Cindy Ray looks like QuasimoGoat because she had gotten disbudded the day before.  Her eyes are thankfully no longer swollen. I know there are a lot of people out there who want to potty train dwarf goats.  I know this because my STATS function coughs up a surprising number of Google generated hits with those key words.  Let me take this opportunity to make something perfectly clear:

Goats belong in barns and not in the house.

1. You cannot toilet train a goat.  (This coming from a woman whose babies were no longer pooing in diapers by 4 months of age, remember).
2. If your goat comes to think it’s a puppy or a member of the family, WHEN the time comes you no longer want it in the house, it’s going to have a serious adjustment problem when introduced back to other goats.  That little bit of entertainment gleaned from having a goat in the house would be nixed 10 times over. Goats are farm animals and not pets. Making your farm animals into pets is a mistake in my opinion. A pony sized horned and hoofed animal (a.k.a. BUCKY the Chief Jerk of JerkCity) with a sense of entitlement, even if benevolent, is a physical threat to children and adults alike. For the sake of the animals and the people in your life, keep your farm animals where they are happiest. (Pooing freely on fresh grass).

And so why is my goat in the house?

1. Bandage change and wound wash in the sink in the house which has (a few) less flies than the goat shed.
2. Hilarious one off photo opportunity.
3. To annoy my husband.

We move them about the pasture in giant chicken tractors.  They are protected from predators, but get fresh grass and the pleasure of eating all the bugs they can catch.  If they were free range, they would be free food for the foxes, cougars, coons and wandering farm dogs.  They would also burn a lot of extra calories, making feed to meat conversion less efficient and less cost effective.  Being on grass reduces their feed intake some and I think it makes for happier birds.

(I recently saw “vegetarian eggs” recently.  Some food for thought for anyone thinking this more humane: if the chicken is not able to eat a bug, it is not outside.  Also, chickens LIKE to eat bugs.  If you think that’s gross, that’s really just too bad.)

The path of destruction in their wake is quickly replaced by beautiful lush green turf.

There are 50 chickens in each pen. They get moved out into the tractors around 3-4 weeks of age.  I move a cooler of feed along with them, so I don’t have to worry about coons getting to the food.  (They seem to be able to undo all securing mechanisms on garbage bins).  I also bought an extra hose this year so I can bring the hose pretty close to them, instead of having to haul multiple jugs of water back and forth every time I do chores.

We raise “Special Dual Purpose” chickens from a local hatchery.  They are a bit slower growing than say, a White Mountain.  I have heard from people who raise those that you always know when they’re “ready” because their legs start to break and their hearts stop.  Lovely.  This is what happens when you mess so heavily with genetics.  The birds we raise grow a bit faster than “Heritage” breeds.  We have raised a few of those, and while they were very nice birds and actually acted like chickens and not chicken breasts, we wanted a little bit more bang for our buck.

BUCK-ACK!

Don’t know why I waited so long to buy a pair of work overalls, but holy crap.  They had them on sale at the TSC this week and am I ever thrilled.  Now I don’t have the poo of the 7 different types of animals we have at our farm on my pants!  Novel!

Suki is penned up in the maternity ward as we wait for her to kid.  Everything is racing along at full speed.  Animals, children, life.

Very busy.  Enjoying having our WOOFER.  Chickens are acting like chickens.  Turkeys are acting like, well, turkeys.  Pigs are learning to come to kissy noises.  Bucky the goat has been impersonating a pony.  Suki is due to kid the end of June and we’re going to start prepping the maternity ward soon.  Making cheese.  Eating berries.

Speaking of berries, any Kincardine area folks looking for organic strawberries at half the price of grocery store fare, please visit my neighbour Alan Jantzi.  If you are on HWY 21, turn inland at the 5th Concession at the Beefway.  Drive about 10 clicks down.  Look for Jantzi on the mailbox on the left side of the road, but his farm is the one set back on the right.  They are Amish, and the farm across the street is also Amish.  If you hit the Bervie sideroad, you’ve gone too far.

We name them because animals who are filled with love taste better.

We need to think names though, so here are a list of final qualifiers.  Please feel free to suggest others.

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To think these animals are still alive.  To think, this is day 45 and yet only the beginning.

When are we going to consume less?  When is government going to recognize the importance of small, sustainable and safe energy production?  What of this world will be left for my children?

I have been gardening my face off. Trying to keep my mother’s day fruit trees alive, so far so good.  Scott tells me if I kill this lot, they’re the last. I am now fretting over some rusty looking spots on one cherry tree and some brown dead leaf tips on the plums.  The black bugs have eaten my pak choi already and almost all of my heirloom tomatoes got frostbite and I’ll be shocked if they make it.  And they’re not even in the ground yet, heavens.  Nature does abhor a garden, Michael Pollan you are right again and again.

Below is a picture of Scott holding the Meeps after running his first 10k.  Have I mentioned how insanely, rabidly proud I am of him?

I haven’t been running races, but I have been running my tail off.  Made lotion specifically geared towards tattoo healing.  Appears to be working great on my back and Scott’s ribs, which are both seriously soaking up some nice black ink.  Made the most delicious ice cream the other day.  After multiple failed attempts to get the whipper snipper started, I found a Gerry Can of gas and some oil and managed to get our push mower to start.  Cutting grass so tall you could bale it means the mower bogs down and stops.  While it fires up in a couple hard pulls, after what was surely at least a hundred cranks on it, I can hardly use my right hand.  At least the edges of our lawn look beautiful now.  Fixed the giant gates on our back pasture so I could put the new four month lambs out with the goats.

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again.  Sheep sound like people making sheep noises.  Honestly.

Our goats are being nicer to them than I thought they would be.  I thought it was going to be 9 goats chasing 2 lambs in endless circles around the shed.  So far the majority of the butts they’ve received (and there have not been many) have been from the Nubian/Boer babies who are the lowest on the totem pole.  Like somehow the other goats higher up the totem pole are too important to be bothered with the business of these new stupid sheep.

I am posting the following picture because I have had several people tell me to ” just plant trees” when I talk of neighbours installing multiple industrial wind turbines beside our property.  Unless I am transplanting a fleet of Mighty Sequoias, no tree is going to buffer us from the 100+ meter tall turbines.  We are having a public information night at the local Davidson Centre June 24th with speakers starting at 7pm.  Please any Kincardinites, mark this on your calendar and attend.  These things are not green and they are not safe.  Optioned, contracted, or just curious, this information night is for everyone.

Here are the children playing in a pile of topsoil.  The Eisen lads cleared the topsoil off the spot where we put the 20×24 foot pad our playset sits on.  The kids love that topsoil.    And I love having the Eisens over.  These guys are punctual, polite and hardworking.  They are also quite attractive and well, it is summer… so Kincardine housewives, you know who to call for any landscaping needs, OK?  You will not regret your decision, I assure you.

Here’s Bob doing a crazy monkey dance in front of the pig tractor Scott built today.  And the kids pretending to be pigs inside of it.  And one of a few dozen handfuls of grass the kidlets deposited in it.  Thank you Richard for your innovative and afforable design!

I am reading Will Ferguson’s Beauty Tips from MooseJaw.  I got the book because (1) Bob loves the word MooseJaw thanks to Alligator Pie and (2) it’s about Canada, eh.  While I find his humor a little soft in spots, I have to admit I am inspired to do the following: (A) read more of his titles including Bastards and Bonehads, Canada Glorious Leaders Past & Present  (B) go to Churchill and have a polar bear encounter before we kill them all.

I am getting into taking  Vega.  Scott has been taking it.  It’s pretty incredible.  It is spectacularly full of of vitamins and minerals, vegan, gluten & soy free and here’s the best part: it doesn’t taste like you are cleaning our your child’s fishtank with your mouth.   At least, the berry flavour doesn’t taste that way.  Scott would go so far as to call it “delicious”.

I am going to go to bed now.  And try to sleep through the BAA-ING that is going on practically underneath my window.  Wish me luck, eh.

Hoping to incorporate a Blessingway for Meeps during her 2nd birthday party in June.  Have yet to pitch this idea to the appropriate people, but hopefully it’s full of just as much love and light as is conjured up on May Day.  Except maybe… with fireworks.

We’re gearing up to full swing here.  Kids have been really great about the garden this year.  Last year I planted with a toddler trouncing every seed and an infant strapped to my chest, so this year seems like a treat already.  The kids play in their dirt pile, in the muddy pasture, on their swingset.  The come and plant a few seeds, stick mostly to walking down row paths and have done a great job of staying out of the front flower bed.

On the farm front, I suspect that at least one of our two goats was bred successfully on their WinterGoatAdventure with Buford the Smallest Buck in the History of Bucks.  I initially thought neither were bred, but Suki seems to be showing a bit of an udder forming.  I am hopeful.  This Saturday I am due to pick up 2 lambs from a neighbour.  On Monday, 100 baby chicks come.  On June 5th we pick up 2 Berkshire piglets.  On June 7th our farm help arrives.  On June 8th a number of turkeys come, either one or two dozen, I cannot remember.  Have not made cheese yet.  Am hoping to get cracking on that once the farm gal arrives.

I believe chickens and turkeys are all spoken for, but if anyone wants late fall HappyPork, HappyGoat or early winter HappyLamb, drop me a line.

I have heaps of photos to post.  Including the process made thus far on my Kali backpiece.  And my hunk of a husband crossing the finish line of his first 10K road race, the day before his 35th birthday.  I couldn’t be more proud of my man.

And I couldn’t love my children more.  Seriously, how beautiful are these kids.

I nearly forgot!  Miss Meeps!  She’s now 100%, officially, not shitting you WEANED.  That’s right.  Weaned.  She’s had one full week of NotOneDropofBooby and we’re not going back.  I am very sad, as I will never nurse another baby.  I loved nursing, despite the repeat and horrifying mastitis; the nipple biting; the shirt ripping; the non-stop nursing only while I stood and rocked (Bob); the being tethered to my child by my breasts 24/7 thing.  But it was natural, powerful, healthy for both of us and one of the best things I have ever done as a woman, or could do for my child.  I had thought I would nurse her until 2-3 years.  It was a selfish decision.  But it was the right time for me.

I will no longer turn into a pumpkin at 8pm.  I am now free to do such amazing things at bedtime such as: hanging with farm animals, reading quietly in low light and listening to frog music.  Hoping to add some interaction with friends.  Novel.

The 3 cherry trees and 2 plum trees were dug into the garden yesteday.  This years collection of raspberry canes were planted too.  (Last years 2 cherry trees and all of our canes died).  Hoping for a better year this year!  I figure if each year I kill slightly less than the year before, well, it’s a raging success.

Maggie’s Super Amazing Amauti Style Parka came yesteday.  It was meant for her birthday, but I wanted to try it on her in case we wanted to send it back to the seller for alterations.  Not needed.  But… I can’t get her out of it!

Scott put both children to sleep by himself for the first time last night.  When I snuck back into the house I expected him to be consoling himself with single malts, but he said everything was… FINE!  Not one single tear.  Maggie just curled into him and went. to. sleep.  AMAZING.  (Caitlin, here I come!)

And what did I do with myself you ask?  On my monumental First Night Out of the House Past Bedtime Alone in Nearly Four Years?

I went to my girlfriends barn.  Where we hawk-eyed her MamaGoat for signs of labor and watched her pigs have sex.

Yeah, I sure know how to have a good time.