This Means War

This morning I went outside.  I fed all the cats.  I set the sprinkler on some flowers.  And then I walked over to the henhouse.  I let the chickens out, and then approached the huge Rubbermaid trashcans that we (used to) keep their food in.

This is the lid.  Note the big rock I put on the lid, to keep the raccoons from getting it off and eating the chicken food (did I mention that chicken food is really expensive?).  Not only did they tear open the lid, completely destroying it, but that stuff all over it is, yes, it is

RACCOON POOP.

Which was not my first choice of words, but this is a family site.

Be prepared.  The onslaught is about to begin.

A Cold Morning In the Henhouse

We got a little bit of snow and ice last night - maybe an inch - nothing for around here.  But, it is blowing and cold (in the 20s) and there is still flurries....flurrying...around .  I went out this morning to check on the hens, and most likely, break the ice on their waterers.

Look who got locked in the house last night.  He must have already snuck in before we closed the house up for the night.

Rule #1 - LOOK inside the house before you lock it up.  Need to remind Eldest Son of this rule again!

Yep, playing dead, the little possum is.  Now I know why my hens were hollering this morning!

Not so cute when you can see his evil eyes, sharp teeth, and hear him hissing at you.

He hadn't killed any chickens (Praise God!).  I think the little ones aren't quite ready to take on a full-grown hen yet.  They mainly eat the eggs and the chicken food. 

The hens are not at all pleased.  Not at all.

He stayed out there all morning.  I chucked a few rocks in at him and was rewarded with the evil hissing and snarling.  He did not want to come out in the daylight - I think he was just going to stay in there all day, then mosey on out when it got dark.

But, alas (for him) Nevin came home and shot him. 

The moral to this story - unless you are invited, you better stay out of my henhouses!

It was so nice yesterday to get up and see blue skies and sunshine on the snow.  I am not really a winter person.  I used to be, but now I think I am a spring/fall girl.  I don't like to be hot, but now that I have to take care of the chickens all winter, I am not too crazy about cold, either.  As long as it isn't freezing I am fine, but when there are all the details and complications of freezing chicken water/heated waterers, frozen hoses, etc. it is just a pain to deal with. 

But, for now, as it is warming up and the snow is turning to mud in our yard, I think I am going to look at the pictures I took yesterday, of a sunny, snowy day.

The view from the front porch - it all looks different with the blue sky behind it!

Chickens don't like snow.  I had to get in the house and chase them out, and even at that, as soon as I got out of the house most of them ran back in.  These ladies are White Leghorns (like Foghorn Leghorn).  When we first started raising chickens I was informed that "Leghorn" is pronounced "Leg-ern".   

Don't the henhouses look pretty in the sunshine!

And the view off our back deck.  Please note that the turkey next to the tree in the center, and the deer in the lower left-hand corner are not real - those are targets.

Right now I am finishing up the school schedule for the next few weeks, and I have to do some cabinet drawings today.  But while I do these computer chores I am thinking over schedules, priorities, organization and redeeming the time.  I will post some of those thoughts later this week, as they all begin to jell. 

I'm So Not Laura Ingalls Wilder

I love Laura Ingalls Wilder.  I grew up reading the Little House books over and over (and over and over and over).  As an adult, I have enjoyed her other writings, especially her columns for The Ruralist newspaper, and I have moved into Rose Wilder Lane's works as well.

She had always had responsibilities with her family's animals.  Especially in Little Town on the Prairie she talks about feeding the animals, moving the calves, etc.  In her later years, after she moved to Missouri, Laura became well-known in her community for her chickens.  Laura wrote and spoke about her flocks, how to care for them, what to do to get the best egg production, etc.  I always imagined I'd be like Laura, gathering eggs in my apron while the sun shined down on my flock.

It has not happened exactly that way.

Yesterday I wandered out into a blizzard (not quite The Long Winter, but close!) to feed the chickens.  First, I berated myself for having been too a)lazy b)unorganized c)distracted to have set up the heated waterers.  We have waterers that plug in and will keep the water from freezing.  Marvelous devices, which Laura did not have.  Only problem, you have to plug them in.  I am afraid of electricity.  All those cords and connectors in the henhouse, plus a big tub of water, make me anxious.  Nevin has told me that there is not enough current to kill me if I stuck it in my ear, but I am not going to test his theory. 

Anyway, being "a", "b" and "c" yesterday morning, I went out to feed the chickens in my bright purple pajamas (I didn't want to have to get dressed twice) with the dancing penguins pattern.  They were a gift from my sons.  Anyway, I put on the snow boots, my coat, couldn't find my gloves (see "b" above) and headed out.  The hoses are no longer hooked up, so I had to carry the waterers to the hose bib, hold the valve open with one hand and the 5 gallon water with the other.  Amazingly enough, I didn't get the base back on the way I should, so as I walked to the henhouse and turned the waterer over, the base came off and 5 gallons of water ran down both the legs of my purple penguin pajamas.

How refreshing!

So, back to the hose, mumbling unkind things about chickens and poultry in general. 

But it was done, grumbling aside.  Today both houses have heated water and food.  I believe the hens are happy (or at least happier than they were).  And I feel like a pioneer, forged from rugged stock, taming the land and the animals. 

It's always something, you know....

Today is simply filled with adventures.  We got up this morning with several of us hacking and coughing, so we decided it was "school by video" day - we watched a dvd on government and part of a science video, then just did some reading and read aloud stuff.  Tomorrow will be better.  I hope!

Joe and Henry were in a turmoil because a couple of the chicks were getting pecked.  For those who are not hip to chicken behavior, occasionally a couple chicks will get pecked on their rears until it draws blood, and then the rest of the flock will jump in on it.  This can really injure, even kill, a chick.  It was recommended that I put axle grease on the wound, so it would taste bad.  I don't think I have any of that.  Vaseline?  No, not that either.  But ......to the rescue, that fabulous product with now a million and ONE MORE uses - Mary Kay Extra Emollient Night Cream!  Washed them off, rubbed it on their little behinds, and no more pecking.

And they smell nice and will have just the softest behinds!

We are now getting ready to process the three deer The Hunter got last weekend.  Some friends are coming by to learn how to process deer, and just to share in the general merriment.

Life around here is something different every single day!