A Day in The Life Of...

Since I work fewer hours than Mr. Bee, it's my responsibility to take care of the "day time" chores. (It's a more than fair arrangement, trust me!) It's a simple, soothing routine that I enjoy immensely when I am not nauseous from the Little Bee growing inside me. In an attempt at homestead transparency, I figured I'd take you along on a day last week.

First thing in the morning, I start by calling Lula Mae into the barn and situating her in the stanchion for her morning feeding. A stanchion is a simple enough contraption with a bucket for feed, a lock for the goat's head and "hobbles" or ties for the feet of a milking goat.

 Chloe trying out the stanchion. Grain! Omnomnomnomnom

The nice thing about a stanchion is that it keeps the goat from sitting down or moving while milking, ensuring sweet, clean milk. Even though Lula Mae isn't milking right now, we keep using the stanchion to keep her in the habit. This may look like a medieval torture contraption, but I assure you it's not! The time spent in the stanchion is usually less than 10 minutes and it's not uncomfortable for them.

 

Lula Mae getting ready to be milked (a few months back).
Our milk pail has a lid that covers the top while leaving a small opening for the milk to squirt into (not pictured).

After feeding Lula Mae, I head next door to the duck barn. There, I open the gate to their run so everyone can frolic and forage in our land all day long. (Okay, and the neighbor's land as of late. Something about a field full of dandelions that is proving irresistible to those Khaki Campbells who have no problem sliding through the fence.) Before stepping inside the house to collect eggs, I shut the run again so that if I startle Mama Duck when I go to collect eggs, she'll only flee to the run and then promptly return to her nest. Today, there are 10 eggs in the nest boxes and scattered in various corners of the house. Not bad.

 

Then I turn my attention to the chickens who are (still) preferring the inside of the house to the beautiful outdoors. I blame this on the fact that they have a very nice screened window that they can look out of and even feel the breeze through without ever having to get a feather wet in the rain. I also blame their obviously inferior intelligence; our ducks instinctively know it's better to roam outside!

The "baby" chickens, hanging out by their window. Instead of actually going outside.

 I try to coax them down their ladder and out the door, but they refuse. Instead I startle our sitting Mama Duck down below. She'll come back shortly. I use this as an opportunity to check for new eggs that have been deposited in her nest that are far too late to be joining this hatching process. I find 2 eggs and put them in the egg basket.

 

Mama Duck angrily leaving the duck house, heading into the run.

I check everyone's water and food. That's it! I'm on my way for the day.

 

See? Just like I said, simple.

 

Mr. Bee gets home and I give him the daily report. We stand outside on the back deck, proud of all that we have.

 

Then we hear something.  Chloe is whimpering loudly. Could Lula Mae be in labor early? Mr. Bee rushes toward the goat barn. I rush inside to pee (thanks Baby Bee!). When I finally make my way to the barn, everything is quiet. Lula Mae is on the stanchion eating, with Mr. Bee stroking her gently.

 

Me: Is everything okay?

 

Mr. Bee: Yeah... Uh, it's fine now. What time did you feed Lula again?

 

Me: In the morning, like normal. Why?

 

Mr. Bee: Looks like she's been here all day then. I think you forgot to get her out.

 

I'm horrified. Poor pregnant Lula Mae--unable to sit or lay down for an entire day!

 

Mr. Bee continues: And, uh, it looks like you locked Mama Duck in the duck house and run all day too. And locked the rest of the flock out, which means they didn't have access to their water.

 

Could it get any worse?

 

Mr. Bee continues again: And the extra eggs you found under Mama Duck? Yeah, they were actually part of the original batch she's been setting. I guess it's too late to put them back now!

 

Fortunately...the stress didn't induce labor in Lula Mae and she still happily gets on the stanchion each morning for her feed. As for the ducks, it had at least rained the night before so our flooded land made a nice watering hole for them. And Mama Duck? Well, she is still trying to add 2 more eggs to her nest each day, but at least we have 12 viable eggs remaining. 

 

As Mr. Bee says: Sometimes you're the one stuck in the stanchion and sometimes you're the one that leaves the goat there.

 

Homestead wisdom at its finest.

Adoption

It's been quiet around this electronic homestead, but don't for a moment think it's been quiet in our physical world. Generally, I like to write about things that are solid, or at minimum, unsettled things whose uncertainty I can count on. Instead, life has consisted of "we'll-have-to-see" or "we-won't-know-till-we-get-there"  moments, with a whole lot of decision-making thrown in. Over the coming days and weeks, I'll find the space to write about it all, and hopefully whether through this process or through time, will find solid footing I want.

One thing I know for sure is that homesteading takes you over, and over again, through the full cycle of life.

We recently lost two of our ducks. Butry, one of the big white ones, and one of "The Littles" that we hand-raised. It was torture. I went outside one Saturday morning to let the Ducks out and I counted. But before I could finish counting, I knew they were not all there.

Each morning, four quacking ducks gather at my feet waiting for treats and love. This morning there were only two. "Why couldn't it have been one of the other ducks?" I asked myself over and over again as I struggled to make peace with the truth. You know the outcome. You know it already happened, but  somehow you want to change it so it's just a little bit better. A little more palatable. Why I couldn't it have been a duck without a name?

I was scouring our property, scouring every bush and suspecting every owl that dare cry. I had to find them.
I searched each night and each morning. I would look into the thick forest and hope any moment the ducks would come waddling out, having had a great adventure but ready to return home. I was consumed with a longing I've rarely known.

Hope springs eternal.

In the end, I found something, though not what I was hoping for. The neighbors who sold us the goat, called us and asked if he had a home for their now-lonely Peckin, whose flock-mates had become the recent dinner of a raccoon or dog. We arranged the adoption, and are grateful for the addition. Our flock-family feels a little more complete, but I think there's still room for more.

Welcome, Ms. Duck.

You win some...

If I were to say, "it's been busy lately" then I would be painting you an inaccurate picture. I'm searching for other words....frenetic, intense, overloaded. In case you are a visual learner, you may find the following picture more telling than any of my words.

Taken at the END of my workday. Moments after discovery.

We have gotten a lot done. It's true in a sense. But no matter how hard I try, I cannot cram more than 24 hours into a day. Except daylight savings time. And I usually forget to take advantage of that (next year, next year). We finally expanded our duck pen, dug up part of the lawn for our square foot garden, installed a deer fence around the garden, built "tunnels" for our veggies while they attempt to grow in this stubbornly cold weather, introduced baby duckies to big duckies, and started a worm compost bin. Oh yeah, we both went to the dentist too.

(read more after the jump)

Of Greater Consequence

We were only going to be gone for a little while. Just a quick trip. 2 hours . Max.

And that’s all the time we were gone for.

Dusk settled in around our car as we pulled into the driveway. It was quiet but it often is this time of day. 

“You bring the stuff in, and I’ll put the ducks to bed,” I directed to Mr. Bee as I slammed the car door and rushed toward the duck pen. No ducks were in sight. Some nights they go into their house without assistance when the sun begins to go down or they get chilly. I love nights like these. So, so easy. All I have to do is put Edgar [AKA Blind and/or Brave duck] inside.

I checked the Edgar’s usual spot and found emptiness. Maybe, just maybe, he found his way into the house?

Nearly impossible, but worth looking.

I leaned over to poke my head inside the Duckmahal and take stock. Only I didn’t get very far. The Duckmahal’s main door was already latched.

I looked closer.  It was latched improperly, but very intentionally latched nevertheless.

“Someone put the ducks away already. Do you think J&E would have done that for us since we were out later than normal?” 

“Maybe, I mean, last night J did ask whether they had to go in at night and I told him it was because of the opossums. I’ll have to tell him that it’s okay if they’re out for a little past dark and that he doesn’t need to worry about it.”

“Crazy. They’re really great neighbors,” I replied all the while impressed that they managed to get 12 ornery ducks and one Blind and/or Brave Duck inside their house without our Pavlovian tricks. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were true duck-whisperers!

I shrugged my shoulders, rang the bell anyway and gave the already-housed ducks their 5-minutes of supper.

Inside, Mr. Bee loomed over the sink in the awkward position I know all too well as the only way to get partial cell phone reception to listen to voice mails at our homestead. “Who’s that from?”

No response.

“…ducks..[static] …inside…[skip}…so I…[skip]…[skip]…dog…[crackle]…neighbor…”

My heart rate slowed then sped up faster than it was beating before. “What? Who is that? What happened?”

Still no answer.

I jumped up on the counter, getting closer to the source in hopes of making more sense out of the broken-up message I’d walked in on half-way through.

Finally, the message was over and Mr. Bee explained. “It’s Maya. She was in our yard. In the duck yard. She had one of the ducks. In their pen. E&J got her out. The ducks all ran in their house. Except for one. They put it inside too and locked everyone up. They wanted to let us know what happened. They said no one looked hurt.”

Maya is the one neighborhood dog that has taken an interest in our property and our livestock. Despite fencing, the 6 month old husky finds her way into our place by any means available. Tonight, it was the back gate we left open, thinking we’d only be gone a little while.

Most of the lessons we’ve learned in the country, we’ve learned the hard-way: experience. In the city, we would usually discover the error of our ways just before we made a decision. Other times, it would be right afterward, but they were usually trivial in nature. For example, if you find something you are obsessed with at Trader Joe’s, buy a lot of it before it disappears. Every time you go to the store. Because one day, it will be gone. (Do you remember those seaweed rice puffs?) It’s also important to keep a log of when you called and whom you spoke with when trying to resolve a bug infestation at your apartment complex. Or a leak in your wall, for that matter. Lastly, QFC brand bacon is not very tasty, even when it’s on sale.  Especially when it’s on sale. The only big exception to our trivial rule was the time we bought a used car that later showed up on consumer reports’ “worst used cars” list. That one had some lasting (read: expensive) consequences.

In any case, our learning curve now is one that is both steeper and of greater consequence. It has greater risks but also greater potential for reward. One lesson that we’ve taken to heart tonight is that we really do have some pretty amazing neighbors. Well, the ones without dogs that is.

Firsts.

Those who know me consider me an "over achiever." But those who really know me, know that I do well at what I attempt and only attempt that which I know I can do well.

Did you catch that? Most of my success rests in the fact that I don't take a lot of risks. Overall, I'd say it's a pretty decent plan. It leaves you feeling competent. You never have to put yourself out there. You get good results.

And that's all that matters, right?

Er, I guess you could say, well, that's all that used to matter. This whole homestead adventure has gifted me ample opportunities to attempt new things at a pace so rapid I forgot to be cautious. In fact, in the past 4 months, I have done more new things than I usually allow myself to try in 5 years. In case you are wondering, yes, I do treat "new things" like a controlled substance." Don't all risky things require regulation?

Since January I have:

Battling the Elements

As mentioned yesterday, we had a minor fire at our house on Thursday. It was/is stressful, but we are fine. bla bla bla.

No more fires have occurred, but today has now had me contemplating other elements. What's the opposite of fire?

WATER!

Ah, yes. This afternoon, our washing machine flooded. For the second time in one month.

I feel like I'm part of some bad horoscope prediction or at least some cosmic evening-out that I didn't agree to be part of.

We don't know why it's overflowing. In fact, we can't willingly reproduce it. We even took 1/2 the machine apart and followed more online "how to fix your overflowing washer" tutorials on ehow.com than I care to admit.

Mr. Bee's solution? We'll just install a rubber barrier outside of the laundry room so that next time it overflows, we'll be prepared and it won't get the rest of the house floating in 1 inch of water.

I said that wasn't sufficient.

So now we own a shop vac...?

The entire video can be found here. 

It's Not Funny Yet

"Some day, you'll look back on this and laugh."

Apparently, some day has not arrived because I still don't feel like laughing. Until this week, it's been *relatively* uneventful ever since our initial storm-related homestead fails.

Snowpocalypse

During the aforementioned snowpocalypse, our power was out for many days. Apart from the multiple feet of snow acting as an insulator around the house, we had a stove so we didn't freeze to death. We were fine. (I won't tell you that this state of being only came to pass after a frantic trip to the hardware store to purchase flashlights and pick over the leftover batteries. Because you would know that flashlights and batteries are the first things you should buy when you move to a rural area in the middle of winter.)

The storm lulled and we ventured out to replenish our supply. With a backseat full of almond milk and hot dogs, we drove safely through the winding roads. It was beautiful.

On the street leading to our house, someone had put out a giant sign.