Family Portrait

Ursa is from one of the most beautiful Caucasian Ovtcharka families I've seen. Here's a partial family album; all of these dogs are over 12 at the time of the pictures.

Stately Blanche, mother

Ilka, proud sister

Ursa, wanting only belly rubs

Brother Slava, the largest of the litter and one of the most beautiful

Pramarla

Pramarla the horse. This wonderful work of art was constructed by my Aunt and Uncle, Win and Doug Kraatz, in Queensland, Australia. Doesn't it make you want to hop on for a ride?

Ain't Nobody Here But Us Chickens

There ain't nobody here at all
We chicken's tryin' to sleep

And you butt in
And hobble, hobble hobble hobble
It's a sin
(complete lyrics at LouisJordan.com)

The Rochester crew. All of these birds originally came from a farm in Rochester, WA. They seem delighted to be together again. My hen turkey has seemed depressed for a while, and now her friends have come she's fine again. The lovely Seabrights gather 'round the water cooler like workers in an office.

The Golden Seabright cock. Isn't he a beauty? He accidentally ended up in the bird building with the big Rhode Island Reds, and isn't at all sure of why he's there.

The Ducks Learn To Fly

It started with wing flapping as they left the shelter in the morning, and getting their feet a few inches off the ground. Soon they were up on the tree stumps and cages. This flying is fun stuff!

Now I find them on the roof, or their favorite place, the top of the van. I could wish for a better favorite place. They are big birds now, and sleep outside. They haven't yet discovered the pond. I hope I'm around when they do.

The Guardians

(Nobody's mentioned to Squeak that LGD stands for Livestock Guardian Dogs)

Go Fish

Last week I bought two dozen feeder goldfish to see if fish can survive in my pond. Somehow I never really recognized how large my pond is until I released those 24 fish into it. They immediately disappeared. I didn't see them again until today.

These fish are wary; good for their survival, not so good for picture taking. They stay near the center of the pond, moving away from any activity or dog barks.

I spent quite a bit of time watching them, trying to count them. Suddenly I saw a white flash and heard a very large splash. This guy came over to sunbathe near me.

Several dragonflies did flyovers, but they aren't particularly easy to photograph either. If you look closely one is resting on the stick by the pretty blue flowers.

Experienced Farm Hands

Will Work For Room and Board
Our experienced work crew provide needed services for the busy farmer.

Work Supervision

Quality Assurance

Insect Control and Soil Aeration

Cleanup of hoof stock shelters

Rock-a-bye Baby

I try to keep hens with chicks in a shelter at night, but one hen refused to oblige. I never could find where she spent the night. Then last week I was walking under the trees at dusk and heard the distinctive sound of happy chicks. I looked up.

The Peahen, on the other hand, gladly comes into a shelter every evening. The chicks have recently grown enough to fly up to the high perch.

Chickie Update

Berna the ASD showed what might have been protective interest in our new resident.

But I wanted the chick to have a well-rounded family upbringing. I rounded up the hen with the youngest chicks and put them all in a cage. I then introduced the still-uncoordinated chick. Everyone showed interest again, and soon the chick was warmly ensconced under the hen with the other chicks.
The family is now out in the world and doing well. It looks like my valiant chick will get her way and thrive.

I'm Here!

This spring I tucked a large dog crate behind a stump, filled it with straw, and used a fiberglass panel to keep rain and dogs out. My hope was the chickens would find this an attractive place to lay eggs - a place where I could find and collect those eggs.

The chickens loved it. Soon I was finding 4 eggs a day laid in a neat nest. Then time got away from me, and when I checked for eggs I found a protective hen guarding the egg stash. Soon I found my young duck was spending nights there with the hen. Having been raised by a dark hen, she tends to think of all dark hens as mom. Ducks, it seems, want to keep the family unit in tact longer than hens do.

Thursday morning I saw the hen out, followed by 4 fluffy balls. I went up to clean out the rest of the eggs, and found another hen fiercely guarding the nest. Yesterday that hen was importantly leading her 3 fluff balls around, fending off anyone who came too close.

Once again I checked to see if I could now get in to clean. There were still almost a dozen eggs in the damp and messy crate, but no feisty hens. I was about to remove the eggs when I heard a very load peeping. I got out and looked behind the crate, thinking that one of the new family had gotten stuck, but the peeping had stopped. I crawled back in (this is a huge crate), and a baby chick again loudly announced her presence.

It took Jesse (Samoyeds are quick to respond to bird calls for help) and I several more minutes to figure out that the chick in distress was still in an egg. Only one egg was calling. It had a very small hole pecked out, and was completely cold - but very noisy. The chick had taken the movement and warmth from my hand as a positive sign. I'm here, she said, and I want out. I carefully pulled away the shell, and a damp and noisy chick pushed out. I gathered up the remaining eggs and place them and the chick under a heat lamp.

This did not satisfy my latest farm resident for long. She wanted to be held, to feel a heart beating above her. Here's a chick wanting a mom, I thought, and out there is a hen mothering a small flock. Let's get them together.

Mom was most interested in the new chick in distress. She came right over, and started making a huge display of finding food and teaching chicks to eat. The other 3 were running around happily pecking at anything mom found. The new kid just wanted to cuddle up and sleep. Finally mom settled down on top of the still-damp baby.

I came back to check on progress about a half hour later. Mom was just walking off with her original chicks, and the littlest babe was flat on the ground. She was fine, just a bit cold and still wanting cuddling.


So she spent the night cuddled up to a hot water bottle, inside a thermal bag. This morning she's dry, fluffy, and still in need of a mom. I'm going to try her again with a momma hen. It's been raining for a week now, so keeping her warm and dry will be a challenge - unless the hen and chicks adopt her quickly and she can keep up with them. She's a day behind, but one very determined soul.

Best Laid Plans...

The sheep shelter.

The sheep water.

Enjoying the View

Dog Days of Summer

Summer Fashion

Sheep shearers are difficult to find these days, especially for small flocks. A local farmer I buy hay from picked up my crew to be sheared with his mob. Here they are sporting their summer 'dos.

The horned ram looks a lot like the sleek goats. They are going to be so much cooler now, with the temps heading up to the 80s and 90s.

Fourth of July

America's favorite holiday always leaves me puzzled and sleepless. Why are we so thrilled by loud noised and dangerous fireworks? Fireworks often set off by people who've spent the day drinking. Frightened animals and fire hazards, injuries to children...we are an odd lot.

This year summer came to the Northwest early - it's been in the 80s for days. Usually summer begins here July 5. June is notoriously cool, cloudy and wet. It was this year as well, punctuated by the occasional steamy hot day. The blackberries have gone wild. I've worried that while I'm out pruning my way into an overgrown area the canes will attack me from the rear, encasing me forever in a briar patch. Keeping 1/4 mile of road passable is a continuous task. After a day of pruning a new cane waves proudly into the roadway.

I've been remiss in keeping up with my blogging. I'm going to backfill with pictures I've taken through the spring.

Next Generation

The White Mob grown up (at least partially grown), and 2 of the 6 Rhode Island Red chicks I purchased from a neighbor. These Rhodies are as friendly and calm as the whites are standoffish and roamers. It's a fun combination. I usually see a group of the white boys under the trees at the far edge of the "bird area." They mock fight, then one decides to make a run for the sheep shelter. The others flap their wings, assess the danger, then run after the first. Once to the area of relative safety, they strut and scratch and peck.

Mamma Goose

My Toulouse Goose finally made a proper nest instead of laying eggs across the field for the ravens to eat. I had visions of doubling my flock size (I currently have 3 geese). When I finally caught her off the nest I checked, and there is 1 egg, neatly covered in down and then sticks. Well, better one than none, but not the gaggle I had in mind.

Muscovies

The 3 ducklings I bought from my neighbor. It didn't take them long to find every drop of water in the area.

Momma Hen

Another hen good at hiding her eggs. Once chicks appear I try to get the family caged as protection against the many ravens who frequent the farm. A couple hens have eluded me, and are so far successfully protecting their chicks.

I love the ferocity of hens. This one is moments away from attacking me.

Peachicks!

My Peahen made her nest in the woods, well hidden from predators as well as from me. One morning I saw her in tall grass, surrounded by the rest of the Pea-flock. On my way to work, I wasn't able to explore - but that night she quietly walked her brood into the kennel with the young chickens.

The funny looking grey and yellow blob on her back is the duckling hatched out by a hen. After 2 weeks the hen started roosting in the trees again, and I have to herd the duckling down from under the tree into the pen. She seems to have taken to the Peahen - she is climbing onto her back.


Here's the duckling with Momma hen. The black and white rooster (Old English Game Fowl bantam) is guarding. Roosters take on the roll of chick protection once the hens abandon them. It's wonderful to see the big guys (or sometimes little guys) digging up grubs for youngsters.