100433.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg94jt8ElZws8MeMrvxA6XjAfR9ijHHRaUIT0hIsYGPhQZe-nL6h-CJPOCwZce2iQr1yhKRLD8eLqD1T-yJjC8z4a_EyZNpn0b5IRVThROH__Ubz58hxsBKzUGojrY1-sg9GFTmetySFe-S/s320/P1100433.JPG" width="320px" xaa="true" /></a></div>This handsome fellow is Einer (Enar), a blue Swedish duck who came to live with us about 3 weeks ago. He is very sweet, enjoying treats fed to him by hand and also likes to be handled and petted. Unfortunately, he is not so sweet to the dogs and chases them mercilessly, sneaking up behind them and yanking hair from the backs of their legs. This is especially offensive to the dogs when they are sound asleep, but Einer seems to delight in making the dogs jump and run away. I have tried locking him out of the yard, shutting all of the gates, but he always finds a way in, so Einer has to be locked in a large dog kennel in the barn, complete with plenty of feed and a pool of water, and only gets to come out when I can keep a close eye on him so he doesn't end up beheaded by one of the dogs as they reach the end of their patience with him. He is miserable locked away, but until he learns to leave the dogs alone, it is for the best.<br />
Einer's mate, Ulrika, was a black Swedish duck. She was a beautiful little hen and had a puffy crest of feathers on the top of her head, like a small, silly hat. She had begun laying eggs, so when she disappeared several days ago, I figured she had located a suitable nesting site. She never chased the dogs, so I hadn't penned her up like Einer. Sadly, on Friday, I found her lifeless little body on the front porch, behind a plant. Not a mark was on her, not a feather out of place, so I am certain the dogs didn't take revenge for Einer's ill deeds, but really have no ideas as to what may have happened to her. And I had begun entertaining hopes of a small flock of Swedish ducks living in the barnyard. Now that Ulrika is gone, Einer seems to be a bit more interested in hanging out with the geese instead of chasing the dogs, but he won't regain his freedom until he decides to stay in the barnyard and leave the dogs in peace.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZV2FL1wcrR3nKMJQ3OKUdPgpcC9v3S117RYyyeEvu9iXTOImr1xvvBbH1nRJexCDqu-89-lcxTvWFd8mydJepwebbUCe5LdUhD64a7Ceq6-rYx489bqEQDXtzsBCisWiY7wN_EXpgfvYF/s1600/P1100420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZV2FL1wcrR3nKMJQ3OKUdPgpcC9v3S117RYyyeEvu9iXTOImr1xvvBbH1nRJexCDqu-89-lcxTvWFd8mydJepwebbUCe5LdUhD64a7Ceq6-rYx489bqEQDXtzsBCisWiY7wN_EXpgfvYF/s320/P1100420.JPG" width="320px" xaa="true" /></a></div>The geese came to live with us last spring. They are both ganders, so won't be producing any eggs or goslings to add to the flock. They are Chinese geese, a very loud, talkative breed. While some geese can be aggressive, these two have always kept their distance and have not shown any aggression, except occasionally toward the sheep, who don't seem to be too upset by the threats. I bought the geese in an attempt to help keep predators away from the chickens, but they instead bonded with the sheep and prefer to stay with them whenever possible. Watching the geese run and fly behind the sheep when we move pastures is a pretty amusing sight.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg54cSrJSdEfxO7VBOmX5-YqJW2nKz5gp1WaOqFD7iaRAoWzLxTjWWiNZtfmtKeynhFqR_LuUSCqE3I5asKnMI9ELY5enVuy4LADQqxMqLADXL_zjz5dltZLZmBhKdqxECwvvPV-LwBjohE/s1600/P1100434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg54cSrJSdEfxO7VBOmX5-YqJW2nKz5gp1WaOqFD7iaRAoWzLxTjWWiNZtfmtKeynhFqR_LuUSCqE3I5asKnMI9ELY5enVuy4LADQqxMqLADXL_zjz5dltZLZmBhKdqxECwvvPV-LwBjohE/s320/P1100434.JPG" width="320px" xaa="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Headed back toward the barn after a good time splashing, preening, and eating. While they were at first quite resistant to being moved out into the wheat field, my webbed-footed friends enjoyed themselves immensely once they saw the delightful, and unexpected, puddles and feed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Until next time, may all of your hesitations be replaced with delight.</div>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-51926212326094138432011-07-29T14:23:00.000-07:002011-07-29T14:23:46.811-07:00Chicks on the Move<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVb_Pb1W00lrZoFIaeF-xrfSaWYbtVakG6PGm6beKka7Jpfuxry6Ix-skPkxBQ1LaRXzBTako6InWku8Ii72EUKJcoqa_JcUGNpJP0c4epqK8lxQR7CyLyQbSCjmOOhQn3tn2KkWC7z_6z/s1600/P1100007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVb_Pb1W00lrZoFIaeF-xrfSaWYbtVakG6PGm6beKka7Jpfuxry6Ix-skPkxBQ1LaRXzBTako6InWku8Ii72EUKJcoqa_JcUGNpJP0c4epqK8lxQR7CyLyQbSCjmOOhQn3tn2KkWC7z_6z/s320/P1100007.JPG" t$="true" width="320px" /></a></div>The chicks have outgrown their original brooder and moved to their new home. While the inside of the coop is not too much bigger than their previous space, they now have a fenced yard which adds quite a lot of space for stretching their wings.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JRt82yZBCV5gl6rafqVErcuzyzuxSpgrGIoy6l-6Jka9IW97PPcvGGZq27StP_rpykjIiXDetMT135zdFgd3TD_oJ7W3m8lQhZkuxrSw_PW6li1GsCQIX1B45Im_HSKG9BgN6WTjBb_9/s1600/P1100045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JRt82yZBCV5gl6rafqVErcuzyzuxSpgrGIoy6l-6Jka9IW97PPcvGGZq27StP_rpykjIiXDetMT135zdFgd3TD_oJ7W3m8lQhZkuxrSw_PW6li1GsCQIX1B45Im_HSKG9BgN6WTjBb_9/s320/P1100045.JPG" t$="true" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ancona chick, 4 weeks old</td></tr>
</tbody></table>While they were pretty hesitant at first to enter their new yard, it didn't take too long for the more adventurous in the bunch to head into unknown territory.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC1DeL4D4WuDniVCjavBzdpW37RJ1r-TvCRSVSHrz7NerlT9Oc9SjZ8IuFGJFdz3GK-7GxTjDdIiAfZE2ieASiObrWa7aOx4Yj6a87B995ISb5b3FvJpZSqsuFqCquvZx-4JORfMOVc2eZ/s1600/P1100070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC1DeL4D4WuDniVCjavBzdpW37RJ1r-TvCRSVSHrz7NerlT9Oc9SjZ8IuFGJFdz3GK-7GxTjDdIiAfZE2ieASiObrWa7aOx4Yj6a87B995ISb5b3FvJpZSqsuFqCquvZx-4JORfMOVc2eZ/s320/P1100070.JPG" t$="true" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Black crossbred banty chick, 5 weeks old</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The little black banties are a week older than the rest and most of their chick fluff has now been replaced by real feathers.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw9LxQLTt4KkBJ1Sza_CvvAlCnuAt7P2Wrd78NwE06c119MamBDBAxfaH0Veca8RRZ-x-bnRmRdmtDyzD6x4yw7wGQfMZuuFNmZ9o2aT4mK0mdInauWuL4cYsb_uTzAtwHgz2i8vsJpUwQ/s1600/P1100051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw9LxQLTt4KkBJ1Sza_CvvAlCnuAt7P2Wrd78NwE06c119MamBDBAxfaH0Veca8RRZ-x-bnRmRdmtDyzD6x4yw7wGQfMZuuFNmZ9o2aT4mK0mdInauWuL4cYsb_uTzAtwHgz2i8vsJpUwQ/s320/P1100051.JPG" t$="true" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Speckled Sussex chick, 4 weeks old</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The Speckled Sussex chicks have also replaced much of their down. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN8ZSpE1RaYa9FgM6OAeqlO4gaNzM0o2VOo-4Z5Zkv_0jTOjQnUj0yY43stGbsQ2j2YG8NE7U_WvTk91d_hQIgOh5JLwjm09RacKv5oQSTr4AffVvOi5YFE_yugvdv0xwtyGeEeHjHTf4F/s1600/P1100020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN8ZSpE1RaYa9FgM6OAeqlO4gaNzM0o2VOo-4Z5Zkv_0jTOjQnUj0yY43stGbsQ2j2YG8NE7U_WvTk91d_hQIgOh5JLwjm09RacKv5oQSTr4AffVvOi5YFE_yugvdv0xwtyGeEeHjHTf4F/s320/P1100020.JPG" t$="true" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White Orpington Chick, 4 weeks old</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv7ERKG4-cesz8CYsH_PJDUbVbxaML7CZDLZK1JXxxVIC7w7iY9vhUxg8VJonhJpZMk4RJPVrlcyZYdyD2vLlIqqWriCbmMq2SJT43HPqwu_U4ZPejyAExFLzZo-xvHWeComWzz9iDgYHD/s1600/P1100014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv7ERKG4-cesz8CYsH_PJDUbVbxaML7CZDLZK1JXxxVIC7w7iY9vhUxg8VJonhJpZMk4RJPVrlcyZYdyD2vLlIqqWriCbmMq2SJT43HPqwu_U4ZPejyAExFLzZo-xvHWeComWzz9iDgYHD/s320/P1100014.JPG" t$="true" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Light Brahma chick, 4 weeks old</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The White Orpingtons and Light Brahmas seem to have feathers on their bodies, but their heads are still fluff. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBC8FmPNsrVGHAwYtv_FqKo9bKvTA8f1tQhBA13dHFj9to97JdVfAtrDwzj8FUTY8BcwGgwBpV9MzDLhEUjixwxXU7Owoc3uLb6KmvnOBfzpkSgRXgE0aegiEVvPzb3_2Ev0nPhtDOIby2/s1600/P1100077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBC8FmPNsrVGHAwYtv_FqKo9bKvTA8f1tQhBA13dHFj9to97JdVfAtrDwzj8FUTY8BcwGgwBpV9MzDLhEUjixwxXU7Owoc3uLb6KmvnOBfzpkSgRXgE0aegiEVvPzb3_2Ev0nPhtDOIby2/s320/P1100077.JPG" t$="true" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Partridge Cochin chick, 4 weeks old</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOlMAdYJTjWSXsJzyenr0N7dU2sHm0buFiS0x4jC0Vj1DX01Puj2ZFySVhwb4tSXNanGvdah4yRdBFgRo8R8UJrrz7Vi8ib6FUpOEFhkLrzs9zGeymHF0Y6aDe6GH3ycNVlJei2WOCVVQq/s1600/P1100040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOlMAdYJTjWSXsJzyenr0N7dU2sHm0buFiS0x4jC0Vj1DX01Puj2ZFySVhwb4tSXNanGvdah4yRdBFgRo8R8UJrrz7Vi8ib6FUpOEFhkLrzs9zGeymHF0Y6aDe6GH3ycNVlJei2WOCVVQq/s320/P1100040.JPG" t$="true" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Free hatchery mystery chick, 4 weeks old</td></tr>
</tbody></table>But, oh my goodness, the Partridge Cochins and free mystery bird are pretty pitiful this week. I know the Cochins will be very handsome birds when they are grown, but the mystery bird? Hmmm, I guess only time can answer that question!<br />
Until next time, may time be kind to your countenance!Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-9286385836005105772011-07-14T22:19:00.000-07:002011-07-14T22:19:18.839-07:00Growing Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2cYBj9Aei6U-8lV_JY_1S98QXkS2dnSpc1ZLSWzpoCk3G4N8tAeF3bOloGrVjmhRIV5MCu-aehFIb4BH5u7M2uPp8co64nbTOXskfoKCdsoSQT_4-s1nqmJrzAXbbwaA1Uf-25Oj3twyv/s1600/P1090380.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2cYBj9Aei6U-8lV_JY_1S98QXkS2dnSpc1ZLSWzpoCk3G4N8tAeF3bOloGrVjmhRIV5MCu-aehFIb4BH5u7M2uPp8co64nbTOXskfoKCdsoSQT_4-s1nqmJrzAXbbwaA1Uf-25Oj3twyv/s320/P1090380.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>It did not take long for the baby chicks to outgrow their stock tank. In fact they were only in it for a day before I tipped it on its side to give them more room. The active chicks were constantly running over the smaller, weaker ones and interrupting their naps. Poor little sleepyheads! I used heavy cardboard to slowly increase their space until they had the full run of the 6'x10' enclosure after several days. <br />
Mortality has seemed fairly high as I have lost a total of 7 chicks, most within the first week. Two of those were the white Cochins I was concerned about and also lost two of the Mille Fleur bantams. The rest were a variety of breeds. The light went out on Tuesday night of this week, which happened to be a night it chilled off somewhat and we got a little rain. I nearly lost one of the Brahma banties then, but was able to get it rewarmed before it was too late.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio37hMKPLbCT-W27nUzWB6sXXCsopYr_aqfcDOkYE-8ULmKv2d07BP5TljTo7MohyLKtAC-wELQD0DEAQeMGVviMw5xbPzlswcgCDVG44ozrVoe1e01yM0iwTpIdLmyvhi-nu3zy7A1cPy/s1600/P1090416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio37hMKPLbCT-W27nUzWB6sXXCsopYr_aqfcDOkYE-8ULmKv2d07BP5TljTo7MohyLKtAC-wELQD0DEAQeMGVviMw5xbPzlswcgCDVG44ozrVoe1e01yM0iwTpIdLmyvhi-nu3zy7A1cPy/s320/P1090416.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Light Brahma</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The slower growing breeds are still cute and don't look too awfully different than they did two weeks ago. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc1z8erXqbH8CCg_0P4ucjCzpJeI2rqWls23OppLVeZc3t98sf1doodSMdaBYQmK77ioUpYU9TFdzC42Y3z6iMYYfZkQz4DiAaX4_YNAIveaCOGHrnw9jnEqzO6p6VlV8WxXRz83oNs0uH/s1600/P1090469.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc1z8erXqbH8CCg_0P4ucjCzpJeI2rqWls23OppLVeZc3t98sf1doodSMdaBYQmK77ioUpYU9TFdzC42Y3z6iMYYfZkQz4DiAaX4_YNAIveaCOGHrnw9jnEqzO6p6VlV8WxXRz83oNs0uH/s320/P1090469.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Silver Spangled Hamburg</td></tr>
</tbody></table>But the faster growing chicks are just starting into their awkward stage. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitAHHYpR5m8OyEW4siMveknOKoTguZ7NsRa9XfML3aQ8SgMn2oyRvWCxmDpdVcSgb8DI7xBuEYPJEJyV7_G3JNCtNMpxKnjzkkzUdXZ1Rhl8d18fP8Mfqb9cdTUka8NvcEU2bX-ehiLAe1/s1600/P1090512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitAHHYpR5m8OyEW4siMveknOKoTguZ7NsRa9XfML3aQ8SgMn2oyRvWCxmDpdVcSgb8DI7xBuEYPJEJyV7_G3JNCtNMpxKnjzkkzUdXZ1Rhl8d18fP8Mfqb9cdTUka8NvcEU2bX-ehiLAe1/s320/P1090512.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brown Leghorn</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Baby chick fluff is being replaced by real feathers.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAvfMSK4OpEzQIALfIJPKuL1jL7zTRwkpbmecsyQ-FQ2p0f_n67dxkw6k-NFRV7vygf2cfUcyu1HmURzz06DCKSxf_AxIgHMnyxKHWdHgzGdgGmHsG6krqlsIlGs4QniT6uXgvIVXPSs9p/s1600/P1090465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAvfMSK4OpEzQIALfIJPKuL1jL7zTRwkpbmecsyQ-FQ2p0f_n67dxkw6k-NFRV7vygf2cfUcyu1HmURzz06DCKSxf_AxIgHMnyxKHWdHgzGdgGmHsG6krqlsIlGs4QniT6uXgvIVXPSs9p/s320/P1090465.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>But the poor little black banties are about a week older than the rest and totally into the awkward, gangly, teenager stage.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZI-U4CvsB_NiszIO_fsOKYz5BeG6R_LPBXAXRfRMf4__UHH14_MPyjJHlMpXrdJfr7f2ew-5W0_4-w86XCNN1L1RWmpVx6aZZA23FHRCRjRl3FpKWbEq4H_vFY3lH9vmNseDgR0vQ7jUU/s1600/P1090532.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZI-U4CvsB_NiszIO_fsOKYz5BeG6R_LPBXAXRfRMf4__UHH14_MPyjJHlMpXrdJfr7f2ew-5W0_4-w86XCNN1L1RWmpVx6aZZA23FHRCRjRl3FpKWbEq4H_vFY3lH9vmNseDgR0vQ7jUU/s320/P1090532.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White Orpington</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Every adolescent wants to stand out from the crowd, and . . . .<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLfwQrgI0IuPQQkiFLTRCxKfaUTML2zkYZ-xLqT7AvKOVzwZaC2kGvh0XCxsRC6TE3RVfqwjMxVvtI5dDd90iaa-mSJcdwCLzpGYPJqIve-IlY6clWR_3nu4wOSWi_KVv7ze2zr8ViAH2U/s1600/P1090577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLfwQrgI0IuPQQkiFLTRCxKfaUTML2zkYZ-xLqT7AvKOVzwZaC2kGvh0XCxsRC6TE3RVfqwjMxVvtI5dDd90iaa-mSJcdwCLzpGYPJqIve-IlY6clWR_3nu4wOSWi_KVv7ze2zr8ViAH2U/s320/P1090577.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Golden-Laced Wyandotte</td></tr>
</tbody></table>spread their wings a little.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL9tGZktidWZxg2xoJBBIoeBcHekM28USMT-5rB1SQgsFJlNuoEMxafntdoF9o3q3S3KDHK61k4hW06-wmR608psSKyuy3BX2n2zNmKYvik97PShmErdUY4zhl89w1UKI4-l9ne7VhcXYE/s1600/P1090591.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL9tGZktidWZxg2xoJBBIoeBcHekM28USMT-5rB1SQgsFJlNuoEMxafntdoF9o3q3S3KDHK61k4hW06-wmR608psSKyuy3BX2n2zNmKYvik97PShmErdUY4zhl89w1UKI4-l9ne7VhcXYE/s320/P1090591.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dark Brahma and Silver Spangled Hamburg</td></tr>
</tbody></table>And everyone likes to hang out and talk with their friends as they find their place in the world.<br />
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Until next time, may you be blessed with good friends to help through the awkward moments in life!Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-59558137088241007012011-06-27T19:30:00.000-07:002011-06-27T19:30:42.375-07:00Mail Order ChicksLet me first clarify that the phrase 'mail order chicks' should in no way be confused with 'mail order brides'. I am referring to the feathered, cheeping chick. Sorry, boys! I only call attention to this as I have sons in their twenties, so can just hear the comments they might make!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfT0uP6q6LS_CEqaGyK8-RnPpiPSj7RGKf7S4ox8iBPJjsPLCHtH9XD01MIgPVshFeUBMUVDE3EFTnOcG0yE8X8xxpkJiNo84-YUCVGTP9tgwaX2QP_KVe-XtiKxt_J4XAPKHSAtovwkEq/s1600/Chick+boxes+in+the+pickup+at+the+post+office.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfT0uP6q6LS_CEqaGyK8-RnPpiPSj7RGKf7S4ox8iBPJjsPLCHtH9XD01MIgPVshFeUBMUVDE3EFTnOcG0yE8X8xxpkJiNo84-YUCVGTP9tgwaX2QP_KVe-XtiKxt_J4XAPKHSAtovwkEq/s320/Chick+boxes+in+the+pickup+at+the+post+office.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
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Last winter I received a hatchery catalog in the mail. While I have always been intrigued with the thought of cheeping boxes being delivered to my post office, I put the thought of ordering chicks aside. For a while. But as winter wore on and I found myself drawn back to the images of so many different breeds of chickens, most of which I had never seen outside the pages of a book or catalog. By February I had decided that I would just order some of those exotic fowl. I had lost most of my flock by then and I had a new plan. To raise young chicks and fix up one of the barns below the house. The barn the old hens preferred was impossible to make predator proof on my budget, but I figured I could make the smaller one work.<br />
I made lists of the chickens I would order, then amended the lists. I knew I wanted gentle hens as I love being able to walk amongst the hens as they cluck at my feet. But these are just the kind of hens that foxes and coyotes love. Easy pickings. So then I added a few whose descriptions included phrases like "very alert" and "forages and avoids predators well". Next the kids got in on the fun and spent time looking through the catalog, each one choosing their favorite. Final decisions were made and the order was placed for delivery the week of June 27th.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHsEv4l-dQGjr5til5ujFHVWH7jLtzERUuez9XqR6suHBYdzmmrxl6mF5cBUmOzNZ0PPvM0S1pkGkOk56R-Pp8Uwafhi_SORhBmAY1u_eIiYC8PoTIaTnfVV8HyiRCs8sxAs1L9q7WOFeM/s1600/Inside+the+small+box.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHsEv4l-dQGjr5til5ujFHVWH7jLtzERUuez9XqR6suHBYdzmmrxl6mF5cBUmOzNZ0PPvM0S1pkGkOk56R-Pp8Uwafhi_SORhBmAY1u_eIiYC8PoTIaTnfVV8HyiRCs8sxAs1L9q7WOFeM/s320/Inside+the+small+box.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Contents of the smaller box</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Today was the long-awaited day. It started with a phone call from the post office at 5:51 AM. I raced off to get the chicks, rush them back home and settled in as quickly as possible. It is just amazing that those tiny fragile creatures could survive the trip from Iowa to Oregon. Survive they did and arrived with every single one alive. They were so happy to join the four little banties in the warm stock tank where they drank, ate, stretched their wings and ran from one end to the other. They will soon outgrow this setup, but it will keep them safe and warm for several days while they build strength to enter a larger space.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqtIDgN1_s0rVyn4FgFHvjEl37fbl5qoxk4XYYsjHf__SD2An7d_qMcur9-VElehwtiET6_tIU46buSDxtzknTYMWq7-HWbjgbl_1GlI5kx_92vYlwvsuPOXkS9WRslgNylrq5qD-mxAzZ/s1600/Mille+Fleurs.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqtIDgN1_s0rVyn4FgFHvjEl37fbl5qoxk4XYYsjHf__SD2An7d_qMcur9-VElehwtiET6_tIU46buSDxtzknTYMWq7-HWbjgbl_1GlI5kx_92vYlwvsuPOXkS9WRslgNylrq5qD-mxAzZ/s320/Mille+Fleurs.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bearded Belgian d'Uccle Mille Fleur banties</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Unfortunately, I have lost one little Mille Fleur banty and believe it may have been my own fault. I think I missed him when showing them the water and dipping their beaks to encourage drinking. He seemed okay when I unpacked them and moved them to the stock tank. Then again, maybe it was the little guy on the right side of the picture and he wasn't just dozing as I had thought. In additon, I am having some trouble with all three White Cochins. They arrived far weaker than the other chicks and I have been hand watering and feeding them throughout the day. Time will tell if they make it or not. I will keep doing whatever I can to help them along.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPB5Nb1jXTFV-9EW07Z8NU55RqzBUWM_qnombFgFqdf6Q6oC-67F1SRSqAQcrr3zy786ULwSN9DK3DErYD6KStmsXjp_7TN5PLAMp3R8g52kdMukQ7LxjvvBn_9N0uhdB91G_c8GGG3hSt/s1600/Partridge+Cochin.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPB5Nb1jXTFV-9EW07Z8NU55RqzBUWM_qnombFgFqdf6Q6oC-67F1SRSqAQcrr3zy786ULwSN9DK3DErYD6KStmsXjp_7TN5PLAMp3R8g52kdMukQ7LxjvvBn_9N0uhdB91G_c8GGG3hSt/s320/Partridge+Cochin.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Partridge Cochin chick<br />
These little guys were so lively I had a hard time getting a picture of them. One immediately jumped out of the basket I was using to contain them for photographing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Until next time, may all the chicks in your life be strong and healthy!Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-25319396556245668022011-06-25T21:20:00.000-07:002011-06-25T21:20:19.471-07:00Chicken Nuggets<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKugtQS5sd-RyE-OCoNgauD0mn6g1HM3MDv5E08Le1obTHJbDvS1oiWR3_ebAUqzeU5-NPt6w6zDa0fh4RbYuWOwux-N8mBdaYCVD6q6lWciPyku41at_x5A64_pWQtOkSIo7W5BzulhR6/s1600/P1080807.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKugtQS5sd-RyE-OCoNgauD0mn6g1HM3MDv5E08Le1obTHJbDvS1oiWR3_ebAUqzeU5-NPt6w6zDa0fh4RbYuWOwux-N8mBdaYCVD6q6lWciPyku41at_x5A64_pWQtOkSIo7W5BzulhR6/s320/P1080807.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div> Several days ago, mama hen brought her 10 little ones to visit in the yard, which I discovered when I heard a loud "PEEP, PEEP, PEEP" coming through the house. One of the housecats was bringing me a treasure with the other cat close behind in case he dropped it. When I went to take the chick from him, though, he changed his mind and no longer wished to share his little nugget with me or anyone else. After a short chase, I managed to retrieve the poor terrified chick. Out in the yard there was panic with hen and chicks scattered to all corners. I managed to scoop up four more babies and found another little one had already been killed. I penned up the five I had caught with the hope that mama would come back for them and I could then catch her and the remaining four. She did come close, but was always watching out for me and I could not manage to get the gate to the the outer pen closed before she was back out. Poor babies cried and cried for mama for two or three days and have just today stopped calling for her, but she thinks the yard is a dangerous place and refuses to come back in. Yesterday I checked the babies in the morning and found my favorite chick had died overnight. He appeared healthy and strong, so am not sure what happened, but was sad to lose him as he was a beautiful mahogany color with feathered feet, while the rest are black chicks with some light patches. He did not happen to be the one the cat brought into the house, either. That was a black chick and is doing just fine!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">They look so tiny in the big tank all alone.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNGZ6G9BaRs-4koqqWS6jftAlCSWToPx843s2Rty2grBPbRIWoKSTxNrt_e2l9bcD0EYQmPqbYie7owvShuqCRg_0Hgw-fFxidocMQWCwqn2OCO24axK8WdfgraSOwdZY9BeaVhYadjvX6/s1600/P1080819.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNGZ6G9BaRs-4koqqWS6jftAlCSWToPx843s2Rty2grBPbRIWoKSTxNrt_e2l9bcD0EYQmPqbYie7owvShuqCRg_0Hgw-fFxidocMQWCwqn2OCO24axK8WdfgraSOwdZY9BeaVhYadjvX6/s320/P1080819.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Minnie Mae would like a taste of chicken nuggets, please.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Sorry, Minnie Mae, you are going to have to stick to your cat food!</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDrD-ybIiCrRn8wcsoF918C77h3WDXl3VPLPzSz3oOgIkUWhGlHTmY7pYJTK_0ernAn5Pvp7iXSkZXLyGVaEsEIh5EuX9txoiEG-xEVrd6KGbGQICc4JpHru_PnXK_60_YH3oGLQQUci5y/s1600/P1080821.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDrD-ybIiCrRn8wcsoF918C77h3WDXl3VPLPzSz3oOgIkUWhGlHTmY7pYJTK_0ernAn5Pvp7iXSkZXLyGVaEsEIh5EuX9txoiEG-xEVrd6KGbGQICc4JpHru_PnXK_60_YH3oGLQQUci5y/s320/P1080821.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-4063662811181014522011-06-17T15:03:00.000-07:002011-06-17T15:14:42.713-07:00Chick Surprise!One of my black banties had gone missing and I was sure she had become chicken dinner for some sharp-toothed critter. I had found her <span style="background-color: white;">abandoned</span> nest some time back, which is usually an indication that the hen is unable to return. But, lo and behold, I was pleasantly surprised yesterday to find her alive and well as she clucked lovingly to 10 little ones out in the barn lot!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqpJnmRdyzeYktinTClvNXN7HDUb44HiXOrniX_7djdk1ZRJu3RbYU66JpAe7pnGBknN1FAXj3_bL3hPw7o4BJNDsgbiGc7QXjWEaIQNoND78zyZVjeRxqL2h0nXEZSFQzBEXd__2snkMt/s1600/P1080433.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqpJnmRdyzeYktinTClvNXN7HDUb44HiXOrniX_7djdk1ZRJu3RbYU66JpAe7pnGBknN1FAXj3_bL3hPw7o4BJNDsgbiGc7QXjWEaIQNoND78zyZVjeRxqL2h0nXEZSFQzBEXd__2snkMt/s320/P1080433.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOWBz-gtHX8Pf1N2_iua65UZ1ryAgBeYssFR3TdRVjuwFZ90zPE9qCR959dVjwvya4p0OC1BA3HqN8dbpvjzvTCB0BZPof8ldYUhhlMUjLE3DT27R2ND9rXJE-7Y-un4hQgZG7B4mtr_Cr/s1600/P1080453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOWBz-gtHX8Pf1N2_iua65UZ1ryAgBeYssFR3TdRVjuwFZ90zPE9qCR959dVjwvya4p0OC1BA3HqN8dbpvjzvTCB0BZPof8ldYUhhlMUjLE3DT27R2ND9rXJE-7Y-un4hQgZG7B4mtr_Cr/s320/P1080453.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>I am hopeful she can raise this batch of chicks as the Pyrenees cross pups are becoming more and more effective at keeping the predators at bay and protecting their family of chickens, sheep, etc. On Tuesday, their dad, Chuck, was here to visit and together they killed a raccoon who had been hanging around for quite some time. This morning the pups brought in the body of a young raccoon they had killed. While I love watching raccoons and am fascinated by their actions, I lost about 40 chickens last winter, many to raccoons who would climb into the barn rafters and dine as the chickens slept. The carnage of chicken body parts that had fallen from above was not a pretty sight in the morning.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_aYI1USG8kOP5BByyYExBb7yW2pwjXHuW22JZl5GggPfXW4mO4by-0_B2Hamjf9CY4WVpjCl1FY2GFokezdU7huhzMzhFjYBOrhlVFvxKBTnOKoeESsIiW97UcorFpH-MwiBFy3-Y9jXj/s1600/P1080463.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_aYI1USG8kOP5BByyYExBb7yW2pwjXHuW22JZl5GggPfXW4mO4by-0_B2Hamjf9CY4WVpjCl1FY2GFokezdU7huhzMzhFjYBOrhlVFvxKBTnOKoeESsIiW97UcorFpH-MwiBFy3-Y9jXj/s320/P1080463.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>I just had to include this picture of Snickers goat. He is not happy with me at all. Yesterday he got out and helped himself to the roses just beginning to open up their gorgeous blooms in the yard as he is a master gate opener. He again got out several times today, and in fact, joined me inside the house at one point as I had a back door open. I looked and looked, but could not figure out where he had gotten out. While taking pictures of the chicks, I put him in again and set a pan of grain outside the pen. He still refused to show me where he was getting out until he thought I'd gone back to the house. From my hiding spot, I watched him slip though a gate that had not been fastened tightly enough when the guys were working cows yesterday. I refastened the gate and gave him his pan of feed, but he knows a small pan of grain is not equal to the freedom he was tasting.<br />
Until next time, may you savor the freedoms you are able to enjoy!Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-66872977190682011732010-02-07T21:32:00.000-08:002010-02-07T21:32:05.616-08:00Goat Adventures<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Qn8TymTKYjAGKAPEeCasDNm9uV_jIpXOQEjBc8KHLAWoeLwtcw1DwUpTFjOMRs0frnwbfyjc6avbThPLxYBaYIXFwT4yB4mIF5VCI-6lszlUIzEJwUC5oUcG_1Vikyjg-nFaD6M44FlK/s1600-h/IMG_0033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Qn8TymTKYjAGKAPEeCasDNm9uV_jIpXOQEjBc8KHLAWoeLwtcw1DwUpTFjOMRs0frnwbfyjc6avbThPLxYBaYIXFwT4yB4mIF5VCI-6lszlUIzEJwUC5oUcG_1Vikyjg-nFaD6M44FlK/s320/IMG_0033.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Here is the newest addition to the farm critters. We had a family adventure to go pick him up outside Athena, Oregon, about an hour away from the house. It was supposed to be a relatively quick trip, but after the keys being locked inside the pickup and waiting for a locksmith to rescue us, it ended up being a rather late night. Gotta love these kinds of adventures!</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">This pretty goat was given to me as he was too small for the market shipment last fall and now needed to be removed from the doe pen before they begin having their new crop of babies. I agreed to bring him home as my pet goat has been very lonely since his brother died serveral months ago. I figured if this guy wasn't friendly and did not have the makings of a pet, he could always continue on toward his original fate as a meat goat. </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">We brought him home last night, so figured on keeping him in the barn with the other goat for several days until he got his bearings and was comforatable in his new home. He had been around people, but never really had much handling, so I expected to put in some time with him before he started liking people. First thing this morning, Ethan and Eida ran over to the barn lot to see the new addition and he took right to them, even chasing Eida around the pen as if she were a playmate, bucking and kicking. He loved her even more after several handfuls of grain. After the kids left, every time I went outside, this new guy had his head through the gate rails, calling to me, begging me to come over. He is not quite sure he wants to be scratched and petted, just wanted me close by, then was content.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhedMPeQZ-1T1L7t_wpJxNxctwxuZeXcfdeTF_9pOYz4IDEdLV6dHaEibCZeloG78VDYNAGgubWXB7TrhHWCXvJmwKwZHvMJ3FDVrXrl4Rt1EBmWBGdD2S3pE01qVcnvMLkFFm70PDjrHH3/s1600-h/IMG_0034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhedMPeQZ-1T1L7t_wpJxNxctwxuZeXcfdeTF_9pOYz4IDEdLV6dHaEibCZeloG78VDYNAGgubWXB7TrhHWCXvJmwKwZHvMJ3FDVrXrl4Rt1EBmWBGdD2S3pE01qVcnvMLkFFm70PDjrHH3/s320/IMG_0034.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Because he seemed to have bonded well both to myself and the other goat, I tried taking him out of the barn lot. He stayed close to me, so we headed off on my regular evening walk. He stuck right beside me the entire way, as if he had been taking walks with us forever. The little brown goat, Snickers, is definately the boss, butting and biting if the new goat tried to get between myself and Snickers or jumped on a log to be king of the mountain, a major breach of goat conduct! </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">So, it looks like this youngster may have the personality needed to save him from becoming barbeque. He may even fit in well with some of the public events our animals attend in the community such as petting zoos and Living Nativity. Lucky little guy!</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Any good name ideas? I was thinking of sticking with the sweet theme as the brown goat is Snickers and this guy is kind of a backward Oreo coloring. He is a French Alpine breed, so maybe something French?? All suggestions will be appreciated!!</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Until next time, may your attitude surround you with sweetness and keep you out of the stew pot! </div>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-13952505666161190862010-01-24T00:01:00.000-08:002010-01-24T00:01:05.144-08:00Meet Chuck!<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgurC5388Z1sgEpwWKUoKr1lB9JV4-Cfheig6cCYRPGemsCv1EGV6rljJd1UWhK6Zy2loQAbGb-SroH9Lrby4-tsXpyzvFKEwhngniKh9BvMnOjaJU2BqX_X-vufB7GqyoCIG7hVotXwGXa/s1600-h/IMG_2584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgurC5388Z1sgEpwWKUoKr1lB9JV4-Cfheig6cCYRPGemsCv1EGV6rljJd1UWhK6Zy2loQAbGb-SroH9Lrby4-tsXpyzvFKEwhngniKh9BvMnOjaJU2BqX_X-vufB7GqyoCIG7hVotXwGXa/s320/IMG_2584.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Last spring, Chuck came to live with us at the age of 13 weeks. He had just been taken away from his mama, put into a dog crate, and hauled in a car for a couple of hours to get to his new home. He was not impressed with all of the changes, his new home, or us! Jordan is telling him that we really are okay, but Chuck is not easily convinced and pouted for nearly a week.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Once Chuck recovered from the tauma of moving to a new home, he warmed up to all of us and found a best friend in Roxy. She tried to teach him important things like barking at coyotes, swimming in the river, and hunting mice. He understands about keeping coyotes and bad guys away, has learned to splash around in the river and tries to imitate hunting mice, but really wonders what all the fuss is about - those little mice don't even count as a snack . . .<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">We lost Roxy to an unfortunate accident and buried her on the hill behind the house on Thanksgiving morning. Chuck was very bewildered and did not understand why his lively friend would not get up and play with him. He became so upset when we wrapped her in her favorite blanket that he had to be held back as he was pawing and unwrapping her faster than we could get her covered, even after we had allowed him quite a lot of time with her body. His grief was so great that he continued to dig on her grave for several weeks and has now taken to spending a lot of his day laying up on the hill near her gravesite. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Chuck looks so regal laying in the golden leaves by the river, but in reality is eating a dead fish. He has even been known to eat dead dried up snakes he has found in the road.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Chuck finds great delight in the snow, running, playing, chasing, and rolling in it. He really is well suited to cold weather and stays so much cleaner with all the sparkly stuff on the ground!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">So, from afar, we can pretend Chuck is a regal, dignified protector, but close up he is just a goof. Whenever he is out with the livestock, or on a walk wandering the pastures and woods with any of his people, he is actually quite serious, but when he is around the house, he is always up for a bit of fun. With lambing season yet to come, we will see if he can keep the coyotes and cougars away, but we have not had coyotes close in by the house and barns as we've had in the past and have lost no chickens to predators since Chuck has come to live with us. His grandparents are proven cougar killers, so maybe his family's reputation has gotten around and the local thugs have moved on to safer neighborhoods.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Until next time, may you be blessed with a diligent and loyal protector . . .<br />
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</div>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-2619937431872263852010-01-10T19:57:00.000-08:002010-01-10T22:43:28.094-08:00Catching Up<div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMeEbT99yx5N6A0W0stQJzGcFzJUj510OmGYTdUQJ5WC2c3DRzEy2lHAgg-UBhcUgZZ7OWCKJ353E73ynKWztwAiMx17UcSvvDUrBcvIeBV_ti6OZ5hBFfxXn8TAt_jPyhTfcgTZp85d0q/s1600-h/IMG_0068.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425359385678807346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMeEbT99yx5N6A0W0stQJzGcFzJUj510OmGYTdUQJ5WC2c3DRzEy2lHAgg-UBhcUgZZ7OWCKJ353E73ynKWztwAiMx17UcSvvDUrBcvIeBV_ti6OZ5hBFfxXn8TAt_jPyhTfcgTZp85d0q/s320/IMG_0068.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><div>My sisters, Stacey and Paula, are so diligent at keeping up their blogs, while I plod along slowly. My sisters, you inspire me and I can only hope to one day come somewhere close to your awesome accomplishments! I think I can, I think I can . . . .<br /><div><br /><div><div><div>If you have not seen their blogs, pop on over and visit <a href="http://staceystreasures@blogspot.com">Stacey</a> and <a href="http://onarainynight@blogspot.com">Paula</a> and enjoy as they are both excellent writers.</div><div><br />So many things take place here on the farm when time passes between posts and it becomes difficult to decide where to start, but here is a quick run down of several changes we have had. I will follow up with more in-depth posts on several of these changes.</div><div><br />Of course, the weather has turned from early fall to midwinter and we are currently in mud season.</div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 319px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425344246345457618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMnI_-N2MRR4M2ZVrnT9OC5irFur8-wap9ewQUjNHYZSEK6FikQ8LxOEaGdUhyQgffiQElOEEpdxxwEcWQhT7bYQ9vtkxG5Rwnlwc3OeGSB2_4-Jmz4aajFOZfSOtxdtld3Vhwhcxlg8j1/s320/IMG_2596.JPG" /><br /><div>Last spring we had fairly heavy lamb losses due to predators, both coyotes and cougar, so Jordan got a Great Pyrenees pup whose parents are proven livestock guard dogs in hopes that he can help reduce any further losses.</div></div><div> </div><div><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 322px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 224px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425344254100206066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RG07dt4_xROrk9_nAL0iPcApsyoxNSh0IDPobNyamgJ01mSfkubdHprLDjCc31OGtmfWpEwAUMAAd-z_hXV1xRSYu2cS4ddgNMT9Oc96gkvSVfoQGohrxgkDU1QoHYHkds1x6CZxpYis/s320/IMG_2198.JPG" /><br /><div>We lost our beloved Roxy dog on Thanksgiving and still miss her every day. She was an invaluable part of our family and the farm, and we will never be able to truly replace her.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 231px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 308px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425344273139537170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK7VE19NbJLW9VtxiX364JVgqu4wKw8iiEd_QP9tKrdRlHUJDpI-0kxbTN_69qUVY-xFW68dCPQkw7Tkz5UQUvl_ROryNZOwjdY-0EOZEjnYboHHI9f5xACVAwi4Gp9Z5SsUvj-otHFO5z/s320/IMG_2463.JPG" /></div><br /><div>We took several of our most friendly critters to our church's Living Nativity and found out some interesting background on my miniature donkey, Elmer. Turns out Elmer and I share a birthday!</div><div> </div><div> </div><div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425359375192449314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDRV9qVnfgnRKCg0VcVhIDSpRBbMU5mv4WacdkD4Cj4qis1I1d6LZ_Ntmfpv-DUvOEiBA3rrRVHABb7VRcyfwc8Nn7eZYS1G917x-qs-JBiygi3OXZCwBXR5hjb-5LExvWAawY8zyn9bzc/s320/IMG_3362.JPG" />Another sad event took place a couple of weeks ago when one of Jordan's fair lambs, Jumper, died of pregancy complications. <div><br /><br /></div><div><br /> </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 318px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 233px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425350209748693042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVZYHPQwvDQKByCJSfGbxmbO6ZFRvF5J9dujVkGavlQ-f9QMskvITwiMqUCOwb13Oe8vMb-0odTWewpOIXAuEC3xOM6zMFW6TL0_GDOYfGMs5ic8Bv93-2WOVzhfxJYO-J-4kXRSxH7nza/s320/IMG_2443.JPG" /> After having his feet trimmed recently, Roland, KP's little mustang went down in the barn and may have died if Jordan had not gone out to check on the horses when he did. I beleive he pulled back and went down, tightening the rope further, flipped to his back, then was unable to right himself as the halter and rope held tight. He is such a good common-sense horse it surprises me he let himself get into such a predicament, but am so grateful the outcome was positive. While he was a bit shaky afterward, he seems to have no lasting ill effects and is back to his old self.<br /><div></div></div><div> </div><div><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425364093874656402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6H144GrBo-KNK51eOaBROMH_Gp0gAQRqzWc8ZpGXk3d28Ga-oJ88xDvBPJ5bZRfqnewVLwfN1XJcEPwQJvxsBoMsdDxXtEw64IcpC79V-AvRtQvAAHuQ8p7FVLBko4xXHsZEOk0i6f6M1/s320/IMG_0059.JPG" />Amongst these highlights, both sad and glad, are the usual happenings of new kittens, baby calves and the never-ending hunt for the hen's newest hiding places for their precious eggs!<br /><br /><div><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425366054532976562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS2jXOIe4gbrEZav0TXMO7PqfmAfnAxhmuFZc21MwHQESJ7e6BJ9WRofCvEtC43GeZkNabQw5CXVZdflEgaTKWPZDPfxD5OfBJPLe-2WPqxMmTkoNTHSre43KJUrk3gj2TNWpWxkjDedQ6/s320/IMG_0064.JPG" /><br /><div>Until next time, hope your happenings are more glad and less sad!</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-21345329571004722532009-11-01T18:16:00.001-08:002009-11-01T18:45:34.130-08:00Home at Last<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399324897044868626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqry9aKoOBvcLFYOraUXKGikMxMuNLV_fBgBX0BgiC26KZMM5TBLnQnpKr7sn8K_MeAL6Y8YymeG1gG0L3zxtGq20gMZhrX0SHMnwxFE3hdQANj9G2KimfwXCSiXtrkkg34v2U7GKlnCMn/s320/IMG_3610.JPG" /><br /><br />The ewes and lambs came back home on Friday after spending the summer on pasture. They seemed to be happy to be back and Jim, the old ram, was nearly beside himself to see his harem again.<br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399326513189878738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqhKq99yk64S_N8xomcIB6jenexwI6yWNoi7X0-oIcOmbL5ZEpx-AE-tc4Wt9X5bOPbJppbSuTbeQCC2VZjO7ZbBq7HuaJ8rd2oWF-q6X7BDYJsxNVGgYDwHdYu3xnO1L_M7kjF8dSvogu/s320/IMG_3613.JPG" /><br /> The younger ram is a purebred Romney who is now getting to know the ewe lambs. He has a much sweeter nature than old Jim. We are looking forward to seeing what his lambs will look like next spring.<br />We spent a good portion of today working on fences and tagging the ewe lambs. I love the weather this time of year, clear and crisp, but warm during the day. Nothing short of glorious!<br /><br />Until next time, may all of your homecomings be cause for celebration!<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div></div></div>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-18273105358201997562009-10-31T18:48:00.000-07:002009-10-31T21:07:20.059-07:00Jordan's Catch<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCvWpDNTW5ldTPfF80wFnKpicGDaG4IjWK8dH3t18jZJBhrwurDkOTUFEjR_rlUsz_3R2tzWEK_X-atzFw07AXpLwyh8KiCsEwbRDNJVu-gQHZ1Sw3PyW9S9makuCr_QrA8hpMEssol1I8/s1600-h/IMG_3593.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398952353924632418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCvWpDNTW5ldTPfF80wFnKpicGDaG4IjWK8dH3t18jZJBhrwurDkOTUFEjR_rlUsz_3R2tzWEK_X-atzFw07AXpLwyh8KiCsEwbRDNJVu-gQHZ1Sw3PyW9S9makuCr_QrA8hpMEssol1I8/s320/IMG_3593.JPG" /></a><br />Jordan has always wanted to catch a fish in his bare hands and this afternoon he finally got the chance. <div></div>Complete with a bit of a Halloween scare.<br /><br />I laugh every time I watch this video.<br /><br />Until next time, may all of your scares be pleasant ones!<br /><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwEXYvZFXBYILyY4-aC00BIx62JdNBTeJlBaUYqgejEsrdqdJX_9adCgdtKDl9maedw84SqMaCTQftbAYun9g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-89761498737472296492009-03-03T20:22:00.000-08:002009-03-03T22:20:57.481-08:00Spring Frolic and Romp<div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2g-KxdQOTVQrA1CLUDmqD7v3CAEb0z2U-23hNzJCb73cQkZWC-dsQshHbePv_TQHH09gas99teefkgag47twvLwu7d7MrkoKtULq9DTQZw8hxU8z17QOKTo2H3nxHqA8g73lerj3cTRtX/s1600-h/IMG_2121.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309183684483913330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2g-KxdQOTVQrA1CLUDmqD7v3CAEb0z2U-23hNzJCb73cQkZWC-dsQshHbePv_TQHH09gas99teefkgag47twvLwu7d7MrkoKtULq9DTQZw8hxU8z17QOKTo2H3nxHqA8g73lerj3cTRtX/s320/IMG_2121.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />This is one of the twins born as a surprise back in December. He and his brother are the oldest and largest lambs in the flock and are teaching the younger ones to romp and frolic.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309184433344375426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqcoVj6kP_fZcoUShEbkXYfpxeL4RVETP3Ua3b9RgUGBmJxDYnEAjTZ3R8uyYpIT4IcX5daYf5ZyCORxBnFSRYcRfBNgZ5Op0Py_fHa-WYBK8r5ZMXBbAdtOXPcdr2zEc4dWJRte1nZIdI/s320/IMG_2143.JPG" border="0" />The black lamb with white markings on her face and all four feet off the ground up on top of the hill is one of quadruplets. She is the smallest of the three survivors, but is doing well. We have been keeping an eye on her and attempted to supplement with milk for a while. Even through I knew she was hungry from her cries, she had her own opinions on that nasty tasting rubber nipple that did not remind her of mama at all and refused to drink. It takes a while to wait a lamb out and if they are hungry enough they will eventually decide to take the bottle even if it doesn't look or smell like Mom. Warm milk being dribbled down a hungry baby's throat is a pretty convincing tool. This stubborn little girl never did concede to the bottle, so I stopped trying after she was about 3 weeks old. By then she was nibbling hay and I figured she was obviously getting enough grub to get by. Her growth rate did not match her siblings, and she could have been a little plumper, but she wasn't crying like when she was younger, so I stopped putting us both through the tortuous milk dribbling ritual.</div><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309184812617210594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh67vh2-1r6r4UeKOUVuk2M1sfoSWmDvLSqOUP7THDOr7NCx7vmMdtyW4zZfHBErnhUPclK0WGqB7G_CCpnYIf1ocZn7Qk-YJDJloq8H6CgR1KgUbHm35Ulm7IqFZNFp_FNixIU8gApmpLH/s320/IMG_2144.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div></div><br /><p>And down they go! They love to race down off of this hill, over to the next one, around, and around, over and over, leaping, and jumping.</p><br /><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309185548685405026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZBMLrXZGEh1KroWoKSbIMqFh3Wt4SrtKM0WFls6H4wruOMKvDlAf8zcSx-IC281hq0rKiAaNDjHca3Z3Yjy6nYN6fAoinG9u-nZeH9tu9rrSxVrT58LqVmMz-eYVIWMQgQYrteVmDMLvI/s320/IMG_2149.JPG" border="0" /></p><br /><p>Oh what a beautiful morning!</p><br /><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309205975301651170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGs1GruOahyVRW-5_hPbndy1bW6EysXDX4R6Cq8fxihPErH8JemKEE-NNlkStC2yFdOX-i_Y3K2M0xm611dq1OxhRWveRT0AoAghGnTDucg3nm6njk4C4FO1Ewi-mIWXS_4mPMxaqoqQ_w/s320/IMG_2145.JPG" border="0" /></p></div><br /><br /><br /><p>This is Daisy's lamb. He is the only one this year who was an only child - no siblings. There are 18 lambs all together, though, so he has plenty of cousins to play with.</p><br /><br /><p></p><br /><br /><p></p><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309206600122090034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfnDrm5pK0qEjFc5q1BEk2fsaPXwjcjcvfQ_u-cZi2jgsGBxa72uS8mO29WbPhMlStGevtPb2lhywo6en-XBV_eGp6Uj2xrCjhbqaaD_u9wzOIe6R9kN-3DI4pTQav6VqrZ5rHiRavoNMc/s320/IMG_2151.JPG" border="0" /></p><br /><br /><p>Slowing down.</p><br /><br /><p></p><br /><br /><p></p><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309207215097552610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9xHXL7tmLFfqm2x1PtEKHmBQBsEbi4TosW83gOwBvdI791zI4oS4vK5ZSq7Yw9VZC-DoTMubcCg87nonLKwMRjWYjnks9xOQoEhI6nKH8_hJc2SDNPTEdIAtqAPjZgUqMqWG6y6TYoxT0/s320/IMG_2152.JPG" border="0" /></p><p>Getting tired.</p><p> </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309209683562545922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmFmvT8kJZEaR1_hOhT0vqNuwRMSJKUMhNbYgHXQBtaFBmSmiqc9xxQQJeOGDyNSaOseIFaO8NTPy9GpSPz1_AbbBZIyjgMENXS7uBw6IXECo-SKNLjHlmFmcZumI2Bm7915olc3l59bbi/s320/IMG_2165.JPG" border="0" /> Nap time. I believe this ewe is the mother of the quadruplets. She still looks pregnant with that big old tummy! She and her sister look quite a lot alike, both are three years old now. One was born to Daisy and the other's mom was Ivy, but we switched ear tags and now I am not sure which one is which. Daisy's daughter was Pansy and Ivy's Holly. I am pretty sure it was Holly who had the quads. Ivy had triplets last year and raised them to maturity without any help at all. She is a very good mom. We have <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">actually</span> culled out all of the ewes who were not good mothers now and have kept all of the good moms and easy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">lambers</span>. It sure made lambing season go a lot smooher this year.</p><p> </p><p>Until next time, may you find time to frolic and romp in the spring sunshine.<br /></p>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-4359157359522297732009-02-28T18:26:00.000-08:002009-02-28T21:31:11.798-08:00Coon Dog<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Iyg3QLBUy-pkDUVIpYjVZ4AlwEQfXOLr5IQPnAIIa_pZn08NOToXFxnVL-M8tIr6EfWDEiOCieDuEUuYAUB2T7Tmjb9_ee8wS3_pj2rRoxIToNj_0MNsG0uhSZuG9CMu-xMQSBHNGYYn/s1600-h/IMG_2121.JPG"></a> Taking a walk through the woods this morning, Roxy discovered a tempting scent. We hurried to catch up to her frantic barks.<br /><br /><br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNGkE2-VsyXCnV9D25aefAFFpdD3Rd_hIsnUTetkwh9V3OHT-EirLKsddkxoMYkD5Eb00fYlVjeO8ahTu61mqmbM2sgZBL6hPDMLxT828nUcZFFoh-3HilWleicFY0xAU6Qr8VmmvaR9ch/s1600-h/IMG_2102.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308041063481738722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNGkE2-VsyXCnV9D25aefAFFpdD3Rd_hIsnUTetkwh9V3OHT-EirLKsddkxoMYkD5Eb00fYlVjeO8ahTu61mqmbM2sgZBL6hPDMLxT828nUcZFFoh-3HilWleicFY0xAU6Qr8VmmvaR9ch/s320/IMG_2102.JPG" border="0" /></a> Look, I found a critter! It's right here, under this log.<br /></div><br /><div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308041658349050242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhuVg7zh52KUcH8OFD4mtLchuB61seAjfAZNo48vRXsT8DfM88qYHJi5mOSzB23UdntU2dBE8W-khRefXyjdRC9G1t8Zl6Aq-EhbKCdUs24mnLmgZG4RN5cC4uY4J0Z1MIUDvnqrvscGPd/s320/IMG_2107.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">OOOOOH</span>, it is in here. Come on guys, let's tear this log apart!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308046448617189506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhho_T6b-Qld0pwWSm0hiBu47fYUdeC7ZJ-Dl4yOUOkGDN1_Z2YB__VP5IHaRYQMLst9ymPFAbMmEcEoXGkWkCqdPL65n3KDltK8ulOxHr_vyRYp3wb61FbLZtBAS7UNGLGzNMMCteb6DLM/s320/IMG_2111.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div>Okay, it is growling awfully fiercely. But can't I please tear the log apart?</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div></div></div><br /><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308046741251576146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRfp2ZaJh5Nem9UeHfnhYiZEtm-rKpmZri_o5-3BqnXNX3_XzBF5yefGEnOYEdqzmYqbIYZIFI1HDpzhKhUuymKMkX_1GVDzkhdgyad9gaSI4f5Izs-mAEWVyu_gt0MFIHmvlCKchnOMbg/s320/IMG_2114.JPG" border="0" /></p><br /><br /><p>We can go home now, all that barking and digging made me tired and it is just a small coon anyway.</p><br /><br /><p></p><br /><br /><p>We are thankful to see Roxy feeling so frisky as she was a pretty sick dog about 3 weeks ago. We were hoping for some puppies from her, but instead she contracted a serious infection. She was droopy and not herself, but we had no idea how sick she was. The vet said if we had waited another day to bring her in, he probably would not have been able to save her. She had to be spayed, so no puppies, and the treatment was expensive, but Roxy says she is worth it. She also says we should let her sleep on the couch, but I have to draw the line somewhere!</p><p> </p><p>Until next time, may someone love you enough to let you sleep on the couch!</p>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-2894144651697800792009-02-01T07:52:00.000-08:002009-02-01T10:24:58.980-08:00O Brother, Where Art Thou?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQM4jPdX6h3FmWK74wbqG2OVlgpmKruHcFSjxHfJajhS_5nq3yMOfa_TMDvpVzXG7cfoq6g4N16VD7S5C2ojeelVWjrxsl_0GesuIXQpa5xPwljrm3T2uoyTeluzJS35Xh96zX08vSE5oI/s1600-h/IMG_2059.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297873222251114834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQM4jPdX6h3FmWK74wbqG2OVlgpmKruHcFSjxHfJajhS_5nq3yMOfa_TMDvpVzXG7cfoq6g4N16VD7S5C2ojeelVWjrxsl_0GesuIXQpa5xPwljrm3T2uoyTeluzJS35Xh96zX08vSE5oI/s320/IMG_2059.JPG" border="0" /></a> The inseperable brothers have been cut from each other. At about 3:30 this morning, I awoke to a loud squawk coming from the front yard fence and immediately jumped out of bed, flung open the door and knew some dirty dog was stealing one of my pets. I slipped on a robe and slippers as it was quite brisk out of doors, and went on a starlit hunt. One Barred Rock rooster came running toward me through the front yard, so I was a bit relieved to see him and sent our dog, Roxy, out on the trail of the other, heading up the hill behind the house. At one point she must have run into the fox as she let out a warning bark and set out on a chase. I was hopeful with all of the commotion, the fox might drop the rooster as his plump frame must have been quite the burden for a delicate fox, but alas, we followed for a bit and no such luck. It has been my experience that a fox will usually snatch a bird, carrying it off to kill in a safer location farther from the house and barn. Chickens struggle only briefly, then resign themselves to the inevitable and I have recovered chickens from foxes by scaring the fox into dropping the bird with the chicken having only minor wounds, recovering fully. I continued to call for a time, hoping to hear the answering cluck coming from under a sagebrush, but eventually returned to the house, half frozen. The remaining rooster was sitting in the middle of the yard, so I carried him to the porch, felt for any injuries, and finding none, perched him on the porch near my bedroom door. In the past, the brothers would sometimes be diligently scratching for bugs and tasty morsels throughout the yard and find themselves lost from one another's sight on opposite sides of the house. They would crow to each other until they were together again, happily scratching and preening side by side. All roosters fight each other at times, but I never saw these two get into a scuffle. They were together constantly. In the picture posted above, he had just crowed and was waiting and listening for an answer from his brother, but all he heard were crows from the barn banties. He must walk into the dawn of a new day alone, with only memories to sustain him. And with a chicken, that won't be long.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297881158360060594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHfmJt29udXbqR-qBLS0F6YMxrmHK7OiSKRTijo74hIxGxMfns1PgRauKWeEUZqOEsyA-9W76vp_CEgVvXpupBxH_noDyK8wGZaI1GQJR4GB9H6o_5sTggHHCOZ-bw0h0-MVva1yxV878G/s320/IMG_1802.JPG" border="0" /> Happier times - cold weather, warm hearts.<br /><br /><br />Until next time, may you never walk alone.<br /><br /><div></div>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-59126453184143732112009-01-11T22:00:00.000-08:002009-01-11T23:09:20.514-08:00Gifts<div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0jlTY2PabEboxxTivpSL3vWQhc8He39_6WV9tzbSWNP71quyYq9E5rLT8UJJ3mx2xLwJEK_PMKid5znMe9t4jlVyeixemKFOBeffWM063ECwQmdPjdqDThakhpFwyySVcik2Xn8fyD9cE/s1600-h/IMG_2004.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290283451508964130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0jlTY2PabEboxxTivpSL3vWQhc8He39_6WV9tzbSWNP71quyYq9E5rLT8UJJ3mx2xLwJEK_PMKid5znMe9t4jlVyeixemKFOBeffWM063ECwQmdPjdqDThakhpFwyySVcik2Xn8fyD9cE/s320/IMG_2004.JPG" border="0" /></a> It has been difficult to get a good shot of the lambs as Salty is such a friendly mama and will be sniffing the camera before I can get it focused and clicked. She is really always looking for a handout and hoping I may be bringing her some treats! Here I caught her snuggling with her kids before she jumped up and came over for a scratch on the head. If you look closely, you can see just a bit of the black lamb laying right bihind her. He is snuggled up as close as he can get and the white lamb had been doing the same on her front side. They are growing like bad weeds and begining to play king of the mountain on the hill inside the sheep pen, jumping and twisting in the air on their way back to mama. So far they are still the only babies, but it looks as if there will be more soon.</div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290285203081388754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_woFPNmePW09qbCdcJlNFkmKR02WmYapRLMaabPtTN1YU-igqXGl73kzlKI-YPKGM1ke1Npx9s0jSsK_74_bPCjSduDlxCCrDYt9n_8jKlCLu0z6_kqA5nudmN9iqmbQpjfI8_VFfLMWp/s320/IMG_1998.JPG" border="0" /></div><div>I wanted to draw charcoal portraits of the kids for Christmas, and here are how they turned out. This one is of Taylor giving KP a well-deserved look. I named it "Uh-Huh". I intentionally left KP only sketched and did not fill in detail on him, so he is a bit hard to make out in this picture I took of the framed drawing. In the original, you can tell by the tilt of his head, he is trying to be sorry for whatever it is he has done now. Get him, Taylor!</div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290284770275801826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji0i6S7HHLhwr1D-1yUImaVwWLXZ7VSO0_j5HopKxDircaB5pySP6OVRZOjomqXCEZON_ODtmrw5N3lW16nJkztLN1OzdXLyExm_KQCtNAj5_TW83owLzYMReX_xGqIZekCyYfIhrhjqOw/s320/IMG_2000.JPG" border="0" />This is KP and Roland and I named it "My Way" as they each have an opinion on which way to go, and they are definatly not the same way! I think KP won as he appears to have the more determined look, but Roland is giving his opinion on the matter through his body language.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290284153317507810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnjeG5LXUXTsIX7OJoSLoc-rOPxZBipvfelUt7JZOxIe0icMh2tnokph3yGp-1d7-MjXKV9BTach6L_yMBxDfIeNmWsTEax9RC8fUr_vOdbkMxP1KMAuNMvavr2buubIIjosQuZHnFHkxQ/s320/IMG_2001.JPG" border="0" /></div><div>Jordan and Sebastian were coming to "An Understanding" here. Jordan is just cracking the whip as he asks Sebastian to begin moving into a circular lunge pattern. Sebastian is not sure he wants to comply and is giving Jordan the eye, but Jordan is standing tall and will only increase his request should Sebastian balk.</div><div> </div><div> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290285748293650450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVwGO05GEdyJlX2a5cF1Z8S_Dx17_2-tIywy3N9tpT6aIYE5zCmwlDMPdoMYV1_REu9f_OZX2ryTacj260lLuEcJsFtYDyIbKBkyl8fguLkciAiRGtgVDKmx2H4Z5C_HKZ2M68-OV7zAd1/s320/IMG_1992.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div></div><br /><p>I was pleased with the outcomes of the drawings and made them into notecards, along with the drawing I did in 2007 of the barn which I am using as the logo for my PawleyFarm site. I think I will name this notecard set 'Lessons' as Roland, Sebastian, and KP are all learning in these portraits and old barns always have lessons to teach if only we are quiet and listen. I will offer them on both the <a href="http://pawleyfarm.com/">PawleyFarm</a> site and my <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=5512272">Etsy shop</a>, which will be the most public I have ever gone with my drawings. A bit scary, but a bit more exciting! Taking the time to draw before Christmas made me realize how much a part of my soul that creative process is. Drawing is one of those activities where I am totally unaware of the passage of time. I don't even think about eating while in the midst of the thousands of decisions about where to put the next mark, how light, how dark to make it . . . . It can be enough to drive a body mad! Don't worry, I plan to keep both my ears attached to my head!!</p><p>Until next time, may you be blessed with a pursuit in which time flies in swift, sweet enjoyment and may you be sent the gift of time enough for this life-giving nourishment to feed your soul brimming full to the top.</p>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-73653381292296137002008-12-30T18:19:00.000-08:002008-12-30T18:57:00.120-08:00Surprise Arrivals<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgERQsuY6meer-vpjlYz5gjVDrwu6HIVgrjsu2XYjOjtwzX6fs8tjN1x0MHrNi_5id8xGnuKZFz94P3cKVIampvcgaDPbHOqiRLqbOHiX5fGAYnimHuPLKiBUgiX6d1Jr5u8vjGKW1oPYWM/s1600-h/IMG_1923.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285773618238891858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgERQsuY6meer-vpjlYz5gjVDrwu6HIVgrjsu2XYjOjtwzX6fs8tjN1x0MHrNi_5id8xGnuKZFz94P3cKVIampvcgaDPbHOqiRLqbOHiX5fGAYnimHuPLKiBUgiX6d1Jr5u8vjGKW1oPYWM/s320/IMG_1923.JPG" border="0" /></a>If you read my last post, you might remember I said the lambs were staying snug and warm in their mamas and we were not expecting any babies until the first part of February? </div><div>Apparently, Salty had a secret and somebody was sneaking around on the wrong side of the fence last summer! She had two nice, healthy, full-term ram lambs this afternoon. Come to think of it, Salty seems to be the early lamber every year . . .</div><div> </div><div>Salty is the sweetest ewe in the flock. She was raised on a bottle as a bummer lamb, and, like many of our animals, spent her first summer providing therapy to special needs kids at Western Trails Therapeutic Riding Center. Last Christmas, she performed at our church's Living Nativity, only to pop out a nice set of twins about 2 weeks later. Again, with no warning and unexpectedly early. Many of the ewes grunt and groan and look as if they are going to pop for weeks ahead of time, but Salty has always just snuck her birthing time in when we aren't looking. By the time we have found she has lambed, she has them cleaned and dried off and they have been up and had a bit of rich, nourishing milk. She has never needed any help with her babies, always knowing exactly what to do. Tonight I was watching her for a few minutes after I put her in the barn. The white lamb appears to have been born first and is figuring out the dinner thing pretty well, while the black lamb hasn't quite gotten it down yet. Salty kept talking to him and nudging him in the right direction until he found the dinner table. Oh, did his little tail wag in satisfaction as the rich, creamy milk warmed and strengthened his little body!</div><div> </div><div>I remember my father-in-law routinely tipping over every ewe and squirting a few drops of the rich colostrum into the baby lambs as that swallow or two would often make all the difference and determine if the baby would live or not in the harsh Wyoming cold. I am glad Salty is a good mama and I don't have to take her on in a wrestling match! Even though Salty takes great care of her babies, even wrapping them in a sheep hug by snuggling her large, wooly body as close as possible if it is cold out, all ewes should be penned up to bond with their little ones for a few days to eliminate any confusion as other lambs are born. Sheep are notorious for stealing other ewes' lambs, then forgetting their own. They also need a bit of molasses shortly after the birth to ensure their calorie count stays high enough to keep them healthy as they produce the extremely rich milk the newborns need to build their fat reserves.</div><div><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285774050451645090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3aj4lr1wPIyP9TyDfrgJd9vZa0xwC3B5akwKvVye5SbkTdiMPpLbuTCcbpT6BfrAPyclhaqfrJ2oSut571BhtdYbl8ubM6LIWSkyFD3tkruKcm_ObLvM79iM6jNuX8_U3tbjUwEag3Wk7/s320/IMG_1931.JPG" border="0" /></div></div><br /><p> </p><p>Hey, you don't suppose Salty got word of my last post and wanted to get in a good practical joke, do you? Or maybe she was just jealous of the cows with all of their new little bundles of joy?</p><p>Regardless of the reason, somebody was still doing a little bit of slipping around last summer, and sneaking in the dark will always catch up with you eventually!</p><p>Until next time, I hope your sneaking always turns out as a nice surprise!!</p>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-12591724024794520812008-12-29T09:41:00.000-08:002008-12-29T17:26:31.338-08:00A Blessed Season<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHbimAdBA_4W0q9_sLGIgoZHDT0dKKF_L3yKamh0jlQVcR5VsawrdVbgH04kVBE7_Do1vWCHpN2WcyiPzsPzUJKWrBJPWpRqNm00I6ry-6iChj4Gx2yOalIamCZDmob3JjwPZEmd0-lBzW/s1600-h/IMG_1846.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285269392204523666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHbimAdBA_4W0q9_sLGIgoZHDT0dKKF_L3yKamh0jlQVcR5VsawrdVbgH04kVBE7_Do1vWCHpN2WcyiPzsPzUJKWrBJPWpRqNm00I6ry-6iChj4Gx2yOalIamCZDmob3JjwPZEmd0-lBzW/s320/IMG_1846.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />The ice sparkled and glowed, adding extra cheer to Christmas this year. A white Christmas seems to be so much sweeter than does a brown. We often make do with brown over white, living in the Columbia Basin of Eastern Oregon, but have been blessed with two weeks of winter this year.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285357948139656802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYJhQHmOC4AehOvucRHphkGTVEBdFM7qSXPNtaHXiW5krNeUel75A5186kVulC5F4QuU5IqLDHPtt-mCpdUUYIsJ-8FccmV6oqkjg3-swetnM2l-a6vwSQbvmtw94TBDu7uNaZQ0KCpapE/s320/IMG_1849.JPG" border="0" />We had lows down as far as -10 and it snowed nearly every single day. Roads were closed, schools shut down as the drifts piled ever higher. The frantic pace of our everyday lives was suddenly interrupted. Mothers with young children played out in the snow instead of bundling babies off to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">daycares</span>. The snow angel population grew by leaps and bounds. The squeak of the snow underfoot tinkled like tiny enchanted bells. Gallons of rich, creamy hot <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">cholcolate</span> were consumed, toasting tummies from the inside out. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">woodstove</span> in our living room puffed and chugged along, warming many a backside and drying out snow pants and work boots.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285368027463772546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHgCdFN3sBUwYNuyB9HGDS_KZy7ZMLCJR86GrGkxVn7fU1EvBvNZtu_f9mzo99tfO2UP7racu4QUZPql4o9u8Iz-ev2Ms-rV0CxjcS3Lb6vgv5XJy5KKcH07UxDbWvJfmsBSmGMWEy19bL/s320/IMG_1765.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285355312232959154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik9D_RnnklhQoBcEl7iVUzMp_sdv51_KSwU5hGquVQ_vlDqDybgWZAZfXo-UHvTfBp6c-pAP92TVKoMqvsQChhLJT8TIrnBuMXUGoTOJjLmJJb8GSUKEd-2T2ETr577O9iRbsy-ir_EtV6/s320/IMG_1867.JPG" border="0" />Deer and antelope moved down from the higher country to eat alongside the cows.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285358376469171682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHCJIOMNYAj-x32DbvbBbw5z40zosVguaMe2m3R11hG_KCkJLVy7qnOBVtRxJGLvPl1_-kbLtrFp7lK9KuoOF0szhsn9Gyx7iiRiXpCvKjJij8Y-YUd6Xptns7xkS5tQ2MuNk2lSsDwO3k/s320/IMG_1856.JPG" border="0" />While the new lambs stayed warm and snug inside their mamas, not quite ready to be born yet, flurries of calves arrived along with the snow squalls.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285366837329897442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzlJ5AAgz8vKEtdD-tHhelUfDRNktTXC7FQZnNP0tYbzgCBYd1zAqfGIB5NmAYNWWuoMlRtDPpMzfe7Q8yEbmXPS1ATocTsdPqFEnHerqk2CION2ksgGyoOzZH0eAWq-xiM6Firw1XqJUF/s320/IMG_1781.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />The goats enjoyed their daily snow walks, but enjoyed more returning to their deep straw beds in the barn!<br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285367657472194322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieV5w446HhpGgUnkSWJdlGGPVz4yA0gjtVIKZwcw2yk7DfcLcThGvP4ds33M6nT_9VsLyVepcT1OLULRYbWtUkMlulZl0l4uyrijBSKxmiRVh-qNGpnKmDYygwMlqZ2688QRSCyFFSATAn/s320/IMG_1783.JPG" border="0" /><br />KP and Roland found a little time to play in the snow. Roland is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">KP's</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Unimog</span>, easily plowing through the chest deep snow they ran into back up the canyon, with never a slip due to being born out on the range to a wild and free mama Mustang.<br /><br />Roland and Jordan also got to help move cows down from the upper pasture a couple days after the canyon jaunt. I was unable to capture any photos as I rode Roland part of the way, then helped via 4-wheeler after I traded Jordan as riding bareback with the leg brace was proving to be a bit much. I have resigned myself to using the saddle next time as I can't get enough grip with the silly brace in the way. Pooh!<br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285370438583112898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTj-wGpdcj5uPusNNdu5ssQYQllntgK9MLwtGpxnvtXQ3ZNuCNQ4bvBCR7crDtCYT2vT_Wn8vaeBcvfPZG9gBaMqhmcf7Hz6JHBQ-GgBg85plI5IZGG4LFVRsa8NSimnUCxjFDetC3iZ1G/s320/IMG_1776.JPG" border="0" /><br />Elmer and Sebastian were content to much hay while Roland was off adventuring.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285382177009648978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl4gOji6H4_yLyIOJQE_DP0rZC_J9s5idHZZ03EKbTwMyVhaediGqF_CP2JkCWV6hYYQdets9p3uRN2NPk_UkdRrFrzTHtbbCx2nmej5UjbI11j1e4D4BghuGbpHjT0zU0cFoMs8tJPKGU/s320/IMG_1796.JPG" border="0" />Roxy had snowballs all over her body after following KP and Roland. Adventuring is great, but I do <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">beleive</span> she hears the call of the rug in front of the crackling <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">woodstove</span>!<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285354379253948386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2q5ifPYTtOxnjrPrzMGKf3biIoq0FI-kLqMUDXZxTSIu4IjVbgk5LAexWYwBcz9pR2lhh14dhHIX5u1KQMP8pPZFu75YT2PQih8r8BQjsK7Zs-r9rB6inA_1LuP1TymHbpiA7lC_M3tvT/s320/IMG_1800.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />All of the wise <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">banty</span> chickens moved into the barn to cozy up, but the silly Barred Rock roosters adamantly remained at their post, roosting on the fence rail in the front yard. For several days, we <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">dilligently</span> moved them over under the shelter of the the huge Douglas Fir tree, but, realizing they would not get down during the day, pity was taken upon them and they were moved onto the front porch along with feed and water until the storms abated. They soon found a favorite chair, but every couple of days would wade through the snow and roost again upon the freezing fence rail. Their combs are damaged from the cold, and one of the boys has lost some weight, but they have survived this round. Now to wean them from roosting on the front porch . . .<br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285358712684783842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1yigtD92GTL3Gp2HLrh1JkuE4s3b6pso3OCrjkP1v4tTx98jGrr6CDMd4KjH_jBvT_05sXQe97003FMW9_xxrC0-FMCiwcZXRWBab9_2CQLGVrNVeBOjCOck7hC5HZ1KpTwysD6jl9KE/s320/IMG_1876.JPG" border="0" /><br />We awoke Saturday morning to warm winds and dripping eaves as a Chinook blew in, bringing spring in the middle of winter.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285359127257266130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHqE4w_O-1X91S9Oo-4pGeCYx2x4ilxU6fvOhHhrTqlyWPyrMwmTSU7o-JxZf5kS7woSjabA553lh26uq3xGb25EkJhopVo9MJ4dXU4Ed4vH1_-e4MxZ1jCOZptqONfeEMECK6BDk9SgaB/s320/IMG_1900.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />By Monday morning, most of the snow had turned to mud on the ground, but had freshened the trees up nicely.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285359648280171602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9hL0BBLG8nJGo__HINzs3eaBeIUh6bQkzV4bcwqPQfswfkOCGNg9OS-WTySLnTX1F6LFDxjqWbB7eUQ-KVqKSBDTUghA0ZU4q314188eeXtULIiXEuBE1eRd3yeOwoYs2hm7m9JaWwZ8Z/s320/IMG_1882.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br />And the roosters were ecstatic to be freshening up with a good dirt bath. This guy kept turning around, throwing dirt up on himself, then would snuggle down into the good, brown earth as if he thought he may never see it again.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Hmmm</span> . . should we let him in on the forecast? Possibility of snow showers again on Thursday. We'll just let him enjoy his bit of springtime for now!<br /><br /><br /><br />Until next time, may all your seasons be blessed.Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-90089483443574604522008-12-26T16:02:00.000-08:002008-12-26T16:24:00.293-08:00Snow Trophies<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5n0kKTIdrPk0VzTLBb0CS4rNiDU1WKHiXDqTiaeiLa2WaGLlclgafcZiRFyOrPpR3FwgOYVY0Yi0alxQYzndtL9zbNTHuFEN9wJ2hUS4c4X_Jtj6UuRq2fCvwlPDQk3jou6JvFJyC6eL7/s1600-h/IMG_1836.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284255631639833522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5n0kKTIdrPk0VzTLBb0CS4rNiDU1WKHiXDqTiaeiLa2WaGLlclgafcZiRFyOrPpR3FwgOYVY0Yi0alxQYzndtL9zbNTHuFEN9wJ2hUS4c4X_Jtj6UuRq2fCvwlPDQk3jou6JvFJyC6eL7/s320/IMG_1836.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />It has been snowing nearly every day for two weeks now and has really dumped a lot on our litle banana belt of Oregon. Jordan has a new pickup which he has just been itching to try out in the snow, so it seemed like the perfect time to see what it could do. He, of course, was alone here on the farm that afternoon when he headed up the canyon behind the house. He followed the Rhino tracks for a ways, but even they soon ran out and still his pickup was plowing forward, albeit, somewhat slower than at the lower elevations. Before he knew it, he was just pushing too much snow and could no longer move forward. So he tried backing up, but, hmmm . . . Too late. He walked back to the house in the dark and the next morning, he and KP headed up to unstick him. KP was able to get him out with his pickup, but in the process, the deep snow pulled off both bumpers. My reaction would have been - OH No, my truck is broken! But the boys see it as an opportunity to make new bumpers!<br />Until next time, may you be blessed with the ability to see the opportunity in adversity.Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-91915278594386490732008-07-16T19:20:00.000-07:002008-07-16T21:51:23.975-07:00Preserves<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNWVoNIXZBSgzXBbH8LRqZ9Fy2KR0DkM_7gO7O_NbGUzvGuYYtpPvwvOV3vOXipRQfQBLRV9Sqp3O_4DYvpELBO5HXQl4yYaw10iC4jx5NLw7crPtC_KRkOh1zBqf6hlrmr_q3CB_S70Ey/s1600-h/IMG_0947.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223824406043499234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNWVoNIXZBSgzXBbH8LRqZ9Fy2KR0DkM_7gO7O_NbGUzvGuYYtpPvwvOV3vOXipRQfQBLRV9Sqp3O_4DYvpELBO5HXQl4yYaw10iC4jx5NLw7crPtC_KRkOh1zBqf6hlrmr_q3CB_S70Ey/s320/IMG_0947.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>The knee surgery I had the end of May put me out of commission much longer than I had anticipated, but am slowly regaining my strength and resuming daily activities. Many thanks to all who have faithfully been checking my blog, knowing I would return one day!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Jordan helped me can cherries last week and we put up 14 quarts of cherries and 16 jars of jam. Mmmm, I had to bake bread the next day just so we could have that delicious jam on fresh bread. It was so worth it! These were some of the best cherries I have ever had and came out of Benton City, Washington, which is located about 45 minutes away. I find it extremely satisfying to put up food for the winter this way and love to gaze upon the vibrant colors of the fruit jars lined up on the pantry shelves. As the summer wanes and the nights start to chill, I often feel this strange compulsion to stuff jars full of any produce I can lay my hands on and have experimented with some unusual recipes such as pickled watermelon and corncob jelly.</div><div> </div><div>I have strong memories of my grandmothers putting away food for the cold season and recall the dusty, apple-scented must of the fruit room in the cellar. My little girl eyes would shine with wonder as I contemplated the perfect jar of fruit to choose to accompany us at dinner, or the jar of pickles to take on the family picnic. I would remember the hot, sticky days of laughter as we picked fruit on a family outing, the yellow jackets causing shrieks from us kids as they competed with us for the sweet fruit. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches eaten in the grass of the orchard with cold, fresh water to wash them down. Faces stained with juice as we had eaten enough for a belly ache. Preserving food, preserving tradition, preserving memories. I am proud to carry on this family legacy.</div><div> </div><div>Until next time, may you be blessed with sweet traditions weaving the past with the present and tendriling on into the future.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div></div>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-15817364848892816952008-05-10T13:33:00.000-07:002008-05-10T14:57:03.294-07:00Bumper-Be-Gone<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGh1tpibb5LCcWRspC5cJsj2UaLClps9TAYXZX-IMT2OiFFo3VaJ3280ojx1ZrOI1QEizA6IL4PtLBAE0JDtlB9VQ6Zn4uw0ZohP1SCDu1cgVc4qQ7Iz5bHKhy61ePIEmrDCGMWUs5lmbB/s1600-h/IMG_0659.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198850826317238466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGh1tpibb5LCcWRspC5cJsj2UaLClps9TAYXZX-IMT2OiFFo3VaJ3280ojx1ZrOI1QEizA6IL4PtLBAE0JDtlB9VQ6Zn4uw0ZohP1SCDu1cgVc4qQ7Iz5bHKhy61ePIEmrDCGMWUs5lmbB/s320/IMG_0659.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Last Sunday afternoon started fairly quietly. The sheep had found (or created) a hole in the fence to allow them access to the lovely new wheat. Jordan was away at fire training in Sisters, Oregon, so the rest of the family pitched in and helped chase them into a holding pen until some fence repair could be done.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198853094059970770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdEP6C3JakJYI17diUCsdPfd2eRMXyvtPd88DwYNCoa99w0ctDjoroojnJa_xgLabm_r8kXhfmgTBH_BbqrnYAPL4Xt5LBJPC1_9WjIDakbXAmV0tk9j6n-yZsTyX6_Am2esgqZAJbCO9M/s320/IMG_0671.JPG" border="0" />The guys were itching to go four-wheeling, so as soon as the sheep had been secured, we headed down to the woods. This picture had been preceeded by one of those "should we, or shouldn't we?" moments. The question is answered here- we did, but maybe shouldn't have!</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198855808479301858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-j3ShU2mA8z-E3fma3_h2Wdkgfzr2Qzv_7lAmOOKGzWbesnnR__MQuLQD-wZg6zjQ9m99wAcIXKm2e_Rd1UPG2petOrju9UXafb2i18SRCgFHMVhBHEkWSJn5_fdO1U4-jqDNF9XQsUu/s320/IMG_0674.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p>This is what happens when you get stuck as good as we were. Yes, it is the rear bumper off of Mike's little Ranger pickup. KP was making decent, but slow, progress pulling the Ranger out, when suddenly, POP, off came the bumper, flying through the trees like a trout on a line. Tammy is such a sport, enjoying the humor of the situation. Little did she know that when KP and Taylor headed back to get the caterpillar to help out, they would get stuck too and Tammy ended up having to run the come-along to pull the Ranger out. She was not comforatable trying to drive the pickup (and the hip-deep water on the driver's side was also a deterrent), so she stuck with the hard labor. Poor girl, I am sure she had to have someone else comb her hair for her the next morning as she probably could not raise her arms! Mike, good husband that he is though, continually shouted encouraging words through the open window!</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198858956690329842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh03WcmgKC6DWEnski_azdVfmF_0gRzJIfIl9jmfyTi2-2SLQL_mEEIRhOxKbjkVWcda_JP0cQ9-xuIenL2No1qh-QJU9hk73WhAv5WTlYDj7LCfd4W-pdP2rIY0aATOe5VD4YTDJXfu6ys/s320/IMG_0675.JPG" border="0" />Okay, next time we will . . . .<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198859695424704770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg24prmXQQtE5JLKs7LrYVNq3eHCYSfya3mL8plxFhYd_HcDIp7Y0t-1bNBUXEU4LJh7aEojLI-I7B09wgJSvcgwQns7HxFLiRKE9kzmOBYulm7Dhn4HtagygtcQcgtVDgMVEVnVb9NN399/s320/IMG_0676.JPG" border="0" /><br /></p>And I wasn't a whole lot of help, stuck inside the truck with a bum leg, either.<br />But a short three hours after we started on our 30 minute adventure, everyone was safely back up at the house, eating cake and watching the bumper-be-gone video amongst hoots of laughter!!<br />Until next time, may all your misadventures end in good humor.<br /><br /><br /><br />A big thanks to Taylor, who shot most of the pics and got this video, too!<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxNLeNYxzefJiche_P2ZBIWWlSp9wMPyDttUg7zJBTE3EhdDKUX3zH6HiaBArSthWwd0m9-WBOA5XUPR8owZQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-255556130617294911.post-52527002087740655942008-04-30T17:29:00.000-07:002008-04-30T21:05:38.940-07:00FarmBoy Prom<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycMWt2OAqgKmxlVWOjfbIgJPVmzu_6b8-rgf0dU9MPOixSz046MMKR3FahxguaAPmgJVceos0g7WxTjmraPdNa9q0BX_fimk4IsFvQXjoavHlm-uqVQAlcZpmZeOG-lIKsBq_UnCoCNdw/s1600-h/Jordan+and+Alex+right+side+up.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195253831473437410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycMWt2OAqgKmxlVWOjfbIgJPVmzu_6b8-rgf0dU9MPOixSz046MMKR3FahxguaAPmgJVceos0g7WxTjmraPdNa9q0BX_fimk4IsFvQXjoavHlm-uqVQAlcZpmZeOG-lIKsBq_UnCoCNdw/s320/Jordan+and+Alex+right+side+up.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div>All dressed up and ready for a night on the town, Jordan's senior prom - Woooo-Hoooo! Jordan looks very handsome and Alex is gorgeous in her ivory gown. It was quite chilly on this evening, but I hear it was warmer inside the dance! The handsome couple had reservations at the Bonefish Grill in Tri-Cities before the festivities.</div><br /><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195206994855074466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYQs8z1g3OwkRNlMZFSKzLtGTNiDt_RxhrfuVR2PpDFsYAxClhNCP3dOssPWNX3l6PT2Ayvb0ZS8XHJ7pMQDKACWvOdbCeWrCiF2G-J84voPDXhIdHQt0ju6sKSuf49XI2rw-TyEW9mmqr/s320/IMG_0595.JPG" border="0" /><br />And they are out of the gate!</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195208133021407922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTpu1SphaTM6kLOUELUPvp6Clb0AmI77ilDPm6vEX_yH4Neg9yPfTsGwT9kg0DI0B7W6-l9rBVYjumA8V7wtY3m3aWE64jGzOn4iR0w6eTu7UnfTyYpUpOvfX_9REV4726_jW64oUv-Us/s320/IMG_0596.JPG" border="0" /><br />Well, he is polite and opens her door for her, but that pickup sure is dirty. Chivalry is still developing!</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195209825238522562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3aeX4HuaSs2jS1vZqJ1-v32Hg-2fCCWRgvoCvTt9traEzt6FyNVur2vNk5yJmr4K-R1YiN563lxhyR0Tas2Mz2kcK-SPPtiLNopsejlssVh1_bhV3QnexxO5H-Iq9_PCM-_wklekpleeK/s320/IMG_0598.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><div>Oh, no - what is this? Alex waits in the truck while Jordan races to shut the gate before the sheep get out!<br />Don't worry, they made it to their dinner reservations on time and the night went off without a hitch, despite this minor detour as a country boy tries to get to prom without mussing his clothes, or the lady's! Everyone at dinner was polite and made only small mention to the slight scent of sheep poo wafting up from someone's shiny black shoes!<br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11227180251611238641noreply@blogger.com7