Farm News
Sunday morning, after chores

Somerset Twins Retire, Return
Ting and Ling, the Somerset Twins had heard of the horrors of egg slavery from the bantams. “Locked up in the chicken house are hens with nothing to do but lay eggs,” the bantams whispered. Then, as Spring approached, the Somerset Twins actually met some of the hens from the chicken house. By listening, the Somerset Twins learned that the hens had heated water in the winter and all the food they wanted all day. The bantams, on the other hand, have to scrabble for what wild seeds they can find with just a small feeding twice a day.

Now, the Somersets can't lay golden eggs but they can spot a good deal, so they decided to move into the chicken house and try egg slavery. Late one evening, after all the other chickens had gone to bed, they slipped into the chicken house to spend the night.

They woke up early and had a great breakfast of layer mash, followed by a drink at the indoor water fountain, and hopped out to the chicken yard. The chicken yard is about 18” deep with old hay, wonderful soft stuff chickens love to scratch in. Those two girls thought they were in heaven. Then the old hens started coming out.

Old hens will tolerate a lot of nonsense from a lot of animals, but they have no tolerance whatsoever for young pullets. Ting and Ling bounced up to an old hen and said, “Good morning, old hen,” only to be pecked soundly on their heads. They turned to run and another old hen, who was standing behind them, pecked them again. Everywhere they turned, there was another old hen ready to peck them.

“Don't worry about it, they'll quit in a few days,” said the young red pullets. The Somersets, though, are not the kind to tolerate mean bullies, and they wanted out. Horrors! The chicken yard gate was closed! I had shut it after they sneaked into the chicken house the previous evening.

Finally, after a horrible day of being pecked and bullied, the Somersets saw me coming out to do evening chores. “Please, please!” they cried, “Save us from this!”

I'm a sucker for sad chicken tales, so I opened the gate and let them out. They were so grateful that Ling sang a little song while Ting pecked out the rhythm on my ankle. Ting is convinced that she is supposed to peck me on the ankle whenever she has an opportunity. “That was terrible,” said Ling. “If laying eggs makes you act like that, we are never going to lay eggs,” said Ting, whose understanding of biology is somewhat limited.

The Somersets are living in the barn again, and Ting is constantly underfoot trying to peck my ankles. They follow me around the yard telling me how grateful they are for their release while Ting keeps trying to peck my ankles. Whenever I go through a door or gate I have to be careful not to shut the door on them, because they are always just behind me. Ting and Ling Somerset are two of the most useless, stupid chickens I have ever encountered.

FOR SALE: 2 Golden Polish Crested pullets known as Ting and Ling, the Somerset twins. Very tame but not housebroken. 25¢ or best offer.

Bebe Broods
Toulouse geese tend to lay 30-40 eggs and then to 'go broody', to start incubating the eggs. Bebe produced a dozen or so eggs, most of which I stole for custard pies, then stole the eggs from Beth's nest and went broody. She might have six eggs under her, but probably no more. Reaching under her to feel around and count would be a good way to receive some very painful pecks.

Gosling hatch after about 32 days of incubation, so we can start looking for babies in about four weeks. Last year Bebe hatched a brood of ten and they were terrible nuisances but very cute.

Mammalian Reproduction 314: Martha and Dumb Brother [2]
I thought Martha was pregnant but she obviously wasn't because she came into heat this week. Dumb Brother is sticking around to play his part in the reproductive dance, as we would expect. Martha has been receptive for about four days, which seems to be a bit longer than normal. Maybe she has come to the end of her reproductive life; I hope not, she always has nice kittens.




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Farm News 03-20-05

Farm NewsSunday morning, after chores, 35°


Time to Till the Garden
I haven't been able to drive, yet, due to the sore throat, etc., but I can operate the rototiller. Monday, I tilled the east bed of the garden, the one where we usually raise potatoes, peas, and onions. This year I set the tiller deeper than usual and tried to get down a ways. The result was that I left the bed rougher than I like; the tiller 'porpoised' a bit in places, leaving some waves.

Paula planted the potatoes on St. Patrick's Day. It's a bit early for planting potatoes but we figure it's best to plant whenever you have a chance. We might have two months of continuous rain starting next week. Peas, carrots, lettuce, and radishes can all go in now, too.

Spring Cleaning Begins
Something in the air gets adults all stirred up in the Spring. Men know exactly what is needed, but women have a tendency to get confused; they turn to house cleaning. Paula has started cleaning out the chicken house.

We keep the chicken house floor covered about 16” deep with straw. They quickly pulverize the straw, it settles down, and I add more straw. This goes on for a year and then, in the Spring, it all goes to the compost pile. It's pretty good stuff for things that are green and have roots.

Thanksgiving Lays Egg
Christmas is a snorting pile of testosterone, and Thanksgiving is quiet and retiring. These two could have been invented for 1950's TV. I've been trying to keep an eye on Thanksgiving for it's about time for her to start laying. On Tuesday I found her nestled down into the straw in a spot I had set up in the hopes that she would use it. What a nice, accommodating turkey. When she got up she left behind a nice white egg with brown speckles.

Christmas, during the past week, distinguished himself by attacking Bree and her mother when they came to see the bunnies. Then he flew into the pasture and challenged the ganders, who removed quite a few of his feathers and left him bloody in a few spots. He is a bit more subdued, now, but as soon as he heals up a bit he will probably be starting trouble again.

Mammalian Reproduction 317: Martha and Dumb Brother
Parental warning: contains references to details of mammalian reproduction
Martha is an old mother cat, at least 12 years if not more. As I write this it is Saturday night, and publication will take place in a few hours. According to my calendar, Martha is due to have kittens tomorrow, Sunday, after Farm News has been published for the week. This would give me an entire week to write about kittens, something I always appreciate.

Dumb Brother is our tom cat, the Lord of the Realm. Like his ancestor, Orpheus, he is a rather stupid gray male cat with a big head and a predilection for serious injury. Thanks to the protection of electric fences and two dogs, he has managed to live into middle age. He now spends most of his time around the barn and immediate environs where the dogs can protect him, and grows sleek.

Trusty is somewhere between one and two years old. He is a hyperactive, hyper pain in the ass most of the time. He chews things up, drags firewood all over the yard, digs holes, barks endlessly at squirrels and acts like a puppy. The vet thinks Trusty is half Pointer, and most other people think he is part Beagle. I think he is a nuisance.

This evening, Saturday night, during chores, I listened to NPR news and watched an interesting animal drama play out. Martha was on the firewood stack behind the stove, and Dumb Brother was mounting her for mating. Martha was silent, she did not seem to be objecting to the attempt to mate, but she did not raise her tail in response; she just sat there.

Dumb Brother did not seem all that excited about the whole thing, but, tom cat that he is, he was willing to do his part in whatever drama was to be enacted. Why was he attempting to mate with a cat that was due to have kittens within a day? It looked to me like some sort of pheromonic fantasia was being played out.

Is there some biological transaction going on in the first stage of parturition inside Martha that produces a scent, a pheromone, that triggers Dumb Brother's mating routines? Both of them were silent and Martha had not made any physical moves indicating sexual receptivity. Scent was the next obvious means of triggering.

Trusty alerted me to the activity by barking once. He was standing immediately behind the cats, next to the wood stack, and intently focused on them. When I looked at him for a moment, he looked up at me. I said, “Okay, Trusty, they're okay.” He's young and dumb, but he does understand a few words, and “okay” means that he doesn't need to keep sounding an alarm. He sat down and watched them.

If you have ever watched cat mating, you know that it is not a fast action endeavor. The screwed around, so to speak, for about twenty minutes before they decided to change venues. Dumb Brother dismounted and Martha hopped over to the ramp to the loft, climbed it halfway, and stopped. Dumb Brother, following, hopped up behind her and resumed the mating position, holding onto the back of her neck and straddling her body.

Trusty ran around to the foot of the ramp, ran up it more carefully than usual, giving the cats the widest possible bypass, and, turning around at the top of the ramp, laid down to watch the action. He was excited, focused on those two cats. His nose was working overtime. It was a feast of strange scents and activities, and Trusty was thrilled with every moment of it.

A strange composition, it would seem, for it had no conclusion. The drama built, it was all tremendously exciting, and then it sort of faded out to nothing more than dust floating in the barn. Is Martha really pregnant? Martha hasn't had more than one live kitten per litter for three years. Will she have at least one live kitten tomorrow?

How does Trusty categorize all those strange scents? To him, a castrated male, they probably have little or nothing to do with sex. Does he now associate those scents with cats, or with only those two cats. He probably associates those scents with those two cats, but not with cats in general, and nothing else. I praised him after he observed and did not interact, wanting to reward his behavior. My ability to categorize made my praise meaningless to Trusty, I'm afraid.

Thank you, Dr. Temple Grandin. Animals are more fun than ever.



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Farm News is now a blog at idfafarmnews.blogspot.com

Farm News 03-13-05

Sunday morning, after chores, 31°

Rosie Loses a Litter

Sunday morning I woke up at about 6:00, throat raw and head aching, and remembered that I had forgotten to give Rosie a nest box. So, I dressed, went out to the rabbitry, and put a nest box in for her and stuffed some shredded paper in it.
What I did was put her in a snit. She didn't like that box and wouldn't go in it. Monday morning I found her pushing some shredded paper into a corner, where she started pulling fur. An hour later she had produced a bunch of little pink wiggly bunnies. Sadly, it was just too cold for bunnies who weren't in a nest box and none of them survived.

Next week Rosie can start another pregnancy. Rabbits are very much 'use it or lose it' animals; does who go too long between pregnancies frequently become sterile.

Ayte's eight are peaking in the cute stage right now. They're fuzzy and funny, bouncing around the cage.

IDFA
There is a plan behind all this farm news drivel. The Family Farm is a creation of the Independence Day Family Association (IDFA). IDFA is a not-for-profit corporation that is dedicated to the idea that most people need a place in the country, sometime, if nothing else as a place to scatter their ashes. IDFA is attempting to design a model for a rural setting that offers opportunities for people of every age and calling it The Family Farm.

• The Family Farm has a farm house and a farm manager
• Eight to sixteen cabins for retirees and refugees
• Bunkhouses for groups of kids
• A10-12 bed long term care facility (‘nursing home’)
• A community garden area and orchard
• The buildings and assortment of livestock found on homesteads 150 years ago
• Areas set up for family camping
• A pond for fishing or swimming
• A shelter house for large covered dish events

We are looking at a place where:

• kids can spend a summer on the farm
• we can go to find the end of life
• there are facilities to hold a big party

We are trying to develop guidelines for groups who wish to create and operate a place in the country. We are looking at far more than a golf course or a place to fish. To be capable of long term sustainability such a property would need to provide services to members at most stages in their lives.

The Family Farm model includes an 8-12 bed nursing home and supported living cabins for 8-24 residents, a council of elders in residence. There are now several projects underway building and operating 8-12 bed long term care facilities. Such small facilities are not necessarily more expensive to operate on a per patient basis than the traditional 100+ bed places and can be more comfortable for the residents. Our model places the long term care home in the midst of activities by the extended families of the residents. The small size gives the residents more opportunities to participate in the decisions made in operating the facility.

The nursing home and the supported living capable cabins give a total population of 16-24 retiree residents. Having a bunch of seniors all in one place is bound to lead to reunion planning. A spacious shelter house with a kitchen, showers, and toilets would help them with their plans. The shelter house could also serve for weddings, memorial services, and a communal summer dining room for the residents and guests.

Wouldn't it be nice to have a summer camp for the kids available every summer? A summer camp where Grandmother lives. A summer camp where a family can raise a garden, with the parents helping on weekends. The operating staff requirements are minimal because of the resident senior population. The environment we propose will provide kids with a safe place, whether for overnight or an entire school year.

We don't like to think about it, but any sizable group will need a refuge for victims of family violence. With the bunkhouses providing overflow space for kids, an extra cabin could provide space for a broken fragment of a family.

Of course, every Family Farm needs a vegetable garden, orchard, vineyard, and some berry patches. Chickens supply eggs and garbage disposal. Ducks keep the grasshoppers under control and turkeys accent holiday tables. A milk goat or two are generally nice to have in the barn. In general, a Family Farm needs the same kinds of homestead livestock as have generally been found in small, rural villages.

Add to this a pond or two for fishing and swimming and a playground area for smaller children. Some farms will want a stable and horses, others might choose to build in an eight hole golf course. A woodworking shop might be added or an observatory.

The Family Farm, as we see it, would have a minimal year-round resident population of eighteen to twenty, with fifty being a practical upper limit on resident population, a very small village. Providing sustainable infrastructures for populations in this range is becoming attainable and should be a primary goal in creating a Family Farm. In fact, sustainability must be fundamental to both the physical and the organizational parts of a Family Farm.

IDFA's model includes a Family Archives, a mini-museum with facilities for genealogical and historical research. This is the place where people can leave the portfolios of their lives and those portfolios can then be found by any of their descendants.

It is probably possible to create a Family Farm with as few as thirty households participating. Because the plans include building a long term care facility, there are loan and tax benefits available. Income from the nursing home combined with retirement cottage rents can be sufficient to amortize a fairly large mortgage.

How do you find twenty nine other households you would consider as partners? A church might be a good start. IDFA suggests that Family Farms be incorporated as churches, when possible. Your own extended family is another place to start. And, you can enter into the IDFA discussions of design guides for Family Farms.

Calvin Hits the Late Teen Trail
Calvin has moved on to a real job. He landed a full-time job in a cement factory south of Topeka and is now living near Lyndon. Good luck, Calvin, and watch out for ice. I've been urging him to find a full time job but now that he's gone I'll miss him.

Tom Turkey's Testosterone Trot
Christmas, the Blue Slate male turkey, is possibly the most testosterone besotted creature I have ever kept on the farm; worse than buck goats and teenage boys, even. He has a simple routine:

1. Look for moving object; when one is spotted, move toward it
2. Display
3. If moving object does not change into sexually receptive female, go to [1].

Now, I know that a lot of people are going to say, “And there is something unusual here?”, and, the answer is, “Yes. He doesn't stop for the equivalent of a cheeseburger.” Occasionally, in the evening, if I leave a light on in the rabbitry, Christmas will drop in for a nice meal, which I gladly provide, if I happen to be there. He seems to be sturdy enough, and I don't plan to eat him, so I'm letting him stay lean and concentrate on his business.

Although Christmas seldom interrupts the above routine to eat, he does take a break to drum occasionally. “Drumming”, as I would interpret it from observation, is quite similar to an after lights-out ritual performed nightly in the military school I once attended.

Christmas steps out into a smooth, sunny spot, spreads his feathers to the widest, and begins. His wattles and warts turn brilliant red, his face is bright blue, and his feathers vibrate in buzzes and rattles. Every so often he makes a sound like a defective whoopee cushion, with some other wheezes and groans right at the upper and lower ends of my hearing range.

Slowly, he turns around, showing all of his beauty. His tail display is very elaborate when viewed from the rear. Staying in one spot, he turns around, and around, and around, slowly, and then his right foot starts to strike the ground harder with each step. Soon he changes to striking the ground twice with his right foot on each step. Gradually, he changes from circling to standing on his left foot and drumming the right on the ground.

Sometimes he changes feet and loses a beat or two, but he picks it up again quickly. He's quite vigorous in striking the ground with his foot and I can hear him from fifty feet away. Then he starts crouching. His tail, once fanned vertical, is sweeping down behind him, still spread but now horizontal. Still drumming with one foot, he begins circling again, crouching lower and lower, and beginning to extend his head forward. Suddenly he stops, neck extended, tail fanned flat on the ground behind him, crouched down on the ground, perfectly still, and then a light tremor rustles through his feathers. He stands up, shakes his feathers out, circles a few times, and returns to [1].

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